Mrs. C. Yes, yes, I do, Virginia. I know he suffers, but you—
Vir. Don’t speak of me! You shame me! Were I to lie down on those coals my torture would be less than his. Remember that, mother. When you doubt, as you surely will, remember that I told you, and I know. His mind is a living thing, throbbing through his body and leaving him no shield of flesh. O, mamma, help him! Promise me! You will never forsake him?
Mrs. C. Never, my love.
Vir. I would not have told you, but my strength is gone, and somebody must know,—somebody who is strong. (A gust shakes the window) O, my darling! Out in that blackness alone! And if I were there I could say nothing. That is the pity of it, mamma. I have no words, and thought without tongue is nothing so long as we are mortal and wear these bodies. Some day it may be enough just to be a soul, but not now—not now!
Mrs. C. O, my daughter!
Vir. Promise me, mamma, that if I die you will find Helen. She could help him!
Mrs. C. (Rising) Virginia, if you say another word like that I shall think you are mad—or I am! (Bursts into weeping)
Vir. Darling, darling mother! Now I have given you all my burdens you will grow weak under them, and I want strength, strength by my side!
Mrs. C. (Calm) You must go to bed, dear. I will wait for Edgar.
Vir. No, no!