)
Let go, who stays me?--where's my sister?
(_Captain Grey enters_.)
_Grey_. Ha! Murderer! art satisfied?
_Mait_. Ay.
_Grey_. What, do you mock me, Sir?
_Mait_. Let her be. She is mine!--all mine! my love, my bride,--my
_bride_?--_Murderer_?--Stay!--Don't glare at me! I know you, Sir. I can
hurl off these mountain shadows yet.--They'll send some stronger devil
ere they wrench this hold from me! I know you well. What make you here?
_Grey_. Madness!--there's little wonder!--It's the only good that Heaven
has left for him! My lovely playfellow,--my sister, is it so indeed?
Alas! all gently lies this hand in mine. There is no angry strength here
now. Helen!--Ah! would to God our last words had not been in bitterness.
_Mait_. He weeps. I never thought to see tears there. List!--she should
not lie there thus. Strange it should move you so!--Think it a picture
now. 'Tis but a well-wrought painting after all, if one but thinks so.
See,--'tis but a sleeping girl, with the red summer light upon her
cheek, and the slight breeze stirring her golden hair. Mark you that
shoulder's grace?--They come.
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