Bert. [Fiercely.]

Fiord. I know not-'t was against my will.

Ha! who?

Bert. [Eagerly.]

No answer?

Fiord.

You gave

No-I fled.

He followed you?

Bert. [In the same tone.]

Fiord. A gracious lady gave me kind protection, And bade her train guard me safe home-Oh, father, If you had seen how good she was-how gently She soothed my fears-for I was sore afraidI'm sure you'd love her.

Bert.

Did you learn her name!
Fiord. I asked it, first, to set it in my prayers—
And then that you might pray for her.

Bert. Her name? [Aside.] I pray. [Contemptuously.
Fiord.
The Countess Malatesta.
Bert. [Aside.] Count Malatesta's wife protect my

child!

You have not seen her since?

No; though she urged me

Fiord.
So hard to come to her; and asked my name;
And who my parents were; and where I lived.
Bert. You did not tell her ?

Fiord.

Who my parents were?

How could I, when I must not know myself?

Bert. Patience, my darling; trust thy father's love,

That there is reason for this mystery!

The time may come when we may live in peace,

And walk together free, under free heaven;

But that cannot be here-nor now!

Fiord.

When shall that time arrive?

Oh, when

Bert. [Bitterly.]

When what I live for

Has been achieved!

Fiord. [Timidly.]

What you live for?

Revenge!

Bert. [With sullen ferocity.]

Fiord. [Averting her eyes with horror.] Oh, do not

look so, father!

Bert.

Listen, girl,

You asked me of your mother ;-it is time
You should know why all questioning of her
Racks me to madness. Look upon me, child;
Misshapen as I am, there once was one

Who, seeing me despised, mocked, lonely, poor-
Loved me I think-most for my misery:
Thy mother, like thee-just so pure-so sweet.
I was a public notary in Ceséna :

Our life was humble-but so happy thou
Wert in thy cradle then, and many a night
Thy mother and I sate hand in hand together,
Watching thine innocent smiles, and building up
Long plans of joy to come!

Fiord.

[His voice falters-he turns away

Alas! she died!

Bert. Died! There are deaths 't is comfort to look

back on:

Her's was not such a death. A devil came

Across our quiet life, and marked her beauty,

And lusted for her; and when she scorned his offers,
Because he was a noble-great and strong,

He bore her from my side-by force-and after
I never saw her more: they brought me news
That she was dead!

Bert.

And I was mad,

For years and years, and when my wits came backIf e'er they came,-they brought one haunting pur

pose,

That since has shaped my life-to have revenge!
Revenge upon her wronger and his order; →
Revenge in kind; to quit him-wife for wife!
Fiord. Father, 't is not for me to question with you:
But think?-revenge belongeth not to man,
It is God's attribute-usurp it not!

Bert. Preach abstinence to him that dies of hunger,
Tell the poor wretch who perishes of thirst,
There's danger in the cup his fingers clutch;
But bid me not forswear revenge. No word!
Thou know'st, now, why I mew thee up so close;
Keep thee out of the streets; shut thee from eyes
And tongues of lawless men-for in these days
All men are lawless.-'T is because I fear

To lose thee, as I lost thy mother.

Fiord.

I'll pray for her.

Bert.

Father,

Do-and for me; good night!

Fiord. Oh, not so soon-with all these sad dark

thoughts,

These bitter memories. You need my love:

I'll touch my lute for you, and sing to it.

Music, you know, chases all evil angels.

Bert. I must go: 'tis grave business calls me hence

[Aside.] 'Tis time that I was at my post-My own, Sleep in thine innocence. Good night! good night! Fiord. But let me see you to the outer door.

Bert. Not a step further, then.

place,

God guard this

That here my flower may grow, safe from the blight

Of look or word impure, a holy thing

Consecrate to thy service, and my love!

(By permission of the Author.)

SCENE FROM "STILL WATERS RUN

DEEP."

BY TOM TAYLOR.

HAWKSLEY and MRS. STERNHOLD.

Hawksley. Good evening, Mrs. Sternhold! Delighted to see you looking so brilliant-your headache is quite gone, I trust.

Mrs. Sternhold. Villain!-Swindler!-Adventurer! -Impostor!-Beggar!

Hawks. Your excitement makes you illogical. Allow me to observe that beggars don't ride, and that my cab is at the garden door.

Mrs. S. Thanks to the poor dupes who pay for it, of whom I have been one too long

Hawks. You do us both injustice, my dear madam. You are too clever for a dupe-and I'm not clever enough

Mrs. S. For a rogue? Excuse me-you have just

the requisite amount of brains, but there is one quality you are deficient in.

Hawks. And what may that be, pray?

Mrs. S. Prudence-or you would have foreseen the danger of making me your enemy.

Hawks. Allow me to offer you a chair. [Placing chair by table; she sits.] I see our tête-à-tête promises to be as long as it is already interesting. [Takes chair, and sits.] And now, my dear lady, I'm all attention; if you will be kind enough to explain to me the cause of all this emotion, I may perhaps succeed in calming it.

Mrs. S. You are here-and you dare ask the cause of my indignation.

Hawks. I understand. My presence in Mrs. Mildmay's boudoir is an unpardonable crime-there might have been an excuse for me had it been yours.

Mrs. S. [Hiding her face in her hands.] If my weakness had exposed me to such an insult, a man of honour would have spared me it.

Hawks. [Contemptuously.] A man of honour! In a word, what is the meaning of this scene? Why are you here? What do you want? Where is your niece? Mrs. S. Yonder, in her own room. You love her? Hawks. Suppose I admit it?

Mrs. S. And you dare to tell me so?

[Seizes a paper-knife, which lies on the table.

Hawks. How lucky it's not a dagger!

Mrs. S. [In a passion of rage, breaks the paper-knife, and throws away the pieces.] The dagger's a poor It kills too soon.

revenge.

Hawks. We have a variety of slow poisons.