You must

I had been nourished by the sickly food
Of popular applause. I now perceived
That we are praised, only as men in us
Do recognise some image of themselves
An abject counterpart of what they are,

Or the empty thing that they would wish to be.
I felt that merit has no surer test
Than obloquy that, if we wish to serve
The world in substance, not deceive by show,
We must become obnoxious to its hate,
Or fear disguised in simulated scorn.

Mar. I pity, can forgive, you; but those wretches

That monstrous perfidy!
OST.

Keep down your wrath. False Shame discarded, spurious Fame despised,

Twin sisters both of Ignorance, I found

Life stretched before me smooth as some broad way

Cleared for a monarch's progress. Priests might spin

Their veil, but not for me-'twas in fit place
Among its kindred cobwebs. I had been,
And in that dream had left my native land,
One of Love's simple bondsmen-the soft chain
Was off for ever; and the men, from whom
This liberation came, you would destroy:
Join me in thanks for their blind services.

Mar. Tis a strange aching that, when w would curse

And cannot.-You have betrayed me-I have done

I am content-I know that he is guiltless-
That both are guiltless, without spot or stain,
Mutually consecrated. Poor old Man!
And I had heart for this, because thou lovedst
Her who from very infancy had been
Light to thy path, warmth to thy blood!-To-
gether
[Turning to OSWALD.
We propped his steps, he leaned upon us both.
Osw. Ay, we are coupled by a chain of ada-

mant:

Let us be fellow-labourers, then, to enlarge
Man's intellectual empire. We subsist
In slavery all is slavery: we receive
Laws, but we ask not whence those laws have

come :

We need an inward sting to goad us on.

Mar. Have you betrayed me? Speak to that. Ost. The mask, Which for a season I have stooped to wear, Must be cast off. Know then that I was urged, (For other impulse let it pass) was driven, To seek for sympathy, because I saw In you a mirror of my youthful self: I would have made us equal once again, But that was a vain hope. You have struck home,

With a few drops of blood cut short the busi

ness:

What fiend could promp This action? Innocent!-oh, breaking heart! Alive or dead, I'll find him. [Exit.

Osw.

Alive-perdition! [Exit.

SCENE, the inside of a poor Cottage. ELEANOR and IDONEA seated. Idon. The storm beats hard-Mercy for poor or rich,

Whose heads are shelterless in such a night! A Voice without. Holla! to bed, good Felks, within!

Elea. O save us! Idon. What can this mean? Elea. Alas, for my poor husband!-We'll have a counting of our flocks to-morrow; The wolf keeps festival these storn.y nights. Be calm, sweet Lady, they are wassailers The voices die away in the distance. Returning from their Feast-my heart beats

A noise at midnight does so frighten me.
Idon. Hush!
Elea.

[Listening. They are gone. On such a

night, my husband, Dragged from his bed, was cast into a dungeon, Where, hid from me, he counted many years, A criminal in no one's eyes but theirsNot even in theirs-whose brutal violence So dealt with him. Idon.

I have a noble Friend First among youths of knightly breeding, One Who lives but to protect the weak or injured. There again! [Listening.

Elea. Tis my husband's foot. Good Eldred
Has a kind heart; but his imprisonment
Has made him fearful, and he'll never be
The man he was.
Idon.

I will retire-good night!
[She goes within.

Enter ELDRED, (hides a bundle).
Eld. Not yet in bed, Eleanor!-there are
stains in that frock which must be washed out.
Elea. What has befallen you?

Eld. I am belated, and you must know the cause-(speaking low) that is the blood of an unhappy Man.

Elea. Oh! we are undone for ever.

Eld. Heaven forbid that I should lift my hand against any man. Eleanor, I have shed tears to-night, and it comforts me to think of it. Elca. Where, where is he?

Eld. I have done him no harm, but-it will be forgiven me it would not have been so once.

:

[A short pause; she falls upon his neck. Eld. To-night I met with an old Man lying stretched upon the ground-a sad spectacle: raised him up with a hope that we might shelter and restore him.

Elea. (as if ready to run). Where is he? You were not able to bring him all the way with you; let us return, I can help you.

[ELDRED shakes his head. Eld. He did not seem to wish for life: as I was struggling on, by the light of the moon I saw the stains of blood upon my clothes-he waved his hand, as if it were all useless: and I let him sink again to the ground.

Elea. Oh that I had been by your side!

Eld. I tell you his hands and his body were cold-how could I disturb his last moments? he strove to turn from me as if he wished to settle into sleep.

Elea. But, for the stains of blood

Eld. He must have fallen, I fancy, for his head was cut; but I think his malady was cold and hunger.

Elea. Oh, Eldred, I shall never be able to look up at this roof in storm or fair but I shall tremble.

Eld. Is it not enough that my ill stars have kept me abroad to-night till this hour? I come home, and this is my comfort!

Elea. But did he say nothing which might have set you at ease?

Eld. I thought he grasped my hand while he was muttering something about his Child-his Daughter--starting as if he heard a noise). What is that?

Elea. Eldred, you are a father.

Eld. God knows what was in my heart, and will not curse my son for my sake.

Elca. But you prayed by him? you waited the hour of his release?

Eld. The night was wasting fast; I have no friend; I am spited by the world-his wound terrified me--if I had brought him along with me, and he had died in my arms!--I am sure I heard something breathing-and this chair!

Elea. Oh, Eldred, you will die alone. You will have nobody to close your eyes-no hand to grasp your dying hand-I shall be in my grave. A curse will attend us all.

Eld. Have you forgot your own troubles when I was in the dungeon?

Elea. And you left him alive?

Eld. Alive!-the damps of death were upon him he could not have survived an hour. Elea. In the cold, cold night.

Eld. (in a savage tone). Ay, and his head was bare: I suppose you would have had me lend my bonnet to cover it.-You will never rest till I am brought to a felon's end.

Elea. Is there nothing to be done? cannot we go to the Convent?

Eld. Ay, and say at once that I murdered him!

Elea. Eldred, I know that ours is the only house upon the Waste; let us take heart; this Man may be rich; and could he be saved by our means, his gratitude may reward us.

Eld. "Tis all in vain.

Elea. But let us make the attempt. This old Man may have a wife, and he may have children let us return to the spot; we may restore him, and his eyes may yet open upon those that love him.

Eld. He will never open them more; even when he spoke to me, he kept them firmly sealed as if he had been blind.

Idon, (rushing out). It is, it is, my FatherEld. We are betrayed (looking at IDONEA). Elea. His Daughter!-God have mercy! (turning to IDONEA).

Idon. (sinking down). Oh! lift me up and carry me to the place.

You are safe; the whole world shall not harm

Outspread, as if to save himself from falling!-
Some terrible phantom I believe is now
Passing before him, such as God will not
Permit to visit any but a man

Who has been guilty of some horrid crime.
[MARMADUKE disappears.

Ost. The game is up!-
For.

If it be needful, Sir,
I will assist you to lay hands upon him.
Osw. No, no, my Friend, you may pursue
your business-

'Tis a poor wretch of an unsettled mind, Who has a trick of straying from his keepers; We must be gentle.. Leave him to my care. [Exit Forester.

If his own eyes play false with him, these freaks

Of fancy shall be quickly tamed by mine;
The goal is reached. My Master shall become
A shadow of myself-made by myself.

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,

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.
troubled-

Perhaps you are his son?

Mar.

You are

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.
EIL.
Nor was it mine.
Mar. But had he strength to walk? I could
have borne him

I hurried back with her.-O 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

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.

SCENE changes to the door of ELDRED's cottageIDONEA seated-enter ELDRED.

Eld. Your Father, Lady, from a wilful hand Has met unkindness; so indeed he told me, And you remember such was my report: From what has just befallen me I have cause To fear the very worst.

Idon.

My Father is dead; Why dost thou come to me with words like these?

Eld. A wicked Man should answer for his crimes.

Idon. Thou seest me what I am.
Eld.

It was most heinous,
And doth call out for vengeance.
Idon.

Do not add,

I prithee, to the harm thou'st done already. Eld. Hereafter you will thank me for this

service.

Hard by, a Man I met, who, from plain proofs

Of interfering Heaven, I have no doubt,
Laid hands upon your Father. Fit it were
You should prepare to meet him.
Iden.
I have nothing
To do with others; help me to my Father-
[She turns and sees MARMADUKE leaning
on ELEANOR-throws herself upon his
neck, and after some time,

In joy I met thee, but a few hours past;
And thus we meet again; one human stay
Is left me still in thee. Nay, shake not so.
Mar. In such a wilderness-to see no thing,
No, not the pitying moon!

Idon.

And perish so. Mar. Without a dog to moan for him. Idon. Think not of it, But enter there and see him how he sleeps, Tranquil as he had died in his own bed. Mar. Tranquil-why not?

Idon.

Mar.

Oh, peace!

He is at peace;

His body is at rest: there was a plot,
A hideous plot, against the soul of man:
It took effect-and yet I baffled it,
In some degree.

Idon.
Between us stood, I thought,
A cup of consolation, filled from Heaven
For both our needs, must 1, and in thy pre-

sence,

Alone partake of it?-Beloved Marmaduke!

Mar. Give me a reason why the wisest thing That the earth owns shall never choose to die, But some one must be near to count his groans. The wounded deer retires to solitude, And dies in solitude: all things but man, All die in solitude.

[Moving towards the cottage door. Mysterious God, If she had never lived I had not done it!Idon. Alas! the thought of such a cruel death Has overwhelmed him. I must follow. Eld. Lady!

You will do well; (she goes) unjust suspicion may

Cleave to this Stranger: if, upon his entering,
The dead Man heave a groan, or from his side
Uplift his hand-that would be evidence.
Elea. Shame! Eldred, shame!
Mar. (both returning).

one face, (to himself).

The dead have but

And such a Man-so meek and unoffending-
Helpless and harmless as a babe: a Man,
By obvious signal to the world's protection,
Solemnly dedicated to decoy him!--
Idon. Oh, had you seen him living!-
Mar.
I (so filled
With horror is this world) am unto thee
The thing most precious that it now contains:
Therefore through me alone must be revealed
By whom thy Parent was destroyed, Idonea!
I have the proofs !--
Idon.

O miserable Father!

If e'er he entereth the house of God,
The roof, self-moved, unsettling o'er his head;
And let him, when he would lie down at night,
Point to his wife the blood-drops on his pillow!
Mar. My voice was silent, but my heart
hath joined thee.

Idon (leaning on MARMADUKE). Left to the mercy of that savage Man! How could he call upon his Child !-O Friend! [Turns to MARMADUKE. My faithful true and only Comforter. Mar. Ay, come to me and weep. (He kisses her). (To ELDRED). Yes, varlet, look, The devils at such sights do clap their hands. [ELDRED retires alarmed. Idon. Thy vest is torn, thy cheek is deadly pale;

Hast thou pursued the monster?

Mar.

I have found him.Oh! would that thou hadst perished in the

flames!

Idon. Here art thou, then can I be desolate? Mar. There was a time, when this protecting hand

Availed against the mighty: never more
Shall blessings wait upon a deed of mine.

Idon. Wild words for me to hear, for me, an

orphan,

Committed to thy guardianship by Heaven; And, if thou hast forgiven me, let me hope, In this deep sorrow, trust, that I am thine For closer care;-here is no malady.

[Taking his arm. Mar. There, is a malady(Striking his heart and forehead. And here, and here,

A mortal malady.-I am accurst:
All nature curses me, and in my heart
Thy curse is fixed; the truth must be laid bare.
It must be told, and borne. I am the man,
(Abused, betrayed, but how it matters not)
Presumptuous above all that ever breathed,
Who, casting as I thought a guilty Person
Upon Heaven's righteous judgment, did be-

The writing Oswald's; the signature my Father's:

(Looks steadily at the paper) And here is yours, or do my eyes deceive me? You have then seen my Father?

Mar. Upon this arm.

He has leaned

Idon. You led him towards the Convent? Mar. That Convent was Stone-Arthur Castle.

Thither

Name him not. Enter female Beggar.

Enter Oswald.

Oswald (to himself). Strong to o'erturn, strong also to build up. [To MARMADUKE.

The starts and sallies of our last encounter
Were natural enough; but that, I trust,
Is all gone by. You have cast off the chains
That fettered your nobility of mind-
Delivered heart and head!

Let us to Palestine ; This is a paltry field for enterprise.

Mar. Ay, what shall we encounter next? This issue

I cross it?

darkness,

And weakness crowned with the impotence of death!

Your pupil is, you see, an apt proficient, (ironically).

Start not! Here is another face hard by ;
Come, let us take a peep at both together,
And, with a voice at which the dead will quake,
Resound the praise of your morality-
Of this too much.

[Drawing OSWALD towards the Cottage--
stops short at the door.

Men are there, millions, Oswald, Who with bare hands would have plucked out thy heart

And flung it to the dogs: but I am raised
Above, or sunk below, all further sense

the process:

Proof after proof was pressed upon me; guilt Made evident, as seemed, by blacker guilt, Whose impious folds enwrapped even thee; and truth

And innocence, embodied in his looks,

His words and tones and gestures, did but serve
With me to aggravate his crimes, and heaped
Ruin upon the cause for which they pleaded.
Then pity crossed the path of my resolve:
Confounded, I looked up to Heaven, and cast,
Idonea! thy blind Father, on the Ordeal
Of the bleak Waste-left him-and so he died!
[IDONEA sinks senseless; Beggar, ELEANOR,
&c., crowd round, and bear her off.
Why may we speak these things, and do no

Of that old Man's forgiveness on thy heart,
Pressing as heavily as it doth on mine.
Coward I have been; know, there lies not now
Within the compass of a mortal thought,
A deed that I would shrink from;-but to
endure,

That is my destiny. May it be thine:
Thy office, thy ambition, be henceforth
To feed remorse, to welcome every sting
Of penitential anguish, yea with tears.
When seas and continents shall lie between us-
The wider space the better-we may find
In such a course fit links of sympathy,
An incommunicable rivalship
Maintained, for peaceful ends beyond our view.
[Confused voices-several of the band enter
-rush upon OSWALD and seize him.
One of them. I would have dogged him to
the jaws of hell-

Osw. Ha! is it so!-That vagrant Hag!this comes

Osw.

[Aside.

Of having left a thing like her alive!
Several voices. Despatch him!
If I pass beneath a rock
And shout, and, with the echo of my voice,
Bring down a heap of rubbish, and it crush me,
I die without dishonour. Famished, starved,
A Fool and Coward blended to my wish!

[Smiles scornfully and exultingly at MAR