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some over-ready agent — he —— 120

      Ferdinand. Ah! what of him, my lord?

      Osorio. He proved a villain;

       Betray’d the mystery to a brother villain;

       And they between them hatch’d a damnéd plot

       To hunt him down to infamy and death

       To share the wealth of a most noble family, 125

       And stain the honour of an orphan lady

       With barbarous mixture and unnatural union.

       What did the Velez? I am proud of the name,

       Since he dared do it.

      [OSORIO grasps his sword and turns off from FERDINAND,

       then, after a pause, returns.

      Osorio. Our links burn dimly.

      Ferdinand. A dark tale darkly finish’d! Nay, my lord! 130

       Tell what he did.

      Osorio (fiercely). That which his wisdom prompted.

       He made the traitor meet him in this cavern,

       And here he kill’d the traitor.

      Ferdinand. No! — the fool.

       He had not wit enough to be a traitor.

       Poor thick-eyed beetle! not to have foreseen 135

       That he, who gull’d thee with a whimper’d lie

       To murder his own brother, would not scruple

       To murder thee, if e’er his guilt grew jealous

       And he could steal upon thee in the dark!

      Osorio. Thou would’st not then have come, if ——

      Ferdinand. O yes, my lord! 140

       I would have met him arm’d, and scared the coward!

      [FERDINAND throws off his robe, shows himself armed,

       and draws his sword.

      Osorio. Now this is excellent, and warms the blood!

       My heart was drawing back, drawing me back

       With womanish pulls of pity. Dusky slave,

       Now I will kill thee pleasantly, and count it 145

       Among my comfortable thoughts hereafter.

      Ferdinand. And all my little ones fatherless! Die thou first.

      [They fight. OSORIO disarms FERDINAND, and in disarming

       him, throws his sword up that recess, opposite to

       which they were standing.

      Ferdinand (springing wildly towards Osorio). Still I can strangle

       thee!

      Osorio. Nay, fool! stand off.

       I’ll kill thee — but not so! Go fetch thy sword.

      [FERDINAND hurries into the recess with his torch.

       OSORIO follows him, and in a moment returns

       alone.

      Osorio. Now — this was luck! No bloodstains, no dead body! 150

       His dream, too, is made out. Now for his friend.

      [Exit.

      SCENE changes to the court before the Castle of VELEZ.

      MARIA and her FOSTER-MOTHER.

      Maria. And when I heard that you desired to see me,

       I thought your business was to tell me of him.

      Foster-Mother. I never saw the Moor, whom you describe.

      Maria. ‘Tis strange! he spake of you familiarly 155

       As mine and Albert’s common foster-mother.

      Foster-Mother. Now blessings on the man, whoe’er he be,

       That join’d your names with mine! O my sweet lady,

       As often as I think of those dear times

       When you two little ones would stand at eve, 160

       On each side of my chair, and make me learn

       All you had learnt in the day; and how to talk

       In gentle phrase, then bid me sing to you,

       ‘Tis more like heaven to come, that what has been!

      Maria. O my dear mother! this strange man has left me 165

       Wilder’d with wilder fancies than yon moon

       Breeds in the love-sick maid — who gazes at it

       Till lost in inward vision, with wet eye

       She gazes idly! But that entrance, mother!

      Foster-Mother. Can no one hear? It is a perilous tale! 170

      Maria. No one.

      Foster-Mother. My husband’s father told it me,

       Poor old Leoni. Angels rest his soul!

       He was a woodman, and could fell and saw

       With lusty arm. You know that huge round beam

       Which props the hanging wall of the old chapel? 175

       Beneath that tree, while yet it was a tree,

       He found a baby wrapt in mosses, lined

       With thistle-beards, and such small locks of wool

       As hang on brambles. Well, he brought him home,

       And rear’d him at the then Lord Velez’ cost. 180

       And so the babe grew up a pretty boy.

       A pretty boy, but most unteachable —

       And never learnt a prayer, nor told a bead,

       But knew the names of birds, and mock’d their notes,

       And whistled, as he were a bird himself. 185

       And all the autumn ‘twas his only play

       To get the seeds of wild flowers, and to plant them

       With earth and water on the stumps of trees.

       A friar who gather’d simples in the wood,

       A grey-hair’d man — he loved this little boy, 190

       The boy loved him — and, when the friar taught him,

       He soon could write with the pen; and from that time

       Lived chiefly at the convent or the castle.

       So he became a very learned youth.

       But O! poor wretch — he read, and read, and read, 195

       Till his brain turn’d — and ere his twentieth year,

       He had unlawful thoughts of many things.

       And though he pray’d, he never loved to pray

       With holy men, nor in a holy place.

       But yet his speech, it was so soft and sweet, 200

       The late Lord Velez ne’er was wearied with him,

       And once as by the north side of the chapel

       They stood together, chain’d in deep discourse,

       The earth heav’d under them with such a groan,

       That the wall totter’d, and had well-nigh fall’n 205

       Right on their heads. My lord was sorely frighten’d;

       A fever seiz’d him; and he made confession

       Of all the heretical and lawless talk

       Which brought this judgment: so the youth was seiz’d

       And cast into that hole.

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