62  
WHY JESUS WEPT. 
MOLLY. 
 
Must it be now ? 
 
GLENSTRAE. 
 
Much better now.  There, there !  Wish me good luck, 
Percy ! 
 
SIR PERCY. 
 
I know nothing of your devil’s game.  Good luck ! 
 
GLENSTRAE. 
 
Caste, John Burns.  (Exeunt Marquis and Molly.) 
 
LADY GLENSTRAE. 
 
Hist !  Percy, hither to me.  Is no one looking ? 
 
SIR PERCY. 
 
No, there is no one here. 
 
LADY GLENSTRAE. 
 
I can cure you.  I can make you strong and happy again.  
O what rapture ! 
 
SIR PERCY. 
 
What is it ? 
 
LADY GLENSTRAE. 
 
Here, let me give you this medicine.  A little prick of 
pain, and then — pleasure — Oh !  (She bends caressingly over the 
arm of Sir Percy de Percivale, and stabs it with a needle.)