_Mr. D._ No! you cannot.--I see her fade and wither in the bloom of youth; I see her pining after an imaginary happiness, which she cannot attain.--I see myself, her father, once her best friend, avoided, shunned, distrusted. When she shall have wept till she can weep no more, when her grief shall be terminated in untimely death--oh! then, when I mourn over the grave of my only child, what consolation can you give me in my despair? (Pause----Enter AUGUSTA.) _Mr. D._ Come to my arms, Augusta. We have a long account to settle together [they embrace]: closer! as you used to do! from the bottom of your heart: so [he kisses her, and gently lets her go]. _Augusta._ Oh! my father! _Mr. D._ You have behaved to me, Augusta, as if I were a stranger. God knows, it is not my fault. Whether awake, or in my dreams, I never cease to bless you. _Augusta_ [with a downcast look]. My dearest father, can you forgive me? _Mr. D._ You love. Heaven crown your love with happiness! It is not for that I blame you: love is involuntary. _Augusta._ But I did not open my heart to you. _Mr. D._ Yes, there you hurt me severely. _Augusta._ I love nobody as I do yourself and my mother. Speak, dear mother; how often did the confession of my attachment tremble upon my lips! _Mr. D._ And why not avow it? _Augusta._ I never had a favourable opportunity. _Mr. D._ [hastily]. That is the effect of those unhappy books again---- _Mrs. D._ Be gentle, my dear Drave. _Mr. D._ [composed]. You were not always thus: formerly, you thought me worthy of your confidence. _Augusta._ I will behave so again. _Mr. D._ Do I wait for favourable opportunities to love you? Oh, no! in things the most indifferent, I ask myself, will it give pleasure to my Augusta? I close my eyes with prayers for the happiness of my child; and my first thoughts, when I rise, are on the means of gratifying her wishes; while she, for whose sake only I live, waits for opportunities to be good and sincere! _Augusta_ [leaning on her mother]. Oh! my mother! _Mrs. D._ Cease, I intreat you! _Mr. D._ Why turn to your mother? come to this wounded bosom. [She embraces him]. Think no more of what is past; only treat me with sincerity. Believe me, in all your books you will not find a father whose affection for his daughter equals mine. _Augusta._ Oh! were I dead! then no suspicion of ingratitude could tear my heart. _Mr. D._ No, Augusta! not dead--then I could forgive no more. [He presses her affectionately to his heart]. Now my child is restored to me. What happiness can equal mine? Here I hold the only hope of my life, in my arms. _Mrs. D._ Am not I her mother? _Mr. D._ Forgive me. What would life be to me, without you? forgive me [takes her hand and kisses it]----Now I will seek your fugitive lover: God grant I may find him worthy of my Augusta! [Exit Drave.