ller. (Arranging books) Queer chap. We public men get to
know all sorts. That book will be mine yet. It's a good
seller at ten dollars, and blest if I wouldn't like to
help the wretch out with fifty cents. He'll be back.

(Enter Helen)

Hel. I wish to buy the book the gentleman has just left with
you.

Bookseller.
Why ma'am, he's gone and took it with him.

Hel. Took it with him?

Bookseller.
Yes, ma'am, and thereby I've lost time and trade.
(Aside) She'd give fifteen!

Hel. He needed money?

Bookseller.
Well, I should _guess_ so, ma'am. That's the last
book he had. He told me about it before. He's been
bringin' them all here. I _think_ he'll be back, ma'am,
and I'll keep the book for you.

Hel. Thank you. (Turns to go. Sees letter on the floor and
picks it up) Why, 'tis ... he dropped it! I wonder if I
may ... he is suffering ... that shabby coat ... and he is
so proud. I think I ought to read it. I must know where to
find him. (Looks at letter) Fordham! (Reads)

My Dear Son: One last prayer the mother of your
Virginia makes to you. She is dying. Come and sit by
her and she will carry a smile to her grave. Do not
stay away because you can not bear to witness her
suffering,--because you have nothing to give her.
Come, and by your loving presence lessen her pain.
God bless you! Your devoted mother,
MARIA CLEMM.

(Helen stands trembling and holding the letter) ...
And I hurt him ... I hurt him....

(CURTAIN)

Scene II: Poe's cottage, Fordham. A room almost bare. Virginia
sleeping on bed. Poe's cloak over her. Mrs. Clemm kneeling in
prayer beside her. Poe enters, carrying a bundle of broken sticks
which he lays down softly, one by one, on the hearth, looking
anxiously toward the bed. Mrs. Clemm rises and comes to the fire)

Mrs. C. My child, you have been out in the snow without your
cloak! (Brushes snow from his shoulders)

Poe. Could I take the least warmth from yon shivering angel?

Mrs. C. You forget that you, too, are ill. O, my boy, be careful,
or I shall soon be childless in the world. One is already
lost..