My hand, dear Mildred!
Mil. I—I was so young!
Beside, I loved him, Thorold—and I had
No mother; God forgot me: so, I fell.
Guen. Mildred!
Mil. Require no further! Did I dream
That I could palliate what is done? All's true.
Now, punish me! A woman takes my hand?
Let go my hand! You do not know, I see.
I thought that Thorold told you.