Guess'd the undoer, and disclosed the name. "Time went--the priest had still a steady trust In Mary's honour; but, to mine unjust, Divined some fraud--explored, and found a clue, There had been marriage, if the rites were due; Had learn'd Clanalbin's name, as one whose eye Had seen, whose witness might attest the tie. This news to Mary's father was convey'd The eve her infant on her heart was laid. "That night he left his home, he did not rest Till found Clanalbin--'Well, and he confess'd?' I cried impatient;--my informer's eye Flash'd fire--'Confess'd the fraud,' was his reply. 'The fraud!'--'The impious form, the vile disguise! Mock priest, false marriage, hell's whole woof of lies!' 'Lies!--had the sound earth open'd its abyss Beneath my feet, my soul had shudder'd less. Lies!--but not mine!--his own!--not mine such ill. O wife, I fly--to right, avenge, and claim thee still!'" "Thy hand--I wrong'd thee," Morvale falter'd, while His strong heart heaved--"Thou didst avenge the guile? Thou found'st thy friend--thy witness--well! and he?"-- "Had spoken truth, the truth of perfidy. This man had loved me in his own dark way, Loved for past kindness in our wilder day, Loved for the future, which, obscure for him, Link'd with my fate, with that grew bright or dim. I told thee how he warr'd with my intent, The strong dissuasion, and the slow consent: The slow consent but veil'd the labour'd wile; That I might yet be great, he grovell'd to be vile. _'Twas_ a false Hymen--a mock priest--and she The pure, dishonour'd--the dishonourer free!