Charles Di Tocca - LightNovelsOnl.com
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CHARLES (_taking her hand_): Well--come.
(_As in a trance._) There's much to do. We will think of the dead.
Perchance 'twill keep them near us: speak to them, And they may answer while we wait, may float Dim words on moonbeams to us. O for one That shall sound of forgiveness and of rest!
(_More wildly._) O I have started on the mountain's brow A tremor that has loosed the avalanche; And penitence too late--too late--too late-- Was powerless as flowers along its path!
(_He sinks back into his chair and stares hopelessly before him._)
CURTAIN.
