s shade over our village school,
'Twas my delight to sit and hear Idonea
Repeat her Father's terrible adventures,
Till all the band of play-mates wept together;
And that was the beginning of my love.
And, through all converse of our later years,
An image of this old Man still was present,
When I had been most happy. Pardon me
If this be idly spoken.

OSWALD See, they come,
Two Travellers!

MARMADUKE (points) The woman [1] is Idonea.

OSWALD And leading Herbert.

MARMADUKE We must let them pass--
This thicket will conceal us.

[They step aside.]

[Enter IDONEA, leading HERBERT blind.]

IDONEA Dear Father, you sigh deeply; ever since
We left the willow shade by the brook-side,
Your natural breathing has been troubled.

HERBERT Nay,
You are too fearful; yet must I confess,
Our march of yesterday had better suited
A firmer step than mine.

IDONEA That dismal Moor--
In spite of all the larks that cheered our path,
I never can forgive it: but how steadily
_You_ paced along, when the bewildering moonlight
Mocked me with many a strange fantastic shape!--
I thought the Convent never would appear;
It seemed to move away from us: and yet,
That you are thus the fault is mine; for the air
Was soft and warm, no dew lay on the grass,
And midway on the waste ere night had fallen
I spied a Covert walled and roofed with sods--
A miniature; belike some Shepherd-boy,
Who might have found a nothing-doing hour
Heavier than work, raised it: within that hut
We might have made a kindly bed of heath,
And thankfully there rested side by side
Wrapped in our cloaks, and, with recruited strength,
Have hailed the morning sun. But cheerily, Father,--
That staff of yours, I could almost have heart
To fling't away from you: you make no use
Of me, or of my strength;--come, let me feel
That you do press upo