 | The Lost Son |  |
Scene III.
—The Sea-cove below the Grounds of the Manor Hall. Ulric and Olive seated on the Rocks.Ol.
I can't think why you are so rude to him.
I felt my cheeks on fire to see you so
Turn your back on him! And my lord the while
So gracious and so gentle.
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What of that?
I do not like him.
Ol.
Not like Lord de Warenne!
That 's a discovery! What has he done?
Ul.
Done? Nothing. It has grown upon me—somehow.
Well, there 's one thing that I have noted, too,
Which has escaped your eyes—where were they then?
Have you ne'er thought that he loves Annabella?
Ol.
Ulric!—well, yes, of course he loves her—who
Amongst us does not? Love her! As a lover,
Do you mean that?
Ul.
Just that. A hundred times
I 've seen him follow her with eyes intense
As Gilbert's kestrels when they watch and watch—
Not knowing or not heeding that I saw him.
He thinks me but a foolish boy, you know,
But I have guessed his secret.
Ol.
Can it be?
I do believe you are right. This evening—oh,
How lost, how strange he was, until she came!
He scarcely seemed to understand or hear me,
Broke off abruptly, asking where she was?
And when she came, he looked—
Ul.
Oh, I could kill him!
Ol.
And this is why you hate him?
Ul.
Hate him! Who
Said that I hate him? But what right has he
To think of Annabella?
Ol.
She 'll not take him.
She is too proud to marry, be you sure.
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What, not for a coronet?
Ol.
A coronet?
She 's a king's daughter, if we did but know.
Oh, Ulric, I believe she came to us
Just as some rare bird lights upon our isle,
A moment flashing all its wondrous plumes
Amongst our woodlands—then away, away,
Across strange oceans and to unknown shores,
Never more to return to this. How oft
I dream this, and I wander up and down
Through forlorn lovely landscapes of enchantment,
And look for her in vain.
Ul.
If she flew from us
I'd follow her to the uttermost parts of earth,
Like one of Arthur's errant knights of old,
And never cease till I had won my quest.
Ol.
Yes, yes, he loves her. That was why he looked
So white and awful, when I said one thing—
Ul.
What, Olive, what?
Ol.
I am ashamed to tell it.
Ul.
But tell me.
Ol.
Well, I spoke about our brothers.
Ul.
Of them? you spoke of them?
Ol.
Why should I not?
I asked if haply . . . they could both have loved her?
Ul.
How strange you thought of that! What did he say?
Ol.
Oh, scarcely anything. It was his look—
I felt that I had said a strange thing, Ulric!
There is some mystery. I am sure now
Old Cuthbert thinks that Bernard is alive.
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(after a pause).
I think so too.
Ol.
And never told me, Ulric?
Where is he then? Why did he go? What had it
To do with Leolyn's death?
Ul.
Don't talk of it,
Olive, I hate to think about it.
Ol.
You, too!
You will not tell me.
Ul.
Well, I 'll tell you this,
The time will come when I must ask my father,
Have I, or have I not, a brother living?
I wait, because I know that not once, since
He lost them, has he uttered either name;
And so I shrink from breaking in with questions.
Ol.
Do tell me more of this. When have we two
Had secrets from each other?
Ul.
No, I cannot.
I could not tell such things to any girl.
Ol.
For shame, girls are not always frightened fools!
What do you mean by “such things?”
Ul.
Things I never
Have told as yet to any one on earth,
Things that no mortal creature knows but me . . .
And that I try to put away from me,
Half-hoping I have only fancied them.
'T is only since I 've ceased to he a child
I half perceive their meaning . . . it comes out
Like an invisible ink revealed by fire . . .
And still the more I hate to think of it . . .
Ask me no more. Look there!
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Why, who can that be?
Ul.
He looks like some seafaring man, but 't is not
One of our fishermen; he has climbed the rocks
Yonder at low tide.
Ol.
How he leans and gazes
Like one entranced up the rough pathway: what
Seeks he, I wonder? Does he know our house
Stands at the head of that steep glen above him?
One might guess by the cawing of the rooks
That some old manor hall was hidden there
Behind the tall pine grove.
Ul.
I must go see
What he is like.
Ol.
But here comes our own Ella.
Enter Annabella.
And where 's my Lord de Warenne?
An.
He is gone.
Ol.
And did you come, then, here to look for us?
An.
Let me confess I had forgotten quite,
You had fluttered down before me. Truth to tell,
I have come here, hardly knowing how I came.
Ul.
[whispering to Olive].
She is thinking about him, be sure of that.
[Walks away.
Ol.
You scarcely ever come, and when you do,
You only count the waves.
An.
They fascinate me.
Ol.
This spot is such a gem! So fittingly
The blue waves fill up the white curve of sand,
And the red walls of rock on either side,
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Make such a brightness, too, that in the dark
Even to think of it dazzles my two eyes.
Ul.
[returning].
He seems a sailor, and he looks so strange,
Somehow I scarcely like to speak to him,
Or rouse him from his thoughts by coming near.
I 'll find out all about him from the fishers.
[Exit.
Ol.
Dear Annabella, you 'll not marry him?
You will not leave us all for Lord de Warenne?
An.
But I shall be the same to you as ever.
Ol.
Then you do mean it? You do really mean it?
Ella, then will you really marry him?
An.
One day.
Ol.
Oh, Ella!
An.
But why speak as if
You hated the old friend you doated on so
No further back—and that 's but yesterday—
Than when you were the naughtiest of children?
Ol.
But when I think you are betrothed to him
It seems so different. Do you—do you love him?
An.
You ask me that just in the awe-struck voice
You used to urge me on with when I paused
In telling fairy tales; and, truth to speak,
The question suits those silly stories best.
Ol.
I do not think that I can ever bear it.
Why should there be a change? We were so happy.
If I should tell you what I think of it,
You would laugh at me again. No chivalry—
Nothing romantic—nothing wonderful—
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But if I did—of course I do not mean to—
It should be some one from afar, some stranger
Suddenly lighted at our gates, half knight,
Half angel, dropped amongst us from the skies.
But as for you . . . Just tell me one thing, Ella.
Will you be angry with me?
An.
What new question?
I fear, no wiser than the last.
Ol.
I wish
You had loved some one else. If, now—if, now,
Suddenly Bernard should return amongst us . . .
An.
Do not go on with that.
Ol.
May I not, Ella?
Will you not tell me if he still is living?
An.
I know not. No one knows.
Ol.
What do you think?
An.
That he is dead. What can this be to you?
To you he can be but a faintest painting
On childhood's blotted, confused memory;
No more than one you have read of in a book.
But I had grown to feel them both my brothers,
And therefore every time I speak their names,
'T is like a blood-drop wrung out of my heart.
[Starting up.
Oh, no! I cannot, will not, bear this spot!
Ol.
Forgive me, Ella! Let us come away.
An.
[kissing her].
Poor baby! But I was not angry with you.
[Exeunt Annabella and Olive.
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