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IF THE BOOK IS UNDER COPYRIGHT IN YOUR COUNTRY, DO NOT DOWNLOAD OR REDISTRIBUTE THIS FILE. _Title:_ Tomorrow and Tomorrow _Date of first publication:_ 1931 _Author:_ Philip Barry (1896-1949) _Date first posted:_ Jan. 12, 2015 _Date last updated:_ Feb. 2, 2015 Faded Page eBook #20150119 This ebook was produced by: Barbara Watson, Mark Akrigg, Alex White & the online Distributed Proofreaders Canada team at http://www.pgdpcanada.net =TOMORROW AND TOMORROW= PLAYS BY PHILIP BARRY THE YOUNGEST YOU AND I IN A GARDEN WHITE WINGS JOHN PARIS BOUND HOLIDAY HOTEL UNIVERSE TOMORROW AND TOMORROW TOMORROW AND TOMORROW _A Play_ BY PHILIP BARRY SAMUEL FRENCH Thos. R. Edwards Managing Director NEW YORK LOS ANGELES SAMUEL FRENCH LTD LONDON 1931 _ALL RIGHTS RESERVED_ Copyright, 1931, by Philip Barry First printing February, 1931 Second printing March, 1931 Third printing March, 1931 _CAUTION: Professionals and amateurs are hereby warned that “TOMORROW AND TOMORROW,” being fully protected under the copyright laws of the United States of America, the British Empire, including the Dominion of Canada, and all other countries of the Copyright Union, is subject to a royalty. All rights, including professional, amateur, motion pictures, recitation, public reading, radio broadcasting, and the rights of translation into foreign languages are strictly reserved. In its present form the play is dedicated to the reading public only. All inquiries regarding this play should be addressed to Samuel French, at 25 West 45th Street, New York, N. Y., or 811 West 7th Street, Los Angeles, Calif._ MANUFACTURED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA BY THE VAIL-BALLOU PRESS, INC., BINGHAMTON, N. Y. TO ADA AND ARCHIBALD MACLEISH “And it fell on a day, that Elisha passed to Shunem, where was a great woman. . . .” —II Kings, IV, 8-37 “TOMORROW AND TOMORROW” was first produced by Gilbert Miller at the Henry Miller Theatre in New York City on January 13, 1931. It was directed by Gilbert Miller and the settings were designed by Aline Bernstein. CHARACTERS GAIL REDMAN EVE REDMAN NICHOLAS HAY SAMUEL GILLESPIE WALTER BURKE CHRISTIAN REDMAN MISS FRAZER MISS BLAKE ELLA JANE MARY ACTION AND SCENE The action of the Play takes place in the living-room of Gail and Eve Redman’s house in Redmanton, Indiana. Between the scenes the stage is darkened for a few moments to indicate the passage of time. ACT ONE Scene 1. Several years ago. One o’clock in the morning. June. Scene 2. The following afternoon. Scene 3. Three weeks later. Noon. ACT TWO Scene 1. Ten days later. Eleven-thirty at night. Scene 2. Eight-thirty the following morning. Scene 3. October. Late afternoon. ACT THREE Scene 1. December of this year. After lunch. Scene 2. Seven in the morning. Three days later. Scene 3. A week later. Four in the afternoon. ACT ONE ACT ONE SCENE I SCENE: _The living-room of_ GAIL _and_ EVE REDMAN’S _house in Redmanton, Indiana, is a spacious, high-ceilinged, rectangular room in a house that was the Town’s, and_ GAIL’S _grandfather’s pride, when he built it in 1870_. _At Left, two French windows open upon a porch. At Right, there is a fireplace and beside it, a door into the library. Above the fireplace is_ GAIL’S _grandfather’s portrait, in a gilt frame. At Back, through an arched doorway hung with heavy velvet curtains, the hall and central staircase are seen and, through another doorway opposite, the large dining-room._ _The fine proportions of the living-room and the excellent Victorian pieces it contains, account in a large measure for its sombre charm. It has been lived-in long enough to have lost a portion of the forbidding dignity that was its original chief characteristic. Now it presents itself as a fairly comfortable, agreeable enough old room, for brighter, newer things have been added, such as lamps and sofa-cushions and vases full of flowers, deftly placed. Chairs and sofa are covered for the summer with slip-covers._ _When the curtain rises, the hall is dimly lighted and the dining-room beyond it dark. The only light in the living-room is from a reading-lamp which stands upon a table beside an arm-chair with a foot-rest. There are books upon the table, several upon the floor beside the chair, and one open, face-down upon the chair itself._ _The hands of the grandfather’s clock against the back wall, stand at three minutes before one. Upon a side-table near the library door, at Right, there is a tray with a plate of sandwiches, a napkin, glass, and a thermos-pitcher of milk._ _From the hall, off Left, a door is heard to close and_ GAIL REDMAN _comes into view along the hall. He deposits a suit-case and a hat and light topcoat upon a chair there and enters the living-room._ GAIL _is thirty, tall, well-built, likable-looking. At present he is stiff and tired. He stretches, looks at the clock, and yawns. He picks up the book that lies upon the chair, smiles and shakes his head, and places it upon the table, after turning down a page to mark the place. He is about to turn the lamp out when he notices the tray of sandwiches. He exclaims in satisfaction, goes to it, pours himself a glass of milk and returns to the chair with it and the plate of sandwiches._ _The clock strikes one._ GAIL _begins upon his second sandwich, yawns again and falls to nodding. Finally his chin sinks forward upon his chest, and rests there. A moment, then from the top of the stairs_ EVE REDMAN’S _voice is heard, calling gently_: EVE Gail—? (_Another moment, then_ GAIL _raises his head and listens attentively_. EVE _calls again_:) Gail!—Is it you? [GAIL _springs up and goes to the doorway_. GAIL Eve!—Hello, darling! EVE You’re back! GAIL —Don’t stir—I’ll be with you in half-a-second. [_He turns to extinguish the lights._ EVE That’s too long. I’m coming down. (_She comes down the stairs into the doorway. She is in her early twenties, but seems older. Hers is a frail and memorable loveliness, not so much of feature as from within. If she lasts, it will last, and time will alter it but little. He takes her in his arms and kisses her. She murmurs_:) Oh hello, hello— [_Then, his arm about her, they come into the living-room._ GAIL Lord, it’s good, isn’t it! EVE It seems forever. GAIL —Ten days to a dot. EVE You shouldn’t have spoiled me so. (_They sit together upon the sofa._)—Let me see what you look like. Have you altered? You’re burned, aren’t you?—Sun and wind and all the elements. GAIL I had the top down the whole way. I averaged forty-five from Akron on. That’s going. EVE —Reckless going.—Where’s the fire? GAIL Isn’t it here? [_She laughs._ EVE I hope so. GAIL —Eight hundred and seventy-four miles in two days. How’s that? EVE You must be dead. GAIL Twice I nearly passed out at the wheel. EVE That would have been nice for me: the widow Redman: she loved him well. GAIL Your voice sounds funny. Have you got a cold? EVE It’s just excitement. GAIL —I never thought you’d look for me tonight. EVE I knew you’d come. GAIL I’ve missed you terribly. EVE You’ve been too busy. GAIL A reunion is a riot, all right. EVE Fun, though? GAIL Oh yes, it was fun enough. (_He yawns, then smiles._)—Excuse me. EVE —Back to your college-days again. Is your youth pretty well renewed? GAIL Lord, no. It made me feel a thousand. EVE You’re terribly young, Gail. I’d forgotten how terribly young you are. GAIL I’ve got several years on you, my sweet. EVE Did you see Stew and Shorty? GAIL Stew and Shorty who? EVE I thought they were all called Stew and Shorty. GAIL Not quite.—All but Mac Stevens and Hump Nichols in my Club were back.—You should have seen the boat-races. Lord, the crowd! You couldn’t walk. EVE Were the girls pretty? GAIL There wasn’t one of them was a patch on you, Eve. [_She smiles._ EVE Thanks, Gail. GAIL You should have come along, you really should. EVE I didn’t know wives were welcome at reunions. GAIL That depends on the wives. EVE —Sweet Gail.—Anyhow, perhaps they’re nice to come back home to. GAIL Oh darling—maybe not! [_His arm tightens about her._ EVE —So are they reunited— [_He hisses her lightly._ GAIL —Forever and ever. EVE I don’t seem changed to you—? [GAIL _laughs_. GAIL Not so you could notice it! [_A moment._ EVE I am though. [_He looks at her curiously._ GAIL How do you mean? [_She smiles faintly._ EVE —Probably not seriously. Tell me: were they all glad to see you? GAIL But really, dear— EVE Tell me, Gail—were they glad to see you? GAIL They seemed to be. They trotted out the old song about “Gail Redman from Redmanton, Indiana son of a son-of-a-gun”— [_This pleases him._ EVE —“He makes plows for gentle-mun”? GAIL That’s it! EVE —“So drink to old Gail Redman.” GAIL “_Drink_, chuk-a-chuk, chuk-a-chuk, chuk-a-chuk. So _drink_, chuk-a-chuk—” [_He looks away, dreaming._ EVE You were happy to be back in those days. GAIL It was grand fun, you know. EVE I think you’ll never leave them, really. GAIL —You should have seen our costumes. We were Sheiks. I’ve got some snapshots. It was Nineteen-Twelve’s Decennial—they were bartenders, and kept trying to steal our camel. [_He chuckles reminiscently._ EVE Your—? [GAIL _laughs_. GAIL —We had one for a mascot. He was an enormous big brute, too—I mean she was. And stubborn? Say! (_Again he laughs._)—She’d just keep standing and weaving back and forth like this—(_He demonstrates._)—And waving her upper lip at us. (EVE _laughs_.)—It’s a fact. You never saw such teeth. Jim Winter took some tin-foil and gave her a gold one, but she ate it. (_Mirth overcomes him._)—Her name was Lulu. We had a song about her. She misbehaved right smack in front of Prexy’s office—how’s that for intelligence? Oh, she was a knowing brute, was Lulu. I’ve got a snapshot of her. We wanted to take her out to a ball-game, and would she go? Not Lulu—not until they put the class-baby on her back. [_He wipes his eyes._ EVE There wasn’t a baby with you! GAIL —Sure there was. Spike Bronson’s kid.—He was drunk most of the time, and got pretty objectionable once or twice.—I mean Spike did. EVE What was he like? How old was he? GAIL Oh, around three or four. Sort of blond, with bright blue eyes. EVE —On a camel! Wasn’t he scared to death? GAIL Not he. He loved it. EVE —Sweet. GAIL He was quite a kid.—But I thought I’d have to lay Spike out at one point there. EVE Oh? Why— GAIL Well, he got too blamed fresh, that’s all. [_He is serious again now._ EVE About what? GAIL Well, he was just fresh. EVE But how, Gail? GAIL Well, you see I was the first of the Class to marry. I was married nearly a year before he was, and—oh well, he just got fresh. [EVE _rises_. EVE Oh, I see. GAIL I soon shut him up, though. (_Again he yawns._)—What’s been happening since I’ve been away? Anything new at all? EVE Apparently the Works got a huge order for a lot of harrows for Brazil somewhere. GAIL —Peru, it is. Evans wired me. EVE —And President Adee has announced a summer extension-course at the College. GAIL Who does he think will come? EVE He told me nearly fifty have applied already. It’s to be for women, too. [GAIL _sits upright_. GAIL Women!—Redman gone co-educational? EVE Shocking, isn’t it? [_She is roving about the room now, touching things here and there._ GAIL But who on earth decided that? EVE I suppose the Board did. GAIL Nobody said anything to me about it. EVE You were away in the East, at your own Alma Mater. GAIL If they’re still sore at my not going to Redman, they shouldn’t have elected me. They could have wired, couldn’t they? EVE You’ve never shown much interest. How long since you’ve been at a meeting? GAIL —All I wish is that I had about half the jack Grandfather poured into that pet hobby. (_Again he yawns._)—Lord, what next? Classes in rhythmic dancing, I suppose.—They might have asked me. EVE I told Mr. Adee I was sure you would approve. GAIL —What made you say that? EVE Because I want to go. GAIL _You_ do? [_Suddenly_ EVE _breaks_. EVE Oh Gail—I must do something! Somehow or other I’ve got to find _some_ way to— [_She stops abruptly._ GAIL —To what, dear? What’s the matter? EVE I’m all right. GAIL But—you seem awfully jumpy, darling. Why do you walk around so much? EVE I don’t know. I can’t sit still.—Let’s go up, shall we? GAIL Wait a minute— [_He looks at her in puzzled concern. She does not meet his eyes. She begins to talk on rapidly, as against time._ EVE —I gave two hundred dollars to the Infants’ Summer Hospital—was that all right? GAIL I guess so. EVE —The roof above the store-room leaks. I’ve ordered it mended.—The horses are fine. O’Brien says Eli’s foot is coming along nicely.—The Science Department’s got hold of a man called Hay from Montreal—isn’t that where McGill is?—Doctor Nicholas Hay, I think his name is—to start things with a four weeks’ lecture-course, beginning Monday. The Adees say he’s really fine. They heard him at Ohio State last winter. He’s on a kind of tour. I told them he could stay with us. GAIL Eve—what on earth— EVE —I thought it would be such a nice surprise for him, the hotel is so bad. Besides, I thought it would be pleasant to have—you know—someone to do for. GAIL Oh. EVE He’ll probably have whiskers, and be very cranky. [GAIL _groans_. GAIL That will be nice. EVE —And then again, he may be rather sweet. I hope he’s like Father was—I hope he’s so old and absent-minded he can’t do one thing for himself. GAIL —Which will be just your dish, of course. EVE You see, I have no one to look out for anymore. No one at all— GAIL There’s me, isn’t there? EVE You look out for yourself. You always have. GAIL You still love me, don’t you, dear? EVE —I love, Gail. So it must be you I love. GAIL That’s a sort of a queer way to put it.—Darling, you do seem different. What’s happened? EVE Nothing has happened. GAIL Then— EVE —For a long time nothing has, and for a long time nothing will. That’s what I’ve found out. That is the change in me. GAIL I don’t get you at all when you talk this way. EVE I’m only saying that I’ve nothing left to fight for, and that I think the only living people are those who fight. (_She looks at him and smiles._)—I would have been a good wife for a poor man, Gail. I was a good daughter to a poor man once. GAIL Dear, don’t talk to me as if I were a stranger. EVE I’ve been away, too— GAIL —And I’ll bet I know where. (_She looks at him curiously._)—I can always tell when you’ve been on one of your reading jags. You talk differently. You talk like a book. [_She looks away._ EVE —It’s horrible. I hardly slept at all. I simply devoured them, one after another. What makes me do it? GAIL Oh, you just get lonely, that’s all. I don’t see that it’s a very harmful vice. [_A silence. Then_: EVE —The Jessups had their baby Tuesday. GAIL Good.—What was it? [_He is very sleepy now. There is sleep in his voice._ EVE A girl. A very small one. (_She looks away again._)—_I_ should have a strapping boy, with a broad, high forehead and a mass of curly hair. That’s the kind of baby _I_ should have— GAIL —Will have, some day. EVE When? GAIL You never can tell. Soon, maybe. EVE I hope it will be soon. (_There is a silence._ GAIL _is breathing with the regularity of impending sleep_.)—Because I’m getting scared, Gail. GAIL What’s that? (_He half-rouses himself, and sinks back again._)—There’s no cause to be. No cause at all. EVE We’ve been married almost six years, now. GAIL That’s nothing. Lots of people wait a dozen. EVE I’m tired of waiting. (_Another silence._)—I’m really frightened now, Gail. [_She seats herself near him._ GAIL —Foolish to be. EVE But I’m—I was an only child, you know. So was my mother. Maybe there’s something wrong with me. GAIL (_from far away_) Don’t you believe it. EVE —Maybe I ought to find out if there is—but I dread to know it. (_Another silence._)—I can’t sleep for thinking of it. I don’t know why I shouldn’t have one. I’m quite strong. I’ve never had anything really the matter with me.—And I love children, I do love them. If loving children made you have them, I’d have a houseful.—And besides, I would so love the actual having of one. I shouldn’t mind any kind of pain at all. I’d welcome it. I’d know then that I was living—making—and not slowly dying, a little more each day like this. (_Again_ GAIL’S _chin has sunk upon his breast_. EVE’S _eyes are straight ahead, her voice low. A silence._)—They must be even sweeter when they’re all your own. There’s nothing about them I don’t like.—Even if it should be a girl—but of course it wouldn’t be, not the first one. (_Another silence. Her voice becomes lower still._)—Heaven shine on me, rain on me. Bring something out of me to hold in my arms, send me some small thing to care for. I’ll love it tenderly. Only I shall look after it, ever. I shall become wise. I shall know what is good for him. I shall find out everything there is to know. Don’t keep me empty this way any longer. I have room. I’m strong. I’m well. (_A longer silence. Then_:)—Listen to me, Gail: I’m speaking honestly: I must have a child, or in a while I shan’t be good for anything at all. Help me to life, Gail. Hold fast to it with your strong hands and bring me to it—(_Blindly, she reaches her hand out to him. He does not take it. Slowly, she turns and looks at him. He is asleep. A silence. She drops her hand lifelessly into her lap. Then she speaks in another voice._) Gail—(_And again_:)—Gail. [_He raises his head slowly, then opens his eyes and looks at her, dully. At last he laughs, and rises from the sofa._ GAIL Lord! I guess I must have dropped right off— EVE Yes. GAIL What time is it, anyhow? (_He turns and looks at the clock._) Ouch!—Work tomorrow, darling. EVE Yes. GAIL What is it you were saying?—I’m still in a fog. EVE It will keep. [_She rises._ GAIL Oh yes!—Now look here, Eve: don’t you worry about that another bit. EVE All right, Gail. GAIL —Because worrying doesn’t help, and I’m perfectly sure that sooner or later, if we’re only patient, we’ll— EVE It’s all right, Gail. [_He moves toward the doorway._ GAIL —Just a matter of a little patience, that’s all—(_He stops and turns._) Oh—the lights— EVE You go ahead. I’ll put them out. [_He precedes her into the hall, and mounts the stairs. She puts out the lamps, then goes into the hall and turns out the light there. A faint glow lights her way up the stairs from above. Then it, too, goes out and the darkness is complete._ ACT ONE SCENE II _About five o’clock the following afternoon. It has been a gray day, with a light rain falling since early morning. The living-room is not bright. There are fresh flowers in the vases. A murmur of voices is heard from the hall, then_ NICHOLAS HAY’S _voice, very clearly_: HAY —Yes. Until tomorrow, then.—Ten o’clock, yes. No, no need to send for me. I’ll find it. Thank you. Thank you very much. [_And a door closes. A moment, then_ ELLA, _a housemaid of about thirty-five, in a gray dress, comes in from the hall. She carries a suit-case and a small traveling-bag._ NICHOLAS HAY _and_ SAMUEL GILLESPIE _follow her in_. GILLESPIE _carries two large suit-cases and a brief-case_. HAY _is thirty-four, fine-looking, strong-looking_. GILLESPIE _is a year or two younger, small, slight and unsmiling_. ELLA Your room is through there—(_She indicates the open library-door._)—but you can wait here until Mrs. Redman comes in. She won’t be long. [_She goes out into the library_, GILLESPIE _following with the bags_. HAY _looks about him, takes a deep breath, and seats himself_. GILLESPIE _re-enters_. GILLESPIE (_lowly_) —It’s not my fault, Sir. HAY I know. [ELLA _re-enters and moves toward the hall_. ELLA —She’ll be back. She just stepped into the garden to cut some flowers. (_To_ GILLESPIE.) Were you expected, too? [GILLESPIE _shrugs. She regards him suspiciously for a moment._ HAY Mr. Gillespie is my secretary. ELLA Well, she’ll be right in. [_And she goes out._ GILLESPIE —I had rooms at the hotel. I didn’t count on a surprise-party. HAY Oh, it’s shocking to be in shape like this. GILLESPIE A ten-months’ lecture-tour’s no picnic. HAY I know, but I shouldn’t go to pieces this way. GILLESPIE President What’s-his-name—Adee—pointed out the hotel as we came by. It looked pretty bad. HAY At any rate I’d have been alone there. I’ve lost the gift of talking to people, if I ever had it. I can still lecture, but I can’t talk.—Get me out of it, Gillespie. GILLESPIE Maybe we can work something. HAY Lord, how I hate money. God, how I hate the need of it. How was it I didn’t save some, in eight years of General Practice? GILLESPIE You didn’t have me, then. HAY —That day I sat there realizing there aren’t half a dozen drugs you can count on in the whole pharmacopœia, realizing what a great hoax the whole thing really is, that all I cared for in this world is human emotion and the whys and wherefores—. Lord, Gillespie, was I crazy? GILLESPIE I don’t think so. HAY Of course, why you want to come along abroad with me, I still can’t figure out. GILLESPIE I look at it like a Polar expedition. HAY It will probably take as long as one— GILLESPIE —All right with me. HAY —And what will I have to show for it?—Another theory—! No, by heaven—_not_ just another theory! Look here—if I can only so much as settle what the endocrine glands have to do with it— GILLESPIE —Sure.—Why worry, Sir? HAY I doubt if I will, once I’ve got going.—But until I do—well, look at this house, will you? Gloom—gloom— GILLESPIE “Effect of places upon persons.” HAY Oh, be still. GILLESPIE Anyhow, it’s been raining. HAY I wonder what they’re like. GILLESPIE They may be a nice old couple who go to bed right after dinner. (_He reflects._)—And of course, they may be perfect bastards. HAY There ought to be some way of getting out gracefully.—I feel like a swine, but all I want is a hotel room, and to be left alone. GILLESPIE We’ll fix it somehow. HAY Of course we’ll have to stay a day or two, but—(_A moment. He reflects. Then_:) Look here: I think if it’s arranged straight off—this afternoon—it will be all right. You find a chance to say “Oh—Doctor Hay—about Monday—” and I’ll tell them as graciously as I can that I’ve had to make a rule never to stay more than a day or so in a private house—that I—that I cannot take my responsibilities as a guest lightly enough to give my work the attention it demands.—Does it sound too pompous for words? GILLESPIE No. It sounds pretty good. HAY I think if I can get it understood in the beginning, they won’t be—I don’t want to offend them. GILLESPIE Right: “Oh—Doctor Hay—about Monday—” HAY Lord, I’m stale. What am I to tell them here for twenty lectures? GILLESPIE Why not use the old stuff? It’ll be new to them. HAY No. The only way a decent man can possibly do hack-work is to keep on growing as he does it. (_He leans back and closes his eyes for a moment._)—Oh, but to be on that boat this minute, eh? GILLESPIE —Not long now, Sir. HAY Perhaps we ought to go third-class instead of second, and save the difference to live on. We’ll talk about that. GILLESPIE What about lining up a publisher in New York before we sail? [HAY _stares_. HAY You don’t imagine anyone’s going to want to _buy_ the thing! GILLESPIE You never can tell. HAY You’d better go back to the hospital and finish your training. GILLESPIE Not me, Sir. HAY Then quit thinking about money and medals. There won’t be any. The only recognition I want is—oh, if I weren’t so stale. The whole world’s stale. (_A moment. Then suddenly he leans forward, his eyes agleam._)—If I didn’t realize that I’ve got hold of something that’s going to change the whole system of education, of literature and art as well—if I didn’t believe that the future of my findings may be the future of the human race— GILLESPIE What would you do, Sir? Go fishing? [HAY _stares at him a moment, then again relaxes_. HAY —That’s just what I’d do. GILLESPIE Here—have a cigarette. [_He gives him one and is lighting it for him, when_ EVE _hurries in from the hall. She is wearing a hat and a light raincoat, both wet with rain. Not yet seeing them, she calls over her shoulder into the hall._ EVE Ella?—Oh, Ella!—Will you come here a moment? (_She advances into the living-room._ HAY _and_ GILLESPIE _have risen_. EVE _stops abruptly as she sees them_.)—Oh. HAY How do you do? [_A moment. She looks from_ GILLESPIE _to him, uncertainly_. EVE —Doctor Hay? HAY Yes. [EVE _gives him her hand_. EVE How do you do? HAY —My secretary, Mr. Gillespie. EVE How do you do? (GILLESPIE _bows silently. She turns again to_ HAY.) Have you been here long? HAY Just a few moments. The maid said your mother would be in directly. She said that she was in the— [_Suddenly he stops and stares at her. Then he laughs. She laughs, too._ GILLESPIE _looks from one to the other without a smile_. EVE —I thought you’d be much older, too. [ELLA _comes into the hall doorway_. ELLA Yes, Mrs. Redman? EVE Mr. Gillespie will have the room at the top of the stairs. Will you see that it’s ready for him?—(ELLA _mounts the stairs_. EVE _turns again to_ HAY.) Your room is next to the library, which I’ve cleared out a bit, to make a study for you. HAY Thank you. I’m sorry you’ve been put to any trouble. [EVE _smiles_. EVE It was a golden opportunity for me. There was an inkstand made of an elephant’s foot. HAY You’re too kind, really. EVE It’s you who are kind, to come. (_To_ GILLESPIE.)—They said your train would be an hour late. [GILLESPIE _clears his throat. Then_: GILLESPIE We made up time. (_To_ HAY.)—Shall I see to the bags? HAY Will you? [GILLESPIE _goes out into the library_. EVE _seats herself_. EVE Your room is away from the rest, so you’ll be able to come and go as you like. There’s just my husband and me. It’s not precisely a cheerful house, but the sun comes in everywhere, when there is sun. HAY It’s a pretty town. EVE The country is flat. Plains, and more plains. There should have been a hill or two.—But I’m afraid it’s too late to do anything about it. [HAY _laughs_. HAY Oh, I don’t know! EVE Can you make mountains out of mole-hills? HAY It’s part of my profession to. EVE Do your first one under the College, please. I’ve always thought it should stand upon a hill. HAY —“Redman” it’s called—is it named for your husband? EVE —For his grandfather. He built it. It was his one tame oat, sowed very late. I hope you’ll like it. I do.—I’m going to your lectures. HAY That isn’t fair. EVE I shall sit very still. HAY —And sleep peacefully. EVE Oh no! I shall be all ears. And when you say “Are there any questions?”—Do you say “Are there any questions?” HAY I’m afraid I do. EVE Well, I shall ask the most stupid ones you have ever heard. HAY I doubt that. EVE You will see. You’ve probably never met a more uneducated person.—It was nice of you, thinking I was my daughter. Tell me what you expected. HAY Tell me what you did? EVE —For some ridiculous reason—though I know no one has them anymore— [HAY _indicates a beard. His gesture says “Was that it?” She nods. He laughs._ HAY No—I can never rise to that! EVE —And what was I? HAY —Quite large—a little flushed, and slightly out of breath. And I believe you sang, when urged. [EVE _laughs_. EVE —I think we’re quits, don’t you? HAY So soon? EVE I mean as far as preconceptions go. HAY Oh—preconceptions— [_They look at each other, smiling. The silence becomes a little too long, and_ EVE _goes on, hastily_: EVE —Perhaps I ought to warn you: it’s a—ours is pretty much of a haphazard household. It more or less runs itself. My father hated punctuality, so I fell into bad ways early. You’ll ring for breakfast when you want it, won’t you?—And at any other meal-time that you don’t feel quite like sitting down in a stiff chair—they _are_ so stiff—you can have a tray. We’ll understand. Heavens! How well _I’ll_ understand! (_She rubs the small of her back reminiscently, then rises and looks in surprise at her hand._) Why, I’m wet. I’m soaking wet. (_He is watching her, fascinated. She laughs, slips off the raincoat, and stands forth in a bright summer dress._) I hope the state I’m in is what they call “a pretty confusion.” Otherwise— HAY You’re lovely. EVE (_startled_) What? HAY I say you are lovely. [_A moment. Then_: EVE —But how nice of you to think that. Thank you. [ELLA _has come down the stairs into the doorway again_. ELLA The room is all right, Ma’am. [_She turns to go._ EVE Just a moment—(_To_ HAY.)—You must be worn out from your trip. Wouldn’t you like some tea, or something? HAY Why—er— [_She smiles._ EVE —Or something? HAY Why, thanks. Thanks.—As a matter of fact I would. EVE (_to_ ELLA) Tell Jane to bring the whisky. (ELLA _goes_. EVE _turns to follow_.) Now I must—(_But she hesitates, and turns again to_ HAY.)—I had a speech to say to you. What was it? HAY Tell me. EVE Oh yes! (_Then, solemnly_:) “We are very honored and very happy to have you here, Doctor Hay, and sincerely trust that your stay with us will be as—will be as—” (_She stops and throws out her hands._)—I remember the words, but I forget the gestures. HAY —Miss Redman will please see me after class. [EVE _laughs_. EVE —You’re not a bit old, really. How is it you know so much? HAY I don’t know anything. [EVE _looks at him intently_. EVE I have an idea that you know many obscure things well, and that that is why you have such grace about the plain things. [_A brief silence. Then_: HAY (_suddenly_) Who on earth are you, anyway? EVE I—? Why, I—(_She laughs uncertainly._) Who do you think I am? HAY I should like to know. EVE It should not be difficult. (GILLESPIE _re-enters from the library_.)—You see, _I_ am one of the plain things. (_A door closes in the hall. She turns and listens a moment, then calls_:) Gail? [GAIL’S _voice responds_. GAIL Hello, dear! EVE We’re in here—come in! (_Then, to_ HAY.)—Here is a fine, good man. You will like this man. (GAIL _enters_.) Hello, darling.—This is Doctor Hay—somehow not quite as we imagined him. [GAIL _laughs_. GAIL No. (_He shakes hands with_ HAY.) How do you do, Sir? HAY How do you do.—It’s extremely nice of you and— GAIL —Not at all. It’s a feather in our caps to have you, isn’t it, Eve? EVE —A bright one.—And Mr. Gillespie, Gail. [GAIL _turns, puzzled, not yet having seen_ GILLESPIE. GAIL Mr.—? (_He goes to_ GILLESPIE _and shakes his hand_.) Oh yes—yes, of course! (GILLESPIE _bows, without a word_. GAIL _turns again to_ HAY.) I hope Eve’s made you comfortable. HAY Perfectly, thanks. GAIL Trust her! (_He looks at his hands._)—I’ll have to go and wash these. No one else will do it. (_To_ EVE.) Darling—I should so like a drink. EVE I’ve ordered one for Doctor Hay. GAIL Good! (_To_ HAY.)—You won’t mind if I have one with you? HAY Mind? I should be delighted. [GAIL _and_ EVE _move toward the hall_. GILLESPIE Oh—er—(GAIL _and_ EVE _stop_.)—Doctor Hay— [HAY _turns to him_. HAY Yes? GILLESPIE —About Monday— [_Their eyes meet._ HAY Monday? [_A brief silence. Then_ GILLESPIE _murmurs_: GILLESPIE —Speak to you about it later. [JANE, _another housemaid, somewhat younger than_ ELLA, _enters with a tray containing a decanter of whisky, soda, glasses and ice. She deposits it upon a table and goes out._ EVE —Till dinner, then. And ask for anything you want. HAY There won’t be anything. [EVE _slips her arm through_ GAIL’S _and goes out with him. Then, as they mount the stairs_: GAIL What have you been doing, darling? Anything exciting?—It’s been a foul day, hasn’t it?—Now tell me the lawn needed it. I know it did. I take it all back. It’s been a beautiful day for lawns. For lawns and angleworms and robins it’s been the most superb— [_His voice fades out. Then silence._ HAY _goes to the tray and pours a drink_. GILLESPIE _lights a cigarette, and watches_ HAY’S _back, quizzically, without a word_. HAY _drops ice into his glass. Then, without turning_: HAY Shut up, Gillespie. [_The stage is darkened._ ACT ONE SCENE III _Three weeks later. About twelve o’clock. A bright Sunday morning. The French windows are open wide, and the living-room is full of sunlight. The library door is also open._ GILLESPIE, _coatless, is sitting face forward, staring into space and whistling aimlessly through his teeth. A shaft of sunlight from the further window is full upon his head. He turns, scowls at the window, then goes and closes it._ HAY’S _voice is heard from the library_: HAY Who’s that? You? GILLESPIE I think so.—Are you up? (HAY _comes in. He carries severed pencil-written pages._)—I was just thinking about calling you. HAY I’ve been awake. I’ve been working on this in bed. It’s Number Twelve—Tuesday’s. [_He gives him the pages._ GILLESPIE Finished? HAY I hope so. GILLESPIE —Speed. HAY The hot weather agrees with me. GILLESPIE It’s hot all right. HAY I think I’ll use all new material for the others, too. I’m tired of trying to make those old weak cases sound convincing. They wouldn’t convince me. [GILLESPIE _scans the pages_. GILLESPIE It looks good. HAY How do you think the Philosophy Department is going to feel about being referred to as good-natured lunatics? GILLESPIE Anyone who wouldn’t rather be a lunatic than a mental defective must be crazy. [HAY _laughs_. HAY —No sign of either of our hosts yet? GILLESPIE I think the husband is with his four-footed friends. HAY How do you mean “the husband”? GILLESPIE I mean Mr. Redman. HAY Then please say what you mean. GILLESPIE Right.—And I guess the wife has gone to Church. HAY Oh, does _Mrs. Redman_ go to church? GILLESPIE She has the last two Sundays.—Say, look: do I have to eat lunch here? I’ve found good beer down Railroad Street. HAY I think the plan is to take a picnic up the river. GILLESPIE Is there a river? HAY All right: I’ll tell them. GILLESPIE I had a wire from the French Line. HAY Oh? GILLESPIE She sails a week from Friday. Midnight. HAY Good. GILLESPIE It seems the news of the stir you’re causing here has struck New York. HAY How’s that? GILLESPIE The wire said you’d be accorded first-class privileges. HAY Really? (_He laughs shortly._) What a funny country! GILLESPIE —It’s a funny country in the way it forgets, too. It may forget a lot in the two years you’re abroad. HAY The quicker these lectures are in limbo, the better I shall like it. GILLESPIE We could double the rates and line up a pretty grand tour for next season without much trouble, now. HAY I’ve made my plans. Two years is a short time for all I’ve got to learn. GILLESPIE Right—I just thought.—Then I suppose the night train Wednesday week’s the one to shoot for. HAY Thursday will be time enough. I love it in this little town. GILLESPIE So? HAY I like the people here. The people here are different. GILLESPIE So? HAY They have such fresh, free, open minds. They’re so fine and simple. (_A silence. He thinks. Then_:)—Gillespie, what am I to do for a woman like Mrs. Redman? I mean, to repay her— GILLESPIE She won’t want repaying. HAY I know, but when I came here three weeks ago I was in pieces. I wondered when they’d come to sweep me up. GILLESPIE It wasn’t that bad. HAY It was bad enough.—But just to have been in the same house with her, to have heard that quiet voice, never insisting, never insisting anything. To have walked with her over that lovely lawn, through those lovely meadows— GILLESPIE I know.—A very pleasant set-up, on the whole. HAY It’s made a new man of me, that’s all. GILLESPIE I haven’t heard you singing in your bath, yet. [HAY _laughs_. HAY —A man, I said.—I leave that happy practice to boys like Redman. GILLESPIE I think his voice is changing. HAY Still, they seem to be pretty well suited to each other, don’t they? GILLESPIE Well enough, I guess. HAY He’s a fine, good fellow. It seems a fine life for her. Yet underneath one feels some kind of lack, some kind of longing. I can’t make out what it is she wants. There’s never a complaint, of course—not she! She wears her rue with a difference. GILLESPIE —Got awfully small bones, hasn’t she? HAY What’s that got to do with it? [GILLESPIE _does not reply. He begins to sketch with a pencil upon the back of_ HAY’S _lecture-notes_. HAY —It’s queer about her: we’ve talked for hours on end, and still I don’t feel I know her one bit better than the day I came. GILLESPIE No? HAY Maybe I’m not quite the bright fellow I thought I was. GILLESPIE Or maybe it’s all there is to know. HAY Don’t you believe it. GILLESPIE —Reads a lot, doesn’t she? HAY —Book after book. Why? [GILLESPIE _shrugs_. GILLESPIE Don’t ask me. HAY That’s what you always say when you think you know something. (_Another silent shrug._) What?—Some sort of a creative impulse gone wrong? (_He rises abruptly._)—An artist without an art—is that it? GILLESPIE —Or a woman without love. HAY There’s her husband, isn’t there? GILLESPIE I mean love. HAY It’s not that simple. But it’s something—and if I can’t dig it out, I’m not much on—But I’m _going_ to dig it out. I’ll tell you by evening what it is. I’ll—(GILLESPIE _cocks his head admiringly at the sketch_.)—What’s that? GILLESPIE A cenator— HAY A what? GILLESPIE —A cenator. Half man, half horse. [HAY _laughs_. HAY Gillespie, you’re a joy to me. I believe I’ll have you stuffed. [EVE _comes in from the hall, in a light summer dress and hat_. EVE Good morning. HAY Did you pray for us? [EVE _laughs_. EVE I lost my list.—Hot, isn’t it? [GILLESPIE _gathers up his papers and silently goes out_. HAY It is, a little. EVE It will be cooler up the river. HAY Good. EVE I left Gail talking horses to a man. We’ll be ready to go as soon as he gets back. [_A moment._ HAY _gazes at her_. HAY Do you like Church? EVE Sometimes. HAY Can you be really serious about it? [EVE _seats herself_. EVE Sometimes. I couldn’t be this morning. During the sermon I kept thinking about a funeral-service I heard of once. Two clergymen had been engaged for it by mistake.—One was just beginning: “I am the Resurrection and the Light—” when the other rushed in, shouting: “I beg your pardon! _I_ am the Resurrection and the Light!”—But yesterday’s lecture I took very seriously. HAY You shouldn’t have. [_She leans forward attentively, chin on hand._ EVE I didn’t. (_He looks at her. She laughs._) But it’s a fine, bright morning all the same. (_She rises and goes to the window and looks out._) Yes, it will stay fine all day long. There’s only a little wind in that cloud—wind, and no rain. [_A moment. Then she turns._ HAY —Don’t stir. (_Another moment._)—I want this picture of you. I want to take the print of it as deeply as I can. EVE What for? HAY For afterwards. EVE I feel like laughing. HAY Then do. EVE —Now I don’t. It’s over.—I think that I shall miss you a great deal, afterwards. HAY —And I you. [_They stand looking at each other silently. Then_ EVE _gestures_. EVE Now may I? (_He nods. She seats herself._) Where did you come from—far? HAY You mean originally? EVE Yes. HAY Montreal. EVE And you’ve always worked hard, so hard— HAY I haven’t minded it. EVE —Always something to fight. HAY There’s always been that, all right. EVE —Was it a happy childhood you had? HAY We won’t talk about it, if you don’t mind. EVE I’m sorry. That should never be. HAY I suppose not. Still—(_Then suddenly._) See here! Am I finding out about you, or you about me? EVE What would you like to know? [_A moment. Then_: HAY Nothing. Nothing at all. EVE —Anyhow, let me hear of you now and then, on your way up the mountain. HAY The mountain? EVE Haven’t you one in view? HAY And what have you? EVE You’ll see this morning: a river. HAY It sounds alarming. [EVE _smiles_. EVE It’s not that kind of river. It’s a very placid river with a pleasant name: the Willing. HAY How do I happen to have missed it? EVE I meant that you should, until I showed it to you. Father and I had a small house on it, when first he came here to teach at Redman. HAY —A professor’s daughter, is it— EVE Professor of Romance Languages— [HAY _smiles_. HAY I think you learned a great deal from him. EVE —All I know.—As knowledge, it’s not very practical.—He was a dear man—always rather frail. He took quite a lot of looking after, which I loved doing— HAY I’m sure you did. EVE —The river meant very much to me. It still means very much. It’s why I married Gail, I think—it’s so like him. In summer I swim down it. Perhaps we shall swim today. In winter I skate up it all the way to O’Fallon’s Falls—though of course I never dare quite go there— HAY Why not? [_She rises._ EVE Well, if I did—I’d have done it!—You see? It’s something to skate up the Willing all the way from Redmanton to O’Fallon’s Falls.—But I’m a very good skater. You should see me do an inside edge.—Fresh, new black ice, ready to be written on. Oh, it’s the finest sort of river! You’ll see!—Of course, after this morning I shan’t be able to go there for awhile, so— HAY —Not able? What’s to prevent you? [_She smiles, and lays her finger to her lips._ EVE Sh!—The laurel. There’s a bank covered with it. It’s ready to bloom, now. It blooms for twenty days. [HAY _frowns_. HAY I’m even stupider than I supposed. Does laurel—? [_She laughs._ EVE —Give me hay-fever? No.—It’s just an idea of mine.—When I was fifteen, my first summer here, there was one very bright night, and I went walking by myself. All at once I came upon the bank of laurel. It was—I can’t tell you. I’ve never known beauty like it, before or since.—I think it was the first time I ever felt myself alive. But when I could, I ran from it. I haven’t been back there since—not at that time of year. [_He is watching her intently. She reseats herself._ HAY No. Of course not. EVE You see, I shouldn’t dare. I want it as it was then. It may have changed—or I may. HAY —Or possibly it was too real for you. Possibly you are afraid it will be too real again. [_She looks at him, startled._ EVE Too—? (_And averts her head again._)—You don’t see what I mean. HAY I see precisely what you mean. (_He rises._) What are you going to do with your life here? [_She smiles._ EVE Why—very much what I’ve always done, I think. HAY That’s all you ask, is it? EVE It’s a pleasant place. I’m fond of the people here, and they of me. I should be very happy, don’t you think? HAY Some women might. Not you. EVE But I’m not unusual in any way. HAY —Except that you’re a different order of being entirely. EVE I? How— HAY How often have you made your little world here over? EVE Why—I don’t know. HAY Countless times, haven’t you?—And now there’s nothing left to work on—it’s all worn thin—won’t take the paint— [EVE _smiles_. EVE I’m not following very well, Doctor Hay. HAY Did you ever hear of an artist without an art? EVE No. What are they like? HAY Miserable, usually. Probably the most wretched people in the world. EVE I’m afraid I still don’t— HAY —Because they aren’t like other people. They must do something about life, with it, to it—or else— EVE What? HAY The sooner they die the better for them. EVE Oh. HAY There are artists outside the arts, you know—that’s where most of them are.—All I’m trying to say is that somewhere, for part of the time at least, you might find—material you can work with. EVE Where is it? HAY Do you never come East at all? EVE Never. HAY Come this winter for a month—two months— EVE What for? HAY New faces—new interests—plays—music—exhibitions.—Better than that! Come to Paris in April! EVE Do you really think places make such a difference? HAY —But tremendous things are happening there now! There’s a new music, a new literature, a new— EVE They’re not for me. HAY What _can_ one do for you? EVE Do I seem to need something so much? [_A silence. Then_: HAY Yes. EVE (_in a small voice_) That’s quite true, Nicholas. HAY But what, Eve? EVE I don’t know. HAY —One thing’s certain: you won’t go looking for it, will you? You’re quite content to stay on here forever— EVE I live here. My life is here. HAY If you can call it life.—Seeing the neighbors—filling the house with children, I suppose— EVE Would that be such a dreadful fate? [_He looks at her intently._ HAY Perhaps not. (_He rises._) Let’s see, now—the first son in just about a year.—There’s creation! There’s art for you! EVE You must not make fun of me. HAY But I’m not! I’m doing nothing of the sort! I’m simply convinced you’re what I say you are. (_She rises and moves away. He is silent a moment, watching her closely. Then he goes on._) Yes, it’s quite plain, now. I see him with your eyes, your brow and Gail’s deep chest and fine long back— EVE (_a murmur_) It would be good. HAY —He’ll be very grave and solemn for awhile, until things have grown familiar. Then he’ll laugh out loud. He’ll laugh a great deal, first sons do, you know. EVE I hope— HAY —And you’ll sing him to sleep of nights—(_He sings._) “Frèr-e Jacq-ues, Frèr-e Jacq-ues—” EVE (_continuing the song_) “Dormez-vous, dormez-vous. Sonnez les matin-es—” HAY —It’s true: I believe he might be the answer for you. EVE I should set great store by him. [HAY _advances_. HAY —Then I tell you to have one—have one quickly. I shall be happier about you, then. (_He senses an embarrassment in her, turns away again to relieve it, and continues more lightly._) Let’s see, now: we must find a name for him. “Gail” is good, but he must have one of his own. Names are important. Redman is a fine name—he must have one as fine, to go with it. “Peter”—“David”—no, those are too romantic, now. “Adam”—no, that’s affected, and there would be dismal jokes about “Eve and Adam.”—It’s a good name, though—a good, plain name. Of course it must be a plain one. (_A moment. Then, suddenly_:) I know! “Christian”! He shall be Christian Redman! EVE “Christian Redman”— HAY —And no one must call him “Chris”—or “Christy.” You must insist on that. (_She does not answer. Her head is bowed upon her breast. A moment, then he goes to her and gently turns her about, facing him. Her eyes are filled with tears._) Tell me—what is it? EVE All that you’ve said—it would be very fine. Yes—now you are the wise man I thought you. (_She moves away from him and begins to range about the room again, touching things here and there._)—Did Gail show you this medal? It was presented to his grandfather by Lincoln and his Cabinet. HAY —You must tell me, Eve— EVE —Mrs. William A. Plant herself insists upon giving a reception in your honor the night before you leave. HAY (_in appeal_) Eve— EVE —I wonder what can be keeping Gail so long. He said he wouldn’t be a moment— HAY Eve—my dear— [_She turns and meets his eyes._ EVE You see—it seems I cannot have one. [_A silence. Then_: HAY Forgive me, please. I’m sorrier than I can possibly tell you, to have spoken so. EVE It’s all right. HAY Will you let me ask you one thing? EVE Ask what you like— HAY Are you sure you’re not afraid to have one? [_She draws herself up._ EVE Afraid!—I—? HAY I don’t mean in that way. I mean for some reason that even you yourself— EVE I am not afraid for any reason on this earth. [_A moment. Then_: HAY Eve— EVE What is it? HAY —Adopt one. (_A silence. She turns away._) I beg you to do that. I know it’s right for you. You’d love it as much, I know. I believe you’d soon love anything you had to care for. EVE But Gail—things must be Gail’s own. HAY Ask him! Insist! You must have _something_— EVE Oh I know, don’t I know! HAY Do as I tell you, Eve. [GILLESPIE _comes in again with a typewritten copy of the lecture notes_. GILLESPIE (_to_ HAY) Will you go over it? HAY I think it’s all right. [GAIL _comes in excitedly from the hall_. GAIL —I’m sorry to have kept you, but that fellow’s got a hackney stallion that—oh Lord! Who says I can’t breed horses to show against those Eastern stables?—And do you know all the fool wants for him? [_He whispers “Twelve hundred dollars” loudly in_ EVE’S _ear_. EVE But isn’t that a lot? GAIL —For an animal like that? (_He appeals to_ HAY _and_ GILLESPIE.) Gentlemen— EVE (_affectionately_) There are only three things in this world my husband really loves: horses, corn soup, and me. GAIL Reverse the order, and you may be right! (_He puts his arm about her shoulder._)—Are we all ready? [HAY _moves toward the library_. HAY I’ll get my coat. [_He goes out._ GAIL _leads_ EVE _to the doorway_. GAIL Really, darling—I know I’m all kinds of a fool about other things, but I’ve got a hunch about this brute—_I_ think he’ll show better than The Hoofer. _I_ think he’s the— [_They go out._ HAY’S _voice is heard singing cheerfully to himself in his bedroom_. GILLESPIE _turns and listens in growing anxiety. Then he calls_: GILLESPIE —Shall I draw you a bath, Sir? [HAY’S _singing swells_. GILLESPIE _smiles broadly_. CURTAIN ACT TWO ACT TWO SCENE I _About half-past eleven at night, ten days later. The living-room is dimly lighted, but the French windows are open upon the porch, where there is bright moonlight. Down Left there is a small table set with four places, wine glasses, a plate of sandwiches, a bowl of fruit, a jar of cheese, and two candle-lamps, the candles enclosed in tall glass shades._ HAY, _in a dinner-coat and soft white shirt comes from the rear of the room to the table, where he lights the candles, and stands looking down at them, frowning. A moment, then_ ELLA, _in a black dress and white apron, comes in from the hall with a bottle of white wine and a rack of toast, which she places upon the table_. ELLA Will you want your breakfast at the same time, Sir? HAY —What’s that? Oh yes—yes, thank you. [ELLA _busies herself arranging the table_. GILLESPIE, _also in a dinner-coat, comes in from the library, traverses the living-room to the hall, from which he returns with a brief-case_. GILLESPIE What time shall I call you? HAY It’s all right. I’ll wake up. GILLESPIE It leaves at eight forty-five, you know. HAY I know. [GILLESPIE _gathers up several books from the tables_. EVE _comes in from the hall, in a white evening-dress_. EVE That was Gail telephoning. He had to wait over. HAY Oh? EVE But he’s going to take the midnight train down. He said to tell you he’d see you at breakfast, surely. HAY Good. [ELLA _moves toward the hall_. EVE Thank you, Ella. It looks lovely. ELLA Thank _you_, Ma’am. [_She goes out._ HAY _puts two chairs at the table_. HAY Bring a chair, Gillespie. GILLESPIE Not me. I ate Mrs. William A. Plant’s chicken-salad, and drank her cocoa. [HAY _laughs_. HAY I was wiser. EVE I think you behaved beautifully, both of you. GILLESPIE Why’s she called “Mrs. William _A._ Plant”? Is there another Mrs. Plant? A Mrs. William H.? Or Willy K.—? EVE Not that I know of. GILLESPIE (_thoughtfully_) —And still always Mrs. William A. Plant. H’m—Oh well, why not? [_He goes out again into the library, with the brief-case._ EVE _seats herself at the table_. EVE Gail is sorry to miss your farewell supper. HAY I’m sorry, too. (_He seats himself, facing her, pours the wine and raises his glass._) To my host.—And to my hostess, who has cared for me with all this care. [EVE _raises her glass to him_. EVE To our most welcome guest. [_They drink._ HAY _puts down his glass and stares at her_. HAY It tastes of sun and rain and earth. [EVE _stares at hers_. EVE —Good things to taste of. HAY Fine things to taste of. EVE The only good things. Sun— HAY Rain— EVE —Earth. HAY Eve— [_She looks up._ EVE Nicholas—? HAY Why did you run away? EVE I hadn’t seen my Aunt in such a long time— HAY My last three days here— EVE Well, you see, Gail had to be away and— HAY He thought— EVE No. It was my idea. HAY Why did you go, Eve? EVE Why, it simply seemed to me that it was as good a time as any other, and— HAY Tell me the truth. EVE I’m trying to. It seemed to me— HAY —You had to run again, from what was real. EVE Real—? HAY Is the laurel in bloom, Eve? EVE (_faltering_) I don’t understand you. HAY Oh my dear—admit it! [_A moment. Then she speaks quietly_: EVE I must ask you not to do this. I don’t like to be questioned so. [HAY _rises abruptly and moves away_. HAY I beg your pardon. [EVE _looks after him. A silence. Then_: EVE Nicholas—please—(_He does not reply._)—Please come back, Nicholas. This is your last night with us. Please let me remember it as I would. (_He returns slowly._) I have been at such pains about this little supper— HAY —That there should be just enough of everything? EVE (_smiling_) —That there should be just enough. [_She indicates his chair. For a moment they sit in silence, gazing at the table._ HAY I’m not hungry for this. EVE I know.—Nor I. (_Another silence. Then_:) You haven’t told me your address. HAY Lloyd’s Bank, Geneva. EVE —Lloyd’s Bank, Geneva. HAY Shall I write it down? EVE No. I have a memory. HAY Have you? For what? EVE Nicholas, don’t turn every small thing I say back to me, to be said again. HAY Then talk to me honestly in the little time we’ve left. Say what you— [GILLESPIE _comes in from the library_. GILLESPIE Everything’s in, Sir. HAY Good. GILLESPIE Good night, Mrs. Redman. EVE You won’t change your mind? GILLESPIE No thanks.—Not fair to Mrs. William—_Plant_. [_He goes to the hall, and out. There is a brief silence._ EVE —You’ll be sorry to hear it’s as I thought: Gail doesn’t want to adopt a child. HAY You must persuade him. EVE I shall keep trying. (_Her head sinks for a moment._) How I shall try! HAY I still believe in my prophecy. Let me know how it turns out. EVE Yes. (_Another brief silence. Then_:) What will you do when you come back?—Write, or teach? HAY Both, I hope. (_He stares out the window._) That moon is brighter than I ever saw one. (_This time the silence is longer. Finally he rises, goes to the French window opposite him, and closes it._) I must close this. I can’t stand it in my eyes. (_In returning he stops beside her, the spell too strong for him. His hand falls upon her shoulder. Her whole frame stiffens as from a shock, then she relaxes and for a moment rests her cheek upon his hand._)—I want to tell you something. Look at me— EVE (_a small voice_) I can hear you as I am— HAY I try to be an honorable man, Eve. EVE I think you are a great and honorable man. HAY (_suddenly bitter_) —And such a wise one, eh? EVE I think so. HAY Yes!—Didn’t I tell three hundred people only Wednesday precisely what love is made of? (_He throws back his head and laughs._) Oh God, oh God! EVE Don’t, Nicholas. [_He reaches blindly for her hand, lifts it to his lips and kisses it._ HAY I’m afraid I haven’t much use for what they call common decency—but listen to me— EVE I know all you have to say. I know it without your telling me. HAY Oh my dear—if only you hadn’t left me! EVE Yes: it was a mistake. I see that now. HAY I might have managed. EVE We shall still manage. HAY The first day I didn’t know what had hit me. Then— EVE Hush—. Don’t think, even— HAY But it will be two years—at least two years. EVE Two? It will be ten. HAY No, no! EVE —Yes. I am a prophet, too. HAY Eve— EVE Go where you were before—(_She indicates his chair._)—I like you there beyond the candles—(_He resumes his chair, stares at the candles._) Let them stand for us—(_She indicates the one near him._) You—(_And touches the shade of the other. It makes a ringing sound._)—And me. HAY They seem not to be melting any. EVE They are a special kind I have. They last forever. HAY All that you have and are, is of that special kind. [_A silence. Then_: EVE Nicholas— HAY Eve— [_She holds her hand out to him, palm upward across the table._ EVE Take my hand in yours— [_He takes it in his, gazes at it._ HAY It’s so small. EVE It holds my heart’s thanks. HAY (_in pain_) —For what? What for? [_A moment._ EVE —For giving me, for a little while, the illusion of being alive. [HAY’S _bitterness returns_. HAY Illusion—you’re right there! That’s all you’ve had. That’s all you’re ever likely to. EVE It may be that I ask less than other people. (_She rises, he with her, her hand still in his._) Good-night, Nicholas. (_He draws her to him, takes her shoulders in his hands and stands gazing into her eyes. Finally she smiles and speaks_:)—Yes, yes. Of course.—With my whole heart. You must know that. HAY But what are we to do? EVE What is there to, but to remember— HAY We need more. EVE No. We have it truly now, forever as it is. HAY You think that it might change— EVE Things change. HAY Come with me, Eve— EVE No. That I can’t. HAY I want you. You want me. EVE Still, I cannot. HAY You love him, too— EVE Yes, I love Gail. HAY But this has nothing to do with him! EVE —My love for you has not. My going with you would. [_A moment._ HAY —It’s hail and farewell for us, then, is it—(_Her head lowers. He waits a moment. Then_:)—If ever you send for me—whenever—whatever your reason, I shall come. Remember that. EVE I shall remember. HAY —But when you do, you’ll be ready to go with me. Remember that, as well. EVE (_in a lower voice_) I shall remember. HAY Oh Eve—this is cowardly. We want each other. We must have each other. [_She turns away._ EVE No, no— HAY But we must! It’s the only real thing in this world, Eve! [_She shakes her head._ EVE Not for me.—So fare you well, Nicholas. Till the morning, my dear one, when I shall tell you fare-you-well all over, with perhaps a brighter face. HAY (_not knowing what_) —Oh, something to take with me! _Something_ real— [_She looks at him for a moment, then moves to his arms and lifts her face to his. They kiss. She strains against him, then buries her face in her hands, upon his breast._ EVE It’s true. It’s the same sense that the laurel gave me. (_She leaves his arms._) I can’t stand it. Be sad for me. HAY (_wiser—aware that it is too late for them now_) For us both, now. Now I am in your heart. I shall remain there. You will have no peace—nor I. EVE I have no peace anyway— [_She turns and moves toward the doorway._ HAY (_deferring to her_) Look, then—(_She stops and turns. He takes up one of the candle-lamps._)—You—and me— [_Reluctantly, he raises it to extinguish it, but she cries_: EVE No! (_Comes to him swiftly, takes it from him and replaces it upon the table._) Oh—how could you! HAY Eve—my darling— [_A brief silence. Then she looks up at him and murmurs_: EVE —Yes. (_She moves to the French windows and opens them to the moonlight. Then she tarns and holds out her hand to him._) Come—I should like you to see the laurel. I think there is nothing will ever change it. [_He goes to her and takes the hand outstretched to him. She leads him through the windows, across the porch. The stage is darkened, except for the two candles, which still burn._ ACT TWO SCENE II _About eight-thirty the following morning. The French windows are closed. It is a bright day outside, but the sunlight now proceeds from the dining-room through the hall, where, at the entrance to the living-room, one shaft completes itself._ ELLA _and_ JANE, _in gray dresses with white aprons, are clearing the supper-table._ JANE _carries out the candle-lamps, still burning lowly, and returns_. ELLA (_with real feeling_) I hate trays. JANE Why? ELLA I don’t know. I just always have. (_She places the tray upon a chair and together they move the supper-table into a corner. Then_ ELLA _returns to the tray and offers it to_ JANE.) Here—take it. [JANE _moves with it to the hall doorway, where she meets_ GAIL, _his napkin in his hand_. GAIL I’ll have another egg, Jane. JANE Yes, Sir. GAIL —And Mrs. Redman will be down a little later. (JANE _goes out_. GAIL _turns to_ ELLA.) Did Doctor Hay say where he was going? ELLA —He just said a little walk—it was such a lovely morning. GAIL Has he had his breakfast? ELLA I gave him a cup of coffee in his room at seven, Sir. [_She arranges the curtains at the French windows._ GAIL He hasn’t got too much time. ELLA He said he’d be back all right. GAIL What direction did he go in, do you know? ELLA Toward the river, I think. GAIL Well, he’d better hustle along— [_He returns to the dining-room._ GILLESPIE _comes down the stairs with a traveling-bag and a portable typewriter, which he leaves in the hall, and enters the living-room_. GILLESPIE (_to_ ELLA) How long did he say he’d be gone? ELLA Just a few minutes, he said. [_She goes out._ JANE _passes through the hall toward the front door. The grandfathers clock strikes the half-hour._ GILLESPIE _wheels about and stares at it_. GILLESPIE —And the boat sails Friday. (_He compares it with his watch and is moving toward the library as_ HAY _comes in from the hall, followed by_ JANE, _who carries an armful of laurel-blossoms_. GILLESPIE _turns_.) Well, this is better. HAY There’s time, isn’t there? GILLESPIE We ought to leave in five minutes at the outside. HAY Is that our taxi? GILLESPIE It must be. HAY You can get the bags in. GILLESPIE Right, Sir. HAY —And you might wait in the taxi. I’ll be along. GILLESPIE Right. [_He goes into the library._ JANE _places the laurel upon a sidetable and goes out through the dining-room_. GILLESPIE _comes in from the library with two traveling-bags_. HAY Hasn’t Mrs. Redman come down yet? GILLESPIE I haven’t seen her, Sir. [_He goes out into the hall as_ GAIL _enters from the dining-room_. GAIL Well, here you are! I thought we’d lost you. HAY Hello, Redman. GAIL All set? HAY All set. GAIL The Eight forty-five, isn’t it? HAY The Eight forty-five. GAIL Not much lee-way. HAY I know. GAIL I was sorry I couldn’t get back last night. HAY So was I. Big business? [GAIL _laughs_. GAIL Well, they want it to be, but I can’t decide. (_He glances at the clock._) You won’t have much time in New York, will you? HAY Half a day. We sail at midnight tomorrow. GAIL I hope you don’t mind my not taking you to the train. HAY Heavens, no. There’s a taxi at the door. GAIL I’ve got this stupid meeting at nine, and— HAY Please don’t give it a thought. It’s all arranged. (_A klaxon sounds outside, briefly. He looks at his watch. Then_:) Is—er—is Mrs. Redman—? GAIL She said she’d made her farewells last night and knew you wouldn’t mind her not coming down. HAY Oh, I see— GAIL I thought Ella had told you. Sorry. HAY Not at all. It’s all right. I simply thought—Well— [GAIL _holds out his hand to him. He takes it._ GAIL Good-bye. Good-luck. HAY You have been so kind to me here. I can’t even attempt to thank you. [GAIL _laughs_. GAIL Not me—I’ve done nothing. It’s all been Eve. HAY She is a great woman. GAIL —Eve? Oh yes—you bet your life—a great girl, Eve. [GILLESPIE _comes into the hall doorway_. GILLESPIE —Sorry, Sir, but— HAY I’m coming. Get in. (GILLESPIE _goes out_. HAY _smiles, and releases his hand_.) Well— GAIL (_hesitantly_) One thing, Doctor Hay— [HAY _turns to him_. HAY Yes? GAIL —No. Never mind— HAY What is it? GAIL Look here: do you think—(_But he stops again._)—No. HAY But what is it? GAIL You’re a pretty wise fellow, they say. There’s something I’d like to ask you— HAY Do, by all means— GAIL Look here: do you think Eve is happy? [_It is a moment before_ HAY _replies_. HAY I’m not sure. But I believe she can be. [GAIL _is thoroughly embarrassed now_. GAIL (_hastily_) That’s fine, because you see I’m fairly dumb in a lot of ways, and inclined to take things for granted, I’m afraid. But Eve’s everything to me, and I’ve been sort of bothered lately about— HAY —If I were you, I should do anything and whatever she asks you out of her real feelings. GAIL (_puzzled_) Her—? HAY Mistrust her reason if you like, but trust her emotions always, and in everything. GAIL Oh yes! I see. Yes—I certainly ought to be able to do that. HAY Do, and you’ll make few mistakes. GAIL I know! Thanks— [HAY _moves toward the hall_. GAIL _follows him_. HAY _stops at the laurel-blossoms upon the table and breaks off a twig_. HAY —I came on this out walking just now. I thought that she would like it. Will you say that I gathered it for her? GAIL Why yes—of course. That’s awfully nice. She’ll be so pleased. [_Again the klaxon sounds._ HAY —I wish that I might lay it at her feet. [GAIL _laughs_. GAIL I’ll tell her! [_He follows_ HAY _into the hall and out. For a moment the room is empty. Then_ EVE _comes down the stairs and swiftly across to the French window. She opens it, looks out it. The door of the taxi is heard to close, and then_ GAIL’S _voice, “Good-bye! Good-luck!”, and_ HAY’S _and_ GILLESPIE’S _“Good-bye. Thanks! Good-bye!” A motor races and wheels begin to pass slowly over gravel._ EVE _murmurs softly_: EVE Good-bye!—Good-bye, Nicholas. Good-bye, my love. Remember— [_The sound of the wheels upon the gravel fades away. The klaxon sounds once more from the distance, as the taxi turns from the drive into the highway._ EVE _closes the window, and goes to a chair, where she sits facing forward, eyes straight ahead_. GAIL _comes in from the hall, opening a newspaper_. GAIL Oh hello, dear.—He’s gone. You just missed him. What a shame— EVE It doesn’t matter. GAIL I said you thought he wouldn’t mind.—It seems sort of strange without him, doesn’t it? EVE It does, a little. [GAIL _seats himself upon the sofa with his newspaper_. GAIL He was a queer sort, wasn’t he? Pretty good fellow, though— EVE He is a great man. [GAIL _laughs and opens his newspaper_. GAIL —It’s a mutual admiration society, all right.—He thinks you’re a great woman. EVE Did he say that? GAIL He did.—And I’m inclined to agree with him. (_He turns another page._ JANE _comes in with a large bowl of water_.)—I think he enjoyed being here, don’t you? He went off jaunty as a jockey, with a sprig of laurel in his button-hole. [EVE _sits upright_. EVE With—? JANE Where would you like this put, Ma’am? EVE (_without turning_) What is it? JANE It’s for the flowers that Doctor Hay brought. [EVE _sees them_. EVE —Just there—there on the table— [JANE _puts the bowl upon the table and goes out_. EVE _rises_. GAIL He said to tell you he’d picked it for you this morning—said something about wishing he could lay it at your feet— [EVE _goes to the table_. EVE Did he?—How sweet of him. [_She picks up a branch of laurel and looks at it._ GAIL _is deep in his newspaper_. GAIL —The trip to Terre Haute turned out about as I thought. EVE Yes? [EVE _puts the branch into the bowl of water, and takes up another. A silence. Then he puts down his paper, regards her thoughtfully for a moment, and_: GAIL Eve— EVE Yes? GAIL Listen, Eve: about—you know—about adopting. I’ve been thinking more about it. It might not be such a bad idea. EVE (_in a rush_) —Oh my dear—good! It’s good! GAIL We might look into it, anyway—see what the possibilities are— EVE Thank you, Gail. GAIL —If it worked out I’d be just as happy about it as you, you know. EVE I’m sure you would. GAIL Well—(_He takes up his paper again._)—Well bless our eyebrows if the old school’s not going to have a million-dollar stadium! EVE Really? [_More branches of laurel go into the bowl._ GAIL They need something to make them play football again, but I doubt if it’s a stadium. (_He reads further._)—North Pole won at Belmont. Twenty to one—Lord! EVE North Pole? Isn’t he— GAIL —Colonel Sampson’s, yes. Promissory Note was second. There’s a comer, all right. EVE Do you think? [_He laughs._ GAIL Darling! Question an expert? (_He reads_:) “Weather clear—track fast.” (_And folds the paper._)—I don’t know of any more exciting words than those, do you? EVE They are exciting. [GAIL _laughs_. GAIL —Unless maybe “I love you”—or something in that line. (_The clock strikes the three-quarters. He rises from the sofa._) Quarter to—I’ve got to get along.—Hay’s train’s just leaving, if he made it. EVE He made it. GAIL I told him if he didn’t, to come on back. EVE He made it. [_He goes to her and kisses her._ GAIL Well—good-bye, darling. EVE Good-bye, dear. GAIL —Call for me at five? EVE If you like. GAIL It looks like another hot one—we might drive out somewhere and cool off before dinner. EVE All right. GAIL Anyhow, it’s a date for five. EVE Yes—that’s a date. [_He goes to the doorway where he turns again and looks back at her._ GAIL Eve—(_She turns to him._)—You look so pretty, standing there with all those flowers. [_He laughs, blows her a kiss, and goes out. She is alone. She looks after him for a moment, then lifts a branch of laurel and looks at it. Slowly, with great care, she continues to arrange the laurel in the bowl. The stage is darkened._ ACT TWO SCENE III _About two months later. Early October, five in the afternoon. It is already growing dark. There are white, pink and purple asters in the vases. The library door is open._ ELLA _comes in from the hall with a tray containing a decanter of whisky, cracked ice, soda, one tall glass and a small measuring glass_. GAIL _calls from the library_: GAIL Bring it in here, Ella. I’ve got a fire here. (ELLA _takes the tray into the library. Then, as she is re-entering the living-room_:)—You might start one in there, too. Mrs. Redman’ll want one when she comes in. ELLA She’s home already, Sir. She’s in her room. GAIL Oh, yes? Resting—? ELLA I believe so. GAIL Start one anyway. The whole house is cold.—And close the door, will you please? I’ve got some letters to get off. [ELLA _closes the library door, goes to the fireplace, lights it carefully, watches it a moment, replaces the screen, lights a lamp or two and goes out, lighting the hall light as she passes through. A moment, then voices are heard upon the stairs and_ =DOCTOR WALTER BURKE= _comes down, carrying his bag and followed by_ EVE. _Her face looks a trifle white and drawn._ =DOCTOR BURKE= _is about fifty-five, short, round, bald, ruddy and genial. He stops in the doorway and squints up at the light in the hall._ BURKE —Lights already? It gets dark early, doesn’t it? EVE Too early. BURKE Chilly, too.—I always say, if you want Indian Summer, don’t wait in Indiana for it. EVE Where is your hat?—Oh, I forgot about you and hats. [_He shakes his head solemnly._ BURKE No hat. No. Bad for the hair. (_And he chuckles._)—About this time every year Mrs. Burke says “Now Walter—_this_ winter you _must_ buy an overcoat.” And I tell her not a bit of it—my first overcoat will be a wooden one. [_Again he chuckles._ EVE At least come in and get warm a moment. There’s a fire. [_She enters the living-room. He follows._ BURKE That looks good. That looks very good. (_He becomes professional._)—Those powders I’ve given you are nothing but rhubarb and soda. They may do some good, sometimes they do. There’s nothing wrong with you. You’re tired, that’s all. Take ’em when you remember to. They can’t harm you, anyway. [EVE _laughs_. EVE You’re the worst doctor I’ve ever heard of. BURKE Why not be honest? Now if you had malaria, say, or a thrombosis, I might be able to do something for you. But these little upsets are like the common cold.—Once I asked Sturgis at P. and S.—“Doctor,” I said, “what is your treatment for the common cold—?”—“Doctor,” he said, “two dozen soft linen handkerchiefs.” (_He laughs delightedly._) Well—(_And picks up his bag again._) Don’t worry, Eve. You’ll be all right. EVE Of course I shall. It’s simply tiresome. BURKE I know.—As old Judge Riggs on Cedar Street once said to me: “Doctor,” he said, “I don’t give a d. about the disease itself. It’s the g.d. symptoms of it I can’t stand.”—Let’s see your eyes—(_He turns her around to the light and looks at them._) Very pretty—very pretty indeed.—Not a sign of jaundice. EVE College starts Monday and I wanted to feel well for it. BURKE Going in for culture, are you? EVE I’m going in for facts. BURKE You’ll be all right. Watch your diet a bit. Only eat what you want to. (EVE _laughs_.)—Gail well? EVE Oh very. BURKE And the horses? EVE Perfect. BURKE He’s starting a hunt, I hear. EVE It’s got as far as a pack of hounds that bay the moon a good deal. BURKE Doesn’t he know this isn’t hunting country? EVE Apparently not. BURKE Don’t tell him. (_He shakes his bag._) It will be good for business. EVE Have you got your car? BURKE —For this distance? My dear young lady.—Good-bye. Always a pleasure to see you, sick or well. [EVE _gives him her hand_. EVE Good-bye, Doctor. Thank you. [_They move toward the doorway._ BURKE Take those pills now and then— EVE You mean the powders? BURKE Did I give you powders? (_He frowns and scratches his head._) Now why did I do that, I wonder? (_Then laughs and turns in the doorway._) And Eve— EVE Yes? BURKE Are you very busy tomorrow morning? EVE Why no. Why? BURKE You might drop into the office about ten, if you can. EVE The office?—But why? What for? [_He laughs and shakes his finger at her._ BURKE Now, now! No questions! [_He departs, chuckling. The door is heard to close after him._ EVE _waits a moment, then turns and moves to the sofa, her apprehension growing in her eyes. She stands against the sofa, staring in front of her._ ELLA _comes in again from the hall_. ELLA Will you want tea, Ma’am? EVE (_dully_) What? (_Then_:)—Oh.—No. No, thanks. ELLA —Beg pardon, but is—is anything wrong? EVE Wrong? ELLA You look so white and—you don’t look well at all, Ma’am. [EVE _laughs unsteadily_. EVE Don’t worry about me. It’s just that I haven’t been out all day. ELLA You didn’t take hardly any lunch. Jane said— EVE Perhaps I need something now. Perhaps that’s it.—You might bring me a few crackers and a glass of sherry, will you? ELLA —Straight away, Ma’am— [_She turns to go._ EVE Where is Mr. Redman? At the stables? [ELLA _goes to the library door_. ELLA I think he’s still—(_She opens the library door. The sounds of a typewriter are heard._)—Yes—he’s right here. GAIL (_from the library_) Who’s that? Is that you, Eve? [ELLA _goes out_. EVE I was just wondering where you were. GAIL I’m batting out a few letters. It won’t take long. EVE Don’t hurry. GAIL Feeling any better? EVE Oh yes. I’m all right. GAIL Good.—You really ought to see Burke, you know. (_She does not reply. She is standing rigid against the sofa, staring in front of her. He whistles a bar or two of some popular song, then goes on typing._ EVE _lowers her head, and begins to trace with her finger the fluting in the top of the sofa. Then_ GAIL _stops again_:) I’m writing a telegram to Terre Haute about taking over that Implements outfit. EVE (_without interest_) You’ve decided, then. GAIL I hope I have. (_He begins to type again, slowly._ EVE’S _breathing is becoming a little difficult. She grasps the top of the sofa more firmly, to steady herself. Again the typing stops._)—Oh—er—I’ve answered a letter I got this morning from the Indianapolis Infants’ Home. They asked more fool questions. You’d think we’d picked one out already. They practically wanted to know if my aunt’s stepmother ever had prickly-heat and was she kind to animals—(EVE _sways slightly_.) Here’s what I wrote. Listen—(_He reads_:) “My wife and I, having no children of our own, wish to legally adopt an infant of from three to six months of age, provided we can obtain a suitable infant, of unquestionably good parentage.”—That’s only fair. (EVE _begins to hum “Frère Jacques” lowly, and with difficulty makes her way to the hall doorway_.)—Then I go on to say that either party, they or us, are at liberty to reconsider the adoption within a six months’ period, and give a list of names for reference: the Adees, the Proctors—(EVE’S _humming becomes louder. She grasps at the heavy curtains to steady herself._) Say! Are you listening?—Doctor Burke, Mrs. William A. Plant, the James Russels in Indianapolis, and so on. (EVE’S _grasp upon the curtain has given way and she has slumped silently to the floor_.) Do you think that’s all right, dear? (_There is no answer. A moment._)—All right with you, Eve? (_Again no answer. He calls_:) Oh, Eve! (_Silence. He waits a moment, then goes on typing._ ELLA _comes down the hall with a glass of sherry and a few crackers upon a tray. She does not see_ EVE _until she is nearly upon her. She screams involuntarily and puts down the tray. The typing abruptly stops._) What’s that? ELLA Oh, Mr. Redman! Quick! [_She bends over_ EVE. GAIL _hurries in from the library, in boots and riding-breeches, and goes to_ EVE. GAIL Bring the whisky—(ELLA _goes to the library and returns with a small glass of whisky which she gives him_.) Go turn her bed down and call Burke. (ELLA _hurries out_. GAIL _rubs_ EVE’S _wrists, murmuring gently_:) Eve—Eve dear—it’s Gail, darling. It’s all right, dear. Poor lamb—come on, Sweet—it’s all right. Eve—Eve— [_A moment, then she lifts her hand to her head and tries to sit up._ EVE I—I— GAIL Take it easy, darling. It’s all right. Here—drink this— [_He holds the whisky to her lips._ EVE I can’t— GAIL Try—just a swallow—(_She takes a swallow._) One more—(_She takes another, then pushes it away._) That’ll fix you. That’ll do the trick. EVE How foolish. I—I must have— GAIL Lord, Angel, behave, will you? EVE I’m so sorry. GAIL (_agonized_) Shut up, will you? Do you want to break my heart? EVE Poor Gail— GAIL Poor Gail, my eye. Poor you.—Do you think you can make the stairs now? EVE Of course. GAIL Take it easy—(_He helps her to her feet._)—Doctor Burke’s coming. You’ve simply got to see him, dear. EVE I’ve seen him— GAIL You’ve—what did he say? EVE He just said—(_She stops, then turns to him._) Gail— GAIL What, Sweet—? EVE The letter about the baby—don’t send it. GAIL There now—don’t you worry about letters—(_Then, suddenly._) Eve! Why not? What _is_ this? EVE —I’ve got one of my own, Gail. GAIL (_incredulously_) You’ve—? (_Then, with enormous joy_:) Oh, Eve! _Darling!_ [_Exultantly, he draws her into his embrace. Her eyes close. She stands rigid in his arms._ CURTAIN =ACT THREE= ACT THREE SCENE I _December of this year. About two o’clock of a Sunday afternoon._ _The living-room appears to be more open—fresher, brighter. The grandfather’s clock has been removed and with it, several of the small chairs and tables. Of the original furniture left, the chairs and one small sofa have emerged from their old-fashioned linen slip-covers, and have been re-covered with a lustrous modern material. There is a comfortable sofa near the fireplace, and in one corner of the room as simple a radio-cabinet as it is possible to obtain. The lamps are different, and there are two or three vases of yellow roses._ GAIL’S _and_ EVE’S _voices are heard in an indistinct murmur from the dining-room, across the hall. Then_ GAIL’S _voice, clearly_: GAIL “Is that cricket?” he said. “No,” said I, “more like croquet.” (EVE _laughs. Their voices continue to be heard in a faint murmur. A moment. Then_ =CHRISTIAN REDMAN= _steals into the living-room from the library, in boots and riding-breeches, carrying his coat and a riding-crop. His head is swathed in bandages. He is not yet eight, a pale, sweet-faced, bright-looking child. He tiptoes toward the sofa, glancing fearfully in the direction of the dining-room, seats himself and begins to bind the buckles of his boots._ GAIL’S _voice is heard more distinctly_:)—“Just what I told my boy Christian,” I said—(CHRISTIAN _stiffens_. GAIL _goes on_:)—“You can lead a horse to water, but you can’t make him _jump_.” [GAIL’S _hearty laugh is heard. Now_ CHRISTIAN _is trembling all over. He jerks at the boot-buckle and exclaims breathlessly_: CHRISTIAN I’ll show him—(_And awkwardly gets into his coat._) I’ll show him! [_He stoops to pick up his riding-crop from the floor, rises and tiptoes quietly, fearfully in the direction of the French windows._ EVE _calls_: EVE Christian? (CHRISTIAN _shrinks back against the wall, not replying. Silence. Then he makes his way to the window, opens it, stops a moment, shivers slightly, and goes out, closing the windows after him._ EVE _comes in, followed by_ GAIL. GAIL _has not aged perceptibly. One senses rather than sees the difference in him: a shade less enthusiasm in his voice and manner, and in his movements a slight diminishment of spring._ EVE _is older and more beautiful, for the look of anxiety and defeat has departed from her face, leaving a fine serenity in possession_.) I did think I heard him. GAIL But wasn’t he asleep? EVE —I’ll just listen at his door a minute. I won’t go in. [_She goes out, into the library._ GAIL _picks up a Chicago Sunday newspaper and scans it hastily_. MARY, _a housemaid of about thirty, in gray uniform, comes in from the dining-room with a coffee-service and two cups, which she places upon a table in front of the sofa, near the fire_. GAIL If anyone telephones don’t disturb us, Mary. There’s something on the radio at two I don’t want to miss. MARY I’ll tell Ella, Sir. [_She goes out._ GAIL _again consults the newspaper, then goes to the radio-cabinet, looks at his watch, examines the radio-dial, sets it carefully and tunes in on a station. It is a choir singing an old hymn. As soon as the voices are clear enough, he switches off the radio, taking care to leave the dial set at the proper place. He then seats himself upon the sofa and pours two cups of coffee._ EVE _re-enters from the library_. EVE —Not one sound. He’s quiet as a mouse. GAIL Good. [_She goes to the fireplace and stands with her back to it._ EVE Suddenly I’m so cold. (_He gives her her coffee._) Thanks. That should help.—I hope he has a good long nap. GAIL No more temperature, is there? EVE None since Friday. GAIL When are you going to move him back to his own room? EVE Why, I was just thinking: I might leave him down here. It seems to make him feel so independent. GAIL Oh, but Eve! I want him next to me. I like to go in and wake him up mornings. We’ve got a great game: I’m a different kind of animal every day, and he always pretends to be so scared. [EVE _looks at him curiously_. EVE How long have you been doing that? GAIL Oh—weeks, now.—Then he gets to laughing. The last time he laughed so hard he cried. EVE Really? You mean since the accident? GAIL Oh no, before. [_A moment. Then_: EVE —Doctor Burke says the bandages can come off tomorrow. GAIL It’s about time. EVE I went over the photographs again with him. There’s not a sign of a fracture. GAIL I never thought there would be. Wasn’t I right behind him the whole time? He just got timid at the water-jump and pulled up. You know it takes three good falls to make a horseman. Let him have them young, and get them over with. I had mine by the time I was six. He’s slow. EVE I didn’t tell you: Burke finally admitted that if the fever had gone on another day, we— [_She stops._ GAIL We what? EVE —We might not have him now. GAIL He doesn’t know what he’s talking about. EVE He seems to, usually. This time I wasn’t sure.—I hope I was right to let the nurse go. GAIL Now listen, dear— EVE Anyhow, I’m going to keep him absolutely quiet for awhile. He’ll have to have Christmas in bed, poor lamb. GAIL —But he’s all right again now—he’s all _right_, Eve!—Haven’t you just said—? EVE I’m not going to risk that fever again. GAIL Darling, you certainly take motherhood hard. You came within an ace of dying when you had him, and now, every time he has the slightest upset, you think _he’s_ going to die. EVE It was more than a slight upset. GAIL It’s just as I’ve always said: you’re with him too much. Nurse, governess, mother, sister— EVE I love him. I love to be with him. (_She seats herself beside him._) Tell me, Gail—what’s the surprise you said you had for me? GAIL It isn’t two o’clock yet. EVE But why just two? GAIL You’ll see! EVE I shall wait patiently. [_She replaces her coffee-cup upon the tray._ GAIL _surreptitiously glances at his watch, then speaks with elaborate casualness_. GAIL Oh—er—say, Eve—I wonder what ever became of that Doctor Hay—(EVE _glances at him quickly_.)—You know—he stayed with us here several years ago, when— EVE —I know.—Why? What made you think of him? GAIL I was just wondering what became of him. EVE He’s—apparently he’s quite a celebrated person.—Consulting physician lots of places—honorary degrees, and things of that sort. I—I’ve often seen him referred to in the newspapers, haven’t you? GAIL Often? [EVE _lights a cigarette_. EVE —Well—now and then.—And occasionally there’s an article by him in some magazine—or one about him. GAIL _About_ him!—Say, that’s fame, isn’t it? EVE Yes—I suppose that’s fame. GAIL He’s welcome to it.—He was a strange sort of duck, wasn’t he? I never felt at home with him.—I wonder if he still gives lecture-courses. EVE I don’t know. GAIL You don’t ever hear from him, do you? EVE No. GAIL I thought he used to write. EVE Only for a little while at first. I mean—you know—for a month or two after he first left. (_She laughs nervously._) “First” left!—You know what I mean—after he left—after visiting us that time. He wrote as long as I did. Then I stopped. I didn’t want him feeling—you know—obligated to. He’s—he always works so terribly hard. I was sure he simply hadn’t time to—you know—keep on writing letters to anyone indefinitely. GAIL I wonder if he ever thinks of us. EVE I don’t know. GAIL I don’t suppose he even knows that we’ve got Christian. EVE No. I don’t see how he would. I’d—stopped writing him by then— [_A moment._ GAIL —It’d be funny if the door should open and he should walk in right this minute, wouldn’t it? [EVE _starts slightly, then collects herself, and laughs_. EVE Gail! What are you talking about? GAIL It would be, though— [EVE _looks at him intently. A moment. Then_: EVE I can’t imagine what you’re— GAIL (_off-hand_) Oh—anything can happen nowadays—The Age of Wonders, isn’t it? (_Then hastily._)—Tell me—what did Christy think of the new saddle— EVE He said to tell you thanks again for it.—But really, Gail— GAIL (_eagerly_) He likes it, does he? I didn’t know. He was so quiet when I gave it to him. EVE He’s been polishing it away for dear life. GAIL Has he? EVE —The entire morning. He says he wants to get it looking like a chestnut. GAIL Good boy! (_Then, confidentially_:) You see, I don’t want him losing his confidence over this. The first day he’s able, I want him to get right on board again, and— EVE (_suddenly, sharply_) No, Gail! GAIL But it’s terribly important to. Don’t you see— EVE No. I don’t see. GAIL Well, it’s terribly important, that’s all. The first thing to do after a fall, is to get up and ride. Everyone has accidents. They’re incidental. The main thing about any sport you love, particularly horses, is to— EVE But I don’t believe he loves them as you do. GAIL Oh no!—Just watch his face with O’Brien at a show some time. Oh no! EVE —But you see, I think Christian’s as I was at his age—as I was until not so very many years ago— GAIL How’s that? EVE —Painfully, agonizingly anxious to be what people want him to be. GAIL Well, that’s not such a bad thing, is it? EVE It’s not a good thing.—_I_ want him to be himself—to the furthest reaches of himself—but himself, first, last and always. That isn’t easy for a son of mine to learn. GAIL Maybe not. But it’s easy for a son of mine to take to horses. [_A brief pause._ EVE I’m sorry to tell you, but I think he has a deathly fear of them. GAIL I don’t believe it. That’s the bunk, Eve. EVE He’s afraid of nothing else that I know of. You’re afraid of cats. You can’t be in a room with one. GAIL Cats are different. They slink.—And I’m not in the least afraid of them. I just don’t like the beasts. EVE Perhaps that’s how Christian feels.—Anyhow, I don’t think he ought to ride again until he wants to. And I think he’s too young to hunt, by years yet. [_A silence. Then_: GAIL Now see here, Eve—(_He hesitates._) No— EVE Do say it. Please do. GAIL It’s simply that I believe you’re off on the wrong foot with Christian, and always have been. EVE I was afraid you did. Gail dear—listen— GAIL No—_you_ do: In the first place, he ought to be at school. [EVE _smiles_. EVE Don’t you think I know as much as the teachers there? I worked awfully hard for my degree at Redman. GAIL I’m not thinking only of him. I’m thinking of you too.—You never see your old friends any more— [EVE _smiles_. EVE I have a more attractive young friend, now. GAIL But hang it, Eve—he can’t even read or write yet! EVE It does seem late, I’ll admit. But they’ll come so easily, when they come. So far, he’s been so occupied with real things. GAIL Oh? What for instance? Tell me three things he knows— [EVE _looks away_. EVE —Well, he knows how he came about. He knows anatomy. GAIL (_ironically_) —Fine. What else? EVE He has a sense of the strangeness of the world, of himself in it. GAIL I’m talking about practical things. EVE (_finding them_) Well, he knows where the trout lie—how to make a telephone—what to do for a mother-sheep at lambing-time.—Every stick of furniture in his room he made himself.—He can grow things out of the rocks, it seems to me.—I’ve seen him let a swarm of bees settle on his bare arm, and bring them to a new hive. GAIL Very valuable in after life— EVE He knows that Jesus lived, and was a hero. He can lead you to a spring in any patch of woods you take him to—he can _smell_ water! (_Then, in a rush_:) He knows how to—the difference between—he can tell you why—oh, what a lot he knows! And all of it his—his own—a part of him! GAIL —Hang it, you don’t _want_ to see what I mean! EVE Yes I do. Tell me, Gail. [_He turns away._ GAIL What’s the good? EVE Darling, let’s not be ridiculous. Christian is our one and only. But all the same, children are my specialty. I’m wiser about them than you’d believe. I’ve made myself wise. I don’t spoil him, truly. I’m harder with him than you could ever be, but in another way. I don’t try to tell you how to school horses. Please trust in my way with Christian. GAIL Now you’re making me self-conscious about him. EVE No, no! I don’t want to do that! GAIL Well, I’ve always done as you’ve said about him so far, haven’t I? But when I see a boy turn yellow as he did— [EVE _turns upon him_. EVE Yellow?!—What are you talking about? GAIL He was yellow at that jump, Eve, and that’s all there is to it.—There, now you’ve got it. [_A moment. Then_: EVE Yes. GAIL —And don’t think I like to say a thing like that about my own kid, either. But when— EVE I’ve got it, Gail. (_She moves toward the hall, but stops in the doorway, turns and looks at him, decides to stay. She goes to the radio and turns it on._)—Shall I find some music? [_Instantly a low, clear voice is heard._ THE VOICE —But the fact is, the human race was born with its emotions. Reason it acquired later, slowly, painfully. Possibly that is why it puts so high a premium upon it. [GAIL _has started at the sound of the voice, and looked at his watch_. GAIL Hell! Ten past. The time got away from me. EVE (_faltering_) But what—? GAIL It’s Doctor Hay—he’s in Chicago.—I saw it in the radio-news. (_The door-bell rings._)—What’s that?—Oh—the door.—I thought you’d be surprised. [EVE _makes her way to the sofa and sits there, eyes straight ahead, listening_. GAIL _seats himself upon the arm of a chair near the radio, head bent, intent, his back to her_. ELLA _passes through the hall to the front door_. HAY’S _voice has continued_: HAY’S VOICE —The common presumption seems to be that the height a civilization reaches is measured by the manner in which its collective reason functions. I don’t agree. I believe the only measure is the quality of its emotional responses. There is my first conclusion. GAIL Hang it, it must be nearly over. [HAY’S _voice continues_. HAY’S VOICE Emotion, whether of joy or fear, of love or hate, of hope or of despair, is strengthened by indulgence, weakened by denial. That is the part that reason plays in the scheme of life. That is why the game is worth the candle, why the fight to be and realize ourselves, is worth the effort. [ELLA _comes into the doorway. She appears to be frightened._ ELLA Mr. Redman—O’Brien’s at the door. He wants to see you. GAIL —In a minute, tell him. ELLA But—but I think it’s important, Sir. [GAIL _rises and moves toward the hall_. GAIL If he’s let that colt break loose again— [_He goes out, after her._ EVE _is oblivious_. HAY’S _voice has continued simultaneously_: HAY’S VOICE For me, I believe the highest point a human being can reach is that at which he knows he has earned the right to depend upon emotion to prompt action. It is a right hard to earn, almost impossible to earn, but the true heroes of this world have earned it. Who does not know the power of small things to recapture lost emotions?—The sight of a green lawn curving beneath chestnut-trees—the rush of water running past—the smell of certain flowers— [_He pauses a moment._ EVE (_a breath_) Nicholas—Nicholas— HAY’S VOICE —Lost, did I say?—But they are never lost. [GAIL _comes into the doorway with_ CHRISTIAN _in his arms_, ELLA _behind him_. GAIL Eve— [_She does not hear him._ HAY’S VOICE Emotion is the only real thing in our lives; it is the person, it is the soul. That is my last conclusion. GAIL Eve! EVE Was it the colt again? [GAIL _cannot answer_. CHRISTIAN _is limp in his arms_. CHRISTIAN (_a moan_) My head, my head— [EVE _turns sharply, rises and goes to them_. EVE (_barely touching_ CHRISTIAN’S _brow with her fingers_) Oh—oh— ELLA I’ll call Doctor Burke. [_She goes out, down the hall._ EVE He’s burning up. GAIL (_in a rush_) O’Brien said he never in his life saw him ride better. He made a perfect jump, O’Brien said—and came back at a dead trot and—and then—just fell off in his arms. He was out like a light—and oh, Eve—what are we going to do? CHRISTIAN My head, my— EVE Christian. Christian! (_He does not answer._)—Take him into his room. We’ll get his things off. [GAIL _carries_ CHRISTIAN _toward the library_, EVE _following. In the doorway he stops and cries once more_: GAIL Eve! What are we going to _do_? [EVE _stops, looks at the radio, and murmurs_: EVE —He’ll know. _He_ will know. [GAIL _goes out, followed by_ ELLA, _who has come in with a glass of water_. HAY’S VOICE (_simultaneously_) —Analyze it however scientifically you will—and I have spent years upon it—call it a mere natural functioning of the nerves and brain, say that its seat lies in the thalamus, the glandular system, it remains the same—mysterious, occult, alive and real. Without organic existence, formed of such insubstantialities as memory and desire, it alone gives substance to the world around us. [EVE _goes to the telephone_. EVE Give me long distance, please. HAY’S VOICE —Emotion we were created with. Reason came after. Reason is our own invention. EVE Long Distance?—I want to talk with Chicago. Doctor Nicholas Hay.—N-i-c-h-o-l-a-s H-a-y—Just a moment, I’ll find it.—No, I don’t know the number. Oh, please wait a moment! It’s important! It’s— HAY’S VOICE —So if we earn the right, we may trust emotion over it, confident that in it we have, somehow, the whole experience of the human race to draw upon. It has its physical instruments, surely—nerves, brain, the endocrines. But they are only instruments. It is the difference between the voice and the wires which carry it, the poem and the handful of pied type one may compose to set it down. [_A silence._ EVE Oh—please wait! (_Then once more in a controlled, precise voice_:)—Main 856.—Mrs. Gail Redman. Yes, I want to speak to him himself—no—no—_Hay_—H-a-y.—The address? One moment, I’ll give it to you— [_She listens intently to the_ ANNOUNCER’S _voice, which has already begun_: ANNOUNCER’S VOICE —You have been listening to Doctor Nicholas Hay, the eminent educator and man of science, now lecturing at the University of Chicago, in his first talk for this station on “The Science of Emotions.”—The second of Doctor Hay’s interesting talks will be given at the same hour—two o’clock P. M., Central Standard Time, next Sunday December the twenty-eighth. This is Station WMAQ, Chicago, Columbia Broadcasting Company, 410 North Michigan Avenue, Chicago. EVE —Columbia Broadcasting Company, 410 North Michigan Avenue.—Please hurry it. It’s most urgent.—No—I’ll hold on— [_She turns toward the library and calls_: EVE Gail!—Is he all right? GAIL Not yet— ANNOUNCER —And now we shall have the pleasure of hearing Luke McAllister and his Lazy Blue Lads, in a few selections from the current dance hits. Station WMAQ, Chicago, Earle Walker announcing. ANOTHER VOICE Good afternoon, friends and playmates. You look well—how do you feel? What would you like to hear?—Yes?—I guessed it!—Leave it to Luke. [_A popular dance-tune begins._ EVE _waits. The music continues. She makes a movement toward the radio, to stop it, but just then a voice is heard on the telephone._ EVE Hello? Hello—yes, yes—that’s right—(_A moment._) Nicholas! This is Eve—Eve Redman. Oh. Who is it?—Oh—this is Mrs. Redman, Gillespie. I must speak to Doctor Hay at once. Quickly—quickly! (_A pause. The music continues._)—Nicholas?—Yes—this is Eve.—Yes—I know. Yes, yes!—But Nicholas, you must come here at once. (_His voice is heard, an indistinct murmur, through the music._ EVE _speaks from a dry throat, with a desperate effort at control_:) My child is ill—so desperately ill.—My _child_, Nicholas. We don’t know what it is, or what to do. (_Again his voice is heard in reply. She waits, agonized, her face contorted with suffering. Then_:) You see, about three weeks ago—Thanksgiving Day it was—he was thrown from his horse. (_At last her control breaks._)—And ever since, Nicholas—ever since then, he’s— [_Her voice, and the music, and the lights have faded out. The stage is silent and dark._ ACT THREE SCENE II _Three days later. About seven o’clock in the morning. It is just becoming light. The lamps in the living-room are still on. There are no flowers in the room._ GILLESPIE _is seated with his feet up, upon the sofa, smoking and sketching upon a pad. There are several loose pages on the floor beside him. He seems very little changed._ DOCTOR BURKE _sits in a chair nearby. He is a little balder, a little ruddier, and wears round, gold-rimmed spectacles. He is finishing a story, the length of which irritates_ GILLESPIE. BURKE —Ripley, the heart man, was the most distinguished member present. He’d just been telling a long story about how he’d made some particularly clever diagnosis—on President Cleveland, I think it was—when Pratt discovered that old Doctor Ainslee was dead there in his chair. Of course he should never have come to the dinner—he was only two day’s out of bed.—Well, sir, Ripley listened for the heart a moment, then straightened up and said: “Gentlemen, he died like a soldier on the field of battle.” “Field of battle, nothing,” said Pratt. “You know you talked him to death.” [_He laughs delightedly at his story. Then_: GILLESPIE (_like a knife_) Well, Doctor, how long do you give the kid? [BURKE _is serious again in an instant_. BURKE Don’t put it like that. GILLESPIE How’d you like it put? [MISS FRAZER, _a pleasant-faced trained-nurse of about thirty-five, comes in from the hall in street clothes and hat_. MISS FRAZER Good morning, Doctor. (_He grunts her name_)—I couldn’t get my Ford started. (_Taking off her hat._) What kind of a night did he have? BURKE No change. Miss Blake has the chart. MISS FRAZER (_moving toward the library_) Poor little fellow. [_She goes out._ BURKE (_to_ GILLESPIE) —Conditions like this aren’t unusual in high-strung children. GILLESPIE —Complete stupor for three days? BURKE It’s stubborn, I’ll admit. GILLESPIE You fellows make me laugh. BURKE You fellows don’t seem much brighter. What’s Hay done? GILLESPIE —Hasn’t been able to get through to him yet. BURKE (_suddenly snapping_) He’d better hurry. [GILLESPIE _glances at him_. GILLESPIE Thanks. BURKE For what? GILLESPIE Answering my question. [BURKE _rises impatiently and moves away, looking at his watch_. GILLESPIE _goes on sketching_. MISS BLAKE, _the night-nurse, now in street-clothes, passes through the hall_. MISS BLAKE Good night, Doctor. BURKE Good night, Miss Blake. [_She goes out._ HAY _comes in from the library. His hair has grayed very slightly, and there are new lines about his eyes and mouth. Otherwise, he seems the same._ GILLESPIE _rises_. GILLESPIE Going to get some sleep, Sir? HAY No. It’s a cigarette I want. (_He takes one, lights it and then turns to_ BURKE.)—But I wish you could persuade Mrs. Redman to— BURKE Is she still in there? [HAY _nods_. HAY —And Redman. BURKE Oh, I’ve given him up.—I’ll see what I can do with Eve, though. HAY Do. [_A moment. Then_: BURKE Hay, I’m bound in conscience to tell you that I believe your methods in this case are a lot of— HAY (_absently, without having heard_) What do you think of injections of adrenalin? BURKE (_dubiously_) We might try it. HAY Let’s. [_He indicates_ MISS FRAZER, _in white cap and uniform, who has come in from the library and stands beside_ BURKE, _a clinical thermometer in her hand. He takes it from her and reads it, then looks at her incredulously._ MISS FRAZER I took it twice, Doctor. [BURKE _returns the thermometer to her and goes quickly out, into the library_. HAY (_to_ MISS FRAZER) Would you ask Mr. Redman to come here, please? (_She nods and goes out. He turns to_ GILLESPIE.) 94-point-2. Down like a shot. GILLESPIE Good Lord. HAY He won’t rouse. He just stares at you. His eyes are like blue glass. I thought I’d got his attention once half an hour ago, but it was like trying to hold on to water. GILLESPIE What have you been using to get at him with? HAY Anything I could think of—old toys, reading baby-stories—nothing’s any use. GILLESPIE Maybe Mrs. Redman has ideas. HAY I’ve had so little chance to talk to her. I want to talk to her now. She said she’d come in a moment. (_A pause. He thinks._)—I wish I knew whether he’s their own child or whether they adopted him. GILLESPIE (_surprised_) What? HAY When we were here before they talked of it. GILLESPIE They certainly treat him as if he was their own. HAY I know, but I’d like to be sure. Everything’s important now. [GAIL _comes in_. GAIL What is it, Doctor? HAY I’m afraid I’ll have to ask you to stay out of the room for awhile. There are too many in there. GAIL But— HAY I’m sorry, but it’s necessary. GAIL (_dully_) All right. HAY Please go upstairs and try to get a few hours’ sleep. [GAIL _laughs shortly_. GAIL Sleep—! HAY Then take a walk. You needn’t go far. GAIL (_suddenly_) Look here, Doctor Hay— HAY Yes? GAIL I’m Christian’s father and I’ve got a right to know. It’s all very well to keep Eve bucked-up, but— HAY What is it you want to know? GAIL (_with difficulty_) He’s—going to come through it all right, isn’t he? [_A moment._ HAY I don’t know, Redman. I hope so. GAIL Oh God, Doctor— HAY We’re doing all we can. GAIL Isn’t there someone we ought to send for? HAY —Anyone you like. Last night I talked to Sprague in Chicago and Macomber in New York. There aren’t two better men anywhere. Both of them agreed with Burke: that it’s probably some sort of an infection that existed before the fall, that the fall was a mere coincidence. GAIL But he’s been tested for everything, hasn’t he? HAY Everything that seems possible.—So even if they’re right— GAIL —How do you mean “even if”? HAY Well, you see, I don’t agree with them. I don’t believe the condition has any physical basis. I believe it’s all in his mind—or heart— GAIL I don’t get you. HAY Has he been under any strain that you know of? GAIL No. He’s a terribly happy kid, always has been.—What are you going to _do_? HAY If I can get his attention I think he’ll tell me what’s troubling him. I’ve worked with children for a long time, now. I’m supposed to be able to win their confidence and to think with them in their own terms. I’ve no doubt we’ll find the trouble so simple it will break your heart. Then it will be up to you and his mother to straighten it out for him. My part will be to try to tell you how to go about it. It may take a little time, but don’t think there’s any mystery to it—there isn’t—there’s none whatever. GAIL But if you can’t even—Doctor, what _is_ it? What’s doing it? HAY (_after a moment’s hesitation_) —I believe it’s a wall of childish reasoning he’s built between you and his emotions. The real problem is to find a way to him through it, before he starves behind it. I hope we’ll be successful. I think we will.—Go on now, will you?—Put on your coat and get some air. GAIL Oh Christ, Doctor—you don’t know what it’s like. You wait years for a kid, and then you get one, and then all of a sudden— HAY Stop it! GAIL But I’ve got the—(_His voice sinks._)—the most terrible feeling that he’s— HAY Then get rid of it! (_He gestures toward the hall._) Go on, please—do as I say. (GAIL _goes to the hall and out. It is now light outside._ HAY _sighs and covers his eyes with his hand_.)—Put out those damn lamps, will you? They’re like ghosts. (GILLESPIE _extinguishes the lamps_.)—And kick up the fire. God, it’s a tomb. (_A moment._) Well, we’ve got him out of that room. Now the point is to keep him out. I don’t like the way the boy keeps looking at him. GILLESPIE (_at the fireplace_) —“And then you get one,” he said. HAY I heard him. GILLESPIE That probably means he’s their own. HAY Probably. I’m still not sure. GILLESPIE Why didn’t you ask him point-blank? HAY Somehow I couldn’t. (_He rises, and turns to put out his cigarette._) Make out an adrenalin prescription, will you? And go for it yourself. Three or four ampules. We’ll give him five minims at a time. GILLESPIE Right. [_He goes out into the hall as_ EVE _enters from the library_. EVE Nicholas— [_He turns quickly._ HAY Ah, my dear—do take some rest. You must rest a little, really. [_She moves into his arms and rests her head upon his breast._ EVE —Let me stay just here a moment. Then tell me the truth. (_For a moment he holds her to him, stroking her head. Finally she lifts it._) Now—(_He looks at her._) Tell me, Nicholas— HAY What, dear—? EVE Will he get well? [_A brief moment. Then_: HAY Yes. EVE How do you know? HAY I don’t know how I know. (EVE _looks away, fearfully_. _He leads her to the sofa and draws her down beside him._) We’ve scarcely spoken, have we? EVE I can’t speak of anything but him. HAY We’ll speak of him. EVE< You were kind to come. HAY Don’t say that. I’d have come across the earth. EVE I believe you would. (_She looks at him with a half-attempt at a smile._) Nicholas—did I ask you for a child? Didn’t I say, “Don’t make fun of me”? HAY —It was here in this room that we first talked of it, wasn’t it? EVE Yes. Just here. HAY It seemed so clear to me that you must have one. EVE You even named him— HAY “Christian”—yes— EVE —And told me what to sing to him— HAY He’s such a dear child— EVE Why not? Why shouldn’t he be? Oh, why not, why—(_Her voice breaks. She buries her face in her hands._)—It was you who gave him to me—give him back! [_He looks at her uncertainly, not comprehending._ HAY Hush, dear—he’ll be all right, I promise you. [_She looks up at him._ EVE Do you, Nicholas? HAY I promise. EVE But he doesn’t even listen. He doesn’t even hear us. HAY (_still gazing, puzzled_) He will. EVE He just looks at Gail. HAY It’s Gail that he’s really afraid of, isn’t it? EVE Yes. I think so. Does that make a difference? HAY A very great one. (_A moment. Then_:) Eve—did you adopt him, darling? (_In a swift gesture she covers his hand with hers, then shakes her head slowly, silently, unable to speak._)—He’s all your own, then. [_Her hand closes more tightly over his._ EVE Nicholas— HAY Yes, dear— EVE —And yours. HAY And—? (_She nods dumbly. He bends and kisses her hand._) Oh my dear—my dear one. EVE I couldn’t tell you. You had so much to do. I was afraid it would interfere. Forgive me— HAY My love, I love you. EVE —And Gail—it meant so much to Gail to have him— HAY Of course, of course. EVE —Just now—in there—the most horrible thing came over me: it’s I who’ve done it—no one else— HAY Done what? EVE —Knowing he was yours, not his—always I’ve been trying to keep him from him, keep him yours. He’s been pulled this way, that way—never knowing why, by what—every which way, until at last he—oh, poor child, poor child— HAY Eve, listen— EVE No. It’s true.—It could be that—couldn’t it, _couldn’t_ it? (_He does not answer._) Tell me! (_Again no answer._)—Yes. (_She averts her head._)—So go to him. Do what you can. Give him to Gail, or take him for yourself. Only don’t—unless you must—don’t let him know what I did to him. [HAY _rises_. HAY I must tell you one thing: I knew with the first word you spoke the other night that it had not changed for us—that it was only the time between that made it seem so distant. So when he’s well again, you both come with me. That’s all, Eve. EVE I—if— [_The front door is heard to open. She glances toward it and starts to rise._ HAY —No. You stay here. (GAIL _comes in, his collar turned up, his hair blown, staring vacantly_.)—Think of some way through to him. Only you can find it. You must find it. Think—_think_— [_He goes to the library and out, leaving the door open after him._ EVE _sinks down again upon the sofa_. GAIL _goes to her and takes her hand_. GAIL —There now, dear—don’t worry so. I’m sure it’s going to be all right. EVE (_thinking_) —Yes. Yes, of course. GAIL It’s just—you know—it’s just that a fever’s always weakening. He wasn’t really hurt, you see. And there’s nothing really wrong with him. They’ve made every imaginable test you could think of and he’s just as sound as he can be. It’s just this damned weakness, now—perfectly natural after a fever—he’ll get strong very quickly, you see if he doesn’t. We’ve had the best possible advice there is—. Hay talked it over with the best men there are—there couldn’t be any other treatment, and— [EVE _disengages her hand and strokes his head. Her eyes still straight ahead, thinking, thinking._ EVE There, dear—there—never mind— GAIL (_more slowly_) —And we’ve just got to be brave and patient, that’s all and be perfectly certain that he’ll get all well again very soon, and—(_His head drops upon her breast._) And—oh God, Eve—if Christian dies I just can’t stand it. I can’t, I can’t! It’s I who’ll have killed him, with my—with my stupid— EVE No, no! GAIL —It’s true. I know it now.—But I’ve got to have another chance with him. I’ll never again try to change him—he’s all right with me—(_He clings to_ EVE, _shakes her_.) Say he’ll get well, Eve! Say we won’t lose Christian, say it! EVE Gail— [_He sobs, brokenly_: GAIL No—don’t tell me—don’t. I know—I know what’s going to happen—Oh darling, darling, it mustn’t! What shall we do? EVE (_from a distance_) —You do love him so much, don’t you? GAIL _Love_ him? Love Christian? Oh, Eve!—God, he’s my—oh, love him! Do I love him! Love Christian, that sweet kid—why, if I’d ever thought I’d ever love a— EVE Hush, dear. He will get well. GAIL He must. He simply must. Or I’ll— [EVE _rises abruptly_. EVE Wait! [_She listens. From the bedroom beyond the library_, CHRISTIAN _is heard calling in a small young voice_: CHRISTIAN Mummy! (EVE _stands rigid. Again he calls_:)—_Mummy—!_ [GAIL _grasps_ EVE’S _arm fearfully_. GAIL Oh, Eve—his voice—it’s like it was when he was two. He’s slipping back—he’s slipping over— EVE (_to herself_) —When he was two. When he was— [_Swiftly, she goes out into the library._ GILLESPIE _comes in, in hat and overcoat, a small paper package in his hand_. GAIL _is following_ EVE _into the library_. GILLESPIE Redman! (GAIL _turns_. GILLESPIE _murmurs_:)—Don’t go in there. [_They listen intently as_ EVE _is heard singing softly_: EVE “Frèr-e Jacq-ues, Frèr-e Jacq-ues, dormez-vous, dormez-vous. Sonn-ez les matin-es, sonn-ez les matin-es—” [_It is_ CHRISTIAN’S _voice which concludes_: CHRISTIAN “Ding, dang, dong—” (_Then stronger, more clearly._) “Ding, dang, dong!” EVE (_joyfully_) Christian! [GAIL _looks wonderingly to_ GILLESPIE, _who glances down at the bottle in his hand, smiles confidently and tosses it away upon the sofa. The stage is darkened._ ACT THREE SCENE III _A week later. Four in the afternoon. There are bright flowers in the vases._ ELLA, _with a number of wreaths of holly on the floor beside her, is at the mantelpiece, removing a rope of Christmas greens_. MARY _is helping her. Beside her is a basket filled with wreaths and greens._ HAY _is standing near the French windows, his back to the hall doorway_. ELLA _picks up the wreaths and goes to_ MARY. ELLA They lasted well this year, didn’t they? MARY They make the room so pretty. I always hate to see them go. [EVE _comes in from the hall in a short jacket, and wearing a hat and muff_. EVE You’ve left the tree in the library, Ella—? [_She has not seen_ HAY. ELLA Yes, Ma’am. I thought you— EVE —Yes. Christian will want to see it once more, lighted. (_She removes her jacket and hat and puts them on the sofa, with her muff._)—Are Doctor Hay’s bags down? ELLA —In the hall, Ma’am.—All but the small one. [HAY _turns_. HAY Gillespie will attend to that. [EVE _starts at the sound of his voice_. EVE Oh— [_They stand looking at each other._ MARY _goes out, with the basket_. ELLA Doctor Burke stopped by to see Christian. He’s in with him now. EVE (_without turning_) Yes. (_A silence._ EVE _and_ HAY _wait, gazing at each other, until_ ELLA _goes out. Then_ EVE _speaks in a low voice_:) I can’t do it alone, Nicholas. I’ve walked my feet off, up and down. I can’t decide by myself. You must help me. HAY What have you been telling yourself? EVE First—and always—that I love you as no one ever was loved before— [_He smiles and covers her hand with his._ HAY It sounds so final. What else? EVE —That in some way I had learned to get on without you. (_A sudden cry_:) Oh, Nicholas—help me! _Tell_ me what to do! (_He shakes his head._)—But when I know that whatever you decide for us must be right! [_Again he shakes his head._ HAY —What else have you told yourself? [_A moment. Then_: EVE —That Christian and I are really yours— HAY Yes. EVE —And if we are to go with you it must be truly with you—now—this afternoon. HAY Ten minutes. EVE (_distraught_) —Short—so terribly short, for a lifetime. (_Again she begins to range about the room._)—If I go, it will break Gail’s heart.—And if I take Christian, it will be the end of him.—It’s one thing, believing that love overtook us suddenly, in a day or two, just now. It’s another to know that day after day for years, one has been—Oh, but I never felt the deception—I promise you I didn’t! It hasn’t been at all what you’d call “living a lie.” If you knew how happy and proud he’s been—how satisfied with life, how—to think he had a son of his own!—It gave him such a feeling of— HAY I know that feeling, Eve. [_She looks at him. A moment, then_: EVE —But now to as much as say to him: “Look you, _you’ve_ got no child—you never had. This is another man’s.—And the wife you thought was yours—she’s his, too.”—It would destroy him. (_Again she looks at him, reads his question._)—No. Heaven’s own judgment could not destroy you, Nicholas. HAY Well, Eve—? EVE You are the wise one! _You_ say! HAY (_at last_) The truth is the truth. For years we have loved each other, and Christian is our child. That is the truth. EVE No—those are the facts.—It may be that the truth is simply that I’m Gail’s wife, and my place is here, because he needs me. HAY Do you need no one? (_She is silent. Involuntarily, she seems to gain stature._) No—not any more, do you?—You have yourself, now. EVE —That, too, you’ve given me.—(_Then her head lowers again. She murmurs_:) Should I ever again be able to hold my head up? HAY There is a finer pride than you have now, Eve. [_She looks at him, and looks away._ EVE —Oh, but I love you, my sweet, my great—I love you, love you— HAY Then— [_She goes to him._ EVE Say that you love me, too— HAY I love you, too, my sweet, my great— EVE It—somehow, just as it is, it’s so complete.—Still—then I look at you—and think of you not here like this—(_Blindly her hand travels up to his arm, across his face, over his head._)—And I don’t know. (_A moment._)—Leave me alone a moment.—Let me try once again, without you. [_He picks up her hand, kisses it. She holds his for a moment against her cheek, then drops it. The library door opens and_ BURKE _comes in_. BURKE Your young man’s fine as silk, Eve. [EVE _turns, startled_. EVE —Oh—Doctor Burke—(_She recovers herself._)—I think the air has done him good, don’t you? BURKE (_nodding_) —You might take him away on a little trip. He doesn’t need it, but you do. HAY You think he’s able to travel, then. BURKE Lord, yes—has been for days.—Worries over at last, eh, Eve? EVE Isn’t it fine? [BURKE _looks at the bags in the hall_. BURKE What’s the luggage-shop in the hall? Is Hay leaving? EVE Yes. BURKE Tell him good-bye for me. EVE Yes. BURKE —Quite a bright fellow. EVE I think so. HAY Thanks! [BURKE _wraps a woolen muffler about his neck_. BURKE Of course Christian would have got well anyway. HAY Of course! BURKE —Hay ought to take better care of himself. EVE (_in alarm_) How’s that? BURKE I didn’t like the look of him during last week’s strain.—You can only run an engine so hard so long, you know. [EVE _looks anxiously to_ HAY. _He goes to_ BURKE. HAY (_drily_) What do you suggest? BURKE Rest—plenty of rest, and maybe a little iodine. HAY Thank you. [BURKE _takes his hand_. BURKE It’s been a pleasure, Hay. HAY —For me, too. [_Still retaining his hand_, BURKE _looks about him at the room_. BURKE Lovely house, isn’t it? HAY Lovely. BURKE It’s always been a treat to me to come here. I don’t think in all my experience I’ve ever known a happier family. [_A moment. Then_: HAY I’ve—I still have a few things to put in. (_He presses_ BURKE’S _hand_.) Good-bye, Doctor. BURKE Good-bye, Hay. (HAY _goes out, up the stairs_. EVE _sinks down upon the sofa_. BURKE _turns to her, pats her shoulder and goes out into the hall. A door closes there._)—Oh—hello, Gail!—No—sorry, I’ve got to run.—I’ll look in again, in a day or two. Your boy’s doing fine. Good-bye! GAIL’S VOICE Good-bye, old man! (_Again the door closes._ GAIL _comes in with a small model of an ice-boat in his hand, goes to_ EVE _and kisses her_.) Hello, darling. EVE Hello, Gail. GAIL Is Hay all ready? EVE Yes. (_A moment. Then_:)—I thought I might go to see him off. GAIL Do, by all means.—Will there be room for me? EVE I’m afraid not. It’s the small car. GAIL That’s right.—(_He seats himself upon the other sofa and begins to rig the ice-boat._) I’ve got something for Chris.—It’s a model for an ice-boat I’m having built. EVE (_thinking_) He’ll love it. GAIL It was Chris who thought of it, you know. EVE (_thinking, thinking_) Really? GAIL Yes. He didn’t know they existed. He drew one—thought he was inventing something. [EVE _laughs nervously_. EVE He’ll be so pleased. GAIL I hope so.—Of course you really ought to have a lake, quite a big one. But I thought with a good wind on the river— EVE It ought to go beautifully. (_A moment. Then_:) Gail— GAIL What, dear? EVE What would you do if anything should happen to me? GAIL What are you talking about! [EVE _laughs shortly_. EVE We’re all mortal, aren’t we? GAIL Not you, if you please. EVE But seriously—if something should— GAIL —Curl up and die myself, I guess. EVE You couldn’t. There’d be Christian— GAIL (_thoughtfully_) Um—so there would—(_Then he comes out of it._) Say!—I thought the gloom had lifted from around here? EVE What would you do with him, Gail? GAIL Lord, I don’t know. (_Then another protest_:) Honestly, Eve— EVE I wish you’d promise me one thing. GAIL What? EVE That, if ever I should die—or go out of my head—or anything like that— GAIL Eve! What _is_ the point? Look here—are you ill, or something? What’s Burke been telling you? Don’t believe him! EVE I was never better, my dear.—Aren’t you the one who says the time to make your will is when you’re feeling best? GAIL I know, but— EVE I just wish you’d promise me that you’d leave the first part of his education to Eunice Adee, and the rest to him.—Will you promise it, Gail? GAIL Sure—if you’ll change the subject. EVE Solemnly? GAIL Solemnly. EVE You’re a man of your word, Gail— GAIL I hope so! EVE (_rising_) Well—I’m afraid I am not a woman of mine. GAIL —And what does that mean, for instance? Why all this cryptic—(GILLESPIE _comes in from the hall, wearing his overcoat and carrying his hat_.) Hello, Gillespie. Are you off? GILLESPIE So it seems. GAIL I wish I could go to the station with you, but the big car’s up, and there are too many applicants for the small one. GILLESPIE Too bad. GAIL Where’s Doctor Hay? GILLESPIE He’ll be right down. [GAIL _goes to the library door, with a chuckle of anticipation_. GAIL I want to see Christian a minute. [_He opens the door._ EVE _snatches up her hat and coat and turns to_ GILLESPIE. _But before she can speak_ CHRISTIAN _is heard calling joyfully_: CHRISTIAN Oh, hello! What’ve you got? Is it for me? [_And_ GAIL: GAIL You’ll see! Come here a minute—let me show you— [_They laugh together delightedly._ EVE _has turned to listen. Their voices die away. Her coat drops in her hands. Slowly, knowing already, she turns once more to_ GILLESPIE. _He shakes his head and murmurs_: GILLESPIE —Not possible. [_Lifelessly_, EVE _drops her hat and coat upon the sofa_. HAY _comes down the stairs and into the living-room_. HAY (_to_ GILLESPIE) You can put the bags in. GILLESPIE The car isn’t here yet. HAY You might get them out on the porch and ready. GILLESPIE Right, Sir. [_He goes to the hall and out._ HAY Eve— [_She turns to him._ EVE Nicholas—you must take care of yourself— HAY What? EVE You heard what he said. HAY Oh—Burke— EVE He meant it. Promise me! You must make yourself! You must give up everything except the most important things, and— HAY You’re talking about me without you, Eve. [EVE _nods slowly_. EVE Yes. HAY You’ve decided. EVE Yes. HAY You were never not decided. EVE I think that’s true. I want to think so. Because now I see that even if there weren’t Christian—Oh, if I didn’t love _us_—you and me—! (_She concludes, simply_:)—And I couldn’t, then—I simply couldn’t. [HAY _takes her in his arms, kisses her tenderly_. HAY Eve. EVE (_triumph!_) Oh my Nicholas—thanks—_thanks_—! [_Slowly, reluctantly they part._ EVE _retains his hand. Slowly, unknowingly, his other hand travels to his pocket, brings forth his watch. Her eyes leave his, see the watch. His eyes follow hers to it. She releases his hand. A moment, then, as they both stare at the watch, he taps the crystal._ HAY —It’s funny about this watch. EVE What? HAY The crystal keeps coming out. EVE I had one like that. It’s annoying, isn’t it? HAY It’s a confounded nuisance. For something like fifteen years this damned crystal has been coming out. The fact of the matter is, it doesn’t fit, and never has. EVE Can’t you get one that does? HAY I’ve always intended to, but somehow I never get around to it. EVE I know. I was that way with mine. HAY I’ve been counting on it breaking eventually. But look at it: not a crack. EVE My father never carried a watch. He said there was always someone only too anxious to tell you the time when you wanted it. HAY Yes. [_A silence. Then_: EVE —I don’t know anything about you: How do you live? Where? HAY Heaven help me, in hotels. EVE Always? HAY Eternally. EVE That’s awful. Why don’t you get a house somewhere? A small house, with—(_She stops abruptly and averts her head._) No—don’t— HAY Very well. I won’t. [_Again she turns to him._ EVE (_quickly_) Which do you like best? Spring, summer, autumn, winter? HAY Winter. EVE It’s not _true_! HAY It’s gospel. EVE —Of course we’re fools to. You know that. HAY All right. EVE —All _right_. [HAY _looks at his watch again, then at her, then turns reluctantly toward the library. She takes a quick step after him._ EVE (_in a rush_) Do you get up early mornings? HAY Yes, like an idiot. EVE Then what do you do? HAY Eat breakfast. EVE Then what? HAY Mail. EVE Then what? HAY Work. EVE _Then_ what? HAY —Work. EVE Finally what? HAY Sleep. EVE Do you sleep well? HAY No. EVE Sleep well, darling. HAY Thank you, darling. EVE —Pleasant dreams, darling. HAY And to you, my dear. [_A long silence. Then again he taps the watch and replaces it in his pocket._ HAY —I’ll say good-bye to Christian. [_He goes to the library door and out._ GILLESPIE _comes in from the hall wearing his overcoat and carrying his hat_.) GILLESPIE (_to_ EVE) The car’s here. EVE Good. GILLESPIE Are you coming to see us off? EVE No. GILLESPIE Good-bye, Mrs. Redman. [_She turns to him._ EVE Good-bye, Gillespie.—Look after him. GILLESPIE I will. EVE Now and then—write me about him. GILLESPIE Yes. EVE Be my friend, Gillespie. GILLESPIE God, Mrs. Redman—you two are all I love. [_She holds out her hand to him. He takes it._ EVE That’s good to know. Thanks. [ELLA _passes through the hall with_ HAY’S _small bag_. HAY _follows her. He pauses for a moment in the first doorway._ GILLESPIE _sees him_. EVE _does not_. GILLESPIE _goes into the hall and out_. HAY _gazes silently at_ EVE _for a moment. She turns. They look at each other for a long moment, without a word. Then he passes from view. Then for an instant he is seen through the other doorway, taking up his hat and coat. But_ EVE’S _eyes remain where he was. He goes out down the hall. The front door closes after him. A motor is heard starting. Then, at last_, EVE _turns, face bright, no tears_. EVE (_to herself_) —Not changed. Complete— [_Then suddenly, swiftly, she goes to the French windows, opens them and flings her arm up: hail and farewell. The motor is heard departing, more distant, still more distant—_ CURTAIN TRANSCRIBER NOTES Mis-spelled words and printer errors have been fixed. In Act III, in a conversation between HAY and EVE, one speech by HAY is erroneously marked as by NICHOLAS, and has been corrected. [The end of _Tomorrow and Tomorrow_ by Philip Barry]