This page needs to be proofread.
Agnes.
No summons, no
Brand.
[Looking back into the house.]
His parch'd skin burns in fever-glow;
His temples throb, his pulses race!
Oh fear not, Agnes!
Agnes.
God of grace
Brand.
Nay, have no fear
[Calls out over the road.]
The summons, see.
A Man.
[Through the garden-gate.]
You must come <g>now</g>, priest!
Brand.
Instantly!
What message?
The Man.
A mysterious one.
Sitting in bed she forward bent,
And said: "Get the priest here: begone!
My half-goods for the sacrament."
Brand.
[Starts back.]
Her <g>half</g>-goods! No! Say no!
