_Char._ And hatred for the cause. Would you had that too!

_Bev._ I have. The cause was avarice.

_Char._ And who the tempter?

_Bev._ A ruined friend. Ruined by too much kindness,

_Lew._ Ay, worse than ruined; stabbed in his fame; mortally stabbed.
Riches can't cure him.

_Bev._ Or if they could, those I have drained him of. Something of
this he hinted in the morning--that Lewson had suspicions of
him--Why these suspicions?
[_Angrily._

_Lew._ At school we knew this Stukely. A cunning plodding boy he
was, sordid and cruel. Slow at his talk, but quick at shifts and
tricking. He schemed out mischief, that others might be punished;
and would tell his tale with so much art, that for the lash he
merited, rewards and praise were given him. Shew me a boy with such
a mind, and time that ripens manhood in him, shall ripen vice too.
I'll prove him, and lay him open t'you. Till then be warned. I know
him, and therefore shun him.

_Bev._ As I would those that wrong him. You are too busy, Sir.

_Mrs. Bev._ No, not too busy--Mistaken perhaps--That had been milder.

_Lew._ No matter, madam. I can bear this, and praise the heart that