Mad. V. Ay, girl! this Jew would have thy very
heart's blood!

He doth demand with brutal insolence
The payment of the sum already due -
Or pledge of jewels equal to the value-
Or some rich friend as a security!

[She throws herself into a chair, and
wrings her hands.

We are undone! poor Clara, we are beggars-
In the hard hands of a usurious Jew!

Raym. Madam, what sum requires this usurer?
Mad. V. Far more than we can raise! three

thousand crowns

But Clara's diamonds will be pledge sufficient --
Why do you not obey me, Clara? fetch them!
Sir, you must pardon such a use of them,
But we are poor, and poverty is forced

To make such sacrifice as wealth conceives not.

Raym. Nay, nay, my Clara, you shall keep your baubles!

The debt shall be discharged · where is the man? Mad. V. No, dearest sir, you shall not thus o'erburthen

Yourself with our distresses!

Raym

"Tis my pleasure! Three thousand crowns, you say, is his demand? Mad. V. Three thousand crowns, sir, with a large

arrear

Of shameful interest.

Raym.

Raym.
It must! it shall!
Money has hitherto been plentiful-
Apply, sir, where you have applied before!
Bar. I have applied; and this was all my answer.
[He produces a small sealed packet.
Raym. Well, sir, and what is this?

Bar.
Nay, break the seal!
Raym. [opening the packet.] What things are these?
Bar.
With tears, she bade me say
That she had nought else left - her wedding-ring,

And her dead husband's Bible.

Raym.
Oh, my mother!
Thou cruel, godless wretch; hast thou been draining
From that heart-broken mother, her poor all!
Was it from her thou got'st the easy gold
With which thou sinn'dst,-and leddest me to sin!
Bar. Did you not bid me get you gold; and swore

May be four thousand crowns? You cared not whence, nor how?

Raym.
Thou heartless sinner;
Thou pander to iniquity! May heaven
Visit this mother's sorrow on thy head!
When came this message to thee?

Bar.
Full seven days since.
Raym. Full seven days since! and yet you told

me not.

Bar. You gave me not the chance! Have you
not shunned me?

Have you not flung at me opprobrious looks
Whene'er we met, and passed, as if I were
A loathsome leper?
Raym.

Cause I hated thee-
Because I know thee! and I fain would not
Breathe of the air thy presence hath polluted.
Bar. "Twere better that we parted!
Raym.
It were best.
Bar. I thought not to have found you, sir, un-
grateful!

Raym. I do not owe thee gratitude, but curses!
Bar. We have had many happy days together,-
We have had jovial nights. I would not part
From an old boon companion, with a grudge.
When this hot fit is by, you'll need my service,
And I'll attend your summons.

Wom. Ah, 't is some man of sorrowSome conscience-stricken prodigal, may be — Perchance the son of Madame Berthier! Perchance, say I-I know it was her son. Christ give him penitence; for a mighty sin [He hastens out. Lies on his soul- the blood of that good mother!

Kind, generous heart!
For us he spent his substance; and we now,
Like common worldlings, owing him so much,
Forsake him in his need. No, mother, no;
In good or ill, I never will desert him!
My heart is his, and so shall be my hand,
If e'er I wed!

Mad. V. Thou wed a ruined man-
[She weeps. A man, for whom the prison doors do gape!

Thou marry Raymond! when Count Siemar woos.
I will disown thee, Clara, if thou do,
And may the curse of poverty cling to you,

Like cureless leprosy!

Clara.

Hush, dearest mother!
Surely thou dost not know what true love is!
To shrine within the heart's core, one dear image;
To think of it all day, and all the night;

To have sweet dreams of it! Thou dost not know
What 't is to be beloved; to see the soul
Beaming from eyes all tenderness and truth!

And hope and self-esteem; and that calm joy,
The fruit of virtuous days, and tranquil nights!
My friends, the early and the kind, are lost;
My cold neglect has broken a mother's heart,
'Mid shameful, miserable poverty. -
My lawless life has tarnished a good name;
My thriftless cost has ruined a fair fortune-
My sinful course has shattered a strong frame!
Men, that I should have scorned in my pure years,
Are now my sole companions- thus I'm fallen!
Oh, that I were again a happy boy,

Mad. V. Wild, raving foolery! Tell me not of love, Conning my book beneath the orchard-trees,

It is a word of mere conventional use,

That passes among men like forged coin,
Current at first; till time, that all things proves,
Reveals it of base metal!

Ciara.

You forget

Without a care from morn to eventide!
Where are those lovely visions of my youth-
Fair fame, and Adeline; and sons, and daughters,
Growing around us in my native home —
Where? with the things that were-my peace of mind,

How Raymond paid the Jew-and how since then My innocence, my health and my good name!
He has heaped favours on us!

Mad. V.

Tell me not
Of favours everlastingly, and gifts!
I'm weary of their memory, as of him.
To-morrow eve Count Siemar will be here;
And I command thee, meet him graciously;
And wear thy velvet bodice and thy diamonds!
Clara. I'll wear my diamonds for no man but
Raymond!

But if thou love me, dearest, best of mothers,
Urge me not thus! I do not love Count Siemar—
My heart aches, and my soul is full of sorrow!

Mad. V. Let go my hand! hast thou not heard my
words!

Let go my hand, for I have much to do.

Thou know'st my will; nor shall I pardon thee
If thou dare disobey!
[She goes out.

Clara.
"Tis seven days
Since I beheld his face; seven weary days-
And caumny since then, his precious name
Hath charactered in lies; and turned men's hearts
From him—ay, let them turn; and woman's smile,
Let it change too-let it become a proverb,
A word despised and loathed, it matters not-
To me, he still is Raymond! Shame with him
I would prefer, to glory with another;

Even were he richer, nobler than Count Siemar!
But let me hence, and in my silent chamber
Nerve my sick heart to meet the morrow's guest.
If so,
I must- vet will I not deceive
Count Siemar in this matter!

[A bell tolls the first hour of the morning.
Midnight is past — the morning hath begun ;
My doom will be, one night, without a morning!
Millions on millions from the earth have passed
Unto the eternal day; but I am one
Made for the blackness of enduring night;
A reprobate! cast by the Eternal Father
From his great scheme of pardon; the dear blood
Of Christ was never shed for my redemption;
And if I should bow down and cry for mercy,
My cry would be a damning blasphemy!

[He paces the room in despair; then throws
open the window and looks out.

So shone the moon, so looked the paly stars
In the gone years of my pure innocence!
"T is even so!— and this is my birth-night!
Alas, alas, and where is that kind mother,
That made of old, this eve a festival?
The solemnest, yet the happiest of the year!
Of old it passed not a forgotten time,
Unnoted, but for some chance circumstance!
Of old I had a memory for all joy;
And read my Bible, and believed that Christ,
Blessing the pure in heart, had blessed even me;
And that belief brought blessings, like the visits
Of angels entertained unawares.

Of old I laid me down to rest at night,
And said my prayers, and put my trust in God!
Of old I had no fears, nor black remorse,
That sered my soul and withered up my being;
Love, peace, and joy, and duty, all fulfilled,
[She goes out. Made every day a joyful festival!

SCENE II.
Night-Raymond's chamber, lighted by a lamp;
Raymond, in a loose dressing-gown, starting from
the bed on which he had thrown nimself:

The furies were no fiction! Sad Orestes
Fled not from land to land from a vain shadow!
They are no fiction would to heaven they were!
No! they are present with me, night and day-
Spectres of days, and months, and years misspent ;
Of talents wasted hopes which I have murdered!
Too late I know my folly-peace is gone;

Why died I not in that good time of grace;
In those most blessed days of innocence,
That knew not sin, and therefore knew not sorrow?
[He turns slowly away; and seeing his
father's Bible, opens it and reads.
"I say unto you, that likewise joy shall be in hea-
ven over one sinner that repenteth, more than over
ninety and nine just persons, who need no repent-

ance."

[He closes the book, covers his face with his hands, and weeps bitterly. A loud knocking is heard at his door, and Bartolin enters, hurriedly.

Why should we part ere morning light! Come, pledge me in this brimming cup— Raymond [rushing upon him with his dagger.] And she consented to be yours to-night! Yours, traitor! take you this-and this-and this, [He looks at a small billet. For a bride's portion! [He stabs him many times.] Count S. [drawing his weapon.] Help! 'gainst a murderer! Ah, villain! is it you?

Gloomy and lone, a place of guilt it seems, [He listens for some time. Yet will I enter, for I wildly long He's dead! alas, all's over with him now! To see again a human countenance ! 2nd W. Ah, what a cruel murderUpon his soul!