"Well, I will see her. No, I will not."
"It is too late, Edmund. You must see me," said a sweet voice, and a lady, attired in mourning weeds, stood beside him. "It is but seven months, Edmund, since we lost our father. Shall his children rend and devour each other?"
"I do not want to rend and devour. I am no cannibal; but, Elgitha, your wicked husband--"
"Stay, Edmund, do not slander the husband before his wife."
"This is a business! What am I to say? I cannot dissemble, and pretend to love him, were he ten times my brother-in-law."
"Nor can I ask it," said a deep voice behind, and Edric stood before Edmund, his eyes cast down, his hands meekly clasped. "Edmund, I have often deeply injured you, and betrayed your confidence."
"You have indeed."
"But now I repent me of my wickedness. It burdens me so heavily that, but for your sister, I would retire into a monastery, and there end my days."
"It would be the best thing you could do."
"It would indeed."