KIT. O yes. I forgive you. I suppose you meant it kindly; but there are some kindnesses a man would rather die than take a gift of. When a man is accused, Arethusa, it is not that he fears the gallows—it’s the shame that cuts him. At such a time as that, the way to help was to stand to your belief. You should have nailed my colours to the mast, not spoke of striking them. If I were to be hanged to-morrow, and your love there, and a free pardon and a dukedom on the other side—which would I choose? ARETHUSA. Kit, you must judge me fairly. It was not my life that was at stake, it was yours. Had it been mine—mine, Kit—what had you done, then? KIT. I am a downright fool; I saw it inside out. Why, give you up, by George! ARETHUSA. Ah, you see! Now you understand. It was all pure love. When he said that word—O!—death and that disgrace! . . . But I know my father. He fears nothing so much as the goodness of his heart; and yet it conquers. He would pray, he said: and to-night, and by the kindness of his voice, I knew he was convinced already. All that is wanted, is that you should forgive me. KIT. Arethusa, if you looked at me like that I’d forgive you piracy on the high seas. I was only sulky; I was boxed up there in the black dark, and couldn’t see my hand. It made me pity that blind man, by George! ARETHUSA. O, that blind man! The fiend! He came back, Kit: did you hear him? he thought we had killed you—you! KIT. Well, well, it serves me right for keeping company with such a swab. ARETHUSA. One thing puzzles me: how did you get in? I saw my father lock the door. KIT. Ah, how? That’s just it. I was a sheet in the wind, you see. How did we? He did it somehow. . . . By George, he had a key! He can get in again. ARETHUSA. Again? that man! KIT. Ay, can he! Again! When he likes! ARETHUSA. Kit, I am afraid. O Kit, he will kill my father. KIT. Afraid. I’m glad of that. Now, you’ll see I’m worth my salt at something. Ten to one he’s back to Mrs. Drake’s. I’ll after, and lay him aboard. ARETHUSA. O Kit, he is too strong for you. KIT. Arethusa, that’s below the belt! Never you fear; I’ll give a good account of him. ARETHUSA (_taking cutlass from the wall_). You’ll be none the worse for this, dear. KIT. That’s so (_making cuts_). All the same, I’m half ashamed to draw on a blind man; it’s too much odds. (_He leaps suddenly against the table_.) Ah! ARETHUSA. Kit! Are you ill? KIT. My head’s like a humming top; it serves me right for drinking. ARETHUSA. O, and the blind man! (_She runs_, _L._, _to the corner cupboard_, _brings a bottle and glass_, _and fills and offers glass_.) Here, lad, drink that. KIT. To you! That’s better. (_Bottle and glass remain on Gaunt’s table_.) ARETHUSA. Suppose you miss him? KIT. Miss him! The road is straight; and I can hear the tap-tapping of that stick a mile away. ARETHUSA (_listening_). St! my father stirring in his room!