How? did not you--Oh, Austin 'twas, declared
His hair was light, not brown--my head!--and look,
The moon-beam purpling the dark chamber! Sweet,
Good night!
GUENDOLEN. Forgive me--sleep the soundlier for me!
[Going, she turns suddenly.]
Mildred!
Perdition! all's discovered! Thorold finds
--That the Earl's greatest of all grandmothers
Was grander daughter still--to that fair dame
Whose garter slipped down at the famous dance!
[Goes.]
MILDRED. Is she--can she be really gone at last?
My heart! I shall not reach the window. Needs
Must I have sinned much, so to suffer.
[She lifts the small lamp which is suspended before the Virgin's
image in the window, and places it by the purple pane.]
There!
[She returns to the seat in front.]
Mildred and Mertoun! Mildred, with consent
Of all the world and Thorold, Mertoun's bride!
Too late! 'Tis sweet to think of, sweeter still
To hope for, that this blessed end soothes up
The curse of the beginning; but I know
It comes too late: 'twill sweetest be of all
To dream my soul away and die upon.
[A noise without.]
The voice! Oh why, why glided sin the snake
Into the paradise Heaven meant us both?
[The window opens softly. A low voice sings.]
There's a woman like a dew-drop, she's so purer than the purest;
And her noble heart's the noblest, yes, and her sure faith's the
surest:
And her eyes are dark and humid, like the depth on depth of lustre
Hid i' the harebell, while her tresses, sunnier than the wild-grape
cluster,
Gush in golden tinted plenty down her neck's rose-misted marble:
Then her voice's music.
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