guest idea what that means! Then, four weeks ago--

MISTRESS FAWCETT. Ah!

RACHAEL. James Hamilton came. Ah, how unprepared I was! That I--_I_
should ever look upon another man except with loathing! Sixty and
twenty--perhaps somewhere between is the age of wisdom! And the law
holds me fast to a man who is not fit to live! All nature awoke in me
and sang the hour I met Hamilton. For the first time I loved children,
and longed for them. For the first time I saw God in man. For the first
time the future seemed vast, interminable, yet all too short. And if I
go to this man who has made me feel great and wonderful enough to bear
a demi-god, a wretch can divorce and disgrace me! Oh, these four
terrible weeks--ecstasy, despair--ecstasy, despair--and to the world as
unblinking as a marble in a museum! Do you wonder that I welcome the
hurricane, in which no man dare think of any but his puny self? For the
moment I am free, and as alive, as triumphant as that great wind
outside--as eager to devastate, to fight, to conquer, to live--to
live--to live. What do I care for civilization? If James Hamilton were
out there among the flying trees and called to me, I would go. Hark!
Listen! Is it not magnificent?

[The hurricane is nearer and louder. The approaching roar is varied by
sudden tremendous gusts, the hissing and splashing of water, the howling
of negroes and dogs, the wild pealing of bells. In the room below is
heard the noise of many trampling feet, slamming of windows, and
smothered exclamations.]

MISTRESS FAWCETT. The negroes have taken refuge in the cellar--every one
of them, beyond a doubt, two hundred and more! God grant they do not die
of fright or suffocation. It is useless to attempt to coax them up here.
These only wait until our backs are turned. Look!

[The slaves have crawled to the door on the left. They are livid. Their
tongues hang out. Rachael runs forward, seizes them by their long hair,
and administers a severe shaking.]

RACHAEL. Wake up! Wake up! We need your help. The windows must be
watched every moment.

[A terrible gust shakes the house. As Rachael relaxes her hold, the
slaves collapse again, but clutch at her skirts, mumbling and wailing.
Rachael gazes at them a moment, makes a motion as if to spurn them with
her foot, then shrugs her shoulders and opens the door.]

RACHAEL. Go. Die in your own way. May I be granted the same privilege
some day.

[The slaves stumble out.]

MISTRESS FAWCETT.