University of Virginia Library

ACT IV.

Scene I.—

Entrance Hall in Robert Murdock's Place, near Festigniog. A billiard table at the side, to the left of the spectator. An old carved oak cupboard or armoury to the right. Deeply embrasured window at the back of the stage, with a view of distant mountains and the drive winding through the grounds. A round table with books and papers.
Robert Murdock, Carteret, Cross, and Payne.
PAYNE.
Seventy to ninety-two,—the game's a hundred.
Now, Murdock, come; the balls are waiting you;
There's eight to make.

ROBERT MURDOCK.
I see my way to make it;
If at a stroke, I'll count it for an omen.

CROSS.
Of what?

ROBERT MURDOCK.
[Taking deliberate aim.]
Of luck in fishing,—nothing more;
That lovely trout I've angled for so long,
If by a screw I touch the white ball there,
I'll land that trout to-morrow.

CARTERET.
Come, I say;
Your plots are too long hatching.

PAYNE.
Done, by Jove!

CROSS.
A pretty stroke,—a cannon off the red,
And both balls pocketed.

ROBERT MURDOCK.
The game is mine,
And so shall be the trout. You're near the bell,
Just touch it, will you?

[Carteret rings the bell.
PAYNE.
Now, for my revenge;
Come, Murdock, break the balls.

ROBERT MURDOCK.
No, not to-night:
I am content with fortune, and will rest
At one with her. Success is inspiration.

CROSS.
What mischief would you have it help you to?

ROBERT MURDOCK.
The capture of the trout I told you of.
Enter Servant, in answer to bell.
Tell Mrs. Price I want to speak with her.

PAYNE.
What, Hecate, your one-eyed housekeeper?

CARTERET.
One eye was one too many in her head
When with that one the purblind beldame chose
A swaggering young scamp to be her husband,
Who'll squeeze the money out of her for drink,
And leave her pocket shrunken as her skin.

CROSS.
Hush! here she comes.

PAYNE.
We'll leave you to your tryst.
[Exeunt Carteret, Cross, and Payne.
Enter Mrs. Price.

ROBERT MURDOCK.
Have you prepared the chamber for the lady

MRS. PRICE.
Aye, aye!

ROBERT MURDOCK.
The painted chamber?

MRS. PRICE.
Yes; your own.

ROBERT MURDOCK.
It is the best; I wish to do her honour.

MRS. PRICE.
Well, honour or dishonour, Sir, 'tis ready.

ROBERT MURDOCK.
Good; and you've moved me to the room above?

MRS. PRICE.
Your man has moved your clothes there; 'tis a job
Not suited to my time of life. I've got
A mort o' twinges. What with the rheumatics
And—

ROBERT MURDOCK.
You would say your conscience. Now, look here;
I tell you, if that stings, it stings for nothing.
You're welcome to mount guard beside her door.
This lady seeks her brother at Festigniog;
He is not there. To spare her further trouble,
I give her lodging in her own despite.
She must not know to whom she is beholden.
You can keep counsel. Speech would not be silver
To you; but silence, look you, would be golden.
If you still doubt me, and still feel those twinges,
Take this,-a sovereign cure. Ha! ha!

[Gives money.
MRS. PRICE.
You make me laugh, Sir, with your pleasant ways.

Re-enter Servant.
SERVANT.
[To Mrs. Price.]
Tom Price is here.

ROBERT MURDOCK.
Without the lady?

SERVANT.
Yes, Sir.
The lady's in the trap, Sir, at the gate. [To Mrs. Price.]

He wants to speak with you.

ROBERT MURDOCK.
Well, bring him in.
Enter Tom Price.
Where is the lady?

TOM PRICE.
In a swound almost.

ROBERT MURDOCK.
Where is she swooning?

TOM PRICE.
In the trap.

ROBERT MURDOCK.
Where's that?

TOM PRICE.
Fast in a rut, the near hind-wheel nigh off.
I loosed the pin, Sir, all as you gave orders.
But had you seen the face of her when first
I told her what had chanced, I'm bound your honour
Would let her go her ways, where'er they led to.
Her brother's sick, and wants her.

MRS. PRICE.
You've been drinking,
Or wouldn't talk that way. You'll smart for this.

ROBERT MURDOCK.
[Fills a glass, and gives it to Tom.]
[Aside.]
An angler should not shrink from touching slime.
Here, take that, on the top of all the rest.

MRS. PRICE.
You make him harmless, but my way was better.
I should ha' sobered him with fright, and used him
To finish up the job.

ROBERT MURDOCK.
Safe have, safe hold.
We're best to keep the babbler here, and send
Some stouter heart to fetch the lady in.
Go, Frost; and mind, we have no wheelwrights here;
This house is uninhabited, except
By you, and Tom, and Mrs. Price, who keep it;
Go, offer her its hospitality,
She'll take it, if you show her that her choice
Lies betwixt that and sleeping in the lane.
[Frost bows and exit.
Now, Carteret, those fellows must clear out;
Get them to go with you;—she's coming, man;
The smoking-room is distant; take them there;
All must be empty here, empty as air;
This house must seem the heritage of ghosts.

TOM PRICE.
[Maudlin, and almost weeping.]
You'll let me fix the wheel upon the trap,
Your honour? 'Twould ha' cut you to the heart
To see her wring her hands, and they so white,—
But whiter was her winsome face.

MRS. PRICE.
[Filling the glass.]
Drink, fool!
Drink to the whey-faced lady; you're in luck.

ROBERT MURDOCK.
Yes, drown him wholly. He is dangerous;
And she must see him here, lest she misdoubt
The trap.

[Refills, and gives the glass.
TOM PRICE.
To you, Sir, and the pretty lady.
She looked a l-lily with the rain upon her,
The rain-drops sparkling in the rising moon.

MRS. PRICE.
Ah, see as many moons as there are stars;
We'll soak you soon in liquor till you're blind.
Moonlight, indeed! At night, all cats are grey.

TOM PRICE.
I'll drive you, lady, though I beg for it!

[Falls on the floor.
ROBERT MURDOCK.
His tongue is locked. Quick, now, and draw the cover
Over the table there. We're barely matched
With time.
[Watching Winifred approach from the window.
Soh, all is well, the gate now shuts
On her; she little dreams whereto her steps
Are leading her, or knows the god who guides them.
[Exit Robert Murdock.

Enter Winifred, with Frost.
WINIFRED.
Festigniog still ten miles? Well, I can walk it.
Where now is he who drove me? I would give him
Three times his fare to put me on my way.

MRS. PRICE.
There lies Tom Price, my husband, pretty lady.

WINIFRED.
Asleep? Well, sleep is good, but it comes lightly,
It seems to him. You will not mind to wake him?

TOM PRICE.
[Half rising.]
Here, Miss, your servant. Fifty moons or none,
I'll shift to drive you. There's no man could speak you
No fairer now nor that.

[Falls back again.
WINIFRED.
What's this?

MRS. PRICE.
He's drunk.

TOM PRICE.
No, lively, lady! There's no man 'twixt this
And Conway knows this country-side so well,
Especially o' nights—

MRS. PRICE.
A thankless sot!
Maybe, in fifty years, my boy, they'll haul you
Out o' the bog, and show you, fresh as paint,
For money, when I'm not at hand to get it.

WINIFRED.
Oh, I am lost! [To Frost.]

You'll point me out the road?

FROST.
I am a stranger in these parts, young lady.

WINIFRED.
[To Mrs. Price.]
Well, you could tell the turnings I must take.

MRS. PRICE.
What, in the dark? Do you, too, want to pickle
Your white flesh in the bog? I'll tell you nought.
You'd best come dry yourself before the fire,
And take our food and lodging for the night;
We'll turn you out to-morrow.

WINIFRED.
I must go!
I have a brother at Festigniog, who
Is sick, and worse than sick, in grievous trouble;
He wants my help.

MRS. PRICE.
There'll come no help for him
Through you to-night. You'll get no nearer to him
By drowning. So, just take a dry night's rest,—
'Tis better than the river or the bog;
And in the morning early—

WINIFRED.
She is right;
The deepening night dispenses me of choice.
Poor wretch! you lie beneath our country's curse,
And cannot aid me. I will stay, good mother;
Thanks for the offer; I, in truth, am weary.
No; nothing but a bed whereon to rest,
And gather strength for better use to-morrow.
[Exeunt Winifred and Mrs. Price into the chamber.
Enter Robert Murdock, stealthily, by opposite door.

ROBERT MURDOCK.
I have you in the pool, my dainty trout;
There will be work enough to angle you.
Strange, how the dark, old place seems sanctified,—
Yes, sanctified, no other word will serve,
But by her unseen presence; she has carried
Her strong, pure purpose through the hall, and purged
Thereby the air our breathing had made gross.
Well, her own atmosphere shall compass her;
She lies there safe as in her nest at Fulham,
While I, with baser means—so better matched with
This muddy ball, the earth—contrive her will.

Scene II.—

The same. Morning.
WINIFRED.
Nay, lay no cloth for me, I beg, but give me
A crust, and I will eat it by the way.

MRS. PRICE.
Na, na; sit down, and have a sup o' tea.

WINIFRED.
The sun is up, I must be off; already
I think I know the road; I have been out,
And tracked it from yon strawberry-covered hill.

MRS. PRICE.
Mad haste, mad waste; you'll no but lose your time,
Unguided.

WINIFRED.
There's a house, I think an inn,
A mile ahead. I'll steer for that, and thence
Make good my further course from point to point.
This [giving money]
for my lodging and all else, and thanks.

MRS. PRICE.
What, going without the crust? [Aside.]
Small hope o' catching
This bird with chaff, but I had best use lime,
If she's too lively. [Aloud.]
'Tis a good ten mile.

WINIFRED.
That's nought, I measure toil with morning strength,
And count the gain of it with morning hope.
So fare you well.

MRS. PRICE.
Stay, while I go fetch Tom.

WINIFRED.
No need.

VOICE.
[From adjoining room, heard through the half-open door.]
It was Miss Wynne, I say; I saw her.
Her face is memorable.

ROBERT MURDOCK.
You are reckless,
Or worse, to say so.

WINIFRED.
Who are they who speak,
It seems of me?

MRS. PRICE.
The gentlemen came back
Last evening, when you were a-bed.

WINIFRED.
Who came?

MRS. PRICE.
The gentlemen from London.

WINIFRED.
I was told
The house was tenantless. One voice of those
Seemed Mr. Murdock's. Can the house be his?

VOICE.
[Still without.]
I saw her;—well; I saw her leave your chamber
At early dawn. I swear it was Miss Wynne,
The fair recluse of Fulham. You deny it.
But later on, I met her on the hill;
She all as fresh, the fact as clear as dew.

ROBERT MURDOCK.
[Still without.]
Cross, you shall answer this.

CROSS.
[Still without.]
I think I have.
I said I saw a face, and whose it was;
What more I told was wrung from me. If you
Should doubt my senses, or your own, these others
Might ratify the tale of both. The lady
Is close at hand.

CARTERET.
Murdock, you give us leave?

[Omnes approach the open door.
ROBERT MURDOCK.
[With marked distinctness.]
I give you leave to prove this man—a liar!

CROSS.
This matter cannot end beneath your roof,
And shall not. I am off; you'll hear from me.

[Exit Cross.
ROBERT MURDOCK.
[Pausing at the door.]
Miss Wynne!!

PAYNE.
The lady of the hill—

CARTERET.
And of
The Painted Chamber.

PAYNE.
Clear as dew-drops, truly.

ROBERT MURDOCK.
[Aside.]
They beat my covert for me, but I hate
The hounds that harry her.

WINIFRED.
How came you here?

CARTERET.
The very question we would turn on you.

WINIFRED.
Which of you is the master of this house?
To him I would explain the accident
Which brought me here, unwitting as unwilling.

CARTERET.
Ha, ha! Come, Murdock, 'tis your cue; ‘unwilling.’
Miss Wynne is perfect in her part.

ROBERT MURDOCK.
[Aside]
The brute,
He overlearns all lessons. [Aloud.]
Go; no more!
Your shameless thoughts dishonour you.
[Walking the room as in great agitation.
Just Heaven!
That thoughts so vile have power to cling, and darken
A name as pure of evil as the stars!
Go, leave us, all of you.
[Exeunt all but Winifred and Robert Murdock.
[Aside.]
I must be cool.
This is the crowning touch of all; and though
I work for both our weals, her presence shakes me. [To her.]

I scarcely dare to face you, having brought
This wrong upon you, guiltless though I be—

WINIFRED.
What wrong?

ROBERT MURDOCK.
You kill me with the question. Ah!
You do not know, your high thoughts cannot stoop
To measure those of this low world of ours.

WINIFRED.
I think I must have fallen below the world,
In these last days. What do you mean? Speak out.
If I am still above the ground, I beg
Let me see daylight.

ROBERT MURDOCK.
It is this—. How tell her!—
Your lodgment here last night, seen, known of all
These idlers of the Clubs, interpreted
According to their knowledge of a world
Undreamt by you. Oh, pardon me, I show you
A wound you do not feel.

WINIFRED.
And scarce believe in;
A wound skin-deep, at most. I must be gone;
Last night's adventure has done worse for me
Than start vain fears; it lost me precious hours

ROBERT MURDOCK.
No; it has saved you some. I know your errand,
Seeing I know your mind. You seek your brother;
He is at Conway, thirty miles from hence,
Not at Festigniog, whither you were bound.

WINIFRED.
How can that be?

ROBERT MURDOCK.
Believe me, it is so.

WINIFRED.
What meant that telegram sent from Festigniog?

ROBERT MURDOCK.
It meant— but who may tell the shifts, the turns,
Of one who flies from—

WINIFRED.
Let me hear the word.

ROBERT MURDOCK.
It is too bitter.

WINIFRED.
For your tongue, or thought?

ROBERT MURDOCK.
Oh, for my tongue! My thought is barred all choice.

WINIFRED.
My tongue is not so dainty. You would say,
‘From justice.’

ROBERT MURDOCK.
Yes, from justice. It is cruel!

WINIFRED.
No; kind as love, and like it, cannot err!
He fly from justice, —he who at its call
Is gone to fight its battle now unaided!
Mostyn is pure, as I can be no more,
Pure even of knowledge of the foul abyss
The thoughts of men may sink to. When he knows it,
We will return and face them; they shall see
That if they force us to the brink of shame,
They cannot drag us over. But no more.
Now, tell me how to get to Conway, quick;
One word of sober sense a sober brain
May act on, would do good among these lies.

ROBERT MURDOCK.
Alas, you must have patience, you are bound!
No train will leave for Conway these two hours.

WINIFRED.
I know the road I came, and go to wait it.

ROBERT MURDOCK.
This haste mends nothing now; what's done is done.
The shadow of the roof that you would fly from
Would rest upon you still. Hear me a moment:
The love you seemed to scorn has never spoken
Till now, when it can help you at your need.
It has not pleaded for the bliss it craved,
But now it asks to stand between the world—
The false, ill-judging world—and that fair fame
You hold more dear than life, more dear than love.
Accept my faithful service, and my means
Of making it availing. On one hand,
All evil chances wait you: a proud name
Dragged through the Law-Courts, which must mean at best—
I say at best—defeat of all your hopes.
But no, they were no hopes, they were but dreams,—
And vague as ignorance; my heart has bled
To watch you blunt the bright edge of your youth
Against the gold and iron that opposed
Your struggles. Now, the Dragon of the Law
Stands ready to consume your slow-won gains,
And blight as with a breath of pestilence
All fields of future effort. You have battled—
You nobly, Wynne too desperately—and failed;
So failed, that failure is the least of all
The ills that threaten you.

WINIFRED.
Enough, no more!

ROBERT MURDOCK.
A moment still I pray;—I am your slave,
Trust me to cut this coil, and do the work
For which my hands are better armed than yours.
I hold the golden key you would have toiled for
Through years of costly sacrifice. No, hear me,—
Let me but see the light of those fair eyes,
And with one bound I swear to lift you clear
Of shame and sorrow. If your name has suffered,
I offer one as high in men's esteem;
Take it, and with it love—that cannot speak—
It overweights my tongue; but take my name,
Take, bear it as my wife, and so uphold
The fame of yours.

WINIFRED.
I cannot answer you,
As one deserves who thinks he could bestow
So vast a boon; pray, pardon me for that;
First, to myself my need seems not so great,
And if it were, I'd go a beggar rather
Than use your name, upon the poor exchange
I have to offer on it.

ROBERT MURDOCK.
Let me judge
The worth of what you have, and what I lack.

WINIFRED.
No, that must I. My answer is,—Farewell.
I stay too long,

ROBERT MURDOCK.
One word, one moment still.
Wise as you are, your wisdom is too young
To guide you safely in these unknown straits.
We'll call your brother true as you are true,—
I may not judge him; all this evidence
That thickens on him, coupled with his flight,
And the strange mystery of it, may be only
The work of Chance, that takes him for its foot-ball.
But be that as it may, men's minds are still
Governed by proof;—what, if he be condemned?
The thing my name would shield you from, would seem
The likelier by reflection.

WINIFRED.
Let me be.
You cannot tempt, and only torture me;
I will not say insult. I do not fear
Your world of shadows.

ROBERT MURDOCK.
I must save you, then,
In spite of all; yes, even of yourself!

[Attempts to lay his hand upon her wrist.
WINIFRED.
You shall not. Hah!

ROBERT MURDOCK.
By heaven and earth, I will.

WINIFRED.
What will you?

ROBERT MURDOCK.
Force you to accept the refuge
I offer you against the scorn of men.

WINIFRED.
I answer it with deeper scorn, and you,—
I dare you, as I scorn you, from the height,
Yes, of my trust in everlasting truth.
You have no faith in God or man, in Mostyn
Or me; the world itself is not so low,
But you blaspheme it; him you hold a thief;
And me a wanton to be bought with bribes,
Or a frail coward to succumb to threats
More cowardly—

ROBERT MURDOCK.
These blind strokes shall not serve you.
Think you if you were drowning, I would spare
To make you powerless to subvert my efforts
To rescue you?

WINIFRED.
You threaten force to keep me?

ROBERT MURDOCK.
I will release you at a word.

WINIFRED.
What word?

ROBERT MURDOCK.
Your promise to be mine;—to take my name.

WINIFRED.
Never, while I withstand to take your nature.

ROBERT MURDOCK.
You shall not rush on ruin—

WINIFRED.
Touch me not!
You will get nothing by your villainy.

ROBERT MURDOCK.
Yes, I shall get the heart of my desire,—
The thing whereof the hope sustains my life,
Which I have wearied for in dreams and waking,
Have made my very end and goal of being,
Seeking in crooked paths and straight, since first
Your vision changed the aspect of the world,—
You I shall get.

WINIFRED.
No, nothing but the husk,
The empty shell of me; and if you crushed it
To dust within your grasp,—I should elude you—
Pass forth unspotted from your sin-stained hand.
Away! Help, help! Is there on earth no pity?

ROBERT MURDOCK.
[Aside.]
Her cry goes through me as a bird that struggles,
Unnerves the hand that holds it. [To her.]

Do not fear me;
I seek your good. I love you. I will make
No step more near than this, until you give me
The right.

WINIFRED.
Soh; hold to that, and let me go.
The space between us is impassable.

ROBERT MURDOCK.
I cannot. Do not hate me for my love;
I offer more than now you care to take,—
A day will come when you will own its value:
For you a shield from slander, for your brother,
Guilty or wronged, protection from the law.
No, I must speak! my father would not press
This suit against the brother of my wife.
Take thought for him, your brother; for yourself,
You may be pitiless, but not of him.
Give me your hand on that,—for love of Mostyn,
For honour of your name, now doubly blasted,
And only so to be redeemed.

WINIFRED.
I will not!
Honour is not to be so lost or kept.
Hah! I have learnt by this how vain our pride,
How poor our strivings were. If I should bide
A year unrescued in this ogre's den,—
And as I think I shall not bide a day,—
My honour would be mine unto the end,
Undimmed, despite all stains upon the rag
Your world knows by the title. It may call me
Your paramour, your mistress, or your victim,—
By any name it knows, except your wife;—
That is a shame not death shall put on me!

ROBERT MURDOCK.
[Retreating, and overcome.]
[Aside.]
My weapons cannot reach this Britomart;
She blasts me with her virtue at white heat;
I cower before her. I have sold my sword
And sword-craft to the devil, and—got cheated!

WINIFRED.
Let—let me go.

ROBERT MURDOCK.
I cannot.

WINIFRED.
Let me go!

ROBERT MURDOCK.
I'll rather let my life.

WINIFRED.
You shall not stay me,
You dare not. Help! O help! It cannot be
That here are none but fiends.

ROBERT MURDOCK.
[Aside.]
With this high soul
I'll make the body try conclusions. [Aloud.]
Lady,
That door is fast: though you are safe within it
As in a shrine.

WINIFRED.
O God of heaven! Norman!
[Flies to the window, and tries wildly to open it. A figure is seen advancing from without.
Ha! Who is this? Himself;—he sees me;—help!
Help, help, I faint!

Enter Norman through the window, having staved in the glass. Winifred falls fainting into his arms.
NORMAN.
Lie safe, my love!

ROBERT MURDOCK.
[Aside.]
Lost! Lost!
The pangs as of a thousand years of hell
Are in this moment.

NORMAN.
[To Winifred.]
I have tracked you, found you. [To Robert Murdock.]

You'll pay down all that life is worth for this.

ROBERT MURDOCK.
[Unlocking, and opening wide the door.]
You think to storm my house. Begone! No man
Bides here against my will.

NORMAN.
[Still supporting the fainting form of Winifred.]
No house in Britain
Holds out the law.

ROBERT MURDOCK.
[Advancing menacingly.]
Quit this, or harm will come!

NORMAN.
Stand off; if you but breathe on her you make
A step towards death.

ROBERT MURDOCK.
Leave go; she is my charge;
This lady is my wife; your blundering fury
Has brought her to this pass.

NORMAN.
Villain, you lie.

ROBERT MURDOCK.
You, man of double names—Drayton or Thorne—
Shall prove that on your life.
[Opens the armoury, and hastily snatches a brace of pistols, one of which he endeavours to force upon Norman.
Leave her, I say;
Have done this woman's work; we're man to man.
Her sense is sealed from hurt. Lay her down softly.
Take this;—you give the sign;—count three; we fire together.

NORMAN.
[Taking the loaded weapon from Robert Murdock's hand, and flinging it down upon the table.]
You must be much a fool to count your life—
The wreck you've made of it—a match for mine!
Stakes should be equal. Cease this rant, and listen:
I have you fast within the devil's coil
You wove about these two. You know these notes?

ROBERT MURDOCK.
[Aside. Clutching the pistol that he still retains.]
I see that death must be my door of exit. [Aloud.]

How so?

NORMAN.
For having lately left your hands.

ROBERT MURDOCK.
Am I a miser that I know the face
Of money that has past between my fingers?

NORMAN.
This is poor fencing. Oh my gentle love,
Is there no help for you in this foul den?

ROBERT MURDOCK.
What proof connects this crumpled trash with me

NORMAN.
Your name upon the paper it was wrapped in.

ROBERT MURDOCK.
A mere thief's trick; that roll was found—?

NORMAN.
Found where
Two knaves were seeking it one starlit night.

ROBERT MURDOCK.
[Aside.]
Farewell, fair world!

NORMAN.
No doubling will avail you.
Your struggles scarcely blunt contempt with pity.
She moves; come back to me, my life!

WINIFRED.
Where am I?
Ah, here!

NORMAN
Here, but with me.

WINIFRED.
Take me to Mostyn;
They're crushing out his life.

NORMAN.
No, he is well;
These lies have left him scatheless; see, there stands
The baffled schemer, tangled in the ruin
Of plots whose secret threads are all unwound.
His was the hand that—

[Norman bends over Winifred, and continues speaking in whispers.
ROBERT MURDOCK.
[Aside.]
Hah! those hated lips
That breathe into her ear what seems my shame;
They shall not live to print their kisses on her!
That dark trap-door of death shall launch us three
Together on the void.

[He moves stealthily towards the table, Norman continuing to whisper in Winifred's ear, and cautiously possesses himself of the pistol dropped by Norman.
NORMAN.
[Aloud, to Winifred.]
Now, that's yourself,
Your brave, strong, noble self again.

WINIFRED.
[Freeing herself from Norman's arms.]
Almost;
But oh! this bad new world!

[Tries to rise, and falls back.
NORMAN.
No love, not yet;
Rest here awhile.

ROBERT MURDOCK.
[Aside, taking unsteady aim.]
Ay, make your lover's heaven
Here in this house. I feel the fangs of furies!
Hold a moment.

[Dropping the weapon, and pressing his hand before his eyes.
WINIFRED.
Norman, I live again,
Though in a dream; how came—?

NORMAN.
Nay, love, not now.
All heaven and earth, the very beasts were with us.
Oh Winifred, I hold you!

ROBERT MURDOCK.
[Aside, trying to take aim again.]
So, one ball
Will pierce the twain. What ague shakes me thus?

WINIFRED.
Let go, love; I can walk.

NORMAN.
Not so, sweetheart;
I'll carry you from out this poisoned air.
Jenny awaits our coming at Dolgelly.

WINIFRED.
Only your arm to stay me—

ROBERT MURDOCK.
[Aside.]
How they mix
Their dying breaths. My hand still shakes; they get
A moment's grace ere this hot love of theirs,
Which is for me hell fire, shall be put out.
That covers her. If now my aim were sure,
That all-too-happy heart would cease to beat.
Fool, fool! I thought I loved her as a man;
This mist is womanish.
[His arm falls to his side.
I cannot slay her
Now,—with that smile upon her,—and by heaven
It saves him though I wish him damned for it!

[He drops the pistol into the pocket of his shootingcoat. Norman, and Winifred supported by his arm, move across the stage towards the door.
ROBERT MURDOCK.
[Advancing.]
A word before you part.

NORMAN.
No word can cross
The gulf between us; there is law for felons;
Fly it.

ROBERT MURDOCK.
A word, but not for you.
[Sinking on one knee before Winifred.
My crimes
Against you, lady, are too black for pardon.
I thought you proud, I find you great, too great
To come within the compass of my art.
Your eyes that deal out life and death have settled
My doom,—that matters little. Yet one word,
One word as from the grave that buries shame,
Folly and failure, passion, hate, and all things.
I loved you! Grant me grace to know—I loved you!
The web I wove to win you to myself
I would have so unwound—

NORMAN.
Vain fool to think
That having spent the best of all your strength
In compassing the villainy the first
Unlettered knave if gifted by the devil
Had done with likelier cunning, you might trust
To some hap-hazard opportunity
To build again the thing you had despoiled.
Destruction needs no god to set it going;
A child will crush a hecatomb of flies,—
No hand of man will ever fashion one;
Any beast's hoof will grind a shell to dust,—
Not all the world's creative souls restore
The builder, ground within the shell, to life;
Cellini's self could not so much as chisel
The involuted chambers of a house
Left empty by a snail. This is fool's work
That you have set your hand to.

ROBERT MURDOCK.
Have a care;
You little know how near you were to nothing
A moment since. I have not left you breath
To blow into my face. Fool's work you call it?
No; work to tax a man. The part you shared
With Gelert, was a dog's. I could have righted
More than I wronged.—

NORMAN.
Trickster! The part you bungled
Was mere destruction, and you boast your power
Of raising from the dust a man's good name,
A woman's honour, and her faith in men;—
Things easy to betray as life, and hard
Almost as life to re-instate—

WINIFRED.
Forbear!
No more I pray; this man lies at your mercy.
Enter hastily Mostyn with Tom Price.
Mostyn! My brother!

[Mostyn and Winifred fall into each other's arms.
ROBERT MURDOCK.
Soh, my house already
Is masterless; unwelcome guests may come
And go in it; they scent my death afar.

WINIFRED.
[To Mostyn:]
You still are young as when you left for Wales—
How long ago?

MOSTYN.
Two days.

WINIFRED.
Two lives!

MOSTYN.
And you
Are still your valiant self?

WINIFRED.
All, to a hair.

MOSTYN.
You, Norman, were before me here.

NORMAN.
No whit
Too soon.

WINIFRED.
[To Mostyn.]
What brought you?

TOM PRICE.
I, I fetched him, lady;
Ay, though I die for it.

MOSTYN.
True, he overheard
The talk of two conspirators, and journeyed
All night to bring you help.

ROBERT MURDOCK.
[Aside.]
They mouth me; this
Is death without its reverence.

WINIFRED.
Thanks, kind friend!
Mostyn, you know—how much of what has past?

MOSTYN.
All; from our faithful Jenny at Dolgelly,
Where Norman left her. Murdock, can you breathe
In such a company?

WINIFRED.
I pray no more;
Through him I now know, yes,—I now know shame.

ROBERT MURDOCK.
[Aside.]
I will endure. She shall not look on blood.

MOSTYN.
Norman, I did not think to see you here;
There's heavy news for you abroad in Conway:
Sir Pierce lies sick, and all his cry they say
Is for his son.

NORMAN.
My father! I must see him.

MOSTYN.
Our ways then lie together. Owen's trial
Comes off to-day at noon. [To Winifred].

Poor Win, poor sister!
Your eyes will see what mine have seen,—the smoke
Of strangers' fires upon the hearth, where hope
And memory of ours have vainly clung.
What if our place should know us nevermore!

[Exeunt Norman, Mostyn, and Winifred.
ROBERT MURDOCK.
[Advancing to the window, and watching their figures as they grow less in the distance.]
So ends the game; I've played it ill, and lost.
There's nothing left to do but dout the candle;
After long agony, I now can die.
These foolish, soft, strange fancies that have held me
In lingering torment for her sake, were like
The wild bird's feathers in the bed, that keep
The dying wretch from shuffling off the flesh.
Nature, blind builder, what strange stuff you work
Into our consciousness; but Death is lord
Of all. Farewell, fair lady! One last look;—
The sun that sets for me, makes day for him;
No more of that,—my eyes shall hold her image
For death to seal within them; so I win
Of both at last, and so, fair world, farewell!

[Robert Murdock sinks upon a chair, and raises the pistol to his mouth. The discharge is heard as the curtain descends.