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[Recovering himself, looks keenly at her for a moment.] So that, too, was said of me here by my friends—that she sent for me before she died and that I did not go?

Yes.

[Coldly.] She did not. She died alone, not having forgiven me, and fortified by the rites of holy church.

Mr Rowan, why do you speak to me in such a way?

[Rises and walks nervously to and fro.] And what I suffer at this moment you will say is my punishment.

Did she write to you? I mean before

[Halting.] Yes. A letter of warning, bidding me break with the past, and remember her last words to me.

[Softly.] And does death not move you, Mr Rowan? It is an end. Everything else is so uncertain.

While she lived she turned aside from me and from mine. That is certain.

From you and from