Not so passionate, if you please, young lady! A hardened strumpet? You are surely using words whose full meaning you have not considered.
Does she not appear such, even from Lady Solmes's description? Well, Madam, you are her friend, perhaps her intimate friend. I do not say this as a reproach, for it may well be that it is hardly possible in this world to have virtuous friends only. Yet why should I be so humiliated for the sake of this friendship of yours? If I had had Marwood's experience, I should certainly not have committed the error which places me on such a humiliating level with her. But if I had committed it, I should certainly not have continued in it for ten years. It is one thing to fall into vice from ignorance; and another to grow intimate with it when you know it. Alas, Madam, if you knew what regret, what remorse, what anxiety my error has cost me! My error, I say, for why shall I be so cruel to myself any longer, and look upon it as a crime? Heaven itself ceases to consider it such; it withdraws my punishment, and gives me back my father.--But I am frightened, Madam; how your features are suddenly transformed! They glow-rage speaks from the fixed eye, and the quivering movement of the mouth. Ah, if I have vexed you, Madam, I beg for pardon! I am a foolish, sensitive creature; what you have said was doubtless not meant so badly. Forget my rashness! How can I pacify you? How can I also gain a friend in you as Marwood has done? Let me, let me entreat you on my knees (_falling down upon her knees_) for your friendship, and if I cannot have this, at least for the justice not to place me and Marwood in one and the same rank.
MARWOOD (_proudly stepping back and leaving Sara on her knees_).
This position of Sara Sampson is too charming for Marwood to triumph in it unrecognised. In me, Miss Sampson, behold the Marwood with whom on your knees you beg--Marwood herself--not to compare you.
SARA (_springing up and drawing back in terror_).
You Marwood? Ha! Now I recognise her--now I recognise the murderous deliverer, to whose dagger a warning dream exposed me. It is she! Away, unhappy Sara! Save me, Mellefont; save your beloved! And thou, sweet voice of my beloved father, call! Where does it call? Whither shall I hasten to it?--here?--there?--Help, Mellefont! Help, Betty! Now she approaches me with murderous hand! Help! (_Exit_.)