CECIL. Where is the General?—Where—Oh, Heaven! my Edith?
EDITH. Is there no welcome in that word? Am I
Unlooked for at thy coming?
CECIL. Pardon, Madam!
I—I—(_aside_) Oh, God! how bitter is this trial!
Why do I love her less? Why fall I not
At her dear feet? Why stand I thus amazed?
Is this not Edith? No! 'tis Cromwell's niece;
And Cromwell is the murtherer of my king!
EDITH. ‘Pardon’ and ‘madam!’—do I hear aright?
Art thou so cold? Do I offend thine eyes?
Thou turn'st away thy face! Well, Sir, 'tis well!
Hubert! still silent! (_In a softer voice_) Hubert!
CECIL. Oh, for grace!
For heaven's dear grace! speak not in that sweet tone!
Be not so like that shape that _was_ my Edith!
EDITH. (_Gazing upon him with surprise and anger, turns as if to quit
the stage, and then aside_)
Sure he is ill! Keen travail and the cares
Of these unhappy times have touched the string
Of the o'erlabored brain. And shall I chide him?
_I_ who should soothe? (_Approaches and aloud_) Art thou not well,
dear Hubert?
CECIL. Well! well! the leaping and exultant health
Which makes wild youth unconscious of its clay,
Deeming itself all soul; the golden chain
Which link'd that earth, our passions—with that heaven,
Our hopes—why _this_ was to be _well!_ But now
One black thought from the fountain of the heart
Gushes eternally, till all the streams
Of all the world are poisoned,—and the Past
Hath grown one death, whose grim and giant shadow
Makes that chill darkness which we call ‘_the Future!_’
Where are my dreams of glory? Where the fame
Unsullied by one stain of factious crime?
And where—oh where!—the ever dulcet voice
That murmured, in the star-lit nights of war,
When the loud camp lay hushed, _thy_ holy name?
Edith is mine no more! (_taking her hand_) Yet let me gaze
Again upon thee! No! thou art not changed
Ah! would thou wert! In that translucent cheek
The roses tremble, stirr'd as by an air,
With the pure impulse of thy summer soul—
On thy white brow chaste conscience sits serene—
There is no mark of blood on this fair hand—
Yet Cromwell is thy kinsman!
EDITH. By the vows
That we have plighted, look not on me thus!
Speak not so wildly! Hubert, I am Edith!
Edith!—thine own! oh! am I not thine own?
CECIL. My own!—my Edith! Yes, the evil deeds
Of that bold man cast forth no shade on thee,
Albeit they gloom the world as an eclipse
Whose darkness is the prophecy of doom!
EDITH. Hush! hush! What! know'st thou not these walls have ears?
Speak'st thou of Cromwell thus, upon whose nod
Hang life and death?
CECIL. But not the _fear_ of death!
EDITH. What change hath chanc'd, since last we met, to blot
Thy champion and thy captain from thy grace?
Why, when we parted, was not thy last word
In praise of Cromwell? Was he not the star
By which thy course was lighted? Nay, so glowed
His name upon thy lips, that I—ev'n I—
Was vexed to think thou'dst so much love to spare!
CECIL. Ah, there's the thought—the bitter, biting thought!
Boy that I was, I pinned my faith to Cromwell;
For him forsook my kin; renounced my home,
My father's blessing, and my mother's love;
Gave up my heart to him, my thoughts, my deeds,—
Reduced the fire and freedom of my youth
Into a mere machine—a thing to act
Or to be passive as its master wills;
On his broad banner I affixed my name—
My heritage of honor; blindly bound
My mark and station in the world's sharp eye
To the unequal chances of his sword!
But then methought it was a freeman's blade,
Drawn, but with sorrow, for a nation's weal!
EDITH. And was it not so, Hubert?
CECIL. Was it? What!
When (with no precedent, from all the Past—
That solemn armory for decorous Murther!)
Some two score men assumed a people's voice,
And sullied all the labors of long years,
The laurels of a war for equal laws,
By one most tragic outrage of all law!
Oh, in that stroke 'twas not the foe that fell!
'Twas we who fought!—the pillar of our cause;
The white unsullied honor of our arms;
The temperate justice that disdains revenge;
The rock of law, from which war's standard waved;—
The certainty of RIGHT;—'twas these that fell!
EDITH. Alas! I half foreboded this, and yet
Would listen not to fear. But, Hubert, I—
If there be sin in that most doubtful deed—
_I_ have not shared the sin.
CECIL. No, Edith, no!
But the sin severs us! Will Cromwell give
The hand of Edith to his foe?
EDITH. His foe!
What madness, Hubert! In the gloomy past
Bury the wrong thy wrath cannot undo;
Think but in what the future can repair it.
CECIL. I do so, Edith; and, upon that thought,
I built the wall 'twixt Cromwell and my soul. {608}
The king is dead—but not the race of kings;
There is a second Charles! Oh, Edith, yet—
Yet may our fates be joined! Beyond the seas
Lives my lost honor—lie my only means
To prove me guiltless of this last bad deed!
Beyond the seas, oh, let our vows be plighted!
Fly with thy Cecil!—quit these gloomy walls,
These whited sepulchres, these hangman saints!
Beyond the seas, oh! let me find my bride,
Regain my honor, and record my love!
EDITH. Alas! thou know'st not what thou say'st. The land
Is lined with Cromwell's favorers. Not a step
But his eye reads the whereabout. From hence
Thou couldst not 'scape with life, nor I with honor!
CECIL. Ah, Edith, rob not Heaven of every star!
From home, and England, and ambition banished—
Banish me not from _thee_!
EDITH. What shall I say?
How act—where turn? Thy lightest word hath been
My law—my code of right; and now thou askest
That which can never be.
CECIL. Recall the word!
There's but one ‘never’ for the tongue of Love,
And that should be for parting—_never part_.
Oh, learn no other ‘never.’
EDITH. Must thou leave me?
Must thou leave England—thy old friends in arms—
The cause of Freedom—thy brave spirit's hope?
Must thou leave these? Is there no softer choice?
CECIL. None other—none!
EDITH. So honor bids thee act;
So honor conquers love! And is there, then,
No honor but for man? Bethink thee, Hubert,
Could I, unblushing, leave my kinsman's home,
The guardian of my childhood—the kind roof
Where no harsh thought e'er entered? For whate'er
Cromwell to others, he to me hath been
A more than parent. In his rudest hour
For me he wore no frown; no chilling word
Bade me remember that I had no father!
Shall I repay him thus:—desert his hearth
In his most imminent hour; betroth my faith
To one henceforth his foe; make my false home
With those who call him traitor; plight my hand
To him who wields a sword against his heart?—
That heart which sheltered me!—oh, never, Hubert!
If thou lov'st honor, love it then in Edith,
And plead no more.
(_enter Servant_)
SERVANT. The General hath sent word
That, just released from council, he awaits
Sir Hubert Cecil at Whitehall.
CECIL. I come!
(_exit Servant_)
So fare thee well!
EDITH. (_passionately_) Farewell!—and is that all?
And part we thus forever? Not unkindly?
Thou dost not love me less? Oh, say so, Hubert!
Turn not away; give me once more thine hand.
We loved each other from our childhood, Hubert;
We grew together; thou wert as my brother,
Till that name grew a dearer. I should seem
More cold—more distant; but I cannot. All
Pride, strength, reserve, desert me at this hour!
My heart will break! Tell me thou lov'st me still!
CECIL. Still, Edith, still!
EDITH. I'm answered—bless thee, Hubert!
One word! one parting word! For my sake, dearest,
Rein thy swift temper when thou speakest to Cromwell.
A word may chafe him from his steady mood
In these wild moments; and behind his wrath
There gleams the headsman's axe. Vex him not, Hubert!
CECIL. Fear not! This meeting hath unmanned my soul,
Swallowed up all the fierceness of my nature
As in a gulf! and he—this man of blood—
He hath been kind to thee! Nay fear not, Edith!
(_exit Cecil_)
EDITH. He's gone! O God support me! I have done
That which became thy creature. Give me strength!
A mountain crushes down this feeble heart;
Oh, give me strength to bear it, gentle Heaven!
(_exit_)