We were alone: the purple hue of dawn Hadst thou seen How in each motion her most innocent soul Beam'd forth and brighten'd, thou thyself wouldst tell me, Guilt is a thing impossible in her! She must be innoccnt! Zul. (with a sigh). Proceed, my Lord! Alv. A portrait which she had procured by stealth (For ever then it seems her heart foreboded, Or knew Ordonio's moody rivalry), A portrait of herself, with thrilling hand, She tied around my neck, conjuring me With earnest prayers, that I would keep it sacred Till she had won a solemn promise from me, Till my return. Yet this the assassin knew, Knew that which none but she could have disclosed. Zul. A damning proof! Alv. My own life wearied me! With mine own hand I had thrown off the burthen. In death-like trance: a long imprisonment follow'd. Waned to a me1itative melancholy; And still, the more I mused, my soul became Zul. All, all are in the sea-cave, Some furlong hence. I bade our mariners Secrete the boat there. Alv. Of the assassination— Zul. Above all, the picture Be assured Thus disguised, That it remains uninjured. Alv. I will first seek to meet Ordonio's-wife! If possible, alone too. This was her wonted walk, And this the hour; her words, her very looks Will acquit her or convict. Zul. Will they not know you? Alv. With your aid, friend, I shall unfearingly Trust the disguise; and as to my complexion, My long imprisonment, the scanty food, This scar, and toil beneath a burning sun, Have done already half the business for us. Add too my youth, when last we saw each other. Manhood has swoln my chest, and taught my voice A hoarser note-Besides, they think me dead: And what the mind believes impossible, The bodily sense is slow to recognize. Zul. 'T is yours, Sir, to command; mine to obev. Now to the cave beneath the vaulted rock, Where having shaped you to a Moorish chieftain, Voices at a distance! Let us away! SCENE II. [Exeunt. Enter TERESA and VALdez. Ter. I hold Ordonio dear; he is your son And Alvar's brother. Val. Love him for himself, Nor make the living wretched for the dead. Ter. I mourn that you should plead in vain, Lord Valdez; But heaven hath heard my vow, and I remain Faithful to Alvar, be he dead or living. Val. Heaven knows with what delight I saw your loves, And could my heart's blood give him back to thee, With that same look, with which he gave thee to me; I must not see thee wretched. Ter. There are woes Ill-burter'd for the garishness of joy! If it be wretched with an untired eye To watch those skiey tints, and this green ocean; And o'er the smooth spring in the mountain cleft To trick out mine own death-bed, and imagine That eats away the life, what were it, think you, He should return, and see a brother's infant Here Valdez bends back, and smiles at her wildness, which Teresa noticing, checks her enthusiasm, and in a soothing half-playful tone and manner, apologizes for her fancy, by the little tale in the parerthesis. Oh, what a thought! [Clasping her forehead Val. A thought? even so! mere thought! an empty thought. The very week he promised his return Ter. (abruptly). Was it not then a busy joy to see him After those three years' travels? we had no fears- Val. O power of youth to feed on pleasant thoughts, Spite of conviction! I am old and heartless! Yes, I am old-I have no pleasant fancies- Ter. (with great tenderness) My father! Val. The sober truth is all too much for me! I see no sail which brings not to my mind The home-bound bark in which my son was captured By the Algerine-to perish with his captors! Ter. Oh no! he did not! Val. From yon hill point, nay, from our castle watch-tower Captured in sight of land! His capture, not his death. We might have seen—— Ter. Val. Alas! how aptly thou forgett'st a tale Thou ne'er didst wish to learn! my brave Ordonio Saw both the pirate and his prize go down, In the same storm that baffled his own valor, And thus twice snatch'd a brother from his hopes: Gallant Ordonio! (pauses; then tenderly). O beloved Teresa ! Wouldst thou best prove thy faith to generous Aivar, And most delight his spirit, go, make thou His brother happy, make his aged father |