SCENE III.
A narrow defile or pass between high mountains. The light is dim. The pass winds irregularly, and is often rough, but is always upwards. The scenery is unearthly. No sign of life is to be seen. A distant storm can be heard.
Enter Dr. Thorne (slowly, holding a
staff; he is robed in purple, a flowing
garment, not unlike a talith or a toga.
His face, still pale, is heavily lined;
but more with anxiety than with resentment;
its expression is somewhat
softer. He speaks).
Dr. Thorne. I wonder what is to be done with me next? I see no particular reason for climbing these mountains. There seems to be nothing for a dead man to do but to obey orders. Well (candidly), I’ve given my share of them in my time. I suppose it’s fair enough to turn about and take a few—now. (He smiles. After a pause, climbing slowly.) I must say I can’t call this an attractive country—so far. Its main features are not genial.
(The storm increases; there is thunder and cloud.)
Dr. Thorne (looking about). It seems to be in the cyclonic belt. There’s a storm of some sort,—I should say two of them fighting up in these hills. Hear them close and clinch! Like a man’s two natures; civil war all the time. And no truce! (Muses.) It’s not a social region, certainly. I don’t know that I recall, really, ever being in a place that was so desolate. There isn’t so much as a wild animal, nor a bird flying over. It reminds me of—what was it? I can’t recall the words. It seems to me my mother taught them to me when I was a little lad. But they have quite gone. Beautiful literature in that old Book! It’s a good while since I’ve dipped into it. I’ve had too much to do. What was it?
“Though I walk—When I walk”—
(He breaks off; climbs stoutly. The storm darkens down. For the first time Dr. Thorne’s face expresses something like alarm. He looks about like a man who would call for help, but is too proud to do so. He speaks.)
This is really growing serious. I wish I could remember those words. Now I think of it, we were on our knees. A most unnatural posture! My mother was a sweet saint,—rest her pure spirit! (It lightens as he says this.)
Voices from beyond (softly chanting).
“And when I’m lost in deep despair
Be thou with me....
Until life’s daylight ended be,
Be thou with me, with me.”
Dr. Thorne (lifts his head to listen). There’s a good musical taste in this country, at all events. That’s something. What were those words? Ah, I have it.
“Though I walk through the Valley of the Shadow
Thou shalt be with me.”
It went in some such way. (Repeats perplexedly.)
“Thou shalt be with me?”
(Sadly.) A beautiful superstition.
(The storm comes on heavily, with darkness and lightning. Through the gloom his solitary form can be seen manfully climbing. He exhibits no panic, but his evident bewilderment grows upon him. He mutters.)
The desolation of desolations! I shall be glad when I get out of it. What solitude! Of all the people I have known—dead or living—there is not one to stay by me.
Voices from beyond.
“Be Thou near him!”
Enter, on the pass above him, a young
girl repeating prayers on a rosary.
She is a plain, unattractive girl, folded
in a dull gray gown that wraps her
loosely. Her face is earnest and devout.
Dr. Thorne. Why, Norah!
Norah (looking back). Oh, it is the Doctor.
Dr. Thorne. I can’t overtake you, Norah.
Norah. And I’ve only died the day.
Dr. Thorne. But you’ve got the start of me, Norah. You are higher up. I am glad to see you, Norah (eagerly). But I can’t reach you.
Norah (holds down her hand). Come up, Doctor! Come up! I’ll help you, Doctor.
Dr. Thorne (gratefully). Thank you, Norah.
Norah. It’s to Purrgatory I’d be goin’. But you’re the herretic, Doctor. Which way do you be goin’?
Dr. Thorne (shakes his head). I don’t know, Norah. You are wiser than I am—in this foreign place.
Norah (holds down her hand). The dear Doctor! Ye were that kind to me, Doctor,—at the hospital, and forninst the house where I was worrkin’. It’s niver a cint I had to pay yez for yer thruble. If I’d been a pretty lady with a purrse of gold, ye never could have put yerself about more than ye did for the likes of me. It’s not meself that would have died the day if you’d been there. Doctor? Would yez mind, if I should—bless you, Doctor? There’s kindness onto kindness, and mercy goin’ after mercy that ye did me, all hidin’ in a poor girrl’s heart to rise and meet you here. I was sick an’ ye did visit me.
Dr. Thorne (melting). When did I ever show you all that kindness, Norah? I don’t remember—
Norah. And I don’t forget. Take my hand, now, Doctor, do. It must be lonesome down below there by yersel’. (Touches her rosary. Her lips move in prayer.)
Dr. Thorne (climbing on, grasps Norah’s hand). Thank you, Norah (gently).
(There is a lull in the storm. It grows lighter.)
(Dr. Thorne and the Irish girl climb on together silently.)
(It brightens at the brow of the mountain. Dim outlines of figures are faintly seen at the summit. They waver, and melt away.)
Dr. Thorne (gradually loosening his hold of Norah’s hand, speaks, but not to Norah, bitterly). Now stop a moment. Where will all this end? Rebelling, I obey; and obeying, I rebel. I am become what we used to call a spirit. And this is what it means! Better might one become a molecule, for those at least express the Laws of the Universe, and do not suffer. I don’t incline to go any higher. (Drops back.) Every step is taking me further away from my wife.
Norah (anxiously). Doctor? Doctor! (She climbs on, but looks back, beckoning.)
Dr. Thorne (pays no attention to Norah. Retraces his steps down the narrow path). Come what may, I will not go any further from Helen. I’ll perish first, in this unearthly place. (He continues to descend; stands lost in thought. The storm darkens round him, but lightens beyond him. At the summit dim outlines can be seen again. These brighten faintly.)
(Norah reaches her arms towards them; climbs on.)
Dr. Thorne. It was something to be in the same world with Helen. (Muses.) Oh, hot in my anger I went from her. And cold, indeed, did I return. (Still descending.) I will go back. I will get as near the old system of things as I can. I will not put another span of space between myself and Helen. Poor, poor girl!
(Dr. Thorne, doggedly descending, does not look up.)
(White-robed forms at the summit brighten. Arms are stretched downwards through a mist. Hands beckon. One of them reaches down and clasps Norah’s hand; draws her up.)
Norah (looking back). Doctor!
(Norah vanishes.)
(The pass grows dark. Figures at the summit dim.)
(Enter, from a darkness in the mountains,
the Woman in flame-color. Her ashen
mantle is now thrown back, but still
clings to her. She stands mournfully
regarding Dr. Thorne. She does not
address him, but slowly extends her
arms.)
(Dr. Thorne does not observe the Woman. She does not obtrude herself upon his attention.)
[Exit the Woman into the darkness
whence she came.
Dr. Thorne (with frowning face descends; he murmurs). And a few days ago I was troubled because I had lost a few thousand dollars in Santa Ma.... I saved up money! (Scornfully.) I would accumulate a fortune. Oh, the whole of it, ten hundred thousand-fold the whole of it, for one hour in a dead man’s desolated home! (Pushes downwards, suddenly and silently.)
Enter Azrael, Angel of Death. (The
pass blackens. The mountain summit
is wrapped in darkness.)
(Azrael stands tall and resplendent. He is a white-robed figure, winged and powerful. The light falls only upon Azrael and upon the man. It can be seen that this gleam comes from a sword held in the hand of the Angel. Without a word he lifts the flaming sword, and with it bars the narrow pass from side to side.)
Dr. Thorne (in a ringing voice). Azrael!
(Azrael does not reply.)
Dr. Thorne (under his breath). Azrael, Angel of Death! (Falls back.)
(The two figures confront each other in silence. Dr. Thorne desperately flings himself towards the Angel. Without a touch he is beaten back. Azrael stands immovable. His face grows solemn with pity. Dr. Thorne retreats; advances again; raises his staff, and strikes it upon the Angel’s sword. The staff flames up, burns, and drops to ashes on the ground.)
(Dr. Thorne recedes a few steps; shades his eyes with his hands; regards the Angel blindly; wavers, turns. Slowly, with bent figure, he weakly reascends the mountain; stumbles and falls; regains his footing; climbs on alone, and now without his staff; does not look back.)
(Azrael stands immovable, with drawn sword.)
Voices from beyond (sing so softly that they seem rather to be breathing than singing):—
“The night is dark, and I am far from home,
Lead Thou me on ...
O’er moor and fen, o’er crag and torrent, till
The night is gone,
And with the morn those angel faces smile,
Which I have loved long since, and lost a while.”
(As they sing the summit mellows slowly. No figures appear. At the brow of the mountain a single gleam of light pierces the gloom. It brightens rather than broadens. It has the color of dawn.)
(Azrael fades away, the sword vanishing last.)
(Dr. Thorne climbs up, with eyes lifted towards the light on the summit, which strikes his face and figure.)
As the Voices sing:—
“And with the morn those angel faces smile,
Which I have loved long since, and lost a while.”
End of Act II.