AGNES. Then. But we hadn't looked at each other clearly then, as mere
man and woman. You, the man--what are you? You've confessed--
LUCAS. I lack strength; I shall gain it.
AGNES. Never from me--never from me. For what am I? Untrue to myself,
as you are untrue to yourself; false to others, as you are false to
others; passionate, unstable, like yourself; like yourself, a coward. I
--I was to lead women! I was to show them, in your company, how laws--
laws made and laws that are natural--may be set aside or slighted; how
men and woman may live independent and noble lives without rule,
guidance or sacrament. I was to be the example--the figure set up for
others to observe and imitate. But the figure was made of wax--it fell
awry at the first hot breath that touched it! You and I! What a
partnership it has been! How base, and gross, and wicked, almost from
the very beginning! We know each other now thoroughly--how base and
wicked it would remain! No, go your way, Lucas, and let me go mine.
LUCAS. Where--where are you going?
AGNES. To Ketherick--to think. [Wringing her hands.] Ah! I have to
think, too, now, of the woman I have wronged.
LUCAS. Wronged?
AGNES. Your wife; the woman I have wronged, who came here tonight, and
--spared me. Oh, go!
LUCAS. Not like this, Agnes! not like this!
AGNES. [Appealingly.] Gertrude! [LUCAS looks round--first at GERTRUDE
then at AMOS--and, with a hard smile upon his face, turns to go.
Suddenly AGNES touches his sleeve.] Lucas, when you have learnt to pray
again, I will remember you, every day of my life.
LUCAS. [Staring at her.] Pray! . . . you! . . .
[She inclines her head twice, slowly; without another word he walks
away and goes out. AGNES sinks upon the settee; AMOS and GERTRUDE
remain, stiffly and silently, in the attitude of people who are waiting
for the departure of a disagreeable person.]
ST. OLPHERTS. [After watching LUCAS'S departure.] Now I wonder whether,
if he hurried to his wife at this moment, repentant, and begged her to
relent--I wonder whether--whether she would--whether--[looking at
AMOS and GERTRUDE, a little disconcerted]--I beg your pardon--You're
not interested?
AMOS. Frankly, we are not.
ST. OLPHERTS. No; other people's affairs are tedious. [Producing his
gloves.] Well! A week in Venice--and the weather has been delightful.
[Shaking hands with GERTRUDE, whose expression remains unchanged.] A
pleasant journey! [Going to AGNES, offering his hand.] Mrs. Ebbsmith--?
[She lifts her maimed hand.] Ah! An accident? [She nods wearily.] I'm
sorry . . . I . . .
[He turns away and goes out, bowing to AMOS as he passes.]