I'll be that time, and it won't be hell to me, I'm thinking, but
the like of heaven itself; and it's fine care I'll be taking the
Lord Almighty doesn't know. [He turns to grope out.]

CURTAIN



ACT III

[The same Scene as in first Act, but gap in centre has been
filled with briars, or branches of some sort. Mary Doul, blind
again, gropes her way in on left, and sits as before. She has a
few rushes with her. It is an early spring day.

MARY DOUL -- [mournfully.] -- Ah, God help me . . . God help me;
the blackness wasn't so black at all the other time as it is this
time, and it's destroyed I'll be now, and hard set to get my
living working alone, when it's few are passing and the winds are
cold. (She begins shredding rushes.) I'm thinking short days
will be long days to me from this time, and I sitting here, not
seeing a blink, or hearing a word, and no thought in my mind but
long prayers that Martin Doul'll get his reward in a short while
for the villainy of his heart. It's great jokes the people'll be
making now, I'm thinking, and they pass me by, pointing their
fingers maybe, and asking what place is himself, the way it's no
quiet or decency I'll have from this day till I'm an old woman
with long white hair and it twisting from my brow. (She fumbles
with her hair, and then seems to hear something. Listens for a
moment.) There's a queer, slouching step coming on the road. . .