_Mrs. Bev._ I never doubted him.

_Bev._ No; You are charity. Meekness and ever-during patience live
in that heart, and love that knows no change--Why did I ruin you?

_Mrs. Bev._ You have not ruined me. I have no wants when You are
present, nor wishes in your absence, but to be blest with your
return. Be but resigned to what has happened, and I am rich beyond
the dreams of avarice.

_Bev._ My generous girl!--But memory will be busy; still crowding on
my thoughts, to sour the present by the past. I have another pang too.

_Mrs. Bev._ Tell it, and let me cure it.

_Bev._ That friend, that generous friend, whose fame they have
traduced--I have undone Him too. While he had means, he lent me
largely; and now a prison must be his portion.

_Mrs. Bev._ No; I hope otherwise.

_Bev._ To hope must be to act. The charitable wish feeds not the
hungry. Something must be done.

_Mrs. Bev._ What?

_Bev._ In bitterness of heart he told me, just now he told me, I had
undone him. Could I hear that, and think of happiness? No; I have
disclaimed it, while He is miserable.