Burgum. [Calling from without.] Come, Bertha.
Bertha. [To Burgum.] Yes!
[To Chatterton.] Why so?
Chatterton. If Barrett recommend me strong,
I sail for Africa as surgeon's mate.
Bertha. Indeed!—but then you will return.
Chatterton. Perhaps.
Bertha. I will not say good-by—good-night.
Chatterton. [Kissing her hand.] Farewell.
[Chatterton sinks upon chair, his elbows resting on table, his face upon his hands. Bertha pauses at doorway, looks back pityingly, and then goes out.]
Chatterton. [Raising his head.]
Alone, again alone, yet more alone
Than e'er I was before. [After a pause.] The hope is vain.
O there is consolation in the thought
That though a puppet in the hands of fate
A man is born and lives—made now a king,
And now, the sport for mocking enemies,
He has the power when evils hedge him round,
And joy and love and hope have fled for aye,
To laugh! ring down the drop, and end the play.
Enter Mrs. Angell.