Michael and His Lost Angel: A Play in Five Acts

by Henry Arthur Jones

MICH. I’ve one or two suspicions. However, the great fact is that I have it all, and can set my architects to work.

FATHER H. Michael—I was asking Andrew just now, there is something troubling you?

MICH. No—no. What makes you think that?

FATHER H. You are not yourself. (Pause.) Is it anything where I can be of help?

MICH. There is nothing. (Pause.) There has been something. But it is past. (FATHER HILARY looks grave.) You need have no fear for me.

(Holding out hand.)

FATHER H. (takes his hand, holds it for a long while, looks gravely at him). If you should ever need a deeper peace than you can find within or around you, come to me in Italy.

MICH. But I am at peace now. (Restlessly, pushing his hand through hair, then a little querulously.) I am at peace now. (FATHER HILARY shakes his head.) You think you can give me that deeper peace?

FATHER H. I know I can.