Vir. O, Edgar!
Poe. Ha! You would rather ask them in to have something dry and something hot! But I must have the air! (Throws door open. Lightning flashes on falling rain. Virginia shrinks from the wind) Hear those winds! Gathering lost souls to the bosom of Night! Feel those drops! Every one of them the tear of a fallen god! O, is it nothing but rain? Ha! ha! ha! (Virginia coughs. Poe closes the door hastily. She coughs again)
Poe. Don’t, Virginia!
Vir. Yes, dear.
Poe. My angel! (Embraces her. She coughs) O, it is these wet clothes! (Throws off coat, picks up dressing gown from the door and puts it on hurriedly)
Vir. (Eagerly) Your slippers too, dear!
Poe. Yes, yes, my slippers! (Puts them on. Sits in big chair, taking her on his knee, and embracing her tenderly) What made you cough, Virginia?
Vir. O, ’t was nothing, dear. ’T is all right now. Everything is all right.
Poe. Is it, little wisdom? O, ye gods!
Vir. (Concealing anxiety) Darling?