Sydneygoes off into a peal of laughter.
Sydneygoes off into a peal of laughter.
Kit.What’s the matter now?
Sydney.Do you preach this sort of sermon to Alice?
Kit.Sydney—that’s—that’s rude—that’s—that’s—
Sydney.Take time, darling!
Kit.You’re being simply insulting.
Sydney.Too bad! I should go and tell Alice.
Kit.Damn Alice!
Sydney.Oh, no, Kit, she’s got blue eyes.
Kit.[Storming] Look here, what’s up?
Sydney.Nix.
Kit.Have you really got your back up? What’s the matter with you, Sydney?
Sydney.D’you want to know?
Kit.[With a certain dignity] I think I’d better.
Sydney.Well, it’s [yawning] “jam to-morrow, jam yesterday, but—” Surely you know how it ends?
Kit.I don’t. And I don’t want to.
Sydney.[Drearily] “But never jam to-day.”
Kit.[Startled] Why, Sydney!
Sydney.[Recovering herself, lightly] D’you know what that’s out of?
Kit.No.
Sydney.[Mischievously] You ought to—“Alice”—
Kitmakes a furious gesture.
Kitmakes a furious gesture.
Sydney.[Appeasing him] No, no, no! “Alice through the Looking-glass!” [More soberly] I can’t help it, Kit. When I look in the looking-glass I see—Alice.
Kit.Once and for all, Sydney, will you shut up about Alice?
Sydney.Can’t. It’s her jam to-day.
Kit.I wish you’d talk sense for a change.
Sydney.But I am. I’m conveying to you as nicely and tactfully as possible that I’m—
Kit.[Apprehensive at last] What, Sydney?
Sydney.Tired of jam.
Kit.[Heavily] D’you mean you’re tired of me?
Sydney.That would be putting it crudely.
Kit.What’s got into you? I don’t know you.
Sydney.P’raps you’re beginning to.
Kit.But what have I done?
Sydney.[Flaring effectively] Well, for one thing you shouldn’t have told your father we were engaged. What girl, do you suppose, would stand it? You ask Alice.
Kit.[Flaring in reality] If you’re not jolly careful I will.
Sydney.[Egging him on] Good for you!
Kit.[Furious] And if I do I’ll ask her more than that.
Sydney.[Clapping her hands] I should go and do it now, if I were you. Strike while the iron’s hot.
Kit.You’re mad.
Sydney.[With intense bitterness] Yes, I suppose that’s the right word to fling at me.
Kit.[Between injury and distress] I never meant that. You’re twisting the words in my mouth. You’re just picking a quarrel.
Sydney.[Lazily] Well, what’s one to do with a little boy who won’t take his medicine? I tried to give it you in jam.
Kit.[Curt] You want me to go?
Sydney.Yes.
Kit.For good?
Sydney.Yes.
Kit.Honest?
Sydney.Yes.
Kit.Right. [He turns from her and goes out.]
Margaret.[Looking up] Was that Kit? Sydney, don’t let him go.
Sydney.Kit! Ki-it!
Kit.[Returning joyfully] Yes! Yes, old thing?
Sydney.[Impassively] Mother wants you.
Margaret.Oh, Kit—would you take this for me? It’s for Mr. Meredith. I expect you’ll meet him, but if not, I want you to take it on. At once, Kit.
Kit.Right, Mrs. Fairfield!
Margaret.[Detaining him] What’s the matter, Kit?
Kit.[His head up] Nothing, Mrs. Fairfield.
Sydney.Mother, Kit’s got to go.
Kit.[Resentfully] It’s all right. I’m going. You needn’t worry.
Margaret.[Humorously, washing her hands of them] Oh, you two!
She turns away from them and stands, her arm on the mantel-piece, staring into the fire.Kitmarches to the door.
She turns away from them and stands, her arm on the mantel-piece, staring into the fire.Kitmarches to the door.
Sydney.[In spite of herself, softly] Kit!
Kit.[Quickly] Yes?
Sydney.[Recovering herself, impishly] You’ll give her my love?
Kit.You’re a beast, Sydney Fairfield! [He goes out with a slam.]
Sydney.[In a changed voice] You’ll give hermylove. [Running to the door.] Kit! [The door opens again, but it isGray Meredithwho comes in.]
Gray.Sydney, what’s wrong with Kit? He went past me like a gust of wind.
Margaret.[Coming up to them] He didn’t give you my note?
Gray.He never looked at me. What note?
Margaret.I—
Gray.Aren’t you ready? Why aren’t you dressed?
Margaret.I—
Gray.You must be quick, dearest.
Margaret.I— [She sways where she stands.]
Graygoes to her, and half clinging to him, half repulsing him, she sits down with her arm on the table and her head on her arm.
Graygoes to her, and half clinging to him, half repulsing him, she sits down with her arm on the table and her head on her arm.
Gray.Of course! Worn out! You should have come an hour ago.
Margaret.Yes.
Gray.Never mind that now. Sydney, get your mother’s wraps.
Margaret.[Agitated] Sydney—wait—no.
Gray.Warm things. It’s bitter, driving.
Sydney.[Uncertainly] Gray, I think—
Gray.Get them, please.
After a tiny pause and look at himSydneyobeys. You see her go upstairs and disappear along the gallery.
After a tiny pause and look at himSydneyobeys. You see her go upstairs and disappear along the gallery.
Gray.[Solicitous] I was afraid it would come hard on you. Has he—? But you can tell me all that later.
Margaret.I must tell it you now.
Gray.Be quick, then. We’ve got a fifty mile drive before us.
Margaret.[Not looking at him] I—I’m not coming.
Gray.[Smiling] Not? There, sit quiet a moment. My dear—my dear heart—you’re all to pieces.
Margaret.I’m not coming.
Gray.[Checking what he takes for hysteria]Margaret—Margaret—
Margaret.I’m not coming. It’s Hilary.
Gray.What? Collapsed again? I thought as much.
Margaret.I—
Gray.Tragic! But—it simplifies his problem, poor devil. Has Alliot charge of him?
Margaret.No, no. It’s not that. He’s not ill. He’s well. That’s it. He’s well—and—he won’t let me go.
Gray.He won’t, won’t he? [He turns from her.]
Margaret.Where are you going?
Gray.To settle this matter. Where is he?
Margaret.Leave him alone. It’s me you must punish. I’ve made up my mind. Oh, how am I to tell you? He convinced me. He—cried, Gray. [Then, asGraymakes a quick gesture] You mustn’t sneer. You must understand. He’s so unhappy. And there’s Sydney to think of. And Gray, he won’t marry us.
Gray.What’s that?
Margaret.The Rector. He’s been here.
Gray.[Furious] My God, why wasn’t I?
Margaret.And Aunt Hester—she made it worse. [Despairingly] You see what it is—they all think I’m wicked.
Gray.Damned insolence!
Margaret.But it’s not them—it’s Hilary. I did fight them. I can’t fight Hilary. I see it. It’s my own fault. I ought never to have let myself care for you.
Gray.Talk sense.
Margaret.But there it is. It’s too much for me. I’ve got to stay with him.
Gray.[For the first time taking her seriously] Say that again, Margaret, if you dare—
Margaret.I’ve got to—stay— [With a sharp crying note in her voice] Gray, Gray, don’t look at me like that!
He turns abruptly away from her and walks across to the hearth. He stands a moment, deep in thought, takes out and lights a cigarette, realises what he is doing, andwith an exclamation flings it into the fire. Then he comes toMargaret,who has not moved.
He turns abruptly away from her and walks across to the hearth. He stands a moment, deep in thought, takes out and lights a cigarette, realises what he is doing, andwith an exclamation flings it into the fire. Then he comes toMargaret,who has not moved.
Gray.[Very quietly] This—this is rather an extraordinary statement, isn’t it?
Margaret.[Shrinking] Don’t use—that tone.
Gray.I am being as patient as I can. But—it’s not easy.
Margaret.Easy—?
Gray.Do you mind telling me exactly what you mean?
Margaret.I can’t talk. You know I’m not clever. I’m trying to do what’s right—
Gray.Then shall I tell you?
Margaretmakes a little quick movement with her hands, but she says nothing.
Margaretmakes a little quick movement with her hands, but she says nothing.
Gray.[Watching her keenly while he speaks] You mean that you’ve made a mistake—
Margaret.[Misunderstanding] Yes.
Gray.—that the last five years goes for nothing—that you don’t care for me.
Margaret.Gray!
Gray.Wait. That you’ve never cared for me—that you don’t want to marry me—
Margaret.How can you say these things to me?
Gray.But aren’t they true?
Margaret.You know—you know they’re not true.
Gray.Then what do you mean when you say, “I won’t come?”
Margaret.I mean—Hilary. I’ve got to put him first because—because he’s weak. You—you’re strong.
Gray.Not strong enough to do without my birthright. I want my wife and my children. I’ve waited a long while for you. Now you must come.
Sydneycomes down the stairs, a red furred cloak over her arm. She pauses a few steps from the bottom, afraid to break in on them.
Sydneycomes down the stairs, a red furred cloak over her arm. She pauses a few steps from the bottom, afraid to break in on them.
Margaret.If Hilary’s left alone he’ll go mad again.
Gray.Margaret—come.
Margaret.How can I?
Gray.Margaret, my own heart—come.
Margaret.You oughtn’t to torture me. I’ve got to do what’s right.
Gray.[Darkening] Are you coming with me? I shan’t ask it again.
Margaret.Oh, God—You hear him! What am I to do?
Sydneycomes down another step.
Sydneycomes down another step.
Gray.Why, you’re to do as you choose. I shan’t force you. I’m not your turn-key. I’m not your beggar. We’re free people, you and I. It’s for you to say if you’ll keep your—conscience, do you call it?—and lose—
Margaret.I’ve lost what I love. There’s no more to lose.
Gray.You sing as sweetly as a toy nightingale. Almost I’d think you were real.
Margaret.[Wounded] I don’t know what you mean.
Gray.“What you love!” You don’t know the meaning of the notes you use.
Margaret.[Very white, but her voice is steady] Don’t deceive yourself. I love you. I ache and faint for you. I starve—
Sydney.[Appalled, whispering] What is it? I don’t know her.
Margaret.I’m withering without you like cut grass in the sun. I love you. I love you. Can’t you see how it is with me? But—
Gray.There’s no “but” in love.
Margaret.What is it in me? There’s a thing I can’t do. I can’t see such pain.
Gray.[Hoarsely] Do you thinkIcan’t suffer?
Margaret.Iamyou. But he—he’s so defenceless. It’s vivisection—like cutting a dumb beast about to make me well. I can’t do it. I’d rather die of my cancer.
Gray.[The storm breaking] Die then—you fool—you fool!
Sydneydescends another step. The cloak slides from her hands on to the baluster.
Sydneydescends another step. The cloak slides from her hands on to the baluster.
Gray.[Without expression] Good-bye.
Margaret.[Blindly] Forgive—
Gray.How can I?
Margaret.I would you—
Gray.D’you think I bear you malice? It’s not I. Why, to deny me, that’s a little thing. I’ll not go under because you’re faithless. But what you’re doing is the sin without forgiveness. You’re denying—not me—but life. You’re denying the spirit of life. You’re denying—you’re denying your mate.
Sydney.[Strung up to breaking point] Mother, you shall not.
Margaret.[As they both turn] Sydney!
Sydney.[Coming down to them] I tell you—I tell you, you shall not.
Margaret.[Sitting down, with a listless gesture] I must. There’s no way out.
Sydney.There is. Foryouthere is. I’ve thought it all along, and now I know. Father—he’s my job, not yours.
Margaret.[With a last flicker of passion] D’you think I’ll make a scape-goat of my own child?
Sydney.[Sternly] Can you help it? I’m his child. [She throws herself down beside her] Mother! Mother darling, don’t you see? You’re no good to him. You’re scared of him. But I’m his own flesh and blood. I know how he feels. I’ll make him happier than you can. Be glad for me. Be glad I’m wanted somewhere.
Margaret.[Struggling against the hope that is flooding her] But Kit, Sydney—Kit?
Sydney.[With a queer little laugh that ends, though it does not begin, quite naturally] Bless him, I’ll be dancing at his wedding in six months.
Margaret.But all you ought to have—
Sydney.[Jumping up flippantly] Oh, I’m off getting married. I’m going to have a career.
Margaret.—the love—the children—
Sydney.[Strained] No children for me, Mother. No children for me. I’ve lost my chance for ever.
Margaret.[Weakly] No—no—
Sydney.[Smiling down at her] But you—you take it. I give it to you.
Margaret.But—
Sydney.[Dominant] What’s the use of arguing? I’ve made up my mind.
Margaret.But if your father—
Sydney.[At the end of her endurance] Go away, Mother. Go away quickly. This is my job, not yours. [She turns abruptly from them to the window, and stands staring out into the darkening garden.]
Margaret.[Dazed] So—so— [She sways, hesitating, unbelieving, like a bird at the open door of its cage] So—I can come.
Graymakes no answer.
Margaret.[With a new full note in her voice] Gray, I can come.
Gray.[Without moving] Can you, Margaret?
Margaret.[In heaven] I can come.
Gray.[Impassively] Are you sure?
Margaret.[In quick alarm] What do you mean?
Gray.[Stonily] Why, you could deny me. You’ve chopped and changed. I want proof that you’ve still a right to come.
Margaret.[Like a child] You’re angry with me?
Gray.No.
Margaret.You’re angry with me.
Gray.I want proof.
Margaret.I get frightened. I’m made so. Always I’ve been afraid—of Hilary—of everyone—of life. But now—you—you’re angry, you’re so angry, you’re very angry with me—and I— [She goes steadily across the room to him. He makes no movement] I’m not afraid. [She puts up her hands, and drawing him down to her kisses him on the mouth.] Is that proof?
Gray.[Quietly] Proof enough. Come.
He takes the cloak and throws it round her. They go out together. AsSydney,forgotten, stands looking after them,Bassettenters with the tea-tray. She puts it down on the table and turns up the lights.
He takes the cloak and throws it round her. They go out together. AsSydney,forgotten, stands looking after them,Bassettenters with the tea-tray. She puts it down on the table and turns up the lights.
Bassett.Is the gentleman staying to tea, miss?
Sydney.[Correcting her] Mr. Fairfield. It’s my father, Bassett.
Bassett.We thought so, miss?
Sydney.[Smiling faintly] Did you, Bassett?
Bassett.He’s got your way, miss! Quick-like! [She opens the drawing-room door] Tea’s ready, ma’am. [Outside the motor drives away.]
Miss Fairfield.[Entering withHilary] Tea’s very late. [Bassettgoes out.]
Hilary.I thought I heard the sound of a car. [Suspiciously] Where’s your mother?
Sydney.She’s gone away.
Hilary.[Stricken] Gone?
Sydney.Gone away for good.
Hilary.Where?
Sydney.Out of our lives.
Hilary.With—?
Sydney.[Quickly] Out of our lives.
Miss Fairfield.[Furiously] This is your doing, Sydney.
Hilary.[Dazed] Gone. Everything gone.
Sydney.I’m not gone.
Hilary.But that boy—?
Sydney.That’s done with.
Miss Fairfield.You’ve jilted him?
Sydney.Yes.
Miss Fairfield.Like mother, like daughter.
Sydney.Just so.
Miss Fairfield.I pray you get your punishment.
Sydney.Your prayers will surely be answered, Auntie.
Hilary.[Slowly] It was a cruel thing to do.
Sydney.He’ll get over it. Men—they’re not like us.
Hilary.[Timidly] You loved him?
Sydney.What’s that to anyone but me?
Hilary.[Peering at her] You’re crying.
Sydney.I’m not.
Hilary.You love him?
Sydney.I suppose so.
Hilary.Then why? Then why?
Sydney.We’re in the same boat, Father.
Miss Fairfield.Yes, that’s the way they talk now, Hilary. They know too much, the young women. It upsets everything.
Hilarysits down on the sofa.
Hilarysits down on the sofa.
Hilary.[Broken] I don’t see ahead. I don’t see what’s to become of me. There’s no-one.
Sydney.There’s me.
Hilary.[Not looking at her] I should think you hate me.
Sydney.I need you just as badly as you need me.
Hilary.[Fiercely] It’s your damn-clever doing that she went. D’you think I can’t hate you?
Sydney.[Close to him] No, no, Father, you want me too much. We’ll make a good job of it yet.
Hilary.[His head in his hands] What job?
Sydney.[Petting him, coaxing him, loving him, her hands quieting his twitching hands, her strong will already controlling him] Living. I’ve got such plans already, Father—Father dear. We’ll do things. We’ll have a good time somehow, you and I—you and I. Did you know you’d got a cleverdaughter? Writing—painting—acting! We’ll go on tour together. We’ll make a lot of money. We’ll have a cottage somewhere. You see, I’ll make it up to you. I’ll make you proud of me.
Miss Fairfield.[Surveying them] Proud of her! D’you see, Hilary? That’s all she thinks of—self—self—self! Money, ambition—and sends that poor boy away. A parson’s son! Not good enough for her, that’s what it is. She’s like the rest of the young women. Hard as nails! Hard as nails!
Sydney.[Crying out] Don’t you listen to her, Father! Father, don’t believe her! I’m not hard. I’m not hard.
His arm goes round her with a gesture, awkward, timid, yet fatherly.
His arm goes round her with a gesture, awkward, timid, yet fatherly.
THE CURTAIN FALLS.
May-June, 1920.
Woods & Sons, Ltd., Printers, London, N. 1. (W.W.A.)