The Fourth Series Plays | Page 8

him harm.
STRANGWAY. [Turning away] God!--if there be one help me! [He
stands leaning his forehead against the window. Suddenly his glance
falls on the little bird cage, still lying on the window-seat] Never cage
any wild thing! [He gives a laugh that is half a sob; then, turning to the
door, says in a low voice] Go! Go please, quickly! Do what you will. I
won't hurt you--can't----But--go! [He opens the door.]
BEATRICE. [Greatly moved] Thank you!
[She passes him with her head down, and goes out quickly.
STRANGWAY stands unconsciously tearing at the little bird-cage.
And while he tears at it he utters a moaning sound. The terrified
MERCY, peering from behind the curtain, and watching her chance,
slips to the still open door; but in her haste and fright she knocks
against it, and STRANGWAY sees her. Before he can stop her she has
fled out on to the green and away.]
[While he stands there, paralysed, the door from the house is opened,

and MRS. BURLACOMBE approaches him in a queer, hushed way.]
MRS. BURLACOMBE. [Her eyes mechanically fixed on the twisted
bird-cage in his hands] 'Tis poor Sue Cremer, zurr, I didn't 'ardly think
she'd last thru the mornin'. An' zure enough she'm passed away!
[Seeing that he has not taken in her words] Mr. Strangway-- yu'm
feelin' giddy?
STRANGWAY. No, no! What was it? You said----
MRS. BURLACOMBE. 'Tes Jack Cremer. His wife's gone. 'E'm in a
terrible way. 'Tes only yu, 'e ses, can du 'im any gude. He'm in the
kitchen.
STRANGWAY. Cremer? Yes! Of course. Let him----
MRS. BURLACOMBE. [Still staring at the twisted cage] Yu ain't
wantin' that--'tes all twizzled. [She takes it from him] Sure yu'm not
feelin' yer 'ead?
STRANGWAY. [With a resolute effort] No!
MRS. BURLACOMBE. [Doubtfully] I'll send 'im in, then. [She goes.
When she is gone, Strangway passes his handkerchief across his
forehead, and his lips move fast. He is standing motionless when
CREMER, a big man in labourer's clothes, with a thick, broad face, and
tragic, faithful eyes, comes in, and stands a little in from the elosed
door, quite dumb.]
STRANGWAY. [After a moment's silence--going up to him and laying
a hand on his shoulder] Jack! Don't give way. If we give way--we're
done.
CREMER. Yes, zurr. [A quiver passes over his face.]
STRANGWAY. She didn't. Your wife was a brave woman. A dear
woman.
CREMER. I never thought to luse 'er. She never told me 'ow bad she
was, afore she tuk to 'er bed. 'Tis a dreadful thing to luse a wife, zurr.
STRANGWAY. [Tightening his lips, that tremble] Yes. But don't give
way! Bear up, Jack!
CREMER. Seems funny 'er goin' blue-bell time, an' the sun shinin' so
warm. I picked up an 'orse-shu yesterday. I can't never 'ave 'er back,
zurr.
[His face quivers again.]
STRANGWAY. Some day you'll join her. Think! Some lose their
wives for ever.

CREMER. I don't believe as there's a future life, zurr. I think we goo to
sleep like the beasts.
STRANGWAY. We're told otherwise. But come here! [Drawing him to
the window] Look! Listen! To sleep in that! Even if we do, it won't be
so bad, Jack, will it?
CREMER. She wer' a gude wife to me--no man didn't 'ave no better
wife.
STRANGWAY. [Putting his hand out] Take hold--hard--harder! I want
yours as much as you want mine. Pray for me, Jack, and I'll pray for
you. And we won't give way, will we?
CREMER. [To whom the strangeness of these words has given some
relief] No, zurr; thank 'ee, zurr. 'Tes no gude, I expect. Only, I'll miss
'er. Thank 'ee, zurr; kindly.
[He lifts his hand to his head, turns, and uncertainly goes out to the
kitchen. And STRANGWAY stays where he is, not knowing what to
do. They blindly he takes up his flute, and hatless, hurries out into the
air.]

ACT II
SCENE I
About seven o'clock in the taproom of the village inn. The bar, with the
appurtenances thereof, stretches across one end, and opposite is the
porch door on to the green. The wall between is nearly all window,
with leaded panes, one wide-open casement whereof lets in the last of
the sunlight. A narrow bench runs under this broad window. And this is
all the furniture, save three spittoons:
GODLEIGH, the innkeeper, a smallish man with thick ruffled hair, a
loquacious nose, and apple-red cheeks above a reddish-brown
moustache; is reading the paper. To him enters TIBBY JARLAND
with a shilling in her mouth.
GODLEIGH. Well, TIBBY JARLAND, what've yu come for, then?
Glass o' beer?
[TIBBY takes the shilling from her mouth and smiles stolidly.]
GODLEIGH. [Twinkling] I shid zay glass o' 'arf an' 'arf's about yure
form. [TIBBY smiles more broadly] Yu'm