MARMADUKE Ne’er may I own the heart
              That cannot feel for one, helpless as he is.

OSWALD Thou know’st me for a Man not easily moved,
              Yet was I grievously provoked to think
              Of what I witnessed.

MARMADUKE This day will suffice
              To end her wrongs.

OSWALD But if the blind Man’s tale
              Should yet be true?

MARMADUKE Would it were possible! 
              Did not the Soldier tell thee that himself,
              And others who survived the wreck, beheld
              The Baron Herbert perish in the waves
              Upon the coast of Cyprus?

OSWALD Yes, even so,
              And I had heard the like before:  in sooth
              The tale of this his quondam Barony
              Is cunningly devised; and, on the back
              Of his forlorn appearance, could not fail
              To make the proud and vain his tributaries,
              And stir the pulse of lazy charity. 
              The seignories of Herbert are in Devon;
              We, neighbours of the Esk and Tweed; ’tis much
              The Arch-Impostor—­

MARMADUKE Treat him gently, Oswald: 
              Though I have never seen his face, methinks,
              There cannot come a day when I shall cease
              To love him.  I remember, when a Boy
              Of scarcely seven years’ growth, beneath the Elm
              That casts its 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.