MILDRED. As I dare approach that Heaven Which has not bade a living thing despair, Which needs no code to keep its grace from stain, But bids the vilest worm that turns on it Desist and be forgiven,--I--forgive not, But bless you, Thorold, from my soul of souls! [Falls on his neck.] There! Do not think too much upon the past! The cloud that's broke was all the same a cloud While it stood up between my friend and you; You hurt him 'neath its shadow: but is that So past retrieve? I have his heart, you know; I may dispose of it: I give it you! It loves you as mine loves! Confirm me, Henry! [Dies.] TRESHAM. I wish thee joy, Beloved! I am glad In thy full gladness! GUENDOLEN [without]. Mildred! Tresham! [Entering with AUSTIN.] Thorold, I could desist no longer. Ah, she swoons! That's well. TRESHAM. Oh, better far than that! GUENDOLEN. She's dead! Let me unlock her arms! TRESHAM. She threw them thus About my neck, and blessed me, and then died: You'll let them stay now, Guendolen! AUSTIN. Leave her And look to him! What ails you, Thorold? GUENDOLEN. White As she, and whiter! Austin! quick--this side! AUSTIN. A froth is oozing through his clenched teeth; Both lips, where they're not bitten through, are black: Speak, dearest Thorold! TRESHAM. Something does weigh down My neck beside her weight: thanks: I should fall But for you, Austin, I believe!--there, there, 'Twill pass away soon!--ah,--I had forgotten: I am dying. GUENDOLEN. Thorold--Thorold--why was this? TRESHAM. I said, just as I drank the poison off, The earth would be no longer earth to me, The life out of all life was gone from me. There are blind ways provided, the fore-done Heart-weary player in this pageant-world Drops out by, letting the main masque defile By the conspicuous portal: I am through-- Just through! GUENDOLEN. Don't leave him, Austin! Death is close. TRESHAM. Already Mildred's face is peacefuller, I see you, Austin--feel you; here's my hand, Put yours in it--you, Guendolen, yours too! You're lord and lady now--you're Treshams; name And fame are yours: you hold our 'scutcheon up. Austin, no blot on it! You see how blood Must wash one blot away: the first blot came And the first blood came. To the vain world's eye All's gules again: no care to the vain world, From whence the red was drawn! AUSTIN. No blot shall come! TRESHAM. I said that: yet it did come. Should it come, Vengeance is God's, not man's. Remember me! [Dies.]