wants ten minutes of the time you said you expected
him. [Goes to door: turns.] Only ten minutes.

[He goes out, closing the door softly.]

VICAR. Ten minutes! . . .

AUNTIE. We shall never be able to do it, William! How can we
possibly undo the work of all these years in ten minutes? It wants
a miracle.

VICAR. We must make the attempt, somehow.

AUNTIE. Yes--yes: how? Oh, I have been blind--blind! [She walks
across the room in agitation.] Where has he gone, I wonder? We
don't even know that--where he is!

VICAR [making a movement]. Perhaps Manson . . .

AUNTIE. No, no, no: it must be ourselves . . .

Ten minutest--And no assistance on _his_ side: we can't expect it,
after our treatment of him. He will hate me most of all: there's
the chief difficulty! . . .

VICAR. You would say me, if you had seen his face and heard his
voice this morning!

AUNTIE. God help us. God pity us!

VICAR. Amen . . .

Then, there's the child, too! That difficulty must be faced.

AUNTIE. Yes--no escape! We shall have to pay the whole debt,
William: I see that.

VICAR. Who knows! Perhaps the child will have to pay most, when
all is done.

AUNTIE. The innocent for the guilty--yes . . . Oh, William,
William, can you ever forgive me?

VICAR. There is much to forgive, both sides, Martha. My sin has
been greater than yours. You have only loved unworthily in
blindness: I have seen clearly and been a coward.

[Enter MARY from the garden.]

Mary! . . .

MARY. Let me speak, uncle. I have been thinking, out there in the
garden--thinking very hard: I've been trying to put things together
again and make them straight; but it's still very difficult. Only
there's one thing--I'm sorry I was unkind just now: I didn't mean
it: you are everything I have--everything I have ever had; and as
for what uncle said--about himself, I mean--I can't believe it.
No, I'm sure there's a mistake somewhere; and mistakes can always
be put right, if we only help one another and mean it. Shall we
try, uncle? Shall we, auntie?

AUNTIE. If it's not too late! . . .

MARY. It can't be too late, auntie dear, if we all wish very hard.
I was a coward to give up wishing. That was _my_ sin, too!

AUNTIE. God knows, I wish, Mary! . . .

VICAR. And I! . . .

MARY. And, indeed, I do! . . .

Now, I've been thinking: I've been trying to look the worst in the
face. Supposing my father is the wicked man you say--the very,