Part 6

BRIGID. Don’t be. He was always like that, meandering off by himself somewhere. He is a curious bird, Master Richard, and always was. Sure there isn’t a turn in him I don’t know. Are you fretting now maybe because he does be in there [_pointing to the study_] half the night at his books? Leave him alone. He’ll come back to you again. Sure he thinks the sun shines out of your face, ma’am.

BERTHA. [_Sadly._] That time is gone.

BRIGID. [_Confidentially._] And good cause I have to remember it—that time when he was paying his addresses to you. [_She sits down beside Bertha. In a lower voice._] Do you know that he used to tell me all about you and nothing to his mother, God rest her soul? Your letters and all.

BERTHA. What? My letters to him?

BRIGID. [_Delighted._] Yes. I can see him sitting on the kitchen table, swinging his legs and spinning out of him yards of talk about you and him and Ireland and all kinds of devilment—to an ignorant old woman like me. But that was always his way. But if he had to meet a grand highup person he’d be twice as grand himself. [_Suddenly looks at Bertha._] Is it crying you are now? Ah, sure, don’t cry. There’s good times coming still.

BERTHA. No, Brigid, that time comes only once in a lifetime. The rest of life is good for nothing except to remember that time.

BRIGID. [_Is silent for a moment: then says kindly._] Would you like a cup of tea, ma’am? That would make you all right.

BERTHA. Yes, I would. But the milkman has not come yet.

BRIGID. No. Master Archie told me to wake him before he came. He’s going out for a jaunt in the car. But I’ve a cup left overnight. I’ll have the kettle boiling in a jiffy. Would you like a nice egg with it?

BERTHA. No, thanks.

BRIGID. Or a nice bit of toast?

BERTHA. No, Brigid, thanks. Just a cup of tea.

BRIGID. [_Crossing to the folding doors._] I won’t be a moment. [_She stops, turns back and goes towards the door on the left._] But first I must waken Master Archie or there’ll be ructions.

[_She goes out by the door on the left. After a few moments Bertha rises and goes over to the study. She opens the door wide and looks in. One can see a small untidy room with many bookshelves and a large writingtable with papers and an extinguished lamp and before it a padded chair. She remains standing for some time in the doorway, then closes the door again without entering the room. She returns to her chair by the window and sits down. Archie, dressed as before, comes in by the door on the right, followed by Brigid._]

ARCHIE. [_Comes to her and, putting up his face to be kissed, says:_] _Buon giorno_, mamma!

BERTHA. [_Kissing him._] _Buon giorno_, Archie! [_To Brigid._] Did you put another vest on him under that one?

BRIGID. He wouldn’t let me, ma’am.

ARCHIE. I’m not cold, mamma.

BERTHA. I said you were to put it on, didn’t I?

ARCHIE. But where is the cold?

BERTHA. [_Takes a comb from her head and combs his hair back at both sides._] And the sleep is in your eyes still.

BRIGID. He went to bed immediately after you went out last night, ma’am.

ARCHIE. You know he’s going to let me drive, mamma.

BERTHA. [_Replacing the comb in her hair, embraces him suddenly._] O, what a big man to drive a horse!

BRIGID. Well, he’s daft on horses, anyhow.

ARCHIE. [_Releasing himself._] I’ll make him go quick. You will see from the window, mamma. With the whip. [_He makes the gesture of cracking a whip and shouts at the top of his voice._] _Avanti!_

BRIGID. Beat the poor horse, is it?

BERTHA. Come here till I clean your mouth. [_She takes her handkerchief from the pocket of her gown, wets it with her tongue and cleans his mouth._] You’re all smudges or something, dirty little creature you are.

ARCHIE. [_Repeats, laughing._] Smudges! What is smudges?

[_The noise is heard of a milkcan rattled on the railings before the window._]

BRIGID. [_Draws aside the curtains and looks out._] Here he is!

ARCHIE. [_Rapidly._] Wait. I’m ready. Goodbye, mamma! [_He kisses her hastily and turns to go._] Is pappie up?

BRIGID. [_Takes him by the arm._] Come on with you now.

BERTHA. Mind yourself, Archie, and don’t be long or I won’t let you go any more.

ARCHIE. All right. Look out of the window and you’ll see me. Goodbye.

[_Brigid and Archie go out by the door on the left. Bertha stands up and, drawing aside the curtains still more, stands in the embrasure of the window looking out. The hall door is heard opening: then a slight noise of voices and cans is heard. The door is closed. After a moment or two Bertha is seen waving her hand gaily in a salute. Brigid enters and stands behind her, looking over her shoulder._]

BRIGID. Look at the sit of him! As serious as you like.

BERTHA. [_Suddenly withdrawing from her post._] Stand out of the window. I don’t want to be seen.

BRIGID. Why, ma’am, what is it?

BERTHA. [_Crossing towards the folding doors._] Say I’m not up, that I’m not well. I can’t see anyone.

BRIGID. [_Follows her._] Who is it, ma’am?

BERTHA. [_Halting._] Wait a moment.

[_She listens. A knock is heard at the hall door._]

BERTHA. [_Stands a moment in doubt, then._] No, say I’m in.

BRIGID. [_In doubt._] Here?

BERTHA. [_Hurriedly._] Yes. Say I have just got up.

[_Brigid goes out on the left. Bertha goes towards the double doors and fingers the curtains nervously, as if settling them. The hall door is heard to open. Then Beatrice Justice enters and, as Bertha does not turn at once, stands in hesitation near the door on the left. She is dressed as before and has a newspaper in her hand._]

BEATRICE. [_Advances rapidly._] Mrs Rowan, excuse me for coming at such an hour.

BERTHA. [_Turns._] Good morning, Miss Justice. [_She comes towards her._] Is anything the matter?

BEATRICE. [_Nervously._] I don’t know. That is what I wanted to ask you.

BERTHA. [_Looks curiously at her._] You are out of breath. Won’t you sit down?

BEATRICE. [_Sitting down._] Thank you.

BERTHA. [_Sits opposite her, pointing to her paper._] Is there something in the paper?

BEATRICE. [_Laughs nervously: opens the paper._] Yes.

BERTHA. About Dick?

BEATRICE. Yes. Here it is. A long article, a leading article, by my cousin. All his life is here. Do you wish to see it?

BERTHA. [_Takes the paper, and opens it._] Where is it?

BEATRICE. In the middle. It is headed: _A Distinguished Irishman._

BERTHA. Is it... for Dick or against him?

BEATRICE. [_Warmly._] O, for him! You can read what he says about Mr Rowan. And I know that Robert stayed in town very late last night to write it.

BERTHA. [_Nervously._] Yes. Are you sure?

BEATRICE. Yes. Very late. I heard him come home. It was long after two.

BERTHA. [_Watching her._] It alarmed you? I mean to be awakened at that hour of the morning.

BEATRICE. I am a light sleeper. But I knew he had come from the office and then... I suspected he had written an article about Mr Rowan and that was why he came so late.

BERTHA. How quick you were to think of that!

BEATRICE. Well, after what took place here yesterday afternoon—I mean what Robert said, that Mr Rowan had accepted this position. It was only natural I should think...

BERTHA. Ah, yes. Naturally.

BEATRICE. [_Hastily._] But that is not what alarmed me. But immediately after I heard a noise in my cousin’s room.

BERTHA. [_Crumples together the paper in her hands, breathlessly._] My God! What is it? Tell me.

BEATRICE. [_Observing her._] Why does that upset you so much?

BERTHA. [_Sinking back, with a forced laugh._] Yes, of course, it is very foolish of me. My nerves are all upset. I slept very badly, too. That is why I got up so early. But tell me what was it then?

BEATRICE. Only the noise of his valise being pulled along the floor. Then I heard him walking about his room, whistling softly. And then locking it and strapping it.

BERTHA. He is going away!

BEATRICE. That was what alarmed me. I feared he had had a quarrel with Mr Rowan and that his article was an attack.

BERTHA. But why should they quarrel? Have you noticed anything between them?

BEATRICE. I thought I did. A coldness.

BERTHA. Lately?

BEATRICE. For some time past.

BERTHA. [_Smoothing the paper out._] Do you know the reason?

BEATRICE. [_Hesitatingly._] No.

BERTHA. [_After a pause._] Well, but if this article is for him, as you say, they have not quarrelled. [_She reflects a moment._] And written last night, too.

BEATRICE. Yes. I bought the paper at once to see. But why, then, is he going away so suddenly? I feel that there is something wrong. I feel that something has happened between them.

BERTHA. Would you be sorry?

BEATRICE. I would be very sorry. You see, Mrs Rowan, Robert is my first cousin and it would grieve me very deeply if he were to treat Mr Rowan badly, now that he has come back, or if they had a serious quarrel especially because...

BERTHA. [_Toying with the paper._] Because?

BEATRICE. Because it was my cousin who urged Mr Rowan always to come back. I have that on my conscience.

BERTHA. It should be on Mr Hand’s conscience, should it not?

BEATRICE. [_Uncertainly._] On mine, too. Because—I spoke to my cousin about Mr Rowan when he was away and, to a certain extent, it was I...

BERTHA. [_Nods slowly._] I see. And that is on your conscience. Only that?

BEATRICE. I think so.

BERTHA. [_Almost cheerfully._] It looks as if it was you, Miss Justice, who brought my husband back to Ireland.

BEATRICE. I, Mrs Rowan?

BERTHA. Yes, you. By your letters to him and then by speaking to your cousin as you said just now. Do you not think that you are the person who brought him back?

BEATRICE. [_Blushing suddenly._] No. I could not think that.

BERTHA. [_Watches her for a moment; then turning aside._] You know that my husband is writing very much since he came back.

BEATRICE. Is he?

BERTHA. Did you not know? [_She points towards the study._] He passes the greater part of the night in there writing. Night after night.

BEATRICE. In his study?

BERTHA. Study or bedroom. You may call it what you please. He sleeps there, too, on a sofa. He slept there last night. I can show you if you don’t believe me.

[_She rises to go towards the study. Beatrice half rises quickly and makes a gesture of refusal._]

BEATRICE. I believe you, of course, Mrs Rowan, when you tell me.

BERTHA. [_Sitting down again._] Yes. He is writing. And it must be about something which has come into his life lately—since we came back to Ireland. Some change. Do you know that any change has come into his life? [_She looks searchingly at her._] Do you know it or feel it?

BEATRICE. [_Answers her look steadily._] Mrs Rowan, that is not a question to ask me. If any change has come into his life since he came back you must know and feel it.

BERTHA. You could know it just as well. You are very intimate in this house.

BEATRICE. I am not the only person who is intimate here.

[_They both look at each other coldly in silence for some moments. Bertha lays aside the paper and sits down on a chair nearer to Beatrice._]

BERTHA. [_Placing her hand on Beatrice’s knee._] So you also hate me, Miss Justice?

BEATRICE. [_With an effort._] Hate you? I?

BERTHA. [_Insistently but softly._] Yes. You know what it means to hate a person?

BEATRICE. Why should I hate you? I have never hated anyone.

BERTHA. Have you ever loved anyone? [_She puts her hand on Beatrice’s wrist._] Tell me. You have?

BEATRICE. [_Also softly._] Yes. In the past.

BERTHA. Not now?

BEATRICE. No.

BERTHA. Can you say that to me—truly? Look at me.

BEATRICE. [_Looks at her._] Yes, I can.

[_A short pause. Bertha withdraws her hand, and turns away her head in some embarrassment._]

BERTHA. You said just now that another person is intimate in this house. You meant your cousin... Was it he?

BEATRICE. Yes.

BERTHA. Have you not forgotten him?

BEATRICE. [_Quietly._] I have tried to.

BERTHA. [_Clasping her hands._] You hate me. You think I am happy. If you only knew how wrong you are!

BEATRICE. [_Shakes her head._] I do not.

BERTHA. Happy! When I do not understand anything that he writes, when I cannot help him in any way, when I don’t even understand half of what he says to me sometimes! You could and you can. [_Excitedly._] But I am afraid for him, afraid for both of them. [_She stands up suddenly and goes towards the davenport._] He must not go away like that. [_She takes a writing pad from the drawer and writes a few lines in great haste._] No, it is impossible! Is he mad to do such a thing? [_Turning to Beatrice._] Is he still at home?

BEATRICE. [_Watching her in wonder._] Yes. Have you written to him to ask him to come here?

BERTHA. [_Rises._] I have. I will send Brigid across with it. Brigid!

[_She goes out by the door on the left rapidly._]

BEATRICE. [_Gazing after her, instinctively:_] It is true, then!

[_She glances toward the door of Richard’s study and catches her head in her hands. Then, recovering herself, she takes the paper from the little table, opens it, takes a spectacle case from her handbag and, putting on a pair of spectacles, bends down, reading it. Richard Rowan enters from the garden. He is dressed as before but wears a soft hat and carries a thin cane._]

RICHARD. [_Stands in the doorway, observing her for some moments._] There are demons [_he points out towards the strand_] out there. I heard them jabbering since dawn.

BEATRICE. [_Starts to her feet._] Mr Rowan!

RICHARD. I assure you. The isle is full of voices. Yours also, _Otherwise I could not see you,_ it said. And her voice. But, I assure you, they are all demons. I made the sign of the cross upside down and that silenced them.

BEATRICE. [_Stammering._] I came here, Mr Rowan, so early because... to show you this... Robert wrote it... about you... last night.

RICHARD. [_Takes off his hat._] My dear Miss Justice, you told me yesterday, I think, why you came here and I never forget anything. [_Advancing towards her, holding out his hand._] Good morning.

BEATRICE. [_Suddenly takes off her spectacles and places the paper in his hands._] I came for this. It is an article about you. Robert wrote it last night. Will you read it?

RICHARD. [_Bows._] Read it now? Certainly.

BEATRICE. [_Looks at him in despair._] O, Mr Rowan, it makes me suffer to look at you.

RICHARD. [_Opens and reads the paper._] _Death of the Very Reverend Canon Mulhall_. Is that it?

[_Bertha appears at the door on the left and stands to listen._]

RICHARD. [_Turns over a page._] Yes, here we are! _A Distinguished Irishman._ [_He begins to read in a rather loud hard voice._] Not the least vital of the problems which confront our country is the problem of her attitude towards those of her children who, having left her in her hour of need, have been called back to her now on the eve of her longawaited victory, to her whom in loneliness and exile they have at last learned to love. In exile, we have said, but here we must distinguish. There is an economic and there is a spiritual exile. There are those who left her to seek the bread by which men live and there are others, nay, her most favoured children, who left her to seek in other lands that food of the spirit by which a nation of human beings is sustained in life. Those who recall the intellectual life of Dublin of a decade since will have many memories of Mr Rowan. Something of that fierce indignation which lacerated the heart...

[_He raises his eyes from the paper and sees Bertha standing in the doorway. Then he lays aside the paper and looks at her. A long silence._]

BEATRICE. [_With an effort._] You see, Mr Rowan, your day has dawned at last. Even here. And you see that you have a warm friend in Robert, a friend who understands you.

RICHARD. Did you notice the little phrase at the beginning: _those who left her in her hour of need?_

[_He looks searchingly at Bertha, turns and walks into his study, closing the door behind him._]

BERTHA. [_Speaking half to herself._] I gave up everything for him, religion, family, my own peace.

[_She sits down heavily in an armchair. Beatrice comes towards her._]

BEATRICE. [_Weakly._] But do you not feel also that Mr Rowan’s ideas...

BERTHA. [_Bitterly._] Ideas and ideas! But the people in this world have other ideas or pretend to. They have to put up with him in spite of his ideas because he is able to do something. Me, no. I am nothing.

BEATRICE. You stand by his side.

BERTHA. [_With increasing bitterness._] Ah, nonsense, Miss Justice! I am only a thing he got entangled with and my son is—the nice name they give those children. Do you think I am a stone? Do you think I don’t see it in their eyes and in their manner when they have to meet me?

BEATRICE. Do not let them humble you, Mrs Rowan.

BERTHA. [_Haughtily._] Humble me! I am very proud of myself, if you want to know. What have they ever done for him? I made him a man. What are they all in his life? No more than the dirt under his boots! [_She stands up and walks excitedly to and fro._] He can despise me, too, like the rest of them—now. And you can despise me. But you will never humble me, any of you.

BEATRICE. Why do you accuse me?

BERTHA. [_Going to her impulsively._] I am in such suffering. Excuse me if I was rude. I want us to be friends. [_She holds out her hands._] Will you?

BEATRICE. [_Taking her hands._] Gladly.

BERTHA. [_Looking at her._] What lovely long eyelashes you have! And your eyes have such a sad expression!

BEATRICE. [_Smiling._] I see very little with them. They are very weak.

BERTHA. [_Warmly._] But beautiful.

[_She embraces her quietly and kisses her. Then withdraws from her a little shyly. Brigid comes in from the left._]

BRIGID. I gave it to himself, ma’am.

BERTHA. Did he send a message?

BRIGID. He was just going out, ma’am. He told me to say he’d be here after me.

BERTHA. Thanks.

BRIGID. [_Going._] Would you like the tea and the toast now, ma’am?

BERTHA. Not now, Brigid. After perhaps. When Mr Hand comes show him in at once.

BRIGID. Yes, ma’am.

[_She goes out on the left._]

BEATRICE. I will go now, Mrs Rowan, before he comes.

BERTHA. [_Somewhat timidly._] Then we are friends?

BEATRICE. [_In the same tone._] We will try to be. [_Turning._] Do you allow me to go out through the garden? I don’t want to meet my cousin now.

BERTHA. Of course. [_She takes her hand._] It is so strange that we spoke like this now. But I always wanted to. Did you?

BEATRICE. I think I did, too.

BERTHA. [_Smiling._] Even in Rome. When I went out for a walk with Archie I used to think about you, what you were like, because I knew about you from Dick. I used to look at different persons, coming out of churches or going by in carriages, and think that perhaps they were like you. Because Dick told me you were dark.

BEATRICE. [_Again nervously._] Really?

BERTHA. [_Pressing her hand._] Goodbye then—for the present.

BEATRICE. [_Disengaging her hand._] Good morning.

BERTHA. I will see you to the gate.

[_She accompanies her out through the double doors. They go down through the garden. Richard Rowan comes in from the study. He halts near the doors, looking down the garden. Then he turns away, comes to the little table, takes up the paper and reads. Bertha, after some moments, appears in the doorway and stands watching him till he has finished. He lays down the paper again and turns to go back to his study._]

BERTHA. Dick!

RICHARD. [_Stopping._] Well?

BERTHA. You have not spoken to me.

RICHARD. I have nothing to say. Have you?

BERTHA. Do you not wish to know—about what happened last night?

RICHARD. That I will never know.

BERTHA. I will tell you if you ask me.

RICHARD. You will tell me. But I will never know. Never in this world.

BERTHA. [_Moving towards him._] I will tell you the truth, Dick, as I always told you. I never lied to you.

RICHARD. [_Clenching his hands in the air, passionately._] Yes, yes. The truth! But I will never know, I tell you.

BERTHA. Why, then, did you leave me last night?

RICHARD. [_Bitterly._] In your hour of need.

BERTHA. [_Threateningly._] You urged me to it. Not because you love me. If you loved me or if you knew what love was you would not have left me. For your own sake you urged me to it.

RICHARD. I did not make myself. I am what I am.

BERTHA. To have it always to throw against me. To make me humble before you, as you always did. To be free yourself. [_Pointing towards the garden._] With her! And that is your love! Every word you say is false.

RICHARD. [_Controlling himself._] It is useless to ask you to listen to me.

BERTHA. Listen to you! She is the person for listening. Why would you waste your time with me? Talk to her.

RICHARD. [_Nods his head._] I see. You have driven her away from me now, as you drove everyone else from my side—every friend I ever had, every human being that ever tried to approach me. You hate her.

BERTHA. [_Warmly._] No such thing! I think you have made her unhappy as you have made me and as you made your dead mother unhappy and killed her. Womankiller! That is your name.

RICHARD. [_Turns to go._] _Arrivederci!_

BERTHA. [_Excitedly._] She is a fine and high character. I like her. She is everything that I am not—in birth and education. You tried to ruin her but you could not. Because she is well able for you—what I am not. And you know it.

RICHARD. [_Almost shouting._] What the devil are you talking about her for?

BERTHA. [_Clasping her hands._] O, how I wish I had never met you! How I curse that day!

RICHARD. [_Bitterly._] I am in the way, is it? You would like to be free now. You have only to say the word.

BERTHA. [_Proudly._] Whenever you like I am ready.

RICHARD. So that you could meet your lover—freely?

BERTHA. Yes.

RICHARD. Night after night?

BERTHA. [_Gazing before her and speaking with intense passion._] To meet my lover! [_Holding out her arms before her._] My lover! Yes! My lover!

[_She bursts suddenly into tears and sinks down on a chair, covering her face with her hands. Richard approaches her slowly and touches her on the shoulder._]

RICHARD. Bertha! [_She does not answer._] Bertha, you are free.