CECIL (furiously). Out of my sight, vile, cringing wretch! Not even your shadow will I tolerate in my presence!
(A third shell bursts nearer still.)
PORTENTOUS VOICE (thunderously). Set not your affections on things below.
(CECIL pauses in a listening attitude).
CECIL (more quietly, and with a new look in his eyes). I think I have forgotten something,—something rather important.
(Enter the twin Spirits of HONOUR and DUTY, Spirits of a very noble and courtly mien.)
CECIL (simply and humbly). Gentlemen, to my sorrow and loss I had forgotten you. You are doubly welcome.
THE SPIRIT OF DUTY. Young sir, we thank you. After all, it is but right that in this hour of danger and dismay we should be with you.
THE SPIRIT OF HONOUR. I am so old a friend of you and yours, Cecil, that you may surely trust me. I was your father's friend. Side by side we stood in every crisis of his varied life. Together faced the Dervish rush at Abu Klea, and afterwards in India took our part in many a desperate unnamed frontier tussle. I helped him woo your mother, spoke for him when he put up for Parliament, advised him when he visited the city. In fact, I was his companion all through life, and I stood beside his bed at death.