 | The Rightful Heir |  |
Scene 1.
St. Kinian's Cliff, a wild and precipitous headland. In front the ground is broken with crags, here and there interspersed with stunted brushwood. The scene to be so contrived as to give some notion of the height of the cliff. Time, a little before sunset.Alton and Vyvyan seated.
Alton.
And I believed them when they said “He died
In the far seas.” Ten years of desolate sorrow
Passed as one night—Now thy warm hand awakes me.
Vyv.
Dear friend, the sun sets fast.
Alton.
Alas! then listen.
There was a page, fair, gentle, brave, but low-born—
And in those years when, to young eyes, the world,
With all the rough disparities of fortune,
Floats level thro' the morning haze of fancy,
He loved the heiress of a lordly house:
She, scarce from childhood, listening, loved again,
And secret nuptials hallowed stolen meetings—
'Till one—I know not whom (perchance a kinsman,
Heir to that house—if childless died its daughter)
Spied—tracked the bridegroom to the bridal bower,
Aroused the sire, and said, “Thy child's dishonoured!”
Snatching his sword, the father sought the chamber;
Burst the closed portal—but his lifted hand
Escaped the crime. Cold as a fallen statue,
Cast from its blessed pedestal for ever,
The bride lay senseless on the lonely floor
By the oped casement, from whose terrible height
The generous boy, to save her life or honour,
Had plunged into his own sure death below.
Vyv.
A happy death, if it saved her he loved!
Alton.
A midnight grave concealed the mangled clay,
And buried the bride's secret. Few nights after,
Darkly as life from him had passed away,
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Stern hands conveyed the pledge of fatal nuptials
To the poor priest, who to thy loftier kindred
Owed the mean roof that sheltered thee.
Vyv.
Oh say
I have a mother still!
Alton.
Yes, she survived—
Her vows, thy birth, by the blind world unguessed;
And, after years of woe and vain resistance,
Forced to a lordlier husband's arms.
Vyv.
My soul
Ofttimes recalls a shadowy Mournfulness,
With woman's patient brow, and saddest tears
Dropped fast from woman's eyes;—they were my mother's.
Alton.
In stealth a wife—in stealth a mother! yes,
Then did she love thee, then aspired to own
In coming times, and bade me hoard these proofs
For that blest day. But, ah! with the new ties
Came new affections—to the second nuptials
A second son was born; she loved him better,
Better than thee—than her own soul!
Vyv.
Poor mother!
Alton.
And haughtier thoughts on riper life arose,
And worldly greatness feared the world's dread shame,
And she forsook her visits to thy pillow,
And the sire threatened, and the kinsman prayed,
Till, over-urged by terror for thy safety,
I took reluctant vows to mask the truth
And hush thy rights while lived thy mother's sire,
And he, her second unsuspecting lord.
Thus thy youth, nameless, left my lonely roof.
The sire and husband died while thou wert absent.
Thou liv'st—thou hast returned; mine oath is freed;
These scrolls attest my tale and prove thy birthright—
Hail, Lord of Beaufort—Heir of Montreville!
Vyv.
'Tis she—'tis she! At the first glance I loved her,
And when I told my woes, she wept—she wept!
This is her writing. Look—look where she calls me
“Edmond and child.” Old man, how thou hast wronged her.
Joy—joy! I fly to claim and find a Mother!
[Exit Vyvyan.
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Just Power, propitiate Nature to that cry.
And, from the hardened rock, let living streams
Gush as in Horeb! Ah, how faintly flags,
Strained by unwonted action, weary age!
I'll seek the neighbouring hamlet—rest and pray.
[Exit Alton.
| The Rightful Heir | |