_Hil._ Art thou so sure that I _have_ loved thee long? I loved one Florian--a stainless knight, Brave as the very Truth--and, being brave, Tender and merciful as brave men are; Whose champion heart was sworn in chivalry To save all women, sorrowing and oppressed; Nor did he hold that woman to be banned Whose sorrow came of her great love for him! Tell me--art thou the Florian that I loved? _Flor._ If not that stainless Florian--yet one Who would be such as he. (_Taking her by both hands._) I have thy love-- I who have lived a loveless life till now. Well, then, I yield thee up! (_Releasing her._) If words of mine Can save thy sister, I will speak those words! _Hil._ I knew it! Florian, I was sure of thee! God bless thee, Florian; thou hast saved her life! (_Kissing his forehead._) (_Passionately._) Oh, how I love thee! (_With hurried emphasis._) Go to her at once-- Go to her quickly, ere it be too late! _Flor._ Thy sister comes this way. (_Aside._) Alas! Vavir, There is more Heaven than Earth in that pale face! _Enter VAVIR, very pale and weak, supported by MELUSINE and AMANTHIS. FLORIAN receives her in his arms and they lay her gently on the ground. HILDA rushes to her, as they place her on the ground, near the sun-dial. FLORIAN kneels by her, and takes her hand._ _Hil._ Vavir, my love--my gentle sister. See, He loves thee--Florian loves thee! He is here To tell thee this--to call thee back to life. Come at his call! The earth is bright for thee. See how he loves thee. Oh, Vavir, come back! _Vav._ (_very faintly_). It is too late--too late! I feel the hand Of Death upon my heart. So let it be. My day is spent--my tale is nearly told! _Hil._ Vavir--Vavir! Have pity on us! Gentle little soul, Fly not to thine appointed Heaven--not yet-- Not yet--not yet! Eternity is thine; Spare but a few brief years to us on Earth, And still Eternity remains to thee! He loves thee--Florian loves thee well! Oh, Death, Are there no hoary men and aged women Weeping for thee to come and comfort them? Oh, Death--oh, Death--leave me this little flower! Take thou the fruit, but pass the blossom by! _Vav._ (_very feebly_). Weep not: the bitterness of death is past. Kiss me, my sister. Florian, think of me-- I loved thee very much! Be good to her. Dear sister, place my hand upon my dial. Weep not for me; I have no pain indeed. Kiss me again; my sun has set. Good night! Good night! [_VAVIR dies; HILDA falling senseless on her body._ CURTAIN. ENGAGED. _AN ENTIRELY ORIGINAL FARCICAL COMEDY_, IN THREE ACTS. _First produced at the Haymarket Theatre, under the management of_ MR. J. S. CLARKE, _Wednesday, 3rd October, 1877_. DRAMATIS PERSONÆ.