RACHAEL. Forgive you! I have been bred in philosophy, and I have always loved you perfectly.
MISTRESS FAWCETT. Ah! I did not know. Until to-night you have been so reticent. And silent people think--think--
RACHAEL. I have thought, but never to blame you. And what is past is past. I waste no time on what cannot be undone. The soul must have its education, and part of that is to be torn up by the roots, trampled, beaten, crucified. Let me hope that, having had that course at the beginning of my life, I have had it once for all.
MISTRESS FAWCETT. There are worse things than a loveless marriage with a brute. One is to love a man you cannot marry, and be cast aside by him, while your heart is still alive with the love he has sloughed off like an old skin that has begun to chafe. And then, without friends--with children, perhaps, the world snatching at its skirts as it passes you--the uncommon and terrible disgrace of divorce. Rachael!--will you not promise me--
RACHAEL. I promise you this--in normal mood, I will think of you first. But, do I ever meet Hamilton when I feel as I do to-night, I should not think--not think, I say--not think nor care! Am I like those cattle in the cellar? Did not Nature fashion me to love and hate, to create and suffer--to feel as she does to-night?
MISTRESS FAWCETT (with a long sigh). Thank heaven, Hamilton is not here! Ah!
[The hurricane bursts with renewed fury. The concussions are like the impact of artillery. Hail rattles on the roof. Trees and roofs crash against one another in mid-air. Suddenly the house springs and rocks. Simultaneously there is a long horrid shriek from the negroes in the cellar.]
RACHAEL. Has Nevis been torn from her foundations?
MISTRESS FAWCETT. It was an earthquake. A hurricane tugs at the very roots of the earth. Pray heaven that the fires in Nevis are out. But we have no time to think on imaginary horrors. Look to the windows. (As Rachael examines the windows, Mistress Fawcett thrusts her head towards the outer door, as if listening in an agony of apprehension. She raises herself from the chair, her eyes expanded, but keeps her face turned from Rachael, and says, steadily): I think I hear the rattle of a shutter in the dining-room. Run and see. And examine all the other windows before you return. Remember that if the wind gets in, the roof will go. (Rachael runs out of the room. Immediately after there is a loud knocking at the front door, which is on the side of the house at present sheltered from the direct attack of the storm. Mistress Fawcett hobbles forward and secures more firmly the iron bar, making it impossible for an outsider to force his way in.)