Dr. Thorne. After all, there is another life. I really did not think it. (Stops and passes his hand over his eyes; muses.) God knows—if there is a God—how it is with me. If I have never done anything, or been anything, or felt anything that was fit to last, I have loved one woman, and her only—and thought high thoughts for her, and felt great emotions for her, and I could forget myself for her sake—and I would have had joy to suffer for her, and I’ve been a better man for love of her. And I have loved her,—oh, I have so loved her that ten thousand deaths could not murder that living love! (Falters.) And I spoke to her—I said to her—like any low and brutal fellow, any common wife-tormentor—I went from her dear presence to this. (Brokenly.) ... And here there is neither speech nor language. Neither earth nor heaven, nor my love ... nor my shame ... can give my famished eyes the sight of her dear face,—nor my sealed lips the power to say, Forgive!
(The organ can be heard from the church.)
Dr. Thorne (without noticing the anthem). I will not bear it. No—no. I will not! I will go to her! (Starts to rush up the street, whose familiar precincts he seems for the first time to recognize.) Why, there is my own house! She can’t be two rods away. I wonder if a dead man can get into his own home? Helen? (His feet lag heavily; he moves like one who is wading in water. He makes the motions of one who withstands a strong blast or an invisible force. He is beaten back. Suddenly he raves.) You are playing with me! You torture a miserable man. Who and what are you? Show me what I have to fight, and let me wrestle for my liberty! Though I am a ghost, let me wrestle like a man! Let me to my wife! Give way and let me seek her! (Slowly recedes, as if beaten back; bows his head. The man sobs.)
Choir from the church (chant).
“God is a Spirit.
God is a Spirit.
And they that worship Him”—
(Choir breaks off. The organ sounds on.)
(Dr. Thorne seems to listen, but with a kind of anger. He slowly recedes, as if pushed back.)
[Exit Dr. Thorne.
Enter the Veiled Woman. (She stands
mutely and wretchedly. Watches the
house. Wrings her hands, but makes
no sound.)
Enter Mrs. Thorne. (Within the house;
can be seen plainly from the street
through the window. She advances
and draws the shade still higher;
stands close to the window, pressing
her hands against the sides of her
eyes; looks out.)
(The Veiled Woman shrinks at the sight of Mrs. Thorne.)