SCENE I.--_Rose Hill. The garden before_ PROF.

OLNEY'S _house_. YOUNG HENRY BOLTON _and_ ISABELLE; _she is weeping_. TIME _morning_.

HENRY BOLTON (_aside_).

I cannot leave her in this agony, (_looks at his watch_,) And yet the hour is nearly out. O Time! Turn back thy sands! take months from out my life For moments spared me now. I cannot leave her. (_To her._) Dear Isabelle, be comforted; I'll go And tell my father this sad tale you've told me. Fear not; he has a soul of nobleness-- He will consent; and, when you are my wife, You'll have a host of friends.

ISABELLE.

No! no! dear Henry; This must not, cannot be. I've given my word To him who hitherto I deemed my father, And who has been a father in his care-- He's dying now--that I will take his charge, Will teach his pupils, and insure a home To his poor wife and Alice, whom I love As an own sister. They gave me a home, Else I had been cast off e'en as the weed Is cast to perish. No! I must be firm; My duty is made plain; I must stay here.

HENRY BOLTON.

Oh! say not so, dear Isabelle! be mine. Would you waste youth, and health, and loveliness In this unthankful and laborious life? No! no! It must not be; I will provide For these.

ISABELLE.

Oh, Henry, torture me not thus Forcing my heart to strive against my soul. Your generous love but humbles me the more. Do not mistake me: 'tis not pride, but duty, That tells me we must part--and part for ever.

HENRY BOLTON.

And you say this to me! You never loved me-- While I have given to you my heart, soul, mind-- Made you the idol of my earthly hopes, My dream of angel-blessedness above! You never loved me!

ISABELLE (_weeping_).

Ah! it may be best That you should thus believe--should doubt my love. Tis but another grief for me to bear; And I had rather suffer than inflict A pang on you. But, Henry, if I were An heiress, with a fortune and a name, And friends to love and flatter me--I'd speak Of my heart's love for you: I cannot now-- A nameless, homeless, and forsaken child. Oh! let me be forgiven if I keep The station heaven appointed me--alone! Some must be sufferers in this world of care-- Victims for others, wearing out their lives, Like the poor Greenlanders, in night and winter. But God will strengthen all to bear their lot, If patiently they take the burden up. (_Weeping bitterly._)

HENRY BOLTON.

This must not, shall not be, dear Isabelle; Hear reason, if you will not love. Last night A vile attempt was made to burn this house, And carry you away. Dare you live here, When there'll be none to guard you? Isabelle, You must be mine at once--give me the right To keep you, like a jewel, in my bosom, Where not an eye but loves you shall behold you. Oh! say you will be mine.

ISABELLE.

It would be vain: Your father never would consent. A year You've promised him to wait--and, ere that time Is passed, you may forget the nameless girl.

HENRY BOLTON.

I will not wait a day. My word was passed When I believed this home of yours was safe Now--not a day. I go to ask my father. If he refuses me, I leave his house. I am of age to answer for myself.

ISABELLE (_calmly_).

Oh! not for me and mine must this be done: You must not leave your home and friends for me. Your future would be marred for ever, Henry No! leave me to the care of Providence.

HENRY BOLTON.

Dear Isabelle, with you I have the world. I'll hire two cottages together, love-- And we'll have one--your friends shall have the other. The garden-plots shall join, and you and Alice May have the flowers in partnership, as here. The flower of love will bloom spontaneously Beneath your smiles--and fortune's smiles I win In winning yours. Come with me to your father, The good and honest Olney. He will consent. [_Exeunt into the house. Scene, closes._