ſoldier’s life: but I ſaw you go from me with an aching heart. Soon after, my health declined, I was compelled to give up my employment, and, by degrees, became the object you now ſee me. But, let me add, before I cloſe my calamitous ſtory, that—when I left the good old clergyman, taking along with me his kind advice and his bleſſing, I left him with a firm determination to fulfil the vow I had made of repentance and amendment. I have fulfilled it—and now, Frederick, you may look at me again. [He embraces her.]
Frederick.
But my father all this time? [mournfully] I apprehend he died.
Agatha.
No—he married.
Frederick.
Married!
Agatha.
A woman of virtue——of noble birth and immenſe fortune. Yet, [weeps] I had written to him many times; had deſcribed your infant innocence and wants; had glanced obliquely at former promiſes
Frederick [rapidly].
No anſwer to theſe letters?
Agatha.
Not a word.—But in the time of war, you know, letters miſcarry.
Frederick.
Nor did he ever return to this eſtate?
Agatha.
No—ſince the death of his mother this caſtle has only been inhabited by ſervants for he ſettled as far off as Alſace, upon the eſtate of his wife.
