Part 24 (1/2)

Doth he? _'Tis he!_

_Mait_. Helen!

_Helen_. 'Tis he! That tone's spell builds around me its all-sheltering music-walls, and death is nothing. Oh G.o.d, when at thy dark will dimly revealed, I trembled yesterday, I did not think in this most rosy bower to meet its fearfulness.

_Mait_. Helen,--dost thou love me _yet_?

_Helen_. Doubter, am I dying here?

_Mait_. 'Tis her own most rich and blessed smile, even as of old in mirth it shone upon me. Your murderer, you count me then?

_Helen_. Come hither,--let me lean on _you_. Star of the wilderness!--of this life that is fading now, the sun!--_doth_ mine eye see thee, then, at last? Oh! this is sweet! On its own holy home my head rests now.

Everard, in this dark world _Love leans on Faith_. How else, even in G.o.d's love and loveliness, could I trust now for that strange future on whose b.l.o.o.d.y threshold I am lying here; yes, and in spite of prayers and trust, and struggling hopes. And yet--how beautiful it is--that love invisible, invisible no more. Like glorious suns.h.i.+ne it is streaming round me,--lighting all. The infinite of that thy smile hath imaged, as real,--it beams on me now. Have faith, in _him_ I mean; for--if we meet again--we'll need it then no more; and--how dim it grows--nay, let me lean on you,--and--through _this_ life's darkening gla.s.s I shall see you no more. Nay, hold me!--quick!--where art thou?--Everard!--He is gone--gone!

_Lady A_. Dead!--

_Mor_. She is dead!

_Andre_. This was Love.

_Lady A_. See how her eyes are fixed on _you_. The light and love of the vanished soul looks through them still. Cruelly hath it been sent thence; and no other gleam of its changeful beauty will e'er dawn in them. Sadly, oh lovely stranger, I close for ever now these dark-fringed lids upon their love and beauty. Yes--_this_ was love!

_Andre_. And so there was a need-be in its doom. I'll ne'er believe _that_ genuine, that is blessed. The fate of this life would not suffer it. Ah! if it would, if Heaven should leave a gem like that outside her walls, we should none of us go thither.

_Mait_. Dead? How beautiful! Yes--let her lie there--under that lovely canopy. Dead!--it's a curious word--How comes it that we all stand here?

Ha, Andre?--is it you?

_Andre_. I heard the tale as I crossed just now, from an Indian, who was one in the ambuscade this noon--and in the woods on the other side, I found this lady, with her attendants, abiding the promise she made you last night, to welcome this lovely stranger with her savage guides.

_Mait_. Hush, hush. Let it pa.s.s. See,--a bride!

_Mor_. (_Aside_.) Did he trust her with these murderers?

_Mait_. Ay--say yes.

_Andre_. Indeed, Maitland, you wrong yourself. It was the treachery of this savage Manida that crossed your plans, working the mission of some Higher power,--as for Alaska, you might as soon have doubted me.

The Chief he sent for her was one he had known years--but, unfortunately, he was one in the ambuscade this morning--nay, the leader of it; for the murdered Indian was his son; and meanwhile amid the fight the treacherous Manida, who accompanied him to Maitland's tent last night, and heard the promised reward, found means to steal from its concealment the letter, with which he easily won this trusting lady to accompany him.

_Mor_. Ah!--there it lies.

_Andre_. It was here in this glen that Alaska, discovering the treachery, lay in wait for them with a band of chosen warriors, and on that cliff above they fought.

_Lady A_. (_Aside_.) And she stood there, amid those yelling demons alone! Methinks the angels should have come from their unseen dwellings at her prayer. Can our humanity's darkest extremity wring no love from the invisible?--

_Andre_. Alaska had regained his charge; but the malignant eye, and the deadly arrow of the vanquished Indian followed her. She fell, even in the place where you found her; for at that same instant a party from the fort drove them hence, victor and vanquished. Alaska fled; but the murderer, with a tale cunning enough to deceive the lover, boldly demanded and obtained the prize.

_Mor_. Mark his changed mien. I would rather see tears for a grief like this, than that calm smile with which he gazes on her now.

(_Burgoyne and St. Leger are seen talking in the road above,--they enter the glen_.)

_Bur_. At a crisis like this we might better have lost a thousand men in battle! Ah! ah!--a sight for our enemies, Lady Ackland! Where is this Indian?