Forgive me Rachel—
I do ... prepare thyself, my dear Elizabeth, gird up thy loins; for the day of travail and bitter sorrow is nigh to thee.
Here am I sister! And ready to obey thee at the risk of my life. What am I to do?
I advise thee to fly, for if they seek thy death, it is for my sake—I shall go too.
Dear sister—
Well?—
Stoop thy head, I pray thee, continued Elizabeth—I—I—(in a whisper)—I hope he’ll go with thee.
With me?—
With us, I mean—
Why not say so?