cloak
Wraps his whole form; even his face is hid;
But I should judge him young: no hind, be sure!

TRESHAM. Why?

GERARD. He is ever armed: his sword projects
Beneath the cloak.

TRESHAM. Gerard,--I will not say
No word, no breath of this!

GERARD. Thank, thanks, my lord!
[Goes.]

TRESHAM [paces the room. After a pause].
Oh, thoughts absurd!--as with some monstrous fact
Which, when ill thoughts beset us, seems to give
Merciful God that made the sun and stars,
The waters and the green delights of earth,
The lie! I apprehend the monstrous fact--
Yet know the maker of all worlds is good,
And yield my reason up, inadequate
To reconcile what yet I do behold--
Blasting my sense! There's cheerful day outside:
This is my library, and this the chair
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?

GUENDOLEN. Pleasant question! more?
This more. Did I besiege poor Mildred's brain
Last night till close on morning with "the Earl,"
"The Earl"--whose worth did I asseverate
Till I am very fain to hope that... Thorold,
What is all this? You are not well!

TRESHAM. Who, I?
You laugh at me.

GUENDOLEN. Has what I'm fain