MARY DOUL. The Lord protect us from the saints of God! (They
listen.) He's coming this road, surely.

MARTIN DOUL -- [tentatively.] -- Will we be running off, Mary
Doul?

MARY DOUL. What place would we run?

MARTIN DOUL. There's the little path going up through the
sloughs. . . . If we reached the bank above, where the elders do
be growing, no person would see a sight of us, if it was a
hundred yeomen were passing itself; but I'm afeard after the time
we were with our sight we'll not find our way to it at all.

MARY DOUL -- [standing up.] -- You'd find the way, surely.
You're a grand man the world knows at finding your way winter or
summer, if there was deep snow in it itself, or thick grass and
leaves, maybe, growing from the earth.

MARTIN DOUL -- [taking her hand.] -- Come a bit this way; it's
here it begins. (They grope about gap.) There's a tree pulled
into the gap, or a strange thing happened, since I was passing it
before.

MARY DOUL. Would we have a right to be crawling in below under
the sticks?

MARTIN DOUL. It's hard set I am to know what would be right.
And isn't it a poor thing to be blind when you can't run off
itself, and you fearing to see?