University of Virginia Library

SCENE II.

An apartment in a roadside hostelry. Fireplace. Drayton, Miles, and Holme seated at table before the fire; on table a bottle of wine and glasses. A large screen behind them divides the apartment.
Dray.
Alone?

Miles.
[Looking behind the screen.]
Not a mouse hears.

Dray.
Then one last cup
To our patron ere we move.

Holme.
Drink deep—Success
To Russell and his mission! [All drink.]
Now or never
Is the adventure's time. The people's heart
Would leap to it.

Dray.
These Dutchmen never hurry.

Miles.
Fill up! Our task's done, and we've baffled Bancroft.

Holme.
We're safer, being these twenty miles apart.
I liked not his close conference with Lord Revesdale.

Dray.
No danger there; a Revesdale ne'er betrayed.
And my lord was in our power, having signed to treason,
Whose penalty is death.

Holme.
[Refilling his glass.]
So his lands are sold!

Dray.
It had been gold well spent had some we wot of
Bought Revesdale Castle. Here's the plan of't—see!
A height commanding all the bay.

[He exhibits the plan, and, as they examine and discuss it, Revesdale enters with the Landlord unobserved.
Reves.
[Apart to Landlord.]
Wine, host,
And a fresh horse! and quickly. I'd reach home
Ere night. [Landlord goes out.]
Disastrous chance, that called my friend
From his house before I reached it, and so wasted
My day in the vain hope of his return!
[Landlord re-enters with salver and bottle of wine and glass, and places them on table. Landlord goes out.
Strangers!

[He retires to back of screen and sits.
Dray.
Ay, Revesdale Castle's in bad hands.

Miles.
In upstart Ringwood's, who refused our league,
Because, forsooth, the cause lacked better vouchers!

Holme.
How brooks the proud Lord Basil to see Ringwood
Master of Revesdale?

Miles.
Soon to wed his sister.

Holme.
A bridegroom who should blazon on his shield
Three vats, with crest—a malt-sack!

Dray.
'Tis well Revesdale
Has been of late from home; though they were friends,
He'd scarcely brook young Ringwood's license, or
This gossip on his sister.

[All laugh and rise.
Holme.
But that tale
Touching her chamber! It's mere jest?

Dray.
'Tis sworn to
By our landlord's niece, a dweller in the village,
Who, having business with the lady, entered
The room inopportunely.

[Renewed laughter.
Reves.
[Starting up, and advancing to them.]
May I share
Your pleasant secret, sirs?

Miles.
My lord!

Reves.
Go on!
My sister and her chamber? Stint not breath;
I would laugh too.

Dray.
Your sister?

Reves.
Ay, her chamber?

Dray.
[Hesitating.]
My lord, it has been new furnished in your absence
To suit young Ringwood's taste.

Miles.
Whereat we laughed

Holme.
No offence, I hope?

Reves.
Beware! You're warned; beware—

Dray.
Nay, nay; we fear not threats; but own the claim
Of your misfortunes. If in light discourse,
We have given unmeant offence, accept our sorrow,
And grant your pardon. [Revesdale bows haughtily, and walks apart.]
Come, the day wears down.

Holme.
Have with you!

Dray.
[To Miles, who refills his glass.]
Sirrah, d'ye mean
To sit your horse?

Miles.
[Draining his glass.]
There, there!

Dray.
Good day, my lord!

[Drayton, Miles, and Holme go out.
Reves.
[Coming forward.]
My lands are sold then;
Revesdale now is Ringwood's!
To-day, these men came from the very spot
That was our home—was for five hundred years!
What meant their mirth about my sister's chamber?
There lurked beneath it more than they expressed.
'Tis plain that all men know young Ringwood's suit,
And her consent. [After a pause, with uncontrollable passion.]
Would hurricanes had strewed
Earth with my towers! would that the earth, our soil,
Had gaped, and so engulfed them!—Wed Felicia!
Our blood that sprang from mountain heights of time,
Caught glory's rays while all below was dark—
Had fate no blast to freeze, no torrid heat
To scorch, even to its bed, that stream, or e'er
It lapsed into a sluice, and turned a mill-wheel?
Well, well; well, well!

[Drinks excitedly, and throws himself into chair.
Enter Bancroft.
Ban.
Are those I sought not here?
Mine host is ignorant, or bribed. [Aside.]
How, Revesdale!
He meets my very wish. That scrupulous sense
Called honour sways him so, that in cool blood
'Twere vain to tempt him; but I've news will lash
His passions into fury—fact, broad fact,
The man whom most he hates his sister's guest,
And by a village matron found last night
Where no foot but a husband's should intrude!
This, if I know my lord, shall gain my ends,
And so arouse his pride, that, like a sea,
In fury, and unconscious, he'll cast up
His inmost secrets. [Feigning surprise.]
Ah! whom do I look on?
Lord Revesdale? 'Tis my honoured lord!

Reves.
[Fiercely.]
Your will?
Why mock with this feigned respect a ruined outcast?

Ban.
Because you are one; I can show respect,
And not be thought to flatter.

Reves.
[Recklessly.]
Right!—At least
I'm a gainer that way!

Ban.
[Aside.]
Wine or rage, or both,
Have fevered him. The better!—you've heard all?

Reves.
[Aside.]
Peace, heart! Such griefs as thine are not to prate of,
As hawkers prate their ballads.—Yes, sir, all.

Ban.
That your castle's sold?

Reves.
Ay.

Ban.
And to whom?

Reves.
That, too.

Ban.
You bear it nobly. Strangers were more loud
In your behalf than you. No man would bid
For your inheritance, save Arthur Ringwood.

Reves.
It fell to him cheaply, then?

Ban.
This fortitude,
Though I rejoice at it, seems more than natural.
Dull wit! You have compounded with young Ringwood,
Renewed your friendship! To be sure you have!
Well, well! 'Twas prudent; you had no resource
But to yield your sister, and to trust his bounty.

Reves.
You're venturous, sir!

Ban.
Plague on't! my rough, blunt way.
I might have guessed before
That you were reconciled, or he had not dared,
While Revesdale yet was yours, to come there wooing,
Against your strict command.

Reves.
When I left home—
I mean, left Revesdale?

Ban.
There the next day found him,
The next to that, the third; at last he stayed.

Reves.
Stayed! where? at Revesdale? and my sister?

Ban.
There
I'm baffled. If with your leave he wooed her, why
Forget all caution in his interviews,
And draw men's gossip on her?

Reves.
Gossip!

Ban.
Well,
I'm loth to call it scandal, but the world
Will judge by what it sees.

Reves.
Judge what? [Bancroft averts his face.]
Judge what?

Ban.
What would you judge yourself, if a gallant,
Unwedded, sought a maiden in her home,
No father near, nor brother, she alone—
Sought her at eve, and had not left at dawn?
At least, he slept at Revesdale yesternight.

Reves.
'Neath the same roof with her?

Ban.
Yes, one despatched
On an errand to your sister, unawares
Entering the boudoir which adjoins her chamber,
Found him there late.

Reves.
In her chamber?

Ban.
Nay, I said
The adjoining room; now, though I charge no guilt—

Reves.
Guilt! Guilt!

Ban.
You're so intemperate; I but say
'Twas indiscreet!

Reves.
'Twas indiscreet! Ah! now
The jests those men cast on her flash upon me
In their foul sense! Felicia, a theme
For ribald tongues, a name for reeking lips
To mouth between the drainings of a flagon,
A key-note to the chorus of such laughter
As shakes a tavern!

Ban.
[Aside.]
The gale whistles now!

Reves.
My innocent one, that in her orphanhood
Flew to my bosom dovelike; whose small hand
Our dying mother clasped in mine to guard,
And sanctified love's natural bonds at birth,
By prayers in death; my darling, whom I loved
Even as my better self! O traitor! why
Not thrust at my heart only? Stripped, forlorn,
And humbled, one pang more had cost me little.
But she, my sister! There be eyes in heaven
That would forget the patience of the place,
And haunt me with reproach if I forgave him!

Ban.
'Tis sure he failed in decent reverence to her.

Reves.
Nay, had she been mere pulseless stone, she stood
Niched in the pure tradition of our honour
To bend men's thoughts in homage; but herself,
Whose very life is purity, whose love,
Thought, grace, flow from its fount, all purity—
To foul that stream of crystal from the urn
Of shadowing ages! O, his star ascends
And mine dies out; but from my ashes leaps
A comet that shall cross his rising orb
With fiery portent in the midst of heaven!
Would we were met!

Ban.
Why?

Reves.
Ah, why, why? He seeks
To blend with the blood of Revesdale, not to spill it—
He'd tell me so, I doubt not!

Ban.
Pity 'tis
That you met ever.

Reves.
[Traversing the room impetuously, as if speaking to himself.]
Be that hour accursed!
Accursed the shows of genial fellowship
And truth that won me to him! Cursed my weak
And womanish pity that, while we were strangers,
Sealed up my servants' lips that eagerly
Sought to denounce his treason!

Ban.
[Aside.]
Mad with rage,
He knows not what he utters! Treason! Nay—

Reves.
It perilled his head, though. Norris, Hurst, and others
Of my following, heard it from his own confession.

Ban.
[Musing.]
Norris and Hurst! Some skirmish then. [Approaching Revesdale.]
I say
Some petty skirmish, then?

Reves.
[Impatiently.]
Ay, ay, his sword
Drawn for the rebels while they fled or rallied.
I know not nor remember. I but felt
His danger and my pity.

Ban.
[Aside.]
Hurst and Norris
May have better memories.—And he stung the heel
That, raised, could crush him.

Reves.
Peace!

Ban.
His very life
Lying in your grasp,—you see!

Reves.
Not I!

Ban.
That's strange.
He is a traitor; you, with Hurst and Norris,
Could prove him such.

[Laying his hand familiarly on Revesdale's arm.
Reves.
Off, sir! [Throws off Bancroft.]
I spear the foe
That dares me with his tusk; but I don't chase him
To pitfalls for the butcher!

Ban.
Humph! the king
May be less precise in his hunting.

Reves.
Ah! You would not—

Ban.
Fair journey to your lordship.

[Going.
Reves.
Bancroft, stay!

Ban.
Not now; you're ruffled, and you shook me off
As the bloodhound's paws had soiled you. [Aside.]
Hurst and Norris!
[Bancroft goes out.

Reves.
[After a pause, as if bewildered.]
What have I done? Now do I see his drift.
The villain who would tempt me thus would lie
Or colour truth to dupe me. I'll pursue
And drag him back! But wherefore? Could I chain
His limbs, his tongue were free. That must be stilled
At any cost! [Moves to the door.]
His horse's hoofs! They trample
Upon a living path—my honour! Yes,
I've betrayed Ringwood! ay, betrayed—the sin
Of basest cowards. Vain to say my words
Flew from me like the unconscious sparks from iron
That's hammered when afire;—'twas in the furnace
Of my own pride I let this demon heat me,
And beat me to his shaping! Fool, whose hand,
Clutching the shows of nobleness, let slip
The very thing! And Arthur—ah, why linger?
They may be on his track, his life the game,
And not a voice to warn! [Seizing his hat and cloak.
I should have wings
To save him! Ah, what wing will overtake
Those angels who have fled me—Peace and Honour!

[He rushes out.