University of Virginia Library

ACT IV.

Scene I.

—The Temple.
Grand ceremony of dedication: the main aisle is thronged with people,—men, women, and children. The baptismal font is filled with water, and decorated with garlands. Lights are burning in the seven-branched candlesticks: a flat brazier, containing live coals, stands upon the altar. The Holy of Holies is concealed by a dark purple veil. Upon the platform, in the centre, on the right hand of the altar, stands David, in robes of white, embroidered with gold; on the left hand, Nimrod Kraft, as high-priest, in robes of violet, embroidered with silver, and a tall silver mitre upon his head; behind them ten members of the Council of Twelve, in robes of pale green, bordered with crimson: they bear symbols, representing the gifts and attributes of the Church. Four boys, standing below, in front of the altar, hold censers in their hands.
DAVID
This having heard,—commanded to receive,
By Him who speaks through me,—do you possess
As somewhat, unto them whose hearts are strong
To plant His service in devoted lives,
Permitted; not as ordered unto all.
The sword of Truth is only terrible
Against defiant wills: whoso obeys
In spirit, though his human reason fail,
Shall yet perceive in spirit, and be glad.
It is the highest faith that tramples down
Rebellious intellect: while this is blind,
That sees; and even where the softer heart
May tremble, in its delicate habit jarred
By harmonies of love that first disturb,
'Tis Faith that soothes our bosom's frightened bird,
And says, “The nestlings and the nest are safe.”
Remember this; and still exalt your souls
To light that purifies, while fancied warmth
May stream from darkness. That revealed, I give;
Not that expected, or of men preferred.
And Thou who gavest, symbol of whose truth
These living coals upon Thine altar glow,
Take, from the hands of the anointed priest,
Our first burnt-offering! As it melts in flame,
And radiance out of darkened dross is born,
So melt from us, in this Thy holy house,
All understanding, feeling, thought, and love
Not meet for Thee, till every soul, refined,
Burn in an upward glory.

NIMROD
If strange fire,
Hated of Thee, the food of heathen gods,
Come forth from what we offer, quench the flame,
Or turn it back, consuming these my hands!

[With both hands he casts something upon the coals. A clear, rose-colored flame arises, steadily increasing

---

185

in brilliancy, until all the interior of the temple is tinted by its radiance. The boys swing their censers; and the clouds of perfumed smoke are illuminated as they rise.]
CHANT
(With full organ accompaniment.)

JONAS
(Among the congregation, to Hugh.)
The most are caught. I marvel at myself,
Like one, who, entering on a company
Filled with deceitful wine, tongues thawed and hearts,
Feels an unfriendly soberness of blood,
Until their folly rights him. This alone
Were harmless luxury for stinted souls,
Save for its rootage in their homely lives.
The evil waxes strong.

HUGH
And weak, thereby,
Our chances. Note the women's faces, here!
At first I thought them troubled: now the bait,
Self-sacrifice, upon the hook of faith,
But gently frightens: they already feel
Consent approach, and shyly play with it,
To gulp more perfectly at last.

JONAS
Be still!
The priest, through all his haze of sanctity,
Fails not to watch us: meet me three days hence.

NIMROD
(Addressing the people.)
Even as He charged, sojourning in the coasts
Of Gadara, tell no man this ye saw.
Who came to us must their belief attest,
Ere they be worthy of the signs. Dull ears
Misread the revelations: clouded eyes
Behold them darkly. Wherefore, you that know,
Be as encloséd gardens to the world.
The highway is no Tabor, meet for saints;
The market-place is no Gethsemane.
Keep the exceeding nearness of the Lord,
This day, and when again in voice and flame
He visits us, like secret holiness
We share as brethren, but none else than we.
I gave you once the Prophet's parable,
Here verified: the tender roots of faith,
That feed such glorious summer-leaves of life,
Lie deep below, and wither when laid bare.
A happy bond, indeed, is speech of that
Which moves the heart; but holier, sweeter far,
The bond of silence, guarding truth revealed!

MORDECAI
(To Simeon.)
Wise words, and most devout! But wherefore now
Adds he this law, when, publishing the first,
We gather thousands?

SIMEON.
Not to any one
May I declare, even that I know his mind.
I say not that I know it: be assured,
No less, that also wisdom orders here.

DAVID
(To the people.)
Once more my mouth is opened ere ye go.
In every house the fatness of our land
Prepares your feast; the shawms and sackbuts wait,
With lighter measures, for rejoicing feet;
The day is made a glory, far and wide,
On shore and river. Issuing forth to these,
Let not your perfect exaltation sink
Even to the gladsome level of the time.
Behold in all, as out of nothing wrought,
What here the soul commanded, and the hand,
A willing slave, fulfilled! As it hath been,
So, with increasing forces, let it be;
And, from the loins of us that humbly serve,
Shall start the lineage of millennial kings!

[Sound of the organ. The Prophet, High-Priest, and members of the Twelve come forward to the front of the platform, and lift their hands, while the people gradually disperse.]

Scene II.

A room in the house of Jonas. Night. A small lamp burning upon the table; the shutters closed. Jonas, his wife Sarah, Hugh, and Hiram, a member of the Church.
SARAH
Walls hear, 'tis said; but they've no tongues to blab.
Up street and down, so far as I can see,
'Tis lonely as a graveyard: use your chance,
And well, and quickly!

JONAS
Many more are ripe
For what we may determine: all they need
Is certainty of equal power opposed;
And this, within the compass of our flock,
They see not, neither is it found: so strong,
So as with Devil's wisdom skilled to work,
Is Nimrod Kraft. But one thing hath he taught
Whereby we profit,—to keep counsel close,
Direction in a single pair of hands,
And move, when ready, backed by secret force.
Why, such a man profanes conspiracy,
So using it! His weapons, in our hands,
Scoured by the better purpose, are made sure.

HUGH
The hands are yours that shape the counter-plan;
And mine are idle till you bid them do.
Whence comes the equal power?

SARAH
If men are weak,
Then women easily may foil the law.
It were the rarest show, good faith! to see
The battle left to us; our recompense,
To own their weakness whole, which, but for us,
Would be divided.

JONAS
Nay, you haste too much.
Already half the leaven of discontent
Is kneaded up in their submissive clay;
And that which drew us, and we still accept,
Grows one with what we loathe. Thus open war
Were vainly ventured: leaving them, we lose
Possession and its chances. What remains?
The help abiding in the outer law,—
A hand still stretched, to smite where it forbids,
As this, yet spare whatever else we hold.

HUGH
Then, as I guess, you guide the Gentile law
To his confusion only? Can you stay
Its meddling there, nor open other pleas,
Which, in the end, may set us where we stood
At the beginning?

JONAS
There my secret lies.
The world is pressing on us: right and left
New colonies have passed the prairie lands,
To settle on the river-bluffs, and build
Some cabin-city they believe shall be
A centre of the world. The chief of one,
And potent in their county government,
Is kin of mine; and messages have passed.
That half the plot, and most of danger, falls
To them who work outside, not seeming leagued,
Demands advantage. What were ours to give,
After success, and what were fair to give,—
So that the leadership secures to us,—
Needs final parley: time and place are fixed.

HIRAM
As here and now declared: this day I bore
Your message and its answer. Colonel Hyde
Sees lighter work in leading on his men
Than holding back: the excitement grows apace.
Give evidence to make pretence of law
A legal movement, should the law inquire:
He asks no more.

HUGH
The revelation, say?

JONAS
Just that! With all the priest's freemasonry
To keep the usage secret, here and there
Are leaky souls: the raftsmen, as they pass
The landing; firemen, wooding up their boats;
Or peddling agents, prowling through the land,—
Catch hints of it, and bear disfigured forth.
Thus interference threatens either way;
But we avert a ruin possible,
And seat ourselves in power, to change and save,
By pointing the attack.

HUGH
And yet I've heard
How one, that, in the guns against him fired,
Had rammed blank cartridges, forgot a ball.
Your plan is perfect, if the guidance holds—

SARAH
(Interrupting him.)
What man are you, to fear the lesser risk?
The thing is coming. Standing now to us,
You lose no more, though interference fail,
And gain by any change.

JONAS
The fact of kin
In him whose hands must grapple with the priest
Is my security. Full match is he,
As you shall know. We meet, to settle all,
Beyond the river-bend, just where the bluff
Turns inland, and the little brook comes down.
'Tis thickly wooded: there the Indians made
Their final stand; and rows of bleaching ribs
Shine, like the fangs of steel-traps, from the grass.
Even border hunters, bold to hug a bear,
Avoid it after nightfall: we are safe
From even suspicion's ear, conferring there.
Will you go with me?

HUGH
Coward am I not,
Though cautious, as befits a man full-grown.
But woman's virtue caution never was:
Only the rash are brave to her. I'll go!

Scene III.

Night. A street in the city.
HUGH
(Walking slowly homewards.)
Were he alone, he might conspire alone,
And welcome! This is shrewdly done, if his;
The more, if hers. I thought her not so wise.
If interference menaces indeed,
And one might make conditions, then, why, then
Comes chance to seize o'erthrown authority,—
No matter whose,—and let it stick to me.
So much there is of wisdom in the plan:
We lose by quiet, and we can but gain
By new disturbance. Had he promised aught—
But 'tis the same! What as an offer fails,
Can I exact: which side goes up or down,
One moment both are balanced evenly,
And then a hand decides. The man's a fool
Who thinks to cheapen revolution's cost,
And feed enthusiasm upon itself,
Without the hope of benefit: go to!
I may be made a cat's-paw, but sharp-eyed
To grab one chestnut,—let me see it first!

NIMROD
(Suddenly appearing at his side.)
I'll show you! What! you meditate escape?
Stand still! I will not touch you, since you must.
How left you Jonas?

HUGH
In his usual mood;
Dissenting, yet not disobedient.

NIMROD
And yours the same? Should I repeat his words,
While every tone is in your ears alive,
You would deny them: so I waste no breath.
I would have suffered you to take the lead
To that fair quicksand-scum you think is turf,
And said, “Good riddance!”—save that you can serve;
And that you will, is truth, when I declare
You shall not serve unpaid.

HUGH
A Devil's brain
Is yours!

NIMROD
A brain that once he owned, perhaps;
Now by the Lord, to his discomfiture,
Tuned otherwise.

HUGH
(Aside.)
Why, even here, to me,
With both hands full of treachery and bribes,
He says such things! That's genius, on my soul!
[Aloud.]
The Lord directs you? well, then, also me,
If I should do your will.

NIMROD
My instrument
Is surely His, in spite of halting faith.

HUGH
What would you have me do?

NIMROD
Stay what you are,
A traitor! plot and plan our overthrow,
With him and others: only, as a spout
Collects, from every shingle on the roof,
What rain it sheds, to fill the thirsty tank,
Convey to me your knowledge, me alone!

HUGH
The Lord commands at will what He forbids,
It seems, or you interpret loosely: be it so!
I'll grant His purpose better know to you,
And let you patch the breakage in His law;
But, if the open virtue earns reward,
This claims a higher payment!

NIMROD
In your work
Will soon be shown the form of your desire,
Which, being seen, I'll make reality.
Though partly known to me, I dare not speak
The Prophet's mind, but bid you ponder this:
If you were set aside, not faithless charged,
Nor any virtue lacking, but for use,
As one unjustly to conspiracy
Compelled, by justice to be beckoned back,
And crowned by honor when the plot is crushed,
How then?

HUGH.
(Aside.)
This is a touch beyond me! Driven,
While will and purpose wholly seemed my own,
To do the thing he wanted,—can it be?
(Aloud.)
“How then?” 'Tis just another miracle.
There have been men whose tongues or hands obeyed
Some dark, mysterious force, and did the things
Their souls resisted: am I one of such?

NIMROD
It well may be: the working of the power,
Itself is mystery. Weary not your mind,
As if to your account were aught set down,
Even seeming treachery. So much we know,
Source, pretext, object, chance, and means of aid,
That, had your virtue yielded, we were safe;
But time is gained since you endure the test,
And labor lessened. Here your service lies.
First, come with me, and state the very truth,
Mindful that, if you swerve, my knowledge waits
To prop your memory. This rehearsal made,
And duty fixed in what concerns us next,
We'll talk of your exaltment and reward.

[Exeunt.

Scene IV.

Livia's house. David seated in a cushioned armchair: Livia on a low stool beside him.
DAVID
The restlessness that stirs in feet and limbs,
The dull confusions that besiege the brain,
The strange uncertainties of heart, pass off
When you are near me: overhead in blue
The sun comes out; and life is like a land
Where tempered winds kiss buds, and make then flowers.
What is your magic? Nay, it it is yourself!

LIVIA
It is that I, who follow and believe,
So spared the high anxieties of soul
In you that cleave your passage to the truth,
Am ever fresh, a little way beneath,
To stay your weariness from further fall.
The light your being brings transfuses mine
With strength and gladness ever to uphold
Myself, upholding you.

DAVID
The gift of tongues
If I bestowed, yet scarce the gift of song.
Whence come your hymns, as eloquent of faith
As Miriam sang, between the sea and Shur,—
Rejoicing strains, that suit our cheerful laws,
And shame the Gentiles' wailing psalmody?

LIVIA
'Tis consecration of a skill profane
Wherein my soul found foolish peace. I sang,
In that dark time before I saw your eyes,
Of knightly harps, and willow-wearing maids,
Of jewelled crowns, red swords, and evening stars,
And lonely tombs, and ghosts that wept and went.
One burden beat through all. Such songs betrayed
The lack of that which sweeter is than song,
Now found; but raptures of believing bliss
Seek the same passage, and the single voice,
Chanting in them, becomes the speech of all!
Stay, would you hear a ditty which yourself,
As one whose arm may brush accordant strings
Nor mark in passing, did awake in me?
A secret, else, and dumb for other ears.

DAVID
Oh, sing! Though David's craft you exercise
In being silent, yet my soul demands.

LIVIA
(Takes a guitar from a table, tunes the strings, and after a soft, subduing prelude, sings.)

DAVID
Livia! What are you? What triumphant force
Flows out from you, and knits my blood with yours?
How is it that the liquid dark of eyes
I gaze on grows a broadening sphere of light,
Enclosing me forever?—touching so
Your hand, that suddenly a warmer world
Beckons and wooes as if it might be mine?—
That in your cheek the blossom-tender flesh,
As it were spirit, sanctifies my lips?
Oh! you are beautiful.

LIVIA
Because I love!
All happiness prints beauty on the face.
I cannot keep it like a bridal-dress,
Laid in a drawer, with fragrant orris-root,
And wear my working-gowns again. I'm bold,
And proud of boldness, glad because of pride,
And love the more for gladness! Thus my heart
Beats in a ring, beginning as it ends,—
A magic circle, and you dwell therein!

DAVID
My love!

LIVIA.
You say it, and I echo back.
What more is freedom to a beaten slave,
Than this to me? Oh! I could sit, as now,
And study all the beauty of your eyes,
Where nameless color brightens here to blue,
And there turns brown, until the dusk should leave
Their sparkle only. I could part your locks,
And from my fingers shake their wandering gloss,
To seize again, and soothe with creeping thrills,
Till you should dip in slumber ere you knew.
I am as one that scarcely can believe
Past poverty is o'er, but ever spends,
To teach himself his hands are verily gold.
If you have feared, lest shame and danger wait
To blight the second marriage of your heart,
Leave me to meet them, and to tread them down.

DAVID
I fear no more; I wait no longer: come!

Scene V.

The Council-Room. David, Nimrod, Simeon, and Mordecai in secret conference.
DAVID
The danger's real: shut within our camp,
Would perfidy, in time, consume itself;
But thus, in league with outer ignorance
That easily breeds hate, it threatens harm.
Have you assured yourself how much of truth
In this alliance lies?—with how much power
It arms itself?

NIMROD
Last night my messengers
Came back from close espial of the land.
With tongues disguised to speak the Gentile mind,
They won so much as Colonel Hyde sees fit
To let his followers know; and strangely shows
Our Church's image in their looking-glass!
Hereof they speak: a faction needing help
Among us; hints of strange, unholy rites
To be suppressed; and promised evidence
(For he, considerate of future place,
First means to lift the banner of the law);
Then, last of all, his godless crew expects
Plunder and ravage! They would snatch away,
With unclean hands, the Lord's high heritage,—
They careful of the faith! The Devil laughs,
Methinks, to see such Christian volunteers
Assail our industry with hands of theft,
Our laws with sinful bodies, and our prayers
With tongues that cast defilement when they speak.

MORDECAI
Oh, sons of Belial! But the Lord shall raise
His hand to smite, as at the gates of Ai.

NIMROD
What have we done that should alarm their law?
Lo! strife and murder in this border land
It scarcely chides, is patient of free lust,
Yet makes a culprit of the sanctioned love
That broadens home. It waits for evidence.
I would not counsel rashness: let it wait,
And not receive!

DAVID
Then is their pretext vain;
For we, appealing to the selfsame source,
Possess law's shield, to hold against its sword
Wherewith they threaten. That were best of all;
But how prevent the tales, if true or false,
Which may be carried?

NIMROD
(After a pause.)
He who governs us
Once smote directly: will He do so now?
The liar once fell dead; the enemy
Was slaughtered, and no child of all his seed
Renewed the race: even mercy was reproach,
And Moses felt the anger of the Lord,
When human plea persuaded him to spare.
How much the more than what was punished thus
Doth Jonas purpose! Why delays the bolt?
Why rusts the blade in God's closed armory?
Or, waits He for our call? means He to test
What zeal and courage guard His holy place?
Then, cry aloud! As it was said of old,
They were not, for the Lord had taken them,
So in your soul command, Let him not be!

SIMEON
Ay! that were shortest passage to the end:
Let him not be!

MORDECAI
Who from the Anakim
His hosts delivered, over Arnon led,
And gave the men of Heshbon to their hands,
Will, from exceeding smallness of this prayer,
Be merry in His mind! No giants here
Oppose our path, but one malicious dwarf,
Whose pointed tongue may verily stab to hurt:
Let him not be!

DAVID
[He pauses, looks upwards with an expression of profound abstraction, and continues, as if speaking to himself.]
[Nimrod makes a sign to Simeon and Mordecai, who steal quietly out of the Council-Room.]

NIMROD
And should He answer, as my faith expects,
The prayer is justified unto your soul.
Your dread is but the birth-pang of the law
Reborn in you; and when in living flesh
It smiles, and waxes strong, you will forget
All save the glory.

DAVID
Be your words fulfilled!
The thing you counselled is already done.
What in the soul one fleeting moment stands
Is asked beyond recall: let us go hence!

[Exeunt.

Scene VI.

A narrow, wooded ravine between bluffs crowned with rock. Late twilight. Jonas and Hugh under a tree.
HUGH
(Aside, looking around him.)
A pokerish place! There's something in the air
Breeds thoughts of murder; and I'm cold with creeps
That pinched my flesh, from stepping on a spine,
Wherefrom the skull, so loosened, rolled away.
Were but the business done!
(Aloud.)
He's in no haste,
Or we too hasty: he outstays the time.
Once more reflect upon the thing you do:
Is it well done?

JONAS
I settled that at first.
There's safety in surprise: if Nimrod guessed
The range of popular impatience, then,
I grant you, were some hazard to be met.
But he is idle, seeks additional wives,
And feels as certain of the power he holds
As doth a man of money in his fist,
While at his back the robber's club is raised
To stretch him dumb.

HUGH
A strong comparison!

JONAS
It suits his case. You think I underrate
The man's intelligence; why, not a whit!
Our lucky chance is his security,
Which we must use before a breath disturb.
[A low whistle is heard.]
The Colonel's signal!
[He whistles in answer.]
Mark you, when he comes,
How perfectly he understands his work,
And sets all parts together till they fit!
That's where the lawyer tells.

COLONEL HYDE
(Approaching.)
Good even to both!
Your friend this, Cousin Jonas? Here's my hand;
And now, to business! Something must be done,
If done at all, before the week is out,—
That is, as you and I, and this your friend,
Desire to happen: something else is sure.
The excitement grows; and soon your priest, forewarned,
Will organize resistance; then comes war
To waste the property we want to save.
Have you the evidence? A document
Were best; but witnesses will answer here.

JONAS
The written revelation which he read
Was laid within the ark: that you must seize,
And bear away; resistance then will stop.
Our witness must be forced, unwillingly,
After arrest: I bring you here the names
Of them who can be driven to testify.
You understand?

COLONEL HYDE
If they the practice prove!
The revelation shows intent, no more,
And violates no law.

JONAS
To all of these
The fact is patent: where you need one case,
We give you five.

COLONEL HYDE
As fingers of a hand
That soon shall clutch them! 'Tis enough law,
Which started, many accidents may chance
Before the process finds a legal stop.
And now, conditions! You demand the power
I, its equivalent, a part secured,
A part reserved for possible future need,
So you gain influence—

JONAS
And you assure
The chance of power! Neither can promise all.

HUGH
(Aside.)
Where two so bargain, there's not margin left
To hold a third.

COLONEL HYDE
The time for huckstering's gone.

JONAS
Missing my aim, comes little; winning, all!

COLONEL HYDE
Then here's an end of parley: let us go!
This is no place for pleasure.

JONAS
So, farewell!
Your stipulations hang on my success.
[Exit Colonel Hyde.]
Come, Hugh! the night is cloudy: I must seek,
More with my feet than eyes, the ticklish path.

[He moves away.
HUGH
Go on, but slowly. I have dropped my knife,
And look for 't with my hands. Before you reach
The slippery corner where we climb the bluff,
I'll overtake you.
[Jonas disappears in the gloom.]
Shall I overtake
Indeed? I'm not so sure: yes, Colonel Hyde,
An accident, if prayed for, might occur!
They told me nothing; but the gift of guess
Remains to me; and, ugh! 'tis horrible.
I'll neither see nor know! The skull I kicked,
Used as a pillow, would not breed such dreams.
[He moves onward, cautiously.]
Ha! what was that? Along the darkened path
Something, still darker, moves! I hear no sound,
And yet the silence seems a piercing cry!
I feel the lifting of my hair: I'll stop
Both ears, shut eyes, and think of any thing,
Till I can count ten thousand, then, go on!

Scene VII.

A room in the Prophet's house.
DAVID
No, you are not the same! The simple trust
Which found content in what I was—and this
Includes whatever more I am become—
Hath left your eyes: your tongue is silenter:
You speak but matters which compel your speech,
And in your ways make hints of things unsaid.
I say not this in blame: you cannot be
More than you are, or other: I had hoped
There were a force in faith, a warmth in love,
To hold your nature side by side with mine,
And take a larger property in me
Through that which only seems to lessen it.
My hope is vain.

RHODA
Oh! wait a little while,
My husband,—as you still and ever are.
I vexed you sore in what I thought was good,
And that seems evil which you ask of me:
It was not so at first. I lean on you
With all my weight; when you would rest, in turn,
I've nothing but my simple, loving heart,
To stay your weariness. I cannot urge
Your spirit forward on its loftier ways;
Nor did you ask it, save my faith be aid,
When first we loved. Take what another brings:
You will not find me selfish: take so much,
But keep your heart for me.

DAVID
Why, it is yours,
No less than then! A very ghost of change
Is what you fancy. Shut your eyes, and call
My face into your memory: 'tis the same.

RHODA
Ah, David, David! I would shut their sight
Forever, could you in my ears again
So live. There's something in a woman's heart,
I think, so delicate, so soft a force,
That it will cling like steel, nor feel a bruise;
Yet, loose one fibre, it may bleed to death.

DAVID
I have not loosed, nor will! Nay, I have grieved,
Bent down to human sympathy with you,
And hoarded tenderness you have not claimed,
To soothe you till you see. What can I more?
Take back the revelation and the law?
Reverse the advancing work, and, step by step,
Make all things as they were? I see your eyes
Lighten at this, as they had nigh forgot
To shine: I do believe you wish so much!

RHODA
(Slowly.)
No, no! Not if your happiness depends,—
Not less of power,—not all the work undone—
Oh, understand me, David!

DAVID
Patience, first!
Suspend your feeling till around us springs
The newer life, then judge if it be false.
But if, indeed, arises primitive peace,
And all that in the patriarchal years
Made manhood pure, and womanhood content,
Then I, by others, not of mine own faith,
Am justified to you.

SARAH
(Entering.)
Where have you put
Jonas, my husband? Give him back to me,
Or I will raise a tumult in the land!

DAVID
Your husband?

SARAH
Ay, and I'm his only wife.
You have him hidden: set him free, I say!

DAVID
Wild words are these. I know no more of him
Than those report who hear his discontent.
He hath not sought me; nor should I receive,
Unless he came with penitence.

SARAH
You know,—
I'll not believe you! Since he held to me,
Nor with strange women would pollute my house,
You mean his ruin! Help me, Prophet's wife!
Although, perverted by his tongue, you take
Your rival home—
[Rhoda starts, and turns away her face.]
—yet you are woman still,
And my distress may somewhat touch your heart.
Find out what they have done with him, give back,
And we will go!

[She weeps.
DAVID
(Aside)
It is no acted fear:
Has he been taken? Is the answer come
To what I prayed,—come swiftly back to me
With all its helpless woe of consequence,
To make the wish a terror?

RHODA
In my heart
I feel your grief, and pity, and will help,
Can you but show the way.

DAVID
But I declare
Mine ignorance! I speak no further word
Since you believe not.

SARAH
Nay, I will believe!
His fear was less of you than Nimrod Kraft,
Whose tongue—but that might anger if I spake:
I know not what to do!

DAVID
Why, go to him
Whom most you fear! But, stay! no evidence
Of evil in your frightened clamor lies.
Come with me, and confess the things you know.

[Exit with her.
RHODA
(Solus.)
Already? My prophetic heart declared,
Then called itself a liar! Not dare tell?
Such cowardice conceals a little love!
The winter sun, that for a distant land
Makes summer, cannot turn all warmth away,
And slowly comes again: let me not be
A frozen field, but gather every beam
He may allow me! Oh! I'll prove my right
By life or death; but now, on this alone,
I dare not brood. That woman, wild with fear,
And charged with reason for it, which alarms
Because unspoken—something lurks behind,
A further outrage to be sanctified,
A guilt thrust under David's innocence!
The thought confuses me: I only feel
The danger closing round us like a mist,
Cold, formless, chilling to the very bone;
And he is helpless, save I love him still.