ISOBEL. Of that girl we call my daughter. You will always be looking for her. You will think that I shan’t see; you will try to hide it from me; but I shall see. Always you will be looking for her—and I shall see.
ROYCE. I shall find her.
ISOBEL. No, it’s too late now.
ROYCE (confidently). I shall find her. Not yet, perhaps; but some day. Perhaps it will be on a day in April, when the primroses are out between the wood-stacks, and there is a chatter of rooks in the tall elms. Then, a child again, she will laugh for joy of the clean blue morning, and I shall find her. And when I have found her, I shall say——
ISOBEL (gently). Yes?
ROYCE. I shall say, “Thank God, you are so like your mother—whom I love.”
ISOBEL. No, no, it can’t be true.
ROYCE. It is true. (Holding out his hands) I want you—not her.
ISOBEL. Oh, my dear!
[263](She puts out her hands to his. As he takes them, MARION comes in hurriedly. Their hands drop, and they stand there, looking happily at each other.)