Mary. I have been too happy to speak.
Leslie. I am his friend. Precious as you are, he will trust you to me. He has but to know how I love you, Mary, and how your life is all in your love of me, to give us his blessing with a full heart.
Mary. I am sure of him. It is that which makes my happiness complete. Even to our marriage I should find it hard to say “Yes” when he said “No.”
Leslie. Your father is trying to speak. I’ll wager he echoes you.
Mary (to Old Brodie). My poor dearie! Do you want to say anything to me? No? Is it to Mr. Leslie, then?
Leslie. I am listening, Mr. Brodie.
Mary. What is it, daddie?
Old Brodie. My son—the Deacon—Deacon Brodie—the first at school.
Leslie. I know it, Mr. Brodie. Was I not the last in the same class? (To Mary.) But he seems to have forgotten us.
Mary. O, yes! his mind is wellnigh gone. He will sit for hours as you see him, and never speak nor stir but at the touch of Will’s hand or the sound of Will’s name.