Yet can I say that I repent it-no !— And were the flames of hell ninefold more hot, Without Sophia never could I live! SCENE IV. Walter, Sophia, Emilius, (Soon after, the Wal. So much the better- Stran. God save you, friends. Your greeting, friend, is good; and of thy worth Affords a pledge. So art thou truly wel come. Stran. (putting off his cloak.) You see a traveller who has lost his way. Will you permit Wal (seeing the stranger at a loss with his hat.) Shake off the snow, good friend. (Soph. (coming forward.) Walter, I feel a strange misgiving here. Wal. Um! So do I-wherefore I cannot tell Soph. (to the stranger.) You are not well acquainted with the way? Stran. 'Tis long since I was here before. (He looks about him, and seems to pray in silence.) Soph. So then ? Wal. (in a soothing tone to Sophia.) He seems a travelling preacher.-In the forest That in my bosom smothers up the sparks My unexpected entrance raised confusion? seems That some dark spirit frowns? Or is it rather A gloom prophetic from the realms of death, That spreads around me this mysterious terror? Came I not here to die? It matters not, When the tree withers, where it first was reared, And evermore the river hastes away From the first fountain-head. But to the spheres The path is closed; and man, whose course is thither, Dies not in peace, but in his native land. That wreathes into a circle,)-so his exit Stran. Would you not like to be His heir-at-law? Wal. Whoever knows to earn His bread by labour, never will desire It is decreed and past; and Lewis Horst Wal. (mistrustfully.) Indeed ? Soph. (working at her net.) Well then, This would be fortune! Stran. Named you and your sister, Whom Wal. Nay, there you are in error-I have none. Stran. How! know you not? Wal. I never had a sister. Stran. Ah! like the first cold shivering of a fever, But in the snares of the deceiver fell His heart. It must be told-At a grand feast Given by the falconer, when all were gay, Wal. Did'st thou say, indeed, (Terrified, and looking towards the door.) 'Twas then, too, that he died. Wal. That day that comes But every fourth year seems to me accurs'd, No gift of Heav'n-but heathenish work of Rome! I threaten'd or implor'd. Our doom was fix'd. That was most impious! Wal. Well-I have atoned By suffering for my crime. Stran. But Heaven is jealousAnd judgement awful Wherefore didst thou swear That heavy oath? Soph. My courage was o'ercome Resistance vain. Wal. Then from my father's home, By rage and sorrow I was drivenStran. Unblest, Thou didst forsake thy parents ?— Soph. For my sake That error he committed ;-through the world Wandered twelve months or more without repose : Wal. Fortune was more propitious than a father I found Sophia in a foreign land- lips ; Our hearts indissolubly were united. 3 E I sent intelligence that he was there, Wal. Their import-that my mother, On the same day, that comes in each fourth year His birth-day. Wal. And one sentence in my letter My heart with unexpected pleasure filledSoph. Alas it led me on to sin. Wal." While yet, I linger in this weary world," he said, "Have I a secret to disclose to thee, That a dear heart with thine will now unite." Now, dearer was to me no heart on earth Stran. Ha! tell me this, Your name then is Sophia? Stran. For this thank Heaven! Wal. I urg'd my suit with vehemence ; Threw myself at her feet, and prayed that we Might never part again! At last she yielded. Stran. How,-then you waited not, first to obtain, A father's blessing? Wal. No-alas, we did not! Soph. When tears are showered upon an heart that love Has cultivated, like a fruitful field, Powerfully will the first green shoots arise! So here was foster'd the quick growth of sin! Wal. Within my burning heart, a conflict raged; "If thy desire," methought, "has not his blessing, Then art thou lost, and evermore thy portion And to new life I woke, the interpretation The Life came again, 'tis true, and recollection; But limbs and tongue were paralys'd—Oh, fearful His efforts were to say what on his heart Stran. Aye-to confess our sins, Too long conceal'd, Heaven at the hour of death Forbids,-as if its mercy were exhausted. Wal. Twelve years have past awaythrough all this time, The devil fill'd us with unquiet thoughts, That against us resentment caus'd his death. Soph. Now let us deem it was the agitation Of joy that kill'd him; and that his exertion Was but to tell us that we had a sister! Wal. This house here in the forest, of the To pain you must be reconciled. In truth, Yet who can stem the tide of consequences? My name is Payne. Stran. How so? Soph. My father, Horst, Called me Sophia; but my name before Stran. Indeed! And where was then Soph. Gemind.The Rector's house. Soph. There were two of us protected Myself and Mary Agnes May-who died While yet a child-Were you then there, and know? Wal. Old man, your eyes are wild. Stran. Oh, come ye waves! Rise up, ye raging floods, upon this house, Cover the guilty like the innocent! Walter, I am thine uncle, and thy wife,She is thy sister! Soph. Mercy! Heaven! (She falls down in a faint.) Em. (In his sleep.) Away, Black raven! Leave the nests in peace! Thou Satan, Begone! Wal. He dreams-the let-loose influences Of Hell disturb his rest; even on the spot Where his grandfather died. Boy! Hear! Awake! How did that proverb run? Em. Which was it? Wal. That Of darkness and of curses.- Em. "Whoso curseth his father or his mother, his lamp shall be extinguished in utter darkness." Wal. Uncle, hear'st thou ? The book of God arraigns me; and the Devil Already drags me by the hair! Em. (Seeing his mother.) Oh Heavens ! My mother!-Thou strange man! I charge thee, tell me, How did this come to pass? Lewis. Have patience, boy, To wake her senses but to the endurance Em. She is reviving Pray, mother, had you fallen? Soph. Aye, fallen indeed; Fallen deeply! Lewis. Silence, boy,-now rest a-while! Are you not better? Em. Surely, for her looks Are not so pale. Soph. Oh, I am well, my spirit May from the torments of eternity Em. Tell me,-what means my mother? Lewis. Oh never may'st thou know by sad experience! Em. Father! now tell me. Wal. 'Tis a riddle, boy! Em. What are the words? Let me but hear, and I Haply may find the interpretation. Wal. Thou If by our marriage we destroyed a father, Thou art still mine as ever, and more dearly Hast thou been won ! Soph. (weeping.) How could we know the truth? Wal. (with looks of insane determination.) Uncle, if Hell has sent thee that the world' May know this horrid tale, that but for thee Had been for evermore concealed, methinks It were no crime, if with this murderous steel, I seal'd it up in thy cold heart. Soph. (running to him.) Oh Walter ! Lewis. Nay, let him strike! I am prepared, (Walter retires, and lets fall the hanger.) From shores Far distant, to the dwelling of my fathers, A heartfelt longing brought me hither. Childless, And without pleasure, wealthy, here I sought, Surrounded by dear friends to end my days. But could I thus thine evil star propitiate, From thy hands gladly would I death re ceive! (He breaks the hanger, and throws it away.) The enemy is strong; and man is weak! Lewis. First, must I speak to him, Though he should kill me-Horst! 'tis not the laws Of man that judge thee! 'Tis the voice of God, That from thy father's tomb speaks fearful warning! He was a sinner; and it was the fruit The rolling of that wheel, that from the abyss But misinterpreted, drew me to Walter, Lewis. Wouldst thou incur, Like him, the punishment of untold sin? An evil deed the more it is conceal'd, Mark the dire chain,-adultery first, then curses, Oaths broken, and at last incestuous children! Soph. No more,-in pity! Lewis. In this world That man, by sinful passions moved, may Resolve on good or evil-Heaven bestows me Thro' the wild woods, now while the storm is raging, And of your crimes the knowledge and the memory With me shall perish. Choose, and I shall wait! SCENE VII. Wal. Soph. Emi. Exit. (The latter sitting in the back ground.) Soph. (after a deep stillness.) Can God desire a sacrifice like this? Walter, Could'st thou endure it,thine no more ! Our marriage may dissolve; but who shall The mighty bonds of Nature? Em. Had'st thou forgot Emilius, Is bold indeed-Walter-if thou should'st Thou art far more than man. Wal. How-thou desir'st Soph. Hear me in mine affliction !—Gliding round These obscure walls, our father's angry Compels me from this dwelling to depart, And holds me with a chain of adamant.- Wal. Where'er thine uncle alone : Not without me in this unlucky house! Oh! for the love of heaven, brother! allow Wal. Agnes thy wish Bears hard on me; and I have not the power Soph. Oh, let my sufferings move thee! Wal. My lamp is now extinguished-all Thou child of sorrow! say not no! around Is utter darkness. Soph. Of our father's death, Who can resist the will of Heaven ? Em. Wilt thou |