Mrs. Denham monologue — The Black Cat: A Play in Three Acts

(_listens for a while, then starts up_) He had tears in his eyes when he kissed me. Poor Arthur! he thinks we are going to patch it up, I suppose. I am to live on pity--a man's pity, more akin to contempt than to love. Why _should_ he love me? I was not born to be loved, not made to be loved. And yet I wanted love so much. I wanted all or nothing, and I have got pity--pity that puts you in a madhouse, and comfortably leaves you to rot! Oh, my God! is this madness--this horror of darkness that seems pressing on my brain? (_A knock at the door._) What's that? Come in! (_Enter Jane with tea._) No, not there, Jane--the small table; and bring another cup, will you?