Sydneyhangs up the receiver and turns round.
Sydneyhangs up the receiver and turns round.
Miss Fairfield.Well?
Sydney.Father’s got away.
Miss Fairfield.What? Who spoke to you?
Sydney.The head man—what’s his name? Rogers! Frightfully upset.
Miss Fairfield.I should think so. Why, the poor fellow’s dangerous.
Sydney.Apparently he’s been very much better lately, and this last week, a marked change, he says.
Miss Fairfield.[Agitated] You mean he’s getting well?
Sydney.Looks like it. Rogers was awfully guarded but—apparently they’d already written to Uncle Hugh and the solicitors.
Miss Fairfield.They ought to have written to me.
Sydney.Of course, they wouldn’t write to Mother—now—but we ought to have heard.
Miss Fairfield.When did they miss him?
Sydney.This morning. Then a lot about its being inexplicable and the precautions they had taken and so on. The fact remains that he has managed to get away.
Miss Fairfield.It’s disgraceful carelessness.
Sydney.Their theory is that he has suddenlycome to himself. Is it possible, Auntie? Can it happen?
Miss Fairfield.It’s quite possible. It does. It was the same with my poor sister, Grace. After ten years that was.
Sydney.But the doctors said incurable.
Miss Fairfield.The Almighty’s greater than the doctors. And nerves—nerves are queer things. I nursed your Aunt Grace. Well, I always told your mother to wait.
Sydney.[Struck] Is that a fact about Aunt Grace? Was she out of her mind too?
Miss Fairfield.She never had to be sent away.
Sydney.Nobody ever told me.
Miss Fairfield.There’s something in most families.
Sydney.But with Father—wasn’t it shell-shock?
Miss Fairfield.It was brought on by shell-shock.
Sydney.D’you mean that in our family there’s insanity?
Miss Fairfield.[Fidgeting] That’s not the way to talk. But we’re nervy, all of us, we’re nervy. Your poor father would have been no worse than the rest if it hadn’t been for the war.
Sydney.[Slowly] What do you mean, “nervy”?
Miss Fairfield.[With a sidelong glance] I mean the way you’re taking this.
Sydney.[Sharply] How am I taking it?
Miss Fairfield.[Irritated] Well, look at you now.
Sydney.[Coldly] I’m perfectly under control.
Miss Fairfield.That’s it. It’s not natural.
Sydney.[Slowly] You mean, I shouldn’t bother to control myself if—
Miss Fairfield.[Hastily] You’re too young to think about such things.
Sydney.—if I weren’t afraid, you mean. Did Mother know—when she married?
Miss Fairfield.I tell you there are troubles in every family, but one doesn’t talk about them.
Sydney.But did sheknowthe trouble was insanity?
Miss Fairfield.[Shortly] I don’t know.
Sydney.Did Father?
Miss Fairfield.One always knows in a general sort of way.
Sydney.[Relentlessly] Am I nervy?
Miss Fairfield.Young people don’t have nerves.
Sydney.Insanity! A thing you can hand on! And I told Kit it was shell-shock!
Miss Fairfield.I don’t see what difference it makes to Christopher.
Sydney.You don’t see what difference—? You don’t see—? [To herself] ButIsee [There is a pause]Aunt Hester, suppose Father really gets well—?
Miss Fairfield.Well?
Sydney.Whatever will he do?
Miss Fairfield.It’s a question of what your mother will do.
Sydney.But it won’t have anything to do with Mother.
Miss Fairfield.[Grimly] Won’t it?
Sydney.What on earth are you driving at?
Miss Fairfield.I can’t discuss it with you.
Sydney.Why not?
Miss Fairfield.You’re too young.
SYDNEY.I’m old enough to be engaged.
Miss Fairfield.You’re not engaged.
Sydney.[Insolently] Kissed then. You saw that half an hour ago, didn’t you? I might just as well say I can’t discuss it with you because you’re too old.
Miss Fairfield.How dare you speak to me like that?
Sydney.[Beside herself] Oh, are all old people such stone walls? Here’s a shadow, here’s a trouble, here’s a ghost in the house—and when I ask you what shall I do, you talk about your blessed dignity!
Miss Fairfield.[Rising] This is the second time in one morning that you have driven me out of the room.
Sydney.[Wringing her hands] Well, I’m sorry! But I’m so worried. Don’t you see I’ve got to keep it off Mother? and Kit! Oh, I’ve got to tell Kit! [Following her irresolutely] Auntie, if you’d only be decent. [ButMiss Fairfieldhas gone out.Sydneyturns back into the room] If I only knew what to do!
She stands hesitating. Then she goes to the telephone: makes a movement as if to take it down but checks herself, shaking her head. She comes back to the sofa at last and flings herself down on it, fidgeting with the cushions and frowning. She is roused by the click of a latch as the French window in the inner room is softly opened, andHilary Fairfieldsteps over the threshold. He is a big, fresh-coloured man with grey hair and bowed shoulders. In speech and movements he is quick and jerky, inclined to be boisterous, but pathetically easy to check. This he knows himself, and he has, indeed, an air of being always in rebellion against his own habit of obedience. He comes in, treading softly, his bright eyes dancing with excitement, like a child getting ready to spring a surprise on somebody. Something in the fashion of the empty room (for he does not seeSydneycrouching in the cushions) disconcerts him. He hesitates. The happy little smile fades. His eye wanders from one object to another and he moves about, recognising a picture here, fingering there an unfamiliar hanging, as it were losing and finding himself a dozen times in his progress round the room. He comes to a stand at last before the fire-place, warming his hands. Then he takes out a pipe and with the otherhand feels absently along the mantel-piece for the matches.Sydney,who has been watching him with a sort of breathless sympathy, says softly:—
She stands hesitating. Then she goes to the telephone: makes a movement as if to take it down but checks herself, shaking her head. She comes back to the sofa at last and flings herself down on it, fidgeting with the cushions and frowning. She is roused by the click of a latch as the French window in the inner room is softly opened, andHilary Fairfieldsteps over the threshold. He is a big, fresh-coloured man with grey hair and bowed shoulders. In speech and movements he is quick and jerky, inclined to be boisterous, but pathetically easy to check. This he knows himself, and he has, indeed, an air of being always in rebellion against his own habit of obedience. He comes in, treading softly, his bright eyes dancing with excitement, like a child getting ready to spring a surprise on somebody. Something in the fashion of the empty room (for he does not seeSydneycrouching in the cushions) disconcerts him. He hesitates. The happy little smile fades. His eye wanders from one object to another and he moves about, recognising a picture here, fingering there an unfamiliar hanging, as it were losing and finding himself a dozen times in his progress round the room. He comes to a stand at last before the fire-place, warming his hands. Then he takes out a pipe and with the otherhand feels absently along the mantel-piece for the matches.Sydney,who has been watching him with a sort of breathless sympathy, says softly:—
Sydney.What are you looking for?
Hilary.They’ve moved my— [with a start] eh? [He turns sharply and sees her] Meg! It’s Meg! [With a rush] Oh, my own darling!
Sydney.[Her confidence in her power to deal with the situation suddenly gone] I—I’m not Meg.
Hilary.[Boisterously] Not Meg! Tell me I don’t know Meg! [Sydneygives a nervous schoolgirl giggle] Eh? [Then, his voice changing completely] No, it’s not Meg. [Uneasily] I beg your pardon. I thought you were—another girl. I’ve been away a long time.
Sydney.Whom do you want?
Hilary.[Startled again] There, you see, it’s her voice too. Who are you?
Sydney.[Fencing] How did you get in?
Hilary.Tool-shed gate. [Louder] Who are you?
Sydney.Where have you come from?
Hilary.Bedford. Took a car. [Lashing himself into an agitation] Who are you?
Sydney.Whom do you want to see?
Hilary.[Losing all control] Who are you?
Sydney.[Slowly] I think I’m your daughter. [Hilarystares at her blankly. Then he bursts out laughing.]
Hilary.Daughter! Daughter! By God, that’s good! My wife isn’t my wife, she’s my daughter! And my daughter’s seventeen and I’m twenty-two.
Sydney.You’re forgetting what years and years—
Hilary.Yes, of course. It’s years and years. It’s a life-time. It’s my daughter’s lifetime. What’s your name—daughter?
Sydney.Sydney.
Hilary.Sydney. Sydney, eh? My mother was Sydney. I like Sydney. I— [catching at his dignity] I suppose we’re rather a shock to each other—Sydney.
Sydney.No. You’re not a shock to me. But I’m afraid—
Hilary.[Breaking in] Is my—? Is your—? Where’s Margaret?
Sydney.At church.
Hilary.Back soon, eh?
Sydney.Yes, that’s why I’m afraid—
Hilary.[Unheeding] I might go to meet her, eh?
Sydney.[Quickly] Oh, I wouldn’t. Come and sit down and wait for her and talk.
Hilary.[Obediently] Very well. [He sits down beside her on the sofa. They look at each other. He says shyly] I say, isn’t this queer?
Sydney.It makes me want to cry.
Hilary.Why? That’s all over. Laugh! Laugh! That’s the thing to do. What a lovely room this is! I can’t say I like the new paper—or the curtains!
Sydney.[Quickly] Yes, I liked the old red ones, too. [Then, with an effort] Those—aren’t—the only changes. Everything changes—
Hilary.[Swiftly] Bet you Aunt Hester hasn’t, eh? [They look at each other and laugh.] And I bet you—I say, is your mother such a darling still?
Sydney.[Recalled to the business before her, brusquely] Look here—Father—
Hilary.[Savouring it] “Father!” “Father!” Well?
Sydney.We’ve got to talk. We’ve got to get things straight before she comes back.
Hilary.[His eye and his attention beginning to wander] Back soon, eh? Why has Meg moved the clock? It was much better where we put it. Must get it put back. Nearly one. She’s late, isn’t she? I—I really think, you know, I’ll go out and meet your mother.
Sydney.[Authoritatively] You’re to stay here.
Hilary. [Beginning obediently] Very well— [He flares suddenly] I’ll do as I like about that.
Sydney.[Passionately] I’ll not have you frighten her.
Hilary.I? [He smiles securely.]
Sydney.Can’t you realise what the shock—?
Hilary.[Blissfully] Never known anyone die of joy yet!
Sydney.Father, you don’t understand! You and mother—
Hilary.[Getting irritated] Look here, this is nothing to do with you—
Sydney.But you mustn’t—
Hilary[Violently] Now I tell you I’m not going to be hectored. I won’t stand it. I’ve had enough of it. D’you hear? I’ve had enough of it.
Sydney.If you talk to my mother like this—
Hilary.[Softening] Meg understands.
Sydney[Jealously] So do I understand.
Hilary.I believe you do. You got wild all in a moment. That’s my way, too. It means nothing. Meg can’t see that it means nothing. But it makes a man wild, you know, to be dragooned when he’s as sane as—my God, Iamsane! That’s all over, isn’t it? I am sane. Daughter!
Sydney.[Watching him] Father?
Hilary.Don’t let me get—that way. It’s bad. Help me to go slow. I’m as well as you are, you know. But it’s new. It only happened to-day—like a curtain lifting. [Confidentially] You see I was standing in the garden—
Sydney.I can’t conceive how you got away.
Hilary.Led. Like Peter out of prison. I went through the gate, openly. Their eyes were blinded. [With a complete change of tone] Pure luck, you know. There were visitors going out—and I nipped along with them, talking. No-one spotted me. I wouldn’t have believed it possible. Heaps of us—of them, I mean—have tried, you know.
Sydney.But you’d no money.
Hilary.[Whimsically] I took the first taxi I saw. Promised him double. He’s at the lower gate now, waiting to be paid.
Sydney.Father,dear! Ticking away the tuppences! We’re not millionaires!
Hilary.[Carelessly] Your mother’ll see to it. [Sound of a motor horn] That’s him! I suppose he’s got tired of waiting and come round.
Sydney.No, no! That’ll be Mother. You mustn’t stop here. You must let me tell her. You must let me tell her first. [She goes out hurriedly.]
Hilary.Your mother, is it? Your mother, eh? Here—child—a minute, give me a minute! give me a minute!
Margaret.[As she comes in] No—he couldn’t. But he’s coming round directly after lunch—Hilary!
Hilary.[Like a man who can’t see] Meg! Is it Meg? Meg, I’ve come home.
Margaret.[Terrified] Sydney, don’t go away!
Sydney.It’s all right, Mother!
Hilary.Meg!
Margaret.But they said—they said—incurable. They shouldn’t have said—incurable.
Hilary.What does it matter? I’m well. I’m well, Meg! I tell you—it came over me like a lantern flash—like a face turning to you. I was in the garden, you know—lost. I was a lost soul—outcast! No hope. I can never make anyoneunderstand. I was never like the rest of them. I was sane, always—but—the face was turned away.
Sydney.What face?
Hilary.The face of God.
Margaret.Sydney—is he—?
Sydney.—It’s all right, Mother! That isn’t madness. He’s come to himself.
Margaret.Then—then—what am I to do?
Hilary.What’s that? [He comes nearer.]
Margaret.I—I—
Hilary.[Staring at her] You don’t say a word. One would think you weren’t glad to see me. Aren’t you glad to see me?
Margaret.Of course—glad—you poor Hilary!
Hilary.If you knew what it is to say to myself—I’m at home! That place—!
Margaret.[Mechanically] Oh, but there was every comfort.
Hilary.Hell! Hell!
Margaret.[Insisting] But they were good to you?
Hilary.Good enough.
Margaret.[In acute distress] They didn’t—ill-treat—?
Sydney.Mother, you know you did the very best—
Hilary.If it had been heaven—what difference does it make? I was a dead man. Do you know what the dead do in heaven? They sit on theirgolden chairs and sicken for home. Why did you never come?
Margaret.They wouldn’t let me. It made you worse.
Hilary.Because I wanted you so.
Margaret.But you didn’t know me.
Hilary.My voice didn’t—and my speech and my actions didn’t. ButIknew you. Meg—behind the curtain—behind the dreams and the noises, and the abandonment of God—I wanted you. I wanted—I wanted— [He puts his hand to his head.] Look here—I tell you we mustn’t talk of these things. It’s not safe, I tell you. When I talk I see a black hand reaching up through the floor—do you see? there—through the widening crack of the floor—to catch me by the ankle and drag—drag—
Sydney.Father—Father—go slow!
Margaret.[Terrified] Sydney!
Sydney.It’s all right, Mother! We’ll manage.
Hilary.[Turning to her] Yes, you tell your mother. I’m all right! You understand that, don’t you? Once it was a real hand. Now I know it’s in my mind. I tell you, Meg, I’m well. But it’s not safe to think about anything but—Oh, my dear, the holly and the crackle of the fire and the snow like a veil of peace on me—and you like the snow—so still—
He comes to her with outstretched arms.
Margaret[Faintly] No—no—no—
Hilary.[Exalted] Yes—yes—yes! [He catches her to him.]
Margaret.For pity’s sake, Hilary—!
Bassett.[Entering] Lunch is served, Ma’am!
Margaret.[Helplessly] Sydney?
Sydney.Lay an extra cover. This—my—this gentleman is staying to lunch.
Hilary.[Boisterously] Staying to lunch! to lunch! That’s a good joke, isn’t it? I say, listen! I’m laughing. Do you know, I’m laughing? It’s blessed to laugh. Staying to lunch! Yes, my girl! Lunch and tea and supper and breakfast, thank God! and for many a long day!
CURTAIN.
The curtain rises onMargaret’sdrawing-room. It is prettily furnished in a gentle, white-walled, water-colour-in-gold-frame fashion, and is full of flowers. In one corner is a parrot in a cage, and near itMiss Fairfield’sarm-chair and foot-stool and work-table. The fire-place has a white sheepskin in front of it, and brass fire-irons: on the mantel-piece is a gilt clock and many photographs. At right angles to the fire a low empire couch runs out into the room. There is a hint ofSydneyin the ultra-modern cushionry with which it is piled. As the curtain goes upBassettis showing inGray Meredith.
The curtain rises onMargaret’sdrawing-room. It is prettily furnished in a gentle, white-walled, water-colour-in-gold-frame fashion, and is full of flowers. In one corner is a parrot in a cage, and near itMiss Fairfield’sarm-chair and foot-stool and work-table. The fire-place has a white sheepskin in front of it, and brass fire-irons: on the mantel-piece is a gilt clock and many photographs. At right angles to the fire a low empire couch runs out into the room. There is a hint ofSydneyin the ultra-modern cushionry with which it is piled. As the curtain goes upBassettis showing inGray Meredith.
Bassett.They’re still at lunch, Sir.
Gray.[Glancing at the clock] They’re late.
Bassett.It’s the visitor, Sir. He’s kept them talking.
Gray.Visitor?
Bassett.Yes, Sir, a strange gentleman. Will you take coffee, Sir?
Gray.I may as well go in and have it with them.
Bassett.The mistress said, would you not, Sir. She’d come to you.
Gray.[A little surprised] Oh, very well.
Bassett.I’ll tell Miss Sydney you’ve come, Sir.
Gray.[Lifting his eyebrows] Tell Mrs. Fairfield.
Bassett.Miss Sydney said I was to tell her too, Sir, quietly.
Gray.[Puzzled] Is—? [He checks an impulse to question the servant] All right!
Bassett.Thank you, Sir.
She goes out, leaving the door open. There is a slight pause.Margaretcomes in hurriedly, shutting the door behind her.
She goes out, leaving the door open. There is a slight pause.Margaretcomes in hurriedly, shutting the door behind her.
Gray.[Smiling] Well, what’s the mystery?
Margaret.Gray, he’s come back!
Gray.Who?
Margaret.Hilary!
Gray.[Lightly] Hilary? What Hilary?Hilary!
Margaret.Yes.
Gray.Good God!
Margaret.He got away. He came straight here. I found him with Sydney.
Gray.Don’t be frightened. I’m here. Is he dangerous?
Margaret.No, no, poor fellow!
Gray.You can’t be sure. Anyway, I’d better take charge of him while you phone the asylum. No, that won’t do, there are no trains. We must ring up the authorities.
Margaret.Oh, no, Gray!
Gray.It’s not pleasant, but it’s the only thing to do.
Margaret.You don’t understand.
Gray.There’s only one way to deal with an escaped lunatic.
Margaret.But he’s not. He’s well.
Gray.What’s that?
Margaret.He’s well. He knows me. He—
Gray.I don’t believe it.
Margaret.Do you think I want to believe it? Oh, what a ghastly thing to say!
Gray.This has nothing to do with you. He has nothing to do with you. Leave me to deal with him. [He goes towards the door.]
Margaret.Where are you going?
Gray.’Phoning for Dr. Alliot to begin with.
Margaret.Sydney’s done that already.
Gray.Sydney’s head’s on her shoulders.
Margaret.He’ll be here as soon as he can. He could always manage Hilary.
Gray.You’d better go up to your room.
Margaret.No.
Gray.Don’t take it too hard. It’ll be over in an hour. We’ll get him away quietly, poor devil.
Margaret.But it’s no good, Gray, he’s well. We’ve been on to the asylum already. They say we should have heard in a day or two even if he hadn’t got away.
Gray.Really well?
Margaret.The old Hilary—voice and ways and—oh, my God! what am I to do?
Gray.Do? You?
Margaret.Don’t you see, he knows nothing? His hair’s grey and he talks as he talked at twenty. It’s horrible.
Gray.What do you mean, he knows nothing?
Margaret.About the divorce. About you and me. He thinks it’s all—as he left it.
Gray.[Incredulously] You’ve said nothing?
Margaret.He’s like a lost child come home. Do you think I want to send him crazy again? He—
Gray.[With a certain anger] You’ve said nothing?
Margaret.Not yet.
Gray.You’ll come away with me at once.
Margaret.I can’t. I’ve got to think of Hilary.
Gray.You’ve got to think of me.
Margaret.Iamyou. But I’ve done him so much injury—
Gray.You’vedone Fairfield injury? You little saint!
Margaret.Saint? I’m a wicked woman. I’m wishing he hadn’t got well. I’m wishing the doctors will say it’s not true. In my wicked heart I’m calling down desolation on my own husband.
Gray.You have no husband. You’re marrying me in a week. You’re mine.
Margaret.I’m afraid—
Gray.Whose are you? Answer me.
Margaret.Yours.
Gray.You know it?
Margaret.I know it.
Gray.Then never be afraid again.
Margaret.No, not when you’re here. I’m not afraid when you’re here. But I must be good to Hilary. You see that?
Gray.What good is “good” to him, poor devil?
Margaret.At least I’ll break it gently.
Gray.Gently? That’s just like a woman. All you can do for him is to come away now.
Margaret.How can I? He’s got to be told.
Gray.Then let me tell him.
Margaret.No, no! From you, just from you, it would be wanton. I won’t have cruelty.
Gray.We’ll go straight up to town and get married at once. That’ll settle everything.
Margaret.You mustn’t rush me. I’ve got to do what’s right.
Gray.It is right. There’s nothing else to be done. You can’t stay here.
Margaret.No, I can’t stay here. Don’t let me stay here.
Gray.Come with me. The car’s outside. You say Alliot will be here in ten minutes. Leave him a note. He’s an old friend as well as a doctor. Let him deal with it if you won’t let me.
Margaret.Oh, can’t you see that I must tell Hilary myself?
Gray.[Angrily] Women are incomprehensible!
Margaret.It’s men who are uncomprehending. Can’t you feel that it’ll hurt him less from me?
Gray.It’ll hurt him ten thousand times more.
Margaret.But differently. It’s the things one might have said that fester. At least I’ll spare him that torment. He shall say all he wants to say.
Gray.[Blackly] I suppose the truth is that there’s something in the very best of women that enjoys a scene.
Margaret.That’s the first bitter thing you’ve ever said to me.
Gray.[Breaking out] Can’t you see what it does to me to know you are in the same house with him? For God’s sake come out of it!
Margaret.[Close to him] I want to come, now, this moment. I want to be forced to come.
Gray.That settles it.
Margaret.[Eluding him] But I mustn’t! Don’t you see that I mustn’t? I can’t leave Sydney to lay my past for me.
Gray.Your past is dead.
Margaret.Its ghost’s awake and walking.
Hilary’s Voice.Meg! Meg!
Margaret.[Clinging to him] Listen, it’s calling to me.
Hilary’s Voice.Meg, where are you?
Margaret.It’s too late! I’m too old! I shall never get away from him. I told you it was too good to be true.
Gray.[Deliberately matter-of-fact] Listen to me! I am going home now. There are orders to be given. I must get some money and papers. ButI shall be back here in an hour. I give you just that hour to tell him what you choose. After that you’ll be ready to come.
Margaret.If—if I’ve managed—
Gray.There’s no if. You’re coming.
Margaret.Am I coming, Gray?
Hilary.[Entering from the hall]Meg, Sydney said you’d gone to your room. Hullo! What’s this? Who’s this? Doctor, eh? I’ve been expecting them down on me. [ToGray] It’s no good, you know. I’m as fit as you are. Any test you like.
Margaret.Mr. Meredith called to see me, Hilary! He’s just going.
Hilary.Oh, sorry! [He walks to the fire and stands warming his hands, but watching them over his shoulder.]
Gray.[At the door, in a low voice toMargaret] I don’t like leaving you.
Margaret.You must! It’s better! But—come back quickly!
Gray.You’ll be ready?
Margaret.I will. [Graygoes out.]
Hilary.[Uneasily] Who’s that man?
Margaret.His name’s Gray Meredith.
Hilary.What’s he doing here?
Margaret.He’s an old friend.
Hilary.I don’t know him, do I?
Margaret.It’s since you were ill. It’s the last five years.
Hilary.He’s in love with you! I tell you, the man’s in love with you! Do you think I’m so dazed and crazed I can’t see that? You shouldn’t let him, Meg! You’re such a child you don’t know what you’re doing when you look and smile—
Margaret.[In a strained voice] I do know. [She stands quite still in the middle of the room, her head lifted, a beautiful woman.]
Hilary.[Staring at her] Lord, I don’t wonder at him, poor brute! [Still staring] Meg, you’ve changed.
Margaret.[Catching at the opening] Yes, Hilary.
Hilary.Taller, more beautiful—and yet I miss something.
Margaret.[Urging him on] Yes, Hilary.
Hilary.[Wistfully]—something you used to have—kind—a kind way with you. The child’s got it. Sydney—my daughter, Sydney! She’s more you than you are. You—you’ve grown right up—away—beyond me—haven’t you?
Margaret.Yes, Hilary.
Hilary.But I’m going to catch up. You’ll help me to catch up with you—Meg? [She doesn’t answer.] Meg! wait for me! Meg, where are you? Why don’t you hold out your hands?
Margaret.[Wrung for him] I can’t, Hilary! My hands are full.
Hilary.[His tone lightening into relief] What,Sydney? She’ll be off in no time. She’s told me about the boy—what’s his name—Kit—already.
Margaret.It’s not Sydney.
Hilary.What? [Crescendo] Eh? What are you driving at? What are you trying to tell me? What’s changed you? Why do you look at me sideways? Why do you flinch when I speak loudly? Yes—and when I kissed you—It’s that man! [He goes up to her and takes her by the wrist, staring into her face.] Is it true? You?
Margaret.[Pitifully] I’ve done nothing wrong. I’m trying to tell you. I only want to tell you and make you understand. Hilary, fifteen years is a long time—
Hilary.[Dully] Yes. I suppose it’s a long time for a woman to be faithful.
Margaret.That’s it! That’s the whole thing! If I’d loved you it wouldn’t have been long—
Hilary.[Violently, crying her down] You did love me once.
Margaret.[Beaten] Did I—once? I don’t know—
There is a silence.
Hilary.[Without expression] What do you expect me to do? Forgive you?
Margaret.[Stung] There’s nothing to forgive. [Softening] Oh, so much, Hilary, to forgive each other; but not that.
Hilary.[More and more roughly as he losescontrol of himself] Divorce you then? Because I’ll not do that! I’ll have no dirty linen washed in the courts.
Margaret.[Forced into the open] Hilary, I divorced you twelve months ago.
Hilary.[Shouting] What? What? What?
Margaret.I divorced you—
Hilary.[Beside himself] You’re mad! You couldn’t do it! You’d no cause! D’you think I’m to be put off with your lies? Am I a child? You’d no cause! Oh, I see what you’re at. You want to confuse me. You want to pull wool over my eyes. You want to drive me off my head—drive me mad again. You devil! You devil! You shan’t do it. I’ve got friends—Sydney! where’s that girl [Shouting] Sydney! Hester! All of you! Come here! Come here, I say! [Sydneyopens the drawing room door.]
Sydney.Mother, what is it? [She enters, followed byMiss Fairfield.ToHilary—] What are you doing? You’re frightening her.
Hilary.[Wildly] No, no! You’re not on her side. You’re little Sydney—kind—my Sydney! What did you say—go slow, eh! Keep your hand here—cool, cool. [Then asSydney,breaking from him, makes a movement to her mother] Stand away from that woman!
Margaret.Sydney, humour him.
Hilary.[At white heat] What was I calling you for, eh? Oh, yes, a riddle. I’ve got a riddle foryou. There was a man at that place—used to ask riddles—the moon told ’em to him. Just such a white face whispering out of the blue—lies! He couldn’t find the answers—sent him off his head. But I know the answer. When’s a wife not a wife, eh? Want to know the answer? [Pointing toMargaret] When she’sthis—this—this! [Confidentially] She’s poisoning me.
Miss Fairfield.Now, Hilary! Hilary!—
Hilary.Sydney, come here! I’ll tellyou. [Sydneystands torn between the two.]
Miss Fairfield.What have you done to him, Margaret?
Margaret.I’ve told him the truth.
Miss Fairfield.God forgive you!
Hilary.[Raving] I tell you she’s pouring poison into my ear. You remember that fellow in the play—andhiswife? That’s what she’s done. If I told you what she said to me, you’d think I was mad. And that’s what she wants you to think. She wants to get rid of me. She’s got a tame cat about the place. I’m in the way. And so she comes to me, d’you see, and tells me—what do you think? She says she’s not my wife. What do you think of that?
Miss Fairfield.[Grimly] You may well ask.
Margaret.[ToSydney] He won’t listen—
Sydney.Sit down, darling! You’re shaking.
Margaret.He’s always had these rages. It’s my fault. I began at the wrong end. Hilary—it’s not—I’m not what you think.
Hilary.Then what was that man doing in my house?
Margaret.In a week I’m going to marry him.
Hilary.D’you hear her? Tomeshe says this! Is she mad or am I?
Margaret.[Desperately] I tell you there’s been a law passed—
Miss Fairfield.No need for him to know that now, Margaret!
Sydney.Of course he has to know.
Miss Fairfield.Not now.
Margaret.[On the defensive] I don’t know what you mean, Aunt Hester!
Miss Fairfield.Let us rather thank God that he has come back in time.
Margaret.[Uneasy] In time? In time?
Miss Fairfield.To snatch a brand from the burning.
Margaret.I’m a free woman. I’ve got my divorce.
Miss Fairfield.Whom God hath joined let no man put asunder.
Margaret.[At bay] I’m a free woman. I’m going to marry Gray Meredith. This is a trap! Sydney!
Miss Fairfield.Is this talk for a young girl to hear?
Margaret.Sydney, you’re to fetch Gray.
Hilary.[With weak violence] If he comes here I’ll kill him.
Margaret.[CatchingSydneyback] No, no! D’you hear him? What am I to do?
Sydney.It’s all right, Mother! We’ll manage somehow.
Bassett.[Entering] Dr. Alliot is in the hall, ma’am.
Margaret.[With a gasp of relief] Ask him to come in here. At once.