VIII.

But Ruthven's absence now, if not to grief, At least to one vague terror, gave relief: For days, for weeks, some cause, unknown to all, Had won the lonely Master from his hall.-- Much Seaton marvell'd! half disposed to blame; } "Gone, and no word ev'n absence to proclaim!" } When, sudden as he went, the truant came. } Franker his brow, and brighter was his look, And with a warmer clasp his host's wan hand he took: "Joy to thee, friend, thy race is not yet o'er, Thy fortunes still thy genius shall restore: Thy house from ruin reascends, to stand Firm as of old, a column of the land.-- Joy, Seaton, joy!"--"O mock me not--Explain! The bark once sunk beneath the obdurate main, No tide throws up!"--"New galleons Fortune gives. Fortune ne'er dies for him whose honour lives."-- "Is fortune not the usurer?--Kind while yet The hand that borrows may repay the debt; When all is lavish'd, she hath nought to lend!" "But can she give not? Hast thou call'd me Friend?" He paused, and glanced on Constance--while his breast Heaved with the tumult which the lip represt. Till she, but looking on her father's face, In his joy joyous,--sprang from his embrace, Before the Benefactor paused, and bow'd; Falter'd a blessing, knelt, and wept aloud: "Not there, not there, O Constance," Ruthven cried, "Here be thy place--for ever side by side! Thanks--and to me!--Ah no! the boon be thine, Thy heart the generous, and the grateful mine. Oh pardon--if my soul its suit delay'd Till the world's dross the worldly equal made; And left to thee to grant and me receive Man's earliest treasures--Paradise and Eve! Beloved one, speak! Not mine the silver tongue, And toil leaves manhood nought that lures the young; But in these looks is truth--these accents, love: And in thy faith all that survive above The graves of Time, as in Elysium meet!-- Hope flies to thee as to its last retreat." Speechless she heard--till, as he paused, the voice Of the fond Sire usurp'd and doom'd the choice: "May she repay thee!" In his own he drew Her hand and Ruthven's, smiled and join'd the two-- "Ah! could I make thee happy,"--thus she said And ceased:--her sentence in his eyes she read-- Eyes that the rashness of delight reveal: Love gave the kiss, and Fate received the seal.

[A] Imitated from Horace (Lib. ii., Od. 3).

Qua pinus ingens albaque populus Umbram hospitalem consociare amant Ramis, et obliquo laborat Lympha fugax trepidare rivo.--_Horat. Carm._, ii. 3.

PART THE THIRD.