Calantha upon recovering, sought Sir Richard. Her looks were haggard and wild: despair had given them a dreadful expression. "Have mercy—have mercy. I command, I do not implore you to grant me one request," she said—"to give me yet one chance, however, undeserved. Let me see him, cruel man: let me kneel to him." "Kneel to him!" cried Sir Richard, with indignation: "never, You have used your arts long enough to make a fool, and a slave, ke: noble, confiding husband. There is some justice in Heaven: I thank God his eyes are open at last. He has acted like a man. Had he pardoned an adultress—had he heard her, and suffered his reason to be beguiled—had he taken again to his heart the wanton who has sacrificed his honour, his happiness, and every tie, I would have renounced him for ever. No, no, he shall not return: by God, he shall not see you again."
