Ruth’ll love
Once and for all: like me, she’s born for marriage:
Though, in my eager trustfulness, I missed it.
You’ll scorn me, as I often scorn myself:
But, kenning the worst, in my heart of hearts, I hanker ...
Jim meant so much to me once: I can’t forget,
Or keep from dwelling on the might-have-been.
Snow on the felltop, now: but underground
Fire smoulders still: and still might burst to flame.
Deceived and broken ...
Bell:
What’s this jackadandy,
That you and Phœbe, both—and kenning him!
Judith:
What’s kenning got to do with love? It makes
No difference, once you’ve given ...
Bell:
If I’ve a heart,
And it’s broken, it’s a broken stone, sunk deep
In bottomless mosshags, where no heat can touch it,
Till the whole world grills, at last, on hell’s gridiron.
Judith:
Nothing you ken of broken hearts, or hell,
To talk so lightly. I have come through hell:
But you have never loved. What’s given in love,
Is given. It’s something to have loved, at least:
And I have Ruth.
Bell: