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I knew him well; and there's one incident
Much dwelt on to his prejudice, that I
Was witness to—if you would bid me tell it.
Rave. O, by all means, come, your romance.
Mary. 'Tis truth.
It was a wintry day, the snow was deep,
And the chill rain had fallen and was frozen,
That all the surface was a glittering crust.—
We were all gather'd in the lady's hall,
That overlook'd the lawn; a poor stray fawn
Came limping toward us. It had lost, perhaps,
It's dam, and chas'd by cruel hunters, came
To seek a refuge with us. Every bound
The forlorn creature made, its little feet
Broke through the crust, and we could mark that one
Of its delicate limbs was broken. A rude boy
Follow'd it fast, as it would seem, to kill it;
I could not choose but wish its life were sav'd,
And at the word Charles ran and took it up,
And gave it to me, and I cherish'd it
And bound its broken limb up; and it liv'd
And seem'd to thank me for my care of it.
Rave. But was this all? Was not the village lad assailed and beaten?
Mary. He was rude and churlish,
And would have forc'd the animal from Charles.
And tho' 'twas on his mothers' grounds, Charles proffer'd him
The price of the fawn; But nothing would content him,
And he struck Charles; he was a larger boy,
But did not prove the stronger—so he went
And made the village all believe his story,
That Charles had robb'd and beaten him, for Charles
Had none to speak for him.
Rave. No more of this—
And never let me hear the name you've utter'd pass from your lips again. It is enough