University of Virginia Library

SCENE IV.

—The Old Guard Room.
Colonel Wyndebanke is led in by Serjeant Maye and Soldiers, U. R.
Serj.
This chamber, sir, you'll occupy until—

Wyn.
To-morrow, only. What is now the hour?

Serj.
Eight has just struck.

Wyn.
By that, then, but twelve hours
Are all I have to live.

Serj.
Your lady, sir—
(Who yesterday in vain sued for the favour)—
Now waits admittance; by Prince Rupert's order:
The trial over, now 'twill be permitted.

(Exit with Soldiers, L. H.
Wyn.
Poor Edith, thou hast placed me here. To die
To-morrow. Oh, how gladly would I yield
To that same death, were ignominious stain,
As undeserved as base, cleans'd from my name.
'Tis hard to die suspected; but to die
With all th' apparent evidence of guilt,
And scarce a hope that rectifying time
May tell the world it err'd—'tis terrible!
George Fenwicke, what a villain thou hast prov'd—
No matter—

Enter Edith, L. H. who runs to Wyndebanke.
Edith.
Edward!

Wyn.
(Gently displacing her.)
No, this must not be,
Till you resolve me of a cruel doubt
Which shames me in the utterance. Oh, Edith,
Have you been party to that treachery
By which my life, but what is more, my honour
Is sacrific'd?

Edith.
(Sobbing.)
Oh, Edward!

Wyn.
Still I ask
Were you an agent in your brother's scheme?

Edith.
(Eagerly.)
Did he betray you, then?

Wyn.
Oh, answer me!
Were you a plotter with him 'gainst your husband?

Edith.
No! no! ah, could you think it?

(Falls in his arms.)
Wyn.
'Tis enough!
Then my poor wife, of nothing but affection
Will I accuse you: 'gainst untoward fate
We are unarm'd by prescience. Look up!
I was a brute unworthy of thy love,
To offer such an insult as suspicion.
Forgive me, Edith—speak! alas, the time
For our communion is but brief—then speak!

Edith.
(Glancing round.)
Edward, to this I've brought you—'tis my deed.
Oh, do not speak so kindly—I did this!

Wyn.
Nay, nay! but were it even so—'tis now
Your office to make ample reparation.

Edith.
O tell me how—for mercy's sake, oh, tell me,
How can I make atonement?

Wyn.
Edith, thus:
Enable me to die with fortitude,
Such as becomes a soldier.

Edith.
(Aghast.)
Die! to die?

Wyn.
To-morrow; so my judges have decreed:
And may the firmness of my parting moment
Wipe from my character the foul aspersion
Cast on it by my harsh accusers. Edith,
No one but you can shake my firmness!

Edith.
Merciful heaven, die! You must be saved.
You shall not die—no, no—why say it?
They do not know the crime was mine. Oh, Edward!

(Embraces him.
Enter Wilton, armed, L. H. followed by Serj. Maye.
Wil.
(To Maye.)
Who was it granted this? The interview
Was meant to be permitted but an hour
Before the execution—who has pass'd her?

Maye.
Sir, 'twas the Prince's word—

Wil.
'Tis false, I say!
Retire, and wait my call without.
(Exit Serj. L. H.
Well, Colonel Wyndebanke, your late espousal
Of this most dainty type of fair perfection,
Has stimulated you to noble deeds.
Oft have I heard contemners of the passion,
Prate of the soft'ning influence of love:
Then soldiers should abjure it, since it seems
It melts the spirit e'en to cowardice.

Wyn.
Edith, look there upon that fiend who taunts me!
Once the presumptuous wretch—(the saints forgive him)—
Aspired to the possession of your hand.
Your choice and still 'tis bliss to say it—fell
Upon myself. Do you repent that choice,
Though sorrow is the sequence—though you hear,
The name of coward hurl'd in malice at me?
I would die fair in the esteem of all
But chiefly you my bride; then tell me, Edith,
Which is the coward—he, whose heart is mov'd
To act as I did—from humanity—
Or he, who like that grov'ling villain there,
By lies and stratagem subdues a rival,
And then, ere death can snatch him from his malice,
Comes swagg'ring to his unarmed, helpless victim,
And like a slave insults his misery
By coarse reviling—say, which is the coward?

Wil.
What should I do for the great wrong I've suffer'd?
Come with magnanimous condolement, or
Sue for you to authority for pardon?

Edith.
(Falling at his feet.)
Oh, save him—save him Wilton! you can do it.
Be generous, and deepest gratitude—

Wyn.
(Raising her.
Rise Edith, 'ere I curse you! Kneel to him!
Debase yourself and me—defy him rather—
He has no power but what grows from guilt.
(Edith again attempts to kneel.
Woman, dost hear me? is it not enough
To bear the charge of shame—would you bring more
By disobeying my command—kneel not!

Edith.
(Rising.)
I will not. Ah, you do reproach me, then—
I brought that shame upon you.

Wil.
(With exultation.)
Still I have lived to see it: see her here—
Here at my feet—she who once spurn'd my suit!
Aye, you may take her hence, but still her heart
Is kneeling here before me—still she begs
In abject humbleness of me, your life;
And thus I answer her. I lov'd you once
With more sincerity than you might credit;
But pitiless, you cast me off, for him
Now waiting death. I then became a fiend
I own it—glory in it—were your husband
Now—(as he soon will be)—bound, blindfolded,
The carbines pois'd, and I, by finger-raising,
Could turn his doom aside, I would not do it,
But wait expectant for the joyous moment
To see his crimson'd corse roll prostrate.

Edith.
Monster!
He shall not die—I'll hasten to the king,
Fall at his feet, and never quit his presence
Till I have wrench'd from him a pardon.

Wil.
Why that you'll scarcely do. His majesty
One hour since set forth for Burford

Edith.
Alas! No, I will not despair—to Burford!
I'll follow there. Ah, Edward, let me hence
To Burford. I will save you, husband, yet
Or perish, too, myself. To Burford, on!
I must not waste one moment—on to Burford!

(Rushes out, L. H.
Wil.
(Pointing after her.
A noble-minded lady! it is hard
To leave such charms for ever. Think you now,
That she can save you?

Wyn.
Leave me!

Wil.
Long before
She can return you'll be—

Wyn.
Fiend! leave me! (Wilton smiles and exit L. H. Colonel Wyndebanke sinks on seat and buries his head in his hands.)