.

[She runs to him and offers her hand. He takes it.]

MARY. Good-bye,

ROBERT. Good-bye, miss.

[He goes out.]

[She shuts the door after him, and turns a wretched little face
towards the audience as the curtain falls.]

THE FOURTH ACT

As the curtain rises, the scene and situation remain unchanged.
After a moment, Mary comes down to the settee, left, and buries her
face in the cushions, weeping. Shortly, the handle of the
drawing-room door is turned, and from within there emerges a murmur
of voices, the Vicar's uppermost.

VICAR [within]. Very well, then, after you have finished your
letters! . . .

[The voices continue confusedly: MARY rises quickly and goes into
the garden.]

[The VICAR enters and goes to the mantel-piece weariedly: a moment
later, AUNTIE.]

BISHOP [within], I shall only be about twenty minutes.

AUNTIE [entering]. All right, don't hurry, James: you have all the
morning.

[She closes the door upon the BISHOP'S grunts, and comes, to the
middle of the room.]

VICAR. Hm! When he has finished his letters!

AUNTIE. Yes, things seem to be shaping better than we thought,
William. Perhaps we have a little misjudged him.

[He looks at her curiously.]

To think, my dear, that the rebuilding of the church is becoming
possible at last! All your hopes, all your enthusiasms, about to
be realised! Now, it only remains to gain your brother Joshua's
approval and help, and the scheme is complete!

VICAR. Supposing he--doesn't approve of the scheme?

AUNTIE. My dear, he must approve: he will see the advantages at
once. I think James made that perfectly clear! . . .

And then, look at the opportunities it creates for _you_! Not only
the church, William, the beautiful big church of your dreams, with
the great spires and flashing crosses and glorious windows; but a
much larger sphere of usefulness than you ever dared to dream!
Think of your work, William, of your great gifts--even James had to
acknowledge them, didn't he?--Think of the influence for good you
will be able to wield! Ah! And then I shall see my beloved,
_himself_ again--No more worry, no more feverish nights and days,
none of the wretched frets and fancies that have been troubling him
all this morning; but the great Scholar and Saint again, the master
of men's souls, the priest in the congregation!

VICAR. Suppose you try and forget me for a moment. Do you think
you can?

AUNTIE. William, that's u