SCENE.--_The Vicarage parlour, as in first act. Morning. Enter
MICHAEL, haggard, troubled, with self-absorbed expression, the
expression of a man trying to realize that he has committed a great
and irrevocable sin; he stands for some moments helpless, dreamy, as
if unconscious of his whereabouts; then looks round; his eyes fall
upon his mother's picture, he shudders a little, shows intense pain.
At length he goes up the steps, takes the picture down, places it on
the floor with its face against the wall, carefully avoiding all the
while to look at it. He then moves to table in the same dreamy,
helpless, self-absorbed state, sits, looks in front of him. Enter
ANDREW, comes up behind him._
MICH. Oh, Andrew---- Well?
ANDR. (_coming up to him_). I want to consult you on that passage in
the Arabic--if you can spare the time.
MICH. Bring the manuscripts here. (_MICHAEL unconsciously looks at his
hands._) What are you looking at?
ANDR. Nothing. Your hands are blistered?
MICH. I did a little rowing--the other day. Bring the manuscripts.
(_ANDREW goes to door._)
MICH. Andrew--(ANDREW _stops_)--I was very restless--did you hear me
stirring in the night?
ANDR. Stirring?
MICH. Yes, I couldn't sleep. I got up about one and went out--walked
about for some hours--it was nearly light when I came in again. Did
you hear me?
ANDR. (_pauses, then answers_). No.
(_Is about to go off at right door when FANNY enters left. He stops._)
FANNY. Mrs. Lesden wishes to see you for a minute or two about one of
her cottagers.
(_ANDREW watches MICHAEL keenly, but unobtrusively._)
MICH. (_after a little start of surprise, in a tone of affected
carelessness_). Show her in.
(_Exit ANDREW, right. Exit FANNY, left. MICHAEL rises, shows great
perturbation, walks about, watches the door for her entrance._)
_Re-enter FANNY, left, showing in AUDRIE._
FANNY. Mrs. Lesden.
(_Exit FANNY. MICHAEL and AUDRIE stand looking at each other for some
seconds; then he goes to her, takes her hand, kisses it with great
reverence, motions her to a chair; she sits. He holds out to her the
palms of his hands with a rueful smile, shows they are much blistered
as if with rowing._)
AUDR. Poor hands!
MICH. I'm not used to rowing.
(_Pause._)
AUDR. I didn't thank you.
MICH. Thank me!
AUDR. (_pause_). Wasn't it a terrible voyage, terrible and delightful?
But we ought to have been drowned together!
MICH. Oh, don't say that--in sin! To be lost in sin!
AUDR. I'd rather be lost with you than saved with anyone else.
MICH. You mustn't speak like this----
AUDR. It won't be right, you know, unless we are lost or saved
together, will it?
MICH. Hush! Hush!
(_Pause._)
AUDR. You're sorry?
MICH. No. And you?
AUDR. No. Is all safe, do you think?
MICH. Yes, I believe so.
AUDR. Didn't that strange secretary of yours think it curious that you
came back on Thursday instead of Saturday?
MICH. No. I explained that when Withycombe brought me your telegram I
thought it better to return at once in case you had started to come,
and had been somehow lost.
AUDR. Let us go carefully through it all as it happened, to make sure.
To-day is Friday. On Wednesday I telegraphed to Withycombe to be at
the landing-place at Saint Decuman's with a boat at six o'clock in the
evening to bring me back home from there.
MICH. Yes.
AUDR. But being a strange creature and quite unaccountable for my
actions, I changed my mind, and instead of coming to Saint Decuman's I
went up to London, stayed there all day yesterday, and returned by the
night mail, reaching home at seven this morning.
MICH. Yes.
AUDR. Meantime Withycombe has gone to Saint Margaret's with your
uncle, stays there Wednesday night and does not get my telegram till
his return home yesterday afternoon. He consults my servants, who know
nothing of my whereabouts, consults Mr. Gibbard, who advises him to go
to Saint Decuman's and see if I am there. He reaches Saint Decuman's
last evening. You are surprised when he shows you the telegram--you
explain that I am not there, that I have not been there, that you've
seen nothing of me. (_Very tenderly._) Dear, I felt so sorry for you
when I heard you blundering and stammering through your tale to
Withycombe.
MICH. Why?
AUDR. I knew the pain and shame it caused you to say what wasn't true.
I wished I could have told all the lies for you.
MICH. No, no. Isn't the truth dear to you?
AUDR. Not in comparison with you. Besides, I shall be let off my fibs
and little sins very cheaply, much more cheaply than you'll be, great
serious person.
MICH. You grieve me to the heart when you speak like this----
AUDR. (_penitent_). I won't! I won't! I'll be very good and quite
serious. Where were we? Well, you explain to Withycombe that I have
never been to Saint Decuman's, and at the same time you also change
your mind and return with him last evening instead of staying till
Saturday.
MICH. You've seen Withycombe and told him you went to London?
AUDR. Yes.
MICH. He suspects nothing?
AUDR. No, I made it all quite clear to him.
MICH. And your servants?
AUDR. They're used to my absences. They think nothing of it.
MICH. Then all is safe. The matter will never be heard of
again--except----
AUDR. Except?
MICH. In our two hearts, and in the High Court where such cases are
tried.
(_With an inclination of the head and finger towards heaven._)
AUDR. Don't preach, and--don't regret.
MICH. I won't--only how strange it all is!
AUDR. What?
MICH. (_quiet, calm voice throughout, smiling a little_). How men try
to make their religion square with their practice! I was hard, cruelly
hard, on that poor little girl of Andrew's. I was sure it was for the
good of her soul that she should stand up and confess in public. But
now it comes to my own self, I make excuses; I hide, and cloak, and
equivocate, and lie--what a hypocrite I am!
AUDR. Ah, you're sorry!
MICH. No, I'm strangely happy and--dazed. I feel nothing, except my
great joy, and a curious bitter amusement in tracing it all out.
AUDR. Tracing what out?
MICH. The hundred little chances, accidents as we call them, that gave
us to each other. Everything I did to avoid you threw me at your feet.
I felt myself beginning to love you. I wrote urgently to Uncle Ned in
Italy, thinking I'd tell him and that he would save me. He came--I
couldn't tell him of you, but his coming kept Withycombe from getting
your telegram. I went to Saint Decuman's to escape from you. You were
moved to come to me. I sent away my own boat to put the sea between
us; and so I imprisoned you with me. Six years ago I used all my
influence to have the new lighthouse built on Saint Margaret's Isle
instead of Saint Decuman's, so that I might keep Saint Decuman's
lonely for myself and prayer. I kept it lonely for myself and _you._
It was what we call a chance I didn't go to Saint Margaret's with
Andrew and my uncle. It was what we call a chance that you telegraphed
to my boatman instead of your own. If any one thing had gone
differently----
AUDR. (_shaking her head_). We couldn't have missed each other in this
world. It's no use blaming chance or fate, or whatever it is.
MICH. I blame nothing. I am too happy. Besides, Chance? Fate? I had
the mastery of all these things. They couldn't have conquered me if my
own heart hadn't first yielded. You mustn't stay here. (_Turning
towards her with great tenderness._) Oh, I'm glad that no stain rests
upon you through me----
AUDR. Don't trouble about me. I have been thinking of you. Your
character?
MICH. My character! My character! My character!
AUDR. (_glances up at the place where the portrait had hung_). Where
is she?
(_He points to the picture on the floor._)
MICH. I daren't look at her. I must hide it until----
AUDR. Until?
MICH. Until we have done what we can to atone for this.
AUDR. What?
MICH. Repent, confess, submit to any penance that be enjoined us. And
then if and when it shall be permitted us--marriage.
AUDR. Marriage?
MICH. Retirement from all who know us, and lifelong consecration of
ourselves to poverty and good works, so that at the last we may
perhaps win forgiveness for what we have done.
AUDR. Marriage?
_Re-enter ANDREW with manuscripts._
ANDR. I beg pardon. I thought Mrs. Lesden had gone. (_Puts manuscripts
on table and is going off._)
AUDR. I am just going, Mr. Gibbard.
ANDR. (_turns and speaks to her_). I met a stranger on the beach
yesterday evening. He inquired for you and the way to your house.
AUDR. Indeed.
ANDR. He asked a great many questions about you.
AUDR. What questions?
ANDR. How you lived in this quiet place, and who were your friends,
and where you were yesterday.
AUDR. Did he give his name?
ANDR. I didn't ask for it. I suppose he's staying in the place. I saw
him at the door of the George later in the evening.
AUDR. One of my London friends, I suppose. What did you reply to his
questions?
ANDR. I told him Mr. Feversham was one of your friends, but as I
didn't know where you were yesterday, of course I couldn't tell him,
could I?
(_Looks at her, exit._)
AUDR. Did you notice that?
MICH. Notice what?
AUDR. The look that man gave me as he went out. Does he suspect us?
MICH. Impossible.
AUDR. I feel sure he does. Send for him and question him at once. I'll
go.
_Enter FANNY with a letter._
FANNY. For you, ma'am.
(_Giving letter to AUDRIE, who glances at it, shows a sharp,
frightened surprise, instantly concealed, and then stands
motionless._)
FANNY. The gentleman's waiting for an answer.
AUDR. (_very quiet, cold voice_). I'll come at once.
(_Exit FANNY._)
MICH. What's the matter?
AUDR. Nothing. Question that man. Find out if he knows anything. I'll
come back as soon as I can.
(_Exit, without opening letter._)
MICH. (_follows her to door, closes it after her, then goes to right
door, calls_). Andrew.
_Re-enter ANDREW._
MICH. What is this passage you're in difficulty about?
ANDR. (_comes to him with old manuscripts_). What's the matter?
MICH. My head is dizzy this morning.
ANDR. Didn't you say you couldn't sleep?
MICH. What time did you get back from Saint Margaret's yesterday?
ANDR. About twelve.
MICH. You saw my uncle off by the afternoon train?
ANDR. Yes.
MICH. And then? (_ANDREW does not reply._) You were surprised to find
me coming back with Withycombe instead of staying till Saturday?
ANDR. No.
MICH. Withycombe's message about the telegram a little disturbed me.
(_A little pause, watching ANDREW._) I thought perhaps Mrs. Lesden
might have started to come to Saint Decuman's (_pause, still watching
ANDREW_), and been lost on the way.
ANDR. Did you?
MICH. She is such a strange, flighty creature, that I should scarcely
be surprised at anything she took it into her head to do.
ANDR. (_looking him full in the face_). She went up to London, didn't
she?
MICH. (_wincing a little_). Yes.
ANDR. And came back through the night by the mail?
MICH. Yes. Why do you look at me like that?
ANDR. I beg your pardon. Is there any other question you'd like to ask
me?
MICH. Question? About what?
ANDR. About Mrs. Lesden--or anything that's troubling you.
MICH. Troubling me? I'm not troubled about anything.
ANDR. Oh! I thought perhaps you were. (_Going._)
MICH. Andrew. (_ANDREW stops._) I've been thinking about--about Rose.
ANDR. Have you?
MICH. Perhaps I was wrong in urging her to confess.
ANDR. It isn't much good thinking that now, is it?
MICH. No, except to ask you to forgive me, and to say that you don't
cherish any ill-feeling against me on that account.
ANDR. I forgive you, and I don't cherish any ill-feeling against you
on that or any account.
MICH. I may trust you entirely, Andrew?
ANDR. If you doubt it--try me.
MICH. Try you?
ANDR. Didn't I tell you to ask me any question you like?
MICH. (_alarmed_). What do you mean? (_Pause, looks at ANDREW._)
Enough. I trust you absolutely--(_looks at him_)--in everything.
ANDR. You may.
(_Is again going._)
MICH. No, Andrew, nothing has occurred--I was afraid--it seemed so
strange--this telegram business. What are you thinking about me?
ANDR. Take care, sir. Don't betray yourself to anybody but me.
MICH. Betray myself?
ANDR. You're a worse bungler at lying than I was. Don't look like
that, or other people will guess. Don't give way. You're safe. Nobody
but me suspects anything. Your character is quite safe--her character
is quite safe. They're both in my keeping.
MICH. (_stares helplessly at him_). How did you know?
ANDR. I've suspected for some time past----
MICH. You were wrong. There was nothing to suspect. It was a chance,
an accident--there was no intention to deceive. What made you guess?
ANDR. When Withycombe brought the telegram to me I guessed something
was wrong. I heard you go out in the middle of the night. I followed
you down to the beach; I saw you put off; I waited for you to come
back. I was on the top of the cliff just above you when you landed
with her. I saw you come on here, and I watched her take the road to
the station, and saw her come back to her home as if she had come in
by the early morning train.
MICH. What are you going to do?
ANDR. Nothing. Don't I owe everything I am and everything I have in
this world to you? I shall never breathe a word of what I know to a
living soul.
MICH. Thank you, Andrew. Thank you. And you'll be sure above all that
she is safe----
ANDR. As safe as if I were in the grave. You go your way, just the
same as if I didn't know.
MICH. Andrew.
ANDR. (_comes back_). Sir----
MICH. (_breaking down_). I was harsh and cruel to Rose. I punished her
more than she deserved. I was a hard, self-righteous priest! I hadn't
been tempted myself then. Send for her to come home again! Comfort her
and give her the best place in your heart. Write at once. Let her come
back to-morrow! Oh, what weak, wretched Pharisees we are! What masks
of holiness we wear! What whited sepulchres we are! Send for her! Make
up to her for all she has suffered! Let me ask her pardon! Oh, Andrew,
have pity on me! Forgive me, forgive me!
(_Bending his head in tears. ANDREW steals out of the room. A long
pause. AUDRIE appears at window in the same place as in Act I., looks
in, sees him, taps the window, he goes up to it._)
AUDR. Let me in. Quickly. I want to speak to you.
(_He goes to door, opens it; a moment later she enters._)
MICH. Well?
AUDR. Why didn't you take my warning? Why didn't you beat me, drive
me, hound me away from you as I told you?
MICH. What now?
AUDR. Say you'll forgive me before I tell you! No, don't forgive me!
MICH. I don't understand you. Is anything discovered?
AUDR. What does that matter? Oh, don't hate me. If you say one unkind
word to me I shall kill myself. Read the letter which came here to me
just now.
(_He takes the letter wonderingly._)
MICH. Whom did it come from?
AUDR. My husband.
MICH. Your husband? (_She nods._) Your husband! He is alive?
(_She nods._)
AUDR. (_with a laugh_). Didn't I tell you I should ruin you body and
soul? (_He stands overwhelmed._) Why do you stand there? Why don't you
do something? (_Laughing at him._) I say, ghostly father, we make a
pretty pair, you and I, don't we? What shall we do? Confess in white
sheets and candles together, you and I? Why don't you do
something--(_Laughing at him._) And you stand there like a stone
saint. (_Comes up to him._) Kill me and have done with me!
MICH. You said your husband died after two years.
AUDR. I said I never saw him again--alive. I thought then that I never
should.
MICH. But--you believed he was dead. You believed he was dead--(_She
does not reply._) You didn't know the night before last that your
husband was living?
AUDR. Don't I tell you to kill me and have done with it.
MICH. (_horrified_). You knew he was living?
AUDR. (_very imploringly_). I love you, I love you. Say one word to
me! Say one word to me! Say you forgive me.
MICH. I forgive you. (_Stands overwhelmed._) Take this letter----
(_Offering it._)
AUDR. I didn't mean to do this. Do make excuses for me. We lived
unhappily together. When I came into all my money I bargained with him
that we would never see each other again. It was a fair bargain--a
contract. He went away to America--I gave out he was dead. From that
time to this I have never had a thought of his return. He was dead to
me. He has no right to come and spoil my life. Read that letter from
him.
MICH. No--take it.
(_Gives the letter back._)
AUDR. Tell me what to do.
MICH. I'm not fit to advise you.
AUDR. What can we do?
MICH. I don't know. We're up a blind alley with our sin. There's no
way out of this.
AUDR. I shall defy him.
MICH. No.
AUDR. Yes. A bargain's a bargain. I shall go back and defy him. I'll
never see him again. But then--what then? What will you do?
MICH. Don't think of me.
AUDR. Speak to me. Say one word. Oh, it has been on the tip of my
tongue so many times to tell you all, but I couldn't bear to lose your
love, so I deceived you. (_He walks about perplexed. She goes to him
very gently and coaxingly._) Say you aren't sorry--say that deep down
in your inmost heart you aren't sorry for what is past!
MICH. Sorry? No. God forgive me. I'm not sorry. I can't be sorry. I
wish I could.
AUDR. (_coming to him_). Ah, now I know you love me! If you only dare
be as bold as I dare----
MICH. Bold?
AUDR. We love each other. Our loves and lives are in our own hands.
MICH. (_repulses her, braces himself to stern resolve, very coldly and
commandingly_). Listen! These are perhaps the last words I shall ever
speak to you. The past is past. There's no way out of that. But the
future is in our power. Can't you see, woman, that we are half-way
down the precipice? We'll go no further. From this moment we part; I
toil back to repentance and peace one way, you toil back another. So
far as God will give me grace I'll never think of you from this
moment--I'll spend all my life in putting a gulf between you and me.
You do the same--ask only one thing for yourself and me, that we may
forget each other.
AUDR. (_looks at him, smiles, sighs, then as she is going off_). I was
right about man's love. You are all cowards. There's not one of you
that doesn't think first of his comfort, or his pocket, or his honour,
or his skin, or his soul, and second of the woman he thinks he loves.
Forget you? (_A little laugh._) Do you think that possible? Do you
think I was jesting with you when I gave myself to you? Forget you?
(_A little laugh._) My memory is good for such trifles. Forget you?
MICH. (_with a wild revulsion_). Oh, take me where you will! I have no
guide but you! Heaven, hell, wherever you go, I shall follow. Be sure
of that. But won't you be my better angel, now I've lost her: If you
love me as you say, you can yet be the master influence of my life,
you can yet save yourself through me, and me through you. Won't you
make our love a monument for good? Dearest of all, I'm at your feet--I
think you come from heaven, and I'm all obedience to you. You are my
angel. Lead me--Lead me, not back to sin--Lead me towards heaven--You
can even now!
AUDR. What do you wish me to do?
MICH. Go back to your duty and to deep repentance. Have strength,
dearest. These are not idle words--duty, purity, holiness. They mean
something. Love is nothing without them. Have courage to tread the
hard road. Leave me.
AUDR. If I leave you now, shall we meet one day--hereafter?
MICH. Yes.
AUDR. You're sure? You do believe it?
MICH. With all my heart.
AUDR. And you'll stay here and carry on your work, restore the
Minster, and let me think that I'm helping you.
MICH. I can't do that now.
AUDR. Yes.
MICH. No.
AUDR. Yes.
MICH. But with that money--your money!
AUDR. Many churches are built with sinners' money. Do this for me.
MICH. If I dared--if it would come to good.--You know how dear a hope
it has been to me all my life through.
AUDR. Do it, because I ask it. You will?
MICH. And you'll leave me, leave this place, because I ask it. You
will?
AUDR. I love you. I obey you.
(_She comes to him._)
MICH. No, I daren't come near to you. You'll go?
(_He opens the door; she passes out; re-enters._)
AUDR. Listen to this. Whatever happens, I shall never belong to
anybody but you. You understand? (_MICHAEL bows his head._) I shall
never belong to anybody but you, Mike.
(_She goes out again. He closes door, goes up to window. She passes.
He watches her off, stays there some moments._)
_Re-enter ANDREW. MICHAEL comes from window; the two men stand looking
at each other._
ANDR. You won't begin work this morning, I suppose?
MICH. (_firmly_). Yes. (_Goes to table, motions ANDREW to one chair,
seats himself opposite. They take up the manuscripts._) Where is the
place?
ANDR. Fifty-first psalm, verse three. (_MICHAEL winces, turns over the
manuscript._) Have you found it? What are you looking at?
MICH. (_gets up suddenly_). I can't bear it.
ANDR. Can't bear what?
(_MICHAEL stands looking at him with terror._)
ANDR. (_rises, comes to him_). Don't I tell you that all is safe. I
shan't blab. Nobody shall ever know.
MICH. But _you_ know!
ANDR. I shall never remind you of it.
MICH. But you do, you do! Your presence reminds me.
ANDR. Shall I leave you now and come again by-and-by?
MICH. (_with an effort_). No, stay. (_Points to seat. ANDREW seats
himself._) You've sent for Rose to come home?
ANDR. No.
MICH. No?
ANDR. I don't want to have her in this place where everybody knows
about her.
MICH. Won't you send for her, Andrew--to please me?
ANDR. She's well enough where she is. (_Pointing to the manuscripts._)
Shall we go on?
MICH. What ought I to do, Andrew?
ANDR. Don't you know what you ought to do?
MICH. What?
ANDR. Mete out to yourself the same measure you meted to others.
MICH. Confess--in public. I can't! I can't! I daren't! I'm a coward, a
weak miserable coward! Don't judge me harshly, Andrew! Don't be hard
on me!
(_Covering his face with his hands._)
ANDR. (_cold, firm_). Come, sir! shall we get on with our work?
(_Reading manuscript._) "For I acknowledge my transgressions, and my
sin is ever before me."
(_MICHAEL uncovers his face and sits staring at ANDREW, who sits cold
and grim on the other side of the table._)
_Very slow curtain._
(_A year passes between Acts III. and IV._)