[_Going._]

_Arth._ Distraction! I deserve not this unkindness.

Florence, why spurn my love thus?--

_Flor._ Nay, I think But just escaped one brother's persecution, 'tis Too bad another should annoy me.

_Arth._ Pardon, Madam, my cousin; henceforth I'll not grieve you.

[_Going._]

_Flor._ Stay!

_Arth._ [_Rushing to her._] What is it?

_Flor._ Nothing, but I think you promis'd To ride my horse; you know she is too gay; Nay, 'tis no matter if you have forgotten.

It is no wonder, since you walked so long With those two foreign ladies yesterday: The youngest dresses somewhat out of taste To suit our English fancy. Did you not The other evening speak of English dress As something prudish, not quite to your taste?

Are you going far to-morrow?--

_Arth._ They are not foreign, I do a.s.sure you; I have known them long, The daughters of my honour'd friend, John Milton.

_Eliz._ [_Aside._] She knows it well as he does.

_Flor._ No? Indeed?

_Arth._ [_Pointing to Elizabeth._] Ask her.

_Flor._ I am not curious, sir, to hear With whom you walk; but, if you mention them, Of course 'tis natural I speak of it-- Elizabeth!

Will you come here and answer him! he talks Of one old Milton's daughters, when I'd ask About the fashions.

_Eliz._ [_With emotion, at the window._] See, there goes another Doom'd to the block; the excellent Laud scarce cold Within his grave-- It makes me heart-sick, girl!

To live, when just men die, that love their king, And I, his daughter, _his_, that wills it so, And does not stir to save them--nay, approves, Condemns, and sanctions; O 'tis dreadful! dreadful!

_Arth._ [_To FLORENCE._] Is she thus often!

_Flor._ Ay, too often thus Of late she suffers. [_Runs to her._]

Dear Elizabeth!

There, Walton, go!

_Arth._ And may I hope?--

_Flor._ Is this a time?

Do you not see she is ill?-- You will return, Ere long--go, call a servant!

[_He looks at her, she waves her hand impatiently, he goes out. Exit ARTHUR, L._]

_Eliz._ [_Points to the window._] Is it gone?-- He was quite young. Think you my father sat In judgment on him?

_Flor._ Know you not he is Now with the army?

_Eliz._ True! true!

[_Pa.s.ses her hand over her brow._] It is o'er.

Where is your cousin gone?

_Flor._ Who?

_Eliz._ Arthur Walton.

_Flor._ Oh! he has left.

_Eliz._ Your answer to him?

_Flor._ None.

_Eliz._ Out, flirt! I found you weeping, and you told me You lov'd him--

_Flor._ Did I? I'd forgotten it.

_Eliz._ Well, you will lose him thus.

_Flor._ Then, he's not worth The keeping, in my thought.

_Eliz._ You have done wrong.

I know the business he is gone upon.

You may not see him more--

_Flor._ I don't believe it, Although he said it.

_Eliz._ Girl! he hath to do A secret and most dangerous mission.

_Flor._ What!

In truth!--I'll call him back to speak to you.

[_Runs to the window._]

Ah! he has gallop'd off so fast without Once turning. Ah! to danger--Oh, wretch! wretch!

Fool that I am. [_Weeps._]

_Eliz._ [_To FLORENCE._] Poor child!

You love him, then?

_Flor._ Oh! yes, I love him all-- All, for I am not vain. There is no thought Dividing the wild worship of my soul.

_Eliz._ And yet you spoke so carelessly, and trifled With this the n.o.blest and the best oblation, A woman--but a poor divinity, I fear at best, my Florence!--may receive, The heart of a true gentleman. I mean No creature of dull circ.u.mstance, himself A mean inc.u.mbrance on his own great wealth.

How oft before their lovers women try To seem what they are not--if true their hearts, As thine is, apes not more fantastic show-- If mean and paltry, frankness is the flag 'Neath which they trim their pirate, little bark To capture their rich prize--

_Flor._ Enough! enough!

I know it all, I cannot help it, if He were here now, I could not choose but do it.