 | Glencoe |  |
SCENE I.
The Tower of Halbert.Time—Noon of the Sixteenth Day.
Enter Henry Macdonald.
HENRY.
Will no one answer me?—I call in vain;—
And must pass on without that glimpse of Helen
I came to win.
[Kenneth crosses the stage.
Stay fellow; where's my mother?
KENNETH.
She is preparing for our master's wedding,
Of which our notice has been short; 'twas yesterday
Appointed for to-morrow.
HENRY.
Halbert's wedding!—
That's pleasant news, though strange;—to think my brother,
My solemn brother, all this time in love!
He has not trusted me; so I must ask
Of you, the fair one's name.
KENNETH.
Name!—surely, sir,
It could be none but Helen Campbell.
61
Cease
Your jesting with that name, or with my sword
I'll try to teach you manners.
KENNETH.
Jesting, sir!—
We have little jesting here;—although these walls
Will ring for once, when our dear master gives them
So kind a mistress.
HENRY.
Dare you mock me? No!—
I will not vent my rage on you;—if this
Is not a jest, tell your kind mistress,—here
Henry Macdonald waits her!—bid her come
And answer to him as she loves her life.
KENNETH.
I'll seek her, sir.
HENRY.
Begone.
[Exit Kenneth.
Can this be true?
Yes; that poor knave would never dare invent
A tale so monstrous;—but it passes all
My lightest comrades tell of woman's falsehood.
How will they scoff at me—duped and despised
By this meek mountain damsel—cast aside
For a dull dreamer of the rocks, who dared
To school me with his wisdom! Wise, indeed,
The lady has become, to leave my hopes
Of wealth and glory for these crazy walls,
And solemn disputations. 'Tis a jest,
I'faith a merry one!—her uncle, too,
My captain and my friend!—Most generous brother,
I'll mar your triumph yet.
62
O you are here!
HELEN.
Yes; on a summons couch'd in terms more harsh
Than needful: I had come on lightest word
That spoke your wish to see me.
HENRY.
Do you talk
To me of harshness! Look me in the face—
Look steadily upon me, and reply
To one brief question.
[Henry seizes Helen's arm; she looks at him and turns away in tears.
HENRY.
No!—I need not ask it.
Yet hold one moment; is the bridegroom here?
I long to wish him joy.
HELEN.
Accuse him not:
He's innocent of all.
HENRY.
O, doubtless! Still
'Twas churlish not to bid me to his bridal;
What is the happy hour?
HELEN.
Sunrise.
HENRY.
Until
That hour, farewell.
63
O leave me not in scorn!
But as you are a brave man, to the weak
Be merciful. Although no plighted faith
Is broken with you, I will not allow
A base self-flattery to conceal the truth
That I have wrong'd you—stolen delightful hours,
And cherish'd gentle vanities, with heart
Too joyous to revert to holy ties
Long woven, though unrecognised, which link'd
My destiny to Halbert's. He has shown
That, though I knew it not, my life is his,
And I have own'd his title to the hand
This ring enriches.
HENRY.
And for dreams like this
You have repell'd a soldier's love, which you,
And only you, could have secured—released him
From the sole anchor of a giddy youth,
(So you described it,) and yourself from share
Of his young fortunes, and the ample dowry
With which your uncle would have graced them!
HELEN.
Stain not
The few sad moments we may spend with thought
So little worthy. Had my lot been cast
With yours, I should have cared for no success
Save as it made you happier; sought no pleasures
But the perennial gaiety your mirth
Had shed around me;—deem'd no travel long
If shared with—Hold!—Accept my last farewell;—
May that undaunted courage which breathes in you
Inspire you to attain the airiest heights
64
Resplendent to all soldiers;—yet your frankness
Dispel all envy from it; may your feasts,
Crown'd with delights, be shared by noblest friends;
And from your towering fortunes, may the cloud
Which a slight woman's wayward folly wreathed
Around them, in soft sunshine melt at once,
And, with her, be forgotten! So Heaven speed you!
[Exit Helen.
HENRY.
Yes; it will speed me; for she loves me still!
But I forget my duty;—this despatch
Is waited for by him who shall avenge me!
[Exit Henry Macdonald.
| Glencoe | |