University of Virginia Library

SCENE I.

An oak chamber in Revesdale Castle; door at back leading to chapel. Night.
Enter Alice and Richard, bearing lamp, and ushering in Arthur Ringwood.
Alice.
This way, your honour—this way, Master Arthur.
May it prove a joyful day, or rather night.
You're kindly welcome.

Rich.
Welcome! You forget
'Tis for the young squire here to welcome us.
The Castle now is his.

Alice.
How thy wits wander!

Arth.
What says good Alice?

Rich.
Nay, she'll not believe
That you've bought Revesdale, and are lord of it.

Alice.
Revesdale's the lord of Revesdale. In the time
Of my grandsire's grandsire, it had been so years
Beyond his count.

Arth.
It was so then.

Alice.
What then was
Must be so still. I'm grown too old to change.

Arth.
Too faithful, say.

Alice.
I see now why my son
Called you the lord of Revesdale. 'Tis because
You'll wed the lady of Revesdale. [To Richard.]
Thy poor wits
That once wast shrewd! 'Tis not the wife gives rank,
But the husband. Rest ye, gentles, for awhile;
I'll bring my beauty to ye, my dear child—
I'll bring the bride anon.

[She goes out.
Enter Matthew Ringwood.
Mat.
The priest attends,
And all's prepared. A word with you, friend Richard,
On this near marriage.

Arth.
His true service claims
Full confidence. [To Richard.]
Your lady takes a husband
In her brother's absence—nay, against his will.
You like not that, nor I; but reasons strong
And just enforce it.

Rich.
What my mistress does
Must needs be right.

Arth.
True; but your lord being adverse,
We would not use such public ceremony
As might offend him; therefore hold our union
Private, as we would have it.

Rich.
I'll be heedful.

[He retires to back, and occupies himself in arranging the apartment.
Mat.
So Revesdale now is ours! and thy Felicia
Knows why we bought the Castle and domain?

Arth.
She does. I told her, that should chance restore
Her brother's wealth, it should again be his.

Mat.
A costly purchase! Ringwood must be sold
To stock our empty coffers. But for that,
Its old walls had received you.

Rich.
See, my mistress!

Enter Felicia in bridal attire, accompanied by Alice.
Fel.
[To Alice.]
Await me here. [Advancing.]
An unattended bride,
No kindred nor companions to present me
To my dear lord, I do present myself.

Arth.
There is no herald to thy love so fit
As its own music.

Mat.
Bless you for his sake,
My brave, true child!

Arth.
And yet my heart, Felicia,
Half shrinks to take its treasure. If one doubt—

Fel.
There's no doubt—can be none.—Arthur, I've weighed
Each point of duty. Basil, ere he went,
Left me these written words:—“By all that makes
An oath inviolable, on my return
You part from Ringwood or from me. Obey,
Or seek a separate home.” That oath he'll keep.
His journey's to your rival's house, in hopes
His suit may shake my purpose. To await
Basil's return, what were it but to wage
A fruitless strife, and widen for no cause
Our household wounds? In all becomes a sister
I'd drain my heart for him; but in that love
Which holds not of our kin, but straight from heaven,
Doth blend two souls in one—who owns that claim,
Must own it paramount.

Arth.
O, pardon me,
If jealousy for thy pure nobleness
Makes question still. What if our union, private,
Unknown beyond these walls, yet linking us
In closest contract, draw on thee reproach
From the malignant? What if they should say—

Mat.
What can they say, but that an honoured lady
Receives two honoured guests? In a few days
Her brother will return, and all be told.

Fel.
My love past doubt, I'll place beyond dispute.

Alice.
[Coming forward.]
Now, ladybird, the priest
Attends; my darling's stayed for.

Mat.
May Heaven's grace
Bless thee, my daughter! 'Tis some forty years
Since, as that boy stands now, I stood with one
Gentle and fair like thee. She left me him
For my age's solace; and I think, though friends
Are scanty here, perhaps an angel's eyes
Look on these bridals. There!—don't think that grief
Flows in these drops. I see the future through them,
The happy future!—Basil reconciled,
As he must be when he knows us, a glad group
Round the old man at the hearth, and, in good time,
Perhaps upon his knees—What was I saying?
Lean on your bridesman, girl. Now, boy, your arm
To Mistress Alice!

Arth.
Alice!

Alice.
Sir, that ever—

Arth.
[Placing her arm in his.]
I shall claim my kiss!

Alice.
Ah, well-a-day!

Mat.
Come, daughter!

[Arthur with Alice, Matthew with Felicia, go into the adjoining chapel, from which the music of an organ is heard, Richard lighting them.