Clara, (l.) Ah, Allen, don’t keep speaking kindly to me. Don’t think kindly of me. Despise me—I can bear that—I am used to it. (Sits at cabinet.)
ALLEN. (r.c. next to Clara.) No, lass, I can’t do that. I shall alius think kindly of thee. I’ve loved thee too well to change now—because I knows thy lot’s harder than I thought it wur.
CLARA. (Turns and looks at Allen.) Try not to think of me at all, Allen—I am not worth it—forget me. There is one who loves you better than I could ever do, and who is good and pure. (Rises.) You men never see the love that is under your feet—you reach only for what is beyond you. Go back to her, Allen. She will make you a better wife than I could ever have done. (Allen at back of Clara up stage R.)
ALLEN. (After a pause.) Who—who is this man—your husband?
CLARA. Luke Cranbourne! (She does not look at Allen.)
ALLEN. Luke Cranbourne! (Looks nervously at door c. and then at clock—then crosses to door and stands near it. He assumes to do this naturally and not to let Clara notice his anxiety.)
CLARA. We were married secretly before he left for America. Not even my father knew it until a day or two ago.
ALLEN. And do you care for him? (Allen at door c.)
CLARA. With such love as a woman can feel without respect. He was the first that I can remember ever speaking a kind word to me. He is the only human being I have to cling to—and he is good to me in his way. (Looks up at Allen.) I don’t expect we shall ever see each other again. For your sake, I wish we had never met—for myself, my life will always seem a bit brighter for the love that an honest man once had for me.
ALLEN. (Taking her hand in his.) Good-bye—if ever thee wants a friend, Allen Rollitt, Woodbarrow Farm, Exmoor, will find him. (Kissing her on the forehead.) God bless thee, Clara!