_Henry._ I feel it now! proudly feel it!--You hate the man, that never wronged you--I could love the man, that injures me--You meanly triumph o'er a worm--I make a giant tremble. _Sir Philip._ Take him from my sight! Why am I not obeyed? _Miss B._ Henry, if you wish my hate should not accompany my father's, instantly begone. _Henry._ Oh, pity me! [_Exit._ [MISS BLANDFORD _looks after him_--SIR PHILIP, _exhausted, leans on his servants._ _Sir Philip._ Supported by my servants! I thought I had a daughter! _Miss B._ [_Running to him._] O you have, my father! one that loves you better than her life! _Sir Philip._ [_To_ SERVANT.] Leave us. [_Exit_ SERVANT. Emma, if you feel, as I fear you do, love for that youth--mark my words! When the dove wooes for its mate the ravenous kite; when nature's fixed antipathies mingle in sweet concord, then, and not till then, hope to be united. _Miss B._ O Heaven! _Sir Philip._ Have you not promised me the disposal of your hand? _Miss B._ Alas! my father! I didn't then know the difficulty of obedience! _Sir Philip._ Hear, then, the reasons why I demand compliance. You think I hold these rich estates--Alas, the shadow only, not the substance. _Miss B._ Explain, my father! _Sir Philip._ When I left my native country, I left it with a heart lacerated by every wound, that the falsehood of others, or my own conscience, could inflict. Hateful to myself, I became the victim of dissipation--I rushed to the gaming table, and soon became the dupe of villains.--My ample fortune was lost; I detected one in the act of fraud, and having brought him to my feet, he confessed a plan had been laid for my ruin; that he was but an humble instrument; for that the man, who, by his superior genius, stood possessed of all the mortgages and securities I had given, was one Morrington. _Miss B._ I have heard you name him before. Did you not know this Morrington? _Sir Philip._ No; he, like his deeds, avoided the light--Ever dark, subtle, and mysterious. Collecting the scattered remnant of my fortune, I wandered, wretched and desolate, till, in a peaceful village, I first beheld thy mother, humble in birth, but exalted in virtue. The morning after our marriage she received a packet, containing these words: "The reward of virtuous love, presented by a repentant villain;" and which also contained bills and notes to the high amount of ten thousand pounds. _Miss B._ And no name?