Part 4

[_His hand on her shoulder._] He fled from his own people and came to me. He was half crazy by that time, and went babbling like a fool right and left. I thought of having him shot. I thought of one thing after another. Selim was with me; and that night Selim fell upon him in his sleep, and made sure of his silence!

VERA.

[_Recoils in horror and puts her hand over her mouth._] You never----

CARLYON.

I never spoke a word, but my thought somehow drilled its way into his brain, and when I woke in the morning the thing was done.--Rouse yourself! You are the daughter of a man born for greatness, a man who does what others dream of! You love me, and you dare not disobey! [_She raises her eyes to his in a fascinated, half-stupefied way._] Read that letter!

VERA.

[_Utterly unnerved._] I can't read! What is it?

CARLYON.

Adene has come back from Bhojâl. He is almost dying, but---- Do you see that?

VERA.

What is it?

CARLYON.

[_Taking the letter back and speaking in a tone of anger and fear._] Selim is with him!

VERA.

Then Selim can defend you, not I! [_He stops her as he is trying to rise._] Oh, let me go!

CARLYON.

Selim won't defend me! After that morning he knew too much. It was two nights later, in the jungle.--Are you listening?

VERA.

Yes. You murdered him too! What is it you want of me?

CARLYON.

No! The wretch knew what was in my mind. He dodged my stroke, and I only cut through his arm, and he went over, wounded, to the enemy.

VERA.

And now he has come back?

CARLYON.

Now this Adene has hunted him out, and they are going to Travancore to Koreb's prison.

VERA.

And am I to murder some one? Who is it?

CARLYON.

Vera, you are sobbing like a hysterical girl. Look things in the face! There is no question of murder.

VERA.

Oh! it is all murder! [_Gets up._] There is nothing but murder! You have done too much, and they are crowding from their graves against you. There is no escape--oh, thank God, there is no escape! Now I can forgive you everything; you have only to suffer and let them hunt you to death!

CARLYON.

[_Rising._] No escape? Is it Adene and two half mad natives you are afraid of?

VERA.

Oh, make me see that what you did was right! I shall believe everything. Only I am weak, and I can't bear it if you leave me without help.

CARLYON.

Vera take my hands--[_She does so._]--look me in the face. My cause was worth a war, and I made it. It claimed Koreb and Selim, and I sacrificed them. Am I now to prolong the life of one dying man that all the sacrifices of the past may be wasted? Do you see?

VERA.

Yes, I am stronger now. I don't care about the past. I will do what you bid me.

CARLYON.

Well, the first thing is to telegraph--[_He makes a slight pause: then deliberately_]--so that he shall come to England and miss Rheinhardt.

[_Throughout this scene_ CARLYON _has fixed his eyes on_ VERA, _controlling her with them, except for sudden outbreaks. Her manner gradually becomes submissive and dazed, as if she were answering each question in answer to the outside stimulus, without fully understanding what she said._

VERA.

Yes.

CARLYON.

Will that be enough?

VERA.

No! It is not safe. Other people here could operate.

CARLYON.

Then what do you advise?

VERA.

I must go with Dr. Rheinhardt to India.

CARLYON.

And then?

VERA.

[_Sweeping her other hand across her brow._] I won't say it. I never thought of it myself; it is only _your_ thought drilling itself into my brain!

CARLYON.

You can _help_ Rheinhardt when he operates.

VERA.

They will never let me help.

CARLYON.

Don't you see, if you go to India to nurse him, Rheinhardt will think you are in love with the man?

VERA.

[_Appealing for mercy._] I believe I was once---- Oh, Father! Father!

CARLYON.

[_Lets her go; moving towards door._] Think of it by yourself. [_Turning to her._] I leave you your full freedom! [_To himself._] I wish Elizabeth were here.

VERA.

Oh, don't leave me alone!

CARLYON.

[_Continuing, without regard to her appeal._] Think of it quietly! [_Exit_ CARLYON, R.

[VERA _follows_ CARLYON _towards the door, then runs to the window and puts her head out_.

_Enter_ ELIZABETH.

ELIZABETH.

Vera, my eagle is dead! [VERA _silent_.] I felt sure it was coming, he has been so changed these last days,--he has been afraid of things!

VERA.

[_Looking round for a moment, startled, as if she did not understand._] Oh, the eagle! [_Leans out again._

ELIZABETH.

Why, childie! Are you crying? What is the matter?

VERA.

Don't mind me, Elizabeth. I feel just like a child crying.

ELIZABETH.

You have been studying too much. That is it!

VERA.

No, I am only left alone.

ELIZABETH.

Why are you alone? You need not be, dear.

[_Goes up and offers_ VERA _her hand_.

VERA.

[_Reaching her hand back to_ ELIZABETH, _without looking in_.] Thank you, Elizabeth. You are kind to me. But you cannot be any good to me now.

ELIZABETH.

Very well, my dear. Only you will feel better if you trust somebody. It is always so.

VERA.

Who is there to trust? I mean to betray some one who trusts me.

ELIZABETH.

My dear, I think you had better come in from that window. [_Turns._] What can you see to keep you out there?

VERA.

Would you like to know? [ELIZABETH _shows increasing emotion during this speech of_ VERA'S.] I see a sort of wide bottomless sheet of water,--it is only the spread of moonlight, you know. A great wide sheet of water--down there--and there is some one drowning in it. I can see his two eyes looking up to me from the depths of it, and there are his hands somewhere reaching out to me for help; and, do you know what, Elizabeth? I shall reach down and down until I can grip them, and then I shall hold him under the water till he is cold and dead---- he is cold already. That is what I see. It isn't a cheerful thing, is it? And then,--I don't know what it will be then; but now I can only see the eyes: they are not really like a man's eyes, they are like a child's eyes full of pain, and--[_turns and looks at_ ELIZABETH]--so trusting and innocent, like a little child being murdered!

ELIZABETH.

[_With a shriek._] No, no! God help me! Not a child's eyes! Not you too! Oh, say you don't see them!

VERA.

[_Coming towards her._] Elizabeth! What is it? I have never seen you like this.

ELIZABETH.

Oh, tell me that you don't see them! It is only to try me. _I_ know they are there. I see them always. But not you. Not a child's eyes!

VERA.

It was only fancy. It was what I seemed to see in the moonlight on the mist. It meant nothing.

ELIZABETH.

Has he told you? Why did he do it? Tell me, has he told you? [_Turns and catches hold of_ VERA.

VERA.

Yes, he has--he has told me----

ELIZABETH.

And you are angry! You can't forgive him! Oh, Vera, you are wrong. Blame me if you like. I did love the child, but it was I who wished it. Every woman living would have wished it! [_Sits on settee._

VERA.

I don't understand. Why are you like this?

ELIZABETH.

I was stupid with weeping when he came that night, and he was so brave and strong. He never feared anything in his life. He called me "Poor child." "Poor child," he said, "do you know why you are unhappy? Because you dare not do the thing that your heart is praying for." . . . Then he took the child out with him and came back alone.

VERA.

What child? Was it his own child? [_Fiercely, starting towards her._]--Tell me, or I will kill you!--and were you its mother?

ELIZABETH.

I thought he had told you.

VERA.

When was it?

ELIZABETH.

Thirty-four--thirty-five years ago; before he went to India. I loved him long before your mother did.

VERA.

You say you loved the child. Didn't you hate him for it?

ELIZABETH.

Hate him? No. I was half mad, I think. I used to watch his face. If there had been a single shadow on it, I think I should have hated him. But he never changed. He was always untroubled, and his eyes were always true and fearless! Then I knew he could bear all my burdens, and I need fear nothing any more.

VERA.

Why did he not marry you?

ELIZABETH.

He told me from the first he would not. I don't suppose he loved me much; how could he? He was so far above me, so much stronger and wiser. I got all I wanted afterwards, when he let me come here and look after you.

VERA.

I don't understand you, Elizabeth. [_Vehemently._] Are you mad, and is it all untrue?

ELIZABETH.

The baby's eyes haunt me; I dare not look into deep water. But it is just this that has given me peace.

VERA.

Peace!

ELIZABETH.

It is the want of trust that makes life hard. You cannot be happy without perfect courage; and you cannot have courage without perfect strength. He has both; and they are yours if you trust him.

VERA.

Is it possible to trust any one? Suppose he did what you knew was wrong?

ELIZABETH.

How should I know it was wrong? When I have found a man who stands out above other men, who shrinks from nothing, who is true to himself----

VERA.

[_Shuddering._] But to murder a little thing like that!

ELIZABETH.

It was just the helplessness of the little thing that would have frightened another man. It must be very hard to murder a child. But neither strength nor helplessness can frighten him!

VERA.

[_After a pause._] And have you never doubted him?

ELIZABETH.

Vera, how could I doubt? Why, if I had doubted him then I should have hated him; if I doubted him now I should die! [VERA _shudders_.

VERA.

Shut out that ghastly moonlight! [ELIZABETH _rises and draws the curtain_. VERA _goes up to her, and they sit together_.] Let me come closer to you. Tell me it all again.

ELIZABETH.

Tell what again? Poor child, I have suffered all that you have, and more.

VERA.

Say again: "Your father betrayed me, murdered my child----"

ELIZABETH.

[_Interrupting._] No, he never betrayed me. He did an awful thing for my sake. He gave me peace.

VERA.

[_Looking at her._] If only one could trust like that!

ELIZABETH.

You can, childie. Think of him as always with you; try to feel him looking into your heart, commanding----

VERA.

[_Half frightened._] Will that do it? But I am always doing that! I can't help it!

ELIZABETH.

Then all this storm and suspicion will pass away, and you will be like me!

VERA.

[_Starting away from her._] Like you! No, not like you! I can't be! [ELIZABETH _rises and comes down to her_.] Oh, how did you blind yourself? Has he sucked your heart's blood and left you dead, with no will, no conscience, no power to think? [_With fury._] Oh, beat him back from you! Fight him! Fight him!

ELIZABETH.

Child, child! how could one fight him? You don't know what you say!

VERA.

With his own weapons. By lies, pitiless treachery! I have seen him afraid, Elizabeth! I have seen him afraid! [_Starting nervously._] Ah! there is his step. Don't let him come! Keep him from me, just for one moment, Elizabeth! If he speaks to me now I can't think. [_Running to the window._] Oh! here I can breathe!

[_She stays with her head out of the window as before._

_Enter_ CARLYON.

CARLYON.

[_To_ ELIZABETH.] Why is she there? What have you said?

ELIZABETH.

She is frightened! I thought you had told her.

CARLYON.

You told her _that_! [_Pause._] So much the better. If she understands one thing she will understand all. [_Cross_ L.] Well, Vera----

ELIZABETH.

[_Reaching across after him._] She understands nothing! Don't trust her!

[CARLYON _utterly disregarding_ ELIZABETH, _and walking up to_ VERA.

CARLYON.

You've had time to think. Is it to be the world or me?

VERA.

[_Turning and coming down to meet him._] I see it all clearly now, father, and I won't be afraid any more.

END OF THE THIRD ACT.

THE FOURTH ACT

_In front of a Bungalow in the Ghautgherry Hills; the Bungalow with its veranda occupies the left half of the stage; the rest is Compound, with thick trees at the right. A door in the centre of the veranda leads into the house; another, at the left, leads to_ ADENE'S _sick-room. In front, to the right_, ADENE _is reclining in a long Singapore chair with cushions. Just above him a table, covered with Bhojâlee curiosities which have just been taken from a box. At the table is_ RHEINHARDT _seated, looking at the objects. Behind is_ SELIM, _an old native with one arm, dusting the veranda with a feather mop_.

ADENE _has a Bhojâlee belt in his hands, with empty sheath_; RHEINHARDT _has the knife, and is examining it closely_.

ADENE.

The belt is said to have been Koreb's own. There is nothing particular about the knife--an ordinary Bhojâl kukri.

RHEINHARDT.

[_Holding the knife up for the light to strike its edge._] Do they use poisoned knives in Bhojâl?

ADENE.

They have the secret; but I never heard of its being used in war, except in the last war, against us. [_He sits up and reaches for the knife, which_ RHEINHARDT _gives_.] Do you see anything that looks like poison?

RHEINHARDT.

Come, come! [_Presses him down in the chair._] If I let you come outside the veranda, you must be content to lie still.--Selim, two pegs lower. [_Holds up two fingers._] And the cushions. [_To_ ADENE, _as_ SELIM _nods his understanding_.] I never know how much that man understands.

[SELIM _lowers the back of the chair, and rearranges the cushions tenderly and skilfully. A bell is heard, off._

ADENE.

Oh, he understands most things. [_Exit_ SELIM _up_ C.] You see, Carlyon's methods at that time had turned them into perfect fiends! [RHEINHARDT _looks sharply up_.] Well, infected them, we'll say, with the Carlyon spirit. [RHEINHARDT _continues to look disapprovingly at_ ADENE.] Look here, Rheinhardt, do you think this is a delusion of mine about Carlyon?

RHEINHARDT.

No.

ADENE.

Then why do you look hurt whenever I refer to the things that I know about him?

RHEINHARDT.

Sir Carlyon may be the Devil himself; I have in him no interest. It is only the children of the Devil that I am sorry for.

ADENE.

[_With sudden constraint._] I have never said a word affecting Miss Carlyon.

RHEINHARDT.

Nor thought a word, eh?

ADENE.

I have no material for thinking about her, one way or the other.

_Re-enter_ SELIM _with letters_.

RHEINHARDT.

I will give you material!

SELIM.

[_Interrupting and laying letters on table in front of_ RHEINHARDT.] Post!

RHEINHARDT.

[_Taking the letters, while_ ADENE _sits up and looks at them_.] No, you do not open your letters yet!

ADENE.

Goodness knows I don't want to; unless there is one from my sister----

RHEINHARDT.

[_Reading the addresses._] "An den Herrn Professor Rheinhardt, M.D., Ph.D." "Dr. Rheinhardt." [_Stopping and looking again._] Ach! no. "_Miss_ Rheinhardt." It is for my assistant. [_To_ SELIM.] Here; for the Mem-sahib!

ADENE.

That is Carlyon's handwriting! [_Rises._

[SELIM, _who has just reached the door, turns suddenly and drops the letter with signs of fear_. ADENE _crosses towards him_.

SELIM.

Kal[^y]ona Sahib! [_Stands shrinking from the letter._

RHEINHARDT.

What matters it to you whose letter it is? Take it!

SELIM.

[_In terror, catching_ ADENE'S _arm_.] Ai! ai! Sahib.

[_Draws_ ADENE _into the doorway and whispers to him._

ADENE.

Yes, yes, I know; but don't be afraid. [_To_ RHEINHARDT.] It is no good; he won't touch that letter!

RHEINHARDT.

Won't touch it? Very well, he shall not touch it. [_Takes a plate from among the curiosities on the table and puts letter upon it._] There; take it on this. [_Exit_ SELIM _with plate_.] And you, come back! [ADENE _comes down again to his chair and sits thinking_. RHEINHARDT _continues_.] Gott in Himmel! so long as it does not touch his skin, so long it is all right.

[_Laughing._

ADENE.

Rheinhardt, who _is_ this assistant of yours, whom I never see?

RHEINHARDT.

Who my assistant is?--she was a pupil of mine.

ADENE.

If you would allow it, I would like to see her.

RHEINHARDT.

[_After a pause._] Very well; I also wish you to see her. But [_deliberately_] you have at present no material for thinking about her--one way or the other. [ADENE _starts_.] I will give you some. When first I heard of Steinmetz's experimentations, and saw his mistakes, I said, "If I had the right assistant, I could save Adene." But I had him not. I wanted--ah, so many things! You will not understand: a doctor who should be also a nurse, who should know my ways--and more. There was just one person, but she was just the one person I could not ask. No. I was too angry.

ADENE.

Then how did she come?

RHEINHARDT.

She came to me herself, suddenly, in London, just as I am starting. She was all pale, with her eyes--she had had some great struggle.

ADENE.

Her father!

RHEINHARDT.

[_Waving down the interruption._] I know not what it was, but it was something. And when she entered at the door, I said, "Here it is come at last; he will be saved!" And he is! [_Rises._] There is your material for thinking! And if you do not know what she is, all the time you are unconscious, all the time you are in the dark, there are others who do. [_Warming up._] There are others who----

ADENE.

Oh, Rheinhardt, let me see her!

RHEINHARDT.

[_Sharply._] You do not deserve to see her. [_With resignation._] Bah! what does it matter? I will send her to you. [_At door._] Old Rheinhardt has his work. [_Exit_ RHEINHARDT, _up_.

[ADENE _walks to and fro, thinking_.

_Enter_ SELIM, _and approaches_ ADENE, _who turns away from him, saying_:

ADENE.

Not now, Selim.

[SELIM _turns back and is going off when his eye rests on the knife; he hovers over it, but draws back as_ ADENE _turns, and exit_.

VOICE OF RHEINHARDT INSIDE THE HOUSE.

There! He is on the veranda.

[ADENE _goes up to door_ (C.) _with hands outstretched; to him enter_ VERA _and takes both his hands_.

ADENE.

It is really you! [_Leads her down._] And you have been by me all this time?

VERA.

[_With attempted lightness._] It did seem rather absurd, didn't it? to keep me away from you, when we were such old friends.

ADENE.

Friends! [_Earnestly._] All the way out to Bhojâl there were two thoughts with me always: "I love Vera Carlyon; I am presently going to die." I had nothing to give; only a little broken end of life. But I said, "That at least shall be hers. I will work for her these last months; I will pile up my little monument to her father's greatness, and die building it."

VERA.

Go on! You found it was the monument of his shame!

ADENE.

No, no! Not shame: greatness, but greatness so terribly dashed----

VERA.

You can still say that? Oh, thank you, thank you!

ADENE.

Oh, Vera--when the first shock of my discoveries came, it almost maddened me. I mistrusted every one!

VERA.

I know. I have been through that.

ADENE.

Vera, I mistrusted _you_! [VERA _shrinks_.] I thought you knew the whole story and tried to screen him.

VERA.

No, not all! Not all!

[_Murmuring to herself, so as scarcely to break his speech._

ADENE.

I gnashed my teeth inwardly and raged against you. [VERA _draws back from him, shrinking_.] You can't forgive me?

VERA.

I have nothing to forgive.

ADENE.

You see what must come! I shall try to be just to your father--to spare him; but what good will it be? I shall wound you past all healing! [_Breaking off._] Oh, why could not this have come to some one who did not love you? Or at least to some strong man, who could bear it and go his ways? I, Heaven help me, am a broken, crippled man; I could never ask for your love as an equal, never hope to make you my wife. [_Passionately._] But some little corner of your love I must have----

VERA.

[_Kneeling down by his chair, bending slightly over him._] Oh, dearest, dearest, you are ill and talking wildly! The wound in me is past healing; but it is _he_, not you, that struck it. How could _I_ ask you to spare him? I am bound up as one with him. And I claim now that we shall have our punishment! Dearest, what you thought of me in your anger was the truth! I did plot to screen him and keep you back. I tried that day to strike you with despair--to break down your spirit, to----

ADENE.

But you didn't know what he had done! You can't have known.

VERA.

No, I didn't know that, and I didn't know your courage. It was high above our reach, and we could not break it.--_You_ not a strong man! _You_ to ask for a corner of my love! It is yours all, long ago. It is thrown at your feet for you to gather as you will! [_Throws herself down before him._] The love of one who wronged you, who plotted against you, who was sent here now to---- [_Breaking off with a paroxysm of self-abasement._] Oh, _he_, _he_, who knew me, could think I would do that!

ADENE.

Sent? Did he send you to me? To do what?

[_Preparing to rise._

VERA.

I can't tell you. I have not done it. I have saved you from him.

[ADENE _has risen, and stands sternly thinking_. VERA _is huddled up at his feet, her face hidden in her hands. After a pause, he looks down at her, and changes from stern anger to tenderness._

ADENE.

My poor, poor love, let us forget him! [_Sitting and raising her._] Just for a little, forget him altogether.

VERA.

[_Startled--clutching the letter in her bosom and raising her head._] You have nearly made me forget everything! [_Rising, smiling through her tears._] Forget my first business! _I_ can't afford to break down and let myself be comforted, like another woman!

ADENE.

Why not? [_Tries to detain her._

VOICE OF RHEINHARDT INSIDE THE HOUSE.

Not back yet? It is quite dark. Bring the lamps. And set the punkah going again.

VERA.

No, no; you are my patient. You mustn't comfort me. You are my sick child.

_Enter_ RHEINHARDT.

RHEINHARDT.

[_At door._] Hut!--Bah! [_Running forward and seizing_ ADENE'S _pulse_.] Gott im Himmel! take him in! Take him in! He lies down flat, straight, this moment, just as he is! [_To_ VERA.] No, not you! Here, Nurse! Take him in. [_Calling._

VERA.

[_As_ RHEINHARDT _leads_ ADENE _off, after a moment of thought_.] Come back to me afterwards, Doctor. I want to speak to you.

[_Exeunt_ RHEINHARDT _and_ ADENE _into the sick-room, the_ NURSE _appearing at_ ADENE'S _door_.

_Enter_ PUNKAH BOY, _and sits in corner_ R., _working punkah_.

_Enter_ SELIM _with a lamp_. VERA _makes room for it on the table among the curios, then begins to put the curios into their box_.

[_Exit_ SELIM.

_Re-enter_ RHEINHARDT.

VERA.

[_While_ RHEINHARDT _is still at the door_.] I have been so foolish! Have I done him any real harm?

RHEINHARDT.

Harm? No; it had to come, one way or another. So long as he sleeps!----

VERA.

I have heard from my father. He is coming here.

_Re-enter_ SELIM _with second lamp_.

RHEINHARDT.

Sir Carlyon coming here? When, does he say?

[SELIM _notices and trembles_.

VERA.

[_Looking at letter._] As far as I can judge, he might come to-night. [SELIM, _listening acutely, trembles violently, clutches the poisoned knife which is still lying on the table, and glides off rapidly into the trees_.] That is, if he rides from Johilcund, as he says he will.

RHEINHARDT.

_Ride_ from Johilcund! Gott in Himmel! Let me look. [VERA _gives him the letter_.] From Bombay. [_Looking at the envelope._] Nineteenth, twentieth. Ah, yes. He ought to get here to-morrow midday.

VERA.

[_With constraint._] Has Mr. Adene said anything to you about him?

RHEINHARDT.

[_Same manner._] Yes. [_Their eyes meet and then avoid each other._] There is no need for them to meet. [_Slight pause._] And you--you have said all your say with Mr. Adene?

VERA.

Yes.

RHEINHARDT.

He is a good man. Yes, he is a brave fellow. That is settled. And old Rheinhardt will go back to Zürich, Universitätstrasse, hundert und zwölf; and will grow fat; and will write fat, fat books!

VERA.

[_Tenderly, going up to him._] And save more people's lives, and make more pupils love him.

RHEINHARDT.

Ach! you say that? We have had a happy time here, we two; two good companions--_nicht so?_ And it is over. Bah!--it will be there to think about, in the nights, when it is warm and still like this--and I smoke!

VERA.

Isn't it wonderfully still? You can hear every sound. Hark! there is some one riding on the road.