(The faithful servant has been true to his superiors ever since he was created, and never more true than at this moment; but his fidelity is founded on trust in nature, and to be untrue to it would be to be untrue to them. He lets the wood he has been gathering slip to the ground, and bows his sorrowful head. He turns to obey. Then affection for these great ones wells up in him.)
CRICHTON. My lady, let me work for you.
LADY MARY. Go.
CRICHTON. You need me so sorely; I can’t desert you; I won’t.
LADY MARY (in alarm, lest the others may yield). Then, father, there is but one alternative, we must leave him.
(LORD LOAM is looking yearningly at CRICHTON.)
TREHERNE. It seems a pity.
CATHERINE (forlornly). You will work for us?
TREHERNE. Most willingly. But I must warn you all that, so far, Crichton has done nine-tenths of the scoring.
LADY MARY. The question is, are we to leave this man?