Brodie. My name? Mine? O Mary, if he had known! He knows now. He knows; he sees us now . . . sees me! Ay, and sees you, left how lonely!
Mary. Not so, dear; not while you live. Wherever you are, I shall not be alone, so you live.
Brodie. While I live? I? The old house is ruined, and the old master dead, and I! . . . O Mary, try and believe I did not mean that it should come to this; try and believe that I was only weak at first. At first? And now! The good old man dead, the kind sister ruined, the innocent boy fallen, fallen . . . ! You will be quite alone; all your old friends, all the old faces, gone into darkness. The night (with a gesture) . . . it waits for me. You will be quite alone.
Mary. The night!
Brodie. Mary, you must hear. How am I to tell her, and the old man just dead! Mary, I was the boy you knew; I loved pleasure, I was weak; I have fallen . . . low . . . lower than you think. A beginning is so small a thing! I never dreamed it would come to this . . . this hideous last night.
Mary. Willie, you must tell me, dear. I must have the truth . . . the kind truth . . . at once . . . in pity.
Brodie. Crime. I have fallen. Crime.
Mary. Crime?
Brodie. Don’t shrink from me. Miserable dog that I am, selfish hound that has dragged you to this misery . . . you and all that loved him . . . think only of my torments, think only of my penitence, don’t shrink from me.
Mary. I do not care to hear, I do not wish, I do not mind; you are my brother. What do I care? How can I help you?