University of Virginia Library

Scene V.

—Another Street.
(Enter Mary in haste and looking around her. A faint light of dawn glimmers in the East).
Mary.
Not here! Then this is not the road they took,
And my good deed falls fruitless. Long ere now
Their swords have clashed. . . but after all, what matters?
The deeds of years not by one single deed
Are cancelled, though that deed stood out superb
And took the world with sunlight—nay, the world
Is woven of love and horror, these are mixed
Like colours in a web, and God, no doubt,
Could nowise else design a fitting pattern.
God. . . once I hoped in God—in early days
Dreamed that the blue lake glittered at his touch
And that the light of morning on the hills
Was light that fell from heaven; but now—ah! now
The light of morning is an alien thing,—
The light of lamps in festal chambers stirs
Pulses that throb not at the morning's flame:
Yet, while the gay lamps shine, within my soul
Spreads wide the eternal darkness.
(Enter Jesus, unperceived by Mary).
Once a man
Spake words of hope—sweet words from human lips
Seemed to reveal the God behind the veil,
And all my heart in answer to those words
Sprang heavenward, even as flowers whose petals turn
Wide open towards the sunlight. God seemed near:
The lonely mountains, when those words were spoken,
Gleamed as with angels' wings, and all the earth
Was as God's footstool; now this sinful city
Stands between me and God, and all my deeds
Raise clamorous voices, crying “In such a place
You ruined one—another—here another—
Depart, for hell awaits you.” I had dreamed
I might be loved—but once—with noble love,
Love born of heaven and light: I have been loved,
Not once—a hundred times—yet every time
Have learned to scorn the lover, seeing his love
Was born of starless darkness. Now to-night—
The East's afire with dawn,—no dawn for me
Upon the earth accursed, accursed in heaven,
Worshipped by man (what is that but a curse?)
Yet ever hearing in my heart the cry
“Thou, worshipped one, art just the lowest of things!
Men kiss thy lips, and then behind thy back
Their wanton foul tongues make a jest of thee:
Thou art the lowest of things—a fallen woman.”
For all else there is hope; for snakes and worms,
For thieves and murderers, for vilest things,
Men who seduce, the base hearts that betray—
Aye, for the lowest of men there still is hope,
But is there hope for woman?

Jesus
(advancing towards Mary).
There is hope.