Part 5

ROBERT. That I...?

BERTHA. Promise me, Robert, not to think of such a thing. Never. If you like me at all. I thought that moment...

ROBERT. What an idea?

BERTHA. But promise me if you like me.

ROBERT. If I like you, Bertha! I promise. Of course, I promise. You are trembling all over.

BERTHA. Let me sit down somewhere. It will pass in a moment.

ROBERT. My poor Bertha! Sit down. Come.

[_He leads her towards a chair near the table. She sits down. He stands beside her._]

ROBERT. [_After a short pause._] Has it passed?

BERTHA. Yes. It was only for a moment. I was very silly. I was afraid that... I wanted to see you near me.

ROBERT. That... that you made me promise not to think of?

BERTHA. Yes.

ROBERT. [_Keenly._] Or something else?

BERTHA. [_Helplessly._] Robert, I feared something. I am not sure what.

ROBERT. And now?

BERTHA. Now you are here. I can see you. Now it has passed.

ROBERT. [_With resignation._] Passed. Yes. Love’s labour lost.

BERTHA. [_Looks up at him._] Listen, Robert. I want to explain to you about that. I could not deceive Dick. Never. In nothing. I told him everything—from the first. Then it went on and on; and still you never spoke or asked me. I wanted you to.

ROBERT. Is that the truth, Bertha?

BERTHA. Yes, because it annoyed me that you could think I was like... like the other women I suppose you knew that way. I think that Dick is right too. Why should there be secrets?

ROBERT. [_Softly._] Still, secrets can be very sweet. Can they not?

BERTHA. [_Smiles._] Yes, I know they can. But, you see, I could not keep things secret from Dick. Besides, what is the good? They always come out in the end. Is it not better for people to know?

ROBERT. [_Softly and a little shyly._] How could you, Bertha, tell him everything? Did you? Every single thing that passed between us?

BERTHA. Yes. Everything he asked me.

ROBERT. Did he ask you—much?

BERTHA. You know the kind he is. He asks about everything. The ins and outs.

ROBERT. About our kissing, too?

BERTHA. Of course. I told him all.

ROBERT. [_Shakes his head slowly._] Extraordinary little person! Were you not ashamed?

BERTHA. No.

ROBERT. Not a bit?

BERTHA. No. Why? Is that terrible?

ROBERT. And how did he take it? Tell me. I want to know everything, too.

BERTHA. [_Laughs._] It excited him. More than usual.

ROBERT. Why? Is he excitable—still?

BERTHA. [_Archly._] Yes, very. When he is not lost in his philosophy.

ROBERT. More than I?

BERTHA. More than you? [_Reflecting._] How could I answer that? You both are, I suppose?

[_Robert turns aside and gazes towards the porch, passing his hand once or twice thoughtfully over his hair._]

BERTHA. [_Gently._] Are you angry with me again?

ROBERT. [_Moodily._] You are with me.

BERTHA. No, Robert. Why should I be?

ROBERT. Because I asked you to come to this place. I tried to prepare it for you. [_He points vaguely here and there._] A sense of quietness.

BERTHA. [_Touching his jacket with her fingers._] And this, too. Your nice velvet coat.

ROBERT. Also. I will keep no secrets from you.

BERTHA. You remind me of someone in a picture. I like you in it... But you are not angry, are you?

ROBERT. [_Darkly._] Yes. That was my mistake. To ask you to come here. I felt it when I looked at you from the garden and saw you—you, Bertha—standing here. [_Hopelessly._] But what else could I have done?

BERTHA. [_Quietly._] You mean because others have been here?

ROBERT. Yes.

[_He walks away from her a few paces. A gust of wind makes the lamp on the table flicker. He lowers the wick slightly._]

BERTHA. [_Following him with her eyes._] But I knew that before I came. I am not angry with you for it.

ROBERT. [_Shrugs his shoulders._] Why should you be angry with me after all? You are not even angry with him—for the same thing—or worse.

BERTHA. Did he tell you that about himself?

ROBERT. Yes. He told me. We all confess to one another here. Turn about.

BERTHA. I try to forget it.

ROBERT. It does not trouble you?

BERTHA. Not now. Only I dislike to think of it.

ROBERT. It is merely something brutal, you think? Of little importance?

BERTHA. It does not trouble me—now.

ROBERT. [_Looking at her over his shoulder._] But there is something that would trouble you very much and that you would not try to forget?

BERTHA. What?

ROBERT. [_Turning towards her._] If it were not only something brutal with this person or that—for a few moments. If it were something fine and spiritual—with one person only—with one woman. [_Smiles._] And perhaps brutal too. It usually comes to that sooner or later. Would you try to forget and forgive that?

BERTHA. [_Toying with her wristlet._] In whom?

ROBERT. In anyone. In me.

BERTHA. [_Calmly._] You mean in Dick.

ROBERT. I said in myself. But would you?

BERTHA. You think I would revenge myself? Is Dick not to be free too?

ROBERT. [_Points at her._] That is not from your heart, Bertha.

BERTHA. [_Proudly._] Yes, it is; let him be free too. He leaves me free also.

ROBERT. [_Insistently._] And you know why? And understand? And you like it? And you want to be? And it makes you happy? And has made you happy? Always? This gift of freedom which he gave you—nine years ago?

BERTHA. [_Gazing at him with wide open eyes._] But why do you ask me such a lot of questions, Robert?

ROBERT. [_Stretches out both hands to her._] Because I had another gift to offer you then—a common simple gift—like myself. If you want to know it I will tell you.

BERTHA. [_Looking at her watch._] Past is past, Robert. And I think I ought to go now. It is nine almost.

ROBERT. [_Impetuously._] No, no. Not yet. There is one confession more and we have the right to speak.

[_He crosses before the table rapidly and sits down beside her._]

BERTHA. [_Turning towards him, places her left hand on his shoulder._] Yes, Robert. I know that you like me. You need not tell me. [_Kindly._] You need not confess any more tonight.

[_A gust of wind enters through the porch, with a sound of moving leaves. The lamp flickers quickly._]

BERTHA. [_Pointing over his shoulder._] Look! It is too high.

[_Without rising, he bends towards the table, and turns down the wick more. The room is half dark. The light comes in more strongly through the doorway of the bedroom._]

ROBERT. The wind is rising. I will close that door.

BERTHA. [_Listening._] No, it is raining still. It was only a gust of wind.

ROBERT. [_Touches her shoulder._] Tell me if the air is too cold for you. [_Half rising._] I will close it.

BERTHA. [_Detaining him._] No. I am not cold. Besides, I am going now, Robert. I must.

ROBERT. [_Firmly._] No, no. There is no _must_ now. We were left here for this. And you are wrong, Bertha. The past is not past. It is present here now. My feeling for you is the same now as it was then, because then—you slighted it.

BERTHA. No, Robert. I did not.

ROBERT. [_Continuing._] You did. And I have felt it all these years without knowing it—till now. Even while I lived—the kind of life you know and dislike to think of—the kind of life to which you condemned me.

BERTHA. I?

ROBERT. Yes, when you slighted the common simple gift I had to offer you—and took his gift instead.

BERTHA. [_Looking at him._] But you never...

ROBERT. No. Because you had chosen him. I saw that. I saw it on the first night we met, we three together. Why did you choose him?

BERTHA. [_Bends her head._] Is that not love?

ROBERT. [_Continuing._] And every night when we two—he and I—came to that corner to meet you I saw it and felt it. You remember the corner, Bertha?

BERTHA. [_As before._] Yes.

ROBERT. And when you and he went away for your walk and I went along the street alone I felt it. And when he spoke to me about you and told me he was going away—then most of all.

BERTHA. Why then most of all?

ROBERT. Because it was then that I was guilty of my first treason towards him.

BERTHA. Robert, what are you saying? Your first treason against Dick?

ROBERT. [_Nods._] And not my last. He spoke of you and himself. Of how your life would be together—free and all that. Free, yes! He would not even ask you to go with him. [_Bitterly._] He did not. And you went all the same.

BERTHA. I wanted to be with him. You know... [_Raising her head and looking at him._] You know how we were then—Dick and I.

ROBERT. [_Unheeding._] I advised him to go alone—not to take you with him—to live alone in order to see if what he felt for you was a passing thing which might ruin your happiness and his career.

BERTHA. Well, Robert. It was unkind of you towards me. But I forgive you because you were thinking of his happiness and mine.

ROBERT. [_Bending closer to her._] No, Bertha. I was not. And that was my treason. I was thinking of myself—that you might turn from him when he had gone and he from you. Then I would have offered you my gift. You know what it was now. The simple common gift that men offer to women. Not the best perhaps. Best or worst—it would have been yours.

BERTHA. [_Turning away from him._] He did not take your advice.

ROBERT. [_As before._] No. And the night you ran away together—O, how happy I was!

BERTHA. [_Pressing his hands._] Keep calm, Robert. I know you liked me always. Why did you not forget me?

ROBERT. [_Smiles bitterly._] How happy I felt as I came back along the quays and saw in the distance the boat lit up going down the black river, taking you away from me! [_In a calmer tone._] But why did you choose him? Did you not like me at all?

BERTHA. Yes. I liked you because you were his friend. We often spoke about you. Often and often. Every time you wrote or sent papers or books to Dick. And I like you still, Robert. [_Looking into his eyes._] I never forgot you.

ROBERT. Nor I you. I knew I would see you again. I knew it the night you went away—that you would come back. And that was why I wrote and worked to see you again—here.

BERTHA. And here I am. You were right.

ROBERT. [_Slowly._] Nine years. Nine times more beautiful!

BERTHA. [_Smiling._] But am I? What do you see in me?

ROBERT. [_Gazing at her._] A strange and beautiful lady.

BERTHA. [_Almost disgusted._] O, please don’t call me such a thing!

ROBERT. [_Earnestly._] You are more. A young and beautiful queen.

BERTHA. [_With a sudden laugh._] O, Robert!

ROBERT. [_Lowering his voice and bending nearer to her._] But do you not know that you are a beautiful human being? Do you not know that you have a beautiful body? Beautiful and young?

BERTHA. [_Gravely._] Some day I will be old.

ROBERT. [_Shakes his head._] I cannot imagine it. Tonight you are young and beautiful. Tonight you have come back to me. [_With passion._] Who knows what will be tomorrow? I may never see you again or never see you as I do now.

BERTHA. Would you suffer?

ROBERT. [_Looks round the room, without answering._] This room and this hour were made for your coming. When you have gone—all is gone.

BERTHA. [_Anxiously._] But you will see me again, Robert... as before.

ROBERT. [_Looks full at her._] To make him—Richard—suffer.

BERTHA. He does not suffer.

ROBERT. [_Bowing his head._] Yes, yes. He does.

BERTHA. He knows we like each other. Is there any harm, then?

ROBERT. [_Raising his head._] No there is no harm. Why should we not? He does not know yet what I feel. He has left us alone here at night, at this hour, because he longs to know it—he longs to be delivered.

BERTHA. From what?

ROBERT. [_Moves closer to her and presses her arm as he speaks._] From every law, Bertha, from every bond. All his life he has sought to deliver himself. Every chain but one he has broken and that one we are to break. Bertha—you and I.

BERTHA. [_Almost inaudibly._] Are you sure?

ROBERT. [_Still more warmly._] I am sure that no law made by man is sacred before the impulse of passion. [_Almost fiercely._] Who made us for one only? It is a crime against our own being if we are so. There is no law before impulse. Laws are for slaves. Bertha, say my name! Let me hear your voice say it. Softly!

BERTHA. [_Softly._] Robert!

ROBERT. [_Puts his arm about her shoulder._] Only the impulse towards youth and beauty does not die. [_He points towards the porch._] Listen!

BERTHA. [_In alarm._] What?

ROBERT. The rain falling. Summer rain on the earth. Night rain. The darkness and warmth and flood of passion. Tonight the earth is loved—loved and possessed. Her lover’s arms around her; and she is silent. Speak, dearest!

BERTHA. [_Suddenly leans forward and listens intently._] Hush!

ROBERT. [_Listening, smiles._] Nothing. Nobody. We are alone.

[_A gust of wind blows in through the porch, with a sound of shaken leaves. The flame of the lamp leaps._]

BERTHA. [_Pointing to the lamp._] Look!

ROBERT. Only the wind. We have light enough from the other room.

[_He stretches his hand across the table and puts out the lamp. The light from the doorway of the bedroom crosses the place where they sit. The room is quite dark._]

ROBERT. Are you happy? Tell me.

BERTHA. I am going now, Robert. It is very late. Be satisfied.

ROBERT. [_Caressing her hair._] Not yet, not yet. Tell me, do you love me a little?

BERTHA. I like you, Robert. I think you are good. [_Half rising._] Are you satisfied?

ROBERT. [_Detaining her, kisses her hair._] Do not go, Bertha! There is time still. Do you love me too? I have waited a long time. Do you love us both—him and also me? Do you, Bertha? The truth! Tell me. Tell me with your eyes. Or speak!

[_She does not answer. In the silence the rain is heard falling._]

Third Act

_The drawingroom of Richard Rowan’s house at Merrion. The folding doors at the right are closed and also the double doors leading to the garden. The green plush curtains are drawn across the window on the left. The room is half dark. It is early in the morning of the next day. Bertha sits beside the window looking out between the curtains. She wears a loose saffron dressing gown. Her hair is combed loosely over the ears and knotted at the neck. Her hands are folded in her lap. Her face is pale and drawn._

[_Brigid comes in through the folding doors on the right with a featherbroom and duster. She is about to cross but, seeing Bertha, she halts suddenly and blesses herself instinctively._]

BRIGID. Merciful hour, ma’am. You put the heart across me. Why did you get up so early?

BERTHA. What time is it?

BRIGID. After seven, ma’am. Are you long up?

BERTHA. Some time.

BRIGID. [_Approaching her._] Had you a bad dream that woke you?

BERTHA. I didn’t sleep all night. So I got up to see the sun rise.

BRIGID. [_Opens the double doors._] It’s a lovely morning now after all the rain we had. [_Turns round._] But you must be dead tired, ma’am. What will the master say at your doing a thing like that? [_She goes to the door of the study and knocks._] Master Richard!

BERTHA. [_Looks round._] He is not there. He went out an hour ago.

BRIGID. Out there, on the strand, is it?

BERTHA. Yes.

BRIGID. [_Comes towards her and leans over the back of a chair._] Are you fretting yourself, ma’am, about anything?

BERTHA. No, Brigid.

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?