SCENE VIII.—Lord Seaford's room. LILIA and LORD SEAFORD. Her hand lies in his.
Lilia.
It may be true. I am bewildered, though.
I know not what to answer.
Lord S.
Let me answer:—
You would it were so—you would love me then?
[A sudden crash of music from a brass band in the street, melting away in a low cadence.]
Lilia (starting up). Let me go, my lord!
Lord S.
(retaining her hand).
Why, sweetest! what is this?
Lilia
(vehemently, and disengaging her hand).
Let me go. My husband! Oh, my white child!
[She hurries to the door, but falls.]
Lord S. (raising her). I thought you trusted me, yes, loved me, Lilia!
Lilia.
Peace! that name is his! Speak it again—I rave.
He thought I loved him—and I did—I do.
Open the door, my lord!