Mrs. Tru. O, I am quite well—I mean—I need no one—no one at all! Goodnight, my dears! (Exit)
Hel. (Politely) And is there anything which you must have out to-night, cousin Catherine?
Mrs. Del. Sit down, Helen. (Helen takes a chair) You have never loved me, but I have always had a warm heart for you, little girl. And you will take a warning from me in good part, won’t you?
Hel. A good warning, yes.
Mrs. Del. I told you about meeting Mr. Poe last summer in Normandy. But—I did not tell you how often I met him. (Helen rises, then Mrs. Delormis rises) Helen, I prove my love for you by saying what it is so hard to utter to your pure self. My life has not been—all you would wish it to be—and Mr. Poe knows more about it than any other man.
Hel. You lie! I have seen his soul!
(She goes to door and opens it for Mrs. Delormis to pass out. Mrs. Delormis sweeps through with an attempt at majesty)
Hel. (Motionless with clenched hands) Wicked, wicked woman!... (Goes to window, rear, opens it, draws long breaths as if stifling, and turns back into room) Edgar! My love! I was a thing of clay. One look from your eyes has made me a being of fire and air.... (Lies down on couch and takes up her book) ... I can not read ... or sleep ... or pray. There ’s too much whirling in my heart for prayer.... (Starts) What moan is that?... (Rises, takes light from table, goes to window, leans out, casting the rays down) Nothing.... I ’m fanciful.... The moon is rising. (Goes back, putting light on table) O, Edgar! God help me to be what love must be to thee. Love that can look on miracles and be sane. What a face when he said goodnight! Like an angel’s whose immortality is his wound.... Poor Roger!... What will my father say?... (Moonlight floods the window) Welcome, soft nurse of dreams! (Extinguishes lamp) A little rest.... Ah, I know he does not sleep.... (She lies on couch in the moonlight, her eyes closed. Poe enters by window, gazes at her, and throws up his arms in gesture of prayer)
Hel. (Looking up, and springing to her feet) Edgar! My God, you must not come here!
Poe. Is this love’s welcome?