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Thy infant loves — should not thy maiden vows,

       Have come upon my heart? And this sweet image

       Tied round my neck with many a chaste endearment 310

       And thrilling hands, that made me weep and tremble.

       Ah, coward dupe! to yield it to the miscreant

       Who spake pollutions of thee!

       I am unworthy of thy love, Maria!

       Of that unearthly smile upon those lips, 315

       Which ever smil’d on me! Yet do not scorn me.

       I lisp’d thy name ere I had learnt my mother’s!

      Enter MAURICE.

      Albert. Maurice! that picture, which I painted for thee,

       Of my assassination.

      Maurice. I’ll go fetch it.

      Albert. Haste! for I yearn to tell thee what has pass’d. 320

      [MAURICE goes out.

      Albert (gazing at the portrait). Dear image! rescued from a

       traitor’s keeping,

       I will not now prophane thee, holy image!

       To a dark trick! That worst bad man shall find

       A picture which shall wake the hell within him,

       And rouse a fiery whirlwind in his conscience! 325

      END OF ACT THE SECOND.

      [Before 1]

      A wild and mountainous Country. ORDONIO and ISIDORE are discovered,

       supposed at a little distance from Isidore’s house.

      Ord. Here we may stop: your house distinct in view,

       Yet we secured from listeners.

      Isid. Now indeed

       My house! and it looks cheerful as the clusters

       Basking in sunshine on yon vine-clad rock

       That overbrows it! Patron! Friend! Preserver!

       Thrice have you sav’d my life.

      Remorse.

      [Between 24 and 26]

      Why you can utter with a solemn gesture

       Oracular sentences of deep no-meaning

      Remorse.

       in their place, as here, in MSS. II, III, and in Remorse.

      And such do love the marvellous too well

       Not to believe it. We will wind up her fancy

      Remorse.

      [Between 40 and 41]

      Isid. Will that be a sure sign?

      Ord. Beyond suspicion.

       Fondly caressing him, her favour’d lover,

       (By some base spell he had bewitched her senses.)

       She whisper’d such dark fears of me forsooth,

       As made this heart pour gall into my veins,

       And as she coyly bound it round his neck,

       She made him promise silence; and now holds

       The secret of the existence of this portrait

       Known only to her lover and herself.

       But I had traced her, stolen unnotic’d on them,

       And unsuspected saw and heard the whole.

      Remorse.

      [Between 50 and 53]

      Return’d, yourself, and she, and the honour of both

       Must perish. Now though with no tenderer scruples

       Than those which being native to the heart,

       Than those, my lord, which merely being a man —

      Remorse.

      Stage-direction before 53 om. Remorse.

      These doubts, these fears, thy whine, thy stammering —

       Pish, fool! thou blund’rest through the book of guilt

      Remorse.

      [After 63] Ord. Virtue — Remorse.

      [After 117] Ord. (starts). A gust, &c. Remorse.

      [Between 125 and 140.]

      Isidore. They’ll know my gait: but stay! last night I watched

       A stranger near the ruin in the wood,

       Who as it seemed was gathering herbs and wild flowers.

       I had followed him at distance, seen him scale

       Its western wall, and by an easier entrance

       Stole after him unnoticed. There I marked,

       That mid the chequer work of light and shade,

       With curious choice he plucked no other flowers,

       But those on which the moonlight fell: and once

       I heard him muttering o’er the plant. A wizard —

       Some gaunt slave prowling here for dark employment.

      Ordonio. Doubtless you question’d him?

      Isidore. ‘Twas my intention,

       Having first traced him homeward to his haunt.

       But lo! the stern Dominican, whose spies

       Lurk everywhere, already (as it seemed)

       Had given commission to his apt familiar

       To seek and sound the Moor; who now returning,

       Was by this trusty agent stopped midway.

       I, dreading fresh suspicion if found near him

       In that lone place, again concealed myself;

       Yet within hearing. So the Moor was question’d,

       And in your name, as lord of this domain,

       Proudly he answered, ‘Say to the Lord Ordonio,

      Remorse.

      [Between 158 and 205:]

      Ordonio (in retiring stops suddenly at the edge of the scene, and

       then turning round to ISIDORE). Ha! Who lurks there! Have we been

       overheard?

       There where the smooth high wall of slate-rock glitters ——

      Isidore. ‘Neath those tall stones, which propping each the other,

       Form a mock portal with their pointed arch?

       Pardon my smiles! ‘Tis a poor idiot boy,

       Who sits in the sun, and twirls a bough about,

       His weak eyes seeth’d in most unmeaning tears.

       And so he sits, swaying his cone-like head,

       And, staring at his bough from morn to sun-set,

       See-saws his voice in inarticulate noises.

      Ordonio. ‘Tis well! and now for this same wizard’s lair.

      Isidore. Some three strides up the hill, a mountain ash

       Stretches its lower boughs and scarlet clusters

       O’er the old thatch.

      Ordonio. I shall not fail to find it.

      [Exeunt ORDONIO and ISIDORE.

SCENE II.

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