Osw. There is a power in sounds: The cries he uttered might have stopped the boat That bore us through the water Mar. You returned Upon that dismal hearing-did you not? Osw. Some scoffed at him with hellish mockery, And laughed so loud it seemed that the smooth sea Did from some distant region echo us. Three sleepless nights I passed in sounding on, I saw that every possible shape of action Mar. We all are of one blood, our veins are filled Thirsting for some of those exploits that fill At the same poisonous fountain! Osw. The Crew I had been betrayed. All vanished. I gave way-do you attend? That was no life for me--I was o'erthrown, The earth for sure redemption of lost peace. A salient spring of energy; I mounted Mar. O wretched Human-kind! - Until the mystery Of all this world is solved, well may we envy Of popular applause. I now perceived That we are praised, only as men in us Do recognise some image of themselves, An abject counterpart of what they are, Or the empty thing that they would wish to be. Mar. I pity, can forgive, you; but those wretches That monstrous perfidy! Os. Life stretched before me smooth as some broad way Mar. "Tis a strange aching that, when we would curse And cannot. You have betrayed me I have done I am content I know that he is guiltless- And I had heart for this, because thou lovedst In slavery; all is slavery; we receive Laws, but we ask not whence those laws have come; We need an inward sting to goad us on. Mar. Have you betrayed me? Speak to that. Oow. The mask, Which for a season I have stooped to wear, Must be cast off.-Know then that I was urged, (For other impulse let it pass) was driven, To seek for sympathy, because I saw In you a mirror of my youthful self; I would have made us equal once again, But that was a vain hope. You have struck home, With a few drops of blood cut short the business; Therein for ever you must yield to me. Dragged from his bed, was cast into a dungeon, Elea. 'Tis my husband's foot. Good Eldred Has a kind heart; but his imprisonment Has made him fearful, and he 'll never be I will retire;-good night! be forgiven me ; it would not have been so once. Elea. You have not buried anything? You are no richer than when you left me? Eld. Be at peace; I am innocent. Elea. Then God be thanked [A short pause; she falls upon his neck. Eld. To-night I met with an old Man lying stretched upon the ground-a sad spectacle: 1 raised him up with a hope that we might shelter and restore him. Elea. (as if ready to run). Where is he? You were not able to bring him all the way with you; let us return, I can help you. [ELDRED shakes his head. Eld. He did not seem to wish for life as I was struggling on, by the light of the moon I saw the stains of blood upon my clothes-he waved his hand, as if it were all useless; and I let him sink again to the ground. Elea. Oh that I had been by your side! Eld. I tell you his hands and his body were cold -how could I disturb his last moments? he strove to turn from me as if he wished to settle into sleep. Elea. But, for the stains of blood Eld. He must have fallen, I fancy, for his head was cut; but I think his malady was cold and hunger. Elea. Oh, Eldred, I shall never be able to look up at this roof in storm or fair but I shall tremble. Eld. Is it not enough that my ill stars have kept me abroad to-night till this hour? I come home, and this is my comfort! Elea. But did he say nothing which might have set you at ease? Eld. I thought he grasped my hand while he was muttering something about his Child - his Daughter (starting as if he heard a noise). What is that? Elea. Eldred, you are a father. Eld. God knows what was in my heart, and will not curse my son for my sake. Elea. But you prayed by him? you waited the hour of his release? Eld. The night was wasting fast; I have no friend; I am spited by the world-his wound terrified me if I had brought him along with me, and he had died in my arms!I am sure I heard something breathing—and this chair! Elea. Oh, Eldred, you will die alone. You will have nobody to close your eyes-no hand to grasp your dying hand-I shall be in my grave. A curse will attend us all. Eld. Have you forgot your own troubles when I was in the dungeon? Elea. And you left him alive? Eld. Alive!-the damps of death were upon him -he could not have survived an hour. Elea. In the cold, cold night. Eld. (in a savage tone). Ay, and his head was bare; I suppose you would have had me lend my bonnet to cover it.-You will never rest till I am brought to a felon's end. Elea. Is there nothing to be done? cannot we go to the Convent? Eld. Ay, and say at once that I murdered him! Elea. Eldred, I know that ours is the only house upon the Waste; let us take heart; this Man may be rich; and could he be saved by our means, his gratitude may reward us. Eld. "Tis all in vain. Elea. But let us make the attempt. This old Man may have a wife, and he may have children -let us return to the spot; we may restore him, and his eyes may yet open upon those that love him. Eld. He will never open them more; even when he spoke to me, he kept them firmly sealed as if he had been blind. Idon. (rushing out). It is, it is, my FatherEld. We are betrayed (looking at IDONEA). Elea. His Daughter!-God have mercy! (turning to IDONEA). Idon. (sinking down). Oh! lift me up and carry me to the place. You are safe; the whole world shall not harm you. Elea. This Lady is his Daughter. Eld. (moved). I'll lead you to the spot. Idon. (springing up). Alive!-you heard him breathe? quick, quick— [Exeunt. A human voice distinct, struck on my ear. So guided, distant a few steps, I found An aged Man, and such as you describe. Mar. You heard !—he called you to him? Of all men The best and kindest !-but where is he? guide me, On a ridge of rocks To pull the cord. I guess he must have heard it; His staff had dropped, and close upon the brink As if he had stooped to drink, and so remained Eld. Of our distress-and thou art one of them! E Mar. Oh Monster! Monster! there are three of us, And we shall howl together. [After a pause and in a feeble voice. At my worst need, my crimes have in a net [Dragging him along. Eld. 'Tis needless; spare your violence. Daughter And doth call out for vengeance. Do not add, I prithee, to the harm thou 'st done already. Mar. Ay, in the word a thousand scorpions lodge: To do with others; help me to my FatherThis old man had a Daughter. Eld. To the spot I hurried back with her.-O save me, Sir, For twenty lives. The daylight dawned, and now— Rose from the spot ;-the Daughter clapped her And then I heard a shriek so terrible [MARMADUKE shrinks back. The startled bird quivered upon the wing. [She turns and sees MARMADUKE leaning on ELEANOR In joy I met thee, but a few hours past; Idon. Mar. Oh, peace! He is at peace; |