nsoiled woman!
Yes, I am a virtuous woman, Amos; and it strikes you as odd, I suppose,
my insisting upon friendship with her. But look here, both of you. I'll
tell you a secret. You never knew it, Amos my dear. I never allowed
anybody to suspect it--

AMOS. Never knew what?

GERTRUDE. The sort of married life mine was. It didn't last long, but
it was dreadful, almost intolerable.

AMOS. Gertrude!

GERTRUDE. After the first few weeks--weeks, not months!--after the
first few weeks of it, my husband treated me as cruelly--[turning to
AGNES]--just as cruelly, I do believe, as your husband treated you.
[AMOS makes a movement, showing astonishment.] Wait! Now then! There
was another man--one I loved--one I couldn't help loving! I could
have found release with him, perhaps happiness of a kind. I resisted,
came through it. They're dead--the two are dead! And here I am, a
virtuous, reputable woman; saved by the blessed mercy of Heaven! There,
you are not surprised any longer, Amos! [Pointing to AGNES.] "My
friend, Mrs Ebbsmith!" [Bursting into tears.] Oh! Oh, if my little boy
had been spared to me, he should have grown up tender to women--tender
to women! He should, he should--! [She sits upon the settee,
weeping . . . There is a short silence.]

AMOS. Mrs. Ebbsmith, when I came here tonight I was angry with Gertrude
--not altogether, I hope, for being in your company. But I was
certainly angry with her for visiting you without my knowledge. I think
I sometimes forget that she is eight-and-twenty, not eighteen. Well,
now I offer to delay our journey home for a few days, if you hold out
the faintest hope that her companionship is likely to aid you in any
way.

[AGNES, standing motionless, makes no response. AMOS crosses to her,
and as he passes GERTRUDE, he lets his hand drop over her shoulder; she
clasps it, then rises and moves to a chair, where she sits, crying
silently.]

AMOS. [By AGNES' side--in a low voice.] You heard what she said. Saved
by the mercy of Heaven.

AGNES. Yes, but she can feel that.

AMOS. You felt so once.

AGNES. Once--?

AMOS. You have, in years gone by, asked for help on your knees.

AGNES. It never came.

AMOS. Repeat your cry!

AGNES. There would be no answer.

AMOS. Repeat it!

AGNES. [Turning upon him.] If miracles could happen! If "help", as you
term it, did come! Do you know what "help" would mean to me?

AMOS. What--?

AGNES. It would take the last crumb from me!

AMO