Owen. I’ve been too sudden for her!
Widow. No, dear—not a bit, only just give me time—to feel it. And is it true? And am I in no dream now? And where’s Mabel, dear?
Owen. Gone to the well, and Gilbert with her. We met her, and he turned off with her, and I come on to tell you, mother dear.
Widow. Make me clear and certain; for I’m slow and weak, dear. Who told you all this good? and is it true?—And my child Mabel mavourneen!—Oh, tell me again it’s true.
Owen. True as life. But your lips is pale still, and you all in a tremble. So lean on me, mother dear, and come out into God’s open air, till I see your spirit come back—and here’s your bonnet, and we’ll meet Mabel and Gilbert, and we’ll all go up to the castle to give thanks to the lady.
Widow. (looking up to heaven) Thanks! Oh, hav’n’t I great reason to be thankful, if ever widow had!
{Exeunt, WIDOW leaning on OWEN.