Collected Works (Vol. II)

132 THE GOD-EATER CRIOSDA. Ay, to-night! [A spasm overcomes him and he falls prone, Maurya. Criosda! You are ill, ill! Help! . [He zs stlent; she umnclasps the leopard’s skin, and busies herself in trying to restore him. Angus! Angus! [ Under her breath. Angus is the man—he saved poor Kenneth ! [ Aloud. No help comes Janet ! Angus! Oh, miserable! here. Criosda ! wake ! wake !— Oh, I must take him out—no man may enter here !—It is ill luck. Old Andrew found the passage ! and the next day he was dead —murdered, murdered ! Oh, how horrible! —what a horrible place this is with all its beauty and love! and my worship—oh, how strange it all is. Criosda! come! [She begins to carry him to the great door, then notices his white robe. This must come off: they must not see the holy robes. Criosda! my darling dear brother, do look at me! [She has removed the robes. CRIQSDA is now seen to be dressed ina dark- green tartan kilt and quast-military tunic with silver buttons, A dirk hangs at his stde. Its hilt ts of unusual shape, being surmounted by the circle and cross famtliar to visttors to Lona. Criosda! Ah yes, look up, look up! How pale you are! There is no blood in your lips. CRIOSDA. [Starting violently from her arms. Blood! Blood! Maurya. Lie still, dear, you are ill. Now! That is better. Come—can you walk a little ?—we will get Angus to help. CriospA. No! No! I am well! I am well! Go, go! If you love me, go. I cannot bear it longer. ad Your presence is my pain. There is nothing here. Nothing—leave me !. . MAURYA. Criosda, my own brother! . Criospa. Go! O devil! Devil! Maurya! [He reaches out a threatening arm against the empty throne. Sud- denly, with an inarticulate notse in his throat, he again collapses. Maurya. Oh! Oh! he must come out and be tended. Where isthe lever? Here— [Stzdl supporting him on one arm, she ratses a ponderous knocker and lets wt fall. A clang, sombre, and of surprising volume, resounds. The door slowly opens of itself. Criospa. [Recovering.| Who is at the door? Back, back. It is ill luck, ill luck, I say. Where is old Andrew? The faithful fool—Oh, the last dreadful look of his glazed eyes! What am I saying? Maurya, girl, go! I must tend the temple. I must be alone. It is not fitting— Maurya. You are ill; come and be tended yourself, first. CriospA. No! I am well. girl, not a God. Maurya. Oh! Oh! Have I done amiss? Am I not—— CRIOSDA. Stop, don’t ! LAsede.] I must be man—tut ! tut !— [Aloud.| Why, little sister, know Those whom we worship as our gods are gods. The power is mine: that art no skill resists. No God dethrones himself; none can. Will he, nill he, God must be God: it is a luckless fate for a girl’s dower, a thank- less way for a maiden’s feet. MAuRYA. Why, then, am I not the Goddess Maurya? Criospa. Yes! yes! of course, but only by my making. MAURYA. Was not my birth miraculous? and strange The death of the old people of this house That left you guardian? CRIOSDA. Yes, girl, that was strange. You are a