[_Murmuring to herself, so as scarcely to break his speech._ ADENE. I gnashed my teeth inwardly and raged against you. [VERA _draws back from him, shrinking_.] You can't forgive me? VERA. I have nothing to forgive. ADENE. You see what must come! I shall try to be just to your father--to spare him; but what good will it be? I shall wound you past all healing! [_Breaking off._] Oh, why could not this have come to some one who did not love you? Or at least to some strong man, who could bear it and go his ways? I, Heaven help me, am a broken, crippled man; I could never ask for your love as an equal, never hope to make you my wife. [_Passionately._] But some little corner of your love I must have---- VERA. [_Kneeling down by his chair, bending slightly over him._] Oh, dearest, dearest, you are ill and talking wildly! The wound in me is past healing; but it is _he_, not you, that struck it. How could _I_ ask you to spare him? I am bound up as one with him. And I claim now that we shall have our punishment! Dearest, what you thought of me in your anger was the truth! I did plot to screen him and keep you back. I tried that day to strike you with despair--to break down your spirit, to---- ADENE. But you didn't know what he had done! You can't have known. VERA. No, I didn't know that, and I didn't know your courage. It was high above our reach, and we could not break it.--_You_ not a strong man! _You_ to ask for a corner of my love! It is yours all, long ago. It is thrown at your feet for you to gather as you will! [_Throws herself down before him._] The love of one who wronged you, who plotted against you, who was sent here now to---- [_Breaking off with a paroxysm of self-abasement._] Oh, _he_, _he_, who knew me, could think I would do that! ADENE. Sent? Did he send you to me? To do what? [_Preparing to rise._ VERA. I can't tell you. I have not done it. I have saved you from him. [ADENE _has risen, and stands sternly thinking_. VERA _is huddled up at his feet, her face hidden in her hands. After a pause, he looks down at her, and changes from stern anger to tenderness._ ADENE. My poor, poor love, let us forget him! [_Sitting and raising her._] Just for a little, forget him altogether. VERA. [_Startled--clutching the letter in her bosom and raising her head._] You have nearly made me forget everything! [_Rising, smiling through her tears._] Forget my first business! _I_ can't afford to break down and let myself be comforted, like another woman! ADENE. Why not? [_Tries to detain her._ VOICE OF RHEINHARDT INSIDE THE HOUSE. Not back yet? It is quite dark. Bring the lamps. And set the punkah going again. VERA. No, no; you are my patient. You mustn't comfort me. You are my sick child. _Enter_ RHEINHARDT. RHEINHARDT.