University of Virginia Library

Scene, the edge of the Moor.
Marmaduke and Eldred enter from opposite sides.
Mar.
(raising his eyes and perceiving Eldred).
In any corner of this savage Waste,
Have you, good Peasant, seen a blind old Man?

Eld.
I heard—

Mar.
You heard him, where? when heard him?

Eld.
As you know,
The first hours of last night were rough with storm:
I had been out in search of a stray heifer;
Returning late, I heard a moaning sound;
Then, thinking that my fancy had deceived me,
I hurried on, when straight a second moan,
A human voice distinct, struck on my ear.
So guided, distant a few steps, I found
An aged Man, and such as you described.

Mar.
You heard!—he called you to him? Of all men
The best and kindest!—but where is he? guide me,
That I may see him.

Eld.
On a ridge of rocks
A lonesome Chapel stands, deserted now:
The bell is left, which no one dares remove;
And, when the stormy wind blows o'er the peak,
It rings, as if a human hand were there
To pull the cord. I guess he must have heard it;
And it had led him towards the precipice,
To climb up to the spot whence the sound came;
But he had failed through weakness. From his hand
His staff had dropped, and close upon the brink
Of a small pool of water he was laid,
As if he had stooped to drink, and so remained
Without the strength to rise.

Mar.
Well, well, he lives,
And all is safe: what said he?

Eld.
But few words:
He only spake to me of a dear Daughter,
Who, so he feared, would never see him more;
And of a Stranger to him, One by whom
He had been sore misused; but he forgave
The wrong and the wrong-doer. You are troubled—
Perhaps you are his son?

Mar.
The All-seeing knows,
I did not think he had a living Child.—
But whither did you carry him?

Eld.
He was torn,
His head was bruised, and there was blood about him—

Mar.
That was no work of mine.

Eld.
Nor was it mine.

Mar.
But had he strength to walk? I could have borne him
A thousand miles.

Eld.
I am in poverty,
And know how busy are the tongues of men;
My heart was willing, Sir, but I am one
Whose good deeds will not stand by their own light;
And, though it smote me more than words can tell,
I left him.

Mar.
I believe that there are phantoms,
That in the shape of man do cross our path
On evil instigation, to make sport
Of our distress—and thou art one of them!
But things substantial have so pressed on me—

Eld.
My wife and children came into my mind.

Mar.
Oh Monster! Monster! there are three of us,
And we shall howl together.
[After a pause and in a feeble voice.
I am deserted
At my worst need, my crimes have in a net
(Pointing to Eldred)
Entangled this poor man.—Where was it? where?

[Dragging him along.
Eld.
'Tis needless; spare your violence. His Daughter—

Mar.
Ay, in the word a thousand scorpions lodge:
This old man had a Daughter.

Eld.
To the spot
I hurried back with her.—Oh save me, Sir,
From such a journey!—there was a black tree,
A single tree; she thought it was her Father.—
Oh Sir, I would not see that hour again
For twenty lives. The daylight dawned, and now—
Nay; hear my tale, 'tis fit that you should hear it—
As we approached, a solitary crow
Rose from the spot;—the Daughter clapped her hands,
And then I heard a shriek so terrible
[Marmaduke shrinks back.
The startled bird quivered upon the wing.

Mar.
Dead, dead!—

Eld.
(after a pause).
A dismal matter, Sir, for me,
And seems the like for you; if 'tis your wish,
I'll lead you to his Daughter; but 'twere best
That she should be prepared; I'll go before.

Mar.
There will be need of preparation.

[Eldred goes off.
Elea.
(enters).
Master!
Your limbs sink under you, shall I support you?

Mar.
(taking her arm).
Woman, I've lent my body to the service
Which now thou tak'st upon thee. God forbid
That thou shouldst ever meet a like occasion
With such a purpose in thine heart as mine was.

Elea.
Oh, why have I to do with things like these?

[Exeunt.