SCENE X.—­Apartment in SETON’S House.

Sir Alex.—­Oh, what is honour to a father’s heart?  Can it extinguish nature—­soothe its feelings—­ Or make the small still voice of conscience dumb?  My sons! my sons!  Though ye should hold me guiltless, there’s a tongue Within me whispers, I’m your murderer! Ah! my Matilda! hadst thou been less noble, We both had been less wretched!  But do I, To hide my sin, place’t on the mother’s heart?  Though she did hide the mother from men’s eyes, Now, crushed by woes, she cannot look on mine.  But, locked in secret, weeps her soul away, That it may meet her children’s!  I alone, Widowed and childless, like a blasted oak Reft of its root and branches, must be left For every storm to howl at!

[ELLIOT enters with a dagger.

Ah, my sons! 
Could anguish rend my heartstrings, I should not
Behold another sun rise on my misery!

Elliot [springing upon him].—­By Heavens, mine enemy, I swear thou shalt not!

They struggle.  Shouting without.  Enter FRIAR and SETON’S SONS, PROVOST RAMSAY.  FRIAR springs forward.

Friar.—­Down! traitor, down! [Stabs ELLIOT.

Sir Alex.—­My sons! my sons!  Angels of mercy, do you mock my sight!  My boys! my boys!

Provost Ramsay.—­Save us a’! save us a’!—­callants, come to my arms too!  Here’s an hour o’ joy!  This, in my solemn opinion, is what I ca’ livin’ a lifetime in the twinklin’ o’ an ee.  And what think ye, Sir Alexander!  The English camp is a’ in a bleeze, and there they are fleeing awa helter-skelter, leaving everything behind them.

Sir Alex.—­What! they fly too!—­thank Heaven! thank Heaven!  My cup of joy o’erflows, and floods my heart More than my griefs!

Richard.—­’Tis true, my father—­ To this, our unknown saviour, do we owe Our life and yours!—­’twas he, too, seized the torch, And bid the bonfire blaze to Scotland’s freedom.

Sir Alex.—­Forgive me, reverend stranger, if that I,
In the delirium of a parent’s joy,
O’erlooked the hand that saved me: 
Kneel, my sons,
And with your father, at this stranger’s feet,
Pour out your thanks, and beg his blessing also.

[They kneel around the supposed friar, who casts off the disguise, and is discovered to be their mother.

Lady Seton.—­A mother, in her children’s cause, fears nothing,
And needs not thanks—­
A woman, in her country’s cause,
Can dare what man dare! [They start up.

Sir Alex.—­What! my Matilda!

Richard.—­My mother!

Henry.—­Ha! my mother!

Lady Seton.—­Joy, joy, my sons; your mother’s done her duty!  And joy, my husband, we have saved our honour.

Sir Alex.—­Matilda, thou hast ta’en my heart anew, And with it, too, my words!