BERTHA.
Yes, dear. I waited for you. Heavens, what I suffered then—when we lived in Rome! Do you remember the terrace of our house?
RICHARD.
Yes.
BERTHA.
I used to sit there, waiting, with the poor child with his toys, waiting till he got sleepy. I could see all the roofs of the city and the river, the Tevere. What is its name?
RICHARD.
The Tiber.
BERTHA.
[Caressing her cheek with his hand.] It was lovely, Dick, only I was so sad. I was alone, Dick, forgotten by you and by all. I felt my life was ended.
RICHARD.
It had not begun.
BERTHA.
And I used to look at the sky, so beautiful, without a cloud and the city you said was so old: and then I used to think of Ireland and about ourselves.
RICHARD.
Ourselves?
BERTHA.
Yes. Ourselves. Not a day passes that I do not see ourselves, you and me, as we were when we met first. Every day of my life I see that. Was I not true to you all that time?
RICHARD.
[Sighs deeply.] Yes, Bertha. You were my bride in exile.