Mrs. Beeler.
Comes a step or two nearer Michaelis.
Your great hour is at hand!
He looks distractedly about. The light has faded from his face, giving place to strong nervous agitation, resembling fear. He speaks as if to himself.
Michaelis.
My hour!—My hour!—And I—and I—!
He puts his hand over his eyes, as if to shut out some vision of dread.
Mrs. Beeler.
You will not fail them? You cannot fail them, now.
Michaelis looks at Mrs. Beeler, then for a long time at Rhoda. He gathers himself together, and gazes steadfastly before him, as at some unseen presence.