Part 14

(_He goes out, turning left_. MADELINE _goes to the window and looks after him. A moment later, hearing someone at the door, she turns and finds her_ AUNT ISABEL, _who has appeared from right. Goes swiftly to her, hands out_.)

MADELINE: Oh, _auntie_--I'm glad you came! It's my birthday, and I'm--lonely.

AUNT ISABEL: You dear little girl! (_again giving her a hug, which_ MADELINE _returns, lovingly_) Don't I know it's your birthday? Don't think that day will ever get by while your Aunt Isabel's around. Just see what's here for your birthday. (_hands her the package she is carrying_)

MADELINE: (_with a gasp--suspecting from its shape_) Oh! (_her face aglow_) Why--_is_ it?

AUNT ISABEL: (_laughing affectionately_) Foolish child, open it and see.

(MADELINE _loosens the paper and pulls out a tennis racket_.)

MADELINE: (_excited, and moved_) Oh, aunt Isabel! that was dear of you. I shouldn't have thought you'd--quite do that.

AUNT ISABEL: I couldn't imagine Madeline without a racket. (_gathering up the paper, lightly reproachful_) But be a little careful of it, Madeline. It's meant for tennis balls. (_they laugh together_)

MADELINE: (_making a return with it_) It's a _peach_. (_changing_) Wonder where I'll play now.

AUNT ISABEL: Why, you'll play on the courts at Morton College. Who has a better right?

MADELINE: Oh, I don't know. It's pretty much balled up, isn't it?

AUNT ISABEL: Yes; we'll have to get it straightened out. (_gently_) It was really dreadful of you, Madeline, to rush out a second time. It isn't as if they were people who were anything to you.

MADELINE: But, auntie, they are something to me.

AUNT ISABEL: Oh, dear, that's what Horace said.

MADELINE: What's what Horace said?

AUNT ISABEL: That you must have a case on one of them.

MADELINE: That's what Horace would say. That makes me sore!

AUNT ISABEL: I'm sorry I spoke of it. Horace is absurd in some ways.

MADELINE: He's a--

AUNT ISABEL: (_stopping it with her hand_) No, he isn't. He's a headstrong boy, but a very loving one. He's dear with me, Madeline.

MADELINE: Yes. You are good to each other. (_her eyes are drawn to the cell_)

AUNT ISABEL: Of course we are. We'd be a pretty poor sort if we weren't. And these are days when we have to stand together--all of us who are the same kind of people must stand together because the thing that makes us the same kind of people is threatened.

MADELINE: Don't you think we're rather threatening it ourselves, auntie?

AUNT ISABEL: Why, no, we're fighting for it.

MADELINE: Fighting for what?

AUNT ISABEL: For Americanism; for--democracy.

MADELINE: Horace is fighting for it?

AUNT ISABEL: Well, Horace does go at it as if it were a football game, but his heart's in the right place.

MADELINE: Somehow, I don't seem to see my heart in that place.

AUNT ISABEL: In what place?

MADELINE: Where Horace's heart is.

AUNT ISABEL: It's too bad you and Horace quarrel. But you and I don't quarrel, Madeline.

MADELINE: (_again drawn to the cell_) No. You and I don't quarrel. (_she is troubled_)

AUNT ISABEL: Funny child! Do you want us to?

(MADELINE _turns, laughing a little, takes the dish from the table, holds it out to her aunt_.)

MADELINE: Have some fudge, auntie.

AUNT ISABEL: (_taking the dish_) Do you _use_ them?--the old Hungarian dishes? (_laughingly_) I'm not allowed to--your uncle is so choice of the few pieces we have. And here are you with fudge in one of them.

MADELINE: I made the fudge because--oh, I don't know, I had to do something to celebrate my birthday.

AUNT ISABEL: (_under her breath_) Dearie!

MADELINE: And then that didn't seem to--make a birthday, so I happened to see this, way up on a top shelf, and I remembered that it was my mother's. It was nice to get it down and use it--almost as if mother was giving me a birthday present.

AUNT ISABEL: And how she would love to give you a birthday present.

MADELINE: It was her mother's, I suppose, and they brought it from Hungary.

AUNT ISABEL: Yes. They brought only a very few things with them, and left--oh, so many beautiful ones behind.

MADELINE: (_quietly_) Rather nice of them, wasn't it? (_her aunt waits inquiringly_) To leave their own beautiful things--their own beautiful life behind--simply because they believed life should be more beautiful for more people.

AUNT ISABEL: (_with constraint_) Yes. (_gayly turning it_) Well, now, as to the birthday. What do you suppose Sarah is doing this instant? Putting red frosting on white frosting, (_writing it with her finger_) Madeline. And what do you suppose Horace is doing? (_this a little reproachfully_) Running around buying twenty-one red candles. Twenty-two--one to grow on. Big birthday cake. Party to-night.

MADELINE: But, auntie, I don't see how I can be there.

AUNT ISABEL: Listen, dear. Now, we've got to use our wits and all pull together. Of course we'd do anything in the world rather than see you--left to outsiders. I've never seen your uncle as worried, and--truly, Madeline, as sad. Oh, my dear, it's these human things that count! What would life be without the love we have for each other?

MADELINE: The love we have for each other?

AUNT ISABEL: Why, yes, dearest. Don't turn away from me Madeline. Don't--don't be strange. I wonder if you realize how your uncle has worked to have life a happy thing for all of us? Be a little generous to him. He's had this great burden of bringing something from another day on into this day. It is not as simple as it may seem. He's done it as best he could. It will hurt him as nothing has ever hurt him if you now undo that work of his life. Truly, dear, do you feel you know enough about it to do that? Another thing: people are a little absurd out of their own places. We need to be held in our relationships--against our background--or we are--I don't know--grotesque. Come now, Madeline, where's your sense of humour? Isn't it a little absurd for you to leave home over India's form of government?

MADELINE: It's not India. It's America. A sense of humour is nothing to hide behind!

AUNT ISABEL: (_with a laugh_) I knew I wouldn't be a success at world affairs--better leave that to Professor Holden. (_a quick keen look from_ MADELINE) They've driven on to the river--they'll be back for me, and then he wants to stop in for a visit with you while I take Mrs Holden for a further ride. I'm worried about her. She doesn't gain strength at all since her operation. I'm going to try keeping her out in the air all I can.

MADELINE: It's dreadful about families!

AUNT ISABEL: Dreadful? Professor Holden's devotion to his wife is one of the most beautiful things I've ever seen.

MADELINE: And is that all you see it in?

AUNT ISABEL: You mean the--responsibility it brings? Oh, well--that's what life is. Doing for one another. Sacrificing for one another.

MADELINE: I hope I never have a family.

AUNT ISABEL: Well, I hope you do. You'll miss the best of life if you don't. Anyway, you have a family. Where is your father?

MADELINE: I don't know.

AUNT ISABEL: I'd like to see him.

MADELINE: There's no use seeing him today.

AUNT ISABEL: He's--?

MADELINE: Strange--shut in--afraid something's going to be taken from him.

AUNT ISABEL: Poor Ira. So much has been taken from him. And now you. Don't hurt him again, Madeline. He can't bear it. You see what it does to him.

MADELINE: He has--the wrong idea about things.

AUNT ISABEL: 'The wrong idea!' Oh, my child--that's awfully young and hard. It's so much deeper than that. Life has made him into something--something he can't escape.

MADELINE: (_with what seems sullenness_) Well, I don't want to be made into that thing.

AUNT ISABEL: Of course not. But you want to help him, don't you? Now, dear--about your birthday party--

MADELINE: The United States Commissioner is giving me my birthday party.

AUNT ISABEL: Well, he'll have to put his party off. Your uncle has been thinking it all out. We're to go to his office and you'll have a talk with him and with Judge Watkins. He's off the state supreme bench now--practising again, and as a favour to your uncle he will be your lawyer. You don't know how relieved we are at this, for Judge Watkins can do--anything he wants to do, practically. Then you and I will go on home and call up some of the crowd to come in and dance to-night. We have some beautiful new records. There's a Hungarian waltz--

MADELINE: And what's the price of all this, auntie?

AUNT ISABEL: The--Oh, you mean--Why, simply say you felt sorry for the Hindu students because they seemed rather alone; that you hadn't realized--what they were, hadn't thought out what you were saying--

MADELINE: And that I'm sorry and will never do it again.

AUNT ISABEL: I don't know that you need say that. It would be gracious, I think, to indicate it.

MADELINE: I'm sorry you--had the cake made. I suppose you can eat it, anyway. I (_turning away_)--can't eat it.

AUNT ISABEL: Why--Madeline.

(_Seeing how she has hurt her_, MADELINE _goes out to her aunt_.)

MADELINE: Auntie, dear! I'm sorry--if I hurt your feelings.

AUNT ISABEL: (_quick to hold out a loving hand, laughing a little_) They've been good birthday cakes, haven't they, Madeline?

MADELINE: (_she now trying not to cry_) I don't know--what I'd have done without them. Don't know--what I will do without them. I don't--see it.

AUNT ISABEL: Don't try to. Please don't see it! Just let me go on helping you. That's all I ask. (_she draws_ MADELINE _to her_) Ah, dearie, I held you when you were a little baby without your mother. All those years count for something, Madeline. There's just nothing to life if years of love don't count for something. (_listening_) I think I hear them. And here are we, weeping like two idiots. (MADELINE _brushes away tears_, AUNT ISABEL _arranges her veil, regaining her usual poise_) Professor Holden was hoping you'd take a tramp with him. Wouldn't that do you good? Anyway, a talk with him will be nice. I know he admires you immensely, and really--perhaps I shouldn't let you know this--sympathizes with your feeling. So I think his maturer way of looking at things will show you just the adjustment you need to become a really big and useful person. There's so much to be done in the world, Madeline. Of course we ought to make it a better world. (_in a manner of agreement with_ MADELINE) I feel very strongly about all that. Perhaps we can do some things together. I'd love that. Don't think I'm hopeless! Way down deep we have the same feeling. Yes, here's Professor Holden.

(HOLDEN _comes in. He seems older_.)

HOLDEN: And how are you, Madeline? (_holding out his hand_)

MADELINE: I'm--all right.

HOLDEN: Many happy returns of the day. (_embarrassed by her half laugh_) The birthday.

AUNT ISABEL: And did you have a nice look up the river?

HOLDEN: I never saw this country as lovely as it is to-day. Mary is just drinking it in.

AUNT ISABEL: You don't think the further ride will be too much?

HOLDEN: Oh, no--not in that car.

AUNT ISABEL: Then we'll go on--perhaps as far as Laughing Creek. If you two decide on a tramp--take that road and we'll pick you up. (_smiling warmly, she goes out_)

HOLDEN: How good she is.

MADELINE: Yes. That's just the trouble.

HOLDEN: (_with difficulty getting past this_) How about a little tramp? There'll never be another such day.

MADELINE: I used to tramp with Fred Jordan. This is where he is now. (_stepping inside the cell_) He doesn't even see out.

HOLDEN: It's all wrong that he should be where he is. But for you to stay indoors won't help him, Madeline.

MADELINE: It won't help him, but--today--I can't go out.

HOLDEN: I'm sorry, my child. When this sense of wrongs done first comes down upon one, it does crush.

MADELINE: And later you get used to it and don't care.

HOLDEN: You care. You try not to destroy yourself needlessly. (_he turns from her look_)

MADELINE: Play safe.

HOLDEN: If it's playing safe it's that one you love more than yourself be safe. It would be a luxury to--destroy one's self.

MADELINE: That sounds like Uncle Felix. (_seeing she has hurt him, she goes over and sits across from him at the table_) I'm sorry. I say the wrong things today.

HOLDEN: I don't know that you do.

MADELINE: But isn't uncle funny? His left mind doesn't know what his right mind is doing. He has to think of himself as a person of sentiment--idealism, and--quite a job, at times. Clever--how he gets away with it. The war must have been a godsend to people who were in danger of getting on to themselves. But I should think you could fool all of yourself all the time.

HOLDEN: You don't. (_he is rubbing his hand on the table_)

MADELINE: Grandfather Morton made this table. I suppose he and Grandfather Fejevary used to sit here and talk--they were great old pals. (_slowly_ HOLDEN _turns and looks out at the hill_) Yes. How beautiful the hill must have been--before there was a college there. (_he looks away from the hill_) Did you know Grandfather Morton?

HOLDEN: Yes, I knew him. (_speaking of it against his will_) I had a wonderful talk with him once; about Greece--and the cornfields, and life.

MADELINE: I'd like to have been a pioneer! Some ways they had it fierce, but think of the fun they had! A whole big land to open up! A big new life to begin! (_her hands closing in from wideness to a smaller thing_) Why did so much get shut out? Just a little way back--anything might have been. What happened?

HOLDEN: (_speaking with difficulty_) It got--set too soon.

MADELINE: (_all of her mind open, trying to know_) And why did it? Prosperous, I suppose. That seems to set things--set them in fear. Silas Morton wasn't afraid of Felix Fejevary, the Hungarian revolutionist. He laid this country at that refugee's feet! That's what Uncle Felix says himself--with the left half of his mind. Now--the Hindu revolutionists--! (_pause_) I took a walk late yesterday afternoon. Night came, and for some reason I thought of how many nights have come--nights the earth has known long before we knew the earth. The moon came up and I thought of how moonlight made this country beautiful before any man knew that moonlight was beautiful. It gave me a feeling of coming from something a long way back. Moving toward--what will be here when I'm not here. Moving. We seem here, now, in America, to have forgotten we're moving. Think it's just _us_--just now. Of course, that would make us afraid, and--ridiculous.

(_Her father comes in_.)

IRA: Your Aunt Isabel--did she go away--and leave you?

MADELINE: She's coming back.

IRA: For you?

MADELINE: She--wants me to go with her. This is Professor Holden, father.

HOLDEN: How do you do, Mr Morton?

IRA: (_nods, not noticing_ HOLDEN_'s offered hand_) How'do. When is she coming back?

MADELINE: Soon.

IRA: And then you're going with her?

MADELINE: I--don't know.

IRA: I say you go with her. You want them all to come down on us? (_to_ HOLDEN) What are you here for?

MADELINE: Aunt Isabel brought Professor Holden, father.

IRA: Oh. Then you--you tell her what to do. You make her do it. (_he goes into the room at left_)

MADELINE: (_sadly, after a silence_) Father's like something touched by an early frost.

HOLDEN: Yes. (_seeing his opening and forcing himself to take it_) But do you know, Madeline, there are other ways of that happening--'touched by an early frost'. I've seen it happen to people I know--people of fine and daring mind. They do a thing that puts them apart--it may be the big, brave thing--but the apartness does something to them. I've seen it many times--so many times--so many times, I fear for you. You do this thing and you'll find yourself with people who in many ways you don't care for at all; find yourself apart from people who in most ways are your own people. You're many-sided, Madeline. (_moves her tennis racket_) I don't know about it's all going to one side. I hate to see you, so young, close a door on so much life. I'm being just as honest with you as I know how. I myself am making compromises to stay within. I don't like it, but there are--reasons for doing it. I can't see you leave that main body without telling you all it is you are leaving. It's not a clean-cut case--the side of the world or the side of the angels. I hate to see you lose the--fullness of life.

MADELINE: (_a slight start, as she realizes the pause. As one recalled from far_) I'm sorry. I was listening to what you were saying--but all the time--something else was happening. Grandfather Morton, big and--oh, terrible. He was here. And we went to that walled-up hole in the ground--(_rising and pointing down at the chalked cell_)--where they keep Fred Jordan on bread and water because he couldn't be a part of nations of men killing each other--and Silas Morton--only he was all that is back of us, tore open that cell--it was his voice tore it open--his voice as he cried, 'God damn you, this is America!' (_sitting down, as if rallying from a tremendous experience_) I'm sorry--it should have happened, while you were speaking. Won't you--go on?

HOLDEN: That's a pretty hard thing to go on against. (_after a moment_) I can't go on.

MADELINE: You were thinking of leaving the college, and then--decided to stay? (_he nods_) And you feel there's more--fullness of life for you inside the college than outside?

HOLDEN: No--not exactly. (_again a pause_) It's very hard for me to talk to you.

MADELINE: (_gently_) Perhaps we needn't do it.

HOLDEN: (_something in him forcing him to say it_) I'm staying for financial reasons.

MADELINE: (_kind, but not going to let the truth get away_) You don't think that--having to stay within--or deciding to, rather, makes you think these things of the--blight of being without?

HOLDEN: I think there is danger to you in--so young, becoming alien to society.

MADELINE: As great as the danger of staying within--and becoming like the thing I'm within?

HOLDEN: You wouldn't become like it.

MADELINE: Why wouldn't I? That's what it does to the rest of you. I don't see it--this fullness of life business. I don't see that Uncle Felix has got it--or even Aunt Isabel, and you--I think that in buying it you're losing it.

HOLDEN: I don't think you know what a cruel thing you are saying.

MADELINE: There must be something pretty rotten about Morton College if you have to sell your soul to stay in it!

HOLDEN: You don't 'sell your soul'. You persuade yourself to wait.

MADELINE: (_unable to look at him, as if feeling shame_) You have had a talk with Uncle Felix since that day in the library you stepped aside for me to pass.

HOLDEN: Yes; and with my wife's physician. If you sell your soul--it's to love you sell it.

MADELINE: (_low_) That's strange. It's love that--brings life along, and then it's love--holds life back.

HOLDEN: (_and all the time with this effort against hopelessness_) Leaving me out of it, I'd like to see you give yourself a little more chance for detachment. You need a better intellectual equipment if you're going to fight the world you find yourself in. I think you will count for more if you wait, and when you strike, strike more maturely.

MADELINE: Detachment. (_pause_) This is one thing they do at this place. (_she moves to the open door_) Chain them up to the bars--just like this. (_in the doorway where her two grandfathers once pledged faith with the dreams of a million years, she raises clasped hands as high as they will go_) Eight hours a day--day after day. Just hold your arms up like this one hour then sit down and think about--(_as if tortured by all who have been so tortured, her body begins to give with sobs, arms drop, the last word is a sob_) detachment.

HOLDEN _is standing helplessly by when her father comes in_.

IRA: (_wildly_) Don't cry. No! Not in this house! I can't--Your aunt and uncle will fix it up. The law won't take you this time--and you won't do it again.

MADELINE: Oh, what does _that_ matter--what they do to _me_?

IRA: What are you crying about then?

MADELINE: It's--the _world_. It's--

IRA: The _world_? If that's all you've got to cry about! (_to_ HOLDEN) Tell her that's nothing to cry about. What's the matter with you. Mad'line? That's crazy--cryin' about the world! What good has ever come to this house through carin' about the world? What good's that college? Better we had that hill. Why is there no one in this house to-day but me and you? Where's your mother? Where's your brother? The _world_.

HOLDEN: I think your father would like to talk to you. I'll go outside--walk a little, and come back for you with your aunt. You must let us see you through this, Madeline. You couldn't bear the things it would bring you to. I see that now. (_as he passes her in the doorway his hand rests an instant on her bent head_) You're worth too much to break.

IRA: (_turning away_) I don't want to talk to you. What good comes of talking? (_In moving, he has stepped near the sack of corn. Takes hold of it_.) But not with Emil Johnson! That's not--what your mother died for.

MADELINE: Father, you must talk to me. What did my mother die for? No one has ever told me about her--except that she was beautiful--not like other people here. I got a feeling of--something from far away. Something from long ago. Rare. Why can't Uncle Felix talk about her? Why can't you? Wouldn't she want me to know her? Tell me about her. It's my birthday and I need my mother.

IRA: (_as if afraid he is going to do it_) How can you touch--what you've not touched in nineteen years? Just once--in nineteen years--and that did no good.

MADELINE: Try. Even though it hurts. Didn't you use to talk to her? Well, I'm her daughter. Talk to me. What has she to do with Emil Johnson?

IRA: (_the pent-up thing loosed_) What has she to do with him? She died so he could live. He lives because she's dead, (_in anguish_) And what is _he_ alongside her? Yes. Something from far away. Something from long ago. Rare. How'd you know that? Finding in me--what I didn't know was there. Then _she_ came--that ignorant Swede--Emil Johnson's mother--running through the cornfield like a crazy woman--'Miss Morton! Miss Morton! Come help me! My children are choking!' Diphtheria they had--the whole of 'em--but out of this house she ran--my Madeline, leaving you--her own baby--running as fast as she could through the cornfield after that immigrant woman. She stumbled in the rough field--fell to her knees. That was the last I saw of her. She choked to death in that Swede's house. They lived.

MADELINE: (_going to him_) Oh--father, (_voice rich_) But how lovely of her.

IRA: Lovely? Lovely to leave you without a mother--leave me without her after I'd had her? Wasn't she worth more than them.

MADELINE: (_proudly_) Yes. She was worth so much that she never stopped to think how much she was worth.