My father used to sit in carelessly
After his soldier-fashion, while I stood
Between his knees to question him: and here
Gerard our grey retainer,--as he says,
Fed with our food, from sire to son, an age,--
Has told a story--I am to believe!
That Mildred... oh, no, no! both tales are true,
Her pure cheek's story and the forester's!
Would she, or could she, err--much less, confound
All guilts of treachery, of craft, of... Heaven
Keep me within its hand!--I will sit here
Until thought settle and I see my course.
Avert, oh God, only this woe from me!
[As he sinks his head between his arms on the table,
GUENDOLEN'S voice is heard at the door.]

Lord Tresham!
[She knocks.]
Is Lord Tresham there?

[TRESHAM, hastily turning, pulls down the first book
above him and opens it.]

TRESHAM. Come in!
[She enters.]
Ha, Guendolen!--good morning.

GUENDOLEN. Nothing more?

TRESHAM. What should I say more?