Within the Gates

by Elizabeth Stuart Phelps

SCENE III.

Picturesquely visible among the trees of a grove appears a small, rustic cottage, curiously interwoven of bark, vines, boughs, leaves, and flowers—a building which seems to have grown from the conditions and the colors of the grove. The sea and the sails show beyond, through the trees. In the distant perspective can be seen the city on the hill; in the intervale, the foliage, flowers, fields, as before.

The hour approaches sunset. A deep rich glow mellows and melts the outlines of every object.

(Spirits pass and repass in the distance.)

Enter Dr. Thorne and Harvey, conversing
in low tones.

Enter Norah and Jerry.

Jerry. The brim of the avenin’ to yez, Doctor! Och! but this is a foine counthree now.

Norah (happily). Me father is getting acquainted here.

Jerry. I’m about to discover where the ... angels ... I’m at.

Dr. Thorne (smiling). You’ve got ahead of me then, Jerry.

[Exeunt Norah and Jerry.

Dr. Thorne (to Harvey). And why, for instance, was I directed or allowed to take that astronomical tour before I had investigated my immediate surroundings?

Harvey. A patient may ask questions. In your experience, did you always answer them?

Enter Laddie (running after his father,
whose hand he hurries to catch and
clasp).

Dr. Thorne (pointing to the architecture beyond). And those public buildings yonder—what do you call them?

Harvey. Those are our institutions of education and of mercy. They are a great pleasure to us. We have our temples, colleges, music halls, libraries, schools of science, hospitals, galleries of art, as a matter of course. What did you suppose we did with our intellects and our leisure?

Dr. Thorne. I never supposed anything on the subject. I never thought about it.

Harvey. Precisely. You are very ignorant—for a man of your gifts. Now, our hospitals—

Dr. Thorne. Pray do not mock me, Doctor Harvey. If you had a hospital, you could find me something to do. The humiliating idleness of this place crushes me. I seem to be of no more use here than a paralytic patient was in my own charity ward at home. I am become of no more social importance than the janitor or the steward used to be. I am of no consequence. I am not in demand. No person desires my services. The canker of idleness eats upon me. Here, in this world of spirits, I am an unscientific, useless fellow. If you have anything whatever in the shape of a hospital, I beg you to find me employment in it. At least, I could keep the temperature charts, if I am not to be trusted with any cases.

Harvey (smiling sadly). Your cure proceeds but slowly, my patient. I did not think you were a dull man. Must you be taught the elements? Our sick are not of the body, but are sick of soul. Our patients are chiefly from among the newly arrived who are at odds with the spirit of the place; hence, they suffer discomfort. Can you administer holiness to a will and heart diseased?

(Dr. Thorne shakes his head; bows it in bitter silence. He stands lost in thought. As he does so, sunset deepens to twilight on the land. Laddie drops his father’s hand; plays among the annunciation lilies. Harvey, with a courtly salute, retires. He does not speak further to Dr. Thorne.)

[Exit Harvey.

Laddie (breaks one of the tall lily-stalks—gently, for a boy. As he does so, the cup opens, and a little white bird flies out, hangs poised in the air a moment). Oh, the beautiful! (Catches the bird, which he handles tenderly.) Papa! Papa! I went to pick a lily, and I picked a bird! Oh, Papa, what a pretty country!

Dr. Thorne (smiling in spite of himself). Come here, my lad. (Caresses the child with pathetic gratitude.) If it were not for you, little man— (Bows his face on the child’s head.)

(The twilight changes slowly to moonlight.)

Laddie (restlessly). I must go find Maidie and show her my white bird. They didn’t grow in her street.

Dr. Thorne (anxiously). Don’t go far, my child. You might lose your way.

Laddie (with a peal of laughter). We never lose our way in this nice country.

[Exit Laddie.

(Dr. Thorne paces the path desolately; does not speak. As the moonlight brightens, groups of spirits stroll among the fields and trees. These walk often two by two. They are, and yet are not, like earthly lovers. They murmur softly, and express delight to be together; and some of them go hand in hand, or with arms intertwined. But a beautiful reserve pervades their behavior. Faintly from beyond arise the strains of the Serenade of Schubert’s, played with extreme softness and refinement, but with a depth of emotion which carries the heart before it. Dr. Thorne listens to the music. The sails quiver on the distant water, and faint figures can be seen moving on the beach. The passion flowers salute each other. The great Serenade plays on.)

Enter Mrs. Fayth. (Her smiling face
is grave, or even a little sad. She is
moved by the music, and seems to sway
towards it. Dr. Thorne holds out
his hand to her. Mrs. Fayth extends
her own, confidingly. The two stand
listening to the music, like comrades
bereft of other ties; on her face rests
a frank, affectionate expression; on
his a desolate leaning towards the
nearest sympathy. They glance at
the spirits who are strolling two by
two through the celestial evening. The
music is suspended.)

Dr. Thorne (moodily). This foreign country would be lonelier without you, Mary Fayth.

Mrs. Fayth (frankly). Of course it would!... It is a lovely thing that we died together.... It has been a comfort to me, Doctor.

Dr. Thorne. And to me.... Helen would be pleased.... Helen might like to have it so, I’ve thought ... if she thinks of me at all.

Mrs. Fayth (quickly). She thinks of nothing but you ... all the time.

Dr. Thorne (eagerly). How do you know? Have you been there? Can you see Helen?

Mrs. Fayth (mysteriously smiling). Don’t ask me!...

Dr. Thorne (imperiously). When was it? How did you get there? How did she look?—Is she well?—Did she look very wretched? Were her lips pale? Or only her cheeks? Does she weep much? Can she sleep?—Is she living quite alone?—Oh, how does she bear it? (He trips upon his words, and stops abruptly.)

(A strain from the Serenade breathes, and sighs away.)

Mrs. Fayth (gently but evasively). My poor friend!

(Dr. Thorne and Mrs. Fayth unclasp hands, and stand side by side, silently in the moonlight. A certain remoteness overtakes their manner. Each is drowned in thought in which the other has no share. The Serenade is heard again. Mrs. Fayth, with a mute, sweet gesture of farewell, glides gravely away. Dr. Thorne does not seek to detain her.)

[Exit Mrs. Fayth.

(The Serenade plays on steadily.)

Dr. Thorne (puts his hands to his ears, as if to shut out the music, which falls very faintly as he speaks). Between herself and me the awful gates of death have shut. To pass them—though I would die again to do it—to pass them for one hour, for one moment, for love’s sake, for grief’s sake—or for pity’s own—I am forbidden. (Breaks off.) ... Her forgiveness! Her forgiveness! The longing for it gnaws upon me.... Oh, her unfathomable tenderness—passing the tenderness of women!—It would lean out and take me back to itself, as her white arms took me to her heart—when I came home—after a hard day’s work—tired out.... Helen! Helen!

(The music strengthens as he ceases to speak; then faints again.)

Dr. Thorne (moans). For very longing for her, I would fain forget her.... No! No! No! (Starts.) Never would I forget her! To all eternity would I think of her and suffer, if I must, because I think of her.... I ... love her ... so.

(The Serenade ceases slowly, and sighs away.)

(Dr. Thorne stands with the moonlight on his face. It is rapt, and carries a certain majesty.)

(Spirits pass. Some of them glance at him, with wonder and respect. No one addresses him. He stands like a statue of strong and noble solitude. He does not perceive the presence of any spirit.)

Enter The Child. (Runs to his father.
Springs into his arms.)

The Child. Lonesome, Papa? I will comfort you.

Dr. Thorne (clasps the boy, who seems half-overcome with sleepiness. Lays him gently on the grass). Go to sleep, my child. It is growing late. (Laddie drops asleep.)

Dr. Thorne (continues to speak, for his emotion bears him on). I did not expect to live when I was dead. I lived—I died—and yet I live. I did not think that love would live when breath was gone. I loved—I blasphemed love—I breathed my last—and still I love. If this be true—anything may be true— (breaks off). God! It may be years before I can see her face—twenty years—thirty— (groaning)—Whence came the love of man and woman, that it should outlive the laws of Nature, and defy dissolution, and outlast the body, and curse or bless the spirit? If love can live, anything can live. Since this is—anything may be— (Falters; glances about; finds himself quite alone with the sleeping child; lifts his eyes to the sky, and then his hands; stands irresolute. Then slowly, reluctantly, still standing manfully upright, with a touching embarrassment.)

Dr. Thorne (prays). Almighty God!—if there be a God Almighty. Reveal thyself to my immortal soul!—if I have a soul immortal.

. . . . . . . . . . . . .

(The moonlight fades into a dark midnight. The figure of Dr. Thorne disappears in it.)

(Dawn comes on subtly, but at once, for the nights and days of Paradise are not governed by the laws of earth, and day breaks splendidly over the heavenly world.)

Enter the Two Children (playing with
flowers, and tasting fruit).

Laddie. How did you like coasting down that waterfall on rainbows?

Maidie. I want that butterfly—with fire on it.

Laddie. Don’t be stupid, because you’re dead! That is a flower. (Picks a flower in the shape of a butterfly with jeweled wings; hands it to the girl.) No, it won’t fly. It isn’t grown up yet.

Maidie. Shall I fly when I’m grown up? I’ve got wings, too. (Shows her feet, on the heels of which a tiny pair of wings appear.)

Laddie (jealously). I didn’t know you had them. That’s why you can jump over things and get ahead of me.

Enter Dr. Thorne and Mrs. Fayth.

Mrs. Fayth. Doctor, I don’t know what ails me. Perhaps it’s a symptom—a moral symptom—but I can’t help thinking of Cleo. I wonder—

Dr. Thorne (with reserve). I do not care to speak of the woman.

Mrs. Fayth. You are right. But I did not mean to be wrong. (I think it must have been a symptom.) It’s the first time I’ve felt nervous since I died. I beg your pardon.

Laddie (running to meet them). Papa! Maidie’s got wings on her feet. Why don’t I have some? Papa! Papa! Come into your new house. It grew up out of the woods—like—like acorns.

Dr. Thorne (addressing Mrs. Fayth, looking towards the cottage). It is a shelter for the child, at all events. Quite in accordance with my present social position in this place—a mere cottage—but it makes him a home, poor little fellow!

Mrs. Fayth. It’s just what Helen would like. She hates palaces.

Dr. Thorne (starts as if stabbed; makes no reply).

Laddie (suddenly). Oh, Papa, Mrs. Fayth’s got wings on her feet, too. Her dress covers them up. I like her better than I did that lady you were so cross to.

Mrs. Fayth (laughing). I am so well!—oh, so well! I am a-shamed to be so happy! I walk on air. I float on clouds. I move on waves. All nature seems to be under my feet, and her glory in my heart.... Poor Doctor! (Breaks off and looks at him with quick sympathy.) And yet I tru-ly think you im-prove in spirits. You don’t look armed to the teeth, all the time—now.

Dr. Thorne (smiles cheerfully). A man must respect law, whatever state he is in. I would conform to the customs of this place, so far as I can. I would do this for the boy’s sake, at least. I don’t wish to be a disgrace to him in this system of things.

Mrs. Fayth. Does Doctor Harvey treat you by scien-ti-fic ev-olu-tion? That’s a man’s way. It’s a pretty slow one.

Laddie (insistently). Papa, she has got wings on her feet.

Mrs. Fayth (blushing). Go away and play, children.

(The children run to the cottage. The little girl bounds before, with a light, flying motion. They play in the cottage at “keeping house,” running in and out.)

(Suddenly a change takes place upon the landscape. Its colors soften and melt. Flying tints, like light broken through many prisms, float upon the white flowers, rest upon the annunciation lilies, and delicately touch the white robe of Mrs. Fayth. In fact, the whole atmosphere takes on the appearance of a vast rainbow. Music from the temple sounds clearly.)

Voices (can be heard singing):—

“Thou that takest away the
Sins of the world!”

Mrs. Fayth (starts with a listening, devout expression). Do you hear that?... Oh, watch, Doctor! Watch for what will happen!

(Spirits can be seen suddenly moving from all directions. They hurry, and exhibit signs of joyful excitement. The singing continues; repeats:—

“Thou that takest away the
Sins of the world!”)

(Now over the brilliant landscape falls a long, sharp, strange shadow. It is seen to be the shadow of a mighty cross, which, if raised upright, would seem to reach from earth to heaven. The children run back from the cottage.)

Laddie. Papa! who is worship? Is it a kind of game? Papa, what is Lord? Is it people’s mother? What is it for?

Dr. Thorne (with embarrassment). Alas, my boy, your father is not a learned man.

Laddie (imperiously). Teach me that pretty song! I cannot sing it. All the other children can—

Voices (chanting):—

“Thou givest,
Thou givest,
Eternal life!”

Dr. Thorne (sadly). My son, I cannot sing it, either.

Laddie (with reproach, and with a certain dignity). Father, I wish you were a learned man. (Walks away from his father; goes up the path. The little girl follows him.)

(The evidences of public excitement increase visibly. From every part of the country spirits can be seen moving, with signs of acute pleasure. Some hasten towards the Temple; others gather in groups in the roads and paths; all present a reverent but joyful aspect.)

Mrs. Fayth (gliding away). I cannot lose a moment. (Beckons to Dr. Thorne as she moves out of the grove and up the path. Calls.) Doctor! Doctor!

Dr. Thorne (shakes his head). I do not understand.

(Mrs. Fayth remains still full in sight, standing as if to watch a pageant or to see the prominent figure of a procession.)

(Laddie runs on beyond her, watching eagerly; shades his eyes with his little hand.)

(Maidie flits along with him.)

(Dr. Thorne stands quite alone. He, too, shades his eyes with his hand, and scans the horizon and the foreground closely.)

(The shadow of the great cross falls upon him where he stands.)

(It can now be seen that the happy people beyond give evidence of greeting some one who is passing by them. Some weep for joy; others laugh for rapture. Some stretch their arms out as if in ecstasy. Some throw themselves on the ground in humility. Some seem to be entreating a benediction. But the figure of Him who passes by them remains invisible. The excitement now increases, and extends along the group of spirits until it reaches those in the foreground. Here can now be seen and recognized some old patients of Dr. Thorne’s—Mrs. True, Norah, and Jerry.)

(These wear the golden cross upon the breast. Harvey enters unnoticed, and mingles with the crowd. He stands behind Mrs. Fayth, who remains rapt and mute, full in the light. She has forgotten Dr. Thorne.)

(Dr. Thorne watches the scene with pathetic perplexity. He does not speak.)

(The chanting continues, and the strain swells louder.)

(Now the Invisible Figure makes the impression of having reached the nearer groups.)

(Norah falls upon her knees.)

(Jerry salutes respectfully, as if he recognized a dear and honored employer whom he wished to serve and please.)

(Mrs. True reaches out her arms with reverent longing.)

(Maidie kisses her little hands to the Unseen.)

(Harvey stands devoutly with bowed head.)

(Mrs. Fayth holds out both hands lovingly. Then she sinks to the ground upon her knees and makes the delicate motion of one who puts to her lips the edge of the robe of the Unseen Passer. Her whole expression is rapturous.)

(Laddie, breaking away from his elders, now boldly steps out into the path. He looks up; shades his eyes, as if from a brilliance; then confidingly puts out his hand, as if he placed it in an Unseen Hand, and walks along, smiling like a child who is led by One whom he trusts and loves.)

Dr. Thorne (in distress). I see nothing!—No one! I am blind—blind!

(Chanting.)

“Thou that takest away
The sins of the world!” ...

(Dr. Thorne covers his face. The music ceases. The air grows dimmer than twilight. But there is no moon, nor is it dark. The groups in the foreground move away in quiet happiness, like those who have had their heart’s wish granted.)

(Harvey, Mrs. True, Norah, Jerry, and Maidie mingle with the other spirits.)

(Mrs. Fayth rises from her knees; melts slowly in the dusk.)

(Laddie runs into the grove, and disappears in the gloom. He acts as if looking for some one.)

Dr. Thorne (remains alone. He paces the grove, irresolute—then suddenly turns in the direction whence the Invisible had come; walks uncertainly up the path; searches, as if for signs of the Passer; examines the grass, the shrubbery; touches the flowers, to see if they had bent beneath His feet; stoops; examines the pathway reverently; speaks in a low tone). The footprint! I have found the footprint! There was One passing. And He stepped here. But I was blind! (Hesitates; lifts his face to the sky; drops it to his breast; murmurs inarticulately. Then slowly—as if half his nature battled with the other half, and every fibre of his being yielded hard—he drops upon his knees. He remains silent in this posture.)

(From the depth of the grove behind Dr. Thorne’s cottage,)

Enter Cleo stealthily. (She watches
Dr. Thorne with an expression in
which love, fear, reproach, and astonishment
contend. She makes no
sign, nor in any way is her presence
revealed to Dr. Thorne. Taking a
few steps forward, she touches the
shadow of one arm of the mighty
cross. Cleo retreats in confusion.)
Enter The Child (running down the
path). Papa! Papa! (Points up the
path. Beckons to his father. Points
ecstatically.) Look, look, Papa!

(Dr. Thorne arises to his full height; looks where The Child points.)

(Slowly and solemnly,)

Enter Jesus the Christ. (Our Lord
appears as a majestic figure, melting
of outline, divine of mien, with arms
outstretched in benediction.)

(Cleo at sight of the Sacred Figure wrings her hands in anguish, and makes as if she would flee; but remains gazing at the Vision, as if compelled by forces unknown to her. As the Vision draws nearer, Cleo drops upon her face. Her long hair covers her. All her contours blur into the increasing shadow. The scene is now quite dark, except for the light which falls from the Person of Our Lord. This shall fully reveal The Man, who falls at the feet of the Vision, and The Child, who stands entranced, with his little arms around his father’s neck.)

Dr. Thorne (lifts his hands rapturously). I was blind—But, now, I see! (Accepts and remains in the attitude of worship as manfully as he had refused it.)

(The Sacred Figure stirs, as if to meet the kneeling man; slowly dims, melts, and fades; vanishes.)

End of Scene III.