Lydia [seating herself at the piano]. Joe, this sounds like wind blowing through willow trees. [She plays softly.] Good-by, Joe, good-by, dear. Good luck!
Harriet [pulling down the blinds on either side of the fire-place]. Lydia, have you no religion?
Lydia [controlling her agitation]. Yes—I have.
Harriet [looking from Lydia to Joe]. I can't understand. Joe, poor Joe.
Lydia. Let not your heart be troubled.... [Continuing to play.] I'm smiling, Joe. I'm laughing, Joe! Be strong....
[Harriet is stupefied. She starts toward Lydia, but stops. She lifts the Bible from the table, but replaces it hastily, as Lydia looks across at her.]
Lydia [dreamily]. In my Father's house are many mansions.
[Harriet looks to the portrait above the door, as if for help.]
Lydia. If it were not so—I would have told you—
[And Lydia looks mystically out into space and continues to play while