Sue—Go ahead. I want you to read it. [He reaches in his pocket for his spectacles. Sue continues gratefully.] As if I could have any secrets from you after all you’ve done for us since Ma died. You’ve been the only friend—— [She stops, her lips trembling.]
Doctor—Tut-tut. [He adjusts his spectacles and peers at her over them.] Who wouldn’t be of all the service he could to a brave girl like you—and I who’ve known you since you were so high! Eh, well, my dear girl, this past year—with your mother’s death—the state your father’s in—and then the news of the schooner being reported lost—one damn thing on top of another! You’ve borne the whole brunt of it on your shoulders and stood up like a major. I’ll tell Danny when he comes he ought to get down on his knees and thank God for getting such a wife!
Sue—[Flushing.] You’re too good. I don’t deserve it. It was just a case where someone had to carry things on.
Doctor—Not many could have stood it—living in this house with him the way he is—even if he was their father.
Sue—[Glancing up at the skylight—apprehensively.] Ssshh! He might hear you.
Doctor—[Listening intently.] Not him. There he goes pacing up and down up there in the night, looking out to sea for that ship that will never come back! And your brother Nat is getting just as bad. [Shaking himself.] Brrr! This house of mad dreams! It’s the crowning wonder to me you haven’t lost your balance too—spending nearly all of your time in this crazy cabin—afraid to go out—afraid of what he might do——
Sue—Don’t you think Pa’ll come to realize the schooner is lost as time goes by and she doesn’t come back?
Doctor—If he was going to realize that, the report of the facts five months ago would have convinced him. There it was, plain as the nose on your face. British freighter reports finding derelict schooner. Steams near enough to read the name on the stern—Sarah Allen, Harborport. Well, who could get around that evidence except a man with an obsession? No, your father won’t let himself look the facts in the face. If he did, probably the shock of it would kill him. That darn dream of his has become his life. No, Susan, as time goes on he’ll believe in it harder and harder. After observing him for the past year—and I speak for his own sake, too, as his good friend for twenty years or more—my final advice is the same: Send him to an asylum.
Sue—[With a shudder.] No, Doctor.
Doctor—[Shaking his head.] You’ll have to come to it in time. He’s getting worse. No one can tell—he might get violent——