Enter GASPARD.

GASPARD.

Joy to ye, lady mine! May I intrude
Upon your meditations?

Lucinda.

You are right welcome, sir.

Haply you can direct me to some clue,
Or guide me through the labyrinth I'm lost in.
GASPARD.

Your radiant eye, fair lady,

Like some foretokening meteor hath involved
My heart amid such maze, that more I need
A hand to lead me o'er the wildering path,
Than proffer to assist ye.

LUCINDA.

This is ill-timed.-He's handsome, I protest; [Aside. Well-mannered too, and no doubt richly gifted. GASPARD.

"Tis truth at least.

But wherein can I serve you?

LUCINDA.

Lend me, sir,

Your best attention. You have heard 'tis likely
Of the dark crime, which is preferred against

The noble Gaston-I'd still call him so.

Why do you start and tremble? you have heard it?

GASPARD.

Ay, and in agony of heart have seen

The cursed proofs, that do proclaim him murderer
In will, if not in act.

LUCINDA.

Say you? 19

Proofs! then there are proofs? Merciful heaven, whe
Will trust the faith of man! It is but as

The smooth clear waters, on which sunbeams fall,
Gilding the crystal surface. We survey
Our images reflected; when we smile,
They too seem smiling; and if we should weep,
Dissembling tears reciprocate our griefs,
And wean us from despair: but if we trust

The lovely promise which the shadow yields,
And clasp it to our hearts-alas! it flies;

The gurgling waters open to devour,

And down, down sinks the wretch; perchance with all Her load of frailties weighing her to death!

Poor Isabel!

GASPARD.

Faith, not unlikely!—

[Aside,

This is severity, not justice, lady;

And I much wronged therein. Sure ye exempt
Your truest servant from the opprobrious charge-
Do ye not, mistress ?20

LUCINDA.

As he may prove-But why

Talk you to me of this? I would hear that

Which now concerns us nearer; by what means

This thing became apparent, and for what
It was engaged in, so ye can bewray it.21
GASPARD.

Unhappily, too well!

'Twas my sad fortune to be near the earl,
And witness to the sorrowful disclosure;
To mark the tear run down his manly cheek,
And the deep sob that swelled his noble heart
Almost to breaking. For, was not this man
One whom he fondly loved? his heir, his hope,
His all, that beneath heaven he proudly cherished!
Was he not most indulgent to his child?

Lived he not wholly for him? Then, that he
Should thus contrive his death; that by his hand
Destruction should be subtly wrought, was base,
Was barbarous; it was the very pitch
Of black ingratitude!

LUCINDA.

You may spare your moralizing.

All this I can conceive, sir-not forget

That he is still your brother.

To have run beyond the mark; as yet, perchance

All's well. Beseech ye, pardon, madam; 'tis
My detestation of the crime, and not
Forgetfulness of him who acted it.

I feel he is my brother, was my friend,
Attached to me by every sacred tie,
And bitterly lament his falling off

From virtue. But calling back to memory
The anguish of my father, then his anger,
And knew how deeply his concern was in it,
Perhaps my passion put too strong a color
Upon the heinousness of such a deed.
I do beseech your pardon.

LUCINDA.

Nay, now you have placed

Too hard construction on my obvious meaning.
I have not thought offence. Pray ye, continue.
GASPARD.

I am bound to obey ye.

What first gave reason to suspect, the earl
Will not communicate; but if I may

Hazard a bare conjecture, I do think

'Twas that old steward-how is't that you

name him?

Sure you mistake: still he is much his friend.

GASPARD.

I take your word-loth were I to take his.

But this is from the purpose. Some suspicion
The earl had doubtless, and it was on that
He acted. Gaston appeared before him,
After long quest, and many messages
Commanding his appearance. There did seem
I know not what of guilty consciousness

Visible in his look. And when my lord
Addressed him, the red token spread like fire
Along his cheeks; but what-oh, what might be
The burning in his heart, when from its covert,
Dragged by the impetuous earl, there came to light
A scrip full stored with powder-I should say
With deadly aconite! 22

Support me, heaven!

LUCINDA.

GASPARD.

The hand of heaven was in it; but it seemed
The power of chance for by a narrow cord
The means of death suspended; and it lay
Upon the breast, close to his hollow heart.
The cord hung loose, so (as I said) by heaven
Ordained; and, where the vesture was conjoined,
Verging upon the waist, it caught the eye!

LUCINDA.

'Tis fearfully surprising. Tell me further,
How 'twas discovered to be poison, since
There may be powders wholly innocent-
Medicinal drugs, whose operation 's happy:
Nay, such is poison, well administered!
And how, moreover, was it known to be
Intended for the earl? These things disturb,
And leave me much in doubt.

GASPARD.

Your questions are important,

But, alas! too easily replied to!

The earl's large wolf-dog, whom, for strength of limb