_Mar._ He could not carry a ghost. Besides, this morning I watched him: he took thither meat and drink, And locked the door, and strictly bade the servants They should not enter. _Con._ Hast thou questioned him? _Mar._ I have not so much as let him speak with me. He might forbid me: and, O my curiosity, I must know more. _Con._ What dost thou think to learn? 450 _Mar._ I have neither guess nor hope; I lay awake An hour, and thought of fifty things, not one Of any likelihood. In all romance No lady in distress ere came at midnight To the house of the chief justice. I could wish This beauteous maiden were a young princess Fled o’er the seas disguised. _Con._ Then thou couldst see What she was like. _Mar._ Why, no,—how could I see? I only saw that she was dark. _Con._ Thou saidst That she was beautiful. _Mar._ Of course she is young 460 And beautiful. Why,—you are not jealous, Constance? _Con._ Not jealous, no. _Mar._ And the only pity of it Is that she’ll prove in the end a poor relation Fall’n to our care, or some more hapless girl Left on the doorstep dying. _Con._ In such case, What were the need of secrecy? _Mar._ I wish I had never told thee aught. Why shouldst thou fancy Impossibilities? _Con._ What is impossible? _Mar._ I fear now that the sight of thy old love, Philip the false, hath turned thy happier trust. 470 Thou’rt changed. _Con._ Nay, nay: I am not: and yet ’tis true His coming is my trouble. [_Weeps._ _Mar._ Forgive me, sweetest.