MILDRED. That is it. Our happiness would, as you say, exceed The whole world's best of blisses: we--do we Deserve that? Utter to your soul, what mine Long since, Beloved, has grown used to hear, Like a death-knell, so much regarded once, And so familiar now; this will not be!

MERTOUN. Oh, Mildred, have I met your brother's face? Compelled myself--if not to speak untruth, Yet to disguise, to shun, to put aside The truth, as--what had e'er prevailed on me Save you to venture? Have I gained at last Your brother, the one scarer of your dreams, And waking thoughts' sole apprehension too? Does a new life, like a young sunrise, break On the strange unrest of our night, confused With rain and stormy flaw--and will you see No dripping blossoms, no fire-tinted drops On each live spray, no vapour steaming up, And no expressless glory in the East? When I am by you, to be ever by you, When I have won you and may worship you, Oh, Mildred, can you say "this will not be"?

MILDRED. Sin has surprised us, so will punishment.

MERTOUN. No--me alone, who sinned alone!

MILDRED. The night You likened our past life to--was it storm Throughout to you then, Henry?

MERTOUN. Of your life I spoke--what am I, what my life, to waste A thought about when you are by me?--you It was, I said my folly called the storm And pulled the night upon. 'Twas day with me-- Perpetual dawn with me.

MILDRED. Come what, come will, You have been happy: take my hand!

MERTOUN [after a pause]. How good Your brother is! I figured him a cold-- Shall I say, haughty man?