_Lady Am._ My steward oppress the poor! I did not know it indeed. _Banks._ The pangs of adversity I could bear; but the innocent partner of my misfortunes, my unhappy sister-- _Lady Am._ I did desire Ephraim to send for thy sister--Did she dwell with thee, and both now without a home? Let her come to mine. _Banks._ The hand of misery hath struck us beneath your notice. _Lady Am._ Thou dost mistake--To need my assistance is the highest claim to my attention; let me see her. [_Exit_ BANKS.] I could chide myself that these pastimes have turned my eye from the house of woe. Ah! think, ye proud and happy affluent, how many, in your dancing moments, pine in want, drink the salt tear; their morsel, the bread of misery, and shrinking from the cold blast into their cheerless hovels. _Enter_ BANKS, _leading in_ AMELIA. _Banks_. Madam, my sister. [_Bows and retires._ _Lady Am._ Thou art welcome--I feel myself interested in thy concerns. _Amelia._ Madam! _Lady Am._ I judge, thou wert not always unhappy.--Tell me thy condition, then I shall better know how to serve thee. Is thy brother thy sole kindred? _Amelia._ I had a husband, and a son. _Lady Am._ A widow! If it recall not images thou wouldst forget, impart to me thy story--'Tis rumoured in the village, thy brother is a clergyman--tell me. _Amelia._ Madam, he was; but he has lost his early patron, and is now poor and unbeneficed. _Lady Am._ But thy husband-- _Amelia._ By this brother's advice, now twenty years since, I was prevailed on to listen to the addresses of a young sea officer, (for my brother has been a chaplain in the navy) but to our surprise and mortification, we discovered by the honesty of a sailor, in whom he put confidence, that the captain's design was only to decoy me into a seeming marriage; he ordered him to procure a counterfeit clergyman; our humble friend, instead of us, put the deceit upon his master, by concealing from him that my brother was in orders; he, flattered with the hopes of procuring me an establishment, gave in to the supposed imposture, and performed the ceremony. _Lady Am._ Duplicity, even with a good intent, is ill. _Amelia._ Madam, the event has justified your censure; for my husband, not knowing himself really bound by any legal tie, abandoned me--I followed him to the Indies, distracted, still seeking him--I left my infant at one of our settlements; but, after a fruitless pursuit, on my return, I found the friend, to whose care I had committed my child, was compelled to retire from the ravages of war, but where I could not learn. Rent with agonizing pangs, now without child or husband, I again saw England, and my brother; who, wounded with remorse, for being the cause of my misfortunes, secluded himself from the joys of social life, and invited me to partake the comforts of solitude in that humble asylum, from whence we've both just now been driven.