Part 63 (2/2)

Doctor B.

Trust me, Mrs. Clemm, I shall perform no ceremony without your full consent.

Mrs. C. O, I am sure of that! But must I consent? If I refuse him he may take her away from me. And Nelson will make trouble if we wait. Edgar will let no one oppose him.

Doctor B.

_I_ should not attempt it, Mrs. Clemm.

Mrs. C. If it _is_ to be, it is better to let it be now. What makes me so helpless is the fact that Virginia is against me. She loves him.

Doctor B.

Naturally, Mrs. Clemm, naturally.

(They enter the cottage)

Zu. Wha' dat man talk so now? He better quit preachin' ef he can't hep folks no more 'n dat! Sho', ol' Zurie hussef know dat much!

(Enter from the road a swarm of girls. They wear graceful organdie gowns, and large ricestraw hats trimmed with bows and streamers. Some carry baskets, which they drop, and all troop about the yard)

Gertrude.

Where's Virginia, Mum Zurie?

Zu. (Hesitating) She wa' in de house 'bout so long ago.

Ger. I'll see!

Zu. Wait a minute! Mis' Clemm she an' de minister talkin' on impo'tant business. Maybe it's dat mortgage, I dunno!

(Grimaces)

Ger. We'll go into the garden then. (All start, right)

Zu. Law, you jes oughter see dat cherry tree hangin' full by de back gate!

Girls. O! O! O! (They rush off, disappearing behind the cottage.

Re-enter Poe and Virginia from the garden as Mrs. Clemm appears at the front door)

Vir. O, 'tis too sweet to be true! How have I won you, Edgar?

Poe. By beauty, that speaks loudest when most silent. (Mrs.

Clemm meets them) G.o.d bless you, aunt. I see 'yes' in your eyes. You could not deny me.

Mrs. C. No.

Poe. Run, Virginia, and put on your fairy's dress! I want you to look as if you were leaping out of a flower into my heart! (Virginia goes in) O this beautiful world! Just to live, my aunt! Is it not enough? Literature is disease!

The sick-robe of the soul! Who can write that does not _live_--and who that _lives_ would write! But I must do it--I must work for her. Not a wind shall blow upon my Virginia! I will find the fairy paths for her feet! Not a satyr shall leer from the wood! She will be ready soon. I shall wait for her in the orchard. I would not see her again until she is mine--all mine!

(Exit, left, singing)

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