was--the Saint.

AUNTIE. What I have done, William, has been done for love of
you--you only--you only in the world!

VICAR. Yes: that's what I _mean_!

[The thought troubles her for a moment; then she paces up and down
in agitated rebellion.]

AUNTIE. No! I can't believe it! I can't think that love is as
wrong as you say!

VICAR. Love is a spirit of many shapes and shadows: a spirit of
fire and darkness--a minister of heaven and hell: Sometimes I think
the very damned know love--in a way. It can inform men's souls
with the gladness of high archangels, or possess them with the
despair of devils!

[She suddenly stands still, struck by the echo in his last phrase.]

Yes?

AUNTIE. I was wondering . . .

Wondering what Manson meant just now.

VICAR. When?

AUNTIE. When he spoke about your brother Robert.