(MRS.
HO appears on a windswept street.
Crumpled newspapers and broken
umbrellas blow by. MRS. HO carries her grandson, whom she
shields from the
wind. All is
white and blackish.)
MRS. HO
Where is my son?
Where is my Westward?
Come back to me, son!
Come toward me, O Westward!
(A
blown twig slaps her in her face.)
(Elsewhere,
WESTWARD HO watches from his crystal ball. He laughs, then
feels bad.)
END
OF “ARIA FOR WESTWARD.”
