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Enter Doctor.
[Hurries to meet him.]
Say! say! How?
The Doctor.
She stands before <g>her</g> Maker now.
Brand.
Dead!—But repentant?
The Doctor.
Scarcely so;
She hugg'd Earth's goods with all her heart
Till the Hour struck, and they must part.
Brand.
[Looking straight before him in deep emotion.]
Is here an erring soul undone?
The Doctor.
She will be mildly judged, maybe;—
And Law temper'd with equity,
Brand.
[In a low tone.]
What said she?
The Doctor.
Low she mutter'd: <g>He</g>
Is no hard dealer, like my son.
Brand.
[Sinking in anguish upon the bench]
Guilt-wrung or dying, still that lie
That every soul is ruin'd by!
[Hides his face in his hands.
