did. They said there was such a joy on her face as she slept that it

was a shame to waken her.

MR. MORLAND. Joy?

CAMERON. That iss so, sir. I have sometimes thought----

(_There is a gleeful clattering on the stairs of some one to whom they must be familiar; and if her father and mother have doubted they know now before they see her that MARY ROSE has come back. She enters. She is just as we saw her last except that we cannot see her quite so clearly. She is leaping towards her mother in the old impulsive way and the mother responds in her way, but something steps between them._)

MARY ROSE (_puzzled_). What is it?

(_It is the years._)

MRS. MORLAND. My love.

MR. MORLAND. Mary Rose.

MARY ROSE. Father.

(_But the obstacle is still there. She turns timidly to SIMON, who has come in with her._)

What is it, Simon?

(_She goes confidently to him till she sees what the years have done with him. She shakes now._)

SIMON. My beloved wife.

(_He takes her in his arms and so does her mother, and she is glad to be there, but it is not of them she is thinking, and soon she softly disengages herself._)

MR. MORLAND. We are so glad you--had you a comfortable journey, Mary Rose? You would like a cup of tea, wouldn’t you? Is there anything _I_ can do?

(_MARY ROSE’S eyes go from him to the little door at the back._)

MARY ROSE (_coaxingly to her father_). Tell me.

MR. MORLAND. Tell you what, dear?

MARY ROSE (_appealing to CAMERON_). You?

(_He presses her hand and turns away. She goes to SIMON and makes much of him, cajoling him._)

Simon, my Simon. Be nice to me, Simon. Be nice to me, dear Simon, and tell me.

SIMON. Dearest love, since I lost you--it was a long time ago----

MARY ROSE (_petulant_). It wasn’t--please, it wasn’t. (_She goes to her mother._) Tell me, my mother dear.

MR. MORLAND. I don’t know what she wants to be told.

MRS. MORLAND. I know.

MARY ROSE (_an unhappy child_). Where is my baby?

(_They cannot face her, and she goes to seek an answer from the room that lies beyond the little door. Her mother and husband follow her._

_MR. MORLAND and CAMERON left alone are very conscious of what may be going on in that inner room._)

MR. MORLAND. Have you been in this part of the country before, Mr. Cameron?

CAMERON. I haf not, sir. It iss my first visit to England. You cannot hear the sea in this house at all, which iss very strange to me.

MR. MORLAND. If I might show you our Downs----

CAMERON. I thank you, Mr. Morland, but--in such circumstances do not trouble about me at all.

(_They listen._)

MR. MORLAND. I do not know if you are interested in prints. I have a pencil sketch by Cousins--undoubtedly genuine----

CAMERON. I regret my ignorance on the subject. This matter, so strange--so inexplicable----

MR. MORLAND. Please don’t talk of it to me, sir. I am--an old man. I have been so occupied all my life with little things--very pleasant--I cannot cope--cannot cope----

(_A hand is placed on his shoulder so sympathetically that he dares to ask a question._)

Do you think she should have come back, Mr. Cameron?

(_The stage darkens and they are blotted out. Into this darkness MRS. OTERY enters with a candle and we see that the scene has changed to the dismantled room of the first act. HARRY is sunk in the chair as we last saw him._)

MRS. OTERY (_who in her other hand has a large cup and saucer_). Here is your tea, mister. Are you sitting in the dark? I haven’t been more than the ten minutes I promised you. I was----

(_She stops short, struck by his appearance. She holds the candle nearer him. He is staring wide-eyed into the fire, motionless._)

What is the matter, mister? Here is the tea, mister.

(_He looks at her blankly._)

I have brought you a cup of tea, I have just been the ten minutes.

HARRY (_rising_). Wait a mo.

(_He looks about him, like one taking his bearings._)

Gimme the tea. That’s better. Thank you, missis.

MRS. OTERY. Have you seen anything?

HARRY. See here, as I sat in that chair--I wasn’t sleeping, mind you--it’s no dream--but things of the far past connected with this old house--things I knew naught of--they came crowding out of their holes and gathered round me till I saw--I saw them all so clear that I don’t know what to think, woman. (_He is a grave man now._) Never mind about that. Tell me about this--ghost.

MRS. OTERY. It’s no concern of yours.

HARRY. Yes, it is some concern of mine. The folk that used to live here--the Morlands----

MRS. OTERY. That was the name. I suppose you heard it in the village?

HARRY. I have heard it all my days. It is one of the names I bear. I am one of the family.

MRS. OTERY. I suspicioned that.

HARRY. I suppose that is what made them come to me as I sat here. Tell me about them.

MRS. OTERY. It is little I know. They were dead and gone before my time, the old man and his wife.

HARRY. It’s not them I am asking you about.

MRS. OTERY. They had a son-in-law, a sailor. The war made a great man of him before it drowned him.

HARRY. I know that; he was my father. Hard I used to think him, but I know better now. Go on, there’s the other one.

MRS. OTERY (_reluctantly_). That was all.

HARRY. There is one more.

MRS. OTERY. If you must speak of her, she is dead too. I never saw her in life.

HARRY. Where is she buried?

MRS. OTERY. Down by the church.

HARRY. Is there a stone?

MRS. OTERY. Yes.

HARRY. Does it say her age?

MRS. OTERY. No.

HARRY. Is that holy spot well taken care of?

MRS. OTERY. You can see for yourself.

HARRY. I will see for myself. And so it is her ghost that haunts this house?

(_She makes no answer. He struggles with himself._)

There is no such thing as ghosts. And yet-- Is it true about folk having lived in this house and left in a hurry?

MRS. OTERY. It’s true.

HARRY. Because of a ghost--a thing that can’t be.

MRS. OTERY. When I came in your eyes were staring; I thought you had seen her.

HARRY. Have you ever seen her yourself?

(_She shivers._)

Where? In this room?

(_She looks at the little door._)

In there? Has she ever been seen out of that room?

MRS. OTERY. All over the house, in every room and on the stairs. I tell you I’ve met her on the stairs, and she drew back to let me pass and said ‘Good evening’ too, timid-like, and at another time she has gone by me like a rush of wind.

HARRY. What is she like? Is she dressed in white? They are allus dressed in white, aren’t they?

MRS. OTERY. She looks just like you or me. But for all that she’s as light as air. I’ve seen--things.

HARRY. You look like it, too. But she is harmless it seems?

MRS. OTERY. There’s some wouldn’t say that; them that left in a hurry. If she thought you were keeping it from her she would do you a mischief.

HARRY. Keeping what from her?

MRS. OTERY. Whatever it is she prowls about this cold house searching for, searching, searching. I don’t know what it is.

HARRY (_grimly_). Maybe I could tell you. I dare say I could even put her in the way of finding him.

MRS. OTERY. Then I wish to God you would, and let her rest.

HARRY. My old dear, there are worse things than not finding what you are looking for; there is finding them so different from what you had hoped. (_He moves about._) A ghost. Oh no--and yet, and yet-- See here, I am going into that room.

MRS. OTERY. As you like; I care not.

HARRY. I’ll burst open the door.

MRS. OTERY. No need; it’s not locked; I cheated you about that.

HARRY. But I tried it and it wouldn’t open.

(_MRS. OTERY is very unhappy._)

You think she is in there?

MRS. OTERY. She may be.

HARRY (_taking a deep breath_). Give me air.

(_He throws open the window and we see that it is a night of stars._)

Leave me here now. I have a call to make.

MRS. OTERY (_hesitating_). I dunno. You think you’re in no danger, but----

HARRY. That is how it is to be, missis. Just ten minutes you were out of the room, did you say?

MRS. OTERY. That was all.

HARRY. God!

(_She leaves him. After a moment’s irresolution he sets off upon his quest carrying the candle, which takes with it all the light of the room. He is visible on the other side of the darkness, in the little passage and opening the door beyond. He returns, and now we see the pale ghost of MARY ROSE standing in the middle of the room, as if made out of the light he has brought back with him._)

MARY ROSE (_bowing to him timidly_). Have you come to buy the house?

HARRY (_more startled by his own voice than by hers_). Not me.

MARY ROSE. It is a very nice house. (_Doubtfully._) Isn’t it?

HARRY. It was a nice house once.

MARY ROSE (_pleased_). Wasn’t it! (_Suspiciously._) Did you know this house?

HARRY. When I was a young shaver.

MARY ROSE. Young? Was it you who laughed?

HARRY. When was that?

MARY ROSE (_puzzled_). There was once some one who laughed in this house. Don’t you think laughter is a very pretty sound?

HARRY (_out of his depths_). Is it? I dare say. I never thought about it.

MARY ROSE. You are quite old.

HARRY. I’m getting on.

MARY ROSE (_confidentially_). Would you mind telling me why every one is so old? I don’t know you, do I?

HARRY. I wonder. Take a look. You might have seen me in the old days--playing about--outside in the garden--or even inside.

MARY ROSE. You--you are not Simon, are you?

HARRY. No. (_Venturing._) My name is Harry.

MARY ROSE (_stiffening_). I don’t think so. I strongly object to your saying that.

HARRY. I’m a queer sort of cove, and I would like to hear you call me Harry.

MARY ROSE (_firmly_). I decline. I regret, but I absolutely decline.

HARRY. No offence.

MARY ROSE. I think you are sorry for me.

HARRY. I am that.

MARY ROSE. I am sorry for me, too.

HARRY (_desperately desirous to help her_). If only there was something I-- I know nothing about ghosts--not a thing; can they sit down? Could you----?

(_He turns the chair toward her._)

MARY ROSE. That is your chair.

HARRY. What do you mean by that?

MARY ROSE. That is where you were sitting.

HARRY. Were you in this room when I was sitting there?

MARY ROSE. I came in to look at you.

(_A sudden thought makes him cross with the candle to where he had left his knife. It is gone._)

HARRY. Where is my knife? Were you standing looking at me with my knife in your hand?

(_She is sullenly silent._)

Give me my knife.

(_She gives it to him._)

What made you take it?

MARY ROSE. I thought you were perhaps the one.

HARRY. The one?

MARY ROSE. The one who stole him from me.

HARRY. I see. Godsake, in a sort of way I suppose I am.

(_He sits in the chair._)

MARY ROSE. Give him back to me.

HARRY. I wish I could. But I’m doubting he is gone beyond recall.

MARY ROSE (_unexpectedly_). Who is he?

HARRY. Do you mean you have forgotten who it is you are searching for?

MARY ROSE. I knew once. It is such a long time ago. I am so tired; please can I go away and play now?

HARRY. Go away? Where? You mean back to that--that place?

(_She nods._)

What sort of a place is it? Is it good to be there?

MARY ROSE. Lovely, lovely, lovely.

HARRY. It’s not just the island, is it, that’s so lovely, lovely?

(_She is perplexed._)

Have you forgotten the island too?

MARY ROSE. I am sorry.

HARRY. The island, the place where you heard the call.

MARY ROSE. What is that?

HARRY. You have even forgotten the call! With vision as far as I can make out, it was as if, in a way, there were two kinds of dogs out hunting you--the good and the bad.

MARY ROSE (_who thinks he is chiding her_). Please don’t be cross with me.

HARRY. I am far from cross with you. I begin to think it was the good dogs that got you. Are they ghosts in that place?

MARY ROSE (_with surprising certainty_). No.

HARRY. You are sure?

MARY ROSE. Honest Injun.

HARRY. What fairly does me is, if the place is so lovely, what made you leave it?

MARY ROSE (_frightened_). I don’t know.

HARRY. Do you think you could have fallen out?

MARY ROSE. I don’t know. (_She thinks his power is great._) Please, I don’t want to be a ghost any more.

HARRY. As far as I can see, if you wasn’t a ghost there you made yourself one by coming back. But it’s no use your expecting me to be able to help you. (_She droops at this and he holds out his arms._) Come to me, ghostie; I wish you would.

MARY ROSE (_prim again_). Certainly not.

HARRY. If you come, I’ll try to help you.

(_She goes at once and sits on his knee._)

See here, when I was sitting by the fire alone I seemed to hear you as you once were saying that some day when he was a man you would like to sit on your Harry’s knee.

MARY ROSE (_vaguely quoting she knows not whom_). The loveliest time of all will be when he is a man and takes me on his knee instead of my taking him on mine.

HARRY. Do you see who I am now?

MARY ROSE. Nice man.

HARRY. Is that all you know about me?

MARY ROSE. Yes.

HARRY. There is a name I would like to call you by, but my best course is not to worry you. Poor soul, I wonder if there was ever a man with a ghost on his knee before.

MARY ROSE. I don’t know.

HARRY. Seems to me you’re feared of being a ghost. I dare say, to a timid thing, being a ghost is worse than seeing them.

MARY ROSE. Yes.

HARRY. Is it lonely being a ghost?

MARY ROSE. Yes.

HARRY. Do you know any other ghosts?

MARY ROSE. No.

HARRY. Would you like to know other ghosts?

MARY ROSE. Yes.

HARRY. I can understand that. And now you would like to go away and play?

MARY ROSE. Please.

HARRY. In this cold house, when you should be searching, do you sometimes play by yourself instead?

MARY ROSE (_whispering_). Don’t tell.

HARRY. Not me. You’re a pretty thing. What beautiful shoes you have.

(_She holds out her feet complacently._)

MARY ROSE. Nice buckles.

HARRY. I like your hair.

MARY ROSE. Pretty hair.

HARRY. Do you mind the tuft that used to stand up at the back of--of Simon’s head?

MARY ROSE (_merrily_). Naughty tuft.

HARRY. I have one like that.

MARY ROSE (_smoothing it down_). Oh dear, oh dear, what a naughty tuft.

HARRY. My name is Harry.

MARY ROSE (_liking the pretty sound_). Harry, Harry, Harry, Harry.

HARRY. But you don’t know what Harry I am.

MARY ROSE. No.

HARRY. And this brings us no nearer what’s to be done with you. I would willingly stay here though I have my clearing in Australy, but you’re just a ghost. They say there are ways of laying ghosts, but I am so ignorant.

MARY ROSE (_imploringly_). Tell me.

HARRY. I wish I could; you are even more ignorant than I am.

MARY ROSE. Tell me.

HARRY. All I know about them for certain is that they are unhappy because they can’t find something, and then once they’ve got the thing they want, they go away happy and never come back.

MARY ROSE. Oh, nice.

HARRY. The one thing clear to me is that you have got that thing at last, but you are too dog-tired to know or care. What you need now is to get back to the place you say is lovely, lovely.

MARY ROSE. Yes, yes.

HARRY. It sounds as if it might be Heaven, or near thereby.

(_She wants him to find out for her._)

Queer, you that know so much can tell nothing, and them that know nothing can tell so much. If there was any way of getting you to that glory place!

MARY ROSE. Tell me.

HARRY (_desperate_). He would surely send for you, if He wanted you.

MARY ROSE (_crushed_). Yes.

HARRY. It’s like as if He had forgotten you.

MARY ROSE. Yes.

HARRY. It’s as if nobody wanted you, either there or here.

MARY ROSE. Yes. (_She rises._) Bad man.

HARRY. It’s easy to call me names, but the thing fair beats me. There is nothing I wouldn’t do for you, but a mere man is so helpless. How should the likes of me know what to do with a ghost that has lost her way on earth? I wonder if what it means is that you broke some law, just to come back for the sake of--of that Harry? If it was that, it’s surely time He overlooked it.

MARY ROSE. Yes.

(_He looks at the open window._)

HARRY. What a night of stars! Good old glitterers, I dare say they are in the know, but I am thinking you are too small a thing to get a helping hand from them.

MARY ROSE. Yes.

(_The call is again heard, but there is in it now no unholy sound. It is a celestial music that is calling for Mary Rose, Mary Rose, first in whispers and soon so loudly that, for one who can hear, it is the only sound in the world. Mary Rose, Mary Rose. As it wraps her round, the weary little ghost knows that her long day is done. Her face is shining. The smallest star shoots down as if it were her star sent for her, and with her arms stretched forth to it trustingly she walks out through the window into the empyrean. The music passes with her. HARRY hears nothing, but he knows that somehow a prayer has been answered._)

_The End_

TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES:

Italicized text is surrounded by underscores: _italics_.

Obvious typographical errors have been corrected.

Archaic or variant spelling has been retained.

New original cover art included with this eBook is granted to the public domain.