Is ended.

MILDRED. What begins now?

MERTOUN. Happiness
Such as the world contains not.

MILDRED. That is it.
Our happiness would, as you say, exceed
The whole world's best of blisses: we--do we
Deserve that? Utter to your soul, what mine
Long since, Beloved, has grown used to hear,
Like a death-knell, so much regarded once,
And so familiar now; this will not be!

MERTOUN. Oh, Mildred, have I met your brother's face?
Compelled myself--if not to speak untruth,
Yet to disguise, to shun, to put aside
The truth, as--what had e'er prevailed on me
Save you to venture? Have I gained at last
Your brother, the one scarer of your dreams,
And waking thoughts' sole apprehension too?
Does a new life, like a young sunrise, break
On the strange unrest of our night, confused
With rain and stormy flaw--and will you see
No dripping blossoms, no fire-tinted drops
On each live spray, no vapour steaming up,
And no expressless glory in the East?
When I am by you, to be ever by you,
When I have won you and may worship you,