SISTER. Yes, sir. I think it is.
ROSE. Good-bye, sir—thank you for all your goodness. I—I—— (Beginning to sob again.)
MICH. No, no, you are forgetting. I must see a little smile before you go. Look, Andrew. (ANDREW turns round.) For your father’s sake. When you have gone you will like him to remember that the last time he saw your face it wore a smile. That’s brave! Good-bye! Good-bye!
(ROSE with great effort forces a smile and goes off with the Sister. A moment or two later she is seen to pass the window sobbing in the Sister’s arms.)
ANDR. Look! Oh, sir, was it bound to be in public, before everybody who knew her?
MICH. Believe me, Andrew, if my own sister, if my own child had been in your daughter’s place, I would have counselled her to act as your daughter has done.
ANDR. She’ll never hold up her head again.
MICH. Would you rather that she held up her head in deceit and defiance, or that she held it down in grief and penitence? Think what you and she have endured this last year, the deceit, the agony, the shame, the guilt!
ANDR. I can’t think of anything except her standing up in the church. I shall never forget it.
MICH. Tell me you know I would willingly have spared you and her if it had been possible.