ACT IV

SCENE I.—The Castle-Hall: The Lamps are lighted.

Enter Father Philip.
F. PHIL.  ‘Tis near midnight, and the Earl is already retired to rest.  What if I ventured now to the Lady's chamber? Hark!  I hear the sound of footsteps!
Enter Alice.
F. PHIL. How, Alice, is it you?
[61]
ALICE. So! So!—Have I found you at last, Father?—I have been in search of you these four hours!—Oh!  I've been so frightened since I saw you, that I wonder I keep my senses!
F. PHIL. So do I; for I'm sure they're not worth the trouble.  And, pray, what has alarmed you thus?  I warrant you've taken an old cloak pinned against the wall for a spectre, or discovered the devil in the shape of a tabby-cat.
ALICE. (Looking round in terror.) For the love of heaven, Father, don't name the devil! or, if you must speak of him, pray mention the good gentleman with proper politeness.  I'm sure, for my own part, I had always a great respect for him, and if he hears me, I dare say he'll own as much.
F. PHIL. Respect for the devil, you wicked woman!—for that perfidious serpent—that crafty seducer—
ALICE. Hush!—Hush!—Father, you make my teeth chatter with fright. For aught I know he's within hearing, for he certainly haunts this Castle in the form of my late Lady.
F. PHIL. Form of a fiddlestick!—Don't tell me of your—
ALICE. Father, on the word of a virgin, I saw him this very evening in Lady Angela's bed!
F. PHIL.  In Lady Angela's?—On my conscience, the devil has an excellent taste!  But, Alice!—Alice!—how dare you trot about the house at this time of night, propagating such abominable falsehoods?—One comfort is, that nobody will believe you.  Lady Angela's virtue is too well known, and I'm persuaded she wouldn't suffer the devil to put a single claw into her bed for the universe!
[62]
ALICE.  How you run on!—Lord bless me, she wasn't in bed herself.
F. PHIL.  Oh!—Was she not?
ALICE.  No, to be sure: But you shall hear how it happened.  We were in the Cedar-room together; and while we were talking of this and that, Lady Angela suddenly gave a great scream.  I looked round, and what should I see but a tall figure all in white extended upon the bed!  At the same time I heard a voice, which I knew to be the Countess Evelina's, pronounce in a hollow tone—'Alice!—Alice!—Alice!'—three times.  You may be certain that I was frightened enough.  I instantly took to my heels; and just as I got without side of the door, I heard a loud clap of thunder, and the whole chamber shook as if tumbling into a thousand pieces!
F. PHIL.  Well done, Alice!—A very good story, upon my word: It has but one fault—‘Tis not true.
ALICE.  Ods my life, Father, how can you tell any thing about it?  Sure I should know best; for I was there, and you were not.  I repeat it—I heard the voice as plain as I hear yours: Do you think I've no ears?
F. PIIIL.  Oh! far from it: I think you've uncommonly good ones; for you not only hear what has been said, but what has not.  Hark!—the clock strikes twelve:—‘Tis late, and I'm sleepy, so shall bid you farewell for the present.  As to this wonderful story of yours, Alice, I don't believe one word of it: I'll be sworn that the voice was no more like your Lady's than like mine; and that the devil was no more in the bed than I was. Therefore, take my advice, set your heart at [63] rest, and go quietly to your chamber, as I am now going to mine.—Good-night.
ALICE.  Good-night?—Surely you'll not have the heart to leave me in this terrible situation!—Suppose Satan should appear to me when I'm alone!—Sinner that I am, I should certainly die of the fright!—Good Father, you are a priest, and an holy man; your habit frightens the evil spirits, and they dare not come near you:—Oh! if you will but suffer me to pass the night in your company—
F. PHIL. Oh! monstrous!—Oh! impudence unparalleled!—You naughty, naughty woman, what could put such thoughts in your head?
ALICE.  What's the matter now?
F. PHIL.  Does not my sacred habit inspire you with awe?—Does not the exemplary chastity of my past life warn you to conceal such licentious desires?—Pass the night with me indeed?—I'm shocked at the very thought!
ALICE.  The man's mad!—Father, as I hope to be saved—
F. PHIL. Nay!—Come not near me!—Offer not to embrace me!
ALICE.  I embrace you!—Lord! Fellow, I wouldn't touch you for the universe.
F. PHIL.  Was it for this that you still flattered my person, and declared that nothing became a man more than a big belly?—Was it for this that you strove to win my heart through the medium of my stomach; that you used to come languishing every day with some liquorish dish; and, while you squeezed my left hand tenderly, placed a sack-posset in the right?—Heavens! how deep-laid were your plans of seduction!—But mark me, tempter: In vain has the soup been salted, the [64] ragout seasoned, and the pepper-box shaken with unsparing hand! My virtue is proof against all your culinary spells; the fairness of my innocence is still unblemished; and in spite of your luscious stews and savoury hashes, I retire like a second St. Anthony, victorious front Temptation's lists! (Exit.)
ALICE.  There, he's gone!—Dear heart! Dear heart! what shall I do now?—‘Tis past twelve o'clock, and stay by myself I dare not.—I’ll e'en wake the laundry-maid, make her sit up in my room all night; and 'tis hard if two women a'n't a match for the best devil in Christendom. (Exit)
Enter Saib and Hassan.
SAIB.  The Earl then has forgiven me!—A moment longer, and his pardon would have come too late.  Had not Kenric held his hand, by this time I should be at supper with St. Peter.
HASS.  Your folly well deserved such a reward.  Knowing the Earl's hasty nature, you should have shunned him till the first storm of passion was past, and circumstances had again made your ministry needful.  Anger then would have armed his hand in vain; for interest, the white-man's God, would have blunted the point of his dagger.
SAIB.  I trusted that his gratitude for my past services—
HASS.  European gratitude?—Seek constancy in the winds—fire in ice—darkness in the blaze of sun-shine!—But seek not gratitude in the breast of an European!
SAIB. Then,  why so attached to Osmond? For what do you value him?
[65]
HASS.  Not for his virtues, but for his vices, Saib: Can there for me be a great cause to love him?—Am I not branded with scorn? Am I not marked out for dishonour? Was I not free, and am I not a slave? Was I not once beloved, and am I not now despised? What man, did I tender my service, would accept the negro's friendship? What woman, did I talk of affection, would not turn from the negro with disgust? Yet, in my own dear land, my friendship was courted, my love was returned.  I had parents, children, wife!—Bitter thought, in one moment all were lost to me! Can I remember this, and not hate these white men? Can I think how cruelly they have wronged me, and not rejoice when I see them suffer?—Attached to Osmond, say you? Saib, I hate him! Yet viewing him as an avenging Fiend sent hither to torment his fellows, it glads me that he fills his office so well!  Oh! 'tis a thought which I would not barter for empires, to know that in this world he makes others suffer, and will suffer himself for their tortures in the next!
SAIB.  But say, you be one of those whom he causes to suffer, how then? Hassan, I will sleep no more in the Lion's den! My resolve is taken: I will away from the Castle, and seek in some other service that security—
OSM. (Within)—What—Hoa! Help!—Lights there! Lights!
HASS. Hark! Surely 'twas the Earl!
(Osmond rushes in wildly.)
OSM.  Save me!  Save me!—They are at hand! Oh! let them not enter!—(Sinks into the arms of Saib.)
[66]
SAIB.  What call this mean?—See how his eyes roll! How violently he trembles!
HASS.  Speak, my Lord!—Do you not know us?
OSM. (Recovering himself.) Ha! Whose voice?—Hassan's—And Saib too here?—Oh! Was it then but a dream?—Did I not hear those dreadful, those damning words?—Still, still they ring in my ears. Hassan! Hassan! Death must be bliss, in flames or on the rack, compared to what I have this night suffered!
HASS.  Compose yourself, my Lord: Can a mere dream unman you thus?
OSM.  A mere dream, say'st thou?  Hassan, 'twas a dream of such horror! Did such dreams haunt my bitterest foe, I should wish him no severer punishment. Mark you not, how the ague of fear still makes my limbs tremble? Rolls not my eye, as if still gazing on the Spectre?  Are not my lips convulsed, as were they yet prest by the kiss of corruption?  Oh! 'twas a sight, that might have bleached joy's rosy cheek for ever, and strowed the snows of age upon youth's auburn ringlets! Yet, away with these terrors!—Hassan, thou saidst, 'twas but a dream: I was deceived by fancy. Hassan, thou saidst true; there is not, there cannot be, a world to come.
HASS.  My Lord!—
OSM.  Answer me not! Let me not hear the damning truth! Tell me not, that flames await me! that for moments of bliss I must endure long ages of torture! Plunge me rather in the thickest gloom of Atheism! Say, that with my body must perish my soul! For, oh! should my fearful dream be prophetic! Hark, fellows! Instruments of my guilt, listen to my punishment!—Methought I wandered through the low-browed [67] caverns, where repose the reliques of my ancestors! My eye dwelt with awe on their tombs, with disgust on Mortality's surrounding emblems! Suddenly a female form glided along the vault: It was Angela! She smiled upon me, and beckoned me to advance.  I flew towards her; my arms were already unclosed to clasp her—when suddenly her figure changed, her face grew pale, a stream of blood gushed from her bosom!—Hassan, 'twas Evelina!
SAIB AND HASS.  Evelina!
OSM.  Such as when she sank at my feet expiring, while my hand grasped the dagger still crimsoned with her blood!—'We meet again this night!' murmured her hollow voice!  'Now rush to my arms, but first see what you have made me! Embrace me, my bridegroom! We must never part again!'—While speaking, her form withered away: the flesh fell from her bones; her eyes burst from their sockets: a skeleton, loathsome and meagre, clasped me in her mouldering arms!—
SAIB. Most horrible!
OSM. Her infected breath was mingled with mine; her rotting fingers pressed my hand, and my face was covered with her kisses! Oh! then, then how I trembled with disgust! And now blue dismal flames gleamed along the walls; the tombs were rent asunder; bands of fierce spectres rushed round me in frantic dance! furiously they gnashed their teeth while they gazed upon me, and shrieked in loud yell—‘Welcome, thou fratricide! Welcome, thou lost for ever!’—Horror burst the bands of sleep; distracted I flew hither: But my feelings—words are too weak, too powerless to express them.
[68]
SAIB.  My Lord, my Lord, this was no idle dream! ‘Twas a celestial warning;—‘twas your better Angel that whispered—'Osmond, repent your former crimes! Commit not new ones!'—Remember, that this night should Kenric—
OSM.  Kenric?—Oh! speak!  Drank he the poison?
SAIB.  Obedient to your orders, I presented it at supper; but ere the cup reached his lips, his favorite dog sprang upon his arm, and the liquor fell to the ground untasted.
OSM. Praised be Heaven! Then my soul is lighter by a crime!—Kenric shall live, good Saib.  What though he quit me, and betray my secrets?  Proofs he cannot bring against me, and bare assertions will not be believed.  At worst, should his tale be credited, long ere Percy can wrest her from me, shall Angela be mine.  Angela!—Oh!  At that name all again is calm in my bosom.  Hushed by her image my tumultuous passions sink to rest, and my terrors subside into that single fear, her loss! I forget that I have waded to her arms through blood; forget all save my affection and her beauty!
SAIB.  You forget too that her heart is another's?  Oh! my Lord, reflect on your conduct while it is yet time; restore the poor Angela to liberty; resign her to her favourite lover—
OSM. Sooner will I resign my life!—Fellow, you know not what you say: My heart-strings are twisted round the maid; ere I resign her, those strings must break. If I exist to-morrow night, I will pass it in her arms—If I exist?—Ha! Whence the doubt? 'We meet again this night!'—So said the Spectre!—Dreadful words, be ye blotted from my mind for ever.—Hassan, to your [69] vigilance I leave the care of my beloved. Fly to me that instant, should any unbidden foot-step approach yon chamber-door. I'll to my couch again. Follow me, Saib, and watch me while I sleep. Then, if you see my limbs convulsed, my teeth clenched, my hair bristiling,  and cold dews trembling on my brow, seize me! Rouse me! Snatch me from my bed! I must not dream again.—Oh! faithless Sleep, why art thou too leagued with my foes? There was a time when thy presence brought oblivion to my sorrows; when thy poppy-crown was mingled with roses!—Now, Fear and Remorse thy sad companions, I shudder to see thee approach my couch! Blood trickles from thy garments; snakes writhe around thy brows: thy hand holds the well-known fatal dagger, and plunges it still reeking in my breast!—Then do I shriek in agony; then do I start distracted from thy arms!—Oh! how I hate thee, Sleep!—Friend of Virtue, oh! how I dread thy coming! [6]
(Exit with Saib.)
HASS.  (Alone.)—Yes, thou art sweet, Vengeance!—Oh! how it joys me when the white man suffers! Yet weak are his pangs, compared to those I felt when torn from thy shores, O native Africa! from thy bosom, my faithful Samba!—Ah! dost thou still exist, my wife? Has sorrow for my loss traced thy smooth brow with wrinkles!—My boy too, whom on that morn/ing [70] when the man-hunters seized me, I left sleeping on thy bosom, say, Lives he yet? Does he ever speak of me? Does he ask, 'Mother, describe to me my father; show me how the warrior looked?'[7]—Ha! has my bosom still room for thoughts so tender?  Hence with them!  Vengeance must possess it all! Oh! when I forget my wrongs, may I forget myself! When I forbear to hate these Christians, God of my fathers! mayst thou hate me!—Ha!  Whence that light?  A man moves this way with a lamp! How cautiously he steals along! He must be watched. This friendly column will shield me from his regards. Silence!  he comes. (Retires.)

Kenric enters softly with a Lamp.

KENR.  All is hushed!— The Castle seems buried in sleep.—Now then to Angela! (Exit.)
HASS. (Advancing.)—It was Kenrick—Still he moves onwards—Now he stops—'T'is at the door of Angela's chamber!—He unlocks it!—He enters!—Away then to the Earl: Christian, soon shall we meet again!
(Exit)

SCENE II.—Angela's apartment.

Angela stands by the Window, which is open, and through which the Moon is seen.

ANGELA. Will it never arrive, this tedious lingering hour?  Sure an age must have elapsed since the Friar left me, and still the bell strikes not one!—Percy, does thy impatience equal mine? Dost [71] thou too count the moments which divide us? Dost thou too chide the slowness of Time's pinions, which moved so swiftly when we strayed together on the Cheviot Hills?—Methinks I see him now, as he paces the Conway's margin: If a leaf falls, if a bird flutters, he flies towards it, for he thinks 'tis the foot-step of Angela: Then, with slow steps and bending head, disappointed he regains the fisher's cottage.  Perhaps, at this moment, his eyes like mine are fixed on yonder planet; perhaps, this sweet wind which plays on my cheek, is freighted with the sighs of my Lover.—Oh! sigh no more, my Percy! Soon shall I repose in safety on your bosom; soon again see the moon shed her silver light on Cheviot, and hear its green hills repeat the carol of your mellow horn!

SONG

How slow the lingering moments wear!
Ye hours, in pity speed your flight,
Till Cheviot's hills so fresh and fair
Again shall meet my longing sight!
Oh! then what rapture 'twill afford
Once more those scenes beloved to see,
Where Percy's heart first told its Lord,
He loved the Lass of low degree!

No founding titles graced my name,
No bounteous kinsmen swelled my dower;
But Percy sought no high-born Dame,
But Percy sought not wealth or power.
He sought a fond, a faithful heart,
He found the heart he sought in me;
He saw her pure and free from art,
And loved the Lass of low degree. [8]

[72]
The Castle seems to be still already: Would the Friar had named an earlier hour! By this I might have been safe in the fisher's cottage—Hark! Surely I heard—Some one unlocks the door!—Oh! should it be the Earl! Should he not retire ere the Monk arrives!—The door opens!—How!—Kenric here!—Speak—What would you?

Enter Kenric.

KENR. Softly, Lady!—If over-heard, I am lost, and your fate is connected with mine— (Placing his lamp on the table.)
ANG.  What means this mystery?—This midnight visit—
KENR. Is the visit of a Friend, of a Penitent!—Lady, I must away from the Castle: The keys are in my possession: I will make you the companion of my flight, and deliver you safe into the hands of Percy.—But, ere we depart—(Kneeling)—Oh! tell me, Lady, will you plead for me with one, who to me alone owes sixteen years of hard captivity?
ANG. Rise, Kenric: I understand you not. Of what captive do you speak?
KENR. Of one, who by me has been most injured, who to you will be most dear. Listen, Lady, to my strange narration. I was brought up with Osmond, was the partner of his pleasures, the confident of his cares.  The latter sprang solely from his elder brother, whose birth-right he coveted, whose superiority he envied. Yet his aversion burst not forth, till Evelina Neville, rejecting his hand, bestowed hers with her heart on Reginald. Then did Osmond's passion over-leap all bounds. He resolved to assassinate his brother [73] when returning form the Scottish wars, carry off the Lady, and make himself master of her person by force.—This scheme he imparted to me: he flattered, threatened, promised, and I yielded to his seduction!
ANG.  Wretched man!
KENR.  Condemn me not unheard. ‘Tis true, that I followed Osmond to the scene of slaughter, but no blood that day imbrued my hand.  It was the Earl whose sword struck Reginald to the ground: it was the Earl whose dagger was raised to complete his crime, when Evelina threw herself upon her husband's body, and received the weapon in her own.
ANG.  Dreadful!  Dreadful!
KENR.  His hopes disappointed by this accident, Osmond's wrath became madness. He gave the word for slaughter, and Reginald’s few attendants were butchered on the spot.  Scarce could my prayers and arguments save from his wrath his infant niece, whose throat was already gored by his poniard.  Angela, yours still wears that mark.
ANG.  Mine?—Almighty powers!
KENR.  Lady, 'tis true. I concealed in Allan's cottage the heiress of Conway: There were you doomed to languish in obscurity, till, alarmed by the report of his spies that Percy loved you, and dreading your meeting with so powerful a supporter, Osmond decreed your death a second time.  With this intention he sought your retreat; but when in you he beheld Evelina's living image, he changed his bloody purpose.  He caused me to reclaim you from Allan, and resolved, by making you his wife, to give himself a lawful claim to these possessions.
ANG. The monster!  Now then I know, when [74] he pressed my hand, why still my blood ran cold!  ‘Twas nature, that revolted at the fratricide's touch: ‘Twas my mother's spirit, that whispered, 'Love not my murderer!' Oh!  Good good Kenric!  And you knelt to me for pardon?  You, to whom I owe my life!  You, to whom—
KENR.  Hold! oh! hold!—Lady, how little do I deserve your thanks!—Oh! listen! listen!'—I was the last to quit the bloody spot: Sadly was I retiring, when a faint groan struck my ear.  I sprang from my horse; I placed my hand on Reginald's heart; it beat beneath the pressure!
(Here Osmond appears at the door, motions to Saib, &c. to retire, and advances himself unobserved.)
ANG. It beat!  It beat!  Cruel, and your dagger—
KENR.  Oh! that would have been mercy!  No, Lady, I preserved his life to rob him of liberty. It struck me, how strong would be my hold over Osmond, while his brother was in my power; and this reflection determined me to preserve him.  Having plunged the other bodies in the Conway's flood, I placed the bleeding Earl's on my horse before me, and conveyed him still insensible to a retreat, to all except myself a secret.  There I tended his wounds carefully, and succeeded in preserving his life.—Lady, Reginald still exists.—
(Here Osmond with a furious look draws his dagger, and motions to stab Kenric. A moment's reflection makes him stay his hand, and he returns the weapon into the sheath.)
ANG.  Still exists, say you?  My father still exists?
KENR.  He does, if a life so wretched can be termed existence. While his swoon lasted, I chained him to his dungeon wall; and no sooner were his [75] wounds healed, than I entered his prison no more.  Through a wicket in his dungeon-door I supplied him with food; and when in plaintive terms he sued to me for mercy, hasty I fled, nor gave an answer. Lady, near sixteen years have passed, since an human voice struck the ear of Reginald!
ANG.  Alas! alas!
KENR.  But the hour of his release draws near: I discovered this night that Osmond seeks my life, and resolved to throw myself on your mercy.  Then tell me, Lady, will you plead for me with your father?  Think you, he can forgive the author of his sufferings?
ANG.  Kenric, you have been guilty, cruel—But restore to me my father; aid us to escape; and all shall be forgiven, all forgot.
KENR. Then follow me in silence: I will guide you to Reginald’s dungeon: This key unlocks the Castle gates; and ere the cock crows, safe in the arms of Percy— (Here his eye falls upon Osmond, who has advanced between him and Angela.  She shrieks, and sinks into a chair.)
Horror!—The Earl!—Undone for ever!
OSM.  Miscreant!—Within there!
Enter Saib, Hassan, Muley, and Alaric.
OSM.  Hence with that traitor! confine him in the western tower!
ANG. (Starting wildly from her seat.) Yet speak once more, Kenric! Where is my Father? What place conceals him?
OSM. Let him not speak! Away with him!
(Kenric is forced off by the Africans. )
OSM. (Paces the stage with a furious air, while Angela eyes him with terror: at length he stops, and addresses her.) Nay, stifle not your curses!  Why [76] should your lips be silent when your eye speaks?—Is there not written on every feature 'Vengeance on the assassin! Justice on my mother's murderer?'—But mark me, Angela!  Compared to that which soon must be thine, these titles are sweet and lovely.  Know'st thou the word parricide, Angela?  Know'st thou their pangs who shed the blood of a parent?—Those pangs must be thine to-morrow.  This long-concealed captive, this new-found father—
ANG. Your brother, Osmond?  Your brother?—Surely you cannot, will not—
OSM.  Still doubt you, that I both can, and will?—Remember Kenric's tale! Remember, though the first blow failed, the second will strike deeper!—But from whom must Reginald receive that second? Not from his rival brother! not from his inveterate foe!—From his daughter, his unfeeling daughter!  ‘Tis she, who, refusing me her hand, will place a dagger in mine; 'tis she, whose voice declaring that she hates me, will bid me plunge that dagger in her father's heart!
ANG.  Man! man! drive me not mad!
OSM. (Pointing to Reginald's portrait.) Look upon this picture!  Mark, what a noble form!  How sweet, how commanding the expression of his full dark eye!—Then fancy that he lies in some damp solitary dungeon, writhing in death's agonies, his limbs distorted, his eye-strings breaking, his soul burthened with crimes from which no priest has absolved him, his last words curses on his unnatural child, who could have saved him, but who would not!
ANG. Horrible! horrible!
OSM.  Yet if you still reject my offers, thus must it be.  Tortures shall compel Kenric to re/veal [77] what dungeon conceals your father; and ere to-morrow dawns shall Angela lie a bride in my arms, or Reginald a corse at my feet.  Nay, spare entreaties! Why should I heed your sorrows? You have gazed unmoved upon mine! Why should I be softened by your tears? Mine never were dried by your pity! Cold and inflexible have you been to my despair, so will I be to yours.  Speak then, is Percy's love or your father's life most dear to you? Does the false mistress or the unnatural child sound most grating in your ears! Must Reginald die, or will Angela be mine?
ANG. Thine?—She will perish first!
OSM.  You have pronounced his sentence, and his blood be on your head!—Farewell!
ANG. (Detaining him, and throwing herself on her knees.) Hold! hold!—Oh!—go not, go not yet!—Wretch that I am, where shall I fly for succour?—Mercy, Osmond! Oh! mercy, mercy!—Behold me at your feet, see me bathe them with my tears! Look with pity on a creature whom your cruelty has bowed to the earth, whose heart you have almost broken, whose brain you have almost turned!—Mercy, Osmond!—Oh! mercy! mercy!
OSM.  Lovely, lovely suppliant! And why not profit by the present moment?  Why owe to cold consent what force may this instant give me?—It shall be so, and thus—(Attempting to clasp her in his arms, she starts from the ground suddenly, and draws her dagger with a distracted look.)
ANG.  Away!—Approach me not!—Dare not to touch me, or this poniard—
OSM.  Foolish girl! Let me but say the word, and thou art disarmed that moment.
ANG. But not by thee, Osmond!  Oh! never [78] by thee! Hadst thou the force of fabled giants, vainly wouldst thou strive to wrest this dagger from my hand.
OSM. Let this convince you how easily—(Attempting to seize it, his eye rests upon the hilt, and he starts back with horror.) By hell, the very poniard which—
ANG. (In an exulting tone.) Ha! hast thou found me, villain?—Villain, dost thou know this weapon?  Know'st thou whose blood incrusts the point?  Murderer, it flowed from the bosom of my mother!
OSM.  Within there! Help! (Hassan and Alaric enter.) Oh! God in heaven! (He falls senseless into their arms, and they convey him from the chamber: the door is locked after them.)
ANG. (Alone.) He faints!—Long may the villain wear thy chains, Oblivion! Long be it ere he wakes to commit new crimes!  My father in Osmond's power?—Oh! 'tis a dreadful thought!—But no, it must not, shall not be!—I will to Osmond, will promise to be his, will sacrifice my love, my happiness, my peace of mind—every thing but my father!—Yet, to bid an assassin to rest upon my bosom, to press that hand in mine which pierced the heart of my parent—Oh! it were monstrous!—(Kneeling before Evelina's portrait.) Mother!  Blessed Mother!  If indeed thy spirit still lingers amidst these scenes of sorrow, look on my despair with pity! fly to my aid! oh! fly, and save my father!—(She remains for some moments prostrate on the ground in silent sorrow. The Castle-bell tolls the hour: she raises herself and counts the quarters, after which it strikes ‘one!’) Hark! the bell tolls!—‘Tis the time which the Monk appointed.  He will not tarry: But I must not follow him; I [79] will not fly and abandon my father!—Yet may not my flight preserve him?  Yes, yes, I will away to Percy: By the same passage which favours my escape, his vassals may easily surprise the Castle, may seize Osmond ere he effects his crime, and to-morrow may see Reginald restored to freedom, to his domains, and to his daughter!—Oh! then sweet indeed will be my feelings! Then only can my heart know joy, when it throbs against a father's!—Ha! what was that! Methought the sound of music floated by me! It seemed as some one had struck the guitar!—I must have been deceived; it was but fancy.
(A plaintive voice sings within, accompanied by a guitar.)

'Lullaby!—Lullaby!—Hush thee, my dear,
Thy father is coming, and soon will be here!'

ANG. Heavens! The very words which Alice—The door too!—It moves! it opens!—Guard me, good Angels!
(The folding-doors unclose, and the Oratory is seen illuminated. In its centre stands a tall female figure, her white and flowing garments spotted with blood; her veil is thrown back, and discovers a pale and melancholy countenance; her eyes are lifted upwards, her arms extended towards heaven, and a large wound appears upon her bosom. Angela sinks upon her knees, with her eyes riveted upon the figure, which for some moments remains motionless.  At length the Spectre advances slowly, to a soft and plaintive strain; she stops opposite to Reginald's picture, and gazes upon it in silence.  She then turns, approaches Angela, seems to invoke a blessing upon her, points to the picture, and retires to the Oratory.  The music ceases. Angela rises with a wild look, and follows the Vision, extending her arms towards it. )
[80]
ANG. Stay, lovely spirit!—Oh! stay yet one moment!
(The Spectre waves her hand, as bidding her farewell. Instantly the organ's swell is heard; a full chorus of female voices chaunt ‘Jubilate!’ a blaze of light flashes through the Oratory, and the folding doors close with a loud noise.)
ANG. Oh! Heaven protect me!—(She falls motionless on the floor.)
 

END OF THE FOURTH ACT
 

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