_Mrs. Bev._ His hands from blood! Whose blood?--O, wretch!
wretch!

_Stu._ From Lewson's blood.

_Char._ No, villain! Yet what of Lewson? Speak quickly!

_Stu._ You are ignorant then! I thought I heard the murderer at
confession.

_Char._ What murderer? And who is murdered? Not Lewson? Say he
lives, and I'll kneel down and worship you.

_Stu._ In pity, so I would; but that the tongues of all cry murder.
I came in pity, not in malice; to save the brother, not kill the
sister. Your Lewson's dead.

_Char._ O horrible! Why, who has killed him?--And yet it cannot be.
What crime had He committed that he should die? Villain! he lives!
he lives! and shall revenge these pangs.

_Mrs. Bev._ Patience, sweet Charlotte!

_Char._ O, 'tis too much for patience!

_Mrs. Bev._ He comes in pity, he says. O! execrable villain! The
friend is killed then, and this the murderer?

_Bev._ Silence, I charge you. Proceed, Sir.