You're wretched--very wretched; what's the matter? Is not your kinsman kind?

Mal. Yes; he is kind.

Jumes. Have you no powerful friend to plead your

cause,

And raise you in the Church?

"

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Mal. I would not rise;

'I tell you, sir, I have no wish to rise;

Enough that I am in the church without

Being raised; I would not have a powerful friend "To plead my cause."

James. Oh!

Mal. If Sir Adam Weir

Had deigned to ask my thoughts,—but no-no--no--
He used the power, wrung from my poverty——
My orphan youth,--but I am wrong-most wrong--
Ι pray you ask no more, Sir, of my doings;
If I have served you, let your gratitude--
Though such I claim not,-let it show itself
In silence. I would have my grief remain
In my own breast.

James. Ah! but that were unkind

To friends like me; for, trust me, though so short
The date of our acquaintance, it has grown
At once to friendship.

Mal. But I know you not

I never saw you till an hour ago.

James. Oh!--so suspicious? Look on me, "See you a lurking devil in my eyes?" I tell you I would serve you if I could, "And sympathy is all that I can offer.

Reject it not. I'm but a simple yeoman; "But I would know your grief, if happily

66

I might relieve it. If it come to the worst,

my

friend

"I can but share it." Come, come! hide no more
The sorrow that consumes you. Bring the snake
Forth from the hole where it but gathers venom !—
Out on the sunny grass with the vile thing!

We'll stamp it into powder with our heels.
Mal. Why-I—I have no sorrow to reveal.

James. You have. But if you trust not to my words, And scorn my friendship

Mal. Oh, forgive me, Sir;

My heart was full. I do not scorn your friendship,
God knows the name of friendship is too sweet

To be thrown by. Oh, Sir, your pardon !" Here Is my true hand. I thank you from my heart.

James. Now, then, 'tis as I thought. You'll not repent Your trusting me.

Mal. There's something in your eye

Moves confidence.

I love the very

sound

Of your bold voice. You have no gloomy thoughts—
All's sunshine round, above, before you.

James. Ah!

You know not-but-enough! Poor Malcolm Young! Tell me what weighs so heavy on your heart.

Made. [behind.] Now I shall hear what makes poor Malcolm sad.

Mal. Sir, 'tis but three weeks since that I came homeHome! no, I dare not call it home,-came here ;— After long tarrying at St. Andrew's schools,

By order of my kinsman, "at the last

"A month since,-'tis one little month ago."
James. Go on, go on!

Made. [aside.] Now comes the hidden grief.
Mal. He forced me, by deceitful messages,
To vow me to the priesthood, when my soul
Longed more for neighing steeds than psalteries.
Oh, what a happy fortune had been mine

To draw the sword 'neath gallant James's eye,
And rouge it to the hilt in English blood!

James. Heaven bless you, boy !—your hand again—your hand!

Would you have served the king?

Mal. Ay! died for him!

James. And he'd have cherished you, believe me, boy, "And held you in his heart, and trusted you

"And you'd ha' been true brothers ;-for a love

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Like yours is what

poor James has need of most.”

Is this your grief?

Mal. Alas, my grief lies deeper!

"I might have bent me to my cruel fate,

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66

With pray'rs that our brave king find Scots as true,

And worthier of his praise, than Malcolm Young."

When I came back, I had not been a day

'Mid well-known scenes, in the remembered rooms,
Till to my heart, my soul, the dreadful truth
Was opened like a gulf; and I-fool! fool!
To be so dull, so blind-I knew too late
That I was wretched-miserable-doomed,
Like Tantalus, to more than hellish pains-
To feel-yet not to dare to speak, or think;
To love and be a priest !

Made. [aside.] To love! to love!—
How strange this is!

James. How found you this, poor friend?

Mal. By throbbings at the heart, when I but heard Her whispered name; thoughts buried long ago 'Neath childish memories-we were children bothRose up like arméd phantoms from their grave, Waving me from them with their mailéd hands! "I saw her, with the light of womanhood

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'Spread o'er the childish charms I loved so well-
"I heard her voice, sweet with the trustful tones
"She spoke with long ago, yet richer grown
"With the full burden of her ripened thoughts."

Made. [aside.] My head goes round-my heart will burst! Mal. I saw

A world lie open-and an envious spell

Fencing it from me; day by day, I felt

Grief and the blackness of unsunn'd despair

Closing all round me.

James. And the maiden's name?

- Mal, Was Madeleine Weir.

[Madeleine recoils, and leans for support on the side

scene, L.

James. [goes to Madeleine.] You're faint; you're deadly pale!

Made. 'Tis nothing,-'twas a pain-a sudden pang Shot through my head—but, I am better now.

Mal. She was not listening!

Made. No; I heard nothing-nothing;

'Twill soon be gone. I pray you, leave me now— I'm strong--I'm strong! She tries to walk, but sinks.] Help, Malcolm!--I am dying!

James. [catching her ere she falls.] Run, run for aid! and

come not back again;

Perhaps she heard you. I will guard her here.

Mal. Help, help! for Madeleine-" help, Widow
Barton !"
[Exit Malcolm, R.

James. Wake, Madeleine-he's gone.
Malcolm gone?

Made. Who

James. Look not so wildly!

Made. What was't I said!

Did he hear aught, "or see me--how I fell ?"
James. No, no; he heard you not-come, cheer
What can I say to cheer her? Droop not so,
There shall come happier days.

Made. Oh! never, never!

you, lady,

James. Ay, but there shall, tho'! "Gather up your heart, "And brace you for a struggle with your grief. "What! hopelessness sit on a brow like this; "And sorrow blight the roses on these lips?" I tell you, do not sigh, poor Madeleine; I tell you---nay, I lay command on you, Start not that I command---I tell you, hope! By heaven! I'd trample on all laws in the world That bring such sorrow.

I

Made. Oh, Sir, by your voice

guess how kind you are!

James. Ay, kind and true

And you shall never know me aught than kind.

So, cheer you, Madeleine!

"Made. Oh, Sir, I'm weak!

"A moment with myself would strengthen me,— "I think I'm better now.

"James." Come, lean on me!
Made. No, no; I'd be alone!
James. Then droop not, girl;

'Tis a black night that lets no starlight through;
And so I leave you. [Aside.] Ah, I see it all!
A hapless pair that knew not their own hearts,
And pay the forfeit of their ignoranc›

In tears.

Made. For me!-for me!-and I the while,
So giddy-cruel-ne'er to see his love
Was other than in days of our glad youth!

[Exit, L

And blinder, colder, ne'er to feel that here,
In my deep, inmost heart, there was enshrined
His image!-oh, and it is sinful now!

He dare not love! I dare not love him more!
“And all the happiness I felt to see him,
"To speak to him, to wander by his side,

"I thought was but our friendship, as of old,

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Long years since. And 'tis all for me he mourns !— Hopeless!--oh, wherefore have I heard his secret, "And wherefore have I found my own?"

Enter SIR ADam Weir, r.

Sir A. My child,

I told you that my worthy friend, Laird Small,
Had honoured me by making choice of you
To wed his son. I've given him my consent;
And in a little time, the gallant youth

Will pay his court; no blushes-no denials-
You marry him. I've said it. That's enough!
"You'll be prepared to smile upon his suit."
Made. I, sir! I-

Sir A. Let me see no foolish qualms;
"He is a gay and courtly gentleman,
"And rich as any noble in the land.”

Made. Sir!

Sir A. Not a word; make ready to receive him, He will be here anon.

Made. I'm weak-I'm ill

I cannot see him.

Sir A. Cannot see my friend?

The man I've chosen? let me hear no more
Of idle feints. If you're unkind to him,
Or pout, or knit your brows, or play the fool,
You shall repent it !-Get you to your room,
And do as I tell you.

I have never loved

[Exit Madeleine, L.

A thing on earth as I have loved that girl,

"Since my two sons and her poor mother died." But I will not be mocked,

Enter LAIRD and MUNGO, R.

Laird. Gadso! Sir Adam,