MÀIRI. Oh! leave me alone. Why, why?--Have you seen my mother?
Where is she?
SANDY. She has just gone out, but will return soon.
MÀIRI. I’ll go after her.
SANDY (_strides forward and seizes Màiri’s hand_). Oh! do not
leave me like that, Màiri. Will you not speak to me, if not
for my own sake, at least for the sake of old times?
MÀIRI. Why should you want to be speaking to me? Your mother
told me what you said. Do you think I can forget so soon? Let
me go....
SANDY. Màiri, what do you mean? What did my mother tell you?
MÀIRI. Ah! do not be fooling me. You may have fooled me in
_your_ mother’s house, but you’ll never fool me in _my_
mother’s house.
SANDY. Fooling you? I don’t understand.... Is this your home,
Màiri?
MÀIRI (_raising herself stiffly_). Well you know whose house
you are in. (_Drawing her hand away._) Now, leave it! and
never darken our door again. I am not your servant any longer,
sir.
SANDY. If you ask me to go, I certainly will. But before I do,
let me tell you this, Màiri: I have never asked my mother to
say anything to you about me.
MÀIRI. Perhaps not. But she told me all.... Are you going now?
SANDY (_brokenly_). Màiri, do not break my heart. Do not spurn
me, as if I were a leper. Oh, Màiri, if you must send me away,
once again, let us part as friends.... Why, oh why, did you
not tell me yourself that you had grown tired of me? Why did
you ask my mother to repeat your cruel words?
MÀIRI. Your mother? My cruel words? I never gave any message
to your mother.
SANDY. Never gave.... Has my mother lied to me?... When
I returned from my holiday and found you had gone, I was
broken-hearted, and what I felt most and feel most is that you
never even left a letter for me. If only you had, I should
have been better able to bear it....
MÀIRI. I’ll just ask you one question before you go. What did
you tell your mother to say to me?
SANDY. Nothing! I never spoke to her about you after I told
her we were engaged, until that black evening when she seared
my soul with your message--the message she said you left for
me.
[_Màiri sinks in a chair, covers her eyes with her hand, and
sobs._]
SANDY. Màiri, Màiri, I love you more than ever. Forgive
me if I have offended you! Have pity on me! I have never
loved another. I will never love another. (_Kneels before
her._) If you cannot love me, do not despise me. If you wish
me to go away, do not let us part except as old friends.
(_Entreatingly._) Màiri, speak to me, Màiri.
[_Màiri suddenly takes his head in her hands and kisses his
forehead._]
SANDY. My love, I cannot leave you now.
[_They gaze at one another in silence._]
MÀIRI. Then it is not true that you wished to leave me?
SANDY. No, no, Màiri. And it’s not true that you had grown
tired of me?
MÀIRI. Tired of you, Sandy? The heart of me has been hungering
for you day and night since last we parted.
[_Voices are heard outside._]
SANDY. Your mother is coming. (_Looks through the window._)
Heavens! my mother is with her.
MÀIRI. Your mother?... Oh! let me hide myself.
SANDY. I don’t wish to see her either. I shall never speak to her
again. Where can we go?
MÀIRI. To the kitchen. We can slip out after they come in here.
[_Exit Sandy and Màiri. Enter Mrs Mackay supporting Mrs Speedwell,
who is limping; she has met with an accident and is slightly
hysterical._]
WIDOW. Be sitting down, mem. Try to compose yourself.
MRS S. Thank you, Mrs Mackay, you are so kind--oh! dear, dear,
where is my son?
WIDOW. He must have gone out to look at the scenery. He’ll soon be
back, I’m sure. Just you settle down nicely now, mem. I’ll
bathe your foot for you. I’ll better be putting the big kettle
on the kitchen fire. (_Exit. Voices heard within_....) Are
_you_ here, Màiri dear? And Mr Sandy, too?