The Complete Plays of J. M. Barrie - 30 Titles in One Edition. Джеймс Барри

child.

      (PAUL stands rigid, LADY JANET points to bedroom. He goes into bedroom. She remains motionless leaning on her staff. After a pause PAUL comes out.)

      PAUL (very sorrowful). I did not know — I never thought —

      LADY JANET. Men never do.

      (She goes out slowly at entrance and is seen taking JENNY with her. Outer door is heard shutting. There is a great stillness, PAUL is stricken but quiet. He goes to side of sofa. His overcoat is on chair. He places it carefully over MRS. OMMANEY, then sits down on chair near fire by her side.)

      Act III

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      The curtain is lowered only for a moment between Acts II and III to indicate the passing of time. When it rises Mrs. Ommaney is still asleep on sofa and Paul still sitting by her side. Dusk has come on and their figures are only dimly discernible. The fire has burned low. In the stillness the waves are heard breaking on the beach. Paul rises and strikes a match. By its light he looks first at Mrs. Ommaney’s face and then at the clock which shows that two hours have elapsed. He shuts window and pulls curtains, then gropes his way out by the light of the match.

      (The pulling of the curtains has made MRS. OMMANEY stir and open her eyes, unnoticed by him. When he has gone she speaks languidly without getting up.)

      MRS. OMMANEY. Is that you, Jenny? Have I been asleep?

      (SITTING UP AND YAWNING.) Are you there? How dark —

      (Rising bewildered) Why — what — (Disturbed) Something has happened! (A match is heard being struck; she goes towards entrance.) Jenny!

      (A light comes along passage and she retreats backwards as it approaches. Enter PAUL carrying a lamp.)

      You!

      (PAUL looks anxiously at her.)

      Why do you look at me so?

      PAUL. Thank God! (Puts down lamp and sinks into chair.)

      MRS. OMMANEY. When did you come here? Let me think.

      (Presses her hands to her temples.) Ah! (Flings open bedroom door.) Come out! (Seizes lamp and enters bedroom, returns.) Where is she? Your wife!

      PAUL. She is gone. We are alone in the house, you and I — and our child.

      MRS OMMANEY. So you know about HER! Where is your Margaret? She was there a moment ago.

      paul. Nearly two hours ago. You have been — asleep.

      MRS OMMANEY. Sleeping? While she — I don’t remember your coming in.

      PAUL. You were — excited.

      MRS. OMMANEY (pressing her temples again and beginning to understand). Excited? Not — not that! (Entreatingly.)

      PAUL (painfully). The girl Jenny says it happened before.

      MRS. OMMANEY. Again, again! (Covers her face with her hands.)

      PAUL (goes to her pityingly). Kate!

      MRS OMMANEY (DEFIANTLY). Don’t try to get round me. You promised me never to marry. You have broken your promise.

      (IN A HARD VOICE, WITHOUT LOOKING UP) Tell me what happened.

      (PAUL sits down beside her, and the whole act is played very quietly.)

      PAUL. I came FOR my WIFE.! DID NOT KNOW THAT you WERE IN the HOUSE.

      MRS OMMANEY. I remember. I was waiting to give you a wedding gift! (SHE LOOKS GRIMLY AT BEDROOM.)

      PAUL. What wedding gift? You don’t mean —

      MRS OMMANEY. Yes, I do! You broke your promise. Go on.

      PAUL. You had got into that excited state before I came, but we persuaded you to sleep, and then my wife went away.

      MRS OMMANEY. Does she know?

      PAUL. Not everything. Her aunt came in. Jenny’s mother had told her all she knew of you, and she repeated it to Margaret mrs ommaney. But you — do they know that you were the man?

      PAUL. You HAD TOLD MY WIFE THAT your LOCKET CONTAINED his portrait —

      MRS OMMANEY (FEELING FOR LOCKET). Ah, it is gone. Well?

      PAUL. Lady Janet opened it — and saw.

      MRS OMMANEY. And your wife — your wife?

      PAUL. My wife does not know. Lady Janet kept it from her.

      MRS OMMANEY. Then why are you here alone?

      PAUL. Margaret would not remain after —

      MRS OMMANEY. After she knew what sort of woman I was! Recoiled from me, did she? Hid her pretty eyes in horror, eh? That is what her ‘sympathy’ is worth, and it nearly took me in. There was a moment when I hesitated, and almost —

      (LAUGHS SHRILLY) But I am glad she was pitiless.

      PAUL. She is so innocent — if you knew how a man worships innocence in a woman.

      MRS OMMANEY. In one woman, but not in others!

      PAUL (bows his head). Kate, I believe your letter, I never questioned it. I have learned only to-day why you left me, and the generosity of it crushes me in the dust.

      MRS OMMANEY. How did you learn?

      PAUL. You told me yourself, before you fell asleep. At least believe this, that had I understood I would not have let you go.

      MRS OMMANEY. I know. But oh, you were glad to be free! Can you deny it?

      (PAUL cannot answer.)

      Your heart leapt within you, did it not I PAUL. I was distraught with grief and shame.

      MRS. ommaney. But joy came in the morning!

      PAUL. You said you were going home — I thought of following you.

      MRS. OMMANEY (BITINGLY). Did you go?

      PAUL. You asked me in the letter not to do so.

      MRS. ommaney. How obedient a man can be sometimes! But you would not have found me at my father’s. I remained in London. I went back to the dressmaking that I should never have left.

      PAUL. Kate, I make no pretence. I was too willing to believe you. But for you I had no feeling save pity. It was myself I loathed and the life I was leading.

      MRS OMMANEY. The life and I were one. And yet until we met I had been a good woman. I had sat to other painters before I knew you; I had been a popular enough model. I was a harum-scarum, I suppose, but no harm had come of it.

      PAUL. You were a good woman — till we met. That is my condemnation.

      MRS OMMANEY. And you had been a good man. That is mine. Funny, isn’t it?

      (PAUL makes a movement of dissent.)

      Yes, you had. They called you the hermit; your Spartan virtue was the talk of the studios.

      PAUL. I lived too much in my art, and my solitary thoughts. I shrank from men’s free talk of women, and yet when I left them it was to brood of the things they spoke of; theirs was a healthier life than mine. ‘ It is not good for man that he be alone.’ And then you came into my life, and you rang through it like a peal of bells in a lonely house. At first I only meant to be your friend. Ah, Kate, those Bohemian days, when you and I were only comrades.

      MRS. OMMANEY. The dear old studio fire!

      PAUL. How poor I was.

      MRS. OMMANEY. How happy we were!

      PAUL. Ah, but Kate!

      MRS. OMMANEY. Yes, it was soon over.

      PAUL. The end came. Our