_Mat_. Yes; if we could get at them. But we can live till we die, Sukey. _Sus_. I'll go and list for a soldier, I will. Women ha' done it afore. It's quite respectable, so long as they don't find you out--and they shouldn't me. There's ne'er a one o' the redcoats 'ill cut up rougher 'n I shall--barrin' the beard, and _that_ don't go for much now-a-days. _Mat_. And what should I do without you, Susan? _Sus_. Do you care to have me, then? _Mat_. That I do, indeed. But you shouldn't have talked like that to Mrs. Clifford. Ladies ain't used to such words. They sound worse than they are--quite dreadful, to them. She don't know your kind heart as I do. Besides, the _look_ of things is against us. Ain't it now? Say yourself. _Sus_. (_starting up_) I'll go and beg her pardon. I'll go direckly--I will. I swear I will. I can't abear her, but I'll do it. I believe hunger has nigh drove me mad. _Mat_. It takes all the madness out of me.--No, Susan; we must bear it now. Come along. We can be miserable just as well working. There's your sleeve. I'll thread your needle for you. Don't cry--there's a dear! _Sus_. I _will_ cry. It's all I ever could do to my own mind, and it's all as is left me. But if I could get my claws on that lovyer o' yours, I wouldn't cry then. He's at the bottom of it! I don't see myself what's the use of fallin' in love. One man's as much of a fool as another to me. But you must go to bed. You ain't fit. You'll be easier when you've got your frock off. There! Why, child, you're all of a tremble!--And no wonder, wi' nothing on her blessed body but her frock and her shimmy! _Mat_. Don't take off my frock, Sue. I must get on with my work. _Sus_. Lie down a bit, anyhow. I'll lie at your back, and you'll soon be as warm's a toast. (MAT. _lies down_.) O Lord! she's dead! Her heart's stopped beatin'. (_Runs out of the room_.) _A moment of silence. A tap at the door_. CONSTANCE _peeps in, then enters, with a basket_. _Con_. Miss Pearson!--She's asleep. (_Goes near_.) Good heavens! (_Lays her hand on her_.) No. (_Takes a bottle from her basket, finds a cup, and pours into it_.) Take this, Miss Pearson; it will do you good. There now! You'll find something else in the basket. _Mat_. I don't want anything. I had so nearly got away! Why did you bring me back? _Con_. Life is good! _Mat_. It is _not_ good. How dare you do it? Why keep a miserable creature alive? Life ain't to us what it is to you. The grave is the only place _we_ have any right to. _Con_. If I could make your life worth something to you-- _Mat_. You make my life worth to me! You don't know what you're saying, miss. (_Sitting up_.) _Con_. I think I do. _Mat_. I will _not_ owe my life to you. I _could_ love you, though--your hands are so white, and your look so brave. That's what comes of being born a lady. We never have a chance. _Con_. Miss Pearson--Mattie, I would call you, if you wouldn't be offended--