58  
WHY JESUS WEPT. 
SIR PERCY. 
 
What !  I have loved you, and you me — No ? — it cannot 
be so !  and now — I am ill — you cast me away !  (Turns his face 
away.)  Forgive me, I am very weak. 
 
ANGELA, goes to him and stands over him. 
 
You shall have truth, you blind little fool.  I hate you.  
From the hour you kissed that village drab, I hated you.  
I wanted your youth, your strength, your life, your name on 
my list, your scalp at my girdle.  Enough !  Do you under-
stand ?  These friends will teach you.  May I never see your 
pale pasty face again !  [She spits at him and goes.) 
 
SIR PERCY, half rises and falls back. 
 
Oh !  oh !  It is impossible.  Lord Marquis, you are a 
good man.  Tell me, it is a hideous dream. 
 
GLENSTRAE. 
 
No dream, my boy.  You are the hundredth she has 
treated after this fashion.  But cheer up now.  There !  
There !  Women are all the same.  Eh, Maud ? 
 
LADY GLENSTRAE. 
 
Who calls ?  What do you want ?  Leave me alone ! 
 
GLENSTRAE. 
 
Ah, nothing !  Nothing, my dear.