Shall I again, a renovated soul,
Into the blessed family of the good
Admittance have? Think'st thou that this may be?
Speak if thou canst; O speak me comfort here!
For dreadful fancies, like an armed host,
Have push'd me to despair. It is most horrible—
O speak of hope! if any hope there be.
(Jane is silent and looks sorrowfully upon him; then clasping her hands, and turning her eyes to heaven, seems to mutter a prayer.)
De Mon. Ha! dost thou pray for me? heav'n hear thy prayer!
I fain would kneel—Alas! I dare not do it.
Jane. Not so; all by th' Almighty Father form'd
May in their deepest mis'ry call on him.
Come kneel with me, my brother.
(She kneels and prays to herself; he kneels by her, and clasps his hands fervently, but speaks not. A noise of chains clanking is heard without, and they both rise.)
De Mon. Hear'st thou that noise? They come to interrupt us.
Jane (Moving towards a side door.) Then let us enter here.
De Mon. (Catching hold of her with a look of horrour.) Not there—not there—the corps—the bloody corps.
Jane. What, lies he there?—Unhappy Rezenvelt!
