Randal. (pushing the door a little open again) Your brother!—Oh, Honor! that’s what’s breaking my heart—(he sighs)—that’s what I wanted to say to you; and listen to me. No fear of your father, he’s gone down the road: I saw him as I come the short cut, but he didn’t see me.
Honor. What of my brother?—say, and go.
Randal. Ay, go—for ever, you’ll bid me, when I’ve said.
Honor. What! oh, speak, or I’ll drop.—(She no longer holds the door, but leans against a table.—RANDAL advances, and looks in.)
Randal. Don’t be frightened, then, dearest—it’s nothing in life but a fight at a fair. He’s but little hurted.
Honor. Hurted!—and by who? by you, is it?—Then all’s over.—(RANDAL comes quite in—HONOR, putting her hand before her eyes.)—You may come or go, for I’ll never love you more.
Randal. I expicted as much!—But she’ll faint!
Honor. I won’t faint: leave me, Mr. Randal.
Randal. Take this water from me, (holding a cup) it’s all I ask.
Honor. No need. (She sits down) But what’s this?—(Seeing his hand bound up.)