ACT IV
The following morning; at the Sterlings'; the library; a warm, livable, and lovable room, full of pictures, photographs, and books; mistletoe and holly decorate everywhere. In the bow-window at back there is a large bird-cage with half a dozen birds in it. The furniture is comfortable and heavily upholstered. At Left there is a fireplace with logs ready, but the fire is not lit. There a big table near the centre, full of magazines, illustrated papers, and books. A big arm-chair is beside the table, and other chairs conversationally close. There is a table near the door at Right, piled with Christmas gifts, still wrapped in white paper; they are tied with many colored ribbons and bunches of holly. There are doors Right and Left. After the curtain rises on an empty stage, Ruth enters quickly; while she has her buoyant manner, she is, of course, more serious than usual. She carries a bunch of fresh violets in her hand. She looks about the room with a sort of curiosity. She is waiting for some one to appear. She takes up a silver-framed photograph of her brother which stands on a table and speaks aloud to it.
Ruth. I'm glad you're spared this. [With a long-drawn breath she places the photograph back upon the table and turns to greet Blanche, who comes in Right.] Good morning, my dear.
[She kisses her.
Blanche. Good morning. You've had my note? [Ruth nods.] Thank you. I wanted to see you before I saw any one else. You must help me decide, only you can.
Ruth. Have you seen your husband this morning?
Blanche. No. He sent word he was feeling ill, but would like to see me when I was willing.
Ruth. And you?
[They sit near each other.
Blanche. I don't want to talk with him till I see more clearly what I am going to do.
Ruth. Mr. Warden told me last night all that happened at "The Hermitage." But on your ride home with Dick?
Blanche. We never spoke. [She rises.] Aunt Ruth, I am going to leave him.
Ruth. [Rising.] No!
Blanche. [Walking up and down.] Why not? Everybody does.
Ruth. [Going to her.] That's just it. Be somebody! Don't do the easy, weak thing. Be strong; be an example to other women. Heaven knows it's time they had one!
[Mrs. Hunter enters Right. Blanche meets her.
Mrs. Hunter. Good morning, my poor dear.
[Going to kiss Blanche.
Blanche. [Taking Mrs. Hunter's hand and not kissing her.] Good morning.
Mrs. Hunter. Clara's gone upstairs to see little Richard. Good morning, Ruth.
[She adds this with a manner of being on the defensive.
Ruth. [Dryly.] Good morning.
Mrs. Hunter. [Sitting by the table and looking at the picture papers.] Isn't it awful! What are you going to do?
Blanche. I don't know yet, mother.
Mrs. Hunter. Don't know? Absolute divorce—no legal separation! [To Ruth.] We're staying at the Waldorf.
[Blanche sits discouragedly on the sofa.
Ruth. [Sitting beside her.] I shall advise against, and do everything in my power to prevent, Blanche's getting a divorce!
Mrs. Hunter. You don't mean to say you'll carry those ridiculous notions of yours into practice?—now that a scandal has come into our very family?
Ruth. Oh, I know selfish, cynical, and worldly people won't agree with me, and I pity and sympathize with Blanche from the bottom of my heart. [Taking and holding Blanche's hand.] But I want her not to decide anything now; wait till the first blows over, and then—well, then I feel sure she will do the strong, noble thing—the difficult thing—not the easy.
Blanche. [Withdraws her hand from Ruth's.] No, you ask too much of me, Aunt Ruth; I can't do it.
Ruth. I say don't decide now—wait.
Blanche. I don't want to wait. I want to decide now and to cut my life free, entirely, from Dick's.
Ruth. You used to agree with me. I've heard you decry these snapshot, rapid-transit, tunnel divorces many a time. I've heard you say when a woman has made her bed, she must lie in it—make the best of her bad bargain.
Blanche. I always sympathized with a woman who sought a divorce in this state.
Ruth. Oh, yes, but you can't, can you?
Blanche. No, but I'm not strong enough to fight out an unhappy life for the sake of setting an example to other women—women who don't want the example set!
Ruth. Blanche, I counted on you to be strong, to be big—
Blanche. [With a voice full of emotion.] But I love Ned Warden. He loves me—life stretches out long before us. Dick has disgraced us all. I don't love him—should I give my happiness and Mr. Warden's happiness for him?
Mrs. Hunter. Absurd! We all have a right to happiness if we can get it. I have chosen; let Blanche follow my example.
Blanche. [Disgusted.] Yours? [Rises.] Oh!
Ruth. [Following up the advantage.] Yes, Blanche, do you want to follow your mother's example?
Blanche. No! But the cases are not analogous!
Mrs. Hunter. Not what? You needn't fling any innuendoes at Mr. Trotter; it's he who said it was my duty to stand by you, advise you, and all that sort of thing. I'm not here to please myself! Goodness knows, a divorce court isn't a very pleasant place to spend your honeymoon!
Blanche. Thank both you and Mr. Trotter, mother; but I ask you to allow Aunt Ruth and me to decide this matter between us.
Mrs. Hunter. Trotter says divorce was made for woman!
Ruth. And what was made for man, please? Polygamy?
Mrs. Hunter. I don't know anything about politics! But I could count a dozen women in a breath, all divorced, or trying to be, or ought to be!
Ruth. And each one of them getting a cold shoulder.
Blanche. What of it if their hearts are warm—poor climbers after happiness!
Ruth. Believe me, dear, the chill spreads. You're going to be selfish?
Mrs. Hunter. She's going to be sensible.
[Clara enters Right.
Clara. Hello, everybody! I just saw Dick coming out of his room and I cut him dead.
Blanche. Clara!
Ruth. [To Blanche.] You've taken a certain responsibility upon yourself, and you can't shirk it.
Blanche. He isn't what I thought him!
Ruth. The day the sun shone on you as a bride, in God's presence, you said you took him for better for worse—
Clara. Dear me, is that in it? The marriage service ought to be expurgated!
Ruth. [To Clara.] I'm ashamed of you.
Clara. That's nothing new!
Blanche. Aunt Ruth, let us talk some other time.
Mrs. Hunter. Oh, if we are in the way, we'll go!
[Rises.
Clara. Yes, come on, let's go to Atlantic City.
Mrs. Hunter. No, I'd rather go to Lakewood.
Clara. Oh, pshaw, Lakewood's no fun! I'm surprised you don't say go to Aiken, North Carolina.
Mrs. Hunter. Mr. Trotter says we can't leave town anyway while Blanche is in this trouble.
Blanche. Mother, please discuss your affairs somewhere else.
Ruth. And if I may be permitted to suggest, you will find Mr. Trotter's advice always pretty good to follow. That young man has better qualities than we have suspected. I have some thing to thank him for; will you be good enough to ask him to come and see me?
Mrs. Hunter. He will not go to your house with my permission. I shall tell him you have never asked me inside your door.
Clara. Mother, if you ask me—[Mrs. Hunter interjects "Which I don't," but Clara continues without paying any attention to the interruption.]—I don't think Mr. Trotter is going to cry himself to sleep for your permission about anything!
Mrs. Hunter. [To Blanche.] Good-by, my dear; if you want me, let me know; I'll be glad to do anything I can. I'm staying at the Waldorf.
Clara. It's full of people from Kansas and Wyoming Territory come to hear the Opera!
Ruth. A little western blood wouldn't hurt our New York life a bit!
Clara. Ah! Got you there! The west is the place where the divorces come from!
Mrs. Hunter. [Laughs.] What's the matter with Providence? I think Rhode Island tips the scales pretty even for the east!
Blanche. Please go, mother; please leave me for a little while.
Mrs. Hunter. Oh, very well, good-by! [Leonard enters Right with a Christmas parcel, which he places on the table Right.] Dear me, have you had all these Christmas presents and not opened them?
Blanche. It is only little Richard in this house who is celebrating Christmas to-day.
Mrs. Hunter. It's a terrible affair; I only hope the newspapers won't get hold of it. [To Leonard.] If any women come here asking for me who look like ladies, don't let 'em in! They ain't my friends; they're reporters.
[Leonard bows and goes out.
Clara. I'm awfully sorry, Blanche, I honestly am; but I think you'll have only yourself to blame if you don't strike out now and throw Dick over. Good-by!
[Mrs. Hunter and Clara go out Right.
Blanche. I wish they wouldn't advise me to do what I want to.
Ruth. Ah!
Blanche. But who do I harm by it? Surely, it wouldn't be for his good to be brought up under the influence of his father!
Ruth. If he saw you patiently bearing a cross for the sake of duty, can you imagine a stronger force for good on the boy's character? What an example you will set him! What a chance for a mother!
Blanche. But my own life, my own happiness?
Ruth. Ah, my dear, that's just it! The watchword of our age is self! We are all for ourselves; the twentieth century is to be a glorification of selfishness, the Era of Egotism! Forget yourself, and what would you do? The dignified thing. You would live quietly beside your husband if not with him. And your son would be worthy of such a mother!
Blanche. And I?
Ruth. You would be glad in the end.
Blanche. Perhaps—
Ruth. Surely! Blanche, for twenty years Mr. Mason and I have loved each other.
[Blanche is astonished. There is a pause.
[Ruth smiles while she speaks, though her voice breaks.]
You never guessed! Ah, well, your father knew.
Blanche. But Mrs. Mason is hopelessly insane; surely—
Ruth. A principle is a principle; I took my stand against divorce. What can you do for a principle if you don't give up everything for it? Nothing! And that is what I mean. To-day I am not sorry—I am happy.
[There is another slight pause. Richard is heard upstairs singing a Christmas carol, "Once in Royal David's City," etc.
Blanche. [With great emotion.] But if it breaks my heart—if it breaks my heart?
Ruth. Hearts don't break from the pain that comes of doing right, but from the sorrow of doing wrong! [Neither woman speaks for a minute; in the silence Ruth hears Richard.] What's that?
Blanche. [Hearing now for the first time.] Richard singing one of his carols.
Ruth. I'd forgotten it was Christmas.
[Leonard enters Left.
Leonard. Doctor Steinhart is here to see Mr. Sterling. Where shall I show him, madame?
Blanche. Here; we'll go—
[Rising.
Leonard. Yes, madame.
[He goes out.
Rut. Well? What are you going to do?
Blanche. I'm thinking—
Ruth. May I come with you, or shall I—
Blanche. No, come.
[The two women start to leave the room together Right, with their arms around each other. They meet Sterling, who enters; he starts, they stop.
Sterling. I beg your pardon, I didn't know you were here.
Blanche. We are going to my room; I am sorry you are not well.
Sterling. Oh, it's nothing, thank you.
Ruth. If we can do anything, let us know.
Sterling. [Overwhelmed with shame, bows his head.] Thank you.
[The women go out Right. At the same moment Dr. Steinhart is shown in by Leonard Left.
Dr. Steinhart. Good morning, Sterling.
Sterling. Good morning, doctor; sit down.
Dr. Steinhart. No, thanks, I'm very rushed this morning. What can I do for you?
Sterling. I've been drinking too much for some time; I can't eat—my nerves are all gone to pieces. I've some—some business troubles, and I haven't slept for a week.
Dr. Steinhart. Is that all! Brace up, help yourself a little, and we can soon make a man of you.
Sterling. I'm afraid it would take more than a doctor to do that.
Dr. Steinhart. Oh, come, we must get rid of melancholy. Come and drive with me to 79th Street.
Sterling. No, I'm too worn out. Look at my hand! [Holds out a trembling hand.] I tell you literally I haven't slept for weeks—I thought you'd give me some chloral or something.
Dr. Steinhart. What? Now?
Sterling. Yes; I've tried sulphonal and all that rot; if doesn't have any effect on me. Give me a hypodermic—
Dr. Steinhart. Nonsense! Come out into the air!
Sterling. I've been out.
Dr. Steinhart. Good! Then try lying down again, and perhaps you'll go to sleep now.
Sterling. Very well, but give me something to take to-night in case I can't sleep then.
Dr. Steinhart. [Takes out a note-book and writes with a stylographic pen.] Be careful what you eat to-day. How about this drinking—did your business trouble come after it began, or did the whiskey come after the business trouble?
Sterling. That's it.
Dr. Steinhart. Um—[Giving Sterling the paper which he tears out of his note-book.] Look here, I've a busy day before me; but I'll look in to-morrow, and we'll have a good talk.
Sterling. Thank you. I say, what is this?
Dr. Steinhart. It's all right. Sulphate of morphia—one-quarter-grain tablets.
Sterling. Isn't that very little?
Dr. Steinhart. Oh, no; you try one, and repeat in an hour if it hasn't done its work.
Sterling. But you've only given me two tablets, and I tell you I'm awfully hard to influence!
Dr. Steinhart. Two's enough; we don't give a lot of drugs to a man in a nervous condition like yours. Don't let them wake you for luncheon if you're asleep. Sleep's best for you. Good-by—pleasant dreams.
[He goes out Left.
Sterling. [Reads off the prescription.] "Two one-quarter-grain tablets sulphate of morphia, Wm. B. Steinhart—" And in ink! Why didn't he write it with a lead-pencil? How can I make it more? Two—wait a minute! Two! [Taking out his own stylographic pen.] What's his ink? [Makes a mark with his pen on his cuff.] Good! the same! Why not make it twelve? [Marking a one before the two.] Just in case—I might as well be on the safe side!
[He rings an electric bell beside the mantel, and waves the paper in the air to dry it. Blanche enters Right.
Blanche. I heard the doctor go. Is anything serious the matter?
Sterling. If it were my body only that had gone wrong, Blanche!
[Leonard enters Left.
[To Leonard.] Take this prescription round the corner and have it put up.
Leonard. Yes, sir.
Sterling. And bring it to me with a glass of water.
Leonard. Yes, sir.
[He goes out Left.
[Blanche is still standing. Sterling sinks into a chair, and puts his head in his hands, his elbows on the table. He lifts his head and looks at her.
Sterling. I know what you're going to do; you don't have to tell me; of course you're going to divorce me.
Blanche. No.
Sterling. What!
[His hands drop to the table; he looks her straight in the face, doubting what he hears.
Blanche. [Looking back into his eyes.] No.
Sterling. [Cries.] Blanche!
[In a tone of amazement and joy.
Blanche. I give you one more chance, for your sake only as my boy's father. But—don't make it impossible for me—do you understand?
Sterling. Yes! I must take the true advantage of this chance your goodness gives me. I must right myself, so that people need not hesitate to speak of his father in Richard's presence. And this I will do. [With great conviction he rises.] I know I am at the cross-roads, and I know the way; but I don't choose it for your reasons; I choose for my own reason—which is that, unfit as I am, I love you.
[He speaks deliberately and with real feeling, bending over her.
Blanche. I tell you truly my love for you is gone for good.
Sterling. I'll win it back—you did love me, you did, didn't you, Blanche?
Blanche.. I loved the man I thought you were. Do you remember that day in the mountains when we first really came to know each other, when we walked many, many miles without dreaming of being tired?
Sterling. And found ourselves at sunset at the top instead of below, by our hotel! Oh, yes, I remember! The world changed for me that day.
[He sinks back into the arm-chair, overcome, in his weakened state, by his memories and his realization of what he has made of the present.
Blanche. And for me! I knew then for the first time you loved me, and that I loved you. Oh! how short life of a sudden seemed! Not half long enough for the happiness it held for me! [She turns upon him with a vivid change of feeling.] Has it turned out so?
Sterling. How different! Oh, what a beast! what a fool!
Blanche. [Speaking with pathetic emotion, tears in her throat and in her eyes.] And that early summer's day you asked me to be your wife! [She gives a little exclamation, half a sob, half a laugh.] It was in the corner of the garden; I can smell the lilacs now! And the raindrops fell from the branches as my happy tears did on father's shoulder that night, when I said, "Father, he will make me the happiest woman in the world!"
Sterling. O God! to have your love back!
Blanche. You can't breathe life back into a dead thing; how different the world would be if one could!
Sterling. You can bring back life to the drowned; perhaps your love is only drowned in the sorrow I've caused.
Blanche. [Smiles sadly and shakes her head; the smile dies away.] Life to me then was like a glorious staircase, and I mounted happy step after step led by your hand till everything seemed to culminate on the day of our wedding. You men don't, can't realize, what that service means to a girl. In those few moments she parts from all that have cherished her, made her life, and gives her whole self, her love, her body, and even her soul sometimes—for love often overwhelms us women—to the man who, she believes, wants, starves, for her gifts. All that a woman who marries for love feels at the altar I tell you a man can't understand! You treated this gift of mine, Dick, like a child does a Santa Claus plaything—for a while you were never happy away from it, then you grew accustomed to it, then you broke it, and now you have even lost the broken pieces!
Sterling. [Comes to her, growing more and more determined.] I will find them, and put them together again.
Blanche. [Again smiles sadly and shakes her head.] First we made of every Tuesday a festival—our wedding anniversary. After a while we kept the twenty-eighth of every month! The second year you were satisfied with the twenty-eighth of April only, and last year you forgot the day altogether. And yet what a happy first year it was!
Sterling. Ah, you see I did make you happy once!
Blanche. Blessedly happy! Our long silences in those days were not broken by an oath and a fling out of the room. Oh, the happiness it means to a wife to see it is hard for her husband to leave her in the morning, and to be taken so quickly—even roughly—into his arms at night that she knows he has been longing to come back to her. Nothing grew tame that first year. And at its end I climbed to the highest step I had reached yet, when you leaned over my bed and cried big man's tears, the first I'd ever seen you cry, and kissed me first, and then little Richard lying on my warm arm, and said, "God bless you, little mother." [There is a pause. Blanche cries softly a moment. Sterling is silent, ashamed. Again she turns upon him, rousing herself, but with a voice broken with emotion.] And what a bad father you've been to that boy!
Sterling. I didn't mean to! That's done, that's past, but Richard's my boy. I'll make him proud of me, somehow! I'll win your love back—you'll see!
[Blanche is about to speak in remonstrance, but stops because of the entrance of Leonard. He brings a small chemist's box of tablets in an envelope and a glass of water on a small silver tray.
Leonard. Your medicine, sir.
[He puts it on the table and goes out Right.
Sterling. Thank you, thank you!
[He takes the box of tablets out of the envelope.
Blanche. [Going to him.] You don't realize why I've told you all this!
Sterling. [Counting out the tablets.] One, two. To give me hope! To give me hope!
[He empties the other ten tablets into the envelope, twists it up, and throws it in the fireplace.
Blanche. No, no, just the opposite!
Sterling. Then you've defeated your end, dear; you will stay here with me.
Blanche. [Trying to make him realize the exact position.] Opposite you at the table, receiving our friends, keeping up appearances, yes—but nearer to you than that? No! Never!
Sterling. But you will stay?
[Leonard enters from Left.
Leonard. Miss Godesby, Mr. Warden.
[They enter.
[All greet each other. Warden nods stiffly to Sterling, barely acknowledging his greeting.
Miss Godesby. [To Sterling, purposely speaking with good-humored raillery to relieve the tension of the situation.] Well, you're a nice lot, aren't you?
Sterling. I'm so ashamed! I'm so ashamed!
Miss Godesby. Oh, never mind that now.
Blanche. I have no words to thank you with.
Miss Godesby. Oh, that's all right. The truth is, I've made Warden bring me here, Sterling, for a bit of business. I had an emotional moment yesterday and went off my head a bit. I stand by what I said as to keeping quiet, but—well, I'm like any other old maid who hates dust on her mantelpiece—I'm fidgety not to make some sort of a bluff at putting this thing on a business basis.
Warden. Excuse me, Miss Godesby, I think Sterling ought to know the truth.
Sterling. Now what?
Miss Godesby. Well, the truth is, my fool of a brother has kicked up an infernal row, and refuses to hold his tongue.
Sterling. Then I'm ruined after all!
Miss Godesby. Wait, I've left him with Mr. Mason. I feel certain I can assure his silence if I can only show him some sort of an agreement to pay, an acknowledgment of the—the—affair, signed and sealed.
Blanche. Signed by whom?
Miss Godesby. Your husband and yourself will do.
Sterling. But both names are worthless.
Miss Godesby. Not as a point of honor.
Sterling. Ah! no, not my wife's.
Miss Godesby. Nor yours to me. Come along!
[She goes to the table with Sterling, and unfolding a paper gives it to him. He signs it.
Warden. [Aside to Blanche, apologizing for his presence.] She made me come—she wouldn't come alone; otherwise I should have waited till you sent for me.
Blanche. It's as well—I've decided. Oh, I wonder if I'm doing wrong.
[Looking him straight in the face.
Warden. [Looking back searchingly in hers to read the truth, but believing that she will certainly leave her husband.] No, you can't do wrong! But I must warn you of one thing—I'm not any longer the controlled man I was.
Miss Godesby. Come along now, Mrs. Sterling, brace up and give me your name, and Warden, witness, please. [They do so.] Of course, my dears, I know perfectly well that legally this isn't worth the paper it's written on. [Exchanging a serious and meaning look with Warden.] But my idiot of a brother won't realize that, which is the point. One thing more—will you both dine with me next week, Thursday? [There is an embarrassed pause, which, with quick intuition, she understands.] Yes, you will—for silence gives consent! [Laughing.] Now, that's settled!
Sterling. What an awfully good sort you are!
Miss Godesby. Thanks, not always—I've been a mucker more than once in my life! I must go [Shaking hands with Blanche.] and relieve Mr. Mason of my brother, or he'll be accusing me of inhuman treatment; more than one consecutive hour of my brother ought to be prevented by the police.
Blanche. You are very, very good.
Miss Godesby. I think if you and I can get well over this, we'll be real friends, and I haven't many, have you?
Blanche. [Takes her hand.] You can count upon me and my boy so long as we live.
[She impulsively but tenderly kisses her.
[Miss Godesby is very much surprised, but moved.
Miss Godesby. [Half laughing, half crying, and pulling her veil down to hide her emotion.] By George! I haven't been kissed by a woman for years! Good-by.
[Warden starts to go out with Miss Godesby. Blanche stops him.
Blanche. Wait one moment—I want to speak alone to Miss Godesby.
[Miss Godesby goes out Left.
Blanche. [Aside to Sterling.] You tell him; I cannot. Tell him the truth.
[She goes out after Miss Godesby.
Warden. Dick.
Sterling. Ned?
Warden. I have nothing to say to you, Sterling.
[Warden looks away and whistles a tune to show his unwillingness to listen. Sterling speaks clearly so Warden shall hear.
Sterling. I have a message for you from my wife. [There is a second's pause. Warden stops whistling and turns and looks at Sterling.] She asks me to explain—to tell—to tell you a decision she has come to.
[There is another pause.
Warden. Yes?
[Anxious, at a supreme tension, and now a little alarmed as to the decision.
Sterling. She has decided not to leave my house.
Warden. [Adds.] Yet!
Sterling. Ever!
Warden. [Losing his control.] That's a lie!
Sterling. I couldn't believe it, either, when she told me. It was her first word to me to-day. I said, "You are going to divorce me," and she answered, "No."
Warden. She's sacrificing herself for some reason—her boy!
Sterling. Never mind, she won't leave me; I have her promise, and I'll win back her love!
Warden. You fool! You can't win her back! She would never have loved me if you hadn't disillusioned, dishonored her! I'm not worthy of her, but I'll never dishonor her, and, please God, never disappoint her, and so I'll keep her love.
Sterling. Well, as to that, she decides to stay, leaving love out of the question.
Warden. And you'll accept that sacrifice! You don't even love her. You're only thinking of yourself now. Love, real love, forgets itself. You, after having spoilt half her life, are willing to spoil the rest, for your own sake!
Sterling. No, for the boy's sake, and her sake—to save a scandal—the world—
[Interrupted.
Warden. [Beside himself.] Oh, damn the world! It's heaven and hell you'd better think of. Scandal! It couldn't harm her, and the hurt it would do you is a small price to pay. Those whom God has joined—yes! but it was the devil bound her to you!
Sterling. Here! I've had enough! Look out!
Warden. [Moves toward him.] You look out—you shan't rob her of her happiness. You—a drunkard! A forger! A thief!
Sterling. I'd keep her now if only to spite you!
Warden. Hah! There spoke the true man in you! Would to heaven the old days of duelling were back!
Sterling. A brave wish, as you know they're not!
Warden. They fight in other countries still for their love and honor, and I'm ready here, now, if you are, with any weapons you choose!
[Sterling sneers.]
Sneer! But will you fight? We'll find a place, and something to fight with, or fists if you'd rather! You wouldn't kill me before I'd got you out of her way for good. Will you fight?
[Coming closer to him.
Sterling. No!
Warden. [Getting more and more enraged.] If you lose, you go away, and set her free of your own will!
Sterling. No!
Warden. [Losing entirely his self-control.] What do you want to make you fight—will that?
[He gives him a stinging blow in the face.
Sterling. Yes!
[He springs toward Warden as Ruth and Mason enter Left. The two men stand rigid, Warden breathing heavily.
Ruth. Blanche, may I bring in—where's Blanche?
Sterling. I don't know.
Mason. Good morning, gentlemen.
[There is no response. Warden is with great difficulty restraining himself. His lips are compressed lightly and his hands clenched.
Ruth. What's the trouble?
Sterling. I have just told Warden my wife's decision not to leave me.
Ruth. [Showing her relief and satisfaction in her face, turns to Warden.] You won't try to shake that resolve?
Warden. [Unable to control himself.] But I will! I will—I tell you all! I hardly know what I say or do! But look out for me, I'm desperate! I'm a torrent that's only let loose since yesterday, and now all of a sudden you try to stop me! But it's too late; I've got my impetus; the repressed passion of years is behind me; nothing can stop me—and God keep me from doing the wrong thing! I am determined to clear him out of the way of the happiness of the woman I love. [To Ruth.] Do you mean to say you approve of her decision? [Ruth turns her head; he turns to Mason.] Do you?
Ruth. No.
Sterling. [To Ruth, holding out his hand.] You will stand by me, Aunt Ruth, and together we—
Ruth. [Interrupting and refusing his hand.] Oh, no.
Sterling. Don't you think I can win her love back?
Ruth. No.
Sterling. Won't you help me try?
Ruth. No. It would be useless.
Warden. Come with me to Blanche; I must speak with her.
[Warden and Ruth go out Right.
Mason. [Alone with Sterling.] Go away and make your wife understand you are never coming back.
Sterling. But the loneliness, the misery, away—alone.
Mason. Kill them with hard work; you have other heavy debts, you know. I came to see you about this business of your acknowledgments to Miss Godesby and Miss Hunter.
Sterling. Later, later. To-morrow I will decide—
[He motions him away. Mason goes to him and puts his hand on his shoulder.
Mason. Decide well—
[He hesitates a moment and then goes out Right.
Sterling. [Watching him go.] There's not one soul in this world who cares for me, and it's my own fault. [Richard is heard upstairs again singing "Once in Royal David's City." Sterling lifts his head and listens.] Yes, one little soul loves me, and it would be better for him, too, if I went away. I'll go to sleep and see how I feel about it when I wake up. [He moves the glass of water and takes out the box of tablets. He starts suddenly, but very slightly, and his muscles tighten.]
After all, why not end it all now, at once, without any more bother? [He looks in the box, and glances up questioningly; then he remembers the fireplace where he threw the other tablets and looks across the room at the logs. He rises, goes over, and sees in the fireplace the twisted envelope which holds the other tablets. He bends over to pick it up; he stops short.] No! Why shouldn't I try it, anyway? She, herself, gives me the chance! [He rings the electric bell, and walking away from the fireplace, takes up with a trembling hand the papers left by Mason; he wipes the damp from his forehead with his handkerchief. To Jordan, who enters Left.] Light the fire quickly; I feel cold.
[He sinks into the arm-chair, weak from the mental strain.
Leonard. It's very warm in the house, sir.
Sterling. Do as I tell you—light the fire.
Leonard. [Looking for matches on the mantel, finds the box empty.] There are no matches, sir; I must get one.
Sterling. No, don't go—here—here—
[He gives him a match from his own box. Leonard notices the trembling hand and suppressed excitement of Sterling, and involuntarily glances up, but quickly looks back to his work and strikes a match. The match goes out.
Leonard. I shall need another match, please, sir.
Sterling. [With one in his fingers taken from his match-box, he alters his mind.] I have no more. [He puts away his match-box.] Never mind the fire; get me a pint bottle of champagne.
Leonard. [With a surreptitious side glance of curiosity.] Very well, sir.
[He goes out Left.
Sterling. That was funny; that was very funny! I wonder if it was accident, or if there's such a thing as fatality. [He goes to the fireplace and picks up the twisted envelope.] If not now—perhaps some other time—who knows? [He thrusts the envelope in his vest pocket, and takes up the papers again from the table to look over them.] I can't read these things! [Throwing them down.] The words mean nothing to me!
[There is the sound outside of a cork being drawn. Leonard enters with the champagne and a glass and places them beside Sterling.
Leonard. Shall I light the fire now, sir?
Sterling. No, never mind now.
Leonard. Yes, sir.
[He goes out Left.
[Sterling half fills the glass with champagne. He takes out the box of tablets and counts aloud.
Sterling. One, two, three, four—[He puts all in the glass, dropping them as he counts. He hesitates, then quickly drops in two more and drinks quickly. The glass is empty. He sits by the table thinking a moment, then lakes a piece of paper and makes ready his stylographic pen.] Let me see; can I make it seem accidental; it would be so much less bother and trouble for them! [He thinks a second, then writes.] "I have accidentally taken an overdose of my sleeping draught. I have tried to call some one, but it's no use. I ask only one thing, that you forget all my sins, wipe out their memory with my name. I want my boy to change his name, too." [He hesitates a moment, and then scratches that sentence heavily out.] No, I won't say that. [He waits a moment.] God in heaven, what wouldn't I give for one friendly word just now! Some one to sort of say good-by to me—take my hand—even a servant!
[He looks about him, showing signs of drowsiness. The door Right bursts open. Sterling quickly hides the letter in his inside pocket as Warden comes in.
Warden. My hat! Where's my hat!
[He looks about for it.
Sterling. [Quietly.] Ned?
Warden. My hat, I say! Where's my hat?
[Looking.
Sterling. Ned!
[Something in his voice arrests Warden's attention.
Warden. What? [He looks at him.] What's the matter—
Sterling. Nothing—I'm half asleep, that's all—the reaction—I'm worn out and I've changed my mind—
Warden. How do you mean?
Sterling. I'm going away for good—that's the best I can do; I want you to forgive me—could you? What do you say? Forgive me for everything! For the sake of the old schoolboy days—
Warden. When are you going?
Sterling. To-day. Will you say good-by to me and wish me well on my journey?
Warden. [Speaks without sympathy.] You can count on me always to help you in any way I can. You can still retrieve a good deal if you're strong enough.
Sterling. I know what a beastly friend I've been, and yesterday was more than any man would stand, but forgive that, too, will you? I've always been a bad lot!
Warden. [Goes to him and speaks, with the sympathy of a man for a child coming into his voice.] No, a weak lot; that's been your ruin, Dickie. I'll see you again before you go.
Sterling. No, I'm going to sleep as long as I can now, and I don't want any one to wake me up; but when I do wake, I shall have other things to do. This is good-by.
Warden. Well, good luck! [He starts to go. The two men look at each other, and finally Sterling gets the courage to hold out his hand. Warden hesitates a moment, then shakes it.] Good luck!
[He goes out Left.
[Sterling, who has been growing more and more drowsy, as soon as he is alone, goes with difficulty to the door and locks it. He is so drowsy that he leans against the door for a moment; then he starts to go back to the table, but is unable to get there and sinks on the sofa half way between the table and the door. His eyes close, but suddenly he starts violently and tries to rise, but cannot, crying out faintly.
Sterling. Good God—the money! I forgot the money—who'll pay my debts? Ah, this is a fitting climax for my life—the weakest, dirtiest thing I've done—[He gets the letter from his pocket and holds it in his hand; the light of the afternoon grows slowly dim, like his fading sight and senses. He murmurs twice in a faint, drowsy voice.] Coward! Coward!
[Blanche, in the hall outside Right, calls his name.
Blanche. Dick!
[Sterling's body relaxes and sets. The letter drops from his lifeless hands.
[Blanche enters with Ruth, followed by Richard, who rides a stick with a horse's head and wears a soldier's cap.
Richard. Merry Christmas, father!
Blanche. [Going toward the sofa.] Dick!
Richard. Merry Christmas, father!
Blanche. Sh! Father's asleep.
[They steal back toward the other door when Warden enters Right.
Warden. Oh, you are here! I went down into the drawing-room where I left you.
Blanche. Sh!
[She points to Sterling, who lies apparently asleep. They speak in lowered voices.
Warden. Yes, I have a message for you from him.
[Looking at Richard and Ruth.
Ruth. [Who understands.] Come, Richard, I haven't seen your tree yet.
[She goes out Right with Richard.
Warden. [To Blanche.] Give me your hand.
[She does so wonderingly.
Warden. [Softly, with a man's tenderness in his voice.] He is going away for good.
Blanche. Away?
Warden. For good.
Blanche. [Slowly, withdrawing her hand.] For good? [She looks over toward Sterling, and then back to Warden.] What does he mean?
Warden. We will know when he wakes.
THE CURTAIN STEALS SOFTLY DOWN