 | The Daughter |  |
ACT III.
SCENE I.
—The inside of a Hut.Robert discovered pacing to and fro.
Rob.
A murderer!—What—I, that sicken at
The sight of blood, to do the deed of blood!
A murderer!—and with a hand as free
From blood as an infant's!—To be tried for it!
Condemn'd, perhaps, and executed!—I!—
That never did it!—Then my branded name,
That don't deserve the brand—and, worse than all,
To leave it to my child—my Marian!
My fair young girl!—good!—good!—whom Heaven sent
To save her father; but he would not heed her—
Turn'd a deaf ear unto an angel's lips,
To listen to that devil, the greed of pelf!
That was my crime, indeed—but only that.
Some one has circumvented me, but who?
Black Norris? Him or Wolf I sore suspect—
But what's suspicion only?—Not a thread
To bind a man with!
420
Nor.
Robert!
Rob.
Is it you,
Black Norris?
Nor.
Yes, 'tis I—Black Norris, as
You call me—come to cheer you.
Rob.
Well, Black Norris?
Nor.
I don't believe you did that murder.
Rob.
No?
Nor.
Some one has got the better of you—laid
A trap for you, and caught you—who—Heaven knows!
I say, I don't believe you guilty, but
Appearances are all against you—caught
Stripping the body, with the gold in your hand,
And your knife sticking in the dead man's breast!—
Rob.
Who stuck it there?
Nor.
Why, how should I tell?
Rob.
[Catching hold of Norris.]
Nay,
Who stuck it there?
Nor.
Not I,
Nor any one I know!—Take off thy hands,
Old man!—I did not come to wrestle with thee;
Wish'd I a game like that, I'd tackle to
With tougher sinews!—For another end
I came—to tell thee 'tis my turn to watch,
And hast thou goods to run, the coast is clear—
Now, grip me by the throat.
Rob.
Forgive me, Norris.
Nor.
Forgive thee!—Fiddlesticks!—Offend me first,
Then ask me to forgive thee. Here is gold
For that they took away from thee.—Away!
Make straight for the east coast!—Take shipping there,
And where thou settlest, advertise me!—Go!—
Rob.
[Going, stops short.]
My child! I had forgot her—Seek her! Seek
And bring her to me! I can't fly from death
Without my child!—I can't forsake my child!
Nor.
Forsake thy child!—A stranger, now, to her
Availeth more than thou. What are the dead
Unto the living?—Nothing!—Not the worth
Of a wheaten straw—That helps to make a light!
You can make nothing of the dead!—If you thirst—
Hunger—go naked—suffer anything;
You may for them! There's help in a live mouse
More than a dead man!—and what else art thou?
Accused of that, the man that doeth which
The law condemns to die. Escape the law—
And then talk of thy Marian.
Rob.
No more;
Thou madden'st me!
Nor.
I tell thee what thou know'st
421
I've no desire to see thee die the death!
Who meets it bravest, but puts on a mask
Which only proves the agony 'twould hide,
When at the hangman's touch, the sweat-drop starts
On the bold brow, so seeming calm; and the blood
Flies to the heart, and leaves the valiant cheek,
That would be thought to smile, without a drop
To vouch for it!
Rob.
Thou harrow'st me, good Norris.
Nor.
Yet what I tell, thou know'st! What must it be,
When a reprieve, at the last point, has kill'd!
I knew a man who narrowly escaped.
To think of what he told me, even now
Makes me breathe thick, and from my crown to my sole
Sets my flesh tingling; and all o'er my skin
Spreads the chill, clammy, heavy dew of death!—
What at the sight of the huge, living mass
Of human faces, all upturn'd, he felt
As would a living man, suppose he lay
Beside a corpse—for such, he said, he seem'd
To be unto himself. How he began to freeze,
To freeze at the heat of the sun, with thought of the grave! How life
Stared on him, yea, from lifeless things around him!
Fields, houses, walls, stones—yea, the grisly frame
He stood on, his last footing-place in the world!
And he living a spectacle of death!
The process then—
Rob.
Leave off!—I choke!—I fly!—
The door is fast!
Nor.
Thy fear hath shot the bolt!—
You see 'tis open!
Rob.
[Taking his handkerchief from his neck.]
Give my Marian this,
And be a friend to her!
Nor.
I will.
Rob.
My child!
Nor.
Soon as the seas are cross'd, what hinders her
Take ship, and follow thee?
Rob.
Thou'lt see to that?
Nor.
I will.
Rob.
My blessing on thee, Norris!
Nor.
Nay!—
Rob.
Thou'rt the preserver of my life—and all
That makes it life to me! As thou to me
Art kind, may Heaven prove kind to thee! Thy face
Why dost thou turn away?
Nor.
I do not like
That any see me weep!—I had as lief
Be hang'd as thank'd! My watch is nearly spent,
A quarter of an hour; and 'tis the span
422
Why dost thou stand bewilder'd thus? Look, Robert!
There is the door!—A minute more 'tis lock'd!
Choose on which side on't thou wilt then be found.
Rob.
I take thy proffer—Norris!
Nor.
If thou breathest
Another word of thanks!—
Rob.
I won't!—You'll not
Forget my child?—You'll be a father to her?
Swear thou wilt be a father to my child!
Nor.
You note my hand is on the key!
Rob.
Don't turn it!
I am gone!—I fly!—My Marian!—My Marian!
[Rushes out.
Nor.
My Marian!—An open window. Ay!
Now a fast door. Who's there?
Wolf
[outside].
'Tis I.
Nor.
What, Wolf?
Enter Wolf.
Come in! He's off!—he's fled!—Art sorry, man?
I'm not much prone to pity; yet had as lief
A man that's innocent should escape as die.
Wolf.
That's innocent!
Nor.
Thou fool! Hast known me still
Thy master in all kinds of craftiness,
Could buy and sell thee, and believest thou yet
He murder'd him?
Wolf.
Who did it then?
Nor.
By my troth,
Thou hast no stomach for a deed of blood!
Thy own seems spill'd at only thought of one!
'Sdeath! Is't a frost, man, that thy cheek's so white,
And that thou shiver'st so? “Who did it then?”
No one! There's fire to warm thee! Be thyself!
Wolf.
The knife was taken from his breast.
Nor.
It was!—
What ails thy teeth to make them chatter so?
Want'st meat, or drink, or sleep, or what? “The knife
Was taken from his breast!” What then? The knife
Found nothing there it could not find within
A six weeks' buried corpse! Furies and death!
Believest me not?—or takest me for a ghost,
Still gazing on me thus, with mouth agape?
Listen! Whilst he was gone to fetch his gear,
Which he had left behind him on the reef,
Soon as it served to draw the body in,
I, who was all along upon the watch,
Stole to the body, thereupon to leave
Some mark of violence,—such as prates of hands,
Found the wreck'd seaman, dead. [Wolf shakes his head.]
I tell thee, dead!
423
To serve my purpose—lo! my hand by chance
Lit on his knife, he had dropp'd—on Robert's knife!—
When didst thou get the ague? What a fit!—
I say by chance I lit on Robert's knife,
For which this hand of mine—not Robert's, as
Thou thought'st—Thou dog-fish! How I laugh at thee!—
Gave it the sheath wherein thou saw'st it sticking.
Why, thou wilt shake thee out of joint! What heeds
A dead man's breast a knife, more than a pincushion
A pin!
Wolf.
[Stammering.]
The body!
Nor.
What of it?
Is it tied to thee? Art in the death-grip of
The drownéd man? I would not think thee, Wolf,
A chicken heart, yet never saw I man
That look'd more like a coward! Couldst thou see
Thyself and look at me! What of the body?
Did it rise up, and walk, or run, or caper,
Or offer thee a hand to shake, or talk,
Or troll a song to thee? What did the body
To make thee marvel like a man demented?
Tell me, that I may play the madman too!
Wolf.
Pray Heaven thou go'st not mad in earnest!
Nor.
Man!
Wolf!—Have a care!—Don't take me for a child,
Because thyself art one! Thou wouldst not say
That life was in the body?—It was warm
About the heart! [Aside.]
—Sit down, good Wolf, sit down;
Recover thee a little. Tell thy tale
Thy own way. For I see there's something—come—
Go on—the body?
Wolf.
I return'd to it
When thou and all the rest were gone, to search
If yet a coin or two remain'd. 'Twas bleeding!
I thought it strange, for not a drop I saw,
Follow'd, when out the knife I drew; and I fancied
Life must be in it still—and so it was!
I felt the heart beat slow and dull—mine own
Methought would stop!
Nor.
Kept the blood flowing still?
Wolf.
It did—more free; and as it flow'd, the heart
Began more free to beat.
Nor.
It had been wrong
To stop the blood.
Wolf.
I didn't!—I only watch'd
The heart, the beat of which grew stronger still,
Until methought the chest began to heave;
And so it did!—and, presently, I heard
A gurgling in the throat of the shipwreck'd man,
And I began to freeze, expecting now
To hear the body speak.
424
Did it?
Wolf.
Almost!
A sound between a murmur and a moan.
Nor.
Was it repeated?
Wolf.
Yes; but very faint.
Nor.
Any more?
Wolf.
Yes; fainter though, at every time;
And now the heart beat faint, and presently
Came a slight shivering o'er the body—then
A sigh—and nothing more—the soul had fled!
Nor.
I thought 'twas over warm about the heart!
Wolf.
O Norris, say it not!
Nor.
What did I say?
Wolf.
You thought 'twas over warm about the heart.
Nor.
Well!—Of what value is a spark of life,
More than a spark of any other thing?
Wolf.
The body was thy father's!
Nor.
Devil!—Imp
Of Hell! Unsay it, or thou diest, with
A lie in thy throat!
Wolf.
Were it my last breath, Norris,
I speak the truth!
Nor.
Who else has heard it from thee?
Wolf.
No one!
Nor.
I am mad!—No wonder if I am!
Wretch, hadst thou stopp'd the old man's blood—
Wolf.
He had lived!
I thought thy interest 'twas, that he should die.
I knew not then it was thy father.
Nor.
Devil!
Why had I anything to say to thee!
And where's the body now?
Wolf.
I left it where
I found it.
Nor.
Fool!—Thou shouldst have carried it
To the cliff, and cast it straight into the sea,
Where ne'er the sand is dry.
Wolf.
Would not the sea
Have thrown it up again?
Nor.
The sea?—The earth,
Though it were buried in't ten fathom deep,
Would throw it up again!—Nothing can make
A grave that's deep enough to keep it!—Cast
A mountain on't, 'twould heave it off!—They'll know it
When it is brought before the coroner!
Wolf.
I have taken care of that.
Nor.
Mangled the features?
Wolf.
Yes!
Nor.
Savage!—
Wolf.
For thy sake I did it!
Nor.
True!
Right!—You did very right—and after all
425
Where wouldst thou be?
Wolf.
Why, anywhere but here!
Nor.
Wilt cross the sea?—Thou hadst a hand, thou knowest,
In the murder—Thou didst finish it—Thou lett'st
The old man die—he were not murder'd, else—
Wilt cross the sea?—I'll give thee gold enough
To pay thy passage wheresoe'er thou'lt go,
And set thee down there, as a man,—and more,
If more thou want'st—Wilt cross the sea?
Wolf.
I will.
Nor.
When wilt thou start?—To-morrow?
Wolf.
Yes.
Nor.
At dawn?
Wolf.
At dawn!—
Nor.
That's good!—That's excellent!—I'm much
Beholden to thee, Wolf—Thou'rt a true friend—
Go far—Go very far!—The wider berth
The better! Stop not at a thousand miles—
Or two—or three!—Look, Wolf! I have a jar
Buried in the garden, full of treasure—Take it,
And luck go with you!—You will start to-morrow?
At dawn?—Take passage to a distant land,
Will you not!—Thank you! Thank you, Wolf! I'll ne'er
Forget you!—never cease to be your friend!
[They go out.
SCENE II.
—The inside of Robert's Cottage.Enter Marian.
Mari.
My father's house! O would it were, indeed,
My father's house, as I knew it!—once!
I were content to be a wrecker's child!
But now I have a feeling as I were
The loathing of the roof that gave me birth!
The threshold, which from childhood, out and in
I have pass'd—and O how oft in blithest mood!—
Seem'd as it said to me I had no right
To cross it now—my room would shut me out!
The very bed I've slept in every night
For eighteen years, appear'd to say to me,
“Lie on the floor!”—and when in agony
I threw myself upon the floor, I shrank,
As that would spurn me too, and cry to me,
“Thou art the daughter of a murderer!”—
Me, that when household use required the life
Of a poor brainless bird, would run a mile
To get some other hand to take it, nor
Could even then look on!—But where is nature?
She has been scared away, but now returns.
O my poor father!—O my luckless father!
426
Never more break?—I only wait for it
To seek for him, and comfort him, and tell him
That I am still his child—his Marian!
Rob.
[Rushing in.]
My Marian!—What! Hold'st thou back from me?
Mari.
No.
Rob.
But thou dost!
Mari.
No!—No!—See there—I have thrown
My arms around thy neck!
Rob.
Yes!—but you turn
Your head away!
Mari.
Is't turn'd away now?
Rob.
No!
But where's the kiss, you never met me but
You printed on my cheek?—
Mari.
There!
Rob.
Humph!—I fear
I have thrown away both time and risk—I came
To seek my daughter—but she is not here!—
She has gone from me!—deserted me!—I have lost her!
Mari.
No!—No!—
Rob.
You know her?—fetch me her!—make haste!
Mari.
She's here!
Rob.
She's not!—She's anywhere but here!
And I am here at peril of my life,
To see her for a minute ere I go
Perhaps for ever from her.
Mari.
Oh! my father!
I am indeed thy child!—Thy Marian!
Rob.
These tears are something like her—I begin
To think that thou'rt my child—Thou art my child!
Thou hast heard it?
Mari.
Yes!
Rob.
What ponderous thing is “Yes,”
To take a sigh like that to heave it off?
Mari.
Thou art in danger.
Rob.
Great!—To-morrow, may be,
A dungeon! there, most certainly the dock!—
There, in all likelihood, the gibbet! but
I have a chance—that chance is now!—'Tis little!
And, every moment that I lose, grows less!
But I'm content it should go all!—ay, all!
If I have lost one fraction of my child
That's due to me—go all—and let it go!
Mari.
I am all thy own—Thy own hand not thy own
More than thy Marian!—Thou'rt in flight!—We'll fly
Together!
Rob.
[Re-assured.]
No, but thou shalt follow me,
And speedily!—Think kindly of Black Norris!—
He set me free—He'll be a friend to thee—
He furnish'd me with means of flight.
427
With means?
[Marian goes out, and returns with a little purse.
Here, father, here!
Rob.
Part of thy little store?
Mari.
The rest 's at sea. To have it with me, now,
Though it might grow to millions where 'tis gone,
I'd miss the mighty gain!
Rob.
And thou, my child?—
Mari.
I have hands!—There's Heaven!—O father!
Rob.
Dost thou think
Thy father guilty?
Mari.
I think nothing, now;
Except that thou'rt in danger.
Rob.
Marian,
I no more did the deed—
Mari.
They will be here,
And then thou art lost!
Rob.
Thou dost not think me guilty?
Mari.
What matter what thy Marian thinks, when death
Pursues thee and thou lingerest here, and not
One moment am I certain but the next
It may o'ertake thee—here!—in thy own house!
That's now no shelter for thee—here!—before
Thy Marian's eyes, that cannot help thee!—Fly!
Thy life perhaps may pay for the next breath
Thou drawest here!—The thought distracts me!—Fly!
Rob.
It cannot be thou think'st me guilty?
Mari.
Fly!
Terror will take away my senses—Fly!
Rob.
I do begin to doubt thou think'st me guilty?
Mari.
O father, fly!
Rob.
I am innocent!
Mari.
'Tis well!
Rob.
It is not well—I am innocent! I'll swear it!
Mari.
Thou need'st not, father—Don't!—Fly!—Fly!—
Rob.
By—
[Raising his hand towards heaven.
Mari.
Stop!
[Preventing him.
Rob.
Thou think'st me guilty!—Spare thy kindness—There,
Perish thy coin! I will not use it!—fly!
Do anything to save my life!—If it goes,
It may go!—Here I'll sit!—E'en here!—Ay here!—
Here in the cottage thou wast born in, nursed,
Brought up in—till thou'rt eighteen years, and now
Tell'st thine own father he's a murderer!
Here I'll wait for them—Let them come and take me!
Take me before thine eyes!—imprison me!
Try me, and hang me! I'll not turn my hand
To save my life! Since my own child, that knows me,
Believes me guilty. I am guilty!—Yes!
Let all the world beside believe me so.
Amb.
[without].
What hoa!
Rob.
They come!
428
Fly by the other door!
[Knocking at that door.
Rob.
You hear? It is beset!
Mari.
Hide somewhere!
Rob.
Where?
They'll search the house!—Were there a hundred doors
And all were free—were there a cavern, where
No foot could follow me—I would sit here
And let them take me!
Amb.
Robert!
Rob.
[Opens the door.]
Here!—Come in!
[Ambrose and others enter.
Mari.
For mercy's sake!—
Rob.
For no sake!—Here I am:
Take me!
Mari.
My father!
Rob.
I am guilty!
Mari.
Nay!—
Rob.
She says I am—take me away!
Mari.
O! stay!
Don't take him yet!—Good friends!—You are neighbours!—Don't!
Don't take away my father!—Leave him with me!—
Pray—Pray don't take him!
Rob.
I am guilty—Take me!
I am guilty!—Ask my child—my Marian!
Mari.
Don't!—Don't!—Stay! Mercy! Mercy!—O my father!
[They go out.
END OF ACT III.
| The Daughter | |