University of Virginia Library

SCENE V.

—Bank on L. A Landscape.
Jarvis Dane (L.) and Susanna (R.)
Jarvis.
I know not how it is, Susanna;
Of all the things of beauty that beset
This place, on foot or wing, you are the hardest
To ensnare.

Susanna.
Jarvis, you 're a fool:
That you know well.

Jarvis.
Come, comfort me and make me
Less like one, by smiling on me.

Susanna.
My mind is elsewhere—see you not,
There has a chillness crept into the air
Since forth we walked? The bilberries wear
A blue cold look, and the breezy murmur
Of the brookside flags has trouble in it.
There 's Gideon Bodish, look Jarvis,
[R. H.
With hunting flushed, or pale—panther, or wolf,
[Crosses to L. H.
Or hawk, or deer, I 'd give an ear to know.
Run, Jarvis, that 's a good swain, and bring me word,
And mark if Gideon be not the chief
Of the returned.

Jarvis.
You talk too much of Gideon Bodish,
Mistress Peache; aye, too much—I know his height,
For I have seen him stand under
The knotted maple-tree, each knot a foot;
His girth, by better measure than your arm,
When we have spanned for heft and strength.

Susanna.
And of his color, Jarvis, what of that?

Jarvis.
Pale apple on a ground of air: and growing,
Thanks to heaven, paler every day.

[Aside.
Susanna.
His gait and motion of his arms?

Jarvis.
Oh, Gideon is the angel of our wilderness—
And though he walks it without wings—these are
Graceful, of course, as the elm-branches
Waving! There—his description 's done in full,
And done forever: and for his mother, Ambla—

Susanna.
Speak no ill of her, I beg; hush now, least
She hear you—a fearful woman is she,
With no cause to fear her.

Jarvis.
You are a child, Susanna, that see a moon
In the clear sky, at all times of the day,
A round plump moon. Come by my side, and think,
Of what I told you last Ember-day.

Susanna.
You did not speak with me on Ember-day,
At all: for I was sick a-bed.

Jarvis.
You rogue, you know—Pray recollect the tap
You dealt my brown face with your white hand!—

Susanna.
Nothing I know of that—it would have been
A sharper stroke if any.

Jarvis.
What, when we leaned
Out at the window, as to reach the passion-flower,
And whispered privily?—Did I not tell you, then,
That you were Salem's fairest daughter,
That in the field and in the house, by stream
And wood and sea-side lonely, I thought of you—
Circling your gentle heart with this same arm,
Did I not say, as now I say, and ever,
Ever shall, I love you!

Susanna.
You 've dreamed a dream.

Jarvis.
Then might I never wake!

Susanna.
Stay where you are,
Until the night comes on, a good deep cold one
Promises, and you may have your wish—would
That you might. My thoughts wander from this,
And I will follow them.
[Exit Susanna, R. H.

Jarvis.
Cruel and heartless! what mischief can it be
Which breeds changed thoughts in her, that to be loved
And beautiful should never change!
Her liking is a plague, that kills and keeps alive;
She meets me smiling, and begins discourse,
Joyous and free, but ere a little hour has passed,
As in her mind, upon the thought she utters,
There comes another thought, e'en while she speaks,
Takes all the youthful life from out her voice,
And puts a singular fear in it:—I see
The hand that rules her ways—'t is Gideon Bodish
Crosses me, as he has ever crossed me!
As boy 'gainst boy, he proudly baffled me
In childish sports—a man, in the field's games
Or toils, past me he sweeps, with flashing looks
And glittering scythe and victor-arm, as though
I were ever his servant shadow
To lag behind. Beware, thou eager youth!
For this shall be thy fate—the crafty taking
Of this false and fickle girl's green love, shall be
Thy late, but deep and certain overthrow—
Look to thyself—thy doom is now begun!

[Exit L. H.