University of Virginia Library

ACT IV.

Scene First.

—Gallery in Sir Walter's House; door in the remote flat, and arms suspended against the wall; table, L. C.; chairs.
Sir Walter discovered seated in a chair, L., his face buried in his hands, Jabez standing beside him, R. of table.
Jabez.
Weak, weak! The flesh is weak, and it rebels
Despite the spirit—yet it must be done.
Ho! Walter Amyott!
Up and arouse thee! Sink not feebly thus,
Like a weak worldling. Up! thou hast surprised
The wicked in their tents! Up, and be doing!

Sir Wal.
(slowly raising his head)
What?

Jabez.
Justice!

Sir Wal.
(mournfully)
What is that?—There is no justice!
I lavished on her love, whose liberal bounty,
Had it been lord of worlds, would have cast worlds
Before her feet, and felt a beggar still,
Having no more to offer. I gave to her
My heart and all its thoughts. I kept back nothing;
And, lest my soul with too absorbed devotion
Should worship its great wealth, I day and night
Gave thanks to heaven that lent me such a treasure,
And prayed to be more worthy its possession.
(then passionately)
What have I done? What have I left undone,
That I should meet with such return? Out, cut!
There is no justice!

Jabez.
But there is revenge!

Sir Wal.
(mournfully)
No, not for me; the bruised worm may turn;
The crushed one suffers motionless.

Jabez.
Is't thus
A strong man and a soldier suffers?

Sir W.
Strong?
Ay, there has been when, as the hot blood coursed,
I've felt as though this hand could rend an oak.
Look at it now! Were I to grasp a sword
An infant would disarm me—trembling fool!

Jabez.
It shall not need the warrior's sword to punish.
A word will do it. Thou shalt yield him up
To the avengers of the righteous blood
That still cries out. Their banner is abroad,
And they shall recompense him.

Sir Wal.
(proudly, and rising)
How! Betray
My personal enemy to party foes!
Bid public justice move for private hate!
Play traitor to a helpless wretch, whom still
My own hand dare not strike! Away with thee!
Ere sink so abject in my own esteem,
I'd be myself his guide to where, alone,
We might stand hand to hand, and foot to foot,
With none but heaven for umpire! (suddenly)
But thou'rt certain
He has not fled already—for thy life
Make me assured he's not escaped!

Jabez.
He cannot;
I've set a watch again without the house,
And brought thee here within. He is still locked
In the Bower Chamber. (points, R. 2 E.)


Sir Wal.
Ay, but then the boy?
Ere this he has told her all, and she is warned.

Jabez.
I heeded too for that—the boy is safe
In close confinement.

Sir Wal.
Thou'rt the pearl of watchdogs!
I love thee! But do all things quietly.
To trap is ever better than to hunt,
When 'tis unlawful game we follow.

Jabez.
Not a tongue can breathe to her
Her crime's discovery; she sits unconscious,
As doth the bird before the fowler's gun.
Not even the capture of that evil man
Of a strange land hath been revealed to her.

Sir Wal.
(in agony)
Eveline! Eveline! My wife! my wife!
Oh why did'st thou not die? I would have wept thee
With holy tears—embalmed thee in my heart—
Borne thy sweet image to my early grave,
And triumphed to rejoin thee! Eveline!
This is not true! 'tis some wild hellish plot,
By demons gendered! Thou— (to Jabez)
—none likelier.
She said thou wast a knave. Say thou hast done this—
Confess it, and thy knavery shall be
Above all virtue! Dost thou crave for gold?
Take it! Take all I have! I prize it not.
Take all my wealth, my house, my honours, lands;
Strip bare my body—take my health—my strength—
My blood—my life! but spare me Eveline!

(falls into chair, R.)
Jabez.
Methought thine eyes bore evidence against her.
Bid them deny their knowledge.

Sir Wal.
They are liars!
(crosses to L.)
My sight—my senses—thou—myself—all false;
And only she is true! Oh, she was ever
Holy as Eve, ere Eve had forfeit Eden!
Pure as an infant's dreams! Go, send her to me;
None but herself shall tell me I have lost her.

Jabez.
And thou wilt hear—

Sir Wal.
(passionately)
Not thee! Send me my wife!
(then pausing)
And for thy soul still keep thy secret close.
I would not—it may be we yet mistake her—
Perhaps—perhaps she still is innocent—
She may— (impatiently)
Go, go!
Exit Jabez, L. 1 E.
Oh, I am very, very miserable!
(buries his face in his hands: then suddenly starting)
And when she comes, what shall I say? Entice her
To lie against my sense? To disavow
That which my eyes have seen? She dare not do it!
And yet the thought, to raise
On that soft childlike cheek the burning blush
Of crimson shame! Make those calm gentle eyes
Start wide with horror! Give my gross surmise
Language and words! Oh, would that I were dead!

Enter Lady Eveline, L.
Lady E.
Walter!

Sir Wal.
(turned from her)
Ay.

Lady E.
You sent for me.

Sir Wal.
(faintly)
I did. (he rises and advances, C.)


Lady E.
What is the matter? (takes his hand affectionately —he draws it away with a shudder)
How! Reject my hand!

Sir Wal.
It chilled me. There's a something in the touch
That mine revolts at. I have been but ill.
The air has been alive—dark faces glaring.
Cold clammy hands been laid on mine—I felt them
And tried to push them off but could not.

Lady. E.
(astonished)
Walter!

Sir Wal.
(turning away his head)
We're alone—
Is there not something thou would'st say to me?
That heart is doubly sick
Which hoards its malady close shut within it,
As thine has done. Give it relief. Speak!

Lady E.
What?

Sir Wal.
That hidden thing which presses on thy soul,
A hideous nightmare—that which turns the smile
Upon thy lips, to poison in thy heart—
Which makes the light of day a sickening terror
Worse than night's gloom—till horrid night comes peopled
With prodigies that shriek again for day.

Lady E.
(amazed)
Oh, Walter! what is this?
Some sudden frenzy has possess'd his brain—
Without there!

Sir Wal.
(stopping her)
Silence, madam! Rest you still.

Lady E.
(timidly but gently)
Then look on me as thou art wont to look,
And let me soothe thy care! What is it, Walter?
I have performed ere now the nurse's office,
And, thou did'st tell me, skilfully. Rest now,
Thy head upon my heart.

Sir Wal.
Is it so large,
There still is room? How many will it hold?

Lady E.
In such a sense as it is due to all,
Then all the human kind: but in that straiter
And inner clasp where love lies hoarded up,
Then only thee—and well thou knowest it.

Sir Wal.
Wondrous?
This is past credit! I'm my senses' fool.
My eyes grow dim, and lack the power to see.
No blush! no mark of shame! her open brow
Raised boldly still! Oh, monstrous prodigy!
Hast thou no sense? Dost hear, see, understand,
And yet not tremble?

Lady E.
Wherefore should I, Walter?
Whate'er the passion that distracts thee, well
I know thou would'st not harm thine Eveline,
Who never knew a word, a thought, a look,
That was not love for thee.

Sir Wal.
(sinking into a chair)
'Tis past my skill!

Lady E.
Lean on thy wife—thy throbbing head will find
No resting place so true—

Sir Wal.
(stares at her with blank astonishment—then, passionately)
I'll hear no more!
My reeling brain grows mad! Speak, Eveline!
Does that fair seeming form shut in an art
Beyond a devil's skill, or art thou yet
That which thou look'st to me? Hast thou indeed
Betrayed my boundless confidence? Brought in
Even beneath my father's sacred roof,
The blaster of my honour? Eveline,
Speak! I will trust it from no lip but thine—
Answer me, Eveline! (in agony)


Enter Jabez hastily, L. 1 E.
Jabez.
Where is Sir Walter? (Sir Walter crosses, L. C.)

All is confusion in the court below.
A troop of horse is halted at the gate;
And he who bears command enquires for you.
He says that a malignant has been tracked
To shelter here.

Sir Wal.
Aha! They answer for thee!
Hear you this, madam? What, you bend at last?
You are pale—you tremble now for him!

Lady E.
(faintly)
For him?

Sir Wal.
Thou thought'st the searching, universal eye
That spies through every corner of the land,
Hoodwinked as easy as a weak, fond husband's?
That none would whisper a young cavalier,
Crept into Amyott's house—was welcomed there—
Locked in the lady's chamber! Ha, ha, ha!
Oh, it was nothing! Such a thing of course
Could wake no comment— (crosses, L.)


Lady E.
He knows all. Oh, Walter,
Thou wilt not yield him to his enemies?
Thou wilt forgive him—shield him!

Sir Wal.
(paralysed)
Mad! She's mad!

Lady E.
Shall I be blamed that he is dear to me?
Oh, could'st thou tell how dear! True he has wronged thee,
Yet never shews a noble mind so great
As when it pardons.

Sir Wal.
(furiously, and flinging her off)
Viper! (draws his sword)


Lady E.
Walter! Husband!
What would'st thou do? (rushes to door, R. 2 E.)


Sir W.
His blood! Stand off! His blood!
My very soul's athirst for it. Beware!
Thine own life is not safe.

Lady E.
Why take it then,
So his be spared! Living thou shalt not pass me!
Here is my post, and if thou wilt advance,
My heart lies first upon thy bloody road.

(Sir Walter pauses, staring on her with amazement)
Enter Maud, L. 1 E.
Sir W.
(at length)
Stand quickly from my path
Or take the consequence— (approaching her)


Maud.
Sir! Are you mad?
What would you do—frighting your helpless wife?
Turn back your passion on its proper road—
There's food enough for it. Your rank is outraged;
Your station scorned. A saucy Jack below
Would search your house like any common tavern,
And force his way inside.

Sir Wal.
(abruptly)
Give him admission;
'Tis well! A private death were too much mercy.
A public shame; do you hear, madam? public!
Give the man entrance.

Exit Jabez, L. 1 E.
Maud.
You'll not suffer this?

Sir Wal.
Out, useful go-between! Who waits there? Bid them
Give free admittance to whoever asks it.
Throw wide the doors—we've no concealments here;
Oh, no concealments—none! (bitterly)


Maud.
(aside to Lady Eveline)
My precious lady,
All's lost—all's lost! Soldiers surround the house.
Six mounted troopers watch beneath his window!
What's to be done? What's left for us?

Lady E.
(calmly)
Despair!

Enter a Parliamentary Officer.
Sir Wal.
(sternly—sitting at table, L. C.)
Well, sir, you have some business here?

Officer.
(L.)
The Lord Protector deigns to honour me—
Albeit but a weak, unworthy vessel—
With his commission. I have learned a traitor,
A fugitive malignant, here hath sheltered.
I come to seize him.

Sir Wal.
(bitterly)
Ask the lady yonder,
My wife—I am myself but new come home,
And, in my absence, she has kept the house;
Ask her whom she has entertained.

Officer.
Ha, ha!
There is not many a pretty wife will tell
Whom she has feasted in her husband's absence.

(crosses, L.)
Sir Wal.
(passionately)
Wretch! (then checking himself)

But no—you— (to Eveline, with assumed calmness)
Your answer, madam?

Officer.
Speak!

Lady E.
(R. C.)
That I, in England, am the only lady
Whose husband would sit calmly by her side
And hear her thus insulted.

Sir Wal.
Still so bold!

Officer.
Come, my fair mistress; bring the gallant forth,
Or I shall drag him out. There's not a corner
In all your house, wherein the rat can hide;
But I'll put in a ferret there. (goes up slowly)


Sir Wal.
(as before)
Proceed, sir!
The lady, she will bear you company—
Shew you the way—point out her secret chambers.

Lady E.
I'll not believe this.
You cannot be so changed. Deny it, Walter!
Deny this semblance of your outward person,
That bears no vestige of your better mind.
Have mercy, Walter!
On me, for my sake, for those happy years
Of never-clouded love that we have known;
If for no present love, still—still for these,
Be merciful!

Sir Wal.
(turning away)
I have mistook my strength—I cannot do it.
The blossom I have nursed upon my breast,
Though stained and soiled, I cannot fling it out
For common feet to trample on.

Officer.
Time wastes.
Come, my fair lady, do you give us entrance,
Or shall I call my men and force it?

Sir Wal.
Neither, sir!
This house is mine, and I forbid you place
Further a foot within it.

Lady E.
(springing forward and catching his hand)
Walter! Husband!

Sir Wal.
My name, my services, are known enough
To place me above taint of all suspicion;
And, if not so, then be the risk my own
To say you shall not set another foot,
Nor further glance an eye within my walls.

Officer.
Hereon I do attach you as a rebel;
And for the rest, I've force enough without
To level your foundations.

Sir Wal.
At your peril!
For any drop of blood that's shed this day,
Account shall be demanded of you fourfold.
Begone!

Officer.
By my good troth, and who is this
That talks so big?

Sir Wal.
(proudly)
It seems you know not, sir;
'Tis fit you learn then. I too hold commission
From the same source as you, but so above you,
That I have power, if I will, to punish
Your disobedience as rebellion. Here,
Within this district, all men bearing arms
Are under my command.

Officer.
You will forgive me
If of such sudden news I ask for proof.

Sir Wal.
(handing him his commission)
Read it, sir!

Lady E.
Oh, my noble, generous husband!
Turn not so coldly from me still!

Sir Wal.
(not noticing her)
Well? Now, sir!
Are you content?

Officer.
(sullenly returning the paper)
I see 'tis worded so,
And must submit. But look, Sir Walter Amyott,
To have these things reported to his Highness.

Sir Wal.
At your discretion. But report as well
The insolence that galled me. Tell him, then,
That sovereign rulers should shew better care
To whom they delegate authority.
That the most sacred power, wielded by hands
Of low adventurers and greedy ruffians,
Becomes a thing abhorred. Go! Get you gone, sir!
And seek another district. You shall make
No longer stay in mine! (crosses, R., and back, L.)


Officer.
You shall hear further
Of this, be certain. (aside)
Nor will I be foiled
So lightly of my hope. I'll linger near,
And have him yet.

Exit, L. 1 E., leaving the door open.
Lady E.
(flinging herself at Sir Walter's feet, and seizing his hand)
Oh, Walter, my adored!
My worshipped husband! Thou dost love me still!
Strive not to draw that precious hand away:
I will not part with it! Oh, could'st thou guess
The flood of unimagined happiness
That drowns my sense to know thou still dost love me.
Thou would'st not strive to wear so cold a brow!
Though thou should'st spurn me now, I'd yield no jot
Of that blest faith. Nay, though thine angry hand
Should even strike thy dagger in my breast,
Still, still I'd swear thou lov'st me.

Sir Wal.
(turning away his head)
Be content—
I have shielded thee!

Lady E.
At peril of thyself.

Sir W.
(releasing himself)
And now—we part—for ever!

(rushes out, L. 1 E.)
Lady E.
(after standing for a moment, stupified)
Gone?
What said he? Part, and part for ever? No!
He could not say so—'tis my own weak brain
That grows bewildered.—Walter! Where— (looking round)
Oh, brother!
What hast thou done? My heart—my heart is—Oh!

(pressing her hand on her heart, falls fainting into the arms of Maud—Jabez looking towards the chamber, takes down a musquetoon from the wall, and seats himself at the door, R., as on guard.