Mrs. S. If it's your Master, bring him here—in through the window of Bev's room. Keep away from the front of the house.
Cupid. Yes, Mistis. Dis ole fool nigger can do dat.
[Exit.
Mrs. S. (comes gently to Fair who stands looking down with a drawn look of suffering). Fair, my baby child, would it not have been better—could it have been easier—had you told me.
Fair. (coming to her arms). I meant to tell you mother—but, oh! I was afraid. The old days seemed so far away, and I so weak and foolish! And then he went into the army and came down here in arms against his people! The night you went to George, he asked me, and—I told a lie! I said I did not love him. But to-night, with the wild chance of saving Carter (she looks up into her mother's face and smiles), I told the truth!
Mrs. S. (softly kissing her). And it was best. My heart's own child! Your only happiness was there.
Char. (who has stood by the window listening). Best! What do we know about things that are best? And love and truth—what do we know of these? Are they not torn from us, trampled down, ground beneath our feet? And happiness—is it for us? Ah! no, no. For, are not our hearts crushed down in the cold black earth that covers those we love? What is there in this life for us? We are grown old before our time. Ah! in God's name, don't speak of love or happiness when it is such a mockery to us and those we love!
[She sinks limply down upon the sofa, burying her face in her hands.
[Mrs. S. kneels by the sofa, taking one hand in hers.