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ALICE.
Did his dead father wed her—he had been
An innocent usurper. At one word,
We lost our name, our wealth, our very home.
Delay had maddened him: before the sun
Was set, we and our children had passed forth
From this fair heritage, poor wanderers
Upon the earth. The gentle heiress staid,
Death-struck with the disgrace that seemed to stain
Even her white purity. In one short month
Her passing-bell had knolled.
An innocent usurper. At one word,
We lost our name, our wealth, our very home.
Delay had maddened him: before the sun
Was set, we and our children had passed forth
From this fair heritage, poor wanderers
Upon the earth. The gentle heiress staid,
Death-struck with the disgrace that seemed to stain
Even her white purity. In one short month
Her passing-bell had knolled.
Henry.Poor—poor—But she,
The wretchedest, the mother?
The wretchedest, the mother?
Mrs. Neville.Ere she rose
From off the ground where she had plunged her shame,
Her brown hair turned to white. She died not: youth,
And joy, and beauty died; but she lives on
In penitence.
From off the ground where she had plunged her shame,
Her brown hair turned to white. She died not: youth,
And joy, and beauty died; but she lives on
In penitence.
Henry.And he?
Mrs. Neville.Oh, what a slow
And weary death is grief, when it contends
With manhood's healthful prime! we wander'd on
Through many lands. He could not bear the sight
Or sound of aught familiar—his own name
Was as a dagger to him; every smile
Of his unconscious son a deeper stab:
Only my gentle Alice—her he loved—
Her only! till at last his heart grew strong
And weary death is grief, when it contends
With manhood's healthful prime! we wander'd on
Through many lands. He could not bear the sight
Or sound of aught familiar—his own name
Was as a dagger to him; every smile
Of his unconscious son a deeper stab:
Only my gentle Alice—her he loved—
Her only! till at last his heart grew strong