ARETHUSA. Father, may I speak? May I tell you what my heart tells me? You do not understand about my mother. You loved her—O, as few men can love. And she loved you: think how she loved you! In this world, you know—you have told me—there is nothing perfect. All we men and women have our sins; and they are a pain to those that love us, and the deeper the love, the crueller the pain. That is life; and it is life we ask, not heaven; and what matter for the pain, if only the love holds on? Her love held: then she was happy! Her love was immortal; and when she died, her one grief was to be parted from you, her one hope to welcome you again. GAUNT. And you, Arethusa: I was to bring her little maid. ARETHUSA. God bless her, yes, and me! But, father, can you not see that she was blessed among women? GAUNT. Child, child, you speak in ignorance; you touch upon griefs you cannot fathom. ARETHUSA. No, dearest, no. She loved you, loved you and died of it. Why else do women live? What would I ask but just to love my Kit and die for him, and look down from heaven, and see him keep my memory holy and live the nobler for my sake? GAUNT. Ay, do you so love him? ARETHUSA. Even as my mother loved my father. GAUNT. Ay? Then we will see. What right have I—You are your mother’s child: better, tenderer, wiser than I. Let us seek guidance in prayer. Good-night, my little maid. ARETHUSA. O father, I know you at last. SCENE II GAUNT _and_ ARETHUSA _go out_, _L._, _carrying the candles_. _Stage dark_. _A distant clock chimes the quarters_, _and strikes one_. _Then_, _the tap-tapping of Pew’s stick is hear without_; _the key is put into the lock_; _and enter_ PEW, _C._, _he pockets key_, _and is followed by_ KIT, _with dark lantern_ PEW. Quiet, you lubber! Can’t you foot it soft, you that has daylights and a glim? KIT. All right, old boy. How the devil did we get through the door? Shall I knock him up? PEW. Stow your gab (_seizing his wrist_). Under your breath! KIT. Avast that! You’re a savage dog, aren’t you? PEW. Turn on that glim. KIT. It’s as right as a trivet, Pew. What next? By George, Pew, I’ll make your fortune. PEW. Here, now, look round this room, and sharp. D’ye see a old sea-chest? KIT. See it, Pew? why, d’ye think I’m blind? PEW. Take me across, and let me feel of her. Mum; catch my hand. Ah, that’s her (_feeling the chest_), that’s the Golden Mary. Now, see here, my bo, if you’ve the pluck of a weevil in a biscuit, this girl is yours; if you hain’t, and think to sheer off, I’m blind, but I’m deadly. KIT. You’ll keep a civil tongue in your head all the same. I’ll take threats from nobody, blind or not. Let’s knock up the Admiral and be done with it. What I want is to get rid of this dark lantern. It makes me feel like a housebreaker, by George.