I love you.

THE CHILD.

But you love Him above.

BRIDGET BRUIN.

She is blaspheming.

THE CHILD (_to_ MAIRE).

And do you likewise love me?

MAIRE BRUIN.

I don't know.

THE CHILD.

You love that great tall fellow over there:
Yet I could make you ride upon the winds,
Run on the top of the dishevelled tide,
And dance upon the mountains like a flame!

MAIRE BRUIN.

Queen of the Angels and kind Saints defend us!
Some dreadful fate has fallen: before she came