 | A Life's Ransom |  |
SCENE III.
Grounds in front of Revesdale Castle.Enter Lord Revesdale, followed by Bancroft.
Reves.
Be it so, sir; it is your cousin's right,
His fair undoubted right, to sell my lands.
So must my father's heavy debt be cancelled.
Ban.
My kinsman, so he writes me, needs large sums
For present uses, so the lands must go.
Yet, though I've not much cause to bear you love,
It frets me that your ancient, proud domain
Should pass to strangers.
Reves.
All that's needful else
You will see done.
Ban.
Though if young Ringwood buy it,
'Twill scarcely fall to strangers.
Reves.
Ringwood buy it!
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Has he not broken with you upon this?
Reves.
Never!
Ban.
He might have thought, perhaps, the old Revesdale blood
Would fire at such succession—the brewer's grandson!
Reves.
[With an effort.]
And my friend, sir! He told you his intent?
Ban.
He told my agent. [Jestingly.]
'Tis a foolish thought,
But yet, had proof confirmed the general rumour
Of Ringwood's traitorous aid to the Duke of Monmouth,
He had found a different fate!
Reves.
[Regarding him keenly.]
There are such rumours?
Ban.
[Aside.]
He knows it! Proved, they'd check the aspiring pride
That vaults into your seat.
Reves.
Ay, sir; you've taught us
What the king's mercy is.
Ban.
[Aside.]
You taunt me, do you?
Even to my face? [With feigned merriment.]
You never surely thought
I meant the scaffold? Pshaw! the king's grown lenient.
Most noted traitors 'scape with fine or exile.
Reves.
Such converse, Master Bancroft, as affairs
Demand between us, I would give with patience
To you or any man. Beyond that point
You trespass on my leisure.
Ban.
[Aside.]
Ay, the bloodhound
Is not fit mate for a Revesdale!—As you will.
Again, I say, I bear you little love,
And proffer none. But I respect a house
As old as yours, and hate the parasite
That thrives upon a ruin! [Aside.]
Yes, he flinched!
I stung his ruling passion. Thanks to that,
And to my surly bluntness, which must tell
In time for honesty—I'll mould him yet!
[Bancroft goes out.
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Again he couples Arthur's name with treason!
I must be wary; a chance word or look
Might snare my friend. My friend! who covertly
Plots to be Lord of Revesdale! He'd not steal
So subtly on my track, see me driven forth
From my ancestral home, this native ground
Of my soul as well as body, and then kindle
His holiday taper in the silent halls
Where my torch is grey in ashes!
Enter Felicia, with Richard and Giles.
Fel.
Yes, good friends,
I'll bear your message. [Richard and Giles go out. Felicia advances to Revesdale.]
You're in thought?
Reves.
No, sister!
Fel.
Richard and Giles demand a boon.
Reves.
From me!
What have I left to grant?
Fel.
That where you go
They may go too. They are content for hire
To take what fortune sends; or, unhired, serve you
For your love, that never let them feed like hirelings.
Reves.
[Much moved.]
True friends! I thank and bless them. Age and sickness
Will chill these faithful hearts, and ruined Revesdale
Must let them perish aidless.
Fel.
None so perish
Who trust in Heaven, my brother!
Reves.
You say well,
And I'll not murmur. Though another week
Must see us strangers here—here, where our banner
Flung, like a sunward wing, its mighty shade
O'er a brood of heroes—still I'll think whom Heaven
Has left me in my exile—thee!
Fel.
My bother!
[He embraces her.
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And time shall teach me to endure, forget,
Ay, and hope too! There—I say hope already!
Enter Richard.
Rich.
A letter for your lordship. [Gives it.]
Would it bore
Some news to cheer him!
[He goes out.
Reves.
[Cheerfully.]
We've this comfort, sister,
Our poverty is proof against ill tidings.
[He opens and peruses the letter.
Ah, ah!
Fel.
You're moved!
Reves.
They'll cheat me and die out,
These words of light! O, like the tints of rainbows,
They build heaven's arch on storm, and, being as bright,
Perhaps may vanish like them!
Fel.
What is this?
Reves.
Such joy as almost dazzles me to doubt.
Redemption of our house and wealth, though wealth
I prize but for our house!
Fel.
Is this news sure?
Reves.
I trust so; you might make it sure. It comes
From our best and most tried friend—
Fel.
Dear, kind Lord Norville,
Who pressed your suit at Court?
Reves.
Yes, he has a claim,
He thinks, upon the minister who needs
His special service, and the price he asks
Is justice to his friend!
Fel.
To you! Oh, bless him!
Reves.
That's what he asks for. Bless him, for you can!
This flashed on me at times when you met in London.
Fel.
What flashed upon you, Basil?
Reves.
What he writes
So plainly here—forgive my joy's abruptness—
He loves you, and would wed you.
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Me!—Lord Norville!—
Impossible!
Reves.
Why so? My friend is noble
In heart, mien, birth—
Fel.
I know it!
Reves.
One for whom
You've oft avowed regard, which must, in time,
Ripen to love!
Fel.
[Aside.]
Although I promised silence,
I must reveal my troth to Arthur. Brother,
I cannot wed Lord Norville—
Reves.
Cannot! Pause;
Think what's at stake—the upholding of our line
In honour by his aid! They'll grant his wife—
He writes it—what they might refuse his friend.
Fel.
You talk not like yourself.
Reves.
Myself! Our race
Adjures thee through thy brother!
Fel.
Basil!
Reves.
[Pointing to the Castle.]
Look
On that grey pile, from base to parapet
A fane of glory!—Stone? 'Tis built of deeds,
Compact with hearts' blood; heroes trod its courts
Whose names are histories; voices from its halls
Swept o'er a realm like winds that wake a sea;
A tide of memory richer than the sun
Pours through each loophole, and its very dust
Sown with tradition—glory's fallen seed—
Stirs with the quickening future!
Fel.
Oh, beware!
Such pride tempts Heaven.
Reves.
Heaven made the vale—it sinks;
The peak—it soars. I tell thee, to my frame
Its vital flood's less dear than to my soul
The trust my fathers left. Felicia, think—
The Court against me, not a chance to rise
In war or council, doomed to sordid need
And banishment from hence—as, if you scorn
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Of enterprise or greatness?
Fel.
Brother, greatness
Is of the soul, not fortune. Emulate
The spirit of our sires, but leave to Heaven
The question of their fame.
Enter Bancroft.
Reves.
I ask my sister
For life, or what is dearer, and she deigns me
A homily for answer. [Turning from her, he perceives Bancroft.]
Here again?
[They converse apart from Felicia.
Ban.
My errand's brief. Young Ringwood asks my agent
For an inventory; will you grant it?
Reves.
How?
Ban.
A catalogue of all your movables,
Plate, pictures, suits of armour, family jewels—
No, jewels pass as heirlooms.
Reves.
How? You jest.
Ban.
'Tis natural;
Men like to know the worth of that they buy.
But he wrote in secret, and with emphasis
Forbade that you should know it.
Reves.
Wrote in secret!
Ban.
But as we could not take the inventory
As yet without your licence, I was bound
To let you hear.
Reves.
Such insult! Oh, my ears
Have played me false!
Ban.
Then trust your eyes, and read
His letter to my agent, who waits yonder.
Reves.
In his own hand!
Ban.
'Tis strange! I thought these plans
Bore on his contract for your sister.
Reves.
[Starting, and glancing rapidly at Felicia, who stands apart.]
Hush!
I must hear all!
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You can't be ignorant
Of his suit?
Reves.
His suit—to wed my sister! Such an aim
Had jarred upon my love when most in tune:
But now!—You bear him malice!
Ban.
I don't doat
Either on him or you; but I brook the proud
More easily than the false.
Reves.
[Aside.]
Why should I doubt
This man? Though fierce and violent, he wears
His nature frankly, shows his plain distaste
For me, nor stoops to counterfeit a smoothness,
As would dissemblers.
Ban.
You may think me bitter.
Well, I come of an old stock myself, and like not
Your treacherous upstarts. Let me ask you this:
Who, when you were dismissed from the militia,
Leaped to the vacant post, making your slight
His honour! Prudent friend! Who now by stealth,
Lest your pride wake and thwart him, seeks possession
Of your house and union with your blood, to gild
His base beginnings?
Reves.
Hold! I'll sift your story
But to disprove it. Hither! I'll return
Anon, Felicia. Hither, sir; unfold
This business as we walk.
[Revesdale and Bancroft go out.
Fel.
[Coming forward.]
O bitter strait!
I must be false to love—nay, worse—to conscience,
Or crush my brother's hopes. Alas that pride
Should blight a heart so rich! Most perilous
Is pride to noble natures. Other sins
Stand naked and repel; but pride doth filch
The garb of poetry, and the flawed idol
Shows like a god.
217
Arth.
See! 'tis herself—Felicia!
How still—how mute—how like a living dream
That's conscious of its bliss, and will not stir
Lest motion end it!
Mat.
Dream, forsooth! [Aside.]
He talks
Poetry like the laureate! Dream! Do dreams
Glow with a flush like hers, or do their steps
Come tinkling on men's hearts like hers on thine?
Arth.
[Embracing Felicia.]
My own!
Fel.
Arthur!
Mat.
Is she a dream, lad?
Arth.
How!
There's trouble in thine eye.
Fel.
I'm glad you're come.
Mat.
Not so am I. I'm tired, and want my dinner.
What's dinner to a lover? You that feed
On the dews of violets,—you sleep-walkers
In the realms of fancy, that can take your rest
With open eyes, should pity common folk
That have digestions, and like easy chairs.
Arth.
But where is Basil?
Mat.
Is our secret safe?
Is he yet i' the dark?
Fel.
My friend, my father!
Mat.
Well?
Speak, love!
Fel.
Untoward affairs have vexed my brother.
You'll treat him gently?
Mat.
Gently! Why, how else
But gently should I treat him? I bestow
My boy—than whom a nobler never blessed
A father's heart—upon him for a brother.
Methinks that's gentle.
Arth.
Look where comes my friend!
How rapt in meditation!
218
Mat.
[To Felicia.]
You'll not leave us?
Fel.
[Observing Revesdale closely.]
No, no; 'tis better I remain.
Mat.
[Laughing.]
Draw back;
He's in a trance; perhaps he solves a problem.
[They retire a few steps, unperceived by Revesdale.
Reves.
Woos her in secret, does he? Wastes no breath
To win my sanction, who should thank my luck
That my home and sister please him! Our alliance,
'Tis true, has been held priceless; but this broker
In decayed honours knows that it befits
The needy to be humble. Is't for thee,
Thou climber by the clefts of others' ruin,
My sister has forsworn her happiness,
Foiled my fresh hopes and balked my thirsting heart
Of the fount before it? Not so; my friend Norville
Stays at his seat in Hampshire. I'll set forth
This hour to see him, and so gain delay
For a wiser answer.
[Matthew, Arthur, and Felicia come forward.
Mat.
Save you, noble student!
Have you yet solved your riddle?
Reves.
Sir, you have it.
Arth.
I give you joy! Your hand.
Reves.
'Tis not for sale.
Arth.
For sale!
Mat.
Nay, nay! We're here
To join hands, not deny them. Faith, my lord,
You must clear that clouded brow. I would acquaint you
With my heiress and my new-found daughter!
Reves.
So,
Your daughter. [Aside.]
It goes smoothly!
Mat.
You're amazed.
'Twill crown your wonder when I say how long
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With her affianced husband there—ay, there!
[Pointing to Arthur and Felicia.
Go, boy, and bless them!
Reves.
Ingrate that I am,
I have no knee to thank you.
Arth.
You'll not mar
Our joy, else perfect? 'Twas but yesterday
I dared to hope—
Reves.
What you must hope no more.
[Restraining himself, and with formal courtesy.
Sir, for the honour you design our house
I thank you, and decline it.
Mat.
What! decline,
My boy! Adversity has turned his brain.
Decline my Arthur!
Arth.
Basil, pardon me.
Your sister's love was her own gift. I stand,
However humble, dignified in this—
That she has chosen me, and girt my life
With her bright zone of love. To yield her, then,
Must be a pang to me—a worse than pang,
A crime, to her. For her sake—
Reves.
[Ironically.]
For her sake!
Arth.
Yes, for her sake, my lord. I do not boast
A storied name. Perchance mine never waved
Embroidered on a flag, or rallied hosts
In the shock of battle. Courts may nothing heed it.
The hind at plough may hear it and plod on,
Nor check his careless whistle. Do you ask
My title, then, in this? 'Tis here—she loves me!
Spite of all want and accident, she loves me,
Finds love that answers hers, finds truth to lean on,
Finds sympathies that feed her root of joy,
And keep it verdant. If I give not these,
I have indeed no claim; but giving them,
My lot grows proud. I am something to myself
If aught to her. I'll not withdraw the faith
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I no more need it.”
Fel.
Never, never, Arthur,
Can she say that! O brother!
Mat.
Stand apart,
My boy, and let them speak.
[Arthur and Matthew retire a few steps.
Reves.
And so you'll blight
My future and your own for a light mood
That dates from yesterday—a whim, a nothing!
Fel.
A nothing! All new life, that struck its fibres
Deep down before it budded! Nothing! Basil,
Earth has a thousand destinies for man;
For us, one—love! Man's massive trunk puts forth
Unnumbered branches; lop them, they renew;
But we who cling around him, severed thence,
Are prostrate once for ever.
Reves.
Credulous girl,
Be warned! What Ringwood seeks in this alliance
Is his advancement, not your love. For this,
Unknown to me, he lured you step by step.
Fel.
Your frenzy speaks!
Reves.
For this, by stealth he traffics
For our domain, as if to seize our eyry
Made him the eagle—does this, and commands
That the knowledge be kept from me!
Fel.
Question him;
He'll explain all.
Reves.
[Ironically.]
To be sure he will! And now,
To save you and those hopes he would eclipse,
Listen! I'm bound for a sudden journey. Ere
I go, decide—a suitor or a brother?
Fel.
[Seizing his hand.]
You cannot mean—
Reves.
Decide at once—renounce him!
Fel.
He has loved me, and I cannot; I have pledged
My love to him, and will not; 'tis your wish
To cast me off, not mine to lose you, brother.
I must be true—I wed him!
[She turns to Arthur and Matthew, who advance.
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Free my hand!
[To Arthur.]
Sir, till your gold gives right to unlock my gates,
You pass them not again. [To Felicia.]
Release me!
Fel.
[Clinging to him.]
Brother!
Reves.
When next we meet, I see thee Norville's wife,
His wife affianced, or a stranger—strange
Thenceforth to sight, thought, love; thy name a sound,
Thy place a void, thy very memory dead!
[He breaks away from Felicia, and rushes out.
Fel.
Bear witness, heart, I had no choice but this!
[She sinks into Arthur's arms.
| A Life's Ransom | |