Helen. Henry!
Capt. G. Are you in earnest, Helen? Did you suppose that we were mad enough to leave you here? You'll not go with us? But you will, by Heaven!
Helen. Henry! Mother!—Nay, Henry, this is vain. I shall stay here, I shall—I shall stay here,—so help me Heaven.
Capt. G. Helen Grey! Is that young lioness there my sometime sister?—my delicate sister?—with her foot planted like iron, and the strength of twenty men nerving her arm?
Helen. Let go.—I shall stay here.
Capt. G. Well, have your way, young lady, have your way; but—Mother, if you choose to leave that mad girl here, you can,—but as for this same Everard Maitland, look you, my lady, if I don't stab him to his heart's core, never trust me.
(He goes out—Mrs. Grey follows him to the door.)
Mrs. G. Stay, Henry,—stay. What shall we do?
Capt. G. Do!—Indeed, a straight waistcoat is the only remedy I know of, Madam, for such freaks as these. If you say so, she shall go with us yet.
Mrs. G. Hear me. This is no time for passion now Hear me, Henry. This Maitland, Tory as he is, is her betrothed husband, and she has chosen her fate with him; we cannot keep her with us; nay, with what we have now seen, it would be vain to think of it, to wish it even. She must go to him,—it but remains to see that she meets him safely. Noon is the hour appointed for his coming. Could we not stay till then?