[Assists her to sofa.
Emily. I'd skill enough to find a vital spot. Do not withdraw it yet—my time is short, and I have much to say before I die. (Faintly.) Be gentle with my rabbits when I'm gone; give my canary chickweed now and then.... I think there is no more—ah, one last word—(warmly)—warn them they must not cut our wedding-cake, and then the pastrycook may take it back!
Peter (deeply moved). Would you had shown this thoughtfulness before!
[Kneels by the sofa.
Emily. 'Tis now too late, and clearly do I see that I was never worthy of you, Peter.
Peter (gently). 'Tis not for me to contradict you now. You did your best to be so, Emily!
Emily. A blessing on you for those generous words! Now tell me, Peter, how is your poor foot?
Peter. The agony decidedly abates, and I can bear a boot again.
Emily. Then I die happy!... Kiss me, Peter ... ah!
[Dies.