Part 19 (1/2)

To love this man, I surely have become That which a Guzman ought to scorn to be.

Is he not, too, a Guzman, and my cousin?

Yet must he be renounced. Here let me kneel, Nor rise till I be freed of love and him.

(_Isidora kneels a short time in silence, and proceeds._)

Anselmo--Virgin holy, will no name But his rise from my wretched heart in pray'r?

Then let me bind myself by sacred vows: Record it, Heav'n!--Thus do I renounce----

_Enter Anselmo._

_Ans._----All sorrow, my beloved; for grief no more Shall worm its canker in our budding bliss.

(_Anselmo approaches her, she rises abruptly._)

_Isid._ Nay, touch me not--approach me not, Anselmo.

_Ans._ (_looking earnestly at her_). Isidora!

_Isid._ Holy Virgin, to thee I trust for strength In this my hour of peril. Anselmo, That look has reft a heart too fondly thine-- But only thine, henceforth, in holy love.

_Ans._ And is not all love holy? that the holiest, Which gushes from the springs of thy pure heart; So pure, that, laved by it, my spotted breast Shall shortly be as snow.

_Isid._ Hear me, Anselmo: It is ordain'd we meet no more.

_Ans._ And canst thou say those words? (_Kneels._) See, on the earth I grovelling kneel--my straining eyes seek thine: Turn, turn to me; say not those words again; Thou canst not, dearest.

_Isid._ (_her eyes still averted_). We must meet no more.

_Ans._ I'll not believe thy voice: look on me now One steady, one unflinching glance, and then If thou'lt repeat those words--I must believe.

(_Pause._) Averted still!--Oh, Isidora, who, Who pour'd such cruel thoughts into thy breast?

Was it a female fiend, or some vile priest, Some meddling, sin-absolving, canting priest?-- It was--that start declares it.--Curse him, curse him.

(_Rises._)

_Isid._ (_coming forward with dignity and fronting Anselmo._) Anselmo, curse him not. Thou art that priest.

[_Anselmo covers his face with his hand._]

My better angel hath my mind illumed-- Hath shown me thy past life. Thy heavy sins, In black array, hath weigh'd before mine eyes; That silent voice, which every bosom sways, Hath spoken deeply--bidden me abjure Him who mock'd all. That gentle voice hath said, That of us twain, immortal bliss alone Can crown the union; which to be obtain'd, Must on this earth be won by penance strict, Unceasing prayer, and thy resumed vows.

Is it not well, Anselmo----

_Ans._ Isidora, Are racking tortures well? is liquid fire Rus.h.i.+ng and bubbling through the burning veins, Until they shrivel, well? And is it well To find the angel, who hath borne your soul Half o'er the flaming abyss of the d.a.m.n'd, Shake it away, and feel it whirling sink To everlasting torments?--In bitter truth, These are but nought compared to the fell pangs Thy words have caused, which rack my tortured breast.

_Isid._ Anselmo, hear me!

_Ans._ Hear _me_ now in turn, By the soul I've perill'd, we must _not_ part!

Cast me but off, and Heav'n may do so too: Here stand I, Isidora, with one foot Upon Heaven's threshold, thou within the gates: Oh! call me to thee. I am Heaven's and thine: But, loose thy hand, and I will seek that h.e.l.l Which lies beneath. The deed be on thy head.

_Isid._ Oh! horrible, Anselmo--horrible!

_Ans._ Question me, Isidora. Where's the sin That, in thine eyes, demands such heavy penance?

_Isid._ The violated vow----