COREY rises. They embrace.
COREY. I'm glad to see you, ay, right glad to see you.
GARDNER. And I am most sorely grieved to see you thus.
COREY. Of all the friends I had in happier days, You are the first, ay, and the only one, That comes to seek me out in my disgrace! And you but come in time to say farewell, They've dug my grave already in the field. I thank you. There is something in your presence, I know not what it is, that gives me strength. Perhaps it is the bearing of a man Familiar with all dangers of the deep, Familiar with the cries of drowning men, With fire, and wreck, and foundering ships at sea!
GARDNER. Ah, I have never known a wreck like yours! Would I could save you!
COREY.
Do not speak of that.
It is too late. I am resolved to die.
GARDNER. Why would you die who have so much to live for?— Your daughters, and—
COREY.
You cannot say the word.
My daughters have gone from me. They are married;
They have their homes, their thoughts, apart from me;
I will not say their hearts,—that were too cruel.
What would you have me do?
GARDNER.
Confess and live.
COREY.
That's what they said who came here yesterday
To lay a heavy weight upon my conscience
By telling me that I was driven forth
As an unworthy member of their church.
GARDNER. It is an awful death.