_controlling her with them, except for sudden outbreaks. Her manner
gradually becomes submissive and dazed, as if she were answering each
question in answer to the outside stimulus, without fully understanding
what she said._
VERA.
Yes.
CARLYON.
Will that be enough?
VERA.
No! It is not safe. Other people here could operate.
CARLYON.
Then what do you advise?
VERA.
I must go with Dr. Rheinhardt to India.
CARLYON.
And then?
VERA.
[_Sweeping her other hand across her brow._] I won't say it. I never
thought of it myself; it is only _your_ thought drilling itself into my
brain!
CARLYON.
You can _help_ Rheinhardt when he operates.
VERA.
They will never let me help.
CARLYON.
Don't you see, if you go to India to nurse him, Rheinhardt will think
you are in love with the man?
VERA.
[_Appealing for mercy._] I believe I was once---- Oh, Father! Father!
CARLYON.
[_Lets her go; moving towards door._] Think of it by yourself. [_Turning
to her._] I leave you your full freedom! [_To himself._] I wish
Elizabeth were here.
VERA.
Oh, don't leave me alone!
CARLYON.
[_Continuing, without regard to her appeal._] Think of it quietly!
[_Exit_ CARLYON, R.
[VERA _follows_ CARLYON _towards the door, then runs to the window and
puts her head out_.
_Enter_ ELIZABETH.
ELIZABETH.
Vera, my eagle is dead! [VERA _silent_.] I felt sure it was coming, he
has been so changed these last days,--he has been afraid of things!
VERA.
[_Looking round for a moment, startled, as if she did not understand._]
Oh, the eagle! [_Leans out again._
ELIZABETH.
Why, childie! Are you crying? What is the matter?
VERA.
Don't mind me, Elizabeth. I feel just like a child crying.
ELIZABETH.
You have been studying too much. That is it!
VERA.
No, I am only left alone.
ELIZABETH.
Why are you alone? You need not be, dear.
[_Goes up and offers_ VERA _her hand_.
VERA.
[_Reaching her hand back to_ ELIZABETH, _without looking in_.] Thank
you, Elizabeth. You are kind to me. But you cannot be any good to me
now.
ELIZABETH.
Very well, my dear. Only you will feel better if you trust somebody. It
is always so.
VERA.
Who is there to trust? I mean to betray some one who trusts me.
ELIZABETH.
My dear, I think you had better come in from that window. [_Turns._]
What can you see to keep you out there?
VERA.
Would you like to know? [ELIZABETH _shows increasing emotion during
this speech of_ VERA'S.] I see a sort of wide bottomless sheet of
water,--it is only the spread of moonlight, you know. A great wide sheet
of water--down there--and there is some one drowning in it. I can see
his two eyes looking up to me from the depths of it, and there are his
hands somewhere reaching out to me for help; and, do you know what,
Elizabeth? I shall reach down and down until I can grip them, and then I
shall hold him under the water till he is cold and dead---- he is cold
already. That is what I see. It isn't a cheerful thing, is it? And
then,--I don't know what it will be then; but now I can only see the
eyes: they are not really like a man's eyes, they are like a child's
eyes full of pain, and--[_turns and looks at_ ELIZABETH]--so trusting
and innocent, like a little child being murdered!
ELIZABETH.
[_With a shriek._] No, no! God help me! Not a child's eyes! Not you too!
Oh, say you don't see them!
VERA.
[_Coming towards her._] Elizabeth! What is it? I have never seen you
like this.
ELIZABETH.
Oh, tell me that you don't see them! It is only to try me. _I_ know they
are there. I see them always. But not you. Not a child's eyes!
VERA.
It was only fancy. It was what I seemed to see in the moonlight on the
mist. It meant nothing.
ELIZABETH.
Has he told you? Why did he do it? Tell me, has he told you? [_Turns and
catches hold of_ VERA.
VERA.
Yes, he has--he has told me----
ELIZABETH.
And you are angry! You can't forgive him! Oh, Vera, you are wrong. Blame
me if you like. I did love the child, but it was I who wished it. Every
woman living would have wished it! [_Sits on settee._
VERA.
I don't understand. Why are you like this?
ELIZABETH.
I was stupid with weeping when he came that night, and he was so brave
and strong. He never feared anything in his life. He called me "Poor
child." "Poor child," he said, "do you know why you are unhappy? Because
you dare not do the thing that your heart is praying for." . . . Then he
took the child out with him and came back alone.
VERA.
What child? Was it his own child? [_Fiercely, starting towards
her._]--Tell me, or I will kill you!--and were you its mother?
ELIZABETH.
I thought he had told you.
VERA.
When was it?
ELIZABETH.
Thirty-four--thirty-five years ago; before he went to India. I loved him
long before your mother did.
VERA.
You say you loved the child. Didn't you hate him for it?
ELIZABETH.
Hate him? No. I was half mad, I think. I used to watch his face. If
there had been a single shadow on it, I think I should have hated him.
But he never changed. He was always untroubled, and his eyes were always
true and fearless! Then I knew he could bear all my burdens, and I need
fear nothing any more.
VERA.
Why did he not marry you?
ELIZABETH.
He told me from the first he would not. I don't suppose he loved me
much; how could he? He was so far above me, so much stronger and wiser.
I got all I wanted afterwards, when he let me come here and look after
you.
VERA.
I don't understand you, Elizabeth. [_Vehemently._] Are you mad, and is
it all untrue?
ELIZABETH.
The baby's eyes haunt me; I dare not look into deep water. But it is
just this that has given me peace.
VERA.
Peace!
ELIZABETH.
It is the want of trust that makes life hard. You cannot be happy
without perfect courage; and you cannot have courage without perfect
strength. He has both; and they are yours if you trust him.
VERA.
Is it possible to trust any one? Suppose he did what you knew was wrong?
ELIZABETH.
How should I know it was wrong? When I have found a man who stands out
above other men, who shrinks from nothing, who is true to himself----
VERA.
[_Shuddering._] But to murder a little thing like that!
ELIZABETH.
It was just the helplessness of the little thing that would have
frightened another man. It must be very hard to murder a child. But
neither strength nor helplessness can frighten him!
VERA.
[_After a pause._] And have you never doubted him?
ELIZABETH.
Vera, how could I doubt? Why, if I had doubted him then I should have
hated him; if I doubted him now I should die! [VERA _shudders_.
VERA.
Shut out that ghastly moonlight! [ELIZABETH _rises and draws the
curtain_. VERA _goes up to her, and they sit together_.] Let me come
closer to you. Tell me it all again.
ELIZABETH.
Tell what again? Poor child, I have suffered all that you have, and
more.
VERA.
Say again: "Your father betrayed me, murdered my child----"
ELIZABETH.
[_Interrupting._] No, he never betrayed me. He did an awful thing for my
sake. He gave me peace.
VERA.
[_Looking at her._] If only one could trust like that!
ELIZABETH.
You can, childie. Think of him as always with you; try to feel him
looking into your heart, commanding----
VERA.
[_Half frightened._] Will that do it? But I am always doing that! I
can't help it!
ELIZABETH.
Then all this storm and suspicion will pass away, and you will be like
me!
VERA.
[_Starting away from her._] Like you! No, not like you! I can't be!
[ELIZABETH _rises and comes down to her_.] Oh, how did you blind
yourself? Has he sucked your heart's blood and left you dead, with no
will, no conscience, no power to think? [_With fury._] Oh, beat him back
from you! Fight him! Fight him!
ELIZABETH.
Child, child! how could one fight him? You don't know what you say!
VERA.
With his own weapons. By lies, pitiless treachery! I have seen him
afraid, Elizabeth! I have seen him afraid! [_Starting nervously._] Ah!
there is his step. Don't let him come! Keep him from me, just for one
moment, Elizabeth! If he speaks to me now I can't think. [_Running to
the window._] Oh! here I can breathe!
[_She stays with her head out of the window as before._
_Enter_ CARLYON.
CARLYON.
[_To_ ELIZABETH.] Why is she there? What have you said?
ELIZABETH.
She is frightened! I thought you had told her.
CARLYON.
You told her _that_! [_Pause._] So much the better. If she understands
one thing she will understand all. [_Cross_ L.] Well, Vera----
ELIZABETH.
[_Reaching across after him._] She understands nothing! Don't trust her!
[CARLYON _utterly disregarding_ ELIZABETH, _and walking up to_ VERA.
CARLYON.
You've had time to think. Is it to be the world or me?
VERA.
[_Turning and coming down to meet him._] I see it all clearly now,
father, and I won't be afraid any more.
END OF THE THIRD ACT.
THE FOURTH ACT
_In front of a Bungalow in the Ghautgherry Hills; the Bungalow with its
veranda occupies the left half of the stage; the rest is Compound, with
thick trees at the right. A door in the centre of the veranda leads into
the house; another, at the left, leads to_ ADENE'S _sick-room. In front,
to the right_, ADENE _is reclining in a long Singapore chair with
cushions. Just above him a table, covered with Bhojalee curiosities
which have just been taken from a box. At the table is_ RHEINHARDT
_seated, looking at the objects. Behind is_ SELIM, _an old native with
one arm, dusting the veranda with a feather mop_.
ADENE _has a Bhojalee belt in his hands, with empty sheath_; RHEINHARDT
_has the knife, and is examining it closely_.
ADENE.
The belt is said to have been Koreb's own. There is nothing particular
about the knife--an ordinary Bhojal kukri.
RHEINHARDT.
[_Holding the knife up for the light to strike its edge._] Do they use
poisoned knives in Bhojal?
ADENE.
They have the secret; but I never heard of its being used in war, except
in the last war, against us. [_He sits up and reaches for the knife,
which_ RHEINHARDT _gives_.] Do you see anything that looks like poison?
RHEINHARDT.
Come, come! [_Presses him down in the chair._] If I let you come outside
the veranda, you must be content to lie still.--Selim, two pegs lower.
[_Holds up two fingers._] And the cushions. [_To_ ADENE, _as_ SELIM
_nods his understanding_.] I never know how much that man understands.
[SELIM _lowers the back of the chair, and rearranges the cushions
tenderly and skilfully. A bell is heard, off._
ADENE.
Oh, he understands most things. [_Exit_ SELIM _up_ C.] You see,
Carlyon's methods at that time had turned them into perfect fiends!
[RHEINHARDT _looks sharply up_.] Well, infected them, we'll say, with
the Carlyon spirit. [RHEINHARDT _continues to look disapprovingly at_
ADENE.] Look here, Rheinhardt, do you think this is a delusion of mine
about Carlyon?
RHEINHARDT.
No.
ADENE.
Then why do you look hurt whenever I refer to the things that I know
about him?
RHEINHARDT.
Sir Carlyon may be the Devil himself; I have in him no interest. It is
only the children of the Devil that I am sorry for.
ADENE.
[_With sudden constraint._] I have never said a word affecting Miss
Carlyon.
RHEINHARDT.
Nor thought a word, eh?
ADENE.
I have no material for thinking about her, one way or the other.
_Re-enter_ SELIM _with letters_.
RHEINHARDT.
I will give you material!
SELIM.
[_Interrupting and laying letters on table in front of_ RHEINHARDT.]
Post!
RHEINHARDT.
[_Taking the letters, while_ ADENE _sits up and looks at them_.] No, you
do not open your letters yet!
ADENE.
Goodness knows I don't want to; unless there is one from my sister----
RHEINHARDT.
[_Reading the addresses._] "An den Herrn Professor Rheinhardt, M.D.,
Ph.D." "Dr. Rheinhardt." [_Stopping and looking again._] Ach! no.
"_Miss_ Rheinhardt." It is for my assistant. [_To_ SELIM.] Here; for the
Mem-sahib!
ADENE.
That is Carlyon's handwriting! [_Rises._
[SELIM, _who has just reached the door, turns suddenly and drops the
letter with signs of fear_. ADENE _crosses towards him_.
SELIM.
Kal[^y]ona Sahib! [_Stands shrinking from the letter._
RHEINHARDT.
What matters it to you whose letter it is? Take it!
SELIM.
[_In terror, catching_ ADENE'S _arm_.] Ai! ai! Sahib.
[_Draws_ ADENE _into the doorway and whispers to him._
ADENE.
Yes, yes, I know; but don't be afraid. [_To_ RHEINHARDT.] It is no good;
he won't touch that letter!
RHEINHARDT.
Won't touch it? Very well, he shall not touch it. [_Takes a plate from
among the curiosities on the table and puts letter upon it._] There;
take it on this. [_Exit_ SELIM _with plate_.] And you, come back! [ADENE
_comes down again to his chair and sits thinking_. RHEINHARDT
_continues_.] Gott in Himmel! so long as it does not touch his skin, so
long it is all right.
[_Laughing._
ADENE.
Rheinhardt, who _is_ this assistant of yours, whom I never see?
RHEINHARDT.
Who my assistant is?--she was a pupil of mine.
ADENE.
If you would allow it, I would like to see her.
RHEINHARDT.
[_After a pause._] Very well; I also wish you to see her. But
[_deliberately_] you have at present no material for thinking about
her--one way or the other. [ADENE _starts_.] I will give you some. When
first I heard of Steinmetz's experimentations, and saw his mistakes, I
said, "If I had the right assistant, I could save Adene." But I had him
not. I wanted--ah, so many things! You will not understand: a doctor who
should be also a nurse, who should know my ways--and more. There was
just one person, but she was just the one person I could not ask. No. I
was too angry.
ADENE.
Then how did she come?
RHEINHARDT.
She came to me herself, suddenly, in London, just as I am starting. She
was all pale, with her eyes--she had had some great struggle.
ADENE.
Her father!
RHEINHARDT.
[_Waving down the interruption._] I know not what it was, but it was
something. And when she entered at the door, I said, "Here it is come at
last; he will be saved!" And he is! [_Rises._] There is your material
for thinking! And if you do not know what she is, all the time you are
unconscious, all the time you are in the dark, there are others who do.
[_Warming up._] There are others who----
ADENE.
Oh, Rheinhardt, let me see her!
RHEINHARDT.
[_Sharply._] You do not deserve to see her. [_With resignation._] Bah!
what does it matter? I will send her to you. [_At door._] Old Rheinhardt
has his work. [_Exit_ RHEINHARDT, _up_.
[ADENE _walks to and fro, thinking_.
_Enter_ SELIM, _and approaches_ ADENE, _who turns away from him,
saying_:
ADENE.
Not now, Selim.
[SELIM _turns back and is going off when his eye rests on the knife; he
hovers over it, but draws back as_ ADENE _turns, and exit_.
VOICE OF RHEINHARDT INSIDE THE HOUSE.
There! He is on the veranda.
[ADENE _goes up to door_ (C.) _with hands outstretched; to him enter_
VERA _and takes both his hands_.
ADENE.
It is really you! [_Leads her down._] And you have been by me all this
time?
VERA.
[_With attempted lightness._] It did seem rather absurd, didn't it? to
keep me away from you, when we were such old friends.
ADENE.
Friends! [_Earnestly._] All the way out to Bhojal there were two
thoughts with me always: "I love Vera Carlyon; I am presently going to
die." I had nothing to give; only a little broken end of life. But I
said, "That at least shall be hers. I will work for her these last
months; I will pile up my little monument to her father's greatness, and
die building it."
VERA.
Go on! You found it was the monument of his shame!
ADENE.
No, no! Not shame: greatness, but greatness so terribly dashed----
VERA.
You can still say that? Oh, thank you, thank you!
ADENE.
Oh, Vera--when the first shock of my discoveries came, it almost
maddened me. I mistrusted every one!
VERA.
I know. I have been through that.
ADENE.
Vera, I mistrusted _you_! [VERA _shrinks_.] I thought you knew the whole
story and tried to screen him.
VERA.
No, not all! Not all!
[_Murmuring to herself, so as scarcely to break his speech._
ADENE.
I gnashed my teeth inwardly and raged against you. [VERA _draws back
from him, shrinking_.] You can't forgive me?
VERA.
I have nothing to forgive.
ADENE.
You see what must come! I shall try to be just to your father--to spare
him; but what good will it be? I shall wound you past all healing!
[_Breaking off._] Oh, why could not this have come to some one who did
not love you? Or at least to some strong man, who could bear it and go
his ways? I, Heaven help me, am a broken, crippled man; I could never
ask for your love as an equal, never hope to make you my wife.
[_Passionately._] But some little corner of your love I must have----
VERA.
[_Kneeling down by his chair, bending slightly over him._] Oh, dearest,
dearest, you are ill and talking wildly! The wound in me is past
healing; but it is _he_, not you, that struck it. How could _I_ ask you
to spare him? I am bound up as one with him. And I claim now that we
shall have our punishment! Dearest, what you thought of me in your anger
was the truth! I did plot to screen him and keep you back. I tried that
day to strike you with despair--to break down your spirit, to----
ADENE.
But you didn't know what he had done! You can't have known.
VERA.
No, I didn't know that, and I didn't know your courage. It was high
above our reach, and we could not break it.--_You_ not a strong man!
_You_ to ask for a corner of my love! It is yours all, long ago. It is
thrown at your feet for you to gather as you will! [_Throws herself down
before him._] The love of one who wronged you, who plotted against you,
who was sent here now to---- [_Breaking off with a paroxysm of
self-abasement._] Oh, _he_, _he_, who knew me, could think I would do
that!
ADENE.
Sent? Did he send you to me? To do what?
[_Preparing to rise._
VERA.
I can't tell you. I have not done it. I have saved you from him.
[ADENE _has risen, and stands sternly thinking_. VERA _is huddled up at
his feet, her face hidden in her hands. After a pause, he looks down at
her, and changes from stern anger to tenderness._
ADENE.
My poor, poor love, let us forget him! [_Sitting and raising her._] Just
for a little, forget him altogether.
VERA.
[_Startled--clutching the letter in her bosom and raising her head._]
You have nearly made me forget everything! [_Rising, smiling through her
tears._] Forget my first business! _I_ can't afford to break down and
let myself be comforted, like another woman!
ADENE.
Why not? [_Tries to detain her._
VOICE OF RHEINHARDT INSIDE THE HOUSE.
Not back yet? It is quite dark. Bring the lamps. And set the punkah
going again.
VERA.
No, no; you are my patient. You mustn't comfort me. You are my sick
child.
_Enter_ RHEINHARDT.
RHEINHARDT.
[_At door._] Hut!--Bah! [_Running forward and seizing_ ADENE'S _pulse_.]
Gott im Himmel! take him in! Take him in! He lies down flat, straight,
this moment, just as he is! [_To_ VERA.] No, not you! Here, Nurse! Take
him in. [_Calling._
VERA.
[_As_ RHEINHARDT _leads_ ADENE _off, after a moment of thought_.] Come
back to me afterwards, Doctor. I want to speak to you.
[_Exeunt_ RHEINHARDT _and_ ADENE _into the sick-room, the_ NURSE
_appearing at_ ADENE'S _door_.
_Enter_ PUNKAH BOY, _and sits in corner_ R., _working punkah_.
_Enter_ SELIM _with a lamp_. VERA _makes room for it on the table among
the curios, then begins to put the curios into their box_.
[_Exit_ SELIM.
_Re-enter_ RHEINHARDT.
VERA.
[_While_ RHEINHARDT _is still at the door_.] I have been so foolish!
Have I done him any real harm?
RHEINHARDT.
Harm? No; it had to come, one way or another. So long as he sleeps!----
VERA.
I have heard from my father. He is coming here.
_Re-enter_ SELIM _with second lamp_.
RHEINHARDT.
Sir Carlyon coming here? When, does he say?
[SELIM _notices and trembles_.
VERA.
[_Looking at letter._] As far as I can judge, he might come to-night.
[SELIM, _listening acutely, trembles violently, clutches the poisoned
knife which is still lying on the table, and glides off rapidly into the
trees_.] That is, if he rides from Johilcund, as he says he will.
RHEINHARDT.
_Ride_ from Johilcund! Gott in Himmel! Let me look. [VERA _gives him the
letter_.] From Bombay. [_Looking at the envelope._] Nineteenth,
twentieth. Ah, yes. He ought to get here to-morrow midday.
VERA.
[_With constraint._] Has Mr. Adene said anything to you about him?
RHEINHARDT.
[_Same manner._] Yes. [_Their eyes meet and then avoid each other._]
There is no need for them to meet. [_Slight pause._] And you--you have
said all your say with Mr. Adene?
VERA.
Yes.
RHEINHARDT.
He is a good man. Yes, he is a brave fellow. That is settled. And old
Rheinhardt will go back to Zuerich, Universitaetstrasse, hundert und
zwoelf; and will grow fat; and will write fat, fat books!
VERA.
[_Tenderly, going up to him._] And save more people's lives, and make
more pupils love him.
RHEINHARDT.
Ach! you say that? We have had a happy time here, we two; two good
companions--_nicht so?_ And it is over. Bah!--it will be there to think
about, in the nights, when it is warm and still like this--and I smoke!
VERA.
Isn't it wonderfully still? You can hear every sound. Hark! there is
some one riding on the road.
[_They listen together for a moment. Then_ RHEINHARDT _looks at her and
says abruptly_:
RHEINHARDT.
Good-night! [_Exit_ RHEINHARDT, _up_.
VERA.
Good-night!
[_She waits listening to the horse hoofs, which are heard more and more
distinctly; then comes the sound of a man dismounting on a stone floor._
VERA _turns to_ PUNKAH BOY, _who is wide awake and listening, and makes
a sign to him. He runs back_ L., _and immediately returns, crying,
"Kal[^y]ona Sahib." Excited whispers of the name are heard, off; then_
CARLYON'S _voice speaking to the servants in Hindustani_.
_Enter_ CARLYON, _from_ L. _back round the house_.
CARLYON.
[_Coming forward impulsively._] Vera, it gives me fresh life to see your
face! [_Kisses her, then throws himself into the chair. She stands
helpless, having stifled her first impulse to run forward and greet
him._] Great Heavens, how tired I am! I have ridden fifty miles since
midday. [_Throwing himself back and stretching his arms out._] Ah, I
suppose I should not have thought much of it once!
VERA.
[_Constrainedly._] Why have you come?
CARLYON.
I thought your heart might fail you. You were all alone.
VERA.
You thought I had been long?
CARLYON.
I was anxious at not hearing from you. I knew it was a heavy burden for
you, and I came to help. Did you need help?
VERA.
None.
[_Pause._ CARLYON _gets up and walks a little way, then turns._
CARLYON.
Then why is it not done?
VERA.
It is done--almost all.
CARLYON.
It is? Oh, thank God! I was so tired! I felt this man as a terror
hanging over me. I seemed like an old man just now, for the first time.
[_Pause; he walks again, then looks at her closely._] You are pale. He
is not actually dead?
VERA.
No, he is not dead.
CARLYON.
You do not like to speak of it? Never mind.--Vera, you have been a good
and brave daughter to me. You have given me rest, the first time in my
life I have ever needed it.
VERA.
There is no rest for you here.
[_She stands leaning backward slightly against the wall, and speaks with
effort, throwing the lamplight full on his face._
CARLYON.
What do you mean? [_Putting up his hand._] Turn off that light from my
eyes!
VERA.
You must face more light than this. I have not helped you. There is no
rest for you here, no rest anywhere that I know of.
CARLYON.
You are not failing me after all?
VERA.
I have watched him till he is almost safe. If you want him to die now
you must kill him outright--by force.
CARLYON.
Vera, you have mistrusted me.
VERA.
[_Passionately._] No. I have betrayed you! Can't you ever see it? I have
turned against you, and you are beaten! You have told me everything. I
alone----
CARLYON.
_You_ daren't lift your voice! I don't fear that.
VERA.
There are proofs enough without me! And witnesses; Selim first----
CARLYON.
[_As if stung._] Be quiet! Let me think. [_Pause._] To think that _you_
should have done it! To think of the vermin I have trusted before, and
none of them ever betrayed me!
VERA.
No; _you_ betrayed _them_! Oh, it is their blind faith that has made you
so pitilessly false!
CARLYON.
To trust _you_--it was like trusting myself!
VERA.
[_With a bitter laugh._] It was! It was! It was like trusting Judas! [_A
pause._] Was I to be a Koreb, mad and heartbroken in prison? Or like
Elizabeth, who has lost her very soul, and cannot see that there is any
human being in the world but you?
CARLYON.
[_With a scornful laugh._] But _you_ can? Is that it? Good God! to think
a wretched instinct like that should master you! To betray _me_ for a
chance lover!
VERA.
It was just the opposite. If I had not half-consciously loved him you
could never have deluded me. I wanted to stifle my heart, and I all but
stifled my conscience with it.
CARLYON.
When did you change? How long have you meant this?
VERA.