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.]