Chapter 3

Scene:--The same as in Act II. Daylight. The curtains over the window recesses are drawn back. The fire is burning brightly. It is afternoon. The sun sets as the act advances. All lights full. Bed lime R., for fire. Red lime on slot behind cloth for sun. Amber line behind transparent cloth R. Ditto L., to be worked on at cue. Music for Act drop. Clear lamp and book from table, lamp from bureau, and shut it _(bureau)_ up. L. window open. Laughter and voices off L. as curtain rises, till Christie gets to window, then a Voice.

{Voice.} There's Christie! _(she shuts window)_ Ah, we're not good enough for Christie! _(murmurs from All)_

_(Christiana enters up stage, door L., There is the distant sound of rough laughter. She looks out of L. C.)_

{Chris.} What a lot of animals! Ugh! How awful common people look when they're clean, _(comes down C.)_

_(Izod's head appears in doorway L.)_

{Izod.} Christie!

{Chris.} _(turning sharply)_ Hallo!

{Izod.} _(entering)_ What's wrong with the Squire?

{Chris.} _(R. C.)_ Ill, she says. Hush! _(pointing, to door R.)_ She's in there. What do you want, dear?

{Izod.} _(C.)_ Coin, _(falls back up R. C., as Gunnion enters door L., much perturbed. He is attired in his grandest, wearing a large rosette of coloured ribbons)_

{Gun.} Where's Squire? that's what I want to know!

{Chris.} Hush! she's in her room. What's the matter?

{Gun.} _(sitting on stool C., wiping his forehead)_ Hunpunctuality's the matter--a lot of 'em's not come yet. The fiddle ain't come; the _Mercury_ ain't come. I don't give 'em a single sentiment till _Mercury's_ here to take me down.

{Izod.} You want somebody here to take you down.

{Gun.} Fell the grocer's not come. If he 'adn't been harsked he'd have 'owled. Now he have been harsked, he's for marching in late like a prince, _(rising)_ I'm the master of the ceremonies, I am --take care he don't find hisself heaved out.

{Chris.} You're quite right, Gunnion; act up to your ribbons.

{Gun.} _(going to door L.)_ Ay, that I'll do. The Squire's made me what I am this blessed day. I'm Squire's representative, I am, and they'll find me darned unpleasant. _(He goes off L., muttering.)_ John Parsley ain't come; old Buckle ain't come; Mouldy Green ain't come.

_(Izod comes down R., C.)_

{Chris.} _(R. to Izod)_ Go away, Izod, and keep quiet till you're wanted.

{Izod.} _(down R., C.)_ I tell you I want coin, _(sniffing)_ I've got such an awful cold through lying under those ricks in the mist. I want coin.

{Chris.} I haven't any.

{Izod.} Then I don't open my mouth to the parson about what I saw last night. I tell you I want coin.

{Chris.} What for?

{Izod.} _(reflectively)_ For--for--to buy a pocket- handkerchief.

{Chris.} _(hurriedly takes out her purse)_ How much?

{Izod.} _(after consideration)_ Six and sixpence.

{Chris.} _(turns)_ For a pocket-handkerchief!

{Izod.} I want rather a large size pocket-handkerchief.

{Chris.} _(gives him the money, then listens--looking towards R.)_ Somebody's coming--go away.

_(Izod slouches off L., as Felicity enters door R.)_ _(C. to Fel.)_ Now then, you! _(meets Fel. C.)_

{Fel.} _(R. C, turning)_ Yes, Miss Christiana. _(meeting Chris, C.)_

_(Chris, takes a letter from the pocket of her apron, and holds it up, and then puts it behind back.)_

{Chris.} Here's a pretty thing, and a very pretty thing; and who is the owner of this pretty thing? You shan't have it till you guess what it is.

{Fel.} A letter for the Squire?

{Chris.} No.

{Fel.} For me? _(joyfully and eagerly)_

{Chris.} Yes.

{Fel.} _(eagerly)_ Give it me, please.

_(She holds out her hand for it; Chris, puts the letter behind her.)_

{Chris.} Who is it from?

{Fel.} How am I to know till I see it?

{Chris.} Guess.

{Fel.} How did you get it? _(quickly)_

{Chris.} It was left here this morning by a common soldier.

{Fel.} _(jumps with glee)_ Oh, it's from Tom! He's not common--he's a sergeant. How dare you keep my letter all day?

{Chris.} _(holds up letter--reading the address)_ "Miss Felicity Gunnion--immejit." Immejit. He can't even spell properly--that's a good match for a girl.

{Fel.} _(indignantly)_ I can't spell at all--it's a very good match, _(she snatches the letter from Chris, and opens it--aside)_ Dear Tom--_(crosses to sofa L.)_-- that's his smudge--he always begins with a smudge. _(she sits on couch L., and reads--Chris, watches her grimly--reads)_ "Dear Miss Gunnion." Dear Miss Gunnion! Oh, Tom! _(she reads quickly)_

{Chris.} How is he? What does he call you-- Lovey or Popsey? He smokes bad tobacco; I shouldn't care for him to kiss me.

{Fel.} _(wiping her eyes in great distress--crying)_ Oh, dear! Oh, dear! Oh, dear! _(she takes her earrings from her ears and throws them over the back of the couch)_

{Chris.} _(L. C.)_ Hallo! what's wrong with the ear-rings?

{Fel.} _He_ sent them to me. You were quite right, Miss Christiana, he is common; he's the commonest, worst man in Pagley Barracks.

{Chris.} I'm glad of it; it serves you right. You shouldn't sneak into other women's shoes. _(She goes off L.)_ _(The harvest people are heard again in the distance singing a rough chorus. Off stage L. U. C.--laugh.)_

{All.} A song, a song! Ay, ay, a song! _(rapping mugs on table)_

{Loud Voice.} Silence! yee.

"The Countryman's Song"

_(Kate Verity enters towards end of song from door R., looking white and worn, without noticing Fel.; she crosses slowly to window L., enters the recess, opens casement, and looks out. The Villagers, who are supposed to be enjoying themselves in the court below, break off their singing as Kate appears and cry out to her.)_

{Man's Voice.} Theer's Squire!

{All.} Hurrah!

{Woman's Voice.} How are ye, Squire? Are you better, Squire?

_(Kate nods and closes window. Murmurs gradually subsiding. She sits on the sofa L., C., Felicity rises and crosses to go off R., D., and turns as Kate speaks.)_

{Kate.} Why, Felicity, what a sad little face. _(Fel. goes to Kate with her letter.)_

{Fel.} I--I--I've had awful bad news, Squire.

{Kate.} _(sits)_ Well, sensible, strong-minded creatures like you and me are not to be knocked over by a little bad news, _(patting Fel's head kindly)_ What is it?

{Fel.} _(kneels at Kate's side R., of her)_ Oh, Squire, dear, listen to this, _(reading the letter)_ "Dear Miss Gunnion"--fancy that, Squire, from Tom Morris-- "the news have come to Pagley that our regiment is the next for India. _(Kate starts)_ The orders are posted that we embark in ten days from this present, in the 'Orion.'"

{Kate.} Stop! For India--Eric's regiment, _(she covers her face with her hands)_ Oh!

{Fel.} What's the matter, Squire?

{Kate.} Nothing, dearie; don't mind me. Go on!

{Fel.} _(continuing letter)_ "I have been thinking of the matter careful, and have come to the conclusion that the climate of India would not agree with your health, it being a swelterer. I therefore let you off of your engagement, but have spoke to old Stibbs, the butler at Mrs. Thorndyke's, who has saved money, and wants for to marry again, and I have mentioned you as a steady hard-working lass who would make any man's home a palace. Send me back the silver earrings you had from me, as they will only remind you of him you have lost. So, no more from your heart-broken Tom." Oh, Squire!

{Kate.} _(kisses Fel. on the forehead)_ Thank Heaven, on your knees, little woman, that you can never be that man's wife.

{Fel.} _(rises and dries her eyes, and crosses to R. C.)_ I--I'm sure I'm very glad of it. _(standing C.)_ Oh, Squire, them soldiers are a bad, deceiving lot. The King has their chests padded, and so girls think they've got big hearts, but it's all wadding, Squire, it's all wadding, _(goes up R.)_

_(Gunnion enters door L.)_

{Gun.} I'm darned if this ain't a'most too much for an old man. _(calling off, at door)_ Come on with ye! _(Robjohns, Junior enters, attired in his best and carrying his fiddle in a green baize bag; he has a white hat in his hand.)_

I've got him at last; blessed if he ain't been dressing hisself since nine o'clock this morning, _(up by L., D.)_

{Rob.} _(L. U, advancing)_ Well, Squire, I'm truly sorry that I'm two hours and a yarf behind time, and I hope it'll make no difference.

{Kate.} _(sitting L., C.)_ No, no.

{Rob.} But, fact is, Squire, father's a-lingerin' in a most aggravatin' way, and rare work I had to get the yat from him.

{Kate.} _(absently)_ The hat?

{Rob.} _(holding out the hat)_ Father's white 'at, Squire--he's full o' yearthly pride and wouldn't give it up.

_(Rob. goes to L., D. and takes fiddle out of bag, as Fell, the grocer, a stout man, with his Wife and a little Child enter--types of village trades-people.)_

{Gun.} _(C.)_ Squire, this is Mr. Fell, the proprietor of the grocer shop down by Thong Lane.

{Fell.} _(L. U., advancing)_ I beg pardon, not a grocer's shop--stores!

{Gun.} Maybe it's grocer's shop, maybe it's stores, but if the Fells imagine that droppin' in late is Market-Sinfield manners, they're darned well mistook. Dooks may do it, but not grocers nor even stores.

{Kate.} _(on sofa--reproachfully)_ Gunnion!

{Gun.} Well, I'm the master of the ceremonies, I am.

_(Mr. and Mrs. Fell argue out the subject with Gun. up C., Kate beckons the little Child, who runs to her.)_

{Kate.} _(rises and kneels with Child C.)_ Come here, Toddle--what's your little name?

{Child.} Stores.

_(Gunnion places Mrs. Fell on stool up C. Fell takes chair from L., of bureau and sits beside her.)_

{Kate.} Stores! No, no, no, that's not your name. _(crosses to R., with Child)_

_(Felicity places stool beside chair R., C., of it, and Child sits. Fel. behind her. The Shabby Person, representative of the "Pagley Mercury" appears, supported on either side by two country people, men)_

{Gun.} Squire, I'm mortally grieved to say this 'ere is _Mercury_. He's a little tired; we found him in the parlour of the White Lion. Come on, drat 'ee!

_(Enter Dame, her husband and son with clarionet Kate meets Dame.)_

{Kate.} Ah, Dame, glad to see you!

{Dame.} Long life to you, Squire.

{Kate.} _(pointing to chair L.)_ Sit down, Dame.

_(Crowd follow, all bob and curtsey and say)_ All. Mornin', Squire! How are you, Squire?

_(Group formed L., of stage, Gunnion arranging them. Kate sits R., The S. P. is placed upon the couch. The Villagers and Farm Servants, Men, Women, and Children troop in and cluster in doorway up stage L., At the same time the Parson, breaking his way through them, enters and comes to Kate. Kate. with the little child, rises to receive him.)_

{Kate.} _(gratefully)_ Ah, Parson, how kind of you.

{Dormer.} You--you look ill.

{Kate.} No, no, not now.

{Dormer.} Whose child is this?

{Kate.} Mr. Fell's, the grocer's little girl.

{Dormer.} Bah! the world's full of girls.

{Gun.} Now then, Joe Parsley, leave go of Jane Boadsley's waist! You don't see me lowering myself with a woman! Squire, the Harvest Song! Go on, drat 'ee!

_(A simple rustic chorus is sung to the accompaniment of Rob's fiddle.)_

Chorus of Villagers.

A Woman. What have you got for me, Good-man?

All Women. Say--a--a--a--ay!

Men. Laces and rings and womanly things, Upon our harvest day--a--a--a--ay!

A Woman. _(holding up a baby)_ What's for your baby boy, Good-man?

All Women. Say--a--a--a--ay!

Men. Bawbles and milk and a robe of silk, Upon our harvest day--a--a--a--ay!

A Woman. _(pointing to the Squire)_ What have you got for She, Good-man?

All Women, _(pointing to the Squire)_ Say--a--a--a--ay!

Men. _(stooping as if to carry a burden)_ Why, sheaf and stack, and a weary back, Upon our harvest day--a--a--a--ay!

CHORUS. Everybody. Bread in the oven, milk in the can, And wood for the winter fire!

Fire-ire-ire! A broken back for the husbandman, And golden corn for the Squire!

Squire-ire-ire!

_(At end of Chorus a young girl comes from the crowd and presents Kate with a basket of fruit and flowers. Kate kisses her--the girl returns.)_

{Gun.} Squire Verity, it was my desire for to have been took down in my words by Mercury. Mercury, however, is _non composite_, as the saying goes.

{Villagers.} More shame for him!

{Gun.} But what I have to tell you is this here, Squire; the men wish you a better harvest next harvest than this harvest--as much 'ops and more wheat and barley, not to say hoats.

{Villagers.} Hear, hear!

{Gun.} The women wish you a good husband, who'll love you and protect you and put a load o' money into the land, and have all the cottages well white-washed.

{Villagers.} Hear! Hear!

{Gun.} And lastly--if the parson will allow me that word--lastly, we all wish you may live amongst us long and happy until you're an octo--an octo--an octagon. I'm sorry _Mercury_ can't take me down.

{Villagers.} Bravo, Gunnion! Well spoken, very good!

_(Kate rising--with her hand on the little Child's head--Felicity puts stool bach, and stands by Kate taking her hand and kissing it at end of speech.)_

{Kate.} My dear friends, you are kinder to me than I deserve, which makes me very pained at what I have to tell you. You and I, who have been together for so many years, and who have loved one another so much, have to part company.

{Villagers.} _(murmur)_ What!

{Gun.} Part company! You don't mean to say you're going to put more machinery in the land, Squire?

{Kate.} I mean that I am going away from Market- Sinfield, perhaps never to come back.

{Villagers.} Oh, what will become of us? _(a murmur from the Women)_

{Kate.} The lands will be worked by a richer farmer, and you and your homes will be the gainers.

{Villagers.} No, that they won't! _(they shake their heads)_

{Kate.} But what I ask of you, is--don't forget me--

_(Sob from one of the Women.)_ --and to make sure of that, please christen some of your children by my name. Kate is a pretty name, and when your babies grow up, tell them why they bear it. _(she kisses the Child and sends it back to the group, then sits and cries)_

{Gun.} _(sympathetically)_ Well, all I've got to say is, Squire, we're well nigh heart broke, _(turning to the group)_ My eye--up'll go the rents.

{Dormer.} _(coming down)_ Be off, all of you-- don't stand and gape at a woman who is crying! _(Felicity exits R., D. Mercury assisted off. Fel. places his chair back as before. Dormer goes off through the group; the rest sorrowfully disperse, looking over their shoulders at Kate. As they leave Gil. comes through them, and is left on the stage. He softly closes the door and crosses to Kate R., C.--Voices till Gilbert speaks.)_

{Gil.} _(quietly)_ Squire!

{Kate.} _(looking up quickly)_ Oh, Gilbert! _(she gives him her hand across the table)_

{Gil.} _(L. of table)_ I've been watching for a chance of a word with you. Ah, Squire, how good of you even to look at me!

{Kate.} Don't speak so, Gilbert.

{Gil.} When you think of me as I was! Ah, Squire, I had the devil in me last night, and I would have shot the young lieutenant like a dog in this very room, but for--I can't say it.

{Kate.} But for what?

{Gil.} But for the sudden thought that you were as guilty a woman as he was a man.

{Kate.} You didn't know, Gilbert.

{Gil.} Thank you, Squire, I didn't know, _(advances to her, looking round to be sure they are alone)_ Well, Squire, I've seen Mr. Thorndyke this very morning.

{Kate.} _(eagerly)_ Yes?

{Gil.} And I'm the bearer of a message from him.

{Kate.} _(rising)_ A message--what is it? Quick? _(checking herself)_ Oh, no, it doesn't matter--don't tell me.

{Gil.} Ah, Squire, you can't have heard the news. The regiment's going away to a strange country-- it's his duty, and he goes too.

{Kate.} _(faltering)_ Yes, I know--going away-- soon.

{Gil.} Well, Squire, I parted from him less than an hour ago, and he grips my hand and says to me, "Gilbert, you're the only soul that know's our secret, and you're my friend and hers, and we trust you." --God bless him for that, Squire! "And, Gilbert," says he, "I'm packed off to the Rajkote station in India, where many a gravestone marks the end of a short life. It's a good country for broken hearts, Gilbert. And, Gilbert," says he, "I want to wish _her_ a good-bye. She won't refuse me that, Gilbert, she can't refuse me that." _(Kate goes to fire)_ Ah, Squire, I've got a man's heart, though it's rough, and all my poor disappointments and troubles are nothing to such a sorrow as this. And I'm here for your answer, Squire--waiting.

{Kate.} I can't see him. I must not see him. I am weak--ill. My answer--no!

{Gil.} I won't take it, Squire. My heart goes out to him. I can't bear that answer back.

{Kate.} Then tell him that you found me well, cheerful, with a smile, among my people. Say it is better as it is; that we must learn to forget--say anything, _(she sinks helplessly in chair)_

{Gil.} Oh, Squire! _(approaches her)_

{Kate.} Do as I bid you--keep him away from me --that's all.

{Gil.} _(walks sadly over to L., C, then turns)_ Nothing more.

{Kate.} Nothing more.

_(The door L., opens, and Chris. enters with Izod at her heels.)_

{Chris.} _(to Gil.)_ Gilbert, the children are crying out for you to tell them your fairy stories, and sing your songs to them.

{Gil.} I'm coming, _(crosses to L.)_ _(Chris, and Izod. go up stage R., As Gil. is leaving, Kate rises and calls him.)_

{Kate.} Gilbert! _(crosses to Gilbert)_

{Gil.} _(turning)_ Squire!

{Kate.} _(she lays her hand on his arm--aside)_ Gilbert--I--I have thought about it. Tell Mr. Thorndyke that the poor folks look for a glimpse of him to-day. That he shouldn't leave England without seeing the last of Verity's farm. Gilbert, say that we need not meet, _(quickly)_ Go--tell him to come to me!

_(Gil. hurries off; Kate sits on couch L., Chris. stands before her. Izod. comes down C.)_

{Chris.} You're going to turn your back on Market- Sinfield, Squire. What's to become of me! _(crosses her arms)_

{Kate.} The poor servant's fortune always falls with the house, Christie. You're young and strong, and better off than your mistress.

{Chris.} _(uncrosses and uses her arms)_ Ah, I see; it's the baby face and baby tongue of old Gunnion's daughter that pleases you now! And why? Because the child can talk to you of the barracks at Pagley, and the jests they make, and the stories they tell about young Thorndyke's lady-love!

{Kate.} _(raising her head)_ You are an insolent woman!

{Chris.} Insolent I may be, but I'm not worse! _(goes a little to R.)_

{Kate.} What do you mean?

{Chris.} That your precious love-secret is known to my brother and me. That we can spell the name of the man who is the most welcome guest here, in broad daylight when doors are open, and in the dead of night when doors are locked!

{Kate.} _(rising and seizing Christie's wrist)_ Christie!

{Chris.} _(throwing her off--placing her hands behind her defiantly)_ Don't you touch me, because I'm your servant no longer! don't touch me, because you're not fit to lay your hand upon a decent woman!

{Kate.} All the ills of the world at one poor woman's door! _(sits on sofa)_ What is it you want?

{Izod.} _(aside to Chris.)_ Coin!

{Chris.} This: I've got gipsy blood in me, and that means "all or none." Will you promise to turn old Gunnion's child away, never to have her near you again?

{Kate.} If I refuse, what will you do?

{Chris.} Tell the parson that there's a lady in Market-Sinfield who needs as much praying for as she can get from him on Sundays--tell him what Izod saw last night and what I heard--give him a new text to preach to the poor folks who call you their saint.

{Kate.} You'll do this? _(rises)_ Then I promise to be a friend to little Felicity as long as she loves me and clings to me. Say the worst you can.

_(Izod goes up towards L., D. and remains. Chris. makes a movement as if going. Kate stops her.)_

{Kate.} _(rises)_ Christiana! _(Chris. stands before Kate with her hands behind her back)_ I'll give you this thought to help you. I stand here, the last of my name, in our old house, wretched and in trouble. I'm not the first Verity that has come to grief, but I shall be the first at whose name there's a hush and a whisper. And this will be to your credit--to the credit of one who has fed and slept under my roof, and who has touched my lips with hers. _(She comes to Chris, and lays her hand upon her shoulder)_ Christie, if you ever marry and have children that cry to be lulled to sleep, don't sing this story to them lest they should raise their little hands against their mother. Remember that. _(sits again)_

_(Eric Thorndyke enters quickly, door L., and stands facing Kate. Christiana and Izod look at each other significantly; there is a pause--Christie backs a little so that Eric passes in front of her, Izod passes behind and gets on steps.)_

{Chris.} _(with a curtsey to Eric)_ Your servant, Lieutenant. You haven't forgotten the Harvest Feast, sir.

_(He makes no answer. Chris, and Izod cross quietly to door L.)_

_(In Izod's ear)_ Come to the parson--now.

_(They go out, Kate and Eric are alone--they look at each other.)_

{Eric.} _(C.)_ Thank you for seeing me.

{Kate.} You ought to hate me for it. _(on sofa)_

{Eric.} I should have delayed this till you were stronger, but I was in dread that you would go without a word.

{Kate.} I leave Market-Sinfield to-morrow. I should not have said good-bye to you. You look tired and worn out.

_(Eric advances to sit beside her, she checks him and points to stool C.)_

Sit down--there. _(he sits wearily)_ Has your mother written?

{Eric.} _(with a short bitter laugh produces a letter from his pocket-book)_ _(C.)_ Oh, yes; here is my congé. The gates of The Packmores are shut and locked. Stibbs, the butler, has orders to clear out everything that spells the name of Eric. Poor mother!

{Kate.} Ah, that needn't be now; you must tell her we have quarrelled, that I have jilted you, or you me --anything for a home.

{Eric.} _(rises)_ Home, Kate! Home! That's all over. _(comes down C.)_

{Kate.} Hush! hush!

{Eric.} I've been with Sylvester, our lawyer, this morning; he is going to raise money on the reversion of my aunt Tylcote's little place, which must come to me. It is the merest trifle, but it is something. And I've written to the agents in town about setting aside half my pay.

{Kate.} _(looking up)_ What is the meaning of that?

{Eric.} For you, Kate. I've no thought but for you, dear, and the little heart which is to beat against yours.

{Kate.} _(starts up--rises)_ Oh, Eric, unless you wish to make me mad, you mustn't be kind to me, I can't bear it. _(advancing C. firmly)_ Why, Eric, do you think I'd let you pinch and struggle for me! _(they meet C.)_

{Eric.} _(hotly)_ Why, Kate, you wouldn't live in a fashion that doesn't become my wife!

_(He stops short--they look at each other, then turn away.)_

{Kate.} _(sits again on sofa--under her breath)_ Oh, Eric, what made you say that?

{Eric.} It slipped from me--I didn't meant to say it. Oh, it comes so naturally, _(goes up to L., of L. window)_

{Kate.} It doesn't matter; it's all through wrangling about miserable money, _(goes to R., of L. window)_

_(The lights are getting duller, the faint glow of the setting sun is seen outside the windows.)_

Look! there's the sun going down; we mustn't stay here longer. _(She comes closer to him, looking up into his face. They stand with their hands behind them.)_ There's time only for one last word.

{Eric.} I'm listening, _(coming down R.)_

{Kate.} _(tearfully)_ It's this. You may--of course--write to me--to the Post Office at Bale, for the present. Not to make it a tax upon you. But when you've nothing better or more cheerful to do-- oh, write to me then!

{Eric.} Oh, Kate! _(He moves down R., towards her, she goes back a pace to avoid him)_

{Kate.} _(leans against chair)_ No, no, I'm not going to cry. _(smiling)_ A man is always so frightened that a woman is going to cry. And, Eric, promise me, dear, never to gamble, nor bet--only very little. Will you promise?

{Eric.} Yes, I promise!

{Kate.} _(both centre)_ Don't listen to stories at the mess table about officers' wives--don't sit up too late--don't drink too much wine.

{Eric.} There's no chance of that, _(walks toward settee L.)_

{Kate.} Ah, dear, you haven't been in trouble till now. And lastly, always go to church and be a good fellow.

{Eric.} Which means, Kate--try to do everything I should have done in the happy life we might have lived together, _(sits, Eric on settee, Kate C.)_

{Kate.} Yes, that's what I mean. And when you find yourself getting very miserable, which means, getting very weak, I want you to say to yourself-- "Eric, old fellow, pull up--you've got a true love somewhere--you don't know where she is--but you'd better do everything she bids you, for she's a perfect tyrant" _(she breaks down, and stands C.)_

{Eric.} _(puts hat on chair)_ That's your last word, Kate--this is mine.

_(MUSIC.)_

When I get away from India, on leave, I shan't know where to bend my steps unless it's to the country that holds my girl.

{Kate.} No, no. _(moves to table)_

_(Rises and crosses, both near table.)_

{Eric.} Ah, listen, _(he holds out his right hand and traces upon it, as if it were a map, with his left)_ Suppose my hand's a map--there are lines enough on it--and that you're dwelling in some pretty foreign place, say _here_. Well, then, when you're _here_, I could while away the time _there_, and if you're weary of that one spot and run off to _there_, I could pack up my bag and smoke my cigar _here_. You see, darling? Never too near you, where I've no right, but always about thirty or forty miles away. So that in the twilights, which are long and saddening in foreign places, you might sit and say to yourself, "I don't want to meet Eric face to face, because he'd remind me of old times and old troubles, but he's not more than forty miles away, and he's thinking of his dear love at this very moment."

_(MUSIC changes.)_

{Kate.} _(drawing her hand across her eyes)_ You mustn't speak to me any more.

_(Eric takes his hat. Kate goes down to R., C.)_

{Eric.} Good-bye. _(looking in her face, trying to smile)_ Why, I do believe I shall begin to write you my Indian budget this very evening.

{Kate.} _(struggling with her tears)_ It doesn't matter how long the letter is. Good-bye. _(she holds out her hand, he walks down slowly and takes her hand. There is a pause--softly)_ You are going away--I can't help it.

_(MUSIC ceases.)_

_(She lays her head quietly upon his breast, he folds his arms round her. As they part Dormer enters door L., with a stern face.)_

{Eric.} Mr. Dormer!

{Dormer.} _(L.)_ We meet, as we have met before, sir, in hot blood. Mr. Thorndyke, you have no secret that is not shared by me, and yet you are here, sir! For shame!

{Eric.} _(C.)_ Let me remind you, Mr. Dormer, that one of the few advantages of being neither a pauper nor a felon is freedom of action.

{Dormer.} Mr. Thorndyke, I am without the smooth tongue of my class. I find you in a woman's house, where you are a guest by night as well as by day. I bid you begone. You are a soldier lacking chivalry--a man who makes war upon weakness --you are a coward! _(step)_

{Eric.} A coward, Mr. Dormer, is one who, under the cover of his age and profession, uses language for which a younger and a braver man would be chastised, _(goes up stage toward fire-place)_

{Kate.} _(crosses to Dormer R.)_ Parson, you don't guess the truth. If you knew! _(crosses to C. Eric drops R.)_

{Dormer.} I'll know no more. Miss Verity, I am the pastor of a flock of poor, simple people, who regard your words as precepts, and your actions as examples. I will spare you the loss of their good will, but I demand, so long as you remain in this parish, that Mr. Thorndyke be excluded from your house.

_(Kate goes up to bureau.)_

{Eric.} Oh, sir, I can relieve your mind on that point; a moment later you would have found me gone. Good-bye, Miss Verity, I shall inform you of my arrival abroad if you will let me.

{Kate.} _(takes his hand, and looks firmly at Dormer)_ Stop! Parson Dormer, this house is mine; while my heart beats, for good or for evil, neither you nor your bishop could shut my doors upon the man I love. That is _your_ answer.

{Dormer.} And to think that yesterday your voice had a charm and a melody for me. It serves me rightly for forgetting my old lesson. What a fool! What a fool! _(he goes deliberately to bell rope L., and pulls it)_

{Kate.} What are you going to do?

{Dormer.} My duty.

{Kate.} What is that?

{Dormer.} To open the eyes of these blind people.

{Kate.} Open their eyes to what?

{Dormer.} Your guilt.

_(Eric gives an indignant cry. Kate goes to Dormer.)_

{Kate.} Guilt! It's not true! Parson, I am unhappy, with a life wasted, with hope crushed out of me, but not guilty yet. I am this man's wife in the sight of heaven, married a year ago at God's altar, prayed over and blessed by a priest of your church, to be divorced by the cruel snare which made you its mouthpiece. Parson, I am desperate and weak, but not guilty yet!

{Dormer.} Kate! Kate! look in my eyes--is this the truth?

{Kate.} _(clinging to Eric)_ As true as that at this moment, for the first time in my life, I am in danger!

_(Eric leads her to chair R., she sits. The village crowd, headed by Christiana, Izod, Gunnion, and Felicity, appear at door L., Christiana triumphant. Dormer faces the crowd.)_

{Dormer.} Friends, Market-Sinfield people, _(laying his hand on Chris's, arm)_ you've been told by this good creature here that I've a few words to speak to you. Very well, this is my text. Beware of Tale Bearers! They destroy the simplicity of such natures as yours; they feed the bitterness of such a nature as mine. I entreat you, firstly, to believe nothing ill against those you hate, and you'll grow to love them; secondly, to believe nothing ill against those you love, and you'll love them doubly. Lastly, whatever you think, whatever you do, to pity this poor lady _(pointing to Kate)_ who is in some trouble at leaving the place where she was born. Go! _(turns down C.)_

_(Chris, snatches her arm from Dormer with a bitter look. The crowd makes a movement to go, when Gil forces his way through and comes to Dor. L. of him.)_

{Gil.} _(aside to Dormer)_ Parson, you're wanted up yonder!

{Dormer.} What is it?

_(Gil. whispers a few words in Dormer's ear, and falls back. Dormer raises his hand to stop the crowd.)_

{Dormer.} _(emphatically)_ Stay! before you go I'll tell you why the Squire leaves Market-Sinfield. _(goes a little to R., C.)_

{Kate.} _(rises and goes up behind table--to Dormer)_ Parson! No! _(goes down on Dormer's L.)_

{Dormer.} _(not heeding Kate)_ She is going to be the wife of that young man there, our neighbor Thorndyke.

{Crowd.} What! Married!

{Dormer.} She is going to be married to him in your presence, in my church, and by me, before another Sunday passes.

_(A cry from the Crowd.)_

But neighbor Thorndyke is off to India for some years with his good wife, on duty to his Queen, and that's why you lose your Squire. Men and women, on your knees to-night, say God bless Squire Kate and her husband, and bring them back to us to Market-Sinfield!

_(Another cry from the Crowd.)_

Crowd. Hurrah!

{Kate.} _(L. of Dormer--grasping Dormer's arm, aside to him)_ Parson, the woman at the "White Lion!"

{Dormer.} Hush! _(to Eric)_ Mr. Thorndyke, you're a free man, sir, your wife is dead!

_(MUSIC.)_

_(As the curtain falls, Kate kneels, Dormer puts his hand on her head.)_

THE END.