University of Virginia Library

ACT IV.

Scene.—Same as last scene of last act. Night. A lighted torch on each side of mantelpiece. The lamp suspended over the altar-piece is also now lighted. Door at back closed. Vivid moonlight seen through windows; some clouds, however, are also visible. The scene discovers Lilian seated and Margery. Lilian wears a tartan scarf of the Macronald pattern over a white dress, the skirt of which is long for riding. Margery is engaged in placing a rose in Lilian's dress.
Lil.
Thanks, thanks, dear Margery; you have laid out
My riding-cloak—your own too?

[Pointing to riding-cloaks and head-dresses laid near.
Enter Roderick from side door. His face wears a look of anxiety.
Mar.
Madam, all
Lie here prepared.

Lil.
'Tis well; when once our summons
Comes, it will ask despatch. We must ride far
Ere midnight, Margery.

Rod.
Ride far to-night?
Forgive me, lady, but this sudden humour
Holds not with reason.

Lil.
Have I not possessed you
Already of the cause? The knight, Sir Oscar,
Has learned that danger threats me.

Rod.
Humph! 'Tis well
To guard you from your foes, but who shall guard you
Against your guarders? How shall I answer Malcolm,
That you, at stranger's bidding, quit his walls?

Lil.
How answer Malcolm? With my heart's dear thanks
For past protection. He's my friend and cousin;
No parent to command me.

Rod.
He's your chief
And guardian of your honour.

Lil.
Not so, Roderick.
I'm guardian of my honour. Malcolm lives
His proper life. 'Tis well; but I live mine.

Rod.
These matters are beyond me. I but know
Our chiefs by their own arms protect their women,
Nor leave that care for strangers. I must tell
Sir Oscar that Macronald's walls best guard
Macronald's child, and that you stir not hence.

Lil.
Roderick, you'll ne'er say that.

Rod.
Shall I be plain?
'Tis love, not danger, prompts you to this folly.
Ride you not to your bridal?

Lil.
[Calmly.]
If it were so?

Rod.
What say'st thou?

Mar.
If it were so, says my lady—
If she did ride to church, why 'tis a journey
That most maids of her age are apt to take,
And one I plan myself—what then?

Rod.
What then?
[Trying to assume a decisive tone.
Then should I act and speak.

Lil.
Like Lilian's friend,
[Motioning him to sit, which he does. She bends over his chair.
Who from her childhood made her whim his law.
What did I ask and you not grant? To ride?
You led my palfrey. Would I hawk? 'twas you
Who trained my falcon; and you oft would laugh
Because I wept in sudden penitence
To see the heron struck. Or would I sail?
'Twas you who, smiling on me from the helm,
Held in the veering sheet; and will you now,
Old playmate—now I venture all life's freight
Upon the deep, and take the voyage whose end
Is Eden or a quicksand—now I love—
Will you now first be froward to your Lilian?

Rod.
My duty, girl!

Lil.
Thy duty is to love
And help the child who loves thee. Would she 'scape
To happiness, 'tis thou shouldst aid her flight—
Raise bars, not fix them; and thou wilt! Dear Roderick,
Thou shalt go with me and thy grandchild here—
This very night stand by me at the altar,
That I may feel the hand that led my father
When he was yet a child, in my joy's hour
Rest on my head and bless me. Say thou'lt go!

Rod.
Strive not with women: 'gainst them man's resolve
Is straw, his sternness wax. Ay, what thou wilt.
Thou art old Angus' daughter. To the last
I'll follow where thou lead'st, and bless my fate
That I, in extreme age, have lived to see
Love's crown upon thy youth.

Lil.
Nought shall divide us.
My home be henceforth thine. But we must haste
Our preparations. Where is Kenelm; seek him,
For he must with us.

Rod.
Kenelm! You have touched
On what disquiets me; though now 'tis night,
He still is absent; where, with whom, unknown.
I've strictly questioned; none within have seen him
Since fall of sun.

Lil.
[With an effort to disguise her anxiety.]
Why, then, he has gone forth
With Donald to the herd, or else prevailed
Upon our oarsmen to put out and row
In the clear moonlight. [Going to window.]
Ah, how fair a scene!

[She watches from window.
Mar.
[Apart to Roderick.]
Your look is grave; the boy's safe?

Rod.
[Apart to Margery.]
Would I knew it.
I've fears for him. The scarf and cap he wore,
As I but now have learned, were found by Donald
Some half league from the Castle. Do these signs
Augur no deed of violence? You know
The hate that some here bear him, and how swift
A death might reach him did he purpose flight.

Mar.
You'll keep this from my lady.

Rod.
Ay, 'twere ill
At such a time to grieve her, unless proof
Confirm the doubt; and yet my heart is heavy
For the quick step that comes not.

Lil.
[Returning from window, which she closes if open.]
On the lake
Or on the shore he must have wandered far;
Or else—how think'st thou, Roderick?—his great yearning
For home and kindred has at length o'erpowered him,
And he has fled. When last we met, his arm
Clasped me in such a long and fond embrace
As now seems like a farewell. If it were so,
Heaven's love preserve him!

Rod.
Thrice amen to that;
But I've an errand by this chance delayed:
'Tis from the minstrel who to-night arrived,
And soon goes hence—well that he should—a stern,
Unsocial, silent man, whom none will miss.

Lil.
I thought him what you say; but oft we err.
He doubtless mourns his chief untimely slain,
And we have ta'en for sternness in his mood
What was but sorrow. Well, what is this errand?

Rod.
Ere leaving he would see you—pay his thanks.
He has a suit too—some most private suit,
Meant for your ear. So much he importuned,
That I have let you know this.

Lil.
[Aside.]
Poor and old,
'Tis like he has such need as pride unbares
Only to few. [Aloud.]
Say that I'll see the minstrel,
That I await him here. [To Margery.]
Retire; and, Roderick,
Press instant search for Kenelm.

Rod.
I'll not fail.
[Aside, in grief.]
Would that the lad were found.

Mar.
[Warningly apart to him.]
Hush, hush! she'll hear.

[Roderick goes out by side door, followed by Margery, who takes away her own riding-dress, leaving Lilian's.
Lil.
Yes, let him come. I, on the verge of joy,
Should nought deny to others. Much I've wronged him.
If still his aspect blends with boding thoughts
Of Kenelm, and that fearful shape I saw,
Or deemed I saw, 'tis but the lingering trick
Of heated fancy. That full noon of bliss
I else had known, too strong for mortal eyes,
Heaven tempers thus with shadows. I'm as one
Named for a queen, who in her ante-chamber
Waits summons to the lordly presence-room.
Through curtains sees the softened torchlight steal,
In whose blaze stands the throne, and hears already
The rising anthem; yet, her train expectant,
Her foot advanced, fears lest some sudden form
Should cry, Thou may'st not enter!

Enter Evan by side door, followed by Murdoch, who still preserves the same disguise of dress as before, and still retains the gait, manner, and voice of an aged man.
Evan.
Madam, the minstrel whom you bade attend.

Lil.
Let him approach—withdraw. [Evan signals to supposed minstrel to approach. Murdoch approaches Lilian. Evan goes out by side door.]
Have I heard right,
You leave us? [Murdoch bows deeply in assent.]
You have ta'en but short repose;
Were it not well to bide here till the dawn?

Mur.
My mission, lady, asks despatch.

Lil.
I'm told
You have some suit to me.

Mur.
A suit most urgent.

Lil.
Speak freely.

Mur.
Pardon, if my words be strange.

Lil.
You've far to travel; sit.

[Both sit.
Mur.
I see in you
A maid betrothed—a maid who takes to-night
The name of wife.

Lil.
How knew you this? who told it?

Mur.
The power which to these aged eyes reveals
The sight of things to come.

Lil.
[With awe.]
Hast thou that gift,
That awful gift some in our land possess,
Which bids the future cast its shadow forward,
And things unacted yet grow visible?
Hast thou the second sight?

Mur.
That gift I have.
And scarce an hour since, in my trance, I saw
The knight Sir Oscar lead thee to the shrine.

Lil.
Thou saw'st this?

Mur.
In my trance: ay, proud he stood,
And stately as the topmost pine that soars
Above its fellows; and no parasite
Did round a trunk with closer tendrils wind
Than thou round him: and yet I knew him false,
And that you clasped a traitor!

[They rise.
Lil.
Traitor! Nay.
I were a traitor did I let thee move me
Even to scorn. What is thy suit, man? Speak it,
And go unpunished.

Mur.
That you hear me still,
And, having heard, judge me for what shall follow.
Brief is the sequel—to the shrine he led thee.
[Gradually resuming his natural voice.
There, still in trance, I saw the priest disguised
In minstrel's robes like mine. Strange, he approached
The pair, but not to join them! Who are ye,
He cried, that come to wed? Your sires, yet babes,
With mutual curses lisped each other's names;
And if, in manhood's strife, on any field,
They mixed in death, their very bones would stir
With life's recoil.
Child of Macronald! child of the Mackane!
Hatred has drawn your ties as close as love's,
And made your union incest!—Then I saw
The priest was Death—not gaunt and spectre pale,
As women feign him, but a warrior armed
To execute his mission!

[He throws off his minstrel's dress, and discovers himself in the garb of his clan. He wears the plaid of the Mackanes, and lays his hand on the dagger in his belt.
Lil.
Whoe'er thou art,
If I but raise one cry, thou diest; thou'rt mad!
[Pointing to his plaid.
Thy tartan—a Mackane's—would doom thee here.
There lies a secret passage [Pointing to panel]
; take that torch
And fly. I pity thee, and give thee life.

Mur.
Life! I have staked it; ere thy cry were heard,
This steel were in thy heart. [Half drawing dagger, which again he drops into sheath.]
Thou art to die.

Lil.
For what?

Mur.
Thy purposed and abhorréd union
With a Mackane. [Looking through window.]
See yon dark ridge of cloud
Bears onward to the moon? Until its light
Be veiled, make peace with heaven.

[Sits at table, and averts his face from her.
Lil.
[Apart to herself.]
To die to-night—
My marriage-night! To think when Oscar comes
He'll find the lips that bore his kisses cold,
And dim the eyes that cannot bend on him
Their setting light! [Suddenly to Murdoch.]
Whatever hate thou bear'st
My kin, I have not wronged thee; thou art human!
I am Macronald's child, and yet I tremble.
I would not die—I love. Ah! canst thou strike
A heart that loves—slay double life, even then,
When earth seems likest heaven, and, ruthless, cast
A dead joy at the gates of paradise?
Hast thou loved never?

Mur.
Girl, your time is short.

Lil.
If thou hast loved, oh! think the form that blest
Thy youth now pleads for mine. If still she live,
By thy first joy; if lost, by present grief,
Look on me; kill me not! I do not hold
To life as simple life, but since I love,
For love's sake, spare me!

[Throws herself at his feet.
Mur.
[Somewhat moved, but resolutely.]
'Tis your love that's fatal.
I cannot spare you, would I.

Lil.
[Rises.]
Spare thyself!
Thou art no common stabber. If my blood
Be on thy hand, remorse, that ever bleeds
And never dies, and vain self-loathing soon
Shall be thy portion. Never shall this night
Fade from thy brain; but thou shalt shuddering see
My image at thy feet. My voice, that sues
For pity now, shall ring within thy ear
Like judgment's peal. Ay, even unconscious things—
Yon torch that, flickering, saw the act; yon moon,
That looked in mute, and passed with its report—
This sight, through life, shall haunt thee, yea, shall line
The curtains of thy bed when Death undraws them!

Mur.
Think not to move my fears: thou may'st my pity.
Less thy poor life I seek, than to avert
The horror of this marriage. [She rises.]
Thou hast said
There is a secret way that from this chamber
Leads to the plain. [The moonlight is now lost behind the cloud, and the windows grow darker.]
Disclose it; share my flight,
And live. I've friends without; their watch and mine
Shall strictly guard thee; yet I'll have thine oath.
[Seizing her arm, and drawing her towards altar in the oratory.
Swear at that altar—by thy soul's weal, swear—
Never by craft, nor flight, nor force, to wed
With Oscar of Mackane. As thou dost ask
Heaven's judgment on thee, swear it!

Lil.
Swear to what?
That I forswear myself! Thou hast seen how love
Could humble me: now know that love can scorn
As well as tremble. At thy bidding swear
To renounce Oscar! Hadst thou power to hold
My soul in torment, save I took that oath,
I would not take it. I would dwell in bale
And keep my truth. Off! [Shaking off his grasp.]
Is it at the altar—
Life's holiest place—thou ask'st me to disown
Life's holiest good? I will not; I invoke
A Power Divine to shield me. If it hear,
Thou still art baffled. If it hear me not,
Its altar is a spot where I may die
A victim; where I will not stand a perjurer!
I refuse; do thy worst.

Mur.
[Drawing his dagger.]
Thou hast sealed thy doom.

Lil.
Then strike; if thou can'st slay a girl—if thou,
Perchance, a father, canst smite down a child.

Mur.
A father! By that word thou shutt'st out mercy.
In me see Murdoch, chief of Clan Mackane,
The father of a son thy kin have butchered!

Lil.
Hold, hold! That son I snatched from death. He lives.

Mur.
Lives! Where?

Lil.
Beneath this roof; alas! he's fled.

Mur.
Fled! To preserve thy life, thou coin'st a lie.
Summon him; bid him burst the grave and stand
Before me, or thou diest!

[Raising the dagger.
Lil.
[Struggling with his uplifted arm.]
He lives! I swear it.
Is there no hope? [Her eye falls on the panel door, which is seen opening.]
Ha! see, it slides—it slides!
The panel slides!

Mur.
[Again raising dagger.]
Where is my son, my Kenelm?

Kenelm enters through panel, which he closes. He no longer wears his blue scarf, but, as in Act I., the Mackane plaid and the holly badge in his cap or bonnet.
Ken.
Lilian!

Lil.
Kenelm!
[To Murdoch.
There, there, behold him!

[The cloud passes, and it is again moonlight, which falls full on Lilian's face.
Mur.
Heaven! 'twas true.
He lives, he lives!

[Extending his arms to Kenelm.
Ken.
[Rushing into Murdoch's arms.]
Father!

Mur.
[Sobbing, and wildly embracing him.]
My boy, my boy!
[After a pause.
Who saved thy life?

Ken.
There stands she—Lilian!

Mur.
Then thou hast snatched me from the heaviest guilt
That e'er weighed down a soul. [Throwing himself at Lilian's feet in supplication.]
Oh, pardon, pardon!

[Lilian gives him her hand, which he passionately kisses.
Enter Sir Oscar, bursting open door at back. His squire, page, and retinue are seen waiting without.
Sir O.
[Aside.]
'Tis as I guessed. [Slowly to Murdoch.]
Why art thou here?

Mur.
[Rising slowly.]
But now
My hand was on her life—

Sir O.
Who saved thy boy!
I met him flying from these walls. I stayed him,
And learned his story. Having missed you from us,
Suspicion flashed on me of your intent.
I, riding with my squire and page, my clansmen
At some short distance following, straight enjoined
The lad by shorter paths to speed on hither.
He came in time; he stayed your blow. We're brothers;
But had that blow been struck, thy life or mine
Had issued on our swords!

Mur.
[Repressing his tears.]
Oscar, these tears
Of contrite joy have cleansed my brain from madness.
If I may yet atone, I thus would strive.
[To Lilian.]
The father, thankful for his son, forgets
Macronald's child, and humbly sues to thee
For sister's love. [To Oscar, joining his hand with Lilian's.]
She's thine.

Sir O.
[To Murdoch.]
In bonds thrice blest,
Since thou hast knit them. [To Lilian.]
Through thy life, dear love,
Such joy flow ever as now swells my breast!

[Sir Oscar and Lilian embrace.
Ken.
[Plucking at Lilian's dress.]
Lilian, 'tis as I said. He's come back wounded.
Cure not his hurt this time; shut close the cage.

Lil.
[To him fondly.]
Though thou dost merit chiding, I'll not chide.

Enter Roderick and Margery by side door, the latter in riding-dress, followed by two retainers of the Macronald bearing torches.
Rod.
All, lady, is prepared: your horses wait.

Lil.
[To Kenelm.]
Thou hast fulfilled the omen. As the phantom
That threatened Lilian at thy coming fled,
So now Death flies before thee. Thou hast saved
Her who saved thee. 'Tis life for life. Thou wear'st
Thy father's badge and tartan!

Ken.
These I wore
When first made captive; flying, bore them hence;
At distance from the castle I cast off
My bonnet and my scarf, and re-assumed
The ensigns of Mackane.

Mur.
'Tis real—no dream;
My Kenelm speaks!

[Embracing him.
Rod.
Kenelm! a weight of ice
Melts from my heart; yet whose the arm that clasps thee?
Murdoch's our foe!

Lil.
Our foe no more. This hour
Macronald and Mackane together league
For their own rights and Scotland's. Faithful friend,
Who in thy time hast seen such bloody feuds
Of our fierce races, thou hast lived to see
Their union—hate the tale of what has been,
And peace the truth that is. Thy blessing now!

[She bends her head. Roderick reverently places his hand on it, as in benediction. At a sign from Sir Oscar, enter his squire, page, and several attendants. Torch-bearers turn towards door, and prepare to marshal the rest.