University of Virginia Library

ACT IV.

SCENE I.

Another Room in the same.
Athelwold alone.
ATHELWOLD.
And for this woman, I have stained for ever
My noble name! For this light, feeble thing,
Who has not even soul enough to feel
The sacrifice I made for her,—the loss
Of all that should be dearest unto man—
Perjured myself for her—broke my pledged faith,
To Edgar doubly due, as King and friend!
I have deserved the wound, but not from her—
Not from that hand so linked in love to mine!—
Or did I dream she loved me! Heaven and earth!
Have I been wasting heart, and soul, and life,
On a cold, reckless wanton? Oh, Elfrida!
Thy glorious beauty was the gift of heaven,—
As such thou shouldst have priz'd it, and have died
Ere thou didst yield it up to mortal touch,
Unless thy heart went with it, to make pure
And sanctify the offering. Oh, my wife!—
The idol I have set apart to worship—
Watch'd over—cherish'd—mus'd upon in absence,
Until my full heart ached with tenderness!—
Why! what a doting idiot have I been!

Enter Manbert.
MANBERT
(aside.)
True!
(Coming forward.)
My Lord! danger's at hand!

ATHELWOLD.
Danger for whom?

MANBERT.
Thyself!

ATHELWOLD.
Of what?

MANBERT.
Of death!

ATHELWOLD.
Well?

MANBERT.
Thou must fly!

ATHELWOLD
(bitterly.)
And wherefore must?
Good Manbert! go thou to the desert wild,
And shew the panting wretch, whose very heart
Is parched with thirst, a fountain at his feet!
Then bid him fly, and taste it not! Or take
Unto the tortured victim of the rack
A bed of down, and offer him his choice!
Manbert! to me is death a bed of down,—
A fountain, in whose draught oblivion dwells—
Oblivion of all sorrow!

MANBERT
(aside.)
Now, by the mass! I will betray the woman!

ATHELWOLD.
But I wrong
Thy kindly nature thus to trifle with thee;—
From whom didst learn this danger?

MANBERT.
Hear!—My lady—

ATHELWOLD
(aside.)
Ay! poor Elfrida! she would warn me then!
She doth repent her folly—thoughtless child!
She dreams not of her own far greater peril.
No! I will not desert her in her hour
Of trial and temptation!—she has lost
My love—my trust—but never shall she lose
My best protection while I live to give it!
(Aloud.)
What said thy lady, Manbert?

MANBERT
(with emphasis.)
She placed a dagger in my hand, my Lord!

ATHELWOLD.
Fond, fearful thing! I've daggers of my own.
But am I then to be th' assassin's aim?
I would not die that death! And she did send
A weapon of defence?—She loves me still!

MANBERT.
She gave me with the dagger, sir, a purse!

ATHELWOLD.
Lest I lack means to fly! I would not leave her
In Edgar's power, while life is in this arm,
Though all the dogs of hell were on the scent,
To lap my heart's blood!

MANBERT.
Oh, my noble master!
'Tis she would have your heart's blood!

ATHELWOLD.
'Sdeath! fellow! dost thou rave?

MANBERT.
Scarce an hour since—
With hollow voice, disordered dress, and eyes
Where flashed a demon light—she bade me take
A bribe to stab the traitor Athelwold!
And look for farther meed, not from herself
Alone, but—

ATHELWOLD.
Edgar? ha!—my royal foe!
Now is existence dear again!—now hath
This low-souled Sovereign matched me my dishonour!
Is he not King? had he not power to take
This poor life in the open face of day?
By heaven, thou'st lightened me of such a load
Of gratitude to him, whom I did wrong,
And pity for this woman.—Take her, King!
Love her as I have lov'd, and she will prove
A curse to thee and thine! My sword, good Manbert!—
I must go armed. To-morrow, while the chase
Is hot, I'll quit the eager train unseen,
And fly to Scotland. Kenneth is my friend—
The noble Kenneth! Peace may yet be mine.
I will forget that e'er I had a home
In England's heart, or hers.
Thou, Manbert, stay;
And shield this reckless creature, if thou canst,
From ruin and dishonour.
Tell her,—he
Who loved her once, would guard her still from shame.
Bear my forgiveness to her when I'm gone!
Farewell, my trusty Manbert! Take this purse;
I ask not where her bribe is,—for I know
Thy honour and thy pride would spurn the trash.

[Exit.
MANBERT.
Thy gold I but retain to furnish me
With means to follow thee, my generous master!

Enter Elfrida, hastily, with a distracted air.
ELFRIDA.
I cannot rest!
Ha, Manbert! is it thou?
Thou hast the purse still?—
And the dagger?—speak!
The dagger's work is finished?—it has found
The traitor's life-blood? Speak! my faithful Manbert!

MANBERT
(confused.)
There's been as yet no chance—
To-morrow—in the hunt—my lady—

[Exit, in haste.
ELFRIDA.
How?—
Ay, ay! 'twere better so! Suspicion then
Will never rest on me.—Good God! what am I?
Am I turned fiend? that wheresoe'er I go
The sounds of hell are ringing in mine ears,
And all things—even the clear and holy skies,
The flowers, the fountains—wear the hue of blood!
The blood of Athelwold!
Nay! not to-morrow!
Thou shalt not do the deed to-morrow, Manbert!
We'll wait awhile— (looks wildly round.)

Where is he?—gone?

[Exit.

SCENE II.

Adelmine discovered on a rustic seat, near the Castle.
ADELMINE.
(Hums a few notes, and then sings the following.)

(Guido enters behind her unperceived, and lays his hand on her shoulder. Adelmine screams, turns and sees him.)
ADELMINE.
I thought—Thank heaven 'twas not that hateful King!
Cruel! to fright me so! I'll not forgive thee.

GUIDO.
Ay! but thou wilt!

ADELMINE.
I will not—that I will not!

GUIDO.
I tell thee, ere yon cloud has crossed the sun,
Thou'lt weep thy pardon on my breast, sweet love!

ADELMINE.
Guido!

GUIDO.
Dear Adelmine! the King, incensed
At my defiance of his haughty will,
Has banished me.

ADELMINE
(throwing herself on his breast.)
Thou wilt not go alone?

GUIDO.
Alone, and unforgiven, Adelmine!

ADELMINE.
Oh, trifle not!—I do, I do forgive thee.
But wilt thou go alone?

GUIDO.
How should I else?

ADELMINE.
Oh! is there none—no friend, whose tireless love
Might sooth and bless thee in thy wanderings?

GUIDO.
I know of none.

ADELMINE.
Of none?—unkind! (turns away.)


GUIDO.
Thou dost not mean thyself?—by heav'n thou dost!
Those downcast eyes—that drooping, shrinking form—
That deepening blush!—come to my heart, my purest!
And didst thou dream that I would bear my flower,
My timid violet, forth into the stir
Of this rude world? Oh! thou wert made to dwell
Where but the loving light of heaven, its dew
And balmy air, should kiss thy virgin brow—
Thou couldst not bide the storm!

ADELMINE.
And could I not?
Oh, Guido! let me go!
There is no storm so fierce, but love's pure smile
Can light a rainbow through it:—Let me go!

GUIDO.
And leave thy home?

ADELMINE.
Thou art my home!

GUIDO.
Thy maiden dreams of joy?

ADELMINE.
They go with thee!
Oh! if thou leave me here
Without them, love, an exile from thy heart,
Thou art a sterner tyrant than the King,
And dost enforce a sadder banishment
Than even thine own!
Thou wilt not, gentle Guido!

GUIDO.
But were it known that we escape together,
Fierce Edgar's anger might alight on thee.

ADELMINE
(in a low, emphatic tone.)
His anger is less fearful than his love!

GUIDO.
By heaven! thou mov'st me now.
Thou'rt in his power!
The very thought hath madness in't!
Thou'lt fly?

ADELMINE.
I will.

GUIDO.
But how?

ADELMINE.
I thought not how!
But stay!—To-morrow doth the King go forth,
With all his train, to hunt. The wandering bard
Who came last night, and for whose simple wants
I did provide, is grateful for my care:
I'll have for gold his mantle and his cap;
And thus disguised—for well the minstrel-garb
Will hide the beatings of a woman's heart—
I'll join the chase, and meet thee in the forest.

GUIDO.
Be it so then!
To-morrow's sun shall see
A bride more beauteous than his own Aurora!
Farewell! Heaven bless thee!

[Exeunt different ways.