Morris. If you could know How it has been with me, since I saw you!
Jean.
What can I know of your mind?—For my own
Is hard enough to know,—save that I'm glad
You've come again,—and that I should have cried
If you'd not kept your word.
Morris. My word?—to see Hamish does nothing to you?
Jean.
The fiend take Hamish!
Do you think I'ld be afraid of him?—It's you
I ought to be afraid of, were I wise.
Morris. Good God, she's crying!
Jean.
Cannot you understand?
Morris.
O darling, is it so? I prayed for this
All night, and yet it's unbelievable.
Jean. You too, Morris?
Morris.
There's nothing living in me
But love for you, my sweetheart.