 | The Lost Son |  |
Scene V.
—The Garden. Bernard, Cuthbert, and Druid.Bern.
One friend that 's true to me . . . poor dog! dear dog!
Cuth.
You can't stay here; no, not a moment longer!
It was a shame to come. What, did you think
That you could show yourself?
Bern.
You mean, of course,
I shall be hanged if I am found here?
Cuth.
Oh,
I don't say that, sir; no, I don't say that,—
Things may be known that can't be proved by law;
And I don't say there 's one here would betray you;
But you would have such shame as kills some men,
And you would kill your father. He is sick.
I have seen it ofttimes when I 've stopped my work
271
I cannot talk with you! I can't, I can't!
Away with you; say nothing to old Gilbert.
He 'd talk and hinder you.
Bern.
I shall not go
Till I have seen my mother's grave. Where is it?
Cuth.
What, have you heart and front enough for that?
Oh, were I you, I 'd pray the earth to open
And swallow me, before I would stand there.
Poor lady! As she lies there in the dark,
Could she but know who 's talking of her, why
Her heart would break again beneath the sod.
Bern.
My mother!
Cuth.
Ay, it killed her.
Bern.
Where is her grave?
Cuth.
She lies in the churchyard—she loved the flowers
And birds so, she would say she ne'er could rest
In the cold vault, and so Sir Hugh bade lay her
Under the elm, that we call the ghost's tree;
And Mistress Annabella and your sister
They have set primroses and violets
And snowdrops, and such common things as those,
Above her.
Bern.
You will never see me more;
So I might tell you, but that it would be useless . . .
No, best forget me quite.
[Exit.
Cuth.
And I must watch him—
Ay, and that dog too, for the poor blind brute
Would let all out. I 'm a worse brute than he;
But there 's no help for it, none. Tough as I am,
272
O Lord, that I might lie, my day's work done,
Under the daisies too! By this time sure
He has reached the churchyard wicket: I must follow.
[Exit.
| The Lost Son | |