Annie. Helen Grey!
Helen. It was a dream,—it was but a foolish dream. It must not be thought of now,—it will never do. Bid my mother come here, I am ready now.
Annie. Ready, Helen!—ready?—in that dressing-gown, and your hair—see here,—are you ready, Helen?
Helen. Yes,—bid her come.
Annie. Heaven only knows what you mean with this wild talk of yours, but if you are not mad indeed, I intreat you, sister, waste no more of this precious time.
Helen. No, no,—we must not indeed. It was wrong, but I could not—go,—make haste, bid her come.
Annie. She is crazed, certainly!
[Goes out.
(Helen stands with her arms folded, and her eye fixed on the door.)
(Mrs. Grey enters.)