University of Virginia Library

Chapter III.

• Ellen, Wife of Colonel Delmont.
• Adolphus, her Son, aged seven years.
• Hannah, an old and faithful Domestic.

Scene—An Apartment, near the Garrison.
ELLEN.
Well, Hannah, he is here, and safe at last;
But grant him no such liberty again,
What! cross the river from the garrison!—
You shall have neither boat nor spear, young sir,
If you attempt such silly risks again.

ADOLPHUS.
But oh, I must mamma, must have my spear.
My father said that I might have my spear;
When I'm a man, I am to be soldier.

HANNAH.
First be a man, a soldier afterwards;
But, boy, use manhood better than thy sire.

ADOLPHUS.
What is that you say, nurse?

ELLEN.
Hark, hark! the troops are marching by the door;
Go out, and watch; 'tis fine to see them march! [Exit Adolphus.]

Your faithfulness, my Hannah, warrants much;
And I o'erlook the heat and hastiness
Which are the flaws of your incautious zeal:
Say, was it well to speak before the boy?
A single seed implanted in his mind
May grow to flower, and sweeten his young life,
Or turn to weed, and poison all his days.
He should learn nothing ill against his sire:
He will learn nothing, if thou lov'st his mother.

HANNAH.

ELLEN.
Again too hot; but 'tis thy over zeal—
A failing of thy temper, not thy truth.
Therefore no more: you fill mine ears with tales,
My heart with tears, my mind with misery,
And then urge faithfulness in brief excuse.
If Delmont loves not now, he loved me once;
If he's indifferent, haply 'twas my fault;
If harsh and cold, where should his faults be hid
But in the bosom of his truthful wife?
It may not be that he is all to blame;
I have a hundred faults, which being slight
Are haply not less difficult to bear.
I am too serious, silent, spiritless,
For one enamoured of society.
His gaiety—

HANNAH.
Would it were gaiety, and nothing more!

ELLEN.
Of what dare any one accuse him more?

HANNAH.
Men speak to one another what they ne'er
Dream of proclaiming to an injured wife;
None, save a creature over-warm for prudence,
Would let her tongue put place in jeopardy.
I list the things which gain no entrance here,
Things that would change this confidence to doubt.

ELLEN.
Doubt? Never!—
I'd tear the traitorous portion from my heart
Which dared to doubt his honour:—Doubt?

HANNAH.
The wisest doubt.
Doubt all things, and of all things Man the most.
Your husband . . . . .

ELLEN,
incensed.
Nurse!—

HANNAH.
I say your husband wrongs you.

ELLEN.
One truth you've learnt—which is, that I can love.
One truth you've yet to learn—that I can hate.

HANNAH.
Wilt thou go with me, and believe thine ears? [Ellen hesitates.]

In one brief hour the boat will place us where
There'll need no second voice to prove him false.
Wilt thou go with me?

ELLEN.
To prove him false!

HANNAH.
The boat is at the stair.

ELLEN.
[Passes over to Hannah, then pauses.]

HANNAH.
Nor thine own ears believe?

ELLEN.
No—nor mine eyes.
No, ere these eyes could witness to his shame,
My heart would blind them with its own quick tears
And shut out truth for ever. There's a word,
A word—a little word—so full of love,
'Twould hold its faith against a world of proof;
That word is Wife!

HANNAH.
[Ellen starts, but expresses dissent.]

ELLEN.
'Tis false! impossible! but now I see
Thou art resolved indeed to drive me mad.

[Walks agitatedly.]
HANNAH.
He owns no rite, acknowledges no priest;
Nay, even now, wooes one into the toil
Through which he lured thine unsuspecting truth.
But he must hire some other knavish priest;
He who wed thee is dead!

ELLEN.
Dead! the priest who wed us, dead!
Denies his marriage!—wedding, dost thou say?
Then what am I? and what, O heaven! my child?

HANNAH.
I spoke to rouse, not sink thy nature thus:
I bring thee truth, put in its boldest shape,
To stir thee into action,—thou must act!—
But ere thou act'st—must hope!

ELLEN.
Hope?—woman's hope?—Oh! 'tis the breath of heaven,
The iris of her being! but her fate
Is in the breath of man, and there, alas!
All things of heaven do wither and consume.
O my poor brother! should his dungeon-walls
Repeat one echo of this misery,
How will he wrench the chains which bind his limbs!
He dare not do it!—though priest be dead,
And evidence removed—he dare not do it!
I have a brother still—

HANNAH.
Would he were here!

ELLEN.
He will be here!—
As surely as the deed, he will be here!
Heaven hath the means to work out its intents:
I look from justice thwarted upon earth,
To Justice throned above.

HANNAH.
At last then thou'rt convinced?

ELLEN.
[With broken utterance, but gathering hope as she proceeds.]
No, not convinced; not quite—not quite—convinced;
He may have enemies,
Traducers, slanderers of his simplest act;
The best are not exempt from calumny!
Thou hast confounded—not convinced me yet:
Thou'lt see . . . I know . . . his manner's light . . . he's gay.
He says a thousand things which are to him
Mere straws, mere feathers of his conversation,
And these, if misinterpreted, might lead . . .
Yes, yes . . . 'tis plain; some word misunderstood,
Some courtly phrase, some passing gallantry,
Which vanity hath construed into love—
Devotion—passion!—No—still, still I trust!
Still in my husband's honour I confide!
I stake my life on that which being lost
Leaves life but worthless.

Enter Adolphus, running.
[ADOLPHUS.]
My father's boat is floating by the walls,
May I run to him, mother?—may I? may I?

ELLEN.
To whom, my child?

ADOLPHUS.
My father.—I saw his boat upon the—
Why do you weep, dear mother?—I'll not go,
If going makes you weep.

ELLEN.
All is not lost whilst thou art left, my child,
All is not darkness whilst I see thy face. [Kisses him.]

Oh! fail me not, my heart, but bear me up
Till he himself his own accuser prove—
Then break, and give me rest—and give me rest!

[She sinks into a chair, Adolphus embracing her, Hannah weeping; scene closes.]