_Four months later. An isolation room at the Infirmary with a
sleeping porch at the right of it. Late afternoon of a Sunday
towards the end of October. The room, extending two-thirds of the
distance from left to right, is, for reasons of space economy,
scantily furnished with the bare necessities--a bureau with mirror
in the left corner, rear--two straight-backed chairs--a table with
a glass top in the centre. The floor is varnished hardwood. The
walls and furniture are painted white. On the left, forward, a door
to the hall. On the right, rear, a double glass door opening on the
porch. Farther front two windows. The porch, a screened-in
continuation of the room, contains only a single iron bed, painted
white, and a small table placed beside the bed._
_The woods, the leaves of the trees rich in their autumn colouring,
rise close about this side of the Infirmary. Their branches almost
touch the porch on the right. In the rear of the porch they have
been cleared away from the building for a narrow space, and through
this opening the distant hills can be seen with the tree tops
glowing in the sunlight._
_As the curtain rises,_ Eileen _is discovered lying in the bed on
the porch, propped up into a half-sitting position by pillows under
her back and head. She seems to have grown much thinner. Her face
is pale and drawn, with deep hollows under her cheek-bones. Her
eyes are dull and lustreless. She gazes straight before her into
the wood with the unseeing stare of apathetic indifference. The
door from the hall in the room behind her is opened, and_ Miss
Howard _enters, followed by_ Bill Carmody, Mrs. Brennan, _and_
Mary. Carmody's _manner is unwontedly sober and subdued. This air
of respectable sobriety is further enhanced by a black suit,
glaringly new and stiffly pressed, a new black derby hat, and shoes
polished like a mirror. His expression is full of a bitter, if
suppressed, resentment. His gentility is evidently forced upon him
in spite of himself and correspondingly irksome._ Mrs. Brennan _is
a tall, stout woman of fifty, lusty and loud-voiced, with a broad,
snub-nosed, florid face, a large mouth, the upper lip darkened by a
suggestion of moustache, and little round blue eyes, hard and
restless with a continual fuming irritation. She is got up
regardless in her ridiculous Sunday-best._ Mary _appears tall and
skinny-legged in a starched, outgrown frock. The sweetness of her
face has disappeared, giving way to a hang-dog sullenness, a
stubborn silence, with sulky, furtive glances of rebellion directed
at her step-mother._
MISS HOWARD (_pointing to the porch_). She's out there on the porch.
MRS. BRENNAN (_with dignity_). Thank you, ma'am.
MISS HOWARD (_with a searching glance at the visitors as if to appraise
their intentions_). Eileen's been very sick lately, you know, so be
careful not to worry her about anything. Do your best to cheer her up.
CARMODY (_mournfully_). We'll try to put life in her spirits, God help
her. (_With an uncertain look at_ Mrs. Brennan.) Won't we, Maggie?
MRS. BRENNAN (_turning sharply on_ Mary, _who has gone over to examine
the things on the bureau_). Come away from that, Mary. Curiosity killed
a cat. Don't be touchin' her things. Remember what I told you. Or is it
admirin' your mug in the mirror you are? (_Turning to_ Miss Howard _as_
Mary _moves away from the bureau, hanging her head--shortly._) Don't
you worry, ma'am. We won't trouble Eileen at all.
MISS HOWARD. Another thing. You mustn't say anything to her of what
Miss Gilpin just told you about her being sent away to the State Farm
in a few days. Eileen isn't to know till the very last minute. It would
only disturb her.
CARMODY (_hastily_). We'll not say a word of it.
MISS HOWARD (_turning to the hall door_). Thank you.
(_She goes out, shutting the door._)
MRS. BRENNAN (_angrily_). She has a lot of impudent gab, that one, with
her don't do this and don't do that! It's a wonder you wouldn't speak
up to her and shut her mouth, you great fool, and you payin' money to
give her her job. (_Disgustedly._) You've no guts in you.
CARMODY (_placatingly_). Would you have me raisin' a shindy when
Eileen's leavin' here in a day or more? What'd be the use?
MRS. BRENNAN. In the new place she's goin' you'll not have to pay a
cent, and that's a blessing! It's small good they've done her here for
all the money they've taken. (_Gazing about the room critically._) It's
neat and clean enough; and why shouldn't it, a tiny room and the lot of
them nothing to do all day but scrub. (_Scornfully._) Two sticks of
chairs and a table! They don't give much for the money.
CARMODY. Catch them! It's a good thing she's clearin' out of this, and
her worse off after them curin' her eight months than she was when she
came. She'll maybe get well in the new place.
MRS. BRENNAN (_indifferently_). It's God's will, what'll happen.
(_Irritably._) And I'm thinkin' it's His punishment she's under now for
having no heart in her and never writin' home a word to you or the
children in two months or more. If the doctor hadn't wrote us himself
to come see her, she was sick, we'd have been no wiser.
CARMODY. Whisht! Don't be blamin' a sick girl.
MARY (_who has drifted to one of the windows at right--curiously_).
There's somebody in bed out there. I can't see her face. Is it Eileen?
MRS. BRENNAN. Don't be goin' out there till I tell you, you imp! I must
speak to your father first. (_Coming closer to him and lowering her
voice._) Are you going to tell her about it?
CARMODY (_pretending ignorance_). About what?
MRS. BRENNAN. About what, indeed! Don't pretend you don't know. About
our marryin' two weeks back, of course. What else?
CARMODY (_uncertainly_). Yes--I disremembered she didn't know. I'll
have to tell her, surely.
MRS. BRENNAN (_flaring up_). You speak like you wouldn't. Is it shamed
of me you are? Are you afraid of a slip of a girl? Well, then, I'm not!
I'll tell her to her face soon enough.
CARMODY (_angry in his turn--assertively_). You'll not, now! Keep your
mouth out of this and your rough tongue! I tell you I'll tell her.
MRS. BRENNAN (_satisfied_). Let's be going out to her, then. (_They
move towards the door to the porch._) And keep your eye on your watch.
We mustn't miss the train. Come with us, Mary, and remember to keep
your mouth shut.
(_They go out on the porch and stand just outside the door
waiting for_ Eileen _to notice them; but the girl in bed
continues to stare into the woods, oblivious to their presence._)
MRS. BRENNAN (_nudging_ Carmody _with her elbow--in a harsh whisper_).
She don't see us. It's a dream she's in with her eyes open. Glory be,
it's bad she's lookin'. The look on her face'd frighten you. Speak to
her, you!
(Eileen _stirs uneasily as if this whisper had disturbed her
unconsciously._)
CARMODY (_wetting his lips and clearing his throat huskily_). Eileen.
EILEEN (_startled, turns and stares at them with frightened eyes. After
a pause she ventures uncertainly, as if she were not sure hut what
these figures might be creatures of her dream_). Father. (_Her eyes
shift to_ Mrs. Brennan's _face and she shudders._) Mrs. Brennan.
MRS. BRENNAN (_quickly--in a voice meant to be kindly_). Here we are,
all of us, come to see you. How is it you're feelin' now, Eileen?
(_While she is talking she advances to the bedside, followed by_
Carmody, _and takes one of the sick girl's hands in hers._ Eileen
_withdraws it as if stung and holds it out to her father._ Mrs.
Brennan's _face flushes angrily and she draws back from the
bedside._)
CARMODY (_moved--with rough tenderness patting her hand_). Ah, Eileen,
sure it's a sight for sore eyes to see you again! (_He bends down as if
to kiss her, but, struck by a sudden fear, hesitates, straightens
himself, and shamed by the understanding in_ Eileen's _eyes, grows red
and stammers confusedly._) How are you now? Sure it's the picture of
health you're lookin'.
(Eileen _sighs and turns her eyes away from him with a resigned
sadness._)
MRS. BRENNAN. What are you standin' there for like a stick, Mary?
Haven't you a word to say to your sister?
EILEEN (_twisting her head around and seeing_ Mary _for the first
time--with a glad cry_). Mary! I--why, I didn't see you before! Come
here.
(Mary _approaches gingerly with apprehensive side glances at_
Mrs. Brennan, _who watches her grimly._ Eileen's _arms reach out
for her hungrily. She grasps her about the waist and seems trying
to press the unwilling child to her breast._)
MARY (_fidgeting nervously--suddenly in a frightened whine_). Let me
go! (Eileen _releases her, looks at her face dazedly for a second, then
falls back limply with a little moan and shuts her eyes._ Mary, _who
has stepped back a pace, remains fixed there as if fascinated with
fright by her sister's face. She stammers._) Eileen--you look so--so
funny.
EILEEN (_without opening her eyes--in a dead voice_). You, too! I never
thought you---- Go away, please.
MRS. BRENNAN (_with satisfaction_). Come here to me, Mary, and don't be
botherin' your sister.
(Mary _avoids her step-mother, but retreats to the far end of the
porch where she stands shrunk back against the wall, her eyes
fixed on_ Eileen _with the same fascinated horror._)
CARMODY (_after an uncomfortable pause, forcing himself to speak_). Is
the pain bad, Eileen?
EILEEN (_dully--without opening her eyes_). There's no pain. (_There is
another pause--then she murmurs indifferently._) There are chairs in
the room you can bring out if you want to sit down.
MRS. BRENNAN (_sharply_). We've not time to be sittin'. We've the train
back to catch.
EILEEN (_in the same lifeless voice_). It's a disagreeable trip. I'm
sorry you had to come.
CARMODY (_fighting against an oppression he cannot understand, bursts
into a flood of words_). Don't be talking of the trip. Sure we're glad
to take it to get a sight of you. It's three months since I've had a
look at you, and I was anxious. Why haven't you written a line to us?
You could do that without trouble, surely. Don't you ever think of us
at all any more? (_He waits for an answer, but_ Eileen _remains silent
with her eyes closed._ Carmody _starts to walk up and down, talking
with an air of desperation._) You're not asking a bit of news from
home. I'm thinkin' the people out here have taken all the thought of us
out of your head. We're all well, thank God. I've another good job on
the streets from Murphy and one that'll last a long time, praise be!
I'm needin' it surely, with all the expenses--but no matter. Billy had
a raise from his old skinflint of a boss a month back. He's gettin'
seven a week now and proud as a turkey. He was comin' out with us
to-day, but he'd a date with his girl. Sure, he's got a girl now, the
young bucko! What d'you think of him? It's old Malloy's girl he's
after--the pop-eyed one with glasses, you remember--as ugly as a blind
sheep, only he don't think so. He said to give you his love. (Eileen
_stirs and sighs wearily, a frown appearing for an instant on her
forehead._) And Tom and Nora was comin' out too, but Father Fitz had
some doin's or other up to the school, and he told them to be there, so
they wouldn't come with us, but they sent their love to you, too.
They're growin' so big you'd not know them. Tom's no good at the
school. He's like Billy was. I've had to take the strap to him often.
He's always playin' hooky and roamin' the streets. And Nora. (_With
pride._) There's the divil for you! Up to everything she is and no
holdin' her high spirits. As pretty as a picture, and the smartest girl
in her school, Father Fitz says. Am I lyin', Maggie?
MRS. BRENNAN (_grudgingly_). She's smart enough--and too free with her
smartness.
CARMODY (_pleased_). Ah, don't be talkin'! She'll know more than the
lot of us before she's grown even. (_He pauses in his walk and stares
down at_ Eileen, _frowning._) Are you sick, Eileen, that you're keepin'
your eyes shut without a word out of you?
EILEEN (_wearily_). No. I'm tired, that's all.
CARMODY (_resuming his walk_). And who else is there, let me think? Oh,
Mary--she's the same as ever, you can see for yourself.
EILEEN (_bitterly_). The same? Oh, no!
CARMODY. She's grown, you mean? I suppose. You'd notice, not seeing her
so long?
(_He can think of nothing else to say, but walks up and down with
a restless, uneasy expression._)
MRS. BRENNAN (_sharply_). What time is it gettin'?
CARMODY (_fumbles for his watch_). Half-past four, a bit after.
MRS. BRENNAN. We'll have to leave soon. It's a long jaunt down that
hill in that buggy.
(_She catches his eye and makes violent signs to him to tell_
Eileen _what he has come to tell._)
CARMODY (_after an uncertain pause--clenching his fists and clearing
his throat_). Eileen.
EILEEN. Yes.
CARMODY (_irritably_). Can't you open your eyes on me? It's like
talkin' to myself I am.
EILEEN (_looking at him--dully_). What is it?
CARMODY (_stammering--avoiding her glance_). It's this, Eileen--me and
Maggie--Mrs. Brennan, that is--we----
EILEEN (_without surprise_). You're going to marry her?
CARMODY (_with an effort_). Not goin' to. It's done.
EILEEN (_without a trace of feeling_). Oh, so you've been married
already?
(_Without further comment, she closes her eyes._)
CARMODY. Two weeks back we were, by Father Fitz.
(_He stands staring down at his daughter, irritated, perplexed
and confounded by her silence, looking as if he longed to shake
her._)
MRS. BRENNAN (_angry at the lack of enthusiasm shown by_ Eileen). Let
us get out of this, Bill. We're not wanted, that's plain as the nose on
your face. It's little she's caring about you, and little thanks she
has for all you've done for her and the money you've spent.
CARMODY (_with a note of pleading_). Is that a proper way to be
treatin' your father, Eileen, after what I've told you? Have you no
heart in you at all? Is it nothin' to you you've a good, kind woman now
for mother?
EILEEN (_fiercely, her eyes flashing open on him_). No, no! Never!
MRS. BRENNAN (_plucking at_ Carmody's _elbow. He stands looking at_
Eileen _helplessly, his mouth open, a guilty flush spreading over his
face_). Come out of here, you big fool, you! Is it to listen to insults
to your livin' wife you're waiting? Am I to be tormented and you never
raise a hand to stop her?
CARMODY (_turning on her threateningly_). Will you shut your gab?
EILEEN (_with a moan_). Oh, go away, Father! Please! Take her away!
MRS. BRENNAN (_pulling at his arm_). Take me away this second or I'll
go on without you and never speak again to you till the day I die!
CARMODY (_pushes her violently away from him--his fist uplifted_). Shut
your gab, I'm saying!
MRS. BRENNAN. The divil mend you and yours then! I'm leavin' you. (_She
starts for the door._)
CARMODY (_hastily_). Wait a bit, Maggie. I'm comin'. (_She goes into
the room, slamming the door, but once inside she stands still, trying
to listen._ Carmody _glares down at his daughter's pale twitching face
with the closed eyes. Finally he croaks in a whining tone of fear._) Is
your last word a cruel one to me this day, Eileen?
(_She remains silent. His face darkens. He turns and strides out
of the door._ Mary _darts after him with a frightened cry of
"Papa."_ Eileen _covers her face with her hands and a shudder of
relief runs over her body._)
MRS. BRENNAN (_as_ Carmody _enters the room--in a mollified tone_). So
you've come, have you? Let's go, then? (Carmody _stands looking at her
in silence, his expression full of gloomy rage. She bursts out
impatiently._) Are you comin' or are you goin' back to her? (_She
grabs_ Mary's _arm and pushes her towards, the door to the hall._) Are
you comin' or not, I'm askin'?
CARMODY (_sombrely--as if to himself_). There's something wrong in the
whole of this--that I can't make out. (_With sudden fury he brandishes
his fists as though defying someone and growls threateningly._) And
I'll get drunk this night--dead, rotten drunk! (_He seems to detect
disapproval in_ Mrs. Brennan's _face, for he shakes his fist at her and
repeats like a solemn oath._) I'll get drunk this night, I'm sayin'!
I'll get drunk if my soul roasts for it--and no one in the whole world
is strong enough to stop me!
(Mrs. Brennan _turns from him with a disgusted shrug of her
shoulders and hustles_ Mary _out of the door._ Carmody, _after a
second's pause, follows them._ Eileen _lies still, looking out
into the woods with empty, desolate eyes._ Miss Howard _comes
into the room from the hall and goes to the porch, carrying a
glass of milk in her hand._)
MISS HOWARD. Here's your diet, Eileen. I forgot it until just now.
Sundays are awful days, aren't they? They get me all mixed up in my
work, with all these visitors around. Did you have a nice visit with
your folks?
EILEEN (_forcing a smile_). Yes.
MISS HOWARD. You look worn out. I hope they didn't worry you over home
affairs?
EILEEN. No.
(_She sips her milk and sets it back on the table with a shudder
of disgust._)
MISS HOWARD (_with a smile_). What a face! You'd think you were taking
poison.
EILEEN. I hate it! (_With deep passion._) I wish it was poison!
MISS HOWARD (_jokingly_). Oh, come now! That isn't a nice way to feel
on the Sabbath. (_With a meaning smile._) I've some news that'll cheer
you up, I bet. (_Archly._) Guess who's here on a visit?
EILEEN (_startled--in a frightened whisper_). Who?
MISS HOWARD. Mr. Murray. (Eileen _closes her eyes wincingly for a
moment and a shadow of pain comes over her face._) He just came about
the time your folks did. I saw him for a moment, not to speak to. He
was going to the main building--to see Doctor Stanton, I suppose.
(_Beaming--with a certain curiosity._) What do you think of that for
news?
EILEEN (_trying to conceal her agitation and assume a casual tone_). He
must have come to be examined.
MISS HOWARD (_with a meaning laugh_). Oh, I'd hardly say that was his
main reason. He does look much thinner and very tired, though. I
suppose he's been working too hard. (_In business-like tones._) Well,
I've got to get back on the job. (_She turns to the door calling back
jokingly._) He'll be in to see you, of course, so look your prettiest.
(_She goes out and shuts the door to the porch._ Eileen _gives a
frightened gasp and struggles up in bed as if she wanted to call
the nurse to return. Then she lies back in a state of great
nervous excitement, twisting her head with eager, fearful glances
towards the door, listening, clasping and unclasping her thin
fingers on the white spread. As_ Miss Howard _walks across the
room to the hall door, it is opened and_ Stephen Murray _enters.
A great change is visible in his face. It is much thinner and the
former healthy tan has faded to a sallow pallor. Puffy shadows of
sleeplessness and dissipation are marked under his heavy-lidded
eyes. He is dressed in a well-fitting, expensive dark suit, a
white shirt with a soft collar and bright-coloured tie._)
MISS HOWARD (_with pleased surprise, holding out her hand_). Hello, Mr.
Murray.
MURRAY (_shaking her hand--with a forced pleasantness_). How are you,
Miss Howard?
MISS HOWARD. Fine as ever. It certainly looks natural to see you around
here again--not that I hope you're here to stay, though. (_With a
smile._) I suppose you're on your way to Eileen now. Well, I won't keep
you. I've stacks of work to do. (_She opens the hall door. He starts
for the porch._) Oh, I was forgetting--Congratulations! I've read those
stories--all of us have. They're great. We're all so proud of you.
You're one of our graduates, you know.
MURRAY (_indifferently_). Oh,--that stuff.
MISS HOWARD (_gaily_). Don't be so modest. Well, see you later, I hope.