e you live and yet so far apart!
And must I rend this web, tear up, break down
The sweet and palpitating mystery
That makes her sacred? You--for you I mean,
Shall I speak, shall I not speak?

MILDRED. Speak!

TRESHAM. I will.
Is there a story men could--any man
Could tell of you, you would conceal from me?
I'll never think there's falsehood on that lip.
Say "There is no such story men could tell,"
And I'll believe you, though I disbelieve
The world--the world of better men than I,
And women such as I suppose you. Speak!
[After a pause.]
Not speak? Explain then! Clear it up then! Move
Some of the miserable weight away
That presses lower than the grave. Not speak?
Some of the dead weight, Mildred! Ah, if I
Could bring myself to plainly make their charge
Against you! Must I, Mildred? Silent still?
[After a pause.]
Is there a gallant that has night by night
Admittance to your chamber?
[After a pause.]
Then, his name!
Till now, I only had a thought for you:
But now,--his name!

MILDRED. Thorold, do you devise
Fit expiation for my guilt, if fit
There be! 'Tis nought to say that I'll endure
And bless you,--that my spirit yearns to purge
Her stains off in the fierce renewing fire:
But do not plunge me into other guilt!
Oh, guilt enough! I cannot tell his name.

TRESHAM. Then judge yourself! How should I act? Pronounce!

MILDRED. Oh, Thorold, you must never tempt me thus!
To die here in this chamber by that sword
Would seem like punishment: so should I glide,
Like an arch-cheat, into extremest bliss!
'Twere easily arranged for me: but you--
What would become of you?

TRESHAM. And what will now
Become of me? I'll hide your shame and mine
From every eye; the dead must heave their hearts
Under the marble of our chapel-floor;
They cannot rise and blast you. You may wed
Your paramour above our mother's tomb;
Our mother cannot move from 'neath your foot.
We too will somehow wear this one day out:
But with to-morrow hastens here--the Earl!
The youth without suspicion. Face can come
From Heaven and heart from... whence p