Christmas Eve in the Manse. The room is dark. Garden-door in the background; a window on one side, a door on the other. Agnes, in mourning, stands at the window and gazes out into the darkness.
Agnes.
Still he comes not! Comes not yet!—
Oh, how hard, with gloom beset,—
Still to wait and still to cry,—
Winning never a reply,—
Fast they fall, the softly sifted
Snowflakes; in a shroud-like woof
They have swathed the old church roof
[Listens.]
Hark! the garden-latch is lifted! Steps! A man's step, firm and fast!
[Hurries to the door and opens it.]
Is it thou? Come home! At last!
Brand comes in, snowy, in travelling dress, which he removes during what follows.
Agnes
[Throwing her arms about him.]
Oh, how long thou wast away!
Go not from me, go not from me;
All alone I cannot sway
