SHAWN BRUIN.

Stay with me!

MAIRE BRUIN.

Dear, I would stay--and yet and yet--

THE CHILD.

White bird!
Come, little bird with crest of gold!

MAIRE BRUIN (_very softly_).

And yet--

THE CHILD.

Come, little bird with silver feet!

SHAWN BRUIN.

Dead, dead!

FATHER HART.

Thus do the evil spirits snatch their prey
Almost out of the very hand of God;