at morn or evensong, I have knelt in God's house, I have never
repented of my sin. How could I repent of my sin when you, my
love, were its fruit! Even now that you are bitter to me I cannot
repent. I do not. You are more to me than innocence. I would
rather be your mother - oh! much rather! - than have been always
pure . . . Oh, don't you see? don't you understand? It is my
dishonour that has made you so dear to me. It is my disgrace that
has bound you so closely to me. It is the price I paid for you -
the price of soul and body - that makes me love you as I do. Oh,
don't ask me to do this horrible thing. Child of my shame, be
still the child of my shame!

GERALD. Mother, I didn't know you loved me so much as that. And I
will be a better son to you than I have been. And you and I must
never leave each other . . . but, mother . . . I can't help it . .
. you must become my father's wife. You must marry him. It is
your duty.

HESTER. [Running forwards and embracing MRS. ARBUTHNOT.] No, no;
you shall not. That would be real dishonour, the first you have
ever known. That would be real disgrace: the first to touch you.
Leave him and come with me. There are other countries than England
. . . Oh! other countries over sea, better, wiser, and less unjust
lands. The world is very wide and very big.

MRS. ARBUTHNOT. No, not for me. For me the world is shrivelled to
a palm's breadth, and where I walk there are thorns.

HESTER. It shall not be so. We shall somewhere find green valleys
and fresh waters, and if we weep, well, we shall weep together.