University of Virginia Library

SCENE III.

Corridor in Lorn Castle. A small table, with writing materials, and lighted taper, chair, &c.
Enter Hamilton and Craigburn.
Ham.
Thus far no signs of flinching. By his guidance
We've gained the fortress, seized the man of blood,
And straight proceed to trial.

Craig.
Yet I fear,
Lest creature pity should in Strathmore's heart
O'ermaster duty. It devolves on him,
As chief in rank, to be the prisoner's judge.

Ham.
Let's to him.

Craig.
And remember, if he fail,
We must assume his office. Lorn must die.

[Hamilton and Craigburn go out.
Enter Roland, followed hastily by Janet.
Janet.
Not that way, Master, Master—what's your name?

Rol.
[Clasping his hands with a Puritanical air.]
In the flesh, Roland: and thy name, young damsel?

Janet.
[Imitating him.]
In the flesh, Janet. If a saint like you
Can e'er feel hunger, there's good beef and ale
Waiting your pleasure.

Rol.
I've no creature wants.

Janet.
[Aside.]
Now must I ply him as my mistress bade.
[Aloud.]
I prythee come; I find such benefit
In devout company; and grant one favour.
There are, 'midst Strathmore's followers, some brave hearts
My mistress knew of old, and fain would speak with.

Rol.
She'll bring me into trouble. Hence, avoid thee!
See'st thou not I'm a vessel? [Aside.]
Of a surety
The damsel's comely.

Janet.
Nay, thou'lt not refuse?

Rol.
[Aside.]
I fear the carnal man is strong within me.
Lo, I will testify! Thou shalt no more
Entice me with thine eyes, which are a snare.

Janet.
I will not.

Rol.
Nor entice me with thy lips,
Which are a net.

Janet.
I say I will not.

Rol.
Neither
Shalt thou gaze in my face unlawfully;
Nor take my hand thus.

[Taking her hand.
Janet.
You surprise me.

Rol.
No;
Nor, worst of all—

Janet.
[Struggling.]
I will not, sir—

Rol.
Do this.

[Kisses her.
Janet.
[Breaking away.]
Shame! shame! you have forgot you are a vessel.

[Janet goes out.
Rol.
Faith, I half like the jade; and little like
The work that brings me here. I saw the old man
Torn from his children's arms. I fear the worst.

Enter Brycefield.
Bryce.
This is a sorry business.

Rol.
Sorry, sir;
It takes away all relish for my food.
'Twill break my sleep. Think of the old knight's daughters.

Bryce.
[Musing.]
So fair, 'tis strange that neither yet are wed.

Rol.
There's Lady Isabel. What eyes! Their flash
Half blinds you, till a hazy sorrow comes
To let one see their brightness. Then her voice!
'Tis the proud sad smile speaking. Time has been
You would have risked your life for her least whisper.

Bryce.
What say you, rogue?

Rol.
That she's a helpless woman,
And you a soldier.

Bryce.
[Aside.]
Does he read my thought?
I have drunk in her beauty till it floods
Each vein and pulse. To call her mine—to grasp
At once both love and fortune—'twere a prize
Indeed for the spurned beggared cavalier!
She comes! Withdraw, sir.

Rol.
Hey, they're winsome dears!

[Roland goes out.
Enter Isabel and Katharine; the latter sits apart absorbed.
Isa.
How, Master Brycefield! We entreat a boon.

Bryce.
You grant one if you grant the right to serve you.

Isa.
[Aside.]
I like not those smooth tones. My sister, too.

Bryce.
[Bowing low.]
Lady, she is your sister.

Isa.
[Aside.]
There again!
I took him for a friend; but ours, I fear,
Must be a game of wits; we'll say, a game
At chess.

Bryce.
[Aside, catching her last words.]
A game at chess! What does she mean?

Isa.
You have the ordering of Sir Rupert's guard.
Our prayer is this—that you set over him
Strathmore's own followers. They're of better nurture
Than their rude comrades, and at least will show
Sorrow, respect.

Bryce.
'Tis done.

Isa.
[Aside.]
So the game opens.
That's move the first.

Bryce.
Your next command?

Isa.
Request—
That privately you send for and admit
Sir Rupert's chaplain. The good man dwells near.

[Shows a letter.
Bryce.
That letter's for him?

Isa.
Read it.

Bryce.
If you insist. [Reads, then aside.]
No danger. This concealment
Is against my captain's orders; but—

Isa.
Well, friend?

Bryce.
[Significantly.]
I obey yours.

Isa.
I thank you. Shall I seal
The letter? [She takes it to the lighted taper, and, watching him narrowly, drops the seal—a ring.]
The seal's fallen.

Bryce.
Madam!

[He stoops for the seal.
Isa.
[Aside.]
Now,
To drop these lines in. [She takes from her bosom a note, and places it in the letter, which she quickly folds. Brycefield rises and gives her the seal.]
Sir, I trouble you.
[Aside.]
He has not seen it. Move the second!

Bryce.
Trouble!
And to your friend!

Isa.
[Sealing the letter, and giving it to him.]
Who saved my father's life
Were more than friend—a brother!

Bryce.
That's a joy
Beyond my hope. And yet, I would outwear
My brain in plots, my knee in prayers to Strathmore,
If that might save Sir Rupert. Meanwhile, duties—
In which I rank your interest chief—demand me.

[Offers his hand.
Isa.
[After a pause, giving him her hand.]
Farewell! I will not thank your zeal with words.

Bryce.
[Who bows and retires, aside.]
No! not with words, bright siren, save they pledge
A richer payment; not thy gifts, but thee.

[He goes out.
Isa.
[To Katharine.]
He deems your father mine, and, as I think,
Suspects not I am married; these thick gems
Have hid so well the slender marriage pledge.
It might be well to fix him in his error,
I see his selfish game. Had he been worthy,
I'd trusted all with him; being false, I'll use him.
I stoop but for your father.

Kath.
Ah, my father!

Isa.
Laments are vain. When danger threats, they hinder;
Should the worst chance, yourself must plead with Strath-
And when it bursts, avail not. Katharine, more!

Kath.
Nay, not that name!

Isa.
Remember, though you loathe him,
He holds your father's life.

Kath.
My father! Strathmore!
My sense drifts helpless on this tide of horror!
Loathe him! loathe Strathmore! Why? He's here, you say;
Why came he?

Isa.
Well you know—with bloody men
In league against your father.

Kath.
To destroy him?

Isa.
Why ask?

Kath.
And Strathmore was his friend?

Isa.
His friend!

Kath.
And knew their purpose, yet he came!

Isa.
To aid it.

Kath.
Wait—wait! Ha, ha! The blackness bursts, 'tis day!

Isa.
What mean you?

Kath.
That he came, a friend with foes,
Knowing their hate to curb it. He is here
To save my father! Loathe thee, loathe thee, Halbert!
I trust and bless thee.

Isa.
This is madness!

Kath.
No,
Tis reason's safeguard, the last hold it grasps;
Uproot it, and I perish. In, dear sister,
Wait but this hour's event!

Isa.
Alas!

Kath.
Remonstrance
But kills where it would save. Come, come, let's in.

[They go out.