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diff --git a/2915.txt b/2915.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..3c8a9d9 --- /dev/null +++ b/2915.txt @@ -0,0 +1,3221 @@ + + Project Gutenberg's A Bit O' Love (Fourth Series Plays), by John Galsworthy + + This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with + almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or + re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included + with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + + Title: A Bit O' Love (Fourth Series Plays) + + Author: John Galsworthy + + Release Date: September 26, 2004 [EBook #2915] + + Language: English + + Character set encoding: ASCII + + *** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A BIT O' LOVE (FOURTH SERIES *** + + + + + Produced by David Widger + + + +PLAYS IN THE FOURTH SERIES + + +A BIT O' LOVE + +By John Galsworthy + + + +PERSONS OF THE PLAY + + MICHAEL STRANGWAY + BEATRICE STRANGWAY + MRS. BRADMERE + JIM BERE + JACK CREMER + MRS. BURLACOMBE + BURLACOMBE + TRUSTAFORD + JARLAND + CLYST + FREMAN + GODLEIGH + SOL POTTER + MORSE, AND OTHERS + IVY BURLACOMBE + CONNIE TRUSTAFORD + GLADYS FREMAN + MERCY JARLAND + TIBBY JARLAND + BOBBIE JARLAND + + + + + SCENE: A VILLAGE OF THE WEST + + The Action passes on Ascension Day. + + ACT I. STRANGWAY'S rooms at BURLACOMBE'S. Morning. + + ACT II. Evening + + SCENE I. The Village Inn. + SCENE II. The same. + SCENE III. Outside the church. + + ACT III. Evening + + SCENE I. STRANGWAY'S rooms. + SCENE II. BURLACOMBE'S barn. + + + + +A BIT O' LOVE + + + + +ACT I + + It is Ascension Day in a village of the West. In the low + panelled hall-sittingroom of the BURLACOMBE'S farmhouse on the + village green, MICHAEL STRANGWAY, a clerical collar round his + throat and a dark Norfolk jacket on his back, is playing the + flute before a very large framed photograph of a woman, which is + the only picture on the walls. His age is about thirty-five his + figure thin and very upright and his clean-shorn face thin, + upright, narrow, with long and rather pointed ears; his dark + hair is brushed in a coxcomb off his forehead. A faint smile + hovers about his lips that Nature has made rather full and he + has made thin, as though keeping a hard secret; but his bright + grey eyes, dark round the rim, look out and upwards almost as if + he were being crucified. There is something about the whole of + him that makes him seen not quite present. A gentle creature, + burnt within. + + A low broad window above a window-seat forms the background to + his figure; and through its lattice panes are seen the outer + gate and yew-trees of a churchyard and the porch of a church, + bathed in May sunlight. The front door at right angles to the + window-seat, leads to the village green, and a door on the left + into the house. + + It is the third movement of Veracini's violin sonata that + STRANGWAY plays. His back is turned to the door into the house, + and he does not hear when it is opened, and IVY BURLACOMBE, the + farmer's daughter, a girl of fourteen, small and quiet as a + mouse, comes in, a prayer-book in one hand, and in the other a + gloss of water, with wild orchis and a bit of deep pink + hawthorn. She sits down on the window-seat, and having opened + her book, sniffs at the flowers. Coming to the end of the + movement STRANGWAY stops, and looking up at the face on the + wall, heaves a long sigh. + +IVY. [From the seat] I picked these for yu, Mr. Strangway. + +STRANGWAY. [Turning with a start] Ah! Ivy. Thank you. [He puts +his flute down on a chair against the far wall] Where are the +others? + + As he speaks, GLADYS FREMAN, a dark gipsyish girl, and CONNIE + TRUSTAFORD, a fair, stolid, blue-eyed Saxon, both about sixteen, + come in through the front door, behind which they have evidently + been listening. They too have prayer-books in their hands. + They sidle past Ivy, and also sit down under the window. + +GLADYS. Mercy's comin', Mr. Strangway. + +STRANGWAY. Good morning, Gladys; good morning, Connie. + + He turns to a book-case on a table against the far wall, and + taking out a book, finds his place in it. While he stands thus + with his back to the girls, MERCY JARLAND comes in from the + green. She also is about sixteen, with fair hair and china-blue + eyes. She glides in quickly, hiding something behind her, and + sits down on the seat next the door. And at once there is a + whispering. + +STRANGWAY. [Turning to them] Good morning, Mercy. + +MERCY. Good morning, Mr. Strangway. + +STRANGWAY. Now, yesterday I was telling you what our Lord's coming +meant to the world. I want you to understand that before He came +there wasn't really love, as we know it. I don't mean to say that +there weren't many good people; but there wasn't love for the sake of +loving. D'you think you understand what I mean? + + MERCY fidgets. GLADYS'S eyes are following a fly. + +IVY. Yes, Mr. Strangway. + +STRANGWAY. It isn't enough to love people because they're good to +you, or because in some way or other you're going to get something by +it. We have to love because we love loving. That's the great thing +--without that we're nothing but Pagans. + +GLADYS. Please, what is Pagans? + +STRANGWAY. That's what the first Christians called the people who +lived in the villages and were not yet Christians, Gladys. + +MERCY. We live in a village, but we're Christians. + +STRANGWAY. [With a smile] Yes, Mercy; and what is a Christian? + + MERCY kicks afoot, sideways against her neighbour, frowns over + her china-blare eyes, is silent; then, as his question passes + on, makes a quick little face, wriggles, and looks behind her. + +STRANGWAY. Ivy? + +IVY. 'Tis a man--whu--whu---- + +STRANGWAY. Yes?--Connie? + +CONNIE. [Who speaks rather thickly, as if she had a permanent slight +cold] Please, Mr. Strangway, 'tis a man what goes to church. + +GLADYS. He 'as to be baptised--and confirmed; and--and--buried. + +IVY. 'Tis a man whu--whu's gude and---- + +GLADYS. He don't drink, an' he don't beat his horses, an' he don't +hit back. + +MERCY. [Whispering] 'Tisn't your turn. [To STRANGWAY] 'Tis a man +like us. + +IVY. I know what Mrs. Strangway said it was, 'cause I asked her +once, before she went away. + +STRANGWAY. [Startled] Yes? + +IVY. She said it was a man whu forgave everything. + +STRANGWAY. Ah! + + The note of a cuckoo comes travelling. The girls are gazing at + STRANGWAY, who seems to have gone of into a dream. They begin + to fidget and whisper. + +CONNIE. Please, Mr. Strangway, father says if yu hit a man and he +don't hit yu back, he's no gude at all. + +MERCY. When Tommy Morse wouldn't fight, us pinched him--he did +squeal! [She giggles] Made me laugh! + +STRANGWAY. Did I ever tell you about St. Francis of Assisi? + +IVY. [Clasping her hands] No. + +STRANGWAY. Well, he was the best Christian, I think, that ever +lived--simply full of love and joy. + +IVY. I expect he's dead. + +STRANGWAY. About seven hundred years, Ivy. + +IVY. [Softly] Oh! + +STRANGWAY. Everything to him was brother or sister--the sun and the +moon, and all that was poor and weak and sad, and animals and birds, +so that they even used to follow him about. + +MERCY. I know! He had crumbs in his pocket. + +STRANGWAY. No; he had love in his eyes. + +IVY. 'Tis like about Orpheus, that yu told us. + +STRANGWAY. Ah! But St. Francis was a Christian, and Orpheus was a +Pagan. + +IVY. Oh! + +STRANGWAY. Orpheus drew everything after him with music; St. +Francis by love. + +IVY. Perhaps it was the same, really. + +STRANGWAY. [looking at his flute] Perhaps it was, Ivy. + +GLADYS. Did 'e 'ave a flute like yu? + +IVY. The flowers smell sweeter when they 'ear music; they du. + + [She holds up the glass of flowers.] + +STRANGWAY. [Touching one of the orchis] What's the name of this +one? + + [The girls cluster; save MERCY, who is taking a stealthy + interest in what she has behind her.] + +CONNIE. We call it a cuckoo, Mr. Strangway. + +GLADYS. 'Tis awful common down by the streams. We've got one medder +where 'tis so thick almost as the goldie cups. + +STRANGWAY. Odd! I've never noticed it. + +IVY. Please, Mr. Strangway, yu don't notice when yu're walkin'; yu +go along like this. + + [She holds up her face as one looking at the sky.] + +STRANGWAY. Bad as that, Ivy? + +IVY. Mrs. Strangway often used to pick it last spring. + +STRANGWAY. Did she? Did she? + + [He has gone off again into a kind of dream.] + +MERCY. I like being confirmed. + +STRANGWAY. Ah! Yes. Now----What's that behind you, Mercy? + +MERCY. [Engagingly producing a cage a little bigger than a +mouse-trap, containing a skylark] My skylark. + +STRANGWAY. What! + +MERCY. It can fly; but we're goin' to clip its wings. Bobbie caught +it. + +STRANGWAY. How long ago? + +MERCY. [Conscious of impending disaster] Yesterday. + +STRANGWAY. [White hot] Give me the cage! + +MERCY. [Puckering] I want my skylark. [As he steps up to her and +takes the cage--thoroughly alarmed] I gave Bobbie thrippence for it! + +STRANGWAY. [Producing a sixpence] There! + +MERCY. [Throwing it down-passionately] I want my skylark! + +STRANGWAY. God made this poor bird for the sky and the grass. And +you put it in that! Never cage any wild thing! Never! + +MERCY. [Faint and sullen] I want my skylark. + +STRANGWAY. [Taking the cage to the door] No! [He holds up the cage +and opens it] Off you go, poor thing! + + [The bird flies out and away. The girls watch with round eyes + the fling up of his arm, and the freed bird flying away.] + +IVY. I'm glad! + + [MERCY kicks her viciously and sobs. STRANGWAY comes from the + door, looks at MERCY sobbing, and suddenly clasps his head. The + girls watch him with a queer mixture of wonder, alarm, and + disapproval.] + +GLADYS. [Whispering] Don't cry, Mercy. Bobbie'll soon catch yu +another. + + [STRANGWAY has dropped his hands, and is looking again at MERCY. + IVY sits with hands clasped, gazing at STRANGWAY. MERCY + continues her artificial sobbing.] + +STRANGWAY. [Quietly] The class is over for to-day. + + [He goes up to MERCY, and holds out his hand. She does not take + it, and runs out knuckling her eyes. STRANGWAY turns on his + heel and goes into the house.] + +CONNIE. 'Twasn't his bird. + +IVY. Skylarks belong to the sky. Mr. Strangway said so. + +GLADYS. Not when they'm caught, they don't. + +IVY. They du. + +CONNIE. 'Twas her bird. + +IVY. He gave her sixpence for it. + +GLADYS. She didn't take it. + +CONNIE. There it is on the ground. + +IVY. She might have. + +GLADYS. He'll p'raps take my squirrel, tu. + +IVY. The bird sang--I 'eard it! Right up in the sky. It wouldn't +have sanged if it weren't glad. + +GLADYS. Well, Mercy cried. + +IVY. I don't care. + +GLADYS. 'Tis a shame! And I know something. Mrs. Strangway's at +Durford. + +CONNIE. She's--never! + +GLADYS. I saw her yesterday. An' if she's there she ought to be +here. I told mother, an' she said: "Yu mind yer business." An' when +she goes in to market to-morrow she'm goin' to see. An' if she's +really there, mother says, 'tis a fine tu-du an' a praaper scandal. +So I know a lot more'n yu du. + + [Ivy stares at her.] + +CONNIE. Mrs. Strangway told mother she was goin' to France for the +winter because her mother was ill. + +GLADYS. 'Tisn't, winter now--Ascension Day. I saw her cumin' out o' +Dr. Desert's house. I know 'twas her because she had on a blue dress +an' a proud luke. Mother says the doctor come over here tu often +before Mrs. Strangway went away, just afore Christmas. They was old +sweethearts before she married Mr. Strangway. [To Ivy] 'Twas yure +mother told mother that. + + [Ivy gazes at them more and more wide-eyed.] + +CONNIE. Father says if Mrs. Bradmere an' the old Rector knew about +the doctor, they wouldn't 'ave Mr. Strangway 'ere for curate any +longer; because mother says it takes more'n a year for a gude wife to +leave her 'usband, an' 'e so fond of her. But 'tisn't no business of +ours, father says. + +GLADYS. Mother says so tu. She's praaper set against gossip. +She'll know all about it to-morrow after market. + +IVY. [Stamping her foot] I don't want to 'ear nothin' at all; I +don't, an' I won't. + + [A rather shame faced silence falls on the girls.] + +GLADYS. [In a quick whisper] 'Ere's Mrs. Burlacombe. + + [There enters fawn the house a stout motherly woman with a round + grey eye and very red cheeks.] + +MRS. BURLACOMBE. Ivy, take Mr. Strangway his ink, or we'll never +'eve no sermon to-night. He'm in his thinkin' box, but 'tis not a +bit o' yuse 'im thinkin' without 'is ink. [She hands her daughter an +inkpot and blotting-pad. Ivy Takes them and goes out] What ever's +this? [She picks up the little bird-cage.] + +GLADYS. 'Tis Mercy Jarland's. Mr. Strangway let her skylark go. + +MRS. BURLACOMBE. Aw! Did 'e now? Serve 'er right, bringin' an +'eathen bird to confirmation class. + +CONNIE. I'll take it to her. + +MRS. BURLACOMBE. No. Yu leave it there, an' let Mr. Strangway du +what 'e likes with it. Bringin' a bird like that! Well 'I never! + + [The girls, perceiving that they have lighted on stony soil, + look at each other and slide towards the door.] + +MRS. BURLACOMBE. Yes, yu just be off, an' think on what yu've been +told in class, an' be'ave like Christians, that's gude maids. An' +don't yu come no more in the 'avenin's dancin' them 'eathen dances in +my barn, naighther, till after yu'm confirmed--'tisn't right. I've +told Ivy I won't 'ave it. + +CONNIE. Mr. Strangway don't mind--he likes us to; 'twas Mrs. +Strangway began teachin' us. He's goin' to give a prize. + +MRS. BURLACOMBE. Yu just du what I tell yu an' never mind Mr. +Strangway--he'm tu kind to everyone. D'yu think I don't know how +gells oughter be'ave before confirmation? Yu be'ave like I did! +Now, goo ahn! Shoo! + + [She hustles them out, rather as she might hustle her chickens, + and begins tidying the room. There comes a wandering figure to + the open window. It is that of a man of about thirty-five, of + feeble gait, leaning the weight of all one side of him on a + stick. His dark face, with black hair, one lock of which has + gone white, was evidently once that of an ardent man. Now it is + slack, weakly smiling, and the brown eyes are lost, and seem + always to be asking something to which there is no answer.] + +MRS. BURLACOMBE. [With that forced cheerfulness always assumed in +the face of too great misfortune] Well, Jim! better? [At the faint +brightening of the smile] That's right! Yu'm gettin' on bravely. +Want Parson? + +JIM. [Nodding and smiling, and speaking slowly] I want to tell 'un +about my cat. + + [His face loses its smile.] + +MRS. BURLACOMBE. Why! what's she been duin' then? Mr. Strangway's +busy. Won't I du? + +JIM. [Shaking his head] No. I want to tell him. + +MRS. BURLACOMBE. Whatever she been duin'? Havin' kittens? + +JIM. No. She'm lost. + +MRS. BURLACOMBE. Dearie me! Aw! she'm not lost. Cats be like +maids; they must get out a bit. + +JIM. She'm lost. Maybe he'll know where she'll be. + +MRS. BURLACOMBE. Well, well. I'll go an' find 'im. + +JIM. He's a gude man. He's very gude. + +MRS. BURLACOMBE. That's certain zure. + +STRANGWAY. [Entering from the house] Mrs. Burlacombe, I can't think +where I've put my book on St. Francis--the large, squarish pale-blue +one? + +MRS. BURLACOMBE. Aw! there now! I knu there was somethin' on me +mind. Miss Willis she came in yesterday afternune when yu was out, +to borrow it. Oh! yes--I said--I'm zure Mr. Strangway'll lend it +'ee. Now think o' that! + +STRANGWAY. Of course, Mrs. Burlacombe; very glad she's got it. + +MRS. BURLACOMBE. Aw! but that's not all. When I tuk it up there +come out a whole flutter o' little bits o' paper wi' little rhymes on +'em, same as I see yu writin'. Aw! my gudeness! I says to meself, +Mr. Strangway widn' want no one seein' them. + +STRANGWAY. Dear me! No; certainly not! + +MRS. BURLACOMBE. An' so I putt 'em in your secretary. + +STRANGWAY. My-ah! Yes. Thank you; yes. + +MRS. BURLACOMBE. But I'll goo over an' get the buke for yu. +'T won't take me 'alf a minit. + + [She goes out on to the green. JIM BERE has come in.] + +STRANGWAY. [Gently] Well, Jim? + +JIM. My cat's lost. + +STRANGWAY. Lost? + +JIM. Day before yesterday. She'm not come back. They've shot 'er, +I think; or she'm caught in one o' they rabbit-traps. + +STRANGWAY. Oh! no; my dear fellow, she'll come back. I'll speak to +Sir Herbert's keepers. + +JIM. Yes, zurr. I feel lonesome without 'er. + +STRANGWAY. [With a faint smile--more to himself than to Jim] +Lonesome! Yes! That's bad, Jim! That's bad! + +JIM. I miss 'er when I sits than in the avenin'. + +STRANGWAY. The evenings----They're the worst----and when the +blackbirds sing in the morning. + +JIM. She used to lie on my bed, ye know, zurr. + + [STRANGWAY turns his face away, contracted with pain] + +She'm like a Christian. + +STRANGWAY. The beasts are. + +JIM. There's plenty folk ain't 'alf as Christian as 'er be. + +STRANGWAY. Well, dear Jim, I'll do my very best. And any time +you're lonely, come up, and I'll play the flute to you. + +JIM. [Wriggling slightly] No, zurr. Thank 'ee, zurr. + +STRANGWAY. What--don't you like music? + +JIM. Ye-es, zurr. [A figure passes the window. Seeing it he says +with his slow smile] "'Ere's Mrs. Bradmere, comin' from the Rectory." +[With queer malice] She don't like cats. But she'm a cat 'erself, I +think. + +STRANGWAY. [With his smile] Jim! + +JIM. She'm always tellin' me I'm lukin' better. I'm not better, +zurr. + +STRANGWAY. That's her kindness. + +JIM. I don't think it is. 'Tis laziness, an' 'avin' 'er own way. +She'm very fond of 'er own way. + + [A knock on the door cuts off his speech. Following closely on + the knock, as though no doors were licensed to be closed against + her, a grey-haired lady enters; a capable, broad-faced woman of + seventy, whose every tone and movement exhales authority. With + a nod and a "good morning" to STRANGWAY she turns at face to JIM + BERE.] + +MRS. BRADMERE Ah! Jim; you're looking better. + + [JIM BERE shakes his head. MRS. BRADMERE. Oh! yes, you are. + Getting on splendidly. And now, I just want to speak to Mr. + Strangway.] + + [JIM BERE touches his forelock, and slowly, leaning on his + stick, goes out.] + +MRS. BRADMERE. [Waiting for the door to close] You know how that +came on him? Caught the girl he was engaged to, one night, with +another man, the rage broke something here. [She touches her +forehead] Four years ago. + +STRANGWAY. Poor fellow! + +MRS. BRADMERE. [Looking at him sharply] Is your wife back? + +STRANGWAY. [Starting] No. + +MRS. BRADMERE. By the way, poor Mrs. Cremer--is she any better? + +STRANGWAY. No; going fast: Wonderful--so patient. + +MRS. BRADMERE. [With gruff sympathy] Um! Yes. They know how to +die! [Wide another sharp look at him] D'you expect your wife soon? + +STRANGWAY. I I--hope so. + +MRS. BRADMERE: So do I. The sooner the better. + +STRANGWAY. [Shrinking] I trust the Rector's not suffering so much +this morning? + +MRS. BRADMERE. Thank you! His foot's very bad. + + [As she speaks Mrs. BURLACOMBE returns with a large pale-blue + book in her bared.] + +MRS. BURLACOMBE. Good day, M'm! [Taking the book across to +STRANGWAY] Miss Willie, she says she'm very sorry, zurr. + +STRANGWAY. She was very welcome, Mrs. Burlacombe. [To MRS. +BURLACOMBE] Forgive me--my sermon. + + [He goes into the house. The two women graze after him. Then, + at once, as it were, draw into themselves, as if preparing for + an encounter, and yet seem to expand as if losing the need for + restraint.] + +MRS. BRADMERE. [Abruptly] He misses his wife very much, I'm afraid. + +MRS. BURLACOMBE. Ah! Don't he? Poor dear man; he keeps a terrible +tight 'and over 'imself, but 'tis suthin' cruel the way he walks +about at night. He'm just like a cow when its calf's weaned. 'T'as +gone to me 'eart truly to see 'im these months past. T'other day +when I went up to du his rume, I yeard a noise like this [she +sniffs]; an' ther' 'e was at the wardrobe, snuffin' at 'er things. I +did never think a man cud care for a woman so much as that. + +MRS. BRADMERE. H'm! + +MRS. BURLACOMBE. 'Tis funny rest an' 'e comin' 'ere for quiet after +that tearin' great London parish! 'E'm terrible absent-minded tu +--don't take no interest in 'is fude. Yesterday, goin' on for one +o'clock, 'e says to me, "I expect 'tis nearly breakfast-time, Mrs. +Burlacombe!" 'E'd 'ad it twice already! + +MRS. BRADMERE. Twice! Nonsense! + +MRS. BURLACOMBE. Zurely! I give 'im a nummit afore 'e gets up; an' +'e 'as 'is brekjus reg'lar at nine. Must feed un up. He'm on 'is +feet all day, gain' to zee folk that widden want to zee an angel, +they're that busy; an' when 'e comes in 'e'll play 'is flute there. +Hem wastin' away for want of 'is wife. That's what 'tis. An' 'im so +sweet-spoken, tu, 'tes a pleasure to year 'im--Never says a word! + +MRS. BRADMERE. Yes, that's the kind of man who gets treated badly. +I'm afraid she's not worthy of him, Mrs. Burlacombe. + +MRS. BURLACOMBE. [Plaiting her apron] 'Tesn't for me to zay that. +She'm a very pleasant lady. + +MRS. BRADMERE Too pleasant. What's this story about her being seen +in Durford? + +MRS. BURLACOMBE. Aw! I du never year no gossip, m'm. + +MRS. BRADMERE. [Drily] Of course not! But you see the Rector +wishes to know. + +MRS. BURLACOMBE. [Flustered] Well--folk will talk! But, as I says +to Burlacombe--"'Tes paltry," I says; and they only married eighteen +months, and Mr. Strangway so devoted-like. 'Tes nothing but love, +with 'im. + +MRS. BRADMERE. Come! + +MRS. BURLACOMBE. There's puzzivantin' folk as'll set an' gossip the +feathers off an angel. But I du never listen. + +MRS. BRADMERE Now then, Mrs. Burlacombe? + +MRS. BURLACOMBE. Well, they du say as how Dr. Desart over to Durford +and Mrs. Strangway was sweethearts afore she wer' married. + +MRS. BRADMERE. I knew that. Who was it saw her coming out of Dr. +Desart's house yesterday? + +MRS. BURLACOMBE. In a manner of spakin' 'tes Mrs. Freman that says +'er Gladys seen her. + +MRS. BRADMERE. That child's got an eye like a hawk. + +MRS. BURLACOMBE. 'Tes wonderful how things du spread. 'Tesn't as if +us gossiped. Du seem to grow-like in the naight. + +MRS. BRADMERE [To herself] I never lied her. That Riviera excuse, +Mrs. Burlacombe--Very convenient things, sick mothers. Mr. +Strangway doesn't know? + +MRS. BURLACOMBE. The Lord forbid! 'Twid send un crazy, I think. +For all he'm so moony an' gentlelike, I think he'm a terrible +passionate man inside. He've a-got a saint in 'im, for zure; but +'tes only 'alf-baked, in a manner of spakin'. + +MRS. BRADMERE. I shall go and see Mrs. Freman. There's been too +much of this gossip all the winter. + +MRS. BURLACOMBE. 'Tes unfortunate-like 'tes the Fremans. Freman +he'm a gipsy sort of a feller; and he've never forgiven Mr. Strangway +for spakin' to 'im about the way he trates 'is 'orses. + +MRS. BRADMERE. Ah! I'm afraid Mr. Strangway's not too discreet when +his feelings are touched. + +MRS. BURLACOMBE. 'E've a-got an 'eart so big as the full mune. But +'tes no yuse espectin' tu much o' this world. 'Tes a funny place, +after that. + +MRS. BRADMERE. Yes, Mrs. Burlacombe; and I shall give some of these +good people a rare rap over the knuckles for their want of charity. +For all they look as if butter wouldn't melt in their mouths, they're +an un-Christian lot. [Looking very directly at Mrs. BURLACOMBE] +It's lucky we've some hold over the village. I'm not going to have +scandal. I shall speak to Sir Herbert, and he and the Rector will +take steps. + +MRS. BURLACOMBE. [With covert malice] Aw! I du hope 'twon't upset +the Rector, an' 'is fute so poptious! + +MRS. BRADMERE. [Grimly] His foot'll be sound enough to come down +sharp. By the way, will you send me a duck up to the Rectory? + +MRS. BURLACOMBE. [Glad to get away] Zurely, m'm; at once. I've +some luv'ly fat birds. + + [She goes into the house.] + +MRS. BRADMERE. Old puss-cat! + + [She turns to go, and in the doorway encounters a very little, + red-cheeked girl in a peacock-blue cap, and pink frock, who + curtsies stolidly.] + +MRS. BRADMERE. Well, Tibby Jarland, what do you want here? Always +sucking something, aren't you? + + [Getting no reply from Tibby JARLAND, she passes out. Tibby + comes in, looks round, takes a large sweet out of her mouth, + contemplates it, and puts it back again. Then, in a perfunctory + and very stolid fashion, she looks about the floor, as if she + had been told to find something. While she is finding nothing + and sucking her sweet, her sister MERCY comes in furtively, + still frowning and vindictive.] + +MERCY. What! Haven't you found it, Tibby? Get along with 'ee, +then! + + [She accelerates the stolid Tissy's departure with a smack, + searches under the seat, finds and picks up the deserted + sixpence. Then very quickly she goes to the door: But it is + opened before she reaches it, and, finding herself caught, she + slips behind the chintz window-curtain. A woman has entered, + who is clearly the original of the large photograph. She is not + strictly pretty, but there is charm in her pale, resolute face, + with its mocking lips, flexible brows, and greenish eyes, whose + lids, square above them, have short, dark lashes. She is + dressed in blue, and her fair hair is coiled up under a cap and + motor-veil. She comes in swiftly, and closes the door behind + her; becomes irresolute; then, suddenly deciding, moves towards + the door into the house. MERCY slips from behind her curtain to + make off, but at that moment the door into the house is opened, + and she has at once to slip back again into covert. It is Ivy + who has appeared.] + +IVY. [Amazed] Oh! Mrs. Strangway! + + [Evidently disconcerted by this appearance, BEATRICE STRANGWAY + pulls herself together and confronts the child with a smile.] + +BEATRICE. Well, Ivy--you've grown! You didn't expect me, did you? + +IVY. No, Mrs. Strangway; but I hoped yu'd be comin' soon. + +BEATRICE. Ah! Yes. Is Mr. Strangway in? + +IVY. [Hypnotized by those faintly smiling lips] Yes--oh, yes! He's +writin' his sermon in the little room. He will be glad! + +BEATRICE. [Going a little closer, and never taking her eyes off the +child] Yes. Now, Ivy; will you do something for me? + +IVY. [Fluttering] Oh, yes, Mrs. Strangway. + +BEATRICE. Quite sure? + +IVY. Oh, yes! + +BEATRICE. Are you old enough to keep a secret? + +IVY. [Nodding] I'm fourteen now. + +BEATRICE. Well, then--, I don't want anybody but Mr. Strangway to +know I've been here; nobody, not even your mother. D'you understand? + +IVY. [Troubled] No. Only, I can keep a secret. + +BEATRICE. Mind, if anybody hears, it will hurt Mr. Strangway. + +IVY. Oh! I wouldn't--hurt--him. Must yu go away again? [Trembling +towards her] I wish yu wer goin' to stay. And perhaps some one has +seen yu--They---- + +BEATRICE. [Hastily] No, no one. I came motoring; like this. [She +moves her veil to show how it can conceal her face] And I came +straight down the little lane, and through the barn, across the yard. + +IVY. [Timidly] People du see a lot. + +BEATRICE. [Still with that hovering smile] I know, but----Now go +and tell him quickly and quietly. + +IVY. [Stopping at the door] Mother's pluckin' a duck. Only, +please, Mrs. Strangway, if she comes in even after yu've gone, she'll +know, because--because yu always have that particular nice scent. + +BEATRICE. Thank you, my child. I'll see to that. + + [Ivy looks at her as if she would speak again, then turns + suddenly, and goes out. BEATRICE'S face darkens; she shivers. + Taking out a little cigarette case, she lights a cigarette, and + watches the puff's of smoke wreathe shout her and die away. The + frightened MERCY peers out, spying for a chance, to escape. + Then from the house STRANGWAY comes in. All his dreaminess is + gone.] + +STRANGWAY. Thank God! [He stops at the look on her face] I don't +understand, though. I thought you were still out there. + +BEATRICE. [Letting her cigarette fall, and putting her foot on it] +No. + +STRANGWAY: You're staying? Oh! Beatrice; come! We'll get away from +here at once--as far, as far--anywhere you like. Oh! my darling +--only come! If you knew---- + +BEATRICE. It's no good, Michael; I've tried and tried. + +STRANGWAY. Not! Then, why--? Beatrice! You said, when you were +right away--I've waited---- + +BEATRICE. I know. It's cruel--it's horrible. But I told you not to +hope, Michael. I've done my best. All these months at Mentone, I've +been wondering why I ever let you marry me--when that feeling wasn't +dead! + +STRANGWAY. You can't have come back just to leave me again? + +BEATRICE. When you let me go out there with mother I thought--I did +think I would be able; and I had begun--and then--spring came! + +STRANGWAY. Spring came here too! Never so--aching! Beatrice, can't +you? + +BEATRICE. I've something to say. + +STRANGWAY. No! No! No! + +BEATRICE. You see--I've--fallen. + +STRANGWAY. Ah! [In a twice sharpened by pain] Why, in the name of +mercy, come here to tell me that? Was he out there, then? + +BEATRICE. I came straight back to him. + +STRANGWAY. To Durford? + +BEATRICE. To the Crossway Hotel, miles out--in my own name. They +don't know me there. I told you not to hope, Michael. I've done my +best; I swear it. + +STRANGWAY. My God! + +BEATRICE. It was your God that brought us to live near him! + +STRANGWAY. Why have you come to me like this? + +BEATRICE. To know what you're going to do. Are you going to divorce +me? We're in your power. Don't divorce me--Doctor and patient--you +must know--it ruins him. He'll lose everything. He'd be +disqualified, and he hasn't a penny without his work. + +STRANGWAY. Why should I spare him? + +BEATRICE. Michael; I came to beg. It's hard. + +STRANGWAY. No; don't beg! I can't stand it. + + [She shakes her head.] + +BEATRICE. [Recovering her pride] What are you going to do, then? +Keep us apart by the threat of a divorce? Starve us and prison us? +Cage me up here with you? I'm not brute enough to ruin him. + +STRANGWAY. Heaven! + +BEATRICE. I never really stopped loving him. I never--loved you, +Michael. + +STRANGWAY. [Stunned] Is that true? [BEATRICE bends her head] +Never loved me? Not--that night--on the river--not----? + +BEATRICE. [Under her breath] No. + +STRANGWAY. Were you lying to me, then? Kissing me, and--hating me? + +BEATRICE. One doesn't hate men like you; but it wasn't love. + +STRANGWAY. Why did you tell me it was? + +BEATRICE. Yes. That was the worst thing I've ever done. + +STRANGWAY. Do you think I would have married you? I would have +burned first! I never dreamed you didn't. I swear it! + +BEATRICE. [Very low] Forget it! + +STRANGWAY. Did he try to get you away from me? [BEATRICE gives him +a swift look] Tell me the truth! + +BEATRICE. No. It was--I--alone. But--he loves me. + +STRANGWAY. One does not easily know love, it seems. + + [But her smile, faint, mysterious, pitying, is enough, and he + turns away from her.] + +BEATRICE. It was cruel to come, I know. For me, too. But I +couldn't write. I had to know. + +STRANGWAY. Never loved me? Never loved me? That night at Tregaron? +[At the look on her face] You might have told me before you went +away! Why keep me all these---- + +BEATRICE. I meant to forget him again. I did mean to. I thought I +could get back to what I was, when I married you; but, you see, what +a girl can do, a woman that's been married--can't. + +STRANGWAY. Then it was I--my kisses that----! [He laughs] How did +you stand them? [His eyes dart at her face] Imagination helped you, +perhaps! + +BEATRICE. Michael, don't, don't! And--oh! don't make a public thing +of it! You needn't be afraid I shall have too good a time! + + [He stays quite still and silent, and that which is writhing in + him makes his face so strange that BEATRICE stands aghast. At + last she goes stumbling on in speech] + +If ever you want to marry some one else--then, of course--that's only +fair, ruin or not. But till then--till then----He's leaving +Durford, going to Brighton. No one need know. And you--this isn't +the only parish in the world. + +STRANGWAY. [Quietly] You ask me to help you live in secret with +another man? + +BEATRICE. I ask for mercy. + +STRANGWAY. [As to himself] What am I to do? + +BEATRICE. What you feel in the bottom of your heart. + +STRANGWAY. You ask me to help you live in sin? + +BEATRICE. To let me go out of your life. You've only to do-- +nothing. [He goes, slowly, close to her.] + +STRANGWAY. I want you. Come back to me! Beatrice, come back! + +BEATRICE. It would be torture, now. + +STRANGWAY. [Writhing] Oh! + +BEATRICE. Whatever's in your heart--do! + +STRANGWAY. You'd come back to me sooner than ruin him? Would you? + +BEATRICE. I can't bring him harm. + +STRANGWAY. [Turning away] God!--if there be one help me! [He +stands leaning his forehead against the window. Suddenly his glance +falls on the little bird cage, still lying on the window-seat] Never +cage any wild thing! [He gives a laugh that is half a sob; then, +turning to the door, says in a low voice] Go! Go please, quickly! +Do what you will. I won't hurt you--can't----But--go! [He opens +the door.] + +BEATRICE. [Greatly moved] Thank you! + + [She passes him with her head down, and goes out quickly. + STRANGWAY stands unconsciously tearing at the little bird-cage. + And while he tears at it he utters a moaning sound. The + terrified MERCY, peering from behind the curtain, and watching + her chance, slips to the still open door; but in her haste and + fright she knocks against it, and STRANGWAY sees her. Before he + can stop her she has fled out on to the green and away.] + + [While he stands there, paralysed, the door from the house is + opened, and MRS. BURLACOMBE approaches him in a queer, hushed + way.] + +MRS. BURLACOMBE. [Her eyes mechanically fixed on the twisted +bird-cage in his hands] 'Tis poor Sue Cremer, zurr, I didn't 'ardly +think she'd last thru the mornin'. An' zure enough she'm passed +away! [Seeing that he has not taken in her words] Mr. Strangway-- +yu'm feelin' giddy? + +STRANGWAY. No, no! What was it? You said---- + +MRS. BURLACOMBE. 'Tes Jack Cremer. His wife's gone. 'E'm in a +terrible way. 'Tes only yu, 'e ses, can du 'im any gude. He'm in +the kitchen. + +STRANGWAY. Cremer? Yes! Of course. Let him---- + +MRS. BURLACOMBE. [Still staring at the twisted cage] Yu ain't +wantin' that--'tes all twizzled. [She takes it from him] Sure yu'm +not feelin' yer 'ead? + +STRANGWAY. [With a resolute effort] No! + +MRS. BURLACOMBE. [Doubtfully] I'll send 'im in, then. [She goes. +When she is gone, Strangway passes his handkerchief across his +forehead, and his lips move fast. He is standing motionless when +CREMER, a big man in labourer's clothes, with a thick, broad face, +and tragic, faithful eyes, comes in, and stands a little in from the +closed door, quite dumb.] + +STRANGWAY. [After a moment's silence--going up to him and laying a +hand on his shoulder] Jack! Don't give way. If we give way--we're +done. + +CREMER. Yes, zurr. [A quiver passes over his face.] + +STRANGWAY. She didn't. Your wife was a brave woman. A dear woman. + +CREMER. I never thought to luse 'er. She never told me 'ow bad she +was, afore she tuk to 'er bed. 'Tis a dreadful thing to luse a wife, +zurr. + +STRANGWAY. [Tightening his lips, that tremble] Yes. But don't give +way! Bear up, Jack! + +CREMER. Seems funny 'er goin' blue-bell time, an' the sun shinin' so +warm. I picked up an 'orse-shu yesterday. I can't never 'ave 'er +back, zurr. + + [His face quivers again.] + +STRANGWAY. Some day you'll join her. Think! Some lose their wives +for ever. + +CREMER. I don't believe as there's a future life, zurr. I think we +goo to sleep like the beasts. + +STRANGWAY. We're told otherwise. But come here! [Drawing him to +the window] Look! Listen! To sleep in that! Even if we do, it +won't be so bad, Jack, will it? + +CREMER. She wer' a gude wife to me--no man didn't 'ave no better +wife. + +STRANGWAY. [Putting his hand out] Take hold--hard--harder! I want +yours as much as you want mine. Pray for me, Jack, and I'll pray for +you. And we won't give way, will we? + +CREMER. [To whom the strangeness of these words has given some +relief] No, zurr; thank 'ee, zurr. 'Tes no gude, I expect. Only, +I'll miss 'er. Thank 'ee, zurr; kindly. + + [He lifts his hand to his head, turns, and uncertainly goes out + to the kitchen. And STRANGWAY stays where he is, not knowing + what to do. They blindly he takes up his flute, and hatless, + hurries out into the air.] + + + + +ACT II + + +SCENE I + + About seven o'clock in the taproom of the village inn. The bar, + with the appurtenances thereof, stretches across one end, and + opposite is the porch door on to the green. The wall between is + nearly all window, with leaded panes, one wide-open casement + whereof lets in the last of the sunlight. A narrow bench runs + under this broad window. And this is all the furniture, save + three spittoons: + + GODLEIGH, the innkeeper, a smallish man with thick ruffled hair, + a loquacious nose, and apple-red cheeks above a reddish-brown + moustache; is reading the paper. To him enters TIBBY JARLAND + with a shilling in her mouth. + +GODLEIGH. Well, TIBBY JARLAND, what've yu come for, then? Glass o' +beer? + + [TIBBY takes the shilling from her mouth and smiles stolidly.] + +GODLEIGH. [Twinkling] I shid zay glass o' 'arf an' 'arf's about +yure form. [TIBBY smiles more broadly] Yu'm a praaper masterpiece. +Well! 'Ave sister Mercy borrowed yure tongue? [TIBBY shakes her +head] Aw, she 'aven't. Well, maid? + +TIBBY. Father wants six clay pipes, please. + +GODLEIGH. 'E du, du 'ee? Yu tell yure father 'e can't 'ave more'n +one, not this avenin'. And 'ere 'tis. Hand up yure shillin'. + + [TIBBY reaches up her hand, parts with the shilling, and + receives a long clay pipe and eleven pennies. In order to + secure the coins in her pinafore she places the clay pipe in her + mouth. While she is still thus engaged, MRS. BRADMERE enters + the porch and comes in. TIBBY curtsies stolidly.] + +MRS. BRADMERE. Gracious, child! What are you doing here? And what +have you got in your mouth? Who is it? Tibby Jarland? [TIBBY +curtsies again] Take that thing out. And tell your father from me +that if I ever see you at the inn again I shall tread on his toes +hard. Godleigh, you know the law about children? + +GODLEIGH. [Cocking his eye, and not at all abashed] Surely, m'm. +But she will come. Go away, my dear. + + [TIBBY, never taking her eyes off MRS. BRADMERE, or the pipe + from her mouth, has backed stolidly to the door, and vanished.] + +MRS. BRADMERE. [Eyeing GODLEIGH] Now, Godleigh, I've come to talk +to you. Half the scandal that goes about the village begins here. +[She holds up her finger to check expostulation] No, no--its no +good. You know the value of scandal to your business far too well. + +GODLEIGH. Wi' all respect, m'm, I knows the vally of it to yourn, +tu. + +MRS. BRADMERE. What do you mean by that? + +GODLEIGH. If there weren't no Rector's lady there widden' be no +notice taken o' scandal; an' if there weren't no notice taken, +twidden be scandal, to my thinkin'. + +MRS. BRADMERE. [Winking out a grim little smile] Very well! You've +given me your views. Now for mine. There's a piece of scandal going +about that's got to be stopped, Godleigh. You turn the tap of it off +here, or we'll turn your tap off. You know me. See? + +GODLEIGH. I shouldn' never presume, m'm, to know a lady. + +MRS. BRADMERE. The Rector's quite determined, so is Sir Herbert. +Ordinary scandal's bad enough, but this touches the Church. While +Mr. Strangway remains curate here, there must be no talk about him +and his affairs. + +GODLEIGH. [Cocking his eye] I was just thinkin' how to du it, m'm. +'Twid be a brave notion to putt the men in chokey, and slit the +women's tongues-like, same as they du in outlandish places, as I'm +told. + +MRS. BRADMERE. Don't talk nonsense, Godleigh; and mind what I say, +because I mean it. + +GODLEIGH. Make yure mind aisy, m'm there'll be no scandal-monkeyin' +here wi' my permission. + + [MRS. BRADMERE gives him a keen stare, but seeing him perfectly + grave, nods her head with approval.] + +MRS. BRADMERE. Good! You know what's being said, of course? + +GODLEIGH. [With respectful gravity] Yu'll pardon me, m'm, but ef +an' in case yu was goin' to tell me, there's a rule in this 'ouse: +"No scandal 'ere!" + +MRS. BRADMERE. [Twinkling grimly] You're too smart by half, my man. + +GODLEIGH. Aw fegs, no, m'm--child in yure 'ands. + +MRS. BRADMERE. I wouldn't trust you a yard. Once more, Godleigh! +This is a Christian village, and we mean it to remain so. You look +out for yourself. + + [The door opens to admit the farmers TRUSTAFORD and BURLACOMBE. + They doff their hats to MRS. BRADMERE, who, after one more sharp + look at GODLEIGH, moves towards the door.] + +MRS. BRADMERE. Evening, Mr. Trustaford. [To BURLACOMBE] +Burlacombe, tell your wife that duck she sent up was in hard +training. + + [With one of her grim winks, and a nod, she goes.] + +TRUSTAFORD. [Replacing a hat which is black, hard, and not very new, +on his long head, above a long face, clean-shaved but for little +whiskers] What's the old grey mare want, then? [With a horse-laugh] +'Er's lukin' awful wise! + +GODLEIGH. [Enigmatically] Ah! + +TRUSTAFORD. [Sitting on the bench dose to the bar] Drop o' whisky, +an' potash. + +BURLACOMBE. [A taciturn, alien, yellowish man, in a worn soft hat] +What's wise, Godleigh? Drop o' cider. + +GODLEIGH. Nuse? There's never no nuse in this 'ouse. Aw, no! Not +wi' my permission. [In imitation] This is a Christian village. + +TRUSTAFORD. Thought the old grey mare seemed mighty busy. [To +BURLACOMBE] 'Tes rather quare about the curate's wife a-cumin' +motorin' this mornin'. Passed me wi' her face all smothered up in a +veil, goggles an' all. Haw, haw! + +BURLACOMBE. Aye! + +TRUSTAFORD. Off again she was in 'alf an hour. 'Er didn't give poor +old curate much of a chance, after six months. + +GODLEIGH. Havin' an engagement elsewhere--No scandal, please, +gentlemen. + +BURLACOMBE. [Acidly] Never asked to see my missis. Passed me in +the yard like a stone. + +TRUSTAFORD. 'Tes a little bit rumoursome lately about 'er doctor. + +GODLEIGH. Ah! he's the favourite. But 'tes a dead secret; Mr. +Trustaford. Don't yu never repate it--there's not a cat don't know +it already! + +BURLACOMBE frowns, and TRUSTAFORD utters his laugh. The door is +opened and FREMAN, a dark gipsyish man in the dress of a farmer, +comes in. + +GODLEIGH. Don't yu never tell Will Freman what 'e told me! + +FREMAN. Avenin'! + +TRUSTAFORD. Avenin', Will; what's yure glass o' trouble? + +FREMAN. Drop o' eider, clove, an' dash o' gin. There's blood in the +sky to-night. + +BURLACOMBE. Ah! We'll 'ave fine weather now, with the full o' the +mune. + +FREMAN. Dust o' wind an' a drop or tu, virst, I reckon. 'Earl t' +nuse about curate an' 'is wife? + +GODLEIGH. No, indeed; an' don't yu tell us. We'm Christians 'ere in +this village. + +FREMAN. 'Tain't no very Christian nuse, neither. He's sent 'er off +to th' doctor. "Go an' live with un," 'e says; "my blessin' on ye." +If 'er'd a-been mine, I'd 'a tuk the whip to 'er. Tam Jarland's +maid, she yeard it all. Christian, indeed! That's brave +Christianity! "Goo an' live with un!" 'e told 'er. + +BURLACOMBE. No, no; that's, not sense--a man to say that. I'll not +'ear that against a man that bides in my 'ouse. + +FREMAN. 'Tes sure, I tell 'ee. The maid was hid-up, scared-like, +behind the curtain. At it they went, and parson 'e says: "Go," 'e +says, "I won't kape 'ee from 'im," 'e says, "an' I won't divorce 'ee, +as yu don't wish it!" They was 'is words, same as Jarland's maid +told my maid, an' my maid told my missis. If that's parson's talk, +'tes funny work goin' to church. + +TRUSTAFORD. [Brooding] 'Tes wonderful quare, zurely. + +FREMAN. Tam Jarland's fair mad wi' curate for makin' free wi' his +maid's skylark. Parson or no parson, 'e've no call to meddle wi' +other people's praperty. He cam' pokin' 'is nose into my affairs. I +told un I knew a sight more 'bout 'orses than 'e ever would! + +TRUSTAFORD. He'm a bit crazy 'bout bastes an' birds. + + [They have been so absorbed that they bane not noticed the + entrance of CLYST, a youth with tousled hair, and a bright, + quick, Celtic eye, who stands listening, with a bit of paper in + his hand.] + +CLYST. Ah! he'm that zurely, Mr. Trustaford. + + [He chuckles.] + +GODLEIGH. Now, Tim Clyst, if an' in case yu've a-got some scandal on +yer tongue, don't yu never unship it here. Yu go up to Rectory where +'twill be more relished-like. + +CLYST. [Waving the paper] Will y' give me a drink for this, Mr. +Godleigh? 'Tes rale funny. Aw! 'tes somethin' swats. Butiful +readin'. Poetry. Rale spice. Yu've a luv'ly voice for readin', Mr. +Godleigh. + +GODLEIGH. [All ears and twinkle] Aw, what is it then? + +CLYST. Ah! Yu want t'know tu much. + + [Putting the paper in his pocket.] + + [While he is speaking, JIM BERE has entered quietly, with his + feeble step and smile, and sits down.] + +CLYST. [Kindly] Hello, Jim! Cat come 'ome? + +JIM BERE. No. + + [All nod, and speak to him kindly. And JIM BERE smiles at them, + and his eyes ask of them the question, to which there is no + answer. And after that he sits motionless and silent, and they + talk as if he were not there.] + +GODLEIGH. What's all this, now--no scandal in my 'ouse! + +CLYST. 'Tes awful peculiar--like a drame. Mr. Burlacombe 'e don't +like to hear tell about drames. A guess a won't tell 'ee, arter +that. + +FREMAN. Out wi' it, Tim. + +CLYST. 'Tes powerful thirsty to-day, Mr. Godleigh. + +GODLEIGH. [Drawing him some cider] Yu're all wild cat's talk, Tim; +yu've a-got no tale at all. + +CLYST. [Moving for the cider] Aw, indade! + +GODLEIGH. No tale, no cider! + +CLYST. Did ye ever year tell of Orphus? + +TRUSTAFORD. What? The old vet. up to Drayleigh? + +CLYST. Fegs, no; Orphus that lived in th' old time, an' drawed the +bastes after un wi' his music, same as curate was tellin' the maids. + +FREMAN. I've 'eard as a gipsy over to Vellacott could du that wi' +'is viddle. + +CLYST. 'Twas no gipsy I see'd this arternune; 'twee Orphus, down to +Mr. Burlacombe's long medder; settin' there all dark on a stone among +the dimsy-white flowers an' the cowflops, wi' a bird upon 'is 'ead, +playin' his whistle to the ponies. + +FREMAN. [Excitedly] Yu did never zee a man wi' a bird on 'is 'ead. + +CLYST. Didn' I? + +FREMAN. What sort o' bird, then? Yu tell me that. + +TRUSTAFORD. Praaper old barndoor cock. Haw, haw! + +GODLEIGH. [Soothingly] 'Tes a vairy-tale; us mustn't be tu +partic'lar. + +BURLACOMBE: In my long medder? Where were yu, then, Tim Clyst? + +CLYST. Passin' down the lane on my bike. Wonderful sorrowful-fine +music 'e played. The ponies they did come round 'e--yu cud zee the +tears rennin' down their chakes; 'twas powerful sad. 'E 'adn't no +'at on. + +FREMAN. [Jeering] No; 'e 'ad a bird on 'is 'ead. + +CLYST. [With a silencing grin] He went on playin' an' playin'. The +ponies they never muved. An' all the dimsy-white flowers they waved +and waved, an' the wind it went over 'em. Gav' me a funny feelin'. + +GODLEIGH. Clyst, yu take the cherry bun! + +CLYST. Where's that cider, Mr. Godleigh? + +GODLEIGH. [Bending over the cider] Yu've a-- 'ad tu much already, +Tim. + + [The door is opened, and TAM JARLAND appears. He walks rather + unsteadily; a man with a hearty jowl, and sullen, strange; + epileptic-looking eyes.] + +CLYST. [Pointing to JARLAND] 'Tis Tam Jarland there 'as the cargo +aboard. + +JARLAND. Avenin', all! [To GODLEIGH] Pinto' beer. [To JIM BERE] +Avenin', Jim. + + [JIM BERE looks at him and smiles.] + +GODLEIGH. [Serving him after a moment's hesitation] 'Ere y'are, +Tam. [To CLYST, who has taken out his paper again] Where'd yu get +thiccy paper? + +CLYST. [Putting down his cider-mug empty] Yure tongue du watter, +don't it, Mr. Godleigh? [Holding out his mug] No zider, no poetry. +'Tis amazin' sorrowful; Shakespeare over again. "The boy stude on +the burnin' deck." + +FREMAN. Yu and yer yap! + +CLYST. Ah! Yu wait a bit. When I come back down t'lane again, +Orphus 'e was vanished away; there was naught in the field but the +ponies, an' a praaper old magpie, a-top o' the hedge. I zee +somethin' white in the beak o' the fowl, so I giv' a "Whisht," an' +'e drops it smart, an' off 'e go. I gets over bank an' picks un up, +and here't be. + + [He holds out his mug.] + +BURLACOMBE. [Tartly] Here, give 'im 'is cider. Rade it yureself, +ye young teasewings. + + [CLYST, having secured his cider, drinks it o$. Holding up the + paper to the light, he makes as if to begin, then slides his + eye round, tantalizing.] + +CLYST. 'Tes a pity I bain't dressed in a white gown, an' flowers in +me 'air. + +FREMAN. Read it, or we'll 'aye yu out o' this. + +CLYST. Aw, don't 'ee shake my nerve, now! + + [He begins reading with mock heroism, in his soft, high, burring + voice. Thus, in his rustic accent, go the lines] + + God lighted the zun in 'eaven far. + Lighted the virefly an' the star. + My 'eart 'E lighted not! + + God lighted the vields fur lambs to play, + Lighted the bright strames, 'an the may. + My 'eart 'E lighted not! + + God lighted the mune, the Arab's way, + He lights to-morrer, an' to-day. + My 'eart 'E 'ath vorgot! + + [When he has finished, there is silence. Then TRUSTAFORD, + scratching his head, speaks:] + +TAUSTAFORD. 'Tes amazin' funny stuff. + +FREMAN. [Looking over CLYST'S shoulder] Be danged! 'Tes the +curate's 'andwritin'. 'Twas curate wi' the ponies, after that. + +CLYST. Fancy, now! Aw, Will Freman, an't yu bright! + +FREMAN. But 'e 'adn't no bird on 'is 'ead. + +CLYST. Ya-as, 'e 'ad. + +JARLAND. [In a dull, threatening voice] 'E 'ad my maid's bird, this +arternune. 'Ead or no, and parson or no, I'll gie 'im one for that. + +FREMAN. Ah! And 'e meddled wi' my 'orses. + +TRUSTAFORD. I'm thinkin' 'twas an old cuckoo bird 'e 'ad on 'is +'ead. Haw, haw! + +GODLEIGH. "His 'eart She 'ath Vorgot!" + +FREMAN. 'E's a fine one to be tachin' our maids convirmation. + +GODLEIGH. Would ye 'ave it the old Rector then? Wi' 'is gouty shoe? +Rackon the maids wid rather 'twas curate; eh, Mr. Burlacombe? + +BURLACOMBE. [Abruptly] Curate's a gude man. + +JARLAND. [With the comatose ferocity of drink] I'll be even wi' un. + +FREMAN. [Excitedly] Tell 'ee one thing--'tes not a proper man o' +God to 'ave about, wi' 'is luse goin's on. Out vrom 'ere he oughter +go. + +BURLACOMBE. You med go further an' fare worse. + +FREMAN. What's 'e duin', then, lettin' 'is wife runoff? + +TRUSTAFORD. [Scratching his head] If an' in case 'e can't kape 'er, +'tes a funny way o' duin' things not to divorce 'er, after that. If +a parson's not to du the Christian thing, whu is, then? + +BURLACOMBE. 'Tes a bit immoral-like to pass over a thing like that. +Tes funny if women's gain's on's to be encouraged. + +FREMAN. Act of a coward, I zay. + +BURLACOMBE. The curate ain't no coward. + +FREMAN. He bides in yure house; 'tes natural for yu to stand up for +un; I'll wager Mrs. Burlacombe don't, though. My missis was fair +shocked. "Will," she says, "if yu ever make vur to let me go like +that, I widden never stay wi' yu," she says. + +TRUSTAFORD. 'Tes settin' a bad example, for zure. + +BURLACOMBE. 'Tes all very airy talkin'; what shude 'e du, then? + +FREMAN. [Excitedly] Go over to Durford and say to that doctor: "Yu +come about my missis, an' zee what I'll du to 'ee." An' take 'er +'ome an' zee she don't misbe'ave again. + +CLYST. 'E can't take 'er ef 'er don' want t' come--I've 'eard +lawyer, that lodged wi' us, say that. + +FREMAN. All right then, 'e ought to 'ave the law of 'er and 'er +doctor; an' zee 'er goin's on don't prosper; 'e'd get damages, tu. +But this way 'tes a nice example he'm settin' folks. Parson indade! +My missis an' the maids they won't goo near the church to-night, an' +I wager no one else won't, neither. + +JARLAND. [Lurching with his pewter up to GODLEIGH] The beggar! I'll +be even wi' un. + +GODLEIGH. [Looking at him in doubt] 'Tes the last, then, Tam. + + [Having received his beer, JARLAND stands, leaning against the + bar, drinking.] + +BURLACOMBE. [Suddenly] I don' goo with what curate's duin--'tes +tiff soft 'earted; he'm a muney kind o' man altogether, wi' 'is flute +an' 'is poetry; but he've a-lodged in my 'ouse this year an' mare, +and always 'ad an 'elpin' 'and for every one. I've got a likin' for +him an' there's an end of it. + +JARLAND. The coward! + +TRUSTAFORD. I don' trouble nothin' about that, Tam Jarland. +[Turning to BURLACOMBE] What gits me is 'e don't seem to 'ave no +zense o' what's his own praperty. + +JARLAND. Take other folk's property fast enough! + + [He saws the air with his empty. The others have all turned to + him, drawn by the fascination that a man in liquor has for his + fellow-men. The bell for church has begun to rang, the sun is + down, and it is getting dusk.] + +He wants one on his crop, an' one in 'is belly; 'e wants a man to +take an' gie un a gude hidin zame as he oughter give 'is fly-be-night +of a wife. + + [STRANGWAY in his dark clothes has entered, and stands by the + door, his lips compressed to a colourless line, his thin, + darkish face grey-white] + +Zame as a man wid ha' gi'en the doctor, for takin' what isn't his'n. + + All but JARLAND have seen STRANGWAY. He steps forward, JARLAND + sees him now; his jaw drops a little, and he is silent. + +STRANGWAY. I came for a little brandy, Mr. Godleigh--feeling rather +faint. Afraid I mightn't get through the service. + +GODLEIGH. [With professional composure] Marteil's Three Star, zurr, +or 'Ennessy's? + +STRANGWAY. [Looking at JARLAND] Thank you; I believe I can do +without, now. [He turns to go.] + + [In the deadly silence, GODLEIGH touches the arm of JARLAND, + who, leaning against the bar with the pewter in his hand, is + staring with his strange lowering eyes straight at STRANGWAY.] + +JARLAND. [Galvanized by the touch into drunken rage] Lave me be +--I'll talk to un-parson or no. I'll tache un to meddle wi' my maid's +bird. I'll tache un to kape 'is thievin' 'ands to 'imself. + + [STRANGWAY turns again.] + +CLYST. Be quiet, Tam. + +JARLAND. [Never loosing STRANGWAY with his eyes--like a bull-dog +who sees red] That's for one chake; zee un turn t'other, the +white-livered buty! Whu lets another man 'ave 'is wife, an' never +the sperit to go vor un! + +BURLACOMBE. Shame, Jarland; quiet, man! + + [They are all looking at STRANGWAY, who, under JARLAND'S drunken + insults is standing rigid, with his eyes closed, and his hands + hard clenched. The church bell has stopped slow ringing, and + begun its five minutes' hurrying note.] + +TRUSTAFORD. [Rising, and trying to hook his arm into JARLAND'S] +Come away, Tam; yu've a-'ad to much, man. + +JARLAND. [Shaking him off] Zee, 'e darsen't touch me; I might 'it +un in the vase an' 'e darsen't; 'e's afraid--like 'e was o' the +doctor. + + [He raises the pewter as though to fling it, but it is seized by + GODLEIGH from behind, and falls clattering to the floor. + STRANGWAY has not moved.] + +JARLAND. [Shaking his fist almost in his face] Luke at un, Luke at +un! A man wi' a slut for a wife---- + + [As he utters the word "wife" STRANGWAY seizes the outstretched + fist, and with a jujitsu movement, draws him into his clutch, + helpless. And as they sway and struggle in the open window, + with the false strength of fury he forces JARLAND through. + There is a crash of broken glass from outside. At the sound + STRANGWAY comes to himself. A look of agony passes over his + face. His eyes light on JIM BERE, who has suddenly risen, and + stands feebly clapping his hands. STRANGWAY rushes out.] + + [Excitedly gathering at the window, they all speak at once.] + +CLYST. Tam's hatchin' of yure cucumbers, Mr. Godleigh. + +TRUSTAFORD. 'E did crash; haw, haw! + +FREMAN. 'Twas a brave throw, zurely. Whu wid a' thought it? + +CLYST. Tam's crawlin' out. [Leaning through window] Hello, Tam-- +'ow's t' base, old man? + +FREMAN. [Excitedly] They'm all comin' up from churchyard to zee. + +TRUSTAFORD. Tam du luke wonderful aztonished; haw, haw! Poor old +Tam! + +CLYST. Can yu zee curate? Reckon 'e'm gone into church. Aw, yes; +gettin' a bit dimsy-service time. [A moment's hush.] + +TRUSTAFORD. Well, I'm jiggered. In 'alf an hour he'm got to prache. + +GODLEIGH. 'Tes a Christian village, boys. + + [Feebly, quietly, JIM BERE laughs. There is silence; but the + bell is heard still ranging.] + + + CURTAIN. + + + +SCENE II + + The same-in daylight dying fast. A lamp is burning on the bar. + A chair has been placed in the centre of the room, facing the + bench under the window, on which are seated from right to left, + GODLEIGH, SOL POTTER the village shopman, TRUSTAFORD, + BURLACOMBE, FREMAN, JIM BERE, and MORSE the blacksmith. CLYST + is squatting on a stool by the bar, and at the other end + JARLAND, sobered and lowering, leans against the lintel of the + porch leading to the door, round which are gathered five or six + sturdy fellows, dumb as fishes. No one sits in the chair. In + the unnatural silence that reigns, the distant sound of the + wheezy church organ and voices singing can be heard. + +TAUSTAFORD. [After a prolonged clearing of his throat] What I mean +to zay is that 'tes no yuse, not a bit o' yuse in the world, not +duin' of things properly. If an' in case we'm to carry a resolution +disapprovin' o' curate, it must all be done so as no one can't, zay +nothin'. + +SOL POTTER. That's what I zay, Mr. Trustaford; ef so be as 'tis to +be a village meetin', then it must be all done proper. + +FREMAN. That's right, Sot Potter. I purpose Mr. Sot Potter into the +chair. Whu seconds that? + + [A silence. Voices from among the dumb-as-fishes: "I du."] + +CLYST. [Excitedly] Yu can't putt that to the meetin'. Only a +chairman can putt it to the meetin'. I purpose that Mr. Burlacombe-- +bein as how he's chairman o' the Parish Council--take the chair. + +FREMAN. Ef so be as I can't putt it, yu can't putt that neither. + +TRUSTAFORD. 'Tes not a bit o' yuse; us can't 'ave no meetin' without +a chairman. + +GODLEIGH. Us can't 'ave no chairman without a meetin' to elect un, +that's zure. [A silence.] + +MORSE. [Heavily] To my way o' thinkin', Mr. Godleigh speaks zense; +us must 'ave a meetin' before us can 'ave a chairman. + +CLYST. Then what we got to du's to elect a meetin'. + +BURLACOMBE. [Sourly] Yu'll not find no procedure far that. + + [Voices from among the dumb-as fishes: "Mr. Burlacombe 'e + oughter know."] + +SOL POTTER. [Scratching his head--with heavy solemnity] 'Tes my +belief there's no other way to du, but to elect a chairman to call a +meetin'; an' then for that meetin' to elect a chairman. + +CLYST. I purpose Mr. Burlacombe as chairman to call a meetin'. + +FREMAN. I purpose Sol Potter. + +GODLEIGH. Can't 'ave tu propositions together before a meetin'; +that's apple-pie zure vur zurtain. + + [Voice from among the dumb-as fishes: "There ain't no meetin' + yet, Sol Potter zays."] + +TRUSTAFORD. Us must get the rights of it zettled some'ow. 'Tes like +the darned old chicken an' the egg--meetin' or chairman--which come +virst? + +SOL POTTER. [Conciliating] To my thinkin' there shid be another way +o' duin' it, to get round it like with a circumbendibus. 'T'all +comes from takin' different vuse, in a manner o' spakin'. + +FREMAN. Vu goo an' zet in that chair. + +SOL POTTER. [With a glance at BURLACOMBE modestly] I shid'n never +like fur to du that, with Mr. Burlacombe zettin' there. + +BURLACOMBE. [Rising] 'Tes all darned fulishness. + + [Amidst an uneasy shufflement of feet he moves to the door, and + goes out into the darkness.] + +CLYST. [Seeing his candidate thus depart] Rackon curate's pretty +well thru by now, I'm goin' to zee. [As he passes JARLAND] 'Ow's to +base, old man? + + [He goes out. One of the dumb-as-fishes moves from the door and + fills the apace left on the bench by BURLACOMBE'S departure.] + +JARLAND. Darn all this puzzivantin'! [To SOL POTTER] Got an' zet +in that chair. + +SOL POTTER. [Rising and going to the chair; there he stands, +changing from one to the other of his short broad feet and sweating +from modesty and worth] 'Tes my duty now, gentlemen, to call a +meetin' of the parishioners of this parish. I beg therefore to +declare that this is a meetin' in accordance with my duty as chairman +of this meetin' which elected me chairman to call this meetin'. And +I purceed to vacate the chair so that this meetin' may now purceed to +elect a chairman. + + [He gets up from the chair, and wiping the sweat from his brow, + goes back to his seat.] + +FREMAN. Mr. Chairman, I rise on a point of order. + +GODLEIGH. There ain't no chairman. + +FREMAN. I don't give a darn for that. I rise on a point of order. + +GODLEIGH. 'Tes a chairman that decides points of order. 'Tes +certain yu can't rise on no points whatever till there's a chairman. + +TRUSTAFORD. 'Tes no yuse yure risin', not the least bit in the +world, till there's some one to set yu down again. Haw, haw! + + [Voice from the dumb-as-Etches: "Mr. Trustaford 'e's right."] + +FREMAN. What I zay is the chairman ought never to 'ave vacated the +chair till I'd risen on my point of order. I purpose that he goo and +zet down again. + +GODLEIGH. Yu can't purpose that to this meetin'; yu can only purpose +that to the old meetin' that's not zettin' any longer. + +FREMAN. [Excitedly] I didn' care what old meetin' 'tis that's +zettin'. I purpose that Sol Potter goo an' zet in that chair again, +while I rise on my point of order. + +TRUSTAFORD. [Scratching his head] 'Tesn't regular but I guess yu've +got to goo, Sol, or us shan't 'ave no peace. + + [SOL POTTER, still wiping his brow, goes back to the chair.] + +MORSE. [Stolidly-to FREMAN] Zet down, Will Freman. [He pulls at +him with a blacksmith's arm.] + +FREMAN. [Remaining erect with an effort] I'm not a-goin' to zet +down till I've arisen. + +JARLAND. Now then, there 'e is in the chair. What's yore point of +order? + +FREMAN. [Darting his eyes here and there, and flinging his hand up +to his gipsy-like head] 'Twas--'twas--Darned ef y' 'aven't putt it +clean out o' my 'ead. + +JARLAND. We can't wait for yore points of order. Come out o' that +chair. Sol Potter. + + [SOL POTTER rises and is about to vacate the chair.] + +FREMAN. I know! There ought to 'a been minutes taken. Yu can't +'ave no meetin' without minutes. When us comes to electin' a +chairman o' the next meetin', 'e won't 'ave no minutes to read. + +SOL POTTER. 'Twas only to putt down that I was elected chairman to +elect a meetin' to elect a chairman to preside over a meetin' to pass +a resolution dalin' wi' the curate. That's aisy set down, that is. + +FREMAN. [Mollified] We'll 'ave that zet down, then, while we're +electin' the chairman o' the next meetin'. + + [A silence. ] + +TRUSTAFORD. Well then, seein' this is the praaper old meetin' for +carryin' the resolution about the curate, I purpose Mr. Sol Potter +take the chair. + +FREMAN. I purpose Mr. Trustaford. I 'aven't a-got nothin' against +Sol Potter, but seein' that he elected the meetin' that's to elect +'im, it might be said that 'e was electin' of himzelf in a manner of +spakin'. Us don't want that said. + +MORSE. [Amid meditative grunts from the dumb-as-fishes] There's +some-at in that. One o' they tu purposals must be putt to the +meetin'. + +FREMAN. Second must be putt virst, fur zure. + +TRUSTAFORD. I dunno as I wants to zet in that chair. To hiss the +curate, 'tis a ticklish sort of a job after that. Vurst comes afore +second, Will Freeman. + +FREMAN. Second is amendment to virst. 'Tes the amendments is putt +virst. + +TRUSTAFORD. 'Ow's that, Mr. Godleigh? I'm not particular eggzac'ly +to a dilly zort of a point like that. + +SOL POTTER. [Scratching his, head] 'Tes a very nice point, for +zure. + +GODLEIGH. 'Tes undoubtedly for the chairman to decide. + + [Voice from the dumb-as fishes: "But there ain't no chairman + yet."] + +JARLAND. Sol Potter's chairman. + +FREMAN. No, 'e ain't. + +MORSE. Yes, 'e is--'e's chairman till this second old meetin' gets +on the go. + +FREMAN. I deny that. What du yu say, Mr. Trustaford? + +TRUSTAFORD. I can't 'ardly tell. It du zeem a darned long-sufferin' +sort of a business altogether. + + [A silence.] + +MORSE. [Slowly] Tell 'ee what 'tis, us shan't du no gude like this. + +GODLEIGH. 'Tes for Mr. Freman or Mr. Trustaford, one or t'other to +withdraw their motions. + +TRUSTAFORD. [After a pause, with cautious generosity] I've no +objections to withdrawin' mine, if Will Freman'll withdraw his'n. + +FREMAN. I won't never be be'indhand. If Mr. Trustaford withdraws, I +withdraws mine. + +MORSE. [With relief] That's zensible. Putt the motion to the +meetin'. + +SOL POTTER. There ain't no motion left to putt. + + [Silence of consternation.] + + [In the confusion Jim BERE is seen to stand up.] + +GODLEIGH. Jim Bere to spike. Silence for Jim! + +VOICES. Aye! Silence for Jim! + +SOL POTTER. Well, Jim? + +JIM. [Smiling and slow] Nothin' duin'. + +TRUSTAFORD. Bravo, Jim! Yu'm right. Best zense yet! + + [Applause from the dumb-as-fishes.] + + [With his smile brightening, JIM resumes his seat.] + +SOL POTTER. [Wiping his brow] Du seem to me, gentlemen, seem' as +we'm got into a bit of a tangle in a manner of spakin', 'twid be the +most zimplest and vairest way to begin all over vrom the beginnin', +so's t'ave it all vair an' square for every one. + + [In the uproar Of "Aye" and "No," it is noticed that TIBBY + JARLAND is standing in front of her father with her finger, for + want of something better, in her mouth.] + +TIBBY. [In her stolid voice] Please, sister Mercy says, curate 'ave +got to "Lastly." [JARLAND picks her up, and there is silence.] An' +please to come quick. + +JARLAND. Come on, mates; quietly now! + + [He goes out, and all begin to follow him.] + +MORSE. [Slowest, save for SOL POTTER] 'Tes rare lucky us was all +agreed to hiss the curate afore us began the botherin' old meetin', +or us widn' 'ardly 'ave 'ad time to settle what to du. + +SOL POTTER. [Scratching his head] Aye, 'tes rare lucky; but I dunno +if 'tes altogether reg'lar. + + + CURTAIN. + + + +SCENE III + + The village green before the churchyard and the yew-trees at the + gate. Into the pitch dark under the yews, light comes out + through the half-open church door. Figures are lurking, or + moving stealthily--people waiting and listening to the sound of + a voice speaking in the church words that are inaudible. + Excited whispering and faint giggles come from the deepest + yew-tree shade, made ghostly by the white faces and the frocks of + young girls continually flitting up and back in the blackness. A + girl's figure comes flying out from the porch, down the path of + light, and joins the stealthy group. + +WHISPERING VOICE of MERCY. Where's 'e got to now, Gladys? + +WHISPERING VOICE OF GLADYS. 'E've just finished. + +VOICE OF CONNIE. Whu pushed t'door open? + +VOICE OF GLADYS. Tim Clyst I giv' it a little push, meself. + +VOICE OF CONNIE. Oh! + +VOICE of GLADYS. Tim Clyst's gone in! + +ANOTHER VOICE. O-o-o-h! + +VOICE of MERCY. Whu else is there, tu? + +VOICE OF GLADYS. Ivy's there, an' Old Mrs. Potter, an' tu o' the +maids from th'Hall; that's all as ever. + +VOICE of CONNIE. Not the old grey mare? + +VOICE of GLADYS. No. She ain't ther'. 'Twill just be th'ymn now, +an' the Blessin'. Tibby gone for 'em? + +VOICE OF MERCY. Yes. + +VOICE of CONNIE. Mr. Burlacombe's gone in home, I saw 'im pass by +just now--'e don' like it. Father don't like it neither. + +VOICE of MERCY. Mr. Strangway shoudn' 'ave taken my skylark, an' +thrown father out o' winder. 'Tis goin' to be awful fun! Oh! + + [She jumps up and dawn in the darkness. And a voice from far in + the shadow says: "Hsssh! Quiet, yu maids!" The voice has + ceased speaking in the church. There is a moment's dead + silence. The voice speaks again; then from the wheezy little + organ come the first faint chords of a hymn.] + +GLADYS. "Nearer, my God, to Thee!" + +VOICE of MERCY. 'Twill be funny, with no one 'ardly singin'. + + [The sound of the old hymn sung by just six voices comes out to + them rather sweet and clear.] + +GLADYS. [Softly] 'Tis pretty, tu. Why! They're only singin' one +verse! + + [A moment's silence, and the voice speaks, uplifted, pronouncing + the Blessing: "The peace of God----" As the last words die away, + dark figures from the inn approach over the grass, till quite a + crowd seems standing there without a word spoken. Then from out + of the church porch come the congregation. TIM CLYST first, + hastily lost among the waiting figures in the dark; old Mrs. + Potter, a half blind old lady groping her way and perceiving + nothing out of the ordinary; the two maids from the Hall, + self-conscious and scared, scuttling along. Last, IVY BURLACOMBE + quickly, and starting back at the dim, half-hidden crowd.] + +VOICE of GLADYS. [Whispering] Ivy! Here, quick! + + [Ivy sways, darts off towards the voice, and is lost in the + shadow.] + +VOICE OF FREMAN. [Low] Wait, boys, till I give signal. + + [Two or three squirks and giggles; Tim CLYST'S voice: "Ya-as! + Don't 'ee tread on my toe!" A soft, frightened "O-o-h!" from a + girl. Some quick, excited whisperings: "Luke!" "Zee there!" + "He's comin'!" And then a perfectly dead silence. The figure + of STRANGWAY is seen in his dark clothes, passing from the + vestry to the church porch. He stands plainly visible in the + lighted porch, locking the door, then steps forward. Just as he + reaches the edge of the porch, a low hiss breaks the silence. + It swells very gradually into a long, hissing groan. STRANGWAY + stands motionless, his hand over his eyes, staring into the + darkness. A girl's figure can be seen to break out of the + darkness and rush away. When at last the groaning has died into + sheer expectancy, STRANGWAY drops his hand.] + +STRANGWAY. [In a loco voice] Yes! I'm glad. Is Jarland there? + +FREMAN. He's 'ere-no thanks to yu! Hsss! + + [The hiss breaks out again, then dies away.] + +JARLAND'S VOICE. [Threatening] Try if yu can du it again. + +STRANGWAY. No, Jarland, no! I ask you to forgive me. Humbly! + + [A hesitating silence, broken by muttering.] + +CLYST'S VOICE. Bravo! + +A VOICE. That's vair. + +A VOICE. 'E's afraid o' the sack--that's what 'tis. + +A VOICE. [Groaning] 'E's a praaper coward. + +A VOICE. Whu funked the doctor? + +CLYST'S VOICE. Shame on 'ee, therr! + +STRANGWAY. You're right--all of you! I'm not fit! An uneasy and +excited mustering and whispering dies away into renewed silence. + +STRANGWAY. What I did to Tam Jarland is not the real cause of what +you're doing, is it? I understand. But don't be troubled. It's all +over. I'm going--you'll get some one better. Forgive me, Jarland. +I can't see your face--it's very dark. + +FREMAN'S Voice. [Mocking] Wait for the full mune. + +GODLEIGH. [Very low] "My 'eart 'E lighted not!" + +STRANGWAY. [starting at the sound of his own words thus mysteriously +given him out of the darkness] Whoever found that, please tear it +up! [After a moment's silence] Many of you have been very kind to +me. You won't see me again--Good-bye, all! + + [He stands for a second motionless, then moves resolutely down + into the darkness so peopled with shadows.] + +UNCERTAIN VOICES AS HE PASSES. Good-bye, zurr! +Good luck, zurr! [He has gone.] + +CLYST'S VOICE. Three cheers for Mr. Strangway! + + [And a queer, strangled cheer, with groans still threading it, + arises.] + + + CURTAIN. + + + + +ACT III + + +SCENE I + + In the BURLACOMBES' hall-sitting-room the curtains are drawn, a + lamp burns, and the door stands open. BURLACOMBE and his wife + are hovering there, listening to the sound of mingled cheers and + groaning. + +MRS. BURLACOMBE. Aw! my gudeness--what a thing t'appen! I'd saner +'a lost all me ducks. [She makes towards the inner door] I can't +never face 'im. + +BURLACOMBE. 'E can't expect nothin' else, if 'e act like that. + +MRS. BURLACOMBE. 'Tes only duin' as 'e'd be done by. + +BURLACOMBE. Aw! Yu can't go on forgivin' 'ere, an' forgivin' there. +'Tesn't nat'ral. + +MRS. BURLACOMBE. 'Tes the mischief 'e'm a parson. 'Tes 'im bein' a +lamb o' God--or 'twidden be so quare for 'im to be forgivin'. + +BURLACOMBE. Yu goo an' make un a gude 'ot drink. + +MRS. BURLACOMBE. Poor soul! What'll 'e du now, I wonder? [Under +her breath] 'E's cumin'! + + [She goes hurriedly. BURLACOMBE, with a startled look back, + wavers and makes to follow her, but stops undecided in the inner + doorway. STRANGWAY comes in from the darkness. He turns to the + window and drops overcoat and hat and the church key on the + windowseat, looking about him as men do when too hard driven, + and never fixing his eyes long enough on anything to see it. + BURLACOMBE, closing the door into the house, advances a step. + At the sound STRANGWAY faces round.] + +BURLACOMBE. I wanted for yu to know, zurr, that me an' mine 'adn't +nothin' to du wi' that darned fulishness, just now. + +STRANGWAY. [With a ghost of a smile] Thank you, Burlacombe. It +doesn't matter. It doesn't matter a bit. + +BURLACOMBE. I 'ope yu won't take no notice of it. Like a lot o' +silly bees they get. [After an uneasy pause] Yu'll excuse me +spakin' of this mornin', an' what 'appened. 'Tes a brave pity it +cam' on yu so sudden-like before yu 'ad time to think. 'Tes a sort +o' thing a man shude zet an' chew upon. Certainly 'tes not a bit o' +yuse goin' against human nature. Ef yu don't stand up for yureself +there's no one else not goin' to. 'Tes yure not 'avin' done that 'as +made 'em so rampageous. [Stealing another look at STRANGWAY] Yu'll +excuse me, zurr, spakin' of it, but 'tes amazin' sad to zee a man let +go his own, without a word o' darin'. 'Tea as ef 'e 'ad no passions +like. + +STRANGWAY. Look at me, Burlacombe. + + [BURLACOMBE looks up, trying hard to keep his eyes on + STRANGWAY'S, that seem to burn in his thin face.] + +STRANGWAY. Do I look like that? Please, please! [He touches his +breast] I've too much here. Please! + +BURLACOMBE. [With a sort of startled respect] Well, zurr, 'tes not +for me to zay nothin', certainly. + + [He turns and after a slow look back at STRANGWAY goes out.] + +STRANGWAY. [To himself] Passions! No passions! Ha! + + [The outer door is opened and IVY BURLACOMBE appears, and, + seeing him, stops. Then, coming softly towards him, she speaks + timidly.] + +IVY. Oh! Mr. Strangway, Mrs. Bradmere's cumin' from the Rectory. I +ran an' told 'em. Oh! 'twas awful. + + [STRANGWAY starts, stares at her, and turning on his heel, goes + into the house. Ivy's face is all puckered, as if she were on + the point of tears. There is a gentle scratching at the door, + which has not been quite closed.] + +VOICE OF GLADYS. [Whispering] Ivy! Come on Ivy. I won't. + +VOICE OF MERCY. Yu must. Us can't du without Yu. + +Ivy. [Going to the door] I don't want to. + +VOICE of GLADYS. "Naughty maid, she won't come out," Ah! du 'ee! + +VOICE OF CREMER. Tim Clyst an' Bobbie's cumin'; us'll only be six +anyway. Us can't dance "figure of eight" without yu. + +Ivy. [Stamping her foot] I don't want to dance at all! I don't. + +MERCY. Aw! She's temper. Yu can bang on tambourine, then! + +GLADYS. [Running in] Quick, Ivy! Here's the old grey mare cumin' +down the green. Quick. + + [With whispering and scuffling; gurgling and squeaking, the + reluctant Ivy's hand is caught and she is jerked away. In their + haste they have left the door open behind them.] + +VOICE of MRS. BRADMERE. [Outside] Who's that? + + [She knocks loudly, and rings a bell; then, without waiting, + comes in through the open door.] + + [Noting the overcoat and hat on the window-sill she moves across + to ring the bell. But as she does so, MRS. BURLACOMBE, followed + by BURLACOMBE, comes in from the house.] + +MRS. BRADMERE This disgraceful business! Where's Mr. Strangway? I +see he's in. + +MRS. BURLACOMBE. Yes, m'm, he'm in--but--but Burlacombe du zay he'm +terrible upset. + +MRS. BRADMERE. I should think so. I must see him--at once. + +MRS. BURLACOMBE. I doubt bed's the best place for 'un, an' gude 'ot +drink. Burlacombe zays he'm like a man standin' on the edge of a +cliff; and the lasts tipsy o' wind might throw un over. + +MRS. BRADMERE. [To BURLACOMBE] You've seen him, then? + +BURLACOMBE. Yeas; an' I don't like the luke of un--not a little bit, +I don't. + +MRS. BURLACOMBE. [Almost to herself] Poor soul; 'e've a-'ad to +much to try un this yer long time past. I've a-seen 'tis sperrit +cumin' thru 'is body, as yu might zay. He's torn to bits, that's +what 'tis. + +BURLACOMBE. 'Twas a praaper cowardly thing to hiss a man when he's +down. But 'twas natural tu, in a manner of spakin'. But 'tesn't +that troublin' 'im. 'Tes in here [touching his forehead], along of +his wife, to my thinkin'. They zay 'e've a-known about 'er a-fore +she went away. Think of what 'e've 'ad to kape in all this time. +'Tes enough to drive a man silly after that. I've a-locked my gun +up. I see a man like--like that once before--an' sure enough 'e was +dead in the mornin'! + +MRS. BRADMERE. Nonsense, Burlacombe! [To MRS. BURLACOMBE] Go and +tell him I want to see him--must see him. [MRS. BURLACOMBE goes +into the house] And look here, Burlacombe; if we catch any one, man +or woman, talking of this outside the village, it'll be the end of +their tenancy, whoever they may be. Let them all know that. I'm +glad he threw that drunken fellow out of the window, though it was a +little---- + +BURLACOMBE. Aye! The nuspapers would be praaper glad of that, for a +tiddy bit o' nuse. + +MRS. BRADMERE. My goodness! Yes! The men are all up at the inn. +Go and tell them what I said--it's not to get about. Go at once, +Burlacombe. + +BURLACOMBE. Must be a turrable job for 'im, every one's knowin' +about 'is wife like this. He'm a proud man tu, I think. 'Tes a +funny business altogether! + +MRS. BRADMERE. Horrible! Poor fellow! Now, come! Do your best, +Burlacombe! + + [BURLACOMBE touches his forelock and goes. MRS. BRADMERE stands + quite still, thinking. Then going to the photograph, she stares + up at it.] + +MRS. BRADMERE. You baggage! + + [STRANGWAY has come in noiselessly, and is standing just behind + her. She turns, and sees him. There is something so still, so + startlingly still in his figure and white face, that she cannot + for the moment fond her voice.] + +MRS. BRADMERE. [At last] This is most distressing. I'm deeply +sorry. [Then, as he does not answer, she goes a step closer] I'm an +old woman; and old women must take liberties, you know, or they +couldn't get on at all. Come now! Let's try and talk it over calmly +and see if we can't put things right. + +STRANGWAY. You were very good to come; but I would rather not. + +MRS. BRADMERE. I know you're in as grievous trouble as a man can be. + +STRANGWAY. Yes. + +MRS. BRADMERE. [With a little sound of sympathy] What are you-- +thirty-five? I'm sixty-eight if I'm a day--old enough to be your +mother. I can feel what you must have been through all these months, +I can indeed. But you know you've gone the wrong way to work. We +aren't angels down here below! And a son of the Church can't act as +if for himself alone. The eyes of every one are on him. + +STRANGWAY. [Taking the church key from the window.] Take this, +please. + +MRS. BRADMERE. No, no, no! Jarland deserved all he got. You had +great provocation. + +STRANGWAY. It's not Jarland. [Holding out the key] Please take it +to the Rector. I beg his forgiveness. [Touching his breast] +There's too much I can't speak of--can't make plain. Take it to him, +please. + +MRS. BRADMERE. Mr. Strangway--I don't accept this. I am sure my +husband--the Church--will never accept---- + +STRANGWAY. Take it! + +MRS. BRADMERE. [Almost unconsciously taking it] Mind! We don't +accept it. You must come and talk to the Rector to-morrow. You're +overwrought. You'll see it all in another light, then. + +STRANGWAY. [With a strange smile] Perhaps. [Lifting the blind] +Beautiful night! Couldn't be more beautiful! + +MRS. BRADMERE. [Startled-softly] Don't turn sway from these who +want to help you! I'm a grumpy old woman, but I can feel for you. +Don't try and keep it all back, like this! A woman would cry, and it +would all seem clearer at once. Now won't you let me----? + +STRANGWAY. No one can help, thank you. + +MRS. BRADMERE. Come! Things haven't gone beyond mending, really, if +you'll face them. [Pointing to the photograph] You know what I +mean. We dare not foster immorality. + +STRANGWAY. [Quivering as at a jabbed nerve] Don't speak of that! + +MRS. BRADMERE. But think what you've done, Mr. Strangway! If you +can't take your wife back, surely you must divorce her. You can +never help her to go on like this in secret sin. + +STRANGWAY. Torture her--one way or the other? + +MRS. BRADMERE. No, no; I want you to do as the Church--as all +Christian society would wish. Come! You can't let this go on. My +dear man, do your duty at all costs! + +STRANGWAY. Break her heart? + +MRS. BRADMERE. Then you love that woman--more than God! + +STRANGWAY. [His face quivering] Love! + +MRS. BRADMERE. They told me----Yes, and I can see you're is a bad +way. Come, pull yourself together! You can't defend what you're +doing. + +STRANGWAY. I do not try. + +MRS. BRADMERE. I must get you to see! My father was a clergyman; +I'm married to one; I've two sons in the Church. I know what I'm +talking about. It's a priest's business to guide the people's lives. + +STRANGWAY. [Very low] But not mine! No more! + +MRS. BRADMERE. [Looking at him shrewdly] There's something very +queer about you to-night. You ought to see doctor. + +STRANGWAY. [A smile awning and going on his lips] If I am not better +soon---- + +MRS. BRADMERE. I know it must be terrible to feel that everybody---- + + [A convulsive shiver passes over STRANGWAY, and he shrinks + against the door] + +But come! Live it down! + + [With anger growing at his silence] + +Live it down, man! You can't desert your post--and let these +villagers do what they like with us? Do you realize that you're +letting a woman, who has treated you abominably;--yes, abominably +--go scot-free, to live comfortably with another man? What an +example! + +STRANGWAY. Will you, please, not speak of that! + +MRS. BRADMERE. I must! This great Church of ours is based on the +rightful condemnation of wrongdoing. There are times when +forgiveness is a sin, Michael Strangway. You must keep the whip +hand. You must fight! + +STRANGWAY. Fight! [Touching his heart] My fight is here. Have you +ever been in hell? For months and months--burned and longed; hoped +against hope; killed a man in thought day by day? Never rested, for +love and hate? I--condemn! I--judge! No! It's rest I have to +find--somewhere--somehow-rest! And how--how can I find rest? + +MRS. BRADMERE. [Who has listened to his outburst in a soft of coma] +You are a strange man! One of these days you'll go off your head if +you don't take care. + +STRANGWAY. [Smiling] One of these days the flowers will grow out of +me; and I shall sleep. + + [MRS. BRADMERE stares at his smiling face a long moment in + silence, then with a little sound, half sniff, half snort, she + goes to the door. There she halts.] + +MRS. BRADMERE. And you mean to let all this go on----Your wife---- + +STRANGWAY. Go! Please go! + +MRS. BRADMERE. Men like you have been buried at cross-roads before +now! Take care! God punishes! + +STRANGWAY. Is there a God? + +MRS. BRADMERE. Ah! [With finality] You must see a doctor. + + [Seeing that the look on his face does not change, she opens the + door, and hurries away into the moonlight.] + + [STRANGWAY crosses the room to where his wife's picture hangs, + and stands before it, his hands grasping the frame. Then he + takes it from the wall, and lays it face upwards on the window + seat.] + +STRANGWAY. [To himself] Gone! What is there, now? + + [The sound of an owl's hooting is floating in, and of voices + from the green outside the inn.] + +STRANGWAY. [To himself] Gone! Taken faith--hope--life! + + [JIM BERE comes wandering into the open doorway.] + +JIM BERE. Gude avenin', zurr. + + [At his slow gait, with his feeble smile, he comes in, and + standing by the window-seat beside the long dark coat that still + lies there, he looks down at STRANGWAY with his lost eyes.] + +JIM. Yu threw un out of winder. I cud 'ave, once, I cud. + + [STRANGWAY neither moves nor speaks; and JIM BERE goes on with + his unimaginably slow speech] + +They'm laughin' at yu, zurr. An' so I come to tell 'ee how to du. +'Twas full mune--when I caught 'em, him an' my girl. I caught 'em. +[With a strange and awful flash of fire] I did; an' I tuk un [He +taken up STRANGWAY'S coat and grips it with his trembling hands, as a +man grips another's neck] like that--I tuk un. As the coat falls, +like a body out of which the breath has been squeezed, STRANGWAY, +rising, catches it. + +STRANGWAY. [Gripping the coat] And he fell! + + [He lets the coat fall on the floor, and puts his foot on it. + Then, staggering back, he leans against the window.] + +JIM. Yu see, I loved 'er--I did. [The lost look comes back to his +eyes] Then somethin'--I dunno--and--and----[He lifts his hand and +passes it up and down his side] Twas like this for ever. + + [They gaze at each other in silence.] + +JIM. [At last] I come to tell yu. They'm all laughin' at yu. But +yu'm strong--yu go over to Durford to that doctor man, an' take un +like I did. [He tries again to make the sign of squeezing a man's +neck] They can't laugh at yu no more, then. Tha's what I come to +tell yu. Tha's the way for a Christian man to du. Gude naight, +zurr. I come to tell yee. + + [STRANGWAY motions to him in silence. And, very slowly, JIM + BERE passes out.] + + [The voices of men coming down the green are heard.] + +VOICES. Gude night, Tam. Glide naight, old Jim! + +VOICES. Gude might, Mr. Trustaford. 'Tes a wonderful fine mune. + +VOICE OF TRUSTAFORD. Ah! 'Tes a brave mune for th' poor old curate! + +VOICE. "My 'eart 'E lighted not!" + + [TRUSTAFORD'S laugh, and the rattling, fainter and fainter, of + wheels. A spasm seizes on STRANGWAY'S face, as he stands there + by the open door, his hand grips his throat; he looks from side + to side, as if seeking a way of escape.] + + + CURTAIN. + + + +SCENE II + + The BURLACOMBES' high and nearly empty barn. A lantern is hung + by a rope that lifts the bales of straw, to a long ladder + leaning against a rafter. This gives all the light there is, + save for a slender track of moonlight, slanting in from the end, + where the two great doors are not quite closed. On a rude bench + in front of a few remaining, stacked, square-cut bundles of last + year's hay, sits TIBBY JARLAND, a bit of apple in her mouth, + sleepily beating on a tambourine. With stockinged feet GLADYS, + IVY, CONNIE, and MERCY, TIM CLYST, and BOBBIE JARLAND, a boy of + fifteen, are dancing a truncated "Figure of Eight"; and their + shadow are dancing alongside on the walls. Shoes and some + apples have been thrown down close to the side door through + which they have come in. Now and then IVY, the smallest and + best of the dancers, ejaculates words of direction, and one of + the youths grunts or breathes loudly out of the confusion of his + mind. Save for this and the dumb beat and jingle of the sleepy + tambourine, there is no sound. The dance comes to its end, but + the drowsy TIBBY goes on beating. + +MERCY. That'll du, Tibby; we're finished. Ate yore apple. [The +stolid TIBBY eats her apple.] + +CLYST. [In his teasing, excitable voice] Yu maids don't dance +'elf's well as us du. Bobbie 'e's a great dancer. 'E dance vine. +I'm a gude dancer, meself. + +GLADYS. A'n't yu conceited just? + +CLYST. Aw! Ah! Yu'll give me kiss for that. [He chases, but cannot +catch that slippery white figure] Can't she glimmer! + +MERCY. Gladys! Up ladder! + +CLYST. Yu go up ladder; I'll catch 'ee then. Naw, yu maids, don't +yu give her succour. That's not vair [Catching hold of MERCY, who +gives a little squeal.] + +CONNIE. Mercy, don't! Mrs. Burlacombe'll hear. Ivy, go an' peek. + + [Ivy goes to flee side door and peers through.] + +CLYST. [Abandoning the chase and picking up an apple--they all have +the joyous irresponsibility that attends forbidden doings] Ya-as, +this is a gude apple. Luke at Tibby! + + [TIBBY, overcome by drowsiness, has fallen back into the hay, + asleep. GLADYS, leaning against the hay breaks into humming:] + + "There cam' three dukes a-ridin', a-ridin', a-ridin', + There cam' three dukes a ridin' + With a ransy-tansy tay!" + +CLYST. Us 'as got on vine; us'll get prize for our dancin'. + +CONNIE. There won't be no prize if Mr. Strangway goes away. 'Tes +funny 'twas Mrs. Strangway start us. + +IVY. [From the door] 'Twas wicked to hiss him. + + [A moment's hush.] + +CLYST. Twasn't I. + +BOBBIE. I never did. + +GLADYS. Oh! Bobbie, yu did! Yu blew in my ear. + +CLYST. 'Twas the praaper old wind in the trees. Did make a brave +noise, zurely. + +MERCY. 'E shuld'n' 'a let my skylark go. + +CLYST. [Out of sheer contradictoriness] Ya-as, 'e shude, then. +What du yu want with th' birds of the air? They'm no gude to yu. + +IVY. [Mournfully] And now he's goin' away. + +CLYST. Ya-as; 'tes a pity. He's the best man I ever seen since I +was comin' from my mother. He's a gude man. He'em got a zad face, +sure enough, though. + +IVY. Gude folk always 'ave zad faces. + +CLYST. I knu a gude man--'e sold pigs--very gude man: 'e 'ad a +budiful bright vase like the mane. [Touching his stomach] I was sad, +meself, once. 'Twas a funny scrabblin'--like feelin'. + +GLADYS. If 'e go away, whu's goin' to finish us for confirmation? + +CONNIE. The Rector and the old grey mare. + +MERCY. I don' want no more finishin'; I'm confirmed enough. + +CLYST. Ya-as; yu'm a buty. + +GLADYS. Suppose we all went an' asked 'im not to go? + +IVY. 'Twouldn't be no gude. + +CONNIE. Where's 'e goin'? + +MERCY. He'll go to London, of course. + +IVY. He's so gentle; I think 'e'll go to an island, where there's +nothin' but birds and beasts and flowers. + +CLYST. Aye! He'm awful fond o' the dumb things. + +IVY. They're kind and peaceful; that's why. + +CLYST. Aw! Yu see tu praaper old tom cats; they'm not to peaceful, +after that, nor kind naighther. + +BOBBIE. [Surprisingly] If 'e's sad, per'aps 'e'll go to 'Eaven. + +IVY. Oh! not yet, Bobbie. He's tu young. + +CLYST. [Following his own thoughts] Ya-as. 'Tes a funny place, tu, +nowadays, judgin' from the papers. + +GLADYS. Wonder if there's dancin' in 'Eaven? + +IVY. There's beasts, and flowers, and waters, and 'e told us. + +CLYST. Naw! There's no dumb things in 'Eaven. Jim Bere 'e says +there is! 'E thinks 'is old cat's there. + +IVY. Yes. [Dreamily] There's stars, an' owls, an' a man playin' on +the flute. Where 'tes gude, there must be music. + +CLYST. Old brass band, shuldn' wonder, like th' Salvation Army. + +IVY. [Putting up her hands to an imaginary pipe] No; 'tis a boy +that goes so; an' all the dumb things an' all the people goo after +'im--like this. + + [She marches slowly, playing her imaginary pipe, and one by one + they all fall in behind her, padding round the barn in their + stockinged feet. Passing the big doors, IVY throws them open.] + +An' 'tes all like that in 'Eaven. + + [She stands there gazing out, still playing on her imaginary + pipe. And they all stand a moment silent, staring into the + moonlight.] + +CLYST. 'Tes a glory-be full mune to-night! + +IVY. A goldie-cup--a big one. An' millions o' little goldie-cups on +the floor of 'Eaven. + +MERCY. Oh! Bother 'Eaven! Let's dance "Clapperclaws"! Wake up, +Tibby! + +GLADYS. Clapperelaws, clapperclaws! Come on, Bobbie--make circle! + +CLYST. Clapperclaws! I dance that one fine. + +IVY. [Taking the tambourine] See, Tibby; like this. She hums and +beats gently, then restores the tambourine to the sleepy TIBBY, who, +waking, has placed a piece of apple in her mouth. + +CONNIE. 'Tes awful difficult, this one. + +IVY. [Illustrating] No; yu just jump, an' clap yore 'ands. Lovely, +lovely! + +CLYST. Like ringin' bells! Come ahn! + + [TIBBY begins her drowsy beating, IVY hums the tune; they dance, + and their shadows dance again upon the walls. When she has + beaten but a few moments on the tambourine, TIBBY is overcome + once more by sleep and falls back again into her nest of hay, + with her little shoed feet just visible over the edge of the + bench. Ivy catches up the tambourine, and to her beating and + humming the dancers dance on.] + + [Suddenly GLADYS stops like a wild animal surprised, and cranes + her neck towards the aide door.] + +CONNIE. [Whispering] What is it? + +GLADYS. [Whispering] I hear--some one comin' across the yard. + + [She leads a noiseless scamper towards the shoes. BOBBIE + JARLAND shins up the ladder and seizes the lantern. Ivy drops + the tambourine. They all fly to the big doors, and vanish into + the moonlight, pulling the door nearly to again after them.] + + [There is the sound of scrabbling at the hitch of the side door, + and STRANGWAY comes into the nearly dark barn. Out in the night + the owl is still hooting. He closes the door, and that sound is + lost. Like a man walking in his sleep, he goes up to the + ladder, takes the rope in his hand, and makes a noose. He can + be heard breathing, and in the darkness the motions of his hands + are dimly seen, freeing his throat and putting the noose round + his neck. He stands swaying to and fro at the foot of the + ladder; then, with a sigh, sets his foot on it to mount. One of + the big doors creaks and opens in the wind, letting in a broad + path of moonlight.] + + [STRANGWAY stops; freeing his neck from the noose, he walks + quickly up the track of moonlight, whitened from head to foot, + to close the doors.] + + [The sound of his boots on the bare floor has awakened TIBBY + JARLAND. Struggling out of her hay nest she stands staring at + his whitened figure, and bursts suddenly into a wail.] + +TIBBY. O-oh! Mercy! Where are yu? I'm frightened! I'm +frightened! O-oooo! + +STRANGWAY. [Turning--startled] Who's that? Who is it? + +TIBBY. O-oh! A ghosty! Oo-ooo! + +STRANGWAY. [Going to her quickly] It's me, Tibby--Tib only me! + +TIBBY. I seed a ghosty. + +STRANGWAY. [Taking her up] No, no, my bird, you didn't! It was +me. + +TIBBY. [Burying her face against him] I'm frighted. It was a big +one. [She gives tongue again] O-o-oh! + +STRANGWAY. There, there! It's nothing but me. Look! + +TIBBY. No. [She peeps out all the same.] + +STRANGWAY. See! It's the moonlight made me all white. See! You're +a brave girl now? + +TIBBY. [Cautiously] I want my apple. + + [She points towards her nest. STRANGWAY carries her there, + picks up an apple, and gives it her. TIBBY takes a bite.] + +TIBBY. I want any tambourine. + +STRANGWAY. [Giving her the tambourine, and carrying her back into +the' track of moonlight] Now we're both ghosties! Isn't it funny? + +TABBY. [Doubtfully] Yes. + +STRANGWAY. See! The moon's laughing at us! See? Laugh then! + + [TABBY, tambourine in one hand and apple in the other, smiles + stolidly. He sets her down on the ladder, and stands, holding + her level With him.] + +TABBY. [Solemnly] I'se still frightened. + +STRANGWAY. No! Full moon, Tibby! Shall we wish for it? + +TABBY. Full mune. + +STRANGWAY. Moon! We're wishing for you. Moon, moon! + +TIBBY. Mune, we're wishin' for yu! + +STRANGWAY. What do, you wish it to be? + +TIBBY. Bright new shillin'! + +STRANGWAY. A face. + +TIBBY. Shillin', a shillin'! + +STRANGWAY. [Taking out a shilling and spinning it so that it falls +into her pinafore] See! Your wish comes true. + +TIBBY. Oh! [Putting the shilling in her mouth] Mune's still there! + +STRANGWAY. Wish for me, Tibby! + +TIBBY. Mune. I'm wishin' for yu! + +STRANGWAY. Not yet! + +TIBBY. Shall I shake my tambouline? + +STRANGWAY. Yes, shake your tambouline. + +TIBBY. [Shaking her tambourine] Mune, I'm shaken' at yu. + + [STRANGWAY lays his hand suddenly on the rope, and swings it up + on to the beam.] + +TIBBY. What d'yu du that for? + +STRANGWAY. To put it out of reach. It's better---- + +TIBBY. Why is it better? [She stares up at him.] + +STRANGWAY. Come along, Tibby! [He carries her to the big doors, and +sets her down] See! All asleep! The birds, and the fields, and the +moon! + +TIBBY. Mune, mune, we're wishing for yu! + +STRANGWAY. Send her your love, and say good-night. + +TIBBY. [Blowing a kiss] Good-night, mune! + + [From the barn roof a little white dove's feather comes floating + down in the wind. TIBBY follows it with her hand, catches it, + and holds it up to him.] + +TIBBY. [Chuckling] Luke. The mune's sent a bit o' love! + +STRANGWAY. [Taking the feather] Thank you, Tibby! I want that bit +o' love. [Very faint, comes the sound of music] Listen! + +TIBBY. It's Miss Willis, playin' on the pianny! + +STRANGWAY. No; it's Love; walking and talking in the world. + +TIBBY. [Dubiously] Is it? + +STRANGWAY. [Pointing] See! Everything coming out to listen! See +them, Tibby! All the little things with pointed ears, children, and +birds, and flowers, and bunnies; and the bright rocks, and--men! +Hear their hearts beating! And the wind listening! + +TIBBY. I can't hear--nor I can't see! + +STRANGWAY. Beyond----[To himself] They are--they must be; I swear +they are! [Then, catching sight of TIBBY'S amazed eyes] And now say +good-bye to me. + +TIBBY. Where yu goin'? + +STRANGWAY. I don't know, Tibby. + +VOICE OF MERCY. [Distant and cautious] Tibby! Tibby! Where are +yu? + +STRANGWAY. Mercy calling; run to her! + + [TIBBY starts off, turns back and lifts her face. He bends to + kiss her, and flinging her arms round his neck, she gives him a + good hug. Then, knuckling the sleep out of her eyes, she runs.] + + [STRANGWAY stands, uncertain. There is a sound of heavy + footsteps; a man clears his throat, close by.] + +STRANGWAY. Who's that? + +CREMER. Jack Cremer. [The big man's figure appears out of the +shadow of the barn] That yu, zurr? + +STRANGWAY. Yes, Jack. How goes it? + +CREMER. 'Tes empty, zurr. But I'll get on some'ow. + +STRANGWAY. You put me to shame. + +CREMER. No, zurr. I'd be killin' meself, if I didn' feel I must +stick it, like yu zaid. + + [They stand gazing at each other in the moonlight.] + +STRANGWAY. [Very low] I honour you. + +CREMER. What's that? [Then, as STRANGWAY does not answer] I'll +just be walkin'--I won' be gain' 'ome to-night. 'Tes the full mune-- +lucky. + +STRANGWAY. [Suddenly] Wait for me at the crossroads, Jack. I'll +come with you. Will you have me, brother? + +CREMER. Sure! + +STRANGWAY. Wait, then. + +CREMER. Aye, zurr. + + [With his heavy tread CREMER passes on. And STRANGWAY leans + against the lintel of the door, looking at the moon, that, quite + full and golden, hangs not far above the straight horizon, where + the trees stand small, in a row.] + +STRANGWAY. [Lifting his hand in the gesture of prayer] God, of the +moon and the sun; of joy and beauty, of loneliness and sorrow--give +me strength to go on, till I love every living thing! + + [He moves away, following JACK CREMER. The full moon shines; + the owl hoots; and some one is shaking TIBBY'S tambourine.] + + + + + + End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of A Bit O' Love (Fourth Series Plays) + by John Galsworthy + + *** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A BIT O' LOVE (FOURTH SERIES *** + + ***** This file should be named 2915.txt or 2915.zip ***** + This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/2/9/1/2915/ + + Produced by David Widger + + Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions + will be renamed. + + Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no + one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation + (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without + permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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