AGATHA. I now sought protection from the old clergyman of the parish.
He received me with compassion. On my knees I begged forgiveness for
the scandal I had caused to his parishioners; promised amendment; and
he said he did not doubt me. Through his recommendation I went to
town; and hid in humble lodgings, procured the means of subsistence by
teaching to the neighbouring children what I had learnt under the
tuition of my benefactress.---To instruct you, my Frederick, was my
care and delight; and in return for your filial love I would not thwart
your wishes when they led to a soldier's life: but 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?