nsider the slightest
expression of thanks on your part as an insult, which could have no
other meaning than this: "Marwood, I thought you a base deceiver; I am
thankful that you have not wished to be so towards me at least."

MELLEFONT.

Enough, Madam, enough! I fly, since my unlucky destiny threatens to
involve me in a contest of generosity, in which I should be most
unwilling to succumb.

MARWOOD.

Fly, then! But take everything with you that could remind me of you.
Poor, despised, without honour, and without friends, I will then
venture again to awaken your pity. I will show you in the unfortunate
Marwood only a miserable woman, who has sacrificed to you her person,
her honour, her virtue, and her conscience. I will remind you of the
first day, when you saw and loved me; of the first, stammering, bashful
confession of your love, which you made me at my feet; of the first
assurance of my return of your love, which you forced from me; of the
tender looks, of the passionate embraces, which followed, of the
eloquent silence, when each with busy mind divined the other's most
secret feelings, and read the most hidden thoughts of the soul in the
languishing eye; of the trembling expectation of approaching
gratification; of the intoxication of its joys; of the sweet relaxation
after the fulness of enjoyment, in which the exhausted spirits regained
strength for fresh delights. I shall remind you of all this, and then
embrace your knees, and entreat without ceasing for the only gift,
which you cannot deny me, and which I can accept without blushing--for
death from your hand.

MELLEFONT.

Cruel one! I would still give even my life for you. Ask it, ask it,
only do not any longer claim my love. I must leave you, Marwood, or
make myself an object of loathing to the whole world. I am culpable
already in that I only stand here and listen to you. Farewell,
farewell!

MARWOOD (_holding him back_).

You must leave me? And what, then, do you wish, shall become of me? As
I am now, I am your creature; do, then, what becomes a creator; he may
not withdraw his hand from the work until he wishes to destroy it
utterly. Alas, Hannah, I see now, my entreaties alone are too feeble.
Go, bring my intercessor, who will now, perhaps, return to me more than
she ever received from me. (_Exit_ Hannah).