The Man.
Be it so, then; and perhaps the Everlasting Goodness will yet hold His hand when He sees an aged couple on their knees.
[They kneel down, with their faces towards the corner where stands the Being in Grey, and clasp their hands in an attitude of prayer.]
Prayer of the Mother.
O God, I beseech Thee to spare the life of our son. One thing, one thing only, can my tongue find to say unto Thee: Spare us our son, O God! Spare us our son! Nought but this can I ask of Thee, for all around me is dark—all around me is slipping beneath my feet, so that I am utterly bewildered and astray. In the agony of my soul I beseech Thee, O God—again, and yet again—to spare us our son, to spare us our son. Forgive me this poor prayer of mine, but indeed I can do no better. Thou Thyself knowest that I can do no better. Look down upon me, look down upon me! Dost thou not see my trembling head, my trembling hands—ah, my trembling hands, O God? Have mercy, then, upon our child. He is yet so young that the birthmark is not faded from his right hand. Suffer him, then, I beseech Thee, to live a little longer—just a little longer—just a little longer. Have mercy upon him, have mercy upon him!
[She breaks off into silent weeping, and covers her face with her hands. The Man does not glance at her, but gives utterance, in his turn, to the following prayer.]
Prayer of the Father.
O God, dost Thou see me praying to Thee? Dost Thou see that I have bent my aged knees, and am crouching in the dust—that I am kissing the very earth in token of my supplication? Perchance at times I have offended Thee? If that be so, yet grant me Thy forgiveness. Perchance at times I have been insolent and presuming—I have blamed Thee for my misfortunes—I have demanded when I should have asked? Yet now, I pray Thee, forgive me these things. Punish me if Thou wilt—punish me howsoever Thou pleasest: only spare us the life of our son. Yea, spare him, I beseech Thee. I do not ask this of Thy mercy, nor of Thy pity, but of Thy justice: for Thou art old in years, as even am I, and wouldst the better comprehend me for that. Evil men have tried to kill our son—cruel, pitiless men who lurked in dark places and cast stones at him. Yea, they lurked in dark places, and cast stones at him, the cowardly villains! Yet suffer them not to have achieved their evil purpose, seeing that they are men who do offend Thee with their misdeeds, and pollute Thy earth with their abominations. Staunch Thou, rather, the blood of our beloved son, and preserve to us his life. When Thou didst take away from me my riches, did I beseech and importune Thee to give me back my possessions, my friends, my fame, my talents? Did I, O God? No, never did I. I asked not even that my talents should be restored to me; and Thou Thyself knowest that a man's talents are more to him than life itself. Perchance, thought I, these things must be; so I bore them—bore them ever without complaining. Yet now I beseech Thee—here on my knees, and kissing the very dust of earth before Thee—that Thou wilt restore to us our little son. Yea, I kiss the very earth in token of my supplication.
[The Man and his Wife rise to their feet again. The Being in Grey has listened to these prayers without making any sign.]
The Man's Wife.