- there,

Our wanderings together. Providence
At length conducted us to Rossland,
Our melancholy story moved a stranger
To take thee to her home; and for myself,
Soon after, the good Abbot of St. Cuthbert's
Supplied my helplessness with food and raiment,
And, as thou know'st, gave me that humble Cot
Where now we dwell. - For many years I bore
Thy absence, till old age and fresh infirmities
Exacted thy return, and our reunion.

I did not think that, during that long absence,
My Child, forgetful of the name of Herbert,
Had given her love to a wild Freebooter,
Who here, upon the borders of the Tweed,
Doth prey
alike on two distracted countries,
Traitor to both.

Idon.

Oh, could you hear his voice!

I will not call on Heaven to vouch for me,
But let this kiss speak what is in my heart.

Enter a Peasant.

Pea. Good morrow, Strangers! If you want a

Guide,

Let me have leave to serve you!

Idon.

My companion

Hath need of rest; the sight of hut or hostel

Would be most welcome.

Pea.

Yon white hawthorn gained,

You will look down into a dell, and there

Will see an ash from which a sign-board hangs ; The house is hidden by the shade. Old Man,

You seem worn out with travel,-shall I support

you?

Her. I thank you; but, a resting-place so near, T were wrong to trouble you.

Pea.

God speed you both.

[Exit Peasant.

Her. Idonea, we must part. Be not alarmed 'Tis but for a few days a thought has struck me.

Idon. That I should leave you at this house, and

thence

Proceed alone. It shall be so; for strength Would fail you ere our journey's end be reached. [Exit HERBERT supported by IDONEA.

Re-enter MARMADUKE and OSWALD.

Mar. This instant will we stop him

Osw.

Be not hasty,

For, sometimes, in despite of my conviction,
He tempted me to think the story true;
'Tis plain he loves the Maid, and what he said
That savored of aversion to thy name

Appeared the genuine color of his soul,

Anxiety lest mischief should befall her

After his death.

Mar.

I have been much deceived.

Osw. But sure he loves the Maiden, and never

love

Could find delight to nurse itself so strangely,

Thus to torment her with inventions!

There must be truth in this.

Mar.

- death

Truth in his story!

He must have felt it then, known what it was,
And in such wise to rack her gentle heart
Had been tenfold cruelty.

Osw.

Strange pleasures

Do we poor mortals cater for ourselves!
To see him thus provoke her tenderness
With tales of weakness and infirmity!
I'd wager on his life for twenty years.

Mar. We will not waste an hour in such a cause. Osw. Why, this is noble! shake her off at once. Mar. Her virtues are his instruments.-A Man Who has so practised on the world's cold sense May well deceive his Child. What! leave her thus,

A prey to a deceiver?

'Tis but a word and then

Osw.

Something is here

More than we see, or whence this strong aversion? Marmaduke! I suspect unworthy tales

Have reached his ear; you have had enemies.

Mar. Enemies! - Of his own coinage.

Osw.

That may be,

But wherefore slight protection such as you

Have power to yield? perhaps he looks elsewhere.-

I am perplexed.

Mar.

Osw. No no

tery;

What hast thou heard or seen?

the thing stands clear of mys

(As you have said) he coins himself the slander With which he taints her ear;-for a plain reason; He dreads the presence of a virtuous man

Like you; he knows your eye would search his heart, Your justice stamp upon his evil deeds

The punishment they merit. All is plain :

It cannot be

Mar.

Osw.

What cannot be?

Yet that a Father

Should in his love admit no rivalship,

And torture thus the heart of his own Child-
Mar. Nay, you abuse my friendship!
Osw.
Heaven forbid!
There was a circumstance, trifling indeed
It struck me at the time—yet I believe
I never should have thought of it again

But for the scene which we by chance have wit

nessed.

Mar. What is your meaning?

Osw.

Two days gone

I saw,

Though at a distance and he was disguised,

Hovering round Herbert's door, a man whose fig

ure

Resembled much that cold voluptuary,

The villain, Clifford. He hates you, and he knows Where he can stab you deepest.

Mar.

Clifford never

Would stoop to skulk about a cottage door,

It could not be.

Osw.

And yet I now remember,

That, when your praise was warm upon my tongue, And the blind Man was told how you had rescued A maiden from the ruffian violence

Of this same Clifford, he became impatient
And would not hear me.

I dare not trust myself with such a thought
Yet whence this strange aversion? You are a man
Not used to rash conjectures

Osw.

If you deem it

A thing worth further notice, we must act

With caution, sift the matter artfully.

[Exeunt MARMADUKE and OSWALD.

SCENE, the door of the Hostel.

HERBERT, IDONEA, and Host.

Her. (seated.) As I am dear to you, remember,

Child!

This last request.

Idon.

You know me, Sire; farewell!

Her. And are you going then? Come, come,

Idonea,

and now

We must not part, -I have measured many a league
When these old limbs had need of rest,
I will not play the sluggard."

Idon.

Nay, sit down.
[Turning to Host.

Good Host, such tendence as you would expect From your own children, if yourself were sick, Let this old Man find at your hands; poor Leader,

[Looking at the dog. We soon shall meet again. If thou neglect