_Flor._ Oh, father; do not urge this suit!

_Sir Sim._ Girl! I will leave thee nought if thou
dost not--save my curse!

_Flor._ No, no!

_Sir Sim._ All my hopes----'Tis very odd. Stop,
stop! I have a pain here, here! Wilt thou promise?

_Basil._ Murderess!

_Flor._ I will do all. O God!

_Enter ARTHUR, L._

_Sir Sim._ Who is this? 'Tis their father! I
promised him that Arthur should wed my daughter.
He is come to claim her, and see, he beckons me--

[_Falls back and dies in the chair, servants bear him off, R._]

_Basil._ Dead, dead! I am frustrated.

_Flor._ Oh, Arthur! look to my father.

_Arth._ [_Returning and supporting her._] Thou hast
no father, Florence! I have a home for thee, with
one that's young and gentle like thyself. [_She faints._]