_To these_, GAUNT GAUNT. Arethusa, this is no place for you. ARETHUSA. No, father. GAUNT. I wish you had been spared this sight; but look at him, child, since you are here; look at God’s image, so debased. And you, young man (_to_ KIT), you have proved that I was right. Are you the husband for this innocent maid? KIT. Captain Gaunt, I have a word to say to you. Terror is your last word; you’re bitter hard upon poor sinners, bitter hard and black—you that were a sinner yourself. These are not the true colours: don’t deceive yourself; you’re out of your course. [GAUNT. Heaven forbid that I should be hard, Christopher. It is not I; it’s God’s law that is of iron. Think! if the blow were to fall now, some cord to snap within you, some enemy to plunge a knife into your heart; this room, with its poor taper light, to vanish; this world to disappear like a drowning man into the great ocean; and you, your brain still whirling, to be snatched into the presence of the eternal Judge: Christopher French, what answer would you make? For these gifts wasted, for this rich mercy scorned, for these high-handed bravings of your better angel,—what have you to say? KIT. Well, sir, I want my word with you, and by your leave I’ll have it out. ARETHUSA. Kit, for pity’s sake! KIT. Arethusa, I don’t speak to you, my dear: you’ve got my ring, and I know what that means. The man I speak to is Captain Gaunt. I came to-day as happy a man as ever stepped, and with as fair a look-out. What did you care? what was your reply? None of your flesh and blood, you said, should lie at the mercy of a wretch like me! Am I not flesh and blood that you should trample on me like that? Is that charity, to stamp the hope out of a poor soul?] GAUNT. You speak wildly; or the devil of drink that is in you speaks instead. KIT. You think me drunk? well, so I am, and whose fault is it but yours? It was I that drank; but you take your share of it, Captain Gaunt: you it was that filled the can. GAUNT. Christopher French, I spoke but for your good, your good and hers. ‘Woe unto him’—these are the dreadful words—‘by whom offences shall come: it were better—’ Christopher, I can but pray for both of us. KIT. Prayers? Now I tell you freely, Captain Gaunt, I don’t value your prayers. Deeds are what I ask; kind deeds and words—that’s the true-blue piety: to hope the best and do the best, and speak the kindest. As for you, you insult me to my face; and then you’ll pray for me? What’s that? Insult behind my back is what I call it! No, sir; you’re out of the course; you’re no good man to my view, be you who you may. MRS. DRAKE. O Christopher! To Captain Gaunt? ARETHUSA. Father, father, come away! KIT. Ah, you see? She suffers too; we all suffer. You spoke just now of a devil; well, I’ll tell you the devil you have: the devil of judging others. And as for me, I’ll get as drunk as Bacchus. GAUNT. Come! SCENE V