_Ind._ Alas! too well! Oh, could I be any other thing than what I am----I'll tear away all traces of my former self, my little ornaments, the remains of my first state, the hints of what I ought to have been---- [_In her disorder she throws away a bracelet, which_ SEALAND _takes up, and looks earnestly on it._ _Mr. Seal._ Ha! what's this? My eyes are not deceived! It is, it is the same! the very bracelet which I bequeathed to my wife at our last mournful parting. _Ind._ What said you, sir? Your wife? Whither does my fancy carry me? What means this unfelt motion at my heart? And yet, again my fortune but deludes me; for if I err not, sir, your name is Sealand; but my lost father's name was---- _Mr. Seal._ Danvers; was it not? _Ind._ What new amazement? That is, indeed, my family. _Mr. Seal._ Know, then, when my misfortunes drove me to the Indies, for reasons too tedious now to mention, I changed my name of Danvers into Sealand. _Enter_ ISABELLA. _Isab._ If yet there wants an explanation of your wonder, examine well this face (yours, sir, I well remember), gaze on and read in me your sister, Isabella. _Mr. Seal._ My sister! _Isab._ But here's a claim more tender yet----your Indiana, sir, your long-lost daughter. _Mr. Seal._ Oh, my child! my child! _Ind._ All gracious Heaven! is it possible! do I embrace my father? _Mr. Seal._ And I do hold thee.--These passions are too strong for utterance. Rise, rise, my child, and give my tears their way.--Oh, my sister! [_Embracing her._ _Isab._ Now, dearest niece, my groundless fears, my painful cares no more shall vex thee. If I have wronged thy noble lover with too much suspicion, my just concern for thee, I hope, will plead my pardon. _Mr. Seal._ Oh! make him, then, the full amends, and be yourself the messenger of joy. Fly this instant! tell him all these wondrous turns of Providence in his favour! Tell him I have now a daughter to bestow which he no longer will decline; that this day he still shall be a bridegroom; nor shall a fortune, the merit which his father seeks, be wanting. Tell him the reward of all his virtues waits on his acceptance. [_Exit_ ISAB.] My dearest Indiana! [_Turns and embraces her._ _Ind._ Have I, then, at last, a father's sanction on my love? His bounteous hand to give, and make my heart a present worthy of Bevil's generosity? _Mr. Seal._ Oh, my child! how are our sorrows past o'erpaid by such a meeting! Though I have lost so many years of soft paternal dalliance with thee, yet, in one day to find thee thus, and thus bestow thee, in such perfect happiness, is ample, ample reparation!--And yet, again, the merit of thy lover---- _Ind._ Oh! had I spirits left to tell you of his actions! how strongly filial duty has suppressed his love; and how concealment still has doubled all his obligations; the pride, the joy of his alliance, sir, would warm your heart, as he has conquered mine. _Mr. Seal._ How laudable is love when born of virtue! I burn to embrace him----