Mel. Ashamed of thee; No, if I yet endure, yet live, yet hope,—it is only because I would not die till I have redeemed the noble heritage I have lost—the heritage I took unstained from thee and my dead father—a proud conscience and an honest name. I shall win them back yet—heaven bless you! [Exit.
Widow. My dear Claude! How my heart bleeds for him.
[PAULINE looks down from above, and after a pause descends
Pauline. Not here!—he spares me that pain at least: so far he is considerate—yet the place seems still more desolate without him. Oh, that I could hate him—the gardener’s son!—and yet how nobly he—no—no—no I will not be so mean a thing as to forgive him!
Widow. Good morning, madam; I would have waited on you if I had known you were stirring.
Pauline. It is no matter, ma’am—your son’s wife ought to wait on herself.
Widow. My son’s wife—let not that thought vex you, madam—he tells me that you will have your divorce. And I hope I shall live to see him smile again. There are maidens in this village, young and fair, madam, who may yet console him.
Pauline. I dare say—they are very welcome—and when the divorce is got—he will marry again. I am sure I hope so. [Weeps.
Widow. He could have married the richest girl in the province, if he had pleased it; but his head was turned, poor child! he could think of nothing but you. [Weeps.
Pauline. Don’t weep, mother.