MANSON. Which?

VICAR. I meant--the Bishop of Benares; but . . .

AUNTIE [hand on his arm, apprehensively]. William . . .

MANSON. It wants ten minutes of the time you said you expected him. [Goes to door: turns.] Only ten minutes.

[He goes out, closing the door softly.]

VICAR. Ten minutes! . . .

AUNTIE. We shall never be able to do it, William! How can we possibly undo the work of all these years in ten minutes? It wants a miracle.

VICAR. We must make the attempt, somehow.

AUNTIE. Yes--yes: how? Oh, I have been blind--blind! [She walks across the room in agitation.] Where has he gone, I wonder? We don't even know that--where he is!

VICAR [making a movement]. Perhaps Manson . . .

AUNTIE. No, no, no: it must be ourselves . . .

Ten minutest--And no a.s.sistance on _his_ side: we can't expect it, after our treatment of him. He will hate me most of all: there's the chief difficulty! . . .

VICAR. You would say me, if you had seen his face and heard his voice this morning!

AUNTIE. G.o.d help us. G.o.d pity us!

VICAR. Amen . . .

Then, there's the child, too! That difficulty must be faced.

AUNTIE. Yes--no escape! We shall have to pay the whole debt, William: I see that.

VICAR. Who knows! Perhaps the child will have to pay most, when all is done.

AUNTIE. The innocent for the guilty--yes . . . Oh, William, William, can you ever forgive me?

VICAR. There is much to forgive, both sides, Martha. My sin has been greater than yours. You have only loved unworthily in blindness: I have seen clearly and been a coward.

[Enter MARY from the garden.]

Mary! . . .

MARY. Let me speak, uncle. I have been thinking, out there in the garden--thinking very hard: I've been trying to put things together again and make them straight; but it's still very difficult. Only there's one thing--I'm sorry I was unkind just now: I didn't mean it: you are everything I have--everything I have ever had; and as for what uncle said--about himself, I mean--I can't believe it.

No, I'm sure there's a mistake somewhere; and mistakes can always be put right, if we only help one another and mean it. Shall we try, uncle? Shall we, auntie?

AUNTIE. If it's not too late! . . .

MARY. It can't be too late, auntie dear, if we all wish very hard.

I was a coward to give up wishing. That was _my_ sin, too!

AUNTIE. G.o.d knows, I wish, Mary! . . .

VICAR. And I! . . .

MARY. And, indeed, I do! . . .

Now, I've been thinking: I've been trying to look the worst in the face. Supposing my father is the wicked man you say--the very, very wickedest man that ever lived, don't you think if we tried to love him very much it might make a difference?

VICAR. What made you think of that, Mary? . . .

MARY [simply]. It's what you taught me, uncle, in your sermons.

VICAR. _I_ taught you? . . .

MARY. Yes: and, besides, there's another reason. . . I've been thinking of the poor man I met this morning.

AUNTIE. ) Yes . . .

VICAR. ) What of him? . . .

MARY. _He_ said he was a wicked man, and at first he looked so dreadfully wicked, I believed him; but when I began to look at him closely, and heard him talk about his little girl, everything seemed different! I could no more believe him, than I can believe you, uncle, when you say such awful things about yourself! I believe he was a much better man than he ever dreamed! And so I think we might find my father just the same, if he was properly loved and looked after!

VICAR [with determination]. Then listen to me, Mary: I have something to tell you: that very man you spoke to . . .

[ROGERS enters, his face betraying signs of his morning's affliction.]

ROGERS. Beg your pardon, sir; but . . .

VICAR. Yes, Rogers: what is it?

ROGERS. Mr. Manson sent me, sir; it ain't my fault! . . .

VICAR. Do explain yourself, Rogers!

ROGERS. Well, sir, it's a bit orkard: it's . . . I really don't know what you'll say, sir, I don't really . . .

VICAR [impatiently]. Come, come, come, what is it?

ROGERS. _It's a man, sir_!

VICAR. Well, there's nothing very extraordinary in that. Wants to see me, eh?

ROGERS. Yes, sir; and what's more, Mr. Manson told me to _bring 'im in_!

VICAR. Well, why don't you?

ROGERS. 'E's mucked up to the eyes, sir! Bin down the drains!

_It's the same chap as come an' made so free 'ere this mornin'_!