University of Virginia Library

SCENE III.

—A Landscape and House.
Enter Gideon Bodish.
Gideon.
Why spake I harshly to the fair Susanna!
Ah, little knows she what power it tasks,
To quell within this troubled heart, the love
I bear to her!—to silence every tone
This tongue would pour in music to her ear,—
How often I walk beneath her window,
And look up,—how often linger, afar,
Gazing till sight grows dim while passes she,
And hover on her path as though her steps
Embellished more than Nature's cunning hand
The very ground she treads on! But all by stealth,
Lest should the light of day behold my love—
Trouble would learn to take a surer aim
And deadlier strike the fortress of my peace!
Susanna! look not thou so beautiful
In fatal fairness—I will not seek you more.
[Looking off.]
Her lover, Jarvis, comes from toward her home!
Pray God! he hath succeeded in his suit!
Enter Jarvis Dane, R. M.
The love I cherish for this fair-eyed girl
Shall not prove another chain to bind me—
Hence! from my heart least thou undo me!
I will yield all I can, to him who seeks
Her hand, in safety. Welcome, Jarvis!

Jarvis.
Welcome is for the welcome—
You mock me with the smile you put on, saying,
Welcome, welcomeless.

Gideon.
If ever the sight
Of woods to hunters' eyes, of quiet bays
To sea-tossed men, had pleasure in it,
You are most welcome! Your coming tells me
She is changed. Jarvis, you have her heart,
Come, say it swiftly.

Jarvis.
More mockery, for you it seems may do,
For your appointed hour, with man or woman,
What you will. Why do you linger near her home?

Gideon.
[To himself.]
Oh, agony!
I love her not, nor seek to have her love.

Jarvis.
Then give it unto me.

Gideon.
I do, as freely
As my hand doth waive.

Jarvis.
You do? I thought so.
Master Gideon!—you give and take, diminish
And increase, beyond our mortal means.

Gideon.
I will not give it, for I cannot.

Jarvis.
You can, and in a trice, make hate
Or love, flow up or down, backwards or on,
As you see fit.

Gideon.
I have not, seek not, ask not,
Nor desire, nor will possess her love; she
Gives it against my wish—you know she does.

Jarvis.
There is a power
Within this house that overawes you both,
And governs your spirits to its cursed ends.

Gideon.
I fear there is. Hush Jarvis!
[Ambla's voice is indistinctly heard.
Hear you not sounds of agonizing prayer,
Supplications desperate and full of sighs?
It is an hour when wrestlings seize her.

Jarvis.
More bedevilment.

Gideon.
No, Jarvis, no—not that!
Have pity (you who 're witness to it) on
A poor woman's hour of meditative pain,
Upon her pangs that have not more than mortal
Origin!

Jarvis.
Gideon, I hear the sounds you hear,
They are incantations and requests
Of further power, to snare the innocent soul
Of a fair girl!—Speak not!—All denial 's vain!—
You palter with me, and possess me,
Of a fable, as though I were a wondering boy.

Gideon.
[Aside.]
Oh, just and righteous heaven! shall I forbear,
When I could smite down this misinterpreter,
And beat into the air the wicked spirit
That from his lips pollutes it! But, should
My bright blade cleave him in its first flash
(As by my holy hand it would,) there 's more
Of this accursed and most o'erwhelming craft
Of witchery, fixed on our house—no, no,
I am not born to strike but to endure;
It is a fable as you say, a false creation.

Jarvis.
You do confess it?

Gideon.
How dare you, sir, upbraid me thus?
Misread my words, and with malignant looks,
Talk me and mine, backward to perdition?
What though she loved me once, and loves me, now,
Who may have loved her, and would still, if that I choose,
Who gave you right to beard me, and to fling
Into my face, your desperate suspicions!
Me, sir, who have my youth yet, my youth's arm
Unwasted. Stand to your guard!

Jarvis.
Stand you to yours!—Nor pause till death decides.
You are my wronger, in each feature bear
Some scornful memory this true steel should thence
Obliterate—and leave me once more free!
I have not reaped the woods for nothing,
Nor climbed the steepy slope, and dashed the bear,
Alone, his gloomy fierceness there engaging—
When you have lingered calmly at the foot,
In visionary gaze at birds, or clouds,
Or idle flowers—to now stand back!

Gideon.
Visions indeed! The vision of the weapon
Of an injured man, athwart your sight—
Should blast your eyeballs, more than death!
[They fight—Gideon prevails.
I spare your life—although your black blood should
Be spilled, to the last drop! The flashing
Of your eyes against your sword, and this
Unnatural upbraiding, betrays
A guilty purpose in your mind. I think,
'T is you who set this hunt a-foot, who keep
The dogs of Salem on the scent—your life
Is spared—hold sacred, for this sake, the lives
Of others!

Jarvis.
Gideon, you still prevail, but, by the holiness
Of Salem, if still your dark beguilings
Leave it so, I'll yet count back into your hand—
Yes, one by one, these injuries—the hour 's
Not far away!

Gideon.
When comes that hour, brave Jarvis,—
By God's good help, you'll find me, then I trust,
No less a man than now!

Jarvis.
The hour will come—be sure of that!

[Exeunt Gideon and Jarvis, R. and L.