Page:The Family Legend.pdf/99

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Helen of Argyll! O God! was this the feeble wailing voice! Could heart of man so leave thee? thou, of all That lovely is, most lovely.—Woe is me! Some aid, I pray ye. (To Host and his Wife.) Bear her softly in, And wrap warm garments round her. Breathes she freely? Her eyes half open are, but life, alas! Is almost spent, and holds within her breast A weak uncertain seat. (Helen moves her hand.) She moves her hand:— She knows my voice.—O heaven, in mercy save her! Bear her more gently, pray ye:—Softly, softly! How weak and spent she is!

No marvel she is weak: we reach'd her not Until the swelling waters laved her girdle. And then to see her