Vir. You have been out! O, save yourself for the great things ... now I am going out of your way. Don’t let my death be as vain as my life. Let that count for something, Edgar. O, promise me you will live for your genius’ sake, you will be true to your heavenly gift! Kneel by me and promise!
Poe. I ... promise.
Vir. Dear husband ... I.... (faints)
Mrs. C. O, she is gone!
Poe. No! She faints! My beautiful idol! O, some wine! Heaven and earth for some wine!
Mrs. C. She looks at us! My daughter!
Poe. O, do not try to speak! Let your beautiful eyes do all the talking!
Mrs. C. She looks toward the fire. She would have you go, Edgar, and try to keep warm. Come, dear. (Poe kisses Virginia gently, and goes to fireside, looking back adoringly) Do not look at her, and she will sleep again.
Poe. Ah, God! It will take more than sleep to help her. And I can give her nothing—nothing!
Mrs. C. Don’t, Edgar! Remember your terrible illness—how you worked for her when fever was burning your brain—until your pen fell from your hand.