(_Jane places tea-things, and exit._)

Mrs. Denham.

What have I to do? Ah, yes. (_Sits at the table and writes
hurriedly. Re-enter Jane with a cup._) Jane, take this note to Mrs.
Tremaine's at once. You know the house?

Jane.

Yes, m'm.

Mrs. Denham.

(_giving note_) Take it at once.

Jane.

Yes, m'm. Was I to wait for an answer, please?

Mrs. Denham.

No, Jane; no answer. (_Exit Jane._) She will be here directly. She
_must_ come--and I? Yes--yes. There is no other way of quitting the
wreck for _me_. The key? (_Searches her pockets._) Yes! (_She goes
to the cupboard, opens it, and takes out a small bottle, places it
on the tea-table, and looks at it; then takes out the stopper, and
smells the poison._) It smells like some terrible flower. (_Re-stops
and replaces the bottle._) And now to arrange--to arrange it all
decently. (_Pushes the couch behind the screen, returns to the
table, and pours out a cup of tea._) My throat is parched. (_Drinks
eagerly._) Poor Arthur! He will be sorry--perhaps he will understand
a little now. (_She pours the contents of the bottle into the cup._)
The Black Cat had a friend; I am not so fortunate. It is a survival
of the fittest, I suppose. The world was made for the sleek and
treacherous. (_She replaces the bottle in the cupboard, then
returns, and lays the keys on the table._) Yes, my little Undine,
mother is tired too--so tired! Oh, sleep, sleep! If it were but
eternal sleep--if I could be _sure_ I should never wake again! No
more life. And yet I want to live. Oh, my God, I want to live!
(_Paces to and fro, mechanically putting things in order; sees
Undine's handkerchief on the ground, and picks it up._) Undine's
little handkerchief, still wet with her tears--the last human thing
on the brink of the abyss. Poor little rag; it will give me courage
to face the darkness. (_Kisses it, and thrusts it into her bosom,
then goes back to the table._) Perhaps I _do_ think too much of
things--even of death. And now! (_Takes up the cup and shudders._)
Who said "Poor Constance"? (_Puts it down again, and presses her
hands to her ears._) There are voices in my brain--voices that burn
like the flames of hell. Sleep, sleep--we must cheat the madness.
(_Takes the cup, and passes_ R, _as if to go behind screen._) How
awfully things look at you when you're going to die! I did not know
this. There's Demeter with Undine's wreath of daisies withered on
her head. My life has withered with