She pitied me! I did not need a voice To tell my love. She knew her sometime minion— And felt that she should never be adored ISIDORE. She could not tell you this? LORD IVON. She broke my heart As kindly as the fisher hooks the worm Pitying me the while! ISIDORE. And you LORD IVON. Lived on! But the remembrance irks me, and my throat Chokes with the utterance ! ISIDORE. Dear father! LORD IVON. Nay Thanks to sweet Mary Mother, it is past : ISIDORE. But there were brighter days In store. My mother, and this palace From this heart-broken hour, I stood again An old man and a stranger, at the door Of this same palace. I had been a slave For gold that time. My star had wrought with me! And I was richer than the wizard king Throned in the mines of Ind. I could not look On my innumerable gems, the glare Pained so my sun-struck eyes. My gold was count less. And Lady Clare ? ISIDORE. LORD IVON. I met upon the threshold Her very self-all youth, all loveliness So like the fresh-kept picture in my brain, That for a moment I forgot all else, And stagger'd back and wept. She passed me by With a cold look ISIDORE. Oh! not the Lady Clare! LORD IVON. Her daughter yet herself! But what a change ISIDORE. Sir! you did not! LORD IVON. Ay! I saw Th' indignant anger when her mother first Admitted the intoxicating tales Of wealth unlimited. And when she look'd Knowing all this! ISIDORE. You could not wed her, LORD IVON. I felt that I had lost My life else. I had wrung, for forty years, |