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Mis' Beelah, did I understan' you to say--they ain'--no Devil?
MRS. BEELER.
_Touching her breast._
Only here, Uncle Abe.
_The old negro stares at her and Rhoda, and goes into the kitchen, feeling his own breast and shaking his head dubiously. Mrs. Beeler looks at the picture._
Do you think your Uncle Mat would mind if we took that picture down?
_Rhoda unpins the picture from the wall, rolls it up, and lays it on the bookshelf. Her aunt goes on, hesitatingly._
Do you know, Rhoda, I have sometimes thought--You won't be hurt?
RHODA.
No.
MRS. BEELER.
I--I know what that old negro says is all foolishness, but--there _is_ something the matter with Mr. Michaelis. Have you noticed?
RHODA.
_Avoiding her aunt's gaze._
Yes.
MRS. BEELER.
Just when his great work is about to begin!--What do you think it can be?
RHODA.
How should I know, Aunt Mary?
MRS. BEELER.
I thought maybe--Rhoda, I have seen him look at you so strangely!
Like--like the Pilgrim in the picture, when he hears that heathen creature playing on the pipe.--You are such a wild creature, or you used to be.
_Rhoda comes to her aunt and stands a moment in silence._
RHODA.
Auntie.
MRS. BEELER.
Yes?
RHODA.
I think I ought to go away.
MRS. BEELER.
_Astonished._
Go away? Why?
RHODA.
So as not to--hinder him.
MRS. BEELER.
_Caressing her._
There, you have taken what I said too seriously. It was only a sick woman's imagination.
RHODA.
No, it was the truth. You see it, though you try not to. Even Uncle Abe sees it. Just when Mr. Michaelis most needs his strength, weakness has come upon him.
MRS. BEELER.
You mean--?
_She hesitates._
You mean--because of you?--Rhoda, look at me.
_Rhoda avoids her aunt's gaze; Mrs. Beeler draws down the girl's face and gazes at it._
Is there anything--that I don't know--between you and him?
RHODA.
I--I must go away.--I ought to have gone before.
MRS. BEELER.
My child, this--this troubles me very much. He is different from other men, and you--and you--
RHODA.
