Ger. I ’ll see!
Zu. Wait a minute! Mis’ Clemm she an’ de minister talkin’ on impo’tant business. Maybe it ’s dat mortgage, I dunno! (Grimaces)
Ger. We ’ll go into the garden then. (All start, right)
Zu. Law, you jes oughter see dat cherry tree hangin’ full by de back gate!
Girls. O! O! O! (They rush off, disappearing behind the cottage. Re-enter Poe and Virginia from the garden as Mrs. Clemm appears at the front door)
Vir. O, ’t is too sweet to be true! How have I won you, Edgar?
Poe. By beauty, that speaks loudest when most silent. (Mrs. Clemm meets them) God bless you, aunt. I see ‘yes’ in your eyes. You could not deny me.
Mrs. C. No.
Poe. Run, Virginia, and put on your fairy’s dress! I want you to look as if you were leaping out of a flower into my heart! (Virginia goes in) O this beautiful world! Just to live, my aunt! Is it not enough? Literature is disease! The sick-robe of the soul! Who can write that does not live—and who that lives would write! But I must do it—I must work for her. Not a wind shall blow upon my Virginia! I will find the fairy paths for her feet! Not a satyr shall leer from the wood! She will be ready soon. I shall wait for her in the orchard. I would not see her again until she is mine—all mine!
(Exit, left, singing)