Fires of St. John

Chapter 41

George.

_Marie!!_

Marie.

[_Rising_.] You are right. It was low in me. But he who originates where I do, is low--so low----

George.

Don"t think of it, Marie! Think of this house and all the love it has given you!

Marie.

How quiet everything is--not a sound to be heard--as silent as the grave----

George.

Then be content, for they have buried us together!

Marie.

If they only had----!

George.

And see the pale moon--how it throws its silvery rays over the garden--and yonder is your manzanillo-tree.

Marie.

Yes, yes, do you see it?

George.

And its white, trembling leaves; see, see, each one seems alive--though not a breath of air is stirring. Come, let us go to it.

Marie.

[_Cowering_.] No, no, I think it is time--we must----

George.

Sh!--Sh!----

Marie.

What is it?

George.

There--something moved. It must be Gertrude. [_Goes to door C. and calls_.] "Gertrude!!!"

[_Short pause_.]

Marie.

You must have been mistaken!

George.

No, no; I saw a shadow. "Gertrude!" Remain here, I"ll go see! [_Exit into garden_.]

Marie.

Oh, I"m so afraid, George--so afraid----!

[_Pause_.]

[George _returns, pale and agitated, trying to control himself_.]

Marie.

Who was it? Who was it?

George.

Oh, no one--no one----

Marie.

Yes, there was--I can see it in your face!! Was it Gertrude?

George.

No.

Marie.

Then it was papa?

George.

No, no.

Marie.

George, you are as pale as death; What has happened? Tell me!

George.

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