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No--she holds you in some deeper way than this. Denham. It is true--she does. Mrs. Tremaine. (_rising_) Is it because you love _her_ that you abandon _me_? If so, say so; and I shall understand that I am a toy goddess, nothing more. Denham. She loves me. Mrs. Tremaine. Ah! a woman's love can blight as terribly as a man's--almost. Well, I like you none the worse for this curious spice of loyalty. It is so rare in a man. Denham. No--not so rare. Don't let us talk any more about it now. I think you begin to understand. But where can she be? I seem to feel her presence here. (_He looks behind the screen, then thrusts it aside, showing Mrs. Denham lying dead on the couch._) Blanche! Blanche! Look here! Is she--? Mrs. Tremaine. She has fainted--let me--! Denham. (_throws himself down beside the couch and puts his finger on her wrist_) Oh my God! Dead! Dead! Mrs. Tremaine. No, no, no! It is too terrible! Let us try if----(_Attempts to open dress, then recoils in horror._) And I had begun to hate her--yes, to _hate_ her. My poor good Constance! Denham. But how--? (_Rising._) _Is_ she dead, Blanche? Mrs. Tremaine. (_mastering her agitation_) Yes, dear, dead! She has taken poison. See here! (_Picks up the cup._) What a horrible death! Her face is awful! Denham. Oh, Constance, why did I leave you? I had a vague fear of something--but not this! (_Throws himself down again, and stoops to kiss her._) Ha! Prussic acid! No help! No hope! Yet she is warm. (_He starts up._) Could we--? But death is a matter of seconds with that infernal stuff. Blanche, Blanche, I have killed her! Mrs. Tremaine. I claim my share in the guilt. Denham. No, no. Leave me! Let the dead bury their dead! Mrs. Tremaine. If you wish me to leave you, dear, I will go. Denham. Yes--for God's sake, go! (_She moves towards the door._) But, Blanche, don't leave the house. I can't bear this alone. Mrs. Tremaine. (_returns to him_) You know, dear, I am yours always. Oh, don't hate me! I dare to say it in this presence. (_She kisses his hand. He shrinks from her._) Now I can go. (_She goes to the door and looks back as Denham kneels and clasps the body in his arms._) Will he hate me now? (_Exit Mrs. Tremaine._) Denham. Constance! I meant to have kept you from all the thorns of life! It was fate! It was fate! CURTAIN. * * * * * Printed by
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