Ger. Constance.
Con. (starting up, and flying to him with her hands clasped) Arthur! Arthur! don't go. I can't bear you to go. It's all my fault, but do forgive me! Oh, do, do—dear Arthur! Don't go to-morrow. I shall be miserable if you do.
Ger. But why, my—why, Constance?
Con. I was your Constance once.
Ger. But why should I not go? Nobody wants me here.
Con. Oh, Arthur! how can you be so cruel? Can it be that—? Do say something. If you won't say anything, how can I know what you are thinking—what you wish? Perhaps you don't like—I would—I have—I won't—Oh, Arthur! do say something.
Ger. I have nothing to say, Constance.
Con. Then I have lost you—altogether! I dare say I deserve it. I hardly know. God help me! What can I have done so very wicked? Oh! why did you take me out of the streets? I should have been used to them by this time! They are terrible to me now. No, no, Arthur! I thank you—thank you—with my very soul! What might I not have been by this time! But I used to lie in that corner, and I daren't now!
Enter COL. G. behind.
It was a happy time, for I had not offended you then. Good-bye. Won't you say one word to me?—You will never see me again.