University of Virginia Library

SCENE II.

The entrance of a thick wood near the dwelling of Norman Maurice. Sunset. Robert Warren discovered.
Warren.
The sun is at its set, and yet she comes not.
Can she have faltered—what doth she suspect,—
What fear! It sinks, and hark—her footstep.
Now comes our triumph—now!

[Retires into the wood.
Enter Clarice.
Clarice.
Oh, if I err,
I that am feeble, and though feeble, loving,—
Devoted, where the sacrifice is needful,—
Willing to die for him whose dear devotion,
Hath made it my religion still to love him—
Oh, God have mercy on the hapless error,
That grows from love's necessities alone!
If in my death his triumph may be certain,
My breast is ready for the knife. I need
No prayer, no prompting to the sacrifice,
That saves him from the wreck of all his hopes,
And honor with them. Let me now not falter!
Forgive me, Heaven, in pity to the weakness
That knows not how to 'scape. If it be crime,—
The deed, which I have brooded o'er, until
My shuddering fancy almost deems it done—
By which I do avoid the loathlier crime;
Let not the guilt lie heavy on my soul,
As solemnly I do profess myself,
Most free from evil purpose, and most hating
That which meseems the dread necessity
That shadows all my fortune! God have pity,
And show the way, that still unseen before me,
Lies open for my rescue! Ha, 'tis he!

Warren,
[reënters.]
Methinks, Clarice, you come reluctantly.
Your husband's fate—the dangers that await him,
That do appear so terrible to me,
Would seem to touch you not.

Clarice.
I'll not believe it!
I tell you I must see these fatal papers—
Must feel them—spell and weigh each syllable,
Ere I believe you!

Warren.
Said I not you should?

Clarice.
Show me them. I'm here.

Warren.
Come hither, then.

Clarice.
What! in the deeper darkness of the wood?
No! Here!

Warren.
What! dost forget my recompense?
Wouldst thou the naked heaven behold our pleasures?

Clarice.
Oh, Heaven! sustain me! Let me not go mad;
That I may hear unmoved this foul assailant,
Nor show, to baffling of my hope and purpose,
The loathing that I feel!

[Aside.
Warren.
The proof is ready—
Wherefore dost thou linger?

Clarice,
[eagerly.]
Ha! then thou hast it—
Here, in thy bosom—here, in yonder wood.

Warren.
Even as thou sayest—here, within my bosom;
But 'tis in yonder wood that thou shalt see it.
Behold!

[Takes the papers from his bosom and waves her to the wood.
Clarice.
Give me to see them.

Warren.
Yes!

Clarice.
But here!

Warren.
No—there!

[Waving papers and retiring.
Clarice.
Show me! I come!

[Following.
Warren.
Yet farther. Follow me!
By yon red oak, where the dark thicket spreads,
Where silence, and her twin, security,
Brood ever, and declare for loving hearts
Their meet protection in this lonely shade.—
Thither, Clarice!

[Retires from sight, beckoning with the papers.
Clarice.
Thither, then; I follow thee!
Thou dost implore thy fate! I follow thee
Where shadow and silence both invoke with speech,
Too potent for my feeble prayer and plaint,
A shadow and a silence yet more deep!
They awfully declare a hideous worship
Where Horror sits supreme, and summons me
To make befitting sacrifice. My soul,
Be firm of purpose now. Nerves, do not falter,
When that I do demand your resolute office.
I dare not call on Heaven to help my weakness,
But from the indulgent mercy, born of Heaven,
Implore the saving grace I may not merit.

Warren,
[within.]
Clarice!

Clarice.
Ha, then, I come to thee.
Fool! thou entreat'st a Fury to thy arms,
And not a woman. Thou wouldst have my love—
Partake of my embrace—my kiss—thou shalt!
My husband—'tis for thee!

Warren,
[within.]
Clarice!

Clarice.
He calls me!
I do but answer to his summons! Ha!
Another voice is sounding in mine ears,—
And many voices! One of them is Norman's,—
He calls!—he, too, implores me to the wood!
There will he meet with Warren. If he meets him,
I know what then must happen. I must thither.
His voice again. It sinks into a murmur—
Mix'd murmurs follow of a crowd! What is it,
That rolls so dully in my brain, and makes me
Uncertain of my footstep? Oh! the horror
Of this strange weakness! Ha!

Warren,
[within the wood.]
Clarice!

Clarice.
He calls!
Thrice! Thrice! It is decreed. I come—I come!

[Exit within: a moment after a cry of agony, and then a sound as of a falling body. Reënter Clarice with papers in her hand, and garments all bloody.
Clarice.
Ha, ha, I have them! I could laugh! Ha! ha!—
But for this horrible silence. Yet, I have them!
He would have kept them from me—he. Ha, ha!
But would I suffer him when he threaten'd Norman,
My husband, with dishonor—my brave husband,
That even now is rising in the nation,
Among the great, in the high places of power,
Rank'd with the men most eminent. Dear Norman!
Ha!—ha! I'm very happy now. I have the papers,
The proof, and Norman is made Senator,
Spite of this wretched liar! He'll lie no more.
He wish'd for my embrace, and sure he had it!
Such close embrace, so sharp, so sudden, sweet,
It made him shriek and shrink with such a pleasure,
As men endure not twice.
[Groan within.
God! what is that!
A footstep! He pursues me for the papers.
[Thrusts them into her bosom.
He shall not have them. No—I have no papers.
He comes! Home—Norman—Home! Home! Home! my Norman!

[Exit wildly, looking behind her as she departs.