University of Virginia Library

SCENE II.

Spacious room as before.
An armed Soldier waits with despatches. Enter Hamilton and Craigburn.
Craig.
Comes Strathmore hither?

Ham.
Yes, you see despatches
Await him from the camp.

Craig.
Has he yet eyes
To spell the text of war with, or does grief
For yon malignant, who to-morrow dies,
Blind his friend's sight?

Ham.
Shame, shame, thou ruthless man!
No vain laments express his mighty woe;
But a calm reigns, like the immovable heavens
When they look down on earthquake. Peace, he comes!
Enter Strathmore.
Despatches wait you, sir, from Burley.

Sol.
[Presenting despatches to Strathmore.]
Ay,
From godly Burley.

Strath.
[In a low level tone, and with passionless dignity.]
Hold you ready then
For prompt return. No, stay, you're worn with travel.
Bid young Moncrieff with some six more to horse,
Then ask my orders here.

[Soldier goes out, Strathmore sits and reads despatches.
Craig.
What's Burley's news?

Strath.
He wishes reinforcements.

Craig.
And should have them straightway.

Ham.
Can you grant them?

Strath.
No;
Our slender force would weigh but as a grain
In the great balance, and would nothing stead him,
While foes would seize on these deserted walls,
And our retreat spread panic through our friends.

Ham.
'Tis well resolved.

Strath.
[Writing.]
Are yet those stores arrived
Of corn and cattle?

Ham.
Not yet.

Strath.
Hasten them.

Ham.
I will betimes to-morrow, sir.

Strath.
[Dropping the pen, and sitting motionless.]
Tomorrow!

Ham.
I know what that dread morrow brings; yet think
Even had you wavered, you could not have saved him;
The attempt had roused rebellion through our band.
Your truth as man, your oath as judge, your duty
As chief enforced, and Heaven ordained his death.

Strath.
[Rising.]
Then leave it, friend, to Heaven to grant the strength
For that which Heaven ordains.
[He again writes; beckons to Soldier who has re-entered; seals and gives him despatch.
Straight to the camp!

[Soldier goes out.
Enter Roland.
Rol.
[To Strathmore.]
Your pardon, noble sir! [Sees Hamilton—he hesitates.]
I bear a message.

Ham.
Speak it!

Rol.
'Tis only for your captain's ear.

Craig.
A mystery!

Strath.
Friend, your business?

Rol.
Nay, sir;
'Tis with yourself in private.

Craig.
[To Hamilton.]
Marked you that?

Strath.
Declare your errand to these gentlemen.

Rol.
[Reluctantly.]
The Lady Katharine would see your honour.

Strath.
See me!

Craig.
It cannot be: go.

Rol.
Friend, I'll take
Your answers when I ask them. [To Strathmore.]
Sir, she pleads
Most weighty reasons.

Craig.
Are you gone?

Rol.
Such reasons
As touch her father's life!

Strath.
Say you, his life?

Rol.
[Doggedly.]
'Twas thus she charged me—say, by Strathmore's oath,
As upright judge, as he would 'scape the curse
Of needless blood, I claim to speak with him
Alone, and instantly.

Strath.
[To Craigburn.]
You hear!

Craig.
Again
I do deny her suit. What afterproof
Can clear the self-condemned?

Strath.
We know not that
Until we know the proof. What if her father
Vaunted in rage an uncommitted deed,
Or hid its provocation?

Craig.
Do you hope it?

Strath.
I dare not; but as little dare refuse
The right to prove it. We must meet alone.

Ham.
Alone?

Strath.
It is her will.

Craig.
Her will!

Strath.
Then mine.
[To Roland.]
Say that I wait the Lady Katharine.

[Roland goes out.
Ham.
[Aside.]
Is he true?
The waves of Ashdod poison those of Canaan
Whene'er they mingle. [To Craigburn.]
Fear not, we'll observe him;
Ere night I will compel him change the watch.

[Hamilton and Craigburn go out.
Strath.
[Alone, dropping into a chair.]
See her! . . . See Katharine! . . . Katharine! . . . That name
Comes to my ear as though I long had passed
Into the realm of souls, and caught, perplexed,
A sound once dear on earth. . . . Katharine! . . . A face
Gleams on me as through mist—brows wide and white
'Neath rippling auburn; eyes like springs, that hint
Love's soundless depths! . . . Speak, speak! . . . do I not hear
That voice which was thy heart made audible
Answering to mine—to mine, as when we stood
Last by the scutcheon'd gate while tremulous love
Broke through the hush as through the dusk—the star!
Again, good night! we clasp, part, linger still.
Now she glides homeward; but her low farewell
Sums all the unseen sweetness of her face,
And follows me in blessing. Ay, 'tis she,
My joy incarnate, self of self, love, life.
Katharine, my Katharine! [He pauses, overwhelmed with emotion, then suddenly restrains himself.]
What if she should come,
And find me thus swept down by this wild flood
Of bursting grief, and from that sight draw hope,
When hope there's none, and I should so delude her!
[Starting up.]
Freeze, freeze, ye naked heavens, and keep me stone—
For her sake, freeze!

Re-enter Roland, followed by Katharine.
Kath.
Retire!
[Roland goes out.
'Tis he—he moves not, speaks not! [Advancing to him]
Strathmore!

Strath.
What would you with me, lady?

Kath.
Is it thus
That Halbert speaks to Katharine?

Strath.
Hush! those names
Belong to a past world.

Kath.
False! there's no past
To fates so knit as ours. Thou may'st stab love,
But not love's ever-haunting ghost, remembrance.

Strath.
Your errand?

Kath.
I'm a child: my father's life
Hangs on your breath. My errand!

Strath.
Hark! yon sea;
You hear it break?

Kath.
Ay, on a rock.

Strath.
A rock
That shivers it and dashes it to spray.
Still the tide flows; 'tis ocean's law. So man
Obeys his law—the conscience. Though it drive
On ruin, he obeys.

Kath.
On ruin! Ay,
You feel it such. You'd save my father; but
Your comrades hem you round and force your hand—
Your shrinking hand—to strike. It is not Strathmore
Who with a double murder stabs the sire,
And, through the sire, the child!

Strath.
No, 'tis not Strathmore.
You look on Justice.

Kath.
[Softening.]
Halbert, no; thou still
Art human. Human woe has ploughed thy cheek;
Thine eyes crave human tears. Before them glides
A dream of our past love—perchance that sunset
When on thy breast I leaned and took thy ring—
The ring which pledged us! [Showing a ring which she wears.]
Ah! thou know'st it—start,
And feel thou art a man!

Strath.
[Involuntarily.]
I am, I am!

Kath.
Then save my father.

Strath.
Can I?

Kath.
Yes!

Strath.
Oh, cruel to ask that question of thee.

Kath.
Yes!

Strath.
Mistake not—
His innocence must save him. Dared I dream
That thou couldst prove it—that his pride belied him
When he avowed the crime; or that, withstood,
He smote but in defence—aught that disproves
Or can excuse the deed—how would I clasp
Thy feet in transport! Not the cry, “A sail!”
To gasping swimmers; not the shout, “Reprieve!”
When gleams the axe; not the wife's sudden face,
From far-off home, beside the dying exile—
Oh, I but mock my joy, comparing it!
Give earth a new bliss, give my dead hope life,
By one word—“Innocent!” Speak, if thou canst.

Kath.
Why you have spoken. Since you will his life,
Effect your will.

Strath.
Your evidence?

Kath.
'Tis here.
You were almost his son.

Strath.
Your evidence?

Kath.
[Desperately.]
I have none! Wilt thou save him? There are means
Which yet you guess not—we can balk the hounds
Even at their spring. Defer Sir Rupert's fate
A week—nay, grant three days; ere then my brother—

Strath.
Ah!

Kath.
Now you guess. My brother may return
Head of a force with which your scanty band
Must cope in vain. As you would spare their blood,
Preserve this secret.

Strath.
That the enemy
May find us unprepared?

Kath.
Your followers few—ill-armed, undisciplined—
Must perish in the conflict. But submit,
No hair of theirs shall suffer! 'tis my oath.

Strath.
[Aside.]
Another moment, and I'm lost! Right, conscience,
Like lapsing earth, slip from me! Ere three days
The foe may be upon us! even to-night!
The storm may gather while we dream of safety,
And wake us with its bolt! Scouts, scouts, forthwith
On every road, bid others watch the coast,
And each man sleep in arms! Ho, Hamilton!
Craigburn!

[He rushes towards the door.
Kath.
[Intercepting him.]
You shall not pass!

Strath.
I must!

Kath.
My arms are frail;
They cannot bar thee! Canst thou pass these eyes
Once lit by thine?

Strath.
I pass!

Kath.
[Still confronting him.]
Thou canst not; Nature
Revolts against the deed! Thy feet are fixed
To the detaining earth; thy face is stone;
A cry peals from these shuddering walls to pierce
The vault of Time; and, lo, the shrouded years
Leap from their graves! [Grasping his arm.]
Here, by the old man's side,
Thy boyish steps have pattered; by yon hearth
He held thee at his knee—his playful hand
Entangled in thy hair—and stooped his ear
To catch thy prattle! Dost thou still advance?
Then over me! Look, by that chair we knelt
To plight our troth before him, while his voice—
A soldier's voice, weak with the weight of love—
Faltered his blessing! Come, be bold! Fulfil
Thy work! Stand on my father's hearth, and there,
There where he blessed us, speak his doom!

[Dragging him to the hearth.
Strath.
[Breaking from her.]
Craigburn!

[He extends his hands towards the door, and falls senseless.