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Chapter XIX.
Dramatic chapters, poems and songs |  |
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Chapter XIX.
Scene—Interior of Kelford Castle; Clown listening at the library-door.CLOWN.
I'm sure I heard strange noises from this room,
Or from the room beyond . . . .
But always are there noises in this place,
As Jeannette says, noises and startling cries,
And doors that sing and whistle on the hinge.
Yet there was something more than these just now:
Voices in passion! . . . [Listens again.]
There's mischief brewing in this hated castle.
Would I were out! I'm always in some scrape!
The ferrips take my legs for bringing me,
And take my mistress, too, for sending me;
'Tis always, Clown, do this! or, Clown, fetch that!
Fresh orders thick as hail!—as though a Clown
Had not a soul, not even to his foot!
“Go, follow Falkner,” says my lady, “Clown;”
And here I am!
[Enter Jeannette from side-door.]
Or from the room beyond . . . .
But always are there noises in this place,
As Jeannette says, noises and startling cries,
And doors that sing and whistle on the hinge.
Yet there was something more than these just now:
Voices in passion! . . . [Listens again.]
There's mischief brewing in this hated castle.
Would I were out! I'm always in some scrape!
The ferrips take my legs for bringing me,
And take my mistress, too, for sending me;
'Tis always, Clown, do this! or, Clown, fetch that!
Fresh orders thick as hail!—as though a Clown
Had not a soul, not even to his foot!
“Go, follow Falkner,” says my lady, “Clown;”
And here I am!
And what's to come of it?
[Listens again.]
Could I see Jeannette now! . . .
Could I see Jeannette now! . . .
[Jeannette slaps him on the back.]
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What seek you here? Listening at people's doors—
Fine conduct, sir; sneaking in lobbies thus,
And eaves-dropping . . .
CLOWN.
Not at doors; eaves-dropping is at windows!
JEANNETTE.
Never tell me, sir; I'm ashamed of you!
CLOWN.
Ashamed of me! 'Twas but the other day
That you were proud of me.
JEANNETTE.
What! when you saved the drowning man? ay, that
Was noble of you; this is mean.
CLOWN.
One can't find drowning people every day,
And dive and save them. Now, wouldst thou jump in,
I'd dive a mile or I would fetch thee out!
JEANNETTE.
Have done with you! A pretty fetching out!
Thou'd save a pudding sooner than Jeannette.
CLOWN.
Why thou'rt my pudding, dumpling, round and sweet,
Full of all fruits, like to a Bakewell one!
Thy lips are cherries; peaches are thy cheeks;
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A white one, large and finely prominent;
Thy teeth like nuts just blanched, and fragrant white;
Honey of rose and raspberry they breath;
Thine ears are figs! . . .
JEANNETTE.
Figs! that for your figs! [Boxes him.]
I'll teach you, sir, to say my ears are figs!
These ears your betters have admired, and oft.
Figs! figs, indeed! A murrain take your figs!
[Vapouring about.]
CLOWN.
I'm always in a scrape!
Gave any one to me a purse of gold,
'Twould lead me in some scrape before an hour:
What makes another's fortune ruins mine. [Footsteps approaching.]
Here's some one coming; scrape on scrape 'twill be.
Now, Jeannette, then, I meant it all in jest!
Like figs! Like water-lilies, small and thin,
And silver fair and graceful, are thine ears!
Thou know'st I love thee! Meant thee no offence!
There's some one near, and I must not be seen.
[Jeannette opens the door half sulkily.]
JEANNETTE.
Figs, indeed! [Holding the door open, and boxing Clown as he passes her.]
That I should live to have my ears called figs!
[Exit after him.]
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Enter Midgley and Adolphus at the steps of the gateway.
MIDGLEY.
Thy mother was a pure, unspotted wife,
Thyself the heir of Kelford! May'st thou prove
Worthier than he who now inherits it!
I've proofs substantial. [Midgley turns and sees the corpse.]
Merciful Heaven! What's that? a corpse?
Great God, that still eternal justice holds:
Thy hand is here!
Thyself the heir of Kelford! May'st thou prove
Worthier than he who now inherits it!
I've proofs substantial. [Midgley turns and sees the corpse.]
Merciful Heaven! What's that? a corpse?
Great God, that still eternal justice holds:
Thy hand is here!
Boy, bend thy knee:
Behold thy mother's grave! Pray for the soul
Of him who was thy father; for here he lies—
If there be truth in sight—a murdered man!
Behold thy mother's grave! Pray for the soul
Of him who was thy father; for here he lies—
If there be truth in sight—a murdered man!
ADOLPHUS.
Murdered!
Oh, I saw nothing but my mother's grave!
What monster hath done this? And yet, take heart,
He may have only fainted. . . .
Oh, I saw nothing but my mother's grave!
What monster hath done this? And yet, take heart,
He may have only fainted. . . .
Dead, dead! quite dead!
Oh, what a wretch am I to find thee dead!
I prayed to see my mother's grave, and 'twas decreed
That when I saw it I should see thee dead!
My prayers have murdered thee, my dead-found father!
Oh, what a wretch am I to find thee dead!
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That when I saw it I should see thee dead!
My prayers have murdered thee, my dead-found father!
MIDGLEY.
Canst thou love him whose falsehood killed thy mother?
ADOLPHUS.
He is dead! All here have need of mercy,
Of pardon, of forgiveness. He is dead,
And will offend no more!
[Midgley examining the foot of the grave.]
MIDGLEY.
Oh! what is this? a knife! and Falkner on it!
[As she comes forward with the knife, enter hastily Retainers and Followers of Lord Kelford, with Officers of Justice.]
OFFICER.
Seize that hag! Take heed the lad escape not!
A horrid deed, and dreadfully they'll answer it.
[As they are about to seize Adolphus, he draws himself up proudly and firmly.]
ADOLPHUS.
Touch me not here! upon my mother's grave.
I will not move a limb but as you choose,
So you keep back your hands one moment, sirs.
[He bends sorrowfully over the grave, kneels, and kisses it.]
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This is the second murder found since noon!
For 'tis more probable that poor young girl
Found some base hand to plunge her in the wave,
Than of her own accord she had found out
A stream so black, so foul, and desolate;
A place where sun did never penetrate
Since yon grey forest its first childhood knew!
There is an awful grandeur in the spot
Which had rebuked away a suicide.
Poor soul! how beautiful she looked! I wept,
She was so like a sister I had lost.
I wept, went out, and sorrowed like a child!
Well, 'tis not oft my heart thus shames my face;
Yet she had parents—brothers too, perchance—
Poor souls! poor souls! it is a trying world.
FOLLOWER.
Was there no clue, then, to her parentage?
OFFICER.
Nothing; nor letter, token, ring; save one
Mysterious paper, in her bosom placed,
Written thereon, “A bridal gift to Bertha.”
ADOLPHUS.
Now where ye will, I am in Heaven's hands!
MIDGLEY.
Did I not tell thee, boy, the hag was poor?
If poverty's not guilt, why looks it so?
Ha! gyves for the hag; bind hard, good Christian men,
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OFFICER.
Relieve her hands.
MIDGLEY.
What! twice in a day? The world grows tender, sure!
[The followers bear off the corpse; Adolphus follows erect, yet mournfully.]
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Chapter XIX.
Dramatic chapters, poems and songs | |