Who must speak to me? Whom do I see? Is it possible? You, Waitwell?
WAITWELL.
How happy I am to see our young lady again!
SARA.
Good God, what do you bring me? I hear already, I hear already; you bring me the news of my father's death! He is gone, the excellent man, the best of fathers! He is gone, and I--I am the miserable creature who has hastened his death.
WAITWELL.
Ah, Miss----
SARA.
Tell me, quick! tell me, that his last moments were not embittered by the thought of me; that he had forgotten me; that he died as peacefully as he used to hope to die in my arms; that he did not remember me even in his last prayer----