ought to hate and de
Ell, I'm going with you, then, to take care of you. We'll send Undine
somewhere, and go abroad for a while. Mrs. Denham. Oh yes. You can be kind
enough, if that were all. Denham. Will you never make peace? Mrs. Denham. The
only peace I _can_ make. Denham. What do you mean? Mrs. Denham. I shall trouble
you no longer. Denham. My dear girl, don't talk like that. It is ghastly
Constance, I must go to Fitzgerald with this wretched drawing. I have to give
some directions about the reproduction. I sha'n't be long. Promise me that you
won't do anything foolish--that I shall find you here when I come back. Mrs.
Denham. Yes--you shall find me here. Denham. That's right. (_Goes to settee,
and takes up shawl._) And now lie down here, and let me cover you with this
shawl. Mrs. Denham. Very well. (_She lies down._) Arthur! Denham. Yes, dear.
Mrs. Denham. Kiss me once before you go. Denham. Oh, if I may! (_Kisses her._)
My poor Constance! I would give my heart's blood to comfort you. And meanwhile
I'll send you a better thing--tea. Mrs. Denham. Thank you, dear. You have
always tried to be good to me. You could not help being cruel, I suppose.
Denham. I want to be good to you always. Well, good-bye, and God bless you!
(_Kisses her._) Mrs. Denham. God bless you! (_Exit Denham._) Mrs. Denham.
(_listens for a while, then starts up_) He had tears in his eyes when he kissed
me. Poor Arthur! he thinks we are going to patch it up, I suppose. I am to live
on pity--a man's pity, more akin to contempt than to love. Why _should_ he love
me? I was not born to be loved
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