ACT III

Scene I—The end of the Yew-tree Avenue under Mildred’s Window. A light seen through a central red pane.

Enter Tresham through the trees

Tresham

Again here! But I cannot lose myself.

The heath—the orchard—I have traversed glades

And dells and bosky paths which used to lead

Into green wild-wood depths, bewildering

My boy’s adventurous step. And now they tend

Hither or soon or late; the blackest shade

Breaks up, the thronged trunks of the trees ope wide,

And the dim turret I have fled from, fronts

Again my step; the very river put

Its arm about me and conducted me

To this detested spot. Why then, I’ll shun

Their will no longer: do your will with me!

Oh, bitter! To have reared a towering scheme

Of happiness, and to behold it razed,

Were nothing: all men hope, and see their hopes

Frustrate, and grieve awhile, and hope anew.

But I… to hope that from a line like ours

No horrid prodigy like this would spring,

Were just as though I hoped that from these old

Confederates against the sovereign day,

Children of older and yet older sires,

Whose living coral berries dropped, as now

On me, on many a baron’s surcoat once,

On many a beauty’s whimple—would proceed

No poison-tree, to thrust, from hell its root,

Hither and thither its strange snaky arms.

Why came I here? What must I do?

[A bell strikes

A bell?

Midnight! and ’tis at midnight… Ah, I catch

—Woods, river, plains, I catch your meaning now,

And I obey you! Hist! This tree will serve.

[He retires behind one of the trees. After a pause, enter Mertoun cloaked as before

Mertoun

Not time! Beat out thy last voluptuous beat

Of hope and fear, my heart! I thought the clock

I’ the chapel struck as I was pushing through

The ferns. And so I shall no more see rise

My love-star! Oh, no matter for the past!

So much the more delicious task to watch

Mildred revive: to pluck out, thorn by thorn,

All traces of the rough forbidden path

My rash love lured her to! Each day must see

Some fear of hers effaced, some hope renewed:

Then there will be surprises, unforeseen

Delights in store. I’ll not regret the past.

[The light is placed above in the purple pane

And see, my signal rises, Mildred’s star!

I never saw it lovelier than now

It rises for the last time. If it sets,

’Tis that the re-assuring sun may dawn.

[As he prepares to ascend the last tree of the avenue, Tresham arrests his arm.

Unhand me—peasant, by your grasp! Here’s gold.

’Twas a mad freak of mine. I said I’d pluck

A branch from the white-blossomed shrub beneath

The casement there. Take this, and hold your peace.

Tresham

Into the moonlight yonder, come with me!

Out of the shadow!

Mertoun

I am armed, fool!

Tresham

Yes,

Or no? You’ll come into the light, or no?

My hand is on your throat—refuse!—

Mertoun

That voice!

Where have I heard… no—that was mild and slow.

I’ll come with you.

[They advance

Tresham

You’re armed: that’s well. Declare

Your name: who are you?

Mertoun

(Tresham!—she is lost!)

Tresham

Oh, silent? Do you know, you bear yourself

Exactly as, in curious dreams I’ve had

How felons, this wild earth is full of, look

When they’re detected, still your kind has looked!

The bravo holds an assured countenance,

The thief is voluble and plausible,

But silently the slave of lust has crouched

When I have fancied it before a man.

Your name!

Mertoun

I do conjure Lord Tresham—ay,

Kissing his foot, if so I might prevail—

That he for his own sake forbear to ask

My name! As heaven’s above, his future weal

Or woe depends upon my silence! Vain!

I read your white inexorable face.

Know me, Lord Tresham!

[He throws off his disguises

Tresham

Mertoun!

[After a pause

Draw now!

Mertoun

Hear me

But speak first!

Tresham

Not one least word on your life!

Be sure that I will strangle in your throat

The least word that informs me how you live

And yet seem what you seem! No doubt ’twas you

Taught Mildred still to keep that face and sin.

We should join hands in frantic sympathy

If you once taught me the unteachable,

Explained how you can live so and so lie.

With God’s help I retain, despite my sense,

The old belief—a life like yours is still

Impossible. Now draw!

Mertoun

Not for my sake,

Do I entreat a hearing—for your sake,

And most, for her sake!

Tresham

Ha, ha, what should I

Know of your ways? A miscreant like yourself,

How must one rouse his ire? A blow?—that’s pride

No doubt, to him! One spurns him, does one not?

Or sets the foot upon his mouth, or spits

Into his face! Come! Which, or all of these?

Mertoun

’Twixt him and me and Mildred, Heaven be judge!

Can I avoid this? Have your will, my lord!

[He draws and, after a few passes, falls

Tresham

You are not hurt?

Mertoun

You’ll hear me now!

Tresham

But rise!

Mertoun

Ah, Tresham, say I not “you’ll hear me now!”

And what procures a man the right to speak

In his defence before his fellow man,

But—I suppose—the thought that presently

He may have leave to speak before his God

His whole defence?

Tresham

Not hurt? It cannot be!

You made no effort to resist me. Where

Did my sword reach you? Why not have returned

My thrusts? Hurt where?

Mertoun

My lord—

Tresham

How young he is!

Mertoun

Lord Tresham, I am very young, and yet

I have entangled other lives with mine.

Do let me speak, and do believe my speech!

That when I die before you presently,—

Tresham

Can you stay here till I return with help?

Mertoun

Oh, stay by me! When I was less than boy

I did you grievous wrong and knew it not—

Upon my honour, knew it not! Once known,

I could not find what seemed a better way

To right you than I took: my life—you feel

How less than nothing were the giving you

The life you’ve taken! But I thought my way

The better—only for your sake and hers:

And as you have decided otherwise,

Would I had an infinity of lives

To offer you! Now say—instruct me—think!

Can you, from the brief minutes I have left,

Eke out my reparation? Oh think—think!

For I must wring a partial—dare I say,

Forgiveness from you, ere I die?

Tresham

I do

Forgive you.

Mertoun

Wait and ponder that great word!

Because, if you forgive me, I shall hope

To speak to you of—Mildred!

Tresham

Mertoun, haste

And anger have undone us. ’Tis not you

Should tell me for a novelty you’re young,

Thoughtless, unable to recall the past.

Be but your pardon ample as my own!

Mertoun

Ah, Tresham, that a sword-stroke and a drop

Of blood or two, should bring all this about!

Why, ’twas my very fear of you, my love

Of you—(what passion like a boy’s for one

Like you?)—that ruined me! I dreamed of you—

You, all accomplished, courted everywhere,

The scholar and the gentleman. I burned

To knit myself to you: but I was young,

And your surpassing reputation kept me

So far aloof! Oh, wherefore all that love?

With less of love, my glorious yesterday

Of praise and gentlest words and kindest looks,

Had taken place perchance six months ago.

Even now, how happy we had been! And yet

I know the thought of this escaped you, Tresham!

Let me look up into your face; I feel

’Tis changed above me: yet my eyes are glazed.

Where? where?

[As he endeavours to raise himself, his eye catches the lamp

Ah, Mildred! What will Mildred do?

Tresham, her life is bound up in the life

That’s bleeding fast away! I’ll live—must live,

There, if you’ll only turn me I shall live

And save her! Tresham—oh, had you but heard!

Had you but heard! What right was yours to set

The thoughtless foot upon her life and mine,

And then say, as we perish, “Had I thought,

All had gone otherwise”? We’ve sinned and die;

Never you sin, Lord Tresham! for you’ll die,

And God will judge you.

Tresham

Yes, be satisfied!

That process is begun.

Mertoun

And she sits there

Waiting for me! Now, say you this to her—

You, not another—say, I saw him die

As he breathed this, “I love her”—you don’t know

What those three small words mean! Say, loving her

Lowers me down the bloody slope to death

With memories… I speak to her, not you,

Who had no pity, will have no remorse,

Perchance intend her… Die along with me,

Dear Mildred! ’tis so easy, and you’ll ’scape

So much unkindness! Can I lie at rest,

With rude speech spoken to you, ruder deeds

Done to you?—heartless men shall have my heart,

And I tied down with grave-clothes and the worm,

Aware, perhaps, of every blow—oh God!—

Upon those lips—yet of no power to tear

The felon stripe by stripe! Die, Mildred! Leave

Their honourable world to them! For God

We’re good enough, though the world casts us out.

[A whistle is heard.

Tresham

Ho, Gerard!

Enter Gerard, Austin and Guendolen, with lights

No one speak! You see what’s done!

I cannot bear another voice.

Mertoun

There’s light—

Light all about me, and I move to it.

Tresham, did I not tell you—did you not

Just promise to deliver words of mine

To Mildred?

Tresham

I will bear those words to her.

Mertoun

Now?

Tresham

Now. Lift you the body, and leave me

The head.

[As they have half raised Mertoun, he turns suddenly.

Mertoun

I knew they turned me: turn me not from her!

There! stay you! there!

[Dies.

Guendolen

[After a pause

Austin, remain you here

With Thorold until Gerard comes with help:

Then lead him to his chamber. I must go

To Mildred.

Tresham

Guendolen, I hear each word

You utter. Did you hear him bid me give

His message? Did you hear my promise? I,

And only I, see Mildred.

Guendolen

She will die.

Tresham

Oh no, she will not die! I dare not hope

She’ll die. What ground have you to think she’ll die?

Why, Austin’s with you!

Austin

Had we but arrived

Before you fought!

Tresham

There was no fight at all.

He let me slaughter him—the boy! I’ll trust

The body there to you and Gerard—thus!

Now bear him on before me.

Austin

Whither bear him?

Tresham

Oh, to my chamber! When we meet there next,

We shall be friends.

[They bear out the body of Mertoun

Will she die, Guendolen?

Guendolen

Where are you taking me?

Tresham

He fell just here.

Now answer me. Shall you in your whole life

—You who have nought to do with Mertoun’s fate,

Now you have seen his breast upon the turf,

Shall you e’er walk this way if you can help?

When you and Austin wander arm-in-arm

Through our ancestral grounds, will not a shade

Be ever on the meadow and the waste—

Another kind of shade than when the night

Shuts the woodside with all its whispers up?

But will you ever so forget his breast

As carelessly to cross this bloody turf

Under the black yew avenue? That’s well!

You turn your head: and I then?—

Guendolen

What is done

Is done. My care is for the living. Thorold,

Bear up against this burden: more remains

To set the neck to!

Tresham

Dear and ancient trees

My fathers planted, and I loved so well!

What have I done that, like some fabled crime

Of yore, lets loose a Fury leading thus

Her miserable dance amidst you all?

Oh, never more for me shall winds intone

With all your tops a vast antiphony,

Demanding and responding in God’s praise!

Hers ye are now, not mine! Farewell—farewell!