Mer. Not time!

Beat out thy last voluptuous beat
Of hope and fear, my heart! I thought the clock
In the chapel struck as I was pushing thro'
The ferns. And so I shall no more see rise
My love-star! Oh, no matter for the past!
So much the more delicious task to see
Mildred revive: to pluck out, thorn by thorn,
All traces of the rough forbidden path

My rash love lured her too! Each day must see
Some fear of hers effaced, some hope renewed!

Then there will be surprises, unforeseen

Delights in store.

I'll not regret the past!

[The light is placed above in the purple pane.

And see, my signal rises! Mildred's star!

I never saw it lovelier than now

It rises for the last time! If it sets,

'Tis that the reassuring sun may dawn!

[As he prepares to ascend the last tree of the avenue, TRESHAM arrests his arm.

Unhand me-peasant, by your grasp! Here's gold.
'Twas a mad freak of mine. I said I'd pluck

A branch from the white-blossom'd shrub beneath
The casement there! Take this, and hold your peace.
Tresh. Into the moonlight yonder, come with me!
-Out of the shadow!

Mer.

Tresh.

I am armed, fool!

Or no? You'll come into the light, or no?
My hand is on your throat-refuse !—

Yes,

Mer.

That voice!

Where have I heard.. no-that was mild and slow.

Tresh. Oh, silent? Do you know, you bear yourself Exactly as, in curious dreams I've had

How felons, this wild earth is full of, look

When they're detected, still your kind has looked!
The bravo holds an assured countenance,

The thief is voluble and plausible,

But silently the slave of lust has crouched
When I have fancied it before a man!
Your name?

Mer.

I do conjure Lord Tresham-ay,

Kissing his foot, if so I might prevail—

That he for his own sake forbear to ask

My name! As Heaven's above, his future weal
Or woe depends upon my silence! Vain!

I read your white inexorable face!

Know me, Lord Tresham! [He throws off his disguises.

Tresh.

Mertoun !

Draw now!

Hear me

Not one least word on your life!

Be sure that I will strangle in your throat

The least word that informs me how you live

And yet seem what you seem! No doubt 'twas you
Taught Mildred still to keep that face and sin!
We should join hands in frantic sympathy
If you once taught me the unteachable,
Explained how you can live so, and so lie!
With God's help I retain, despite my sense,
The old belief-a life like yours is still
Impossible! Now draw!

Mer.

Not for my sake,

Do I entreat a hearing-for your sake,
And most, for her sake!

Tresh.

Ha, ha, what should I

Know of your ways? A miscreant like yourself,

How must one rouse his ire ?—A blow ?—that's pride No doubt, to him! one spurns him, does one not?

Or sets the foot upon his mouth-or spits

Into his face! Come-which, or all of these?

Mer. 'Twixt him, and me, and Mildred, Heaven be judge!

Can I avoid this? Have your will, my Lord!

Mer. Ah, Tresham, say I not "you'll hear me now!"

And what procures a man the right to speak

In his defence before his fellow-man,

But I suppose the thought that presently

He
may have leave to speak before his God
His whole defence?

Tresh.

Not hurt? It cannot be !
Where

You made no effort to resist me.

Did my sword reach you? Why not have returned
My thrusts? Hurt where?

Mer.

Tresh.

My lord

How young he is!

Mer. Lord Tresham, I am very young, and yet
I have entangled other lives with mine.
Do let me speak-and do believe my speech,
That when I die before you presently,―

Tresh. Can you stay here till I return with help?
Mer. Oh, stay by me! When I was less than boy
I did you grievous wrong, and knew it not-
Upon my honor, knew it not! Once known,
I could not find what seemed a better way
To right you than I took my life—you feel
How less than nothing had been giving you
The life you've taken! But I thought my way
The better-only for your sake and hers.
And as you have decided otherwise,

Would I had an infinity of lives

To offer you !—now say—instruct me—think!
Can you from out the minutes I have left
Eke out my reparation? Oh-think-think !
For I must wring a partial-dare I say,

Forgiveness from you, ere I die!

Because, if you forgive me, I shall hope

To speak to you of-Mildred!

Tresh.

And anger have undone us.

Mertoun,-haste

'Tis not you

Should tell me for a novelty you're young-
Thoughtless-unable to recall the past!
Be but your pardon ample as my own!

Mer. Ah, Tresham, that a sword-stroke and a drop
Of blood or two, should bring all this about!
Why, 'twas my very fear of you my love
Of you (what passion's like a boy's for one
Like you?)—that ruined me! I dreamed of you—
You, all accomplished, courted every where,
The scholar and the gentleman. I burned
To knit myself to you-but I was young,
And your surpassing reputation kept me
So far aloof-oh, wherefore all that love?
With less of love, my glorious yesterday
Of praise and gentle words and kindest looks,
Had taken place perchance six months ago!
Even now-
-how happy we had been! And yet
I know the thought of this escaped you, Tresham !
Let me look up into your face-I feel

"Tis changed above me-yet my eyes are glazed. Where? where?

[As he endeavors to raise himself, his eye catches the lamp. Ah, Mildred! What will Mildred do?

Tresham, her life is bound up in the life

That's bleeding fast away!—I'll live—must live,