Oh, I acquit you completely! We drifted--that was all. Jest sometimes turns to earnest. Well, go--go with those tears in your eyes. There is nothing worth crying about--more than is becoming.

Mrs. Tremaine.

Don't say unkind things to me. I can't bear them, though I suppose I deserve them. I liked you, and your admiration flattered my vanity; and I suppose I may have made you think I cared more for you than--I did.

Denham.

Well, you don't love me. What does it matter? _I_ love _you_; that is the important thing to me. I thank you for that eternal possession. Let it be a dream, austere and pure. Passion has its own ascetic cell, where it can fast and scourge itself. I ask you for nothing, Blanche. I am yours wholly. Do what you like with me.

Mrs. Tremaine.

Go back to your wife.

Denham.

Yes--my poor Constance! Well, Blanche, at least you and I can't utterly spoil each other's lives. We can't _marry_ each other.

Mrs. Tremaine.

Don't say any more. Let us forget all this.

Denham.

Forget? No. But we must renounce. You, too, will wear the sackcloth.

Mrs. Tremaine.

(_petulantly_) Why should _I_ wear sackcloth?

Denham.

My dear Blanche, you are not such a fine coquette as you imagine.

(_Going close up to her._) Do you think I can't read those beautiful eyes of yours? You love me! Your love fills the air like the fragrance of a flower. (_He clasps her in his arms._)

Mrs. Tremaine.

(_impatiently_) Suppose I did. _Apres?_

Denham.

You do love me, Blanche? (_Kisses her._)

Mrs. Tremaine.

(_with inward rage_) Yes, I love you. (_Suddenly embracing him._) I love you! What does it matter?

Denham.

Oh, it is the eternal tragedy! We must renounce.

(_Half releasing her._)

Mrs. Tremaine.

Why must we renounce? Now that you have gone so far, why turn back?

Denham.

(_releasing her_) It is the least of evils. How should I hide you from the world's vile slanders? Let us keep our dream unsullied.

(_Crosses_ L.)

Mrs. Tremaine.

I have been through the fire already, and could face it again--for a man I loved, and who loved me.

Denham.

But it would scorch you worse than before. Then, Constance!

Mrs. Tremaine.

(_with scorn_) Ay, Constance! You ought to have thought of her before. (_Passionately._) Why have you spoken to me? Why have you compelled _me_ to speak, if you are not bold enough to break the bonds that are strangling you?

Denham.

Because I must. Don't tempt me, Blanche. We shall sometimes meet, look in each other's eyes, and keep our secret. It is best so. I love you so much that I would save you from yourself.

Mrs. Tremaine.

I don't understand such love. (_Turns away_ R.)

Denham.

Women never do. They prefer being treated like dogs. Is it nothing that we have met heart to heart for one sweet moment, that you have rested a moment in my arms? To me it is a glimpse of the unattainable heaven of love. (_Going up to her._) Kiss me once, Blanche, and farewell!

Mrs. Tremaine.

It must be for ever, then.

(_They kiss, and remain clasped in each other's arms._)

(_Enter Mrs. Denham suddenly._)

Mrs. Denham.

Arthur! Oh, I see, I am in the way! (_She is about to retire._)

Denham.