Hugh Murray.
Wilfrid, be silent!
Wilfrid Brudenell.
How can you, living your level, humdrum life, gauge the penalty paid by those who love what is worth so much and yet so little! Ah, Murray, wait till you love and lose, as we have lost!
Hugh Murray.
Wait! [Leslie enters unnoticed.] Wait! Do you think you can read me a lesson in despair? Come to me when your boy’s passion has grown cold and I’ll describe to you the agony of a man’s hungry, hopeless, endless devotion.
Wilfrid Brudenell.
Murray!
Hugh Murray.
I love your sister! I have loved her from the moment I first saw her in the school-garden at Helmstead; but I loved her too reverently to disturb the simplicity of her childhood, and I waited. I waited! Waited for him to scorch into her cheeks the first flame of consciousness—waited for her to make him her idol—waited for him to break her heart! Waited for this!