LORD IVON.

Ay! I saw

Th' indignant anger when her mother first
Broke the repulsive wish, and the degrees
Of shuddering reluctance as her mind

Admitted the intoxicating tales

Of wealth unlimited. And when she look'd
On my age-stricken features, and my form,
Wasted before its time, and turned away
To hide from me her tears, her very mother
Whispered the cursed comfort in her ear
That made her what she is!

Knowing all this!

ISIDORE.

You could not wed her,

LORD IVON.

I felt that I had lost

My life else. I had wrung, for forty years,
My frame to its last withers; I had flung

My boyhood s fire away-the energy

Of a most sinless youth—the toil, and fret,
And agony of manhood. I had dared,

Fought, suffered, slaved-and never for an hour
Forgot or swerved from my resolve; and now-
With the delirious draught upon my lips-

Dash down the cup!

ISIDORE.

Yet she had never wrong'd you!

LORD IVON.

Thou'rt pleading for thy mother, my sweet child!
And angels hear thee. But if she was wrong'd,

The sin be on the pride that sells its blood
Coldly and only for this damning gold.

Had I not offered youth first? Came I not

With my hands brimm'd with glory to buy loveAnd was I not denied?

ISIDORE.

Yet, dearest father,

They forced her not to wed?

LORD IVON.

I called her back

Myself from the church threshold, and, before.
Her mother and her kinsmen, bade her swear
It was her own free choice to marry me.

I showed her my shrunk hand, and bade her think
If that was like a bridegroom, and beware

Of perjuring her chaste and spotless soul,
If now she loved me not.

ISIDORE.

What said she, sir?

LORD IVON.

Oh! they had made her even as themselves;
And her young heart was colder than the slab
Unsunn'd beneath Pentelicus. She pressed
My withered fingers in her dewy clasp,
And smiled up in my face, and chid "

my lord"

For his wild fancies, and led on!

Misgiving at the altar?

ISIDORE.

And no

LORD IVON.

None! She swore

To love and cherish me till death should part us,

With a voice clear as mine.

In mercy tell me so!

ISIDORE.

And kept it, father!

LORD IVON.

She lives, my daughter!

Long ere my babe was born, my pride had ebb'd, And let my heart down to its better founts

Of tenderness.

I had no friends-not one!

My love gush'd to my wife. I rack'd my brain

E

To find her a new pleasure every hour—

Yet not with me-I fear'd to haunt her eye!
Only at night, when she was slumbering

In all her beauty, I would put away

The curtains till the pale night-lamp shone on her, And watch her through my tears.

One night her lips

Parted as I gazed on them, and the name
Of a young noble, who had been my guest,
Stole forth in broken murmurs. I let fall
The curtains silently, and left her there
To slumber and dream on; and gliding forth
Upon the terrace, knelt to my pale star,
And swore, that if it pleased the God of light
To let me look upon the unborn child

Lying beneath her heart, I would but press
One kiss upon its lips, and take away

The life that was a blight upon her years.

was that child!

ISIDORE: