Thou art the daughter of my ancient master; vain. I am indeed the daughter of Sir Malcolm; My poverty hath saved my master's house! Lady Rand. Thy words surprise me: sure thou dost not feign! The tear stands in thine eye: such love from thee Sir Malcolm's house deserved not; if aright Thou told'st the story of thy own distress. Pris. Sir Malcolm of our barons was the flower; Your own brave brother, fell, the good old lord By them I was thrust out, and them I blame : Lady Rand. His race shall yet reward thee. On thy faith Depends the fate of thy loved master's house. That like a holy hermitage appears Pris. I remember The cottage of the cliffs. Lady Rand. 'Tis that I mean : Before the king and nobles, what thou now Thy son so long shall call thee father still, Pris. Fear not that I shall mar so fair a harvest, By putting in my sickle ere 'tis ripe. Why did I leave my home and ancient dame? And make him wear these jewels in his arms, f Which might, I thought, be challenged, and so bring To light the secret of his noble birth. [Lady RANDOLPH goes towards the Servants. Lady Rand. This man is not the assassin you suspected, Though chance combined some likelihoods against him. He is the faithful bearer of the jewels. To their right owner, whom in haste he seeks. 'Tis meet that you should put him on his way, Since your mistaken zeal hath dragg'd him hither. [Exeunt Stranger and Servants. Lady RANDOLPH and ANNA. Lady Rand. My faithful Anna! dost thou share my joy? I know thou dost. Unparallel'd event! Reaching from heaven to earth, Jehovah's arm Snatch'd from the waves, and brings to me my Judge of the widow, and the orphan's father, How soon he gazed on bright and burning arms, Spurn'd the low dunghill where his fate had thrown him, And tower'd up to the region of his sire! Anna. How fondly did your eyes devour the boy! Mysterious nature, with the unseen. cord Of powerful instinct, drew you to your own. Lady Rand. The ready story of his birth believed Supprest my fancy quite; nor did he owe To any likeness my so sudden favour: Anna. With wary caution you must bear yourself For, if a cherub in the shape of woman Should walk this world, yet defamation would, Lady Rand. He did so, Anna! Well thy mis- If the least circumstance, mote of offence, Should touch the baron's eye, his sight would be Pursues the flash. Anna. That demon haunts you still : Behold Glenalvon. 7 |