University of Virginia Library

SCENE I.

—A ROOM IN SIR GEORGE HALLERTON'S TOWN HOUSE.
Sir George Hallerton and Laura.
SIR GEORGE
(who embraces Laura as she kneels by his chair).
My more than sister! How shall I requite thee—
Snatched by thy rare devotion from disgrace?
My life—not words—must thank thee!

LAURA.
I have found
Again the generous strength whose visage care
Awhile obscured, the brother of my youth!

SIR GEORGE.
Thy rescued brother.

LAURA.
To the noble heart,
Which at my suit enlarged thee—not to me
Thy tribute pay. I could but tell thy strait,
Implore his aid, and frankly cry—thus do,
To save the brother of a maid who much
Hath trifled with thy peace, in wantonness
Feigning an unfelt love! Whereat at once,
His nature melted in a sudden gush,
He bathed my hands with his consenting tears
As if in asking, I had given a boon;
Nor knew I that this gracious succour came
From means so narrowed by that past excess
To which his misery drove him. (Enter Temple plainly attired.)
He is here.
So early!

SIR GEORGE.
Friend, preserver! Oh, how well
Thou wear'st this princely sadness. Righteous Heaven,
Prosper the just man's cause!

TEMPLE.
Amen. Rest with you
The morning's freshness, madam!

SIR GEORGE.
Ere 'tis spent,
We must from hence. I'll bid prepare.

[He goes out.
LAURA.
Is't far
You ride to-day?

TEMPLE.
The journey's brief; but urgent.

LAURA.
Heaven have you in its keeping! In these tears
Read blessings for the brother you have saved.
Care and privation for his sake you bear—

TEMPLE.
Hush! To cause happiness—is happiness.
I'm thanked. And now? Speak—you divine my thought.

LAURA.
To-day she bids me farewell; nay, here's one
Precedes her with report.
(Enter Walter.)
What tidings, Walter?
How bears she up?

WALTER.
Too well. Though Folly jests, and envy smiles,
And Friendship leaned on—fails her, yet her heart,
This cruel siege is laid to—sounds without
No note of suffering.

LAURA.
Fain, would I hope
From her pure conscience she draws peace?

WALTER.
Alas!
Our peace takes rise in conscience, but round love
And reverence of our kind twines tendril-wise;
These rudely wrenched away, its branch forlorn
Trails earth though never taint hath touched its root!

LAURA.
Too true. I cannot speak of this and keep
The strength I need. Haste, gentle friend! Conduct
This injured patience hither. Bring her straight.—
Your glance surprised would question of my guest.
Let that name sleep till your return, beseech you!
(In a lower voice apart to Walter. He goes out.)
Devoted heart! That Florence should reject
The solace of such love!

TEMPLE.
His love!—Repulsed?

LAURA.
She'd have the cloud of her imputed guilt
Rest on herself alone, and fears to taint
A pure repute by linking it with hers.

TEMPLE.
Peace, stifling heart; rejoice—thou may'st aspire!
(Aside.)
And the sole bar is this?

LAURA.
Her name redeemed,
She's free to yield her heart.

TEMPLE.
She shall be free,
Or I not live.

LAURA.
Then must thou evidence
To all, her innocence—“unwind the web
“Of meaning looks construed by rancorous hearts,
“Of harmless looks rehearsed in guilty tones,
“Of accidents that when converged around
“A central malice seem intents, of hints
“All substance when they strike, alas, all shade
“When we'd repel!” From that safe boaster,
Thornton—
How win or force confession?

TEMPLE.
Will and faith
Do much in any war. Till next we meet
Trust in them. 'Tis thy brother's step; he seeks me.

LAURA.
You cause the trust you counsel.

[She goes out.
TEMPLE.
He shall wed her.
Oh, sacrifice, how thou dost strengthen souls!
(Enter Sir George.)
How! overcast?

SIR GEORGE.
Is not my friend in peril?
My true, proved friend?

TEMPLE.
Discern'st thou in my look
Aught that's akin to peril?

SIR GEORGE.
There I read
Alone thy quarrel's justice—

TEMPLE.
And event.

[They go out.