Act Iii.

Scene I: Interior of Clemm cottage. A large room simply furnished. Low fire burning in fireplace. Poe at table writing. Suddenly drops pen and picks up two letters)

Poe. I must destroy these. She must not know.... My wife.... (drops letters absentmindedly) ... Married. Married? What spirit so subtly fine can mingle here?... Back, back, ye troops of devils damned or angels blest--I know not which to call ye--summoning me to those lone regions of the mind where none may follow! None?... Helen could tread those airy worlds with me!... Helen!... Far, far as zenith stars that ride the blue meridian thou art, and I, deep, deep, to nadir sink! (Drops his head to the table)

Virginia. (Without) Edgar! (He lifts his head smiling as she enters)

Vir. (Holding out a book) O, I know the alphabet! I can say it all! (Gives him the book) Watch now, and see if I make a mistake!

Edgar. (Smiling.) I'll hardly need the book, dear.

Vir. (Pouting.) O, I forget that you know everything!

Poe. Not everything. (Taking her face between his hands as she sits on his knee, the book falling at their feet) I do not know how to be happy when this beautiful face is gone. My wife is the fairest lady in all the world.

Vir. Then what does it matter about this old Greek, Edgar? (Touching book with her foot)

Poe. Just this. You can not always be young and beautiful, and when you are no longer the fairest I want you to be the wisest.

Vir. And if I am you will love me always?

Poe. Always.

Vir. Give me the book! (Picks it up) O, I will eat Greek! I will breakfast with the heroes, dine with the bards, and sup with the gods! But what a pity one must begin with the alphabet to end with--what were those lovely lines I found in your book yesterday?

And Helen on the walls rose like a star, And every Trojan said 'she's worth our blood,' And every Greek ploughed new his way to her--

Go on, Edgar! I'm sure you know them!

(As she repeats the lines he presses her head to his shoulder and puts his hand over her eyes. His face is full of agony, but there is only sweetness in his voice.)

Poe. Not now, my little wife. Some other time.

Vir. Helen is such a beautiful name. I wish I had been named Helen.

Poe. Thank God you are not!

Vir. (Looking up hastily) Why--

Poe. I mean that I want you to be just as you are--my Virginia--nothing else!

Vir. (Seeing he is troubled) I am keeping you from your work. You should have sent me away. I'll be angry with you, Edgar, if you let me disturb you. Now I'm going to find the last rose of summer for you.

Poe. But you haven't said your lesson.

Vir. O! (begins) Alpha, beta,--now if I say them right you are to give me a kiss for reward!

Poe. And if you miss one, I'll give you a kiss for encouragement.

Vir. (Seeing letter) O, a letter from New York! You've made me your secretary, you know, and of course I must read your letters! (Picks it up and glances at it) He says Mr. Willis will certainly give you a place on his paper. (Drops letter and looks at him quietly) It is your chance for fortune.

Poe. I am not going, love.

Vir. If you go now it means success, if you wait failure.

Poe. I shall not go, Virginia.

Vir. If you were not married you would go.

Poe. Then I am glad I can not go.

Vir. But you can go, Edgar.

Poe. My darling, I will never take you away from your mocking birds and roses. Don't you think any more about it. Run away now and find me a flower. You will have to look sharp under the leaves, for the wind is whistling to-day. Our little sham winter has begun to bluster. (Exit Virginia) She shall not suffer. She shall not! Though my heart surges like a prisoned sea hers shall not move her bosom's alabaster!... Why didn't I burn that letter. (Throws it into the fire. Take up the other one) I must keep the lawyer's. I shall need it. (Puts it in his pocket) Now work--work--work--(Resumes writing) 'The Kingdom of the Sun is peopled with beings whose distinguishing attribute is color instead of form as with us. This color varies with each thought of the spirit that it invests, and also with the eye that beholds it. There is no need to pellet the ear with rude words, for the most refined meanings and emotions are conveyed by these subtle variations of color coming and going like breathing light. Were--' (Enter Mrs. Clemm)

Mrs. C. Edgar, dear, your breakfast has been waiting two hours.

Poe. O, thank you, aunt. Don't trouble about me this morning. I shall want nothing.

Mrs. C. But, Edgar, my son, I must speak. You do not sleep and eat as people should who wish to live long for those who love them.

Poe. Dear aunt, pray--we'll talk about it some other time. I must work now!

Mrs. C. I am sorry to disturb you, love, but there is one question I must ask you. Have you heard from the lawyer? (Poe is silent) A letter came. I thought you would tell me, and not force me to ask about what I must know. Is the place sold?

Poe. No.

Mrs. C. But it will be? We must lose our home?

Poe. No, darling mother! I am going to pay off everything! This very article I am writing will bring me fame if I finish it. So please help me by not worrying one bit, and don't let our Virginia suspect anything.

Mrs. C. It would kill her! O, Edgar, I have been wanting to tell you how grateful I am to you for your gentleness to her. Though she looks so strong, she has been frail from her birth. I know that she must die early. I ought to have told you--that day--but I could think of nothing. You will forgive me, Edgar? She is such a child. I wonder at your patience. But you will never be impatient with her, Edgar?

Poe. If I am, may God that moment end my villain's life! Go now, sweet mother, for I must work, and remember that you are to be troubled about nothing. (Exit Mrs. Clemm, right, rear) Goodbye, Art! Thou pure chrystalline dream! I must turn my brain into a mint and coin money! O, Poesy, thou only divine mistress given to man, some day I will return to thee! (Writes) 'Were zephyrs made visible by means of ever changing hues--' (Bony and Tat rush into the room. Poe glares at them with a face of fury. They turn to fly panic-stricken. Tat trips on a chair and lies moaning. Poe goes to her)

Poe. (Gently) Are you hurt, Tatsy?

Bony. (At door, turning back, suddenly impudent at sound of Poe's softened voice) She jes sullin', Mars Edgah. She play possum like dat wid me!

Poe. Get out, you little imp! (Bony vanishes) Where are you hurt, Tatsy? (She moans bitterly) Poor little girl! Her foot is twisted. A sprain perhaps. (Picks her up and carries her to sofa) Never mind! I've got a fairy in a bottle will cure that in a jiffy. Just rub it on, and ho, Tatsy is well again!

(Enter Zurie, Bony clinging to her)

Zu. Wha' my chile? Lawdy God, my chile sho' 'nuf hurt! (Goes to Tatsy)

Poe. It's the foot, Zurie. Be careful!

Zu. Yas, I's seen dat foot befoh! (Gives foot a yank) Dat's her ol' trick, Mars Edgah. She jes foolin' yo'! Don' yo' be so soft hearted next time. Yo' jes take her by de back ob de neck and wring her head off!

Poe. I certainly will!

(Exit Zurie, drawing Tat. Poe goes back to his work. Groans, and looks with desperation at his manuscript)

Poe. O, if this eludes me! I must not lose it now! (Writes) 'In this Kingdom of the Sun there is a central creating light that plays upon these color-beings with its own transmuting--'

(Re-enter Mrs. Clemm, bearing a tray)

Mrs. C. My dear, I've brought you some toast and an egg.

Poe. (Jumping up and staring at her) They don't eat toast and eggs in the Kingdom of the Sun!

Mrs. C. Edgar!

Poe. Forgive me! It's just something I'm writing here. But for God's sake take the stuff away!

(Mrs. Clemm turns to go, the tray trembling in her hands. Poe runs to her and kisses her) You sweetest and best of mothers, don't you see that if I eat this I'll spend the next two hours digesting toast and eggs, and if I don't eat it I'll be making our fortune, putting a roof over our heads, and keeping our Virginia happy!

Mrs. C. I only meant to be kind, Edgar.

Poe. I know you did, and you're my darling mother,--but don't be kind any more.

(Exit Mrs. Clemm. Poe sits despairingly at table. Enter Ethel and Annie)

Eth. O, Edgar, where is Virginia? We want her to go nutting with us.

Annie. We shall have her now! You shan't keep her all to yourself just because you've married her!

Poe. Take her by all means!

Eth. You needn't be vicious about it. Where is she?

Poe. I don't know,--and pardon if I say that just at this moment I don't care!

(Gathers up papers and goes toward stairway in corner of room)

Annie. You needn't run from us. I'm sure we're glad to go. I'll find Virginia.

Eth. And I'll write that note to Gladys while you're gone. (Seats herself in Poe's chair. Exit Annie, left, rear) Come back, if you want to, Edgar. You won't disturb me at all. (Writes. Poe pauses on stairway and looks at her. Ethel lifts her eyes) You needn't look so far to see me. I'm not the North Pole! What are you thinking of, Edgar?

Poe. Of what Anacreon said to a fly that lighted on his brow when he was composing an ode to Venus.

Ethel. O! What was it?

Poe. Away, thou rude and slight impertinence, That with thy puny and detested bill Dost think to feed on immortality.

(Goes upstairs)

Ethel. Beast! (Writes) Virginia spoils him. If I had him now I'd soon make a nice comfortable husband out of him!... An envelope?... Yes.... (Takes one) Stamp?... Yes.... (Takes one) I'll get Bony to mail this for me.

(Exit, right, rear. Poe comes down stairway)

Poe. Gone? Deliverance! It's too chilly for work upstairs. (Coughs) What shall I do here this winter with only one comfortable room in the house? Keep warm by the fire in my brain, I suppose. (Sits and writes. Virginia is heard without, humming a song. She enters, left, front, with a rose in her hand)

Vir. Darling, I found it deep under the leaves--Oh! (Starts out softly. Poe writes on without looking up. At the door she turns and throws the rose towards him. It falls onto the table and upsets ink over papers)

Poe. (Leaping up) By every fiend in hell!

(Mrs. Clemm rushes in, followed by Zurie, Tat and Bony)

Mrs. C. My son, what is the matter?

Poe. See what that child has done!

Mrs. C. (With dignity) Your wife, Edgar.

Poe. My wife! Great God! O, Helen! Helen! (Rushes from the room, left rear)

Bony. I tol' yo' he wah mad! I done tol' yo' Mars Edgah gone mad! He look at me jes so! (Mimics)

Tat. (Looking through window) Dah he go now troo de orchard jes a runnin'!

Bony. Obah de fence!

Tat. An' no hat on!

Zu. Stop yo' mouf an' come out o' heah, yo' wussless niggahs! I make yo' know wha' yo' b'longs!

(Takes them out)

Mrs. C. O, Virginia! What an hour for you!

Vir. What an hour for him, mamma!

Mrs. C. Strange child! Not to think of yourself!

Vir. How can I, when he is suffering so?

Mrs. C. My angel daughter!

Vir. (Kissing her) We will be brave, my mother. I hear the girls. Go to them one moment--do! (Exit Mrs. Clemm) ... Helen! Dear God above! (Drops on her knees by a chair. After a moment of agony, rises, goes to table and looks at papers) What is it I have ruined? (Reads silently) O, what beauty!... I think I can make this out and copy it for him. But now he may never finish it. The heavenly moment is gone ... and I robbed him of it.... I, who should guard him and keep the world away. That is my little part--too little, God knows! O, if I could really help him!

(Enter Ethel and Annie)

Eth. O, Virginia, now that we're rid of that troublesome husband let's have one of our good old-fashioned times! We'll sit by the fire and tell tales. It's too cold anyway to go to the woods.

Vir. (Absently) Edgar is there.

Annie. And there let him stay! I'm sure it's better for both of you. You hang about him too much, Virginia. He'll quit loving you, mamma says he will, if you're not more sensible. Help me draw up this sofa, Ethel. (They pull sofa to the fire. Annie settles herself comfortably) I feel just like giving you a lecture, Virginia. You must make Edgar go out more. Anybody will get queer shut up here. The other day when mamma asked him to come to our party he wasn't more than half polite when he refused, and we were going to have Mr. Melrose Libbie to meet him too. Said his work would keep him at home! Now you know, Virginia, that poetry isn't work. It's just dash off a line now and then, and there you are! Mr. Libbie said so. O, he had the sweetest thing on the woman's page in last Sunday's paper! Did you see it? You'd better call Edgar's attention to it. Mamma read it to all of us at the breakfast table, and--

Eth. O, stop your chatter, Annie, and let Virginia tell us one of her fairy stories just as she used to do. We'll forget all about Edgar and make believe she isn't married at all.

Vir. (Painfully) Forgive me, dear girls, but I've some work that I must do to-day.

Mabel. Must do! Who ever heard the like?

Vir. I was wrong. It is some work that I choose to do--that it will be my happiness to do.

Ethel. For Edgar?

Vir. Yes.

Annie. You are a little fool!

Vir. Yes ... I am a little fool.

Ethel. O, there's help for you if you know it!

Vir. If I were not a little fool I could be of more help to Edgar.

Ethel and Annie. Oh!

Annie. (Jumping up) Then we can't stay to-day!

Vir. I am so sorry--but--

Annie. O, we might as well give you up first as last! (Exeunt girls)

Vir. (Sits at table and stares at the papers) ... A little fool ... a little fool.

(CURTAIN)

Scene II: Same room as before. Night. Virginia sits motionless in the dim firelight. Mrs. Clemm comes softly down the stairs)

Mrs. C. Virginia?

Vir. Naughty mamma! You said you would sleep. What a story to tell your little girl!

Mrs. C. (Advancing) The rain--wakes me. (Comes to fire) Did Edgar take his cloak, dear?

Vir. No, mother.

Mrs. C. Are you not cold in that dress, darling?

Vir. O no--quite comfortable--and Edgar likes me in white, you know. (A window rattles. Both look anxiously toward the door)

Mrs. C. What a gust!... I wonder what winter is like at the north. (Virginia looks at her quickly, and both drop their eyes) ... To think of him out on a night like this! And he has not been well lately. Had he no purpose? Did he say nothing when he went out?

Vir. He said he was going to seek Truth.

Mrs. C. And what does he mean by truth, Virginia?

Vir. O, I don't know. When he is talking I understand, but when he is gone it all fades and I know nothing about it.

Mrs. C. Nor does Edgar, mark me, dear. He is trying to know things that the wise God decreed should remain unknown to mortals. That is what makes him so unhappy.... Did he eat his breakfast this morning, Virginia?

Vir. No, mamma.

Mrs. C. Did he take any food yesterday?... Tell me, daughter. I can not help you if I do not know. (Virginia begins to sob) There! there, darling! A little patience and we'll get him over this.

Vir. O, mother!

Mrs. C. Come here, my little girl. (Takes Virginia in her arms) Now tell me! Don't let the heart go heavy when mother ears are waiting.

Vir. He ... goes out at night ... and I follow him because it kills me to think of him wandering alone. We were on Burney hill last night.

Mrs. C. Five miles!... Then that is what these pale cheeks and dark eyes mean! And Edgar let you go!

Vir. No! I go! I am not a child, mother. Ah, I knew you would not understand!

Mrs. C. Yes, yes, I do, Virginia. I know he suffers, but you--

Vir. Don't speak of me! You shame me! Were I to lie down on those coals my torture would be less than his. Remember that, mother. When you doubt, as you surely will, remember that I told you, and I know. His mind is a living thing, throbbing through his body and leaving him no shield of flesh. O, mamma, help him! Promise me! You will never forsake him?

Mrs. C. Never, my love.

Vir. I would not have told you, but my strength is gone, and somebody must know,--somebody who is strong. (A gust shakes the window) O, my darling! Out in that blackness alone! And if I were there I could say nothing. That is the pity of it, mamma. I have no words, and thought without tongue is nothing so long as we are mortal and wear these bodies. Some day it may be enough just to be a soul, but not now--not now!

Mrs. C. O, my daughter!

Vir. Promise me, mamma, that if I die you will find Helen. She could help him!

Mrs. C. (Rising) Virginia, if you say another word like that I shall think you are mad--or I am! (Bursts into weeping)

Vir. Darling, darling mother! Now I have given you all my burdens you will grow weak under them, and I want strength, strength by my side!

Mrs. C. (Calm) You must go to bed, dear. I will wait for Edgar.

Vir. No, no!

Mrs. C. I will coax him to eat something.

Vir. (Smiling sadly) Coax him, mamma?

Mrs. C. Yes, dear. Go now.

Vir. I can not.

Mrs. C. I command you, my daughter.

Vir. Please do not command me. You have never had to pardon disobedience in me.

Mrs. C. Nor shall I have cause now. Obey me, Virginia.

Vir. Would you send me into hell, mother?

Mrs. C. Daughter!

Vir. That is what a bed is to me when Edgar is out like this.

Mrs. C. You make too much of these wanderings. Night and day are alike to him.

Vir. Ah, it is not the night that I fear!... Go, mamma! It is you who must rest. O, how we need these strong arms--this clear head! I shall nod in my chair for the thought of you getting your needed rest will bring the winks to my own eyes. Come! (Draws her toward stairway) I promise you that I will sleep in the big chair as snug and tight as kitty herself. (Kisses her)

Mrs. C. (On the stairs) I can not leave my sick child to watch. You ask me to do an inhuman thing, Virginia. I will not go.

Vir. Mother!... Do not let me hurt you ... the dearest, the most unselfish of mothers ... but it is better for me to meet my husband alone.

(Mrs. Clemm turns and goes slowly upstairs. Virginia goes back to fire)

Vir. Watch and pray! I can but watch and pray!... He said 'twas love he wanted ... and I brought him that ... love that shakes but with the globe itself. But it does not help ... 'twas all wrong ... all wrong! (Weeps. Rises, and busies herself about an oven on the hearth) Three times I have prepared his supper that it might be fresh enough to tempt him. But now ... I am so tired. I must try to keep this warm. The sight of it may make him angry ... but I must try. (Arranges some clothes on a chair) He will be so wet with the rain. Ah, I can do nothing ... nothing. (Looks toward door) He is coming! Strength, strength. O my God!

(Poe throws door open. Turns and speaks as if to companions outside)

Poe. Goodnight, goodnight, brave Beauty's fearless angels! (Comes in) Well, Dame Venus, what thoughts for your hobbling Vulcan?

Vir. (Brightly) My Hermes, you mean. I'm sure you're feather-footed, you go so far and fast.

Poe. Why, sweet-mouth, a kiss for that! (Kisses her)

Vir. O, my love, you are dripping with the rain.

Poe. Well, and so are the trees. Not a leaf out there but is shaking her pearls. Who flies from Nature but man? Let her be terrible, glorious, worthy of his eyes and his heart, and forthwith he takes to his hole.

Vir. I hate her to-night. She kept me from following you.

Poe. Virginia! (Seizes her hands, crushing them in his, and gazing at her with fierce earnestness) Never do that again! Never again! (Lets her hands fall, and turns toward door as if he must go out. Her eyes follow him eagerly, but she tries to speak carelessly)

Vir. Here are your dry things, dear, and I've kept something hot for your supper.

Poe. (Turning) Yes ... this is a very valuable skin of mine. Make it comfortable. But what of me, Virginia? That something here burning with fires that would brighten Olympos' head! Have you no welcome for me? (Virginia is silent) Why are you so pale? Light all the lamps! You should not sit in the dark. There are no stars in this den!

Vir. (Hurriedly lighting lamp) I'm sorry, love, but last night you wanted the dark--don't you remember?

Poe. No, I don't remember. Memory is a hyena, always scratching up our dead selves! You must not remember, Virginia!

Vir. Yes, dear.

Poe. Forgive me, love. O, I am driving myself mad! Selling myself to the devil of prose that I may bring in that fool's litter--money, money, money--and for what? That we may feed the flesh that devours our souls, and hang such rubbish as this on our backs! (Sweeps garments from chair) O, Virginia, if you were brave enough we would forget these rags of the body and go like spirits to meet our brothers of the night! They are all out there! Will you go with me, my bride?

Vir. O, Edgar!

Poe. Ha! You would rather ask them in to have something dry and something hot! But I must have the air! (Throws door open. Lightning flashes on falling rain. Virginia shrinks from the wind) Hear those winds! Gathering lost souls to the bosom of Night! Feel those drops! Every one of them the tear of a fallen god! O, is it nothing but rain? Ha! ha! ha! (Virginia coughs. Poe closes the door hastily. She coughs again)

Poe. Don't, Virginia!

Vir. Yes, dear.

Poe. My angel! (Embraces her. She coughs) O, it is these wet clothes! (Throws off coat, picks up dressing gown from the door and puts it on hurriedly)

Vir. (Eagerly) Your slippers too, dear!

Poe. Yes, yes, my slippers! (Puts them on. Sits in big chair, taking her on his knee, and embracing her tenderly) What made you cough, Virginia?

Vir. O, 'twas nothing, dear. 'Tis all right now. Everything is all right.

Poe. Is it, little wisdom? O, ye gods!

Vir. (Concealing anxiety) Darling?

Poe. What, my beautiful earth-bird?

Vir. You will take your supper now?

Poe. (Impatiently) No, no! Is there any wine in the house?

Vir. Yes, love, but--

Poe. I must have it! Quick! I shall faint.

Vir. (Rising) No, Edgar. It is food you need.

Poe. (Rising) Where is it?

Vir. O, my dearest!

Poe. Tell me, Virginia! (Goes toward a closet)

Vir. (Getting before him) If you were reaching for a cup of poison, Edgar, I would risk my life, ay, risk your love, to dash it from you. And wine is your poison. I can not let you drink death.

Poe. Death! It is all the life that is left to me, and you deny it!

Vir. Be quiet, love. You will wake our mother.

Poe. Down, gods, and let the lady sleep!

Vir. She is not well, Edgar.

Poe. But she will be well to-morrow, and I--I am immortally sick and you deny me a drop of wine.

Vir. O, my poor boy! I'm so sorry for you!

Poe. And is that all, O Heaven? I'm her poor boy, and she is so sorry for me! Why, here's a heart that loosens in its throbs the birth-song of new stars! Come, strike thy chime with mine, and though all bells upon the planet jingle, in us will still be music!

Vir. O, Edgar!

Poe. Well?

Vir. I can not speak.

Poe. Virginia, Virginia! I pour out my soul to you! I keep back no drop of its sea! From the infinite, shrouded sources of life I rush to you in a thousand singing rivers, only to waste, to burn, to die on the sands of silence! (She remains motionless, her head bowed) ... It is so still upon the eternal peaks. Will you not come up with me and be the bride of my dreams? You need not speak ... you need not say a word. Only put the light of poesy in your eyes and let me see that through the channel of their beauty course the mysteries that begin with God and end not with time! (She looks at him. He gazes into her eyes) ... Tears ... only tears. (Turns away) Can a soul's eyes be dumb? (She sits, weeping silently) ... Come then ... talk of what you will. Only talk! You have read a little Byron to-day? The new magazine came? And you have made me a handkerchief? (She sobs. He looks at her remorsefully, crosses the room, gets her harp and brings it to the fireside) Come ... sing to me, Virginia. You can do that.

Vir. (Taking harp) What shall I sing, dear?

Poe. Something to charm the very heart of AEolus! That will turn a tempest into a violet's breath!

Vir. Ah, my love!

Poe. O, sing--sing anything!

Vir. (Sings)

Great and calm, cool-bosomed blue, Take me to the heart of you! Not where thy blue mystery Sweeps the surface of the sea, Leaving in a dying gleam Living trouble of a dream; Not where loves of heaven lie Rosy 'gainst the upper sky Burning with an ardent touch

Where an angel kissed too much; But where sight and sound come not, All of life and love forgot, All of Heaven forfeited For thy deep Nirvana bed. Wide and far enfolding blue, Take me to the heart--

(Her voice breaks suddenly)

Poe. Virginia! (She coughs) Don't! (Her cough increases. She puts her handkerchief to her lips. Poe takes it from her hand and looks at it.) Blood! (Throws handkerchief into the fire, and stands as if paralyzed, gazing at Virginia. Falls at her feet and begins kissing her skirt) My angel! my angel! I have killed my little bride!

Vir. (Urging him gently up) No, dear. I was marked for this from birth. My doom was written by Heaven, not you.

Poe. Not doom, my Virginia! (Rising) I will save you, my darling! You shall have everything! With the sickle of a wish you shall harvest the earth! We will sail southern seas! We will follow the Spring as she flies! I will knock at the orient gates and bring thee the health of morning! I'll make the world so bright for thee, Hyperion's self shall wear new gold and shame remembered suns from chronicle! Spring from perfection's heart shall pluck her buds, and set such gloss on Nature she may laud her old self in one violet's requiem! O, I'll sing the world into a flower for thy bosom! My love, my love, my love! (She coughs restrainedly. He hides his face till she stops) Even the senseless oak velvets its rude sides to the tender vine! But I--a man--O, beast too vile for hell! too low to be damned!

Vir. Edgar!

Poe. Do not touch me! is not the mark here? (Touching his brow) O, where shall I hide it?

Vir. (Drawing him to her) On my bosom, Edgar. (Presses him to the large chair and sits on the arm of it, caressing him) This forehead is as pure as heaven-lit ivory of angels' brows!

Poe. O, golden heart! (Kisses her over her heart) I will work so hard, Virginia! We shall be rich, and I will take you to some wonderful land where beauty can not die! Will you forgive me then when you are bright and strong in some happy isle of roses?

Vir. I will forgive you now, dearest, if you will do one thing for me.

Poe. O, what, my darling?

Vir. Eat the poor little supper I have cooked for you.

Poe. Yes--yes--I'll eat it though it be hell's coals!

Vir. Now that's a compliment to your cook, isn't it? (Takes food from oven and puts it on table. Poe eats, at first reluctantly, then hungrily)

Poe. It is late--so late! O, my Lenore, you kept up for me! Your weary eyes would not close until they had found their lover! O, can you forgive me, and take me back to your heart? You will love me again?

Vir. Ah, Edgar, if love were enough we should always be happy.

Poe. Love me, love me, dear! I want no more! And this cough ... we shall stop all that, darling! O, how weary you must be, and you tried to have everything so beautiful for me! How pretty your dress is! You look like a Naiad smiling out of a lily. But it's too cold! Here, I will wrap you! (Puts shawl about her) Ah, little wife, little wife, what evil power locked your gentle heart with mine? Bear with me, love. It will all be different soon. I shall try so hard the gods for pity will not let me fail! See how I have eaten! You may give me more, love. You did not cook this, I know. You stole it from Jove's kitchen.

Vir. (Getting food) Yes, I did, and Jove caught me, but he let me go when I told him it was for a poet.

Poe. Little witch! (Kisses her) How happy we shall be, Virginia, as soon as I have money. I shall go to New York for a year. It will take only a year. Then I shall come back bringing the lady Fame with me, and you must not be jealous of her.

Vir. (Slowly) You--would not--take me?

Poe. Why, the north-wind would blow the Spring from my little girl's cheek! Just a year! That is the first step--a cruel one--but we shall be happy when it is over. Just a year, sweetheart! I must take no chances now! I must win!

Vir. You shall not leave me! A year will not hurt me, Edgar! But it would kill me to be left here ... and not know ... every minute....

Poe. Do you care so much, Lenore? Then we will both stay here. It will take longer, but I will work harder--

Vir. Enough for to-night. We are too happy for to-morrows, Edgar. Now you must have a long, long sleep--

Poe. No, no! No bed for me to-night! I must work!

Vir. No bed, indeed! I did not say bed, my lord! You are going to sit down here (Places him on footstool) and I shall sit here, (settles in chair) and your head in my lap--my hands on your head--and the crooningest of little songs will bring you the sweetest snatch of sleep that you ever, ever had!

Poe. O, 'tis heaven, Virginia! But you are too tired, my angel. You must sleep.

Vir. And so I shall when my lord shows me the way.

(Poe drops his head on her lap. She turns down light. He falls asleep as she sings softly)

Like a fallen star on the breast of the sea My lover rests on the heart of me; The lord of the tempest hies him down From his billow-crest to his cavern-throne, And 'tis peace as wide as the eye can see When my lover rests on the heart of me.

(Silence. Virginia droops in sleep. No light but dull red coals.)

(CURTAIN)