University of Virginia Library

SCENE IV.

The Interior of Gennet's Cave. Norton discovered at the entrance sword in hand, and couched as if ready to spring upon some one. Fanny Ashton near him.
FANNY.
Norton, what watch you for?

NORTON.
A wild boar—hush!
(aside)
This mad fool will betray me, if I am not
Betrayed already by yon clown—He moves!
He turns away—returns—Damnation!—stay—

FANNY ASHTON.
This is the Fairy's cave. Hast seen her, Norton?
But she ne'er shows herself, except to eyes
That soon must close in death. Would I might see her!
It were so sweet to die, and dream no more.
Dost thou dream, Norton?

NORTON.
Peace I say.

FANNY.
I will;
Because thou art so surly—not like him.
He said I was a fairy; said my eyes,
With every sparkle, wove a spell around him,
That made me lovelier—dearer! Norton, this
Shall never more be styled the cave of Gennet.
'Tis mine! Here will I dwell; and when my brain
Burns, I will bathe it in yon gentle Fall
Whose waters light my cavern. Then at morn,
I'll sprinkle me with dew-drops from the rose;
And when the Moon looks o'er the fell, I'll mount
Her beams, and seek my love!
[Lightning.
[She throws her arms around Norton,—exclaiming
Save, save me, Norton!
That came for me!—I felt it suck my soul!—
But now I breathe again.—Yet hold me fast!

[Faints,
NORTON.
She spurned me, and for him. I little cared
For her sake: yet it galled me to reflect
That e'en in low amours he baffled me.

FANNY
(reviving).
Dearest! confess it now. Thou hast deceived
The trusting Fanny, Henry! and I must
Avail me of thy dagger. Hast forgot
How when we sat beneath yon mountain-ash,
When I was well, and never plagued with dreams,—
You showed it me, and told me that if ever
I found thee false, I was to stab thee with it?
Now give it me. Dost think I'd kill thee, love?
But I will see thy heart, and look on her
That takes my place thereon!—and I will stab her,
For there is triumph in her smile.—Take that!

[Thrusts as with a dagger.
NORTON.
I am not he you mean.

FANNY.
Not Henry? No—
Thou art not. Then, how dreamt I he was here?

NORTON.
He may be here anon. Just now he stood
With his new love beside the waterfall.
And if thou wouldst do what he bade thee, Fanny,
My dagger's at thy service.

FANNY
(eagerly).
Give it me!
[He gives it to her.
Now will I couch like thee; and when he comes,
Will spring upon him—thus.

[Places herself beside him.
NORTON
(aside).
The proverb says
Drowning men catch at straws. But now for me
Aught to expect from this girl's brain-sick whim,—
Why, 'twere to clutch a thread of gossamer
Waved by the summer wind from hawthorn bush
Across a headlong stream that bears me down!
Yet let him stand the risk. If fails her dagger,
My sword may follow with a surer blow!

[Henry, without, gives the signal whistle.
NORTON
(to FANNY).
Speak not! He thinks to find some comrades here—
[Enter Henry.
Now—quickly! spring!

[To Fanny.
[As he enters, Fanny springs forward, then pauses, and, shrieking, throws away the dagger. Norton aims a mortal blow at him, which Fanny Ashton—rushing between them—receives in her breast, and instantly falls.
HENRY
(drawing).
O damnèd villain! thou hast spilt a life
I would have given my best domain to save!
Miscreant! I might have pardoned thee again,
But for this deed. But this weighs down thy soul
To hot perdition!

NORTON.
Pardon! I despise
Thy mercy, as thy vengeance. Strike—

[They fight. Norton falls.
HENRY.
Thou hast it
At last, perfidious wretch!

NORTON.
My curse be on thee!
May woes, like vipers, writhe around thy heart,
Gnaw—gnawing it through life; and may your death
Be speedy—and as bloody—as my own!

[Dies.
HENRY
(kneeling and raising FANNY).
Live, Fanny, live!—Thou hast been deeply injured;
But live! and there is nothing thou canst ask
But I will gladly grant thee—

FANNY.
'Tis in vain!—
Dear Henry! I have been so ill, so fevered,
I thought my brain would turn; but I am now
Myself again. I feel me dying, Henry!
I have no wrongs to urge. I was in fault
To dream that one like you could ever stoop
To union with a peasant. But my parents—
Dear Henry, think of them. For my sake, be
To them what Fanny Ashton should have been,
Their stay in age. And O!—I would not have
A thought of me to mar thy happiness;
Yet if thou canst, some pensive moment, think
Of me without a sorrow,—then, my love!
Recall me to thy mind. Remember me—
Not as th'unkind upbraider of a wrong—
But as a meek, erring girl, who loved too well
Where love was hopeless; yet whose death was sweet,
Thus dying in thine arms, and knowing thou
Wilt close my eyes, whose image—ever dear—
Is dearest at this moment, and shall be
Their last impression ere they fix for ever!
I can no more—my Henry—O farewell!

[Dies.