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175
WOMAN'S TRUST.
A DRAMATIC SKETCH.
Scene—Germany. A Masked Ball.Madelon and a Stranger, in a deep recess.
MADELON.
Why hast thou led me here?
My friends may deem it strange, unmaidenly,
This lonely converse with an unknown mask.
Yet in thy voice there is a thrilling power
That makes me love to linger! It is like
The tone of one far distant—only his
Was gayer and more soft.
STRANGER.
Sweet Madelon!
Say thou wilt smile upon the passionate love
That thou alone canst waken! Let me hope!
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Hush! hush! I may not hear thee. Know'st thou not
I am betrothed?
STRANGER.
Alas! too well I know!
But I could tell thee such a tale of him—
Thine early love—'twould fire those timid eyes
With lightning pride and anger,—curl that lip,
That gentle lip, to passionate contempt
For man's light falsehood! Even now he bends—
Thy Rupert bends—o'er one as fair as thou,
In fond affection. Even now his heart—
MADELON.
Doth my eye flash? doth my lip curl with scorn?—
'Tis scorn of thee, thou perjured stranger! not—
Oh! not of him, the generous and the true!
Hast thou e'er seen my Rupert? hast thou met
Those proud and fearless eyes, that never quailed,
As Falsehood quails, before another's glance—
As thine even now are shrinking from mine own—
The spirit-beauty of that open brow—
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The lofty mien, whose majesty is won
From inborn honour,—Hast thou seen all this?
And darest thou speak of faithlessness and him
In the same idle breath? Thou little know'st
The strong confiding of a woman's heart,
When woman loves—as I do! Speak no more!
STRANGER.
Deluded girl!—I tell thee he is false—
False as yon fleeting cloud!
MADELON.
True as the sun!
STRANGER.
The very wind less wayward than his heart!
MADELON.
The forest oak less firm! He loved me not
For the frail rose hues and the fleeting light
Of youthful loveliness!—Ah! many a cheek,
Of softer bloom, and many a dazzling eye,
More rich than mine, may win my wanderer's gaze!
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For my unfaltering truth—he cannot find,
Rove where he will, a heart that beats for him
With such intense, absorbing tenderness—
Such idolizing constancy as mine!
Why should he change then?—I am still the same
STRANGER.
Sweet infidel! wilt thou have ruder proof?
Rememberest thou a little golden case
Thy Rupert wore, in which a gem was shrined?—
A gem I would not barter for a world!—
An angel face!—its sunny wealth of hair
In radiant ripples bathed the graceful throat
And dimpled shoulders,—round the rosy curve
Of the sweet mouth a smile seemed wandering ever,—
While in the depths of azure fire that gleamed
Beneath the drooping lashes, slept a world
Of eloquent meaning—passionate, but pure!—
Dreamy, subdued,—but oh! how beautiful!—
A look of timid, pleading tenderness,
That should have been a talisman to charm
His restless heart for aye! Rememberest thou?
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(impatiently.)
I do—I do remember! 'twas my own!
He prized it as his life—I gave it him!
What of it? speak!
STRANGER
(shewing the miniature.)
Lady, behold that gift!
MADELON
(clasping her hands.)
Merciful heaven! Is my Rupert dead?
(After a pause, during which she seems overwhelmed in agony.)
How died he?—when? Oh! thou wert by his side
In that last hour—and I was far away!
My blessed love! Give me that token!—speak!
What message sent he to his Madelon?
STRANGER
(supporting her, and strongly agitated.)
He is not dead, dear lady! grieve not thus!
MADELON.
He is not false, sir stranger!
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For thy sake,
Would he were worthier! One other proof
I'll give thee, loveliest! if thou lov'st him still,
I'll not believe thee woman! Listen then!
A faithful lover breathes not of his bliss
To other ears.—Wilt hear a fable, lady?—
Softly from heaven the starlight fell,
And trembled in the playful wave;
Faintly the far-off vesper bell
Its wild and mournful music gave!
With frolic feet, and floating hair
That glistened in the radiant air,
A maiden sought the river's side;
The white sands beamed beneath her tread,
And smiled beyond the baffled tide,
That murmuring and receding fled.
Their silvery sparkle caught her eye,—
Smooth was their tempting sheen and dry;
The summer evening still and warm;
The maiden weary;—on the sand
She lightly laid her fairy form,
And leaned her head upon her hand.
And as she leaned, her lovely hair
Fell o'er a forehead pure and fair,—
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Swept her soft cheek's transparent hue,—
And trembled, like a glossy wreath
Of gold, upon the ground beneath!
That dreaming maiden did not hear
The swift, light footstep, stealing near;
She did not see the knee that bent
Beside her softly, as she leant!
With faltering finger, in the sand
She traced a single word, and then
She blushed, and passed her pretty hand
Across it, and began again;—
“Rupert” she wrote—nay start not so!
Fair lady! why that sudden glow?
Once more she traced the name—and lo!
Beside it, as by magic, shone
Another!—it was “Madelon!”
The maiden turned, confused, distressed,—
Her Rupert clasped her to his breast!—
While fond and warm, the impassioned boy
Revealed his love, his hope, his joy,
To her young cheek the rose of shame
In glowing tumult softly came;
And trembled in her timid eye
The tear of maiden-modesty!
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And Rupert soothed her bashful fear:
And ere the vesper hymn was done,
A plighted maid was Madelon!
Lady! my task is o'er—dost doubt me still?
MADELON.
Doubt thee, my Rupert!—ah! I know thee now!
Fling by that hateful mask!—let me unclasp it!
No! thou wouldst not betray thy Madelon!
(Takes off his Mask.)
RUPERT.
Come to my heart! my faithful! my adored!
Oh! guileless, constant, true as heaven itself,
Must be the breast wherein dwells trust so pure!
MADELON.
And didst thou think to shake my faith in thee
By idle tales like these? Yet it was wrong,
A cruel mockery, Rupert! Woman's love
Is far too tender and too soft a flower
To be so played with!—Ah! we may not deal
Too roughly with the rose!—And why was this?
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Forgive me, Madelon!—'twas but to try
Thy strength. In my long wanderings I have heard
So much of woman's fickleness, and seen
So much of evil—nay! of ruin, wrought
By woman's causeless jealousy!—But thou—
Oh! thou hast been a bright and holy proof
That only in the heart too prone itself
To stray from truth, doth dark suspicion dwell!
I bless thee then, my noble Madelon!
For thy deep love, and thy unconquered trust!
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