ANNA—[With a cry of joy.] Mat!
BURKE—[Slowly.] If 'tis truth you're after telling, I'd have a right, maybe, to believe you'd changed—and that I'd changed you myself 'til the thing you'd been all your life wouldn't be you any more at all.
ANNA—[Hanging on his words—breathlessly.] Oh, Mat! That's what I been trying to tell you all along!
BURKE—[Simply.] For I've a power of strength in me to lead men the way I want, and women, too, maybe, and I'm thinking I'd change you to a new woman entirely, so I'd never know, or you either, what kind of woman you'd been in the past at all.
ANNA—Yes, you could, Mat! I know you could!
BURKE—And I'm thinking 'twasn't your fault, maybe, but having that old ape for a father that left you to grow up alone, made you what you was. And if I could be believing 'tis only me you—
ANNA—[Distractedly.] You got to believe it. Mat! What can I do? I'll do anything, anything you want to prove I'm not lying!
BURKE—[Suddenly seems to have a solution. He feels in the pocket of his coat and grasps something—solemnly.] Would you be willing to swear an oath, now—a terrible, fearful oath would send your soul to the divils in hell if you was lying?
ANNA—[Eagerly.] Sure, I'll swear, Mat—on anything!
BURKE—[Takes a small, cheap old crucifix from his pocket and holds it up for her to see.] Will you swear on this?