That speak to thee: this is a friendly hand
That presses thine so kindly.
(Putting her hand upon Orra's, who gives a loud shriek, and shrinks from her with horror.)
What terror seizes thee?
Or. Take it away! It was the swathed dead!
I know its clammy, chill, and bony touch.
(Fixing her eyes fiercely on Eleanora.)
Come not again; I'm strong and terrible now:
Mine eyes have look'd upon all dreadful things;
And when the earth yawns, and the hell-blast sounds,
I'll 'bide the trooping of unearthly steps
With stiff-clench'd, terrible strength.
(Holding her clenched hands over her head with an air of grandeur and defiance.)
Hugh. (beating his breast.)
A murd'rer is a guiltless wretch to me.
Hart. Be patient; 'tis a momentary pitch;
Let me encounter it.
(Goes up to Orra, and fixes his eyes upon her, which she, after a moment, shrinks from and seeks to avoid, yet still, as if involuntarily, looks at him again.)
Or. Take off from me thy strangely-fasten'd eye:
I may not look upon thee, yet I must.
(Still turning from him, and still snatching a hasty look at him as before.)
