Child, if I thought his heart
Longed for the sight of you, I’d let you go;
Nay, I would make you! As it is—
But no,
It cannot be.
The Maiden (clasping her hands).
Lord, give me strength! I yield;
Go you the first. Ah! [Sobs.
The Lady.
Yours the nobler part;
I cannot yield. (And yet it is for him
I hold this “cannot” firm.) What might you wield
With that unflinching conscience-power! See, dim
Mine eyes—
There; we will go together—thus!
God help us both! [They enter the house.
Yes, we have come, we two,
His nearest, dearest. Is it perilous,
The fever? Where—above? That stair? We go—
Come, child—come, child.
Woman of the House.
Dear ladies, you should know
Before—
The Lady.
Come!
Woman of the House.