ANDERSON.
Do you think it would be better to know that I had run away from my post at the first sign of danger?
JUDITH.
(bitterly). Oh, you won’t go. I know it. You’ll stay; and I shall go mad.
ANDERSON.
My dear, your duty—
JUDITH.
(fiercely). What do I care about my duty?
ANDERSON.
(shocked). Judith!
JUDITH.
I am doing my duty. I am clinging to my duty. My duty is to get you away, to save you, to leave him to his fate. (Essie utters a cry of distress and sinks on the chair at the fire, sobbing silently.) My instinct is the same as hers—to save him above all things, though it would be so much better for him to die! so much greater! But I know you will take your own way as he took it. I have no power. (She sits down sullenly on the railed seat.) I’m only a woman: I can do nothing but sit here and suffer. Only, tell him I tried to save you—that I did my best to save you.
ANDERSON.
My dear, I am afraid he will be thinking more of his own danger than of mine.
JUDITH.
Stop; or I shall hate you.
ANDERSON.
(remonstrating). Come, am I to leave you if you talk like this! your senses. (He turns to Essie.) Essie.
ESSIE.
(eagerly rising and drying her eyes). Yes?