Page:Superstition play.djvu/17

If envy, persecution, drive him thence,
They but disgrace themselves, and not poor Charles.
Alice. Mary?
Mary. Yes; take my secret; take it quickly,
Or it will burst my heart.
Alice. Nay, but be calm.
Mary. You shall know all—surely you'll pity, Alice,
And perhaps, pardon me. Three years ago
When Charles's mother first came here to live;
From England, was it not: The village then
Had scarce begun to hate her, for as yet
She had not lavish'd charities abroad.
To purchase up ingratitude and envy.
Being her nearest neighbour, (my dear mother
Was then alive,) there rose at once between us
That intercourse which neighbourhood compels
At times, e'en with the most reserved. The lady
I know not why, unless out of her goodness.
Graced me with her regard, and when my mother
Died, she took the desolate child to her bosom.
Alice. 'Twas kindly done.
Mary. O she was goodness all.
Her words so sweet and soothing; as she spoke,
Alice, methought I saw my sainted mother
Lean o'er the bright edge of a silvery cloud
And smile upon her happy orphan girl,—
And there was Charles, so busy still around me.
Exhausting all his boyish gallantries.
With brotherly affection.—
Alice. Charles, still Charles?
Mary. Can I forget it!—
Alice. Nay, go on.
Mary. The winter
Soon pass'd away, and then the spring came on
With all its flowers, and still the earliest blossom
Was cuU'd for me. O, we were then so happy—
I always lov'd the spring. Young nature then
Came to me like a play-mate. Ere the snows