Mrs. Thorne. There is no one here. (Weeping.) There is nothing here. (She shuts the door slowly and reluctantly; remembers the shawl, which she draws in with her.)
(Dr. Thorne clings to the shawl in vain. Moaning, he kisses the doorsteps of his own home where the garment had touched them.)
End of Scene II.
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”—