When we were not allowed to venture o’er
The threshold, night and day kept close at spinning,
There stood she, with her paramour,
Upon the bench, before the door,
Or in the lane, and hour for hour
Scarce knew the end from the beginning.
’Tis time that she should go to school
And learn—on the repentance-stool!
Margaret.
But he will take her for his wife.
Eliza.
He marry her! not for his life!
An active youth like him can find,
Where’er he pleases, quarters to his mind.
Besides, he’s gone!
Margaret.
That was not fair.
Eliza.
And if he should come back, she’ll not enjoy him more.
Her marriage wreath the boys will tear,
And we will strew chopped straw before the door.[n9] [Exit.
Margaret. [going homewards]
How could I once so boldly chide
When a poor maiden stepped aside,
And scarce found words enough to name
The measure of a sister’s shame!
If it was black, I blackened it yet more,
And with that blackness not content,
More thickly still laid on the paint,
And blessed my stars, as cased in mail,
Against all frailties of the frail;
And now myself am what I chid before!—
Yet was each step that lured my slippery feet
So good, so lovely, so enticing sweet!
Scene VII.
An enclosed Area.
(In a niche of the wall an image of the Mater dolorosa, with flower-jugs before it.)
Margaret. [placing fresh flowers in the jugs]
O mother rich in sorrows,
Bend down to hear my cry!
