SCENE II.
A dwelling street in the city, seen in an almost deserted condition. The time is early evening. The wreck of a buggy lies crushed against a curbstone; the traces are broken, the horse having released herself and disappeared. The wreck lies in shadow, and the prostrate form of a man is but dimly discerned. After a few moments of suspense and silence, slowly crawling to his feet,
_Arises_ DR. THORNE. (_He is dressed for driving, as when he left home; his overcoat disarranged, muddy, and torn; his hat gone; his face has a singular pallor, and his whole appearance is agitated. As he rises, he throws a carriage robe back over the spot where he had been lying. He speaks._)
DR. THORNE. That dastardly brute has done it, now! I’ll sell Donna for this.--It will play the mischief with that old injury. I shall exchange an interesting limp for crutches, now.--Hil-loa! (_Walks to and fro with perfect ease._) The shock has acted like a battery on the nerve centres. Instead of a broken neck I have a cured leg. I’m a lucky fellow--as usual. (_Laughs lightly; turns to examine the condition of the ruined buggy; suddenly looks confused, and puts his hand to his head._) Curious cerebral symptoms I have! Queer, there isn’t a crowd round. They must have missed the trail when Donna bolted. She’ll be at the stable by this time.--She won’t go home. Helen won’t know.... I shouldn’t like to be the man that had to tell Helen!... I must get to her--I must get home as soon as I’ve been to the Hospital. I’m afraid I was a little short with Helen. I wish-- (_Presses both hands to his temples as if to command himself; looks more and more bewildered._) I must have been pretty well stunned--seems to me there was a collision. I ran down somebody. It was a landau--we crashed--I saw it overturn--there were people in it I knew--patients.... Who?... _Who?_ (_Stamps the pavement peremptorily, and impatiently strikes his own head._) Who was it?--Horrible! The brain cells do not obey me--_me!_ (_Walks about frenziedly._) ... Ach--ch! It is worse to remember than to forget. I have it now--the sweetest woman of them all--Helen’s friend--the gentlest, the most obedient, most trustful, the bravest patient I ever had--Mrs. Fayth. I saw her face as the carriage went over.... She stretched out her hands, and said: “Doctor!” It was Mary Fayth. (_His face falls into his hands. For a moment he sinks down on the wreck of the buggy; but springs up._) Now that accounts for it.--The crowd are all there. The accident was so bad nobody has thought of me. _She_ is the victim. _I_ have escaped. Dead or alive, she is done for. She never could recover from a shock like that. I must go and find her. I must find Mrs. Fayth. (_Starts and hurriedly walks down the street, peering everywhere._)
[_Exit_ DR. THORNE.
(_In his absence no person passes the street._)
_Re-enter_ DR. THORNE.
Strange! How strange! I cannot find her. I cannot find anything--nor anybody that a man would naturally meet under such circumstances. Not a trace of the accident--yet I’m _as sure of it as I am that I’m alive_. (_Pronounces these words slowly, and paces the sidewalk, irresolute._) It all came from my being overdue at the Hospital. I suppose I did drive Donna pretty fast. I wonder if I struck her? I am always in such an infernal hurry--I never have had time to live. _I am driven to death._ (_He says the last five words, not impatiently, but with a certain solemn deliberation._) I must go at once to Mrs. Fayth’s house. They must have carried Mary there--I wish I could spare time to see Helen!--I’ll go right home as soon as I’ve been to Fayth’s. Odd! How these brain symptoms last. I must have had quite a blow. I don’t--I can’t--it is mortifying to feel so confused.
[_Exit_ DR. THORNE.
(_In his absence the street remains deserted._)
_Re-enter_ DR. THORNE.
_Enter behind him a tall_ Woman. (_She is wrapped in a long ash-colored veil, or mantle, beneath which shows a gleaming gown of flame-color. She follows_ DR. THORNE _silently. She keeps at a distance from him. Her step is a gliding, stealthy one. The_ Woman _does not speak_.)
DR. THORNE. There must be serious cerebral congestion. I cannot find the street. I cannot find Fayth’s house. What part of this bewitched town am I in? I have lost my way--I, Esmerald Thorne, with a clientele of twenty years from end to end of the city--I cannot find my way.
_Enter a_ Suburban, _a_ Loafer, _and a_ Priest. (_The_ Woman _draws her veil, and looks solemnly at_ DR. THORNE _as she passes. Her face is pale and wretched, but possesses singular beauty._)
[_Exit the_ Woman.
(DR. THORNE _does not notice the_ Woman.)
(_The_ Loafer _leans against a post. He stares stupidly at the wreck._)
(_The_ Priest _walks slowly, reciting an Ave_.)
(_The_ Suburban _hurries on, making a wide circle to avoid the ruins of the carriage_.)
DR. THORNE (_addressing the_ Suburban). Can you tell me?--Here! Hold on a minute! Man, can’t you answer a civil question? Will you tell me--
THE SUBURBAN (_pays no attention to_ DR. THORNE, _but hurries on. Consults his watch; speaks._) I shall lose my train!
[_Exit_ Suburban, _running_.
DR. THORNE (_with puzzled impatience, addressing the_ Loafer). Here!--You! Why, it’s Jerry! Just tell me, will you, Jerry, where the accident was, and how much was the lady hurt?
(_The_ Loafer _stares stupidly at_ DR. THORNE, _but makes no answer_.)
[_Exit_ Loafer.
DR. THORNE (_with trouble on his face, more gently addresses the_ Priest, _whom he slightly touches on the arm_). Sir!--Oh, Father Sullivan! Look here, Father! I’m ashamed to confess, I have lost my way. Would you direct me to the house of the well-known merchant, Frederick Fayth? I am due there on an urgent professional errand, and--I cannot explain the phenomenon--but I have lost my way!
(_The_ Priest _repeats an Ave under his breath. He looks_ DR. THORNE _full in the face, but does not reply_.)
DR. THORNE. And will you be so kind as to tell me whether you have heard of a carriage accident down-town--and how much was the lady hurt? Did you--
PRIEST(_looks blindly over_ DR. THORNE’S _head; mutters_). Nay--Nay. I see nothing. (_He crosses himself_). Ave Sanctissima! Ora pro nobis! (_He lifts his arms and, with a troubled and confused expression, makes the sign of the cross in the air over_ DR. THORNE. _Priest passes on._)
DR. THORNE (_gently_). Thank you, Father.
[_Exit_ Priest.
DR. THORNE (_stands sunken in thought for a few moments; suddenly starts and knots his hands together, then separates them with the motion of one blind or of one feeling his way in the dark_). I must see Helen! I must go to Helen!--Helen! _Helen!_
(_Sudden darkness settles. When it passes, the wreck of the buggy is removed._)
_Enter_ DR. THORNE. (_Walks rapidly and perplexedly, still with the manner of a man who has lost his way._)
[_Exit._
_Re-enter._
[_Exit._
_Re-enter_ (_speaks_).
I must get home. I _will_ get home. I _will see_ Helen! (_Stops sharply, as if smitten by an unseen force; cannot take another step; contends, as if with an invisible power; droops, as if vanquished; turns, and retraces his way; his head hangs to his breast. He speaks._) _What_ thwarts me from my home? _Who_ constrains me from my wife? (_Lifts his face angrily to the sky._) Is this hypnotism? (_Laughs sarcastically._) Am I an infant--or a maniac? It must be anæsthesia passing off. Perhaps I was etherized by some blank fool after that shock.--The accident! That is it, of course, of course! It is the cerebral concussion--a simple case.... I shouldn’t like this to get out. I believe I’ll go into my office--if I can find my office--and wait till this passes off. It is a perfectly simple case. (_Walks feverishly up and down the street, searching for his own office; mutters._) Ever since I yielded to that demand for a noon office hour downtown for business men--it has crowded me without mercy. If they hadn’t been my old patients, I wouldn’t have succumbed to it. It’s just another strand in the whiplash that has driven me to death. Well (_draws a long breath_)--I seem to be out of sorts to-night. I shall get over all this nonsense when I see Helen. Helen will set me right. _Helen will make a live man of me again._
END OF SCENE II.