SIR LYOLF. But if he finds out that she has been here, that she has sent again and again for him, and that we have hidden it from him—and that she has died?
FATHER H. He mustn’t know it until he can bear to hear it. We must consider him first. Think what he must have suffered all these months. Now that at last he is learning to forget her, now that he is finding peace, how wrong, how cruel it would be to reopen his wounds!
SIR LYOLF. She said he promised to come to her if she sent for him. She begged so hard. She has come from England with the one hope of seeing him. I felt all the while that I was helping to crush the life out of her.
FATHER H. What did you tell her?
SIR LYOLF. That he had gone away alone for a few days in the mountains. That we didn’t exactly know where to find him, but that he might come back at any time, and that I would bring him to her the moment he returned.
FATHER H. Well, what more can we do?
SIR LYOLF. Nothing now, I suppose. I wish we had sent after him when she came last week. We could have found him before this. Besides, she doesn’t believe me.
FATHER H. Doesn’t believe you?
SIR LYOLF. She thinks that Michael is here with us, and that we are hiding it from him. I wish he’d come back.
FATHER H. If she is passing away, better it should all be over before he returns.