Joan. I should go riding in my own chaise, mistress, if ’twas him.
Clara. But, Joan, either of these men would have to know the truth before there could be any marriage.
Joan. I knows that full well, mistress. But let one of them just offer hisself. By that time my heart and his would be so closely twined together like, ’twould take more nor such a little thing as my station being low to part us.
[Clara sits very still for a few moments, looking straight before her, lost in thought. Joan sinks on to a chair by the table as though suddenly tired out, and she begins to cry gently.
Clara. Listen, Joan. I’m one for the straight paths. I like to walk in open fields and over the bare heath. Only times come when one is driven to take to the ways which are set with bushes and with briars.
Joan. [Lifting her head and drying her eyes.] O mistress, I feel to be asking summat as is too heavy for you to give.
Clara. But for a certain thing, I could never have lent myself to this acting game of yours, Joan.
Joan. No, mistress?
Clara. Only that, to-day, my heart too has gone from my own keeping.
Joan. O mistress, you don’t mean to say as his lordship have followed us down already.