A Bit O' Love

ACT III ACT III SCENE I In the BURLACOMBES' hall-sitting-room the curtains are drawn, a lamp burns, and the door stands open. BURLACOMBE and his wife are hovering there, listening to the sound of mingled cheers and groaning. MRS. BURLACOMBE. Aw! my gudeness—what a thing t'appen! I'd saner 'a lost all me ducks. [She makes towards the inner door] I can't never face 'im. BURLACOMBE. 'E can't expect nothin' else, if 'e act like that. MRS. BURLACOMBE. 'Tes only duin' as 'e'd be done by. BURLACOMBE. Aw! Yu can't go on forgivin' 'ere, an' forgivin' there. 'Tesn't nat'ral. MRS. BURLACOMBE. 'Tes the mischief 'e'm a parson. 'Tes 'im bein' a lamb o' God—or 'twidden be so quare for 'im to be forgivin'. BURLACOMBE. Yu goo an' make un a gude 'ot drink. MRS. BURLACOMBE. Poor soul! What'll 'e du now, I wonder? [Under her breath] 'E's cumin'! [She goes hurriedly. BURLACOMBE, with a startled look back, wavers and makes to follow her, but stops undecided in the inner doorway. STRANGWAY comes in from the darkness. He turns to the window and drops overcoat and hat and the church key on the windowseat, looking about him as men do when too hard driven, and never fixing his eyes long enough on anything to see it. BURLACOMBE, closing the door into the house, advances a step. At the sound STRANGWAY faces round.] BURLACOMBE. I wanted for yu to know, zurr, that me an' mine 'adn't nothin' to du wi' that darned fulishness, just now. STRANGWAY. [With a ghost of a smile] Thank you, Burlacombe. It doesn't matter. It doesn't matter a bit. BURLACOMBE. I 'ope yu won't take no notice of it. Like a lot o' silly bees they get. [After an uneasy pause] Yu'll excuse me spakin' of this mornin', an' what 'appened. 'Tes a brave pity it cam' on yu so sudden-like before yu 'ad time to think. 'Tes a sort o' thing a man shude zet an' chew upon. Certainly 'tes not a bit o' yuse goin' against human nature. Ef yu don't stand up for yureself there's no one else not goin' to. 'Tes yure not 'avin' done that 'as made 'em so rampageous. [Stealing another look at STRANGWAY] Yu'll excuse me, zurr, spakin' of it, but 'tes amazin' sad to zee a man let go his own, without a word o' darin'. 'Tea as ef 'e 'ad no passions like. STRANGWAY. Look at me, Burlacombe. [BURLACOMBE looks up, trying hard to keep his eyes on STRANGWAY'S, that seem to burn in his thin face.] STRANGWAY. Do I look like that? Please, please! [He touches his breast] I've too much here. Please! BURLACOMBE. [With a sort of startled respect] Well, zurr, 'tes not for me to zay nothin', certainly. [He turns and after a slow look back at STRANGWAY goes out.] STRANGWAY. [To himself] Passions! No passions! Ha! [The outer door is opened and IVY BURLACOMBE appears, and, seeing him, stops. Then, coming softly towards him, she speaks timidly.] IVY. Oh! Mr. Strangway, Mrs. Bradmere's cumin' from the Rectory. I ran an' told 'em. Oh! 'twas awful. [STRANGWAY starts, stares at her, and turning on his heel, goes into the house. Ivy's face is all puckered, as if she were on the point of tears. There is a gentle scratching at the door, which has not been quite closed.] VOICE OF GLADYS. [Whispering] Ivy! Come on Ivy. I won't. VOICE OF MERCY. Yu must. Us can't du without Yu. Ivy. [Going to the door] I don't want to. VOICE of GLADYS. "Naughty maid, she won't come out," Ah! du 'ee! VOICE OF CREMER. Tim Clyst an' Bobbie's cumin'; us'll only be six anyway. Us can't dance "figure of eight" without yu. Ivy. [Stamping her foot] I don't want to dance at all! I don't. MERCY. Aw! She's temper. Yu can bang on tambourine, then! GLADYS. [Running in] Quick, Ivy! Here's the old grey mare cumin' down the green. Quick. [With whispering and scuffling; gurgling and squeaking, the reluctant Ivy's hand is caught and she is jerked away. In their haste they have left the door open behind them.] VOICE of MRS. BRADMERE. [Outside] Who's that? [She knocks loudly, and rings a bell; then, without waiting, comes in through the open door.] [Noting the overcoat and hat on the window-sill she moves across to ring the bell. But as she does so, MRS. BURLACOMBE, followed by BURLACOMBE, comes in from the house.] MRS. BRADMERE This disgraceful business! Where's Mr. Strangway? I see he's in. MRS. BURLACOMBE. Yes, m'm, he'm in—but—but Burlacombe du zay he'm terrible upset. MRS. BRADMERE. I should think so. I must see him—at once. MRS. BURLACOMBE. I doubt bed's the best place for 'un, an' gude 'ot drink. Burlacombe zays he'm like a man standin' on the edge of a cliff; and the lasts tipsy o' wind might throw un over. MRS. BRADMERE. [To BURLACOMBE] You've seen him, then? BURLACOMBE. Yeas; an' I don't like the luke of un—not a little bit, I don't. MRS. BURLACOMBE. [Almost to herself] Poor soul; 'e've a-'ad to much to try un this yer long time past. I've a-seen 'tis sperrit cumin' thru 'is body, as yu might zay. He's torn to bits, that's what 'tis. BURLACOMBE. 'Twas a praaper cowardly thing to hiss a man when he's down. But 'twas natural tu, in a manner of spakin'. But 'tesn't that troublin' 'im. 'Tes in here [touching his forehead], along of his wife, to my thinkin'. They zay 'e've a-known about 'er a-fore she went away. Think of what 'e've 'ad to kape in all this time. 'Tes enough to drive a man silly after that. I've a-locked my gun up. I see a man like—like that once before—an' sure enough 'e was dead in the mornin'! MRS. BRADMERE. Nonsense, Burlacombe! [To MRS. BURLACOMBE] Go and tell him I want to see him—must see him. [MRS. BURLACOMBE goes into the house] And look here, Burlacombe; if we catch any one, man or woman, talking of this outside the village, it'll be the end of their tenancy, whoever they may be. Let them all know that. I'm glad he threw that drunken fellow out of the window, though it was a little—— BURLACOMBE. Aye! The nuspapers would be praaper glad of that, for a tiddy bit o' nuse. MRS. BRADMERE. My goodness! Yes! The men are all up at the inn. Go and tell them what I said—it's not to get about. Go at once, Burlacombe. BURLACOMBE. Must be a turrable job for 'im, every one's knowin' about 'is wife like this. He'm a proud man tu, I think. 'Tes a funny business altogether! MRS. BRADMERE. Horrible! Poor fellow! Now, come! Do your best, Burlacombe! [BURLACOMBE touches his forelock and goes. MRS. BRADMERE stands quite still, thinking. Then going to the photograph, she stares up at it.] MRS. BRADMERE. You baggage! [STRANGWAY has come in noiselessly, and is standing just behind her. She turns, and sees him. There is something so still, so startlingly still in his figure and white face, that she cannot for the moment fond her voice.] MRS. BRADMERE. [At last] This is most distressing. I'm deeply sorry. [Then, as he does not answer, she goes a step closer] I'm an old woman; and old women must take liberties, you know, or they couldn't get on at all. Come now! Let's try and talk it over calmly and see if we can't put things right. STRANGWAY. You were very good to come; but I would rather not. MRS. BRADMERE. I know you're in as grievous trouble as a man can be. STRANGWAY. Yes. MRS. BRADMERE. [With a little sound of sympathy] What are you— thirty-five? I'm sixty-eight if I'm a day—old enough to be your mother. I can feel what you must have been through all these months, I can indeed. But you know you've gone the wrong way to work. We aren't angels down here below! And a son of the Church can't act as if for himself alone. The eyes of every one are on him. STRANGWAY. [Taking the church key from the window.] Take this, please. MRS. BRADMERE. No, no, no! Jarland deserved all he got. You had great provocation. STRANGWAY. It's not Jarland. [Holding out the key] Please take it to the Rector. I beg his forgiveness. [Touching his breast] There's too much I can't speak of—can't make plain. Take it to him, please. MRS. BRADMERE. Mr. Strangway—I don't accept this. I am sure my husband—the Church—will never accept—— STRANGWAY. Take it! MRS. BRADMERE. [Almost unconsciously taking it] Mind! We don't accept it. You must come and talk to the Rector to-morrow. You're overwrought. You'll see it all in another light, then. STRANGWAY. [With a strange smile] Perhaps. [Lifting the blind] Beautiful night! Couldn't be more beautiful! MRS. BRADMERE. [Startled-softly] Don't turn sway from these who want to help you! I'm a grumpy old woman, but I can feel for you. Don't try and keep it all back, like this! A woman would cry, and it would all seem clearer at once. Now won't you let me——? STRANGWAY. No one can help, thank you. MRS. BRADMERE. Come! Things haven't gone beyond mending, really, if you'll face them. [Pointing to the photograph] You know what I mean. We dare not foster immorality. STRANGWAY. [Quivering as at a jabbed nerve] Don't speak of that! MRS. BRADMERE. But think what you've done, Mr. Strangway! If you can't take your wife back, surely you must divorce her. You can never help her to go on like this in secret sin. STRANGWAY. Torture her—one way or the other? MRS. BRADMERE. No, no; I want you to do as the Church—as all Christian society would wish. Come! You can't let this go on. My dear man, do your duty at all costs! STRANGWAY. Break her heart? MRS. BRADMERE. Then you love that woman—more than God! STRANGWAY. [His face quivering] Love! MRS. BRADMERE. They told me——Yes, and I can see you're is a bad way. Come, pull yourself together! You can't defend what you're doing. STRANGWAY. I do not try. MRS. BRADMERE. I must get you to see! My father was a clergyman; I'm married to one; I've two sons in the Church. I know what I'm talking about. It's a priest's business to guide the people's lives. STRANGWAY. [Very low] But not mine! No more! MRS. BRADMERE. [Looking at him shrewdly] There's something very queer about you to-night. You ought to see doctor. STRANGWAY. [A smile awning and going on his lips] If I am not better soon—— MRS. BRADMERE. I know it must be terrible to feel that everybody—— [A convulsive shiver passes over STRANGWAY, and he shrinks against the door] But come! Live it down! [With anger growing at his silence] Live it down, man! You can't desert your post—and let these villagers do what they like with us? Do you realize that you're letting a woman, who has treated you abominably;—yes, abominably —go scot-free, to live comfortably with another man? What an example! STRANGWAY. Will you, please, not speak of that! MRS. BRADMERE. I must! This great Church of ours is based on the rightful condemnation of wrongdoing. There are times when forgiveness is a sin, Michael Strangway. You must keep the whip hand. You must fight! STRANGWAY. Fight! [Touching his heart] My fight is here. Have you ever been in hell? For months and months—burned and longed; hoped against hope; killed a man in thought day by day? Never rested, for love and hate? I—condemn! I—judge! No! It's rest I have to find—somewhere—somehow-rest! And how—how can I find rest? MRS. BRADMERE. [Who has listened to his outburst in a soft of coma] You are a strange man! One of these days you'll go off your head if you don't take care. STRANGWAY. [Smiling] One of these days the flowers will grow out of me; and I shall sleep. [MRS. BRADMERE stares at his smiling face a long moment in silence, then with a little sound, half sniff, half snort, she goes to the door. There she halts.] MRS. BRADMERE. And you mean to let all this go on——Your wife—— STRANGWAY. Go! Please go! MRS. BRADMERE. Men like you have been buried at cross-roads before now! Take care! God punishes! STRANGWAY. Is there a God? MRS. BRADMERE. Ah! [With finality] You must see a doctor. [Seeing that the look on his face does not change, she opens the door, and hurries away into the moonlight.] [STRANGWAY crosses the room to where his wife's picture hangs, and stands before it, his hands grasping the frame. Then he takes it from the wall, and lays it face upwards on the window seat.] STRANGWAY. [To himself] Gone! What is there, now? [The sound of an owl's hooting is floating in, and of voices from the green outside the inn.] STRANGWAY. [To himself] Gone! Taken faith—hope—life! [JIM BERE comes wandering into the open doorway.] JIM BERE. Gude avenin', zurr. [At his slow gait, with his feeble smile, he comes in, and standing by the window-seat beside the long dark coat that still lies there, he looks down at STRANGWAY with his lost eyes.] JIM. Yu threw un out of winder. I cud 'ave, once, I cud. [STRANGWAY neither moves nor speaks; and JIM BERE goes on with his unimaginably slow speech] They'm laughin' at yu, zurr. An' so I come to tell 'ee how to du. 'Twas full mune—when I caught 'em, him an' my girl. I caught 'em. [With a strange and awful flash of fire] I did; an' I tuk un [He taken up STRANGWAY'S coat and grips it with his trembling hands, as a man grips another's neck] like that—I tuk un. As the coat falls, like a body out of which the breath has been squeezed, STRANGWAY, rising, catches it. STRANGWAY. [Gripping the coat] And he fell! [He lets the coat fall on the floor, and puts his foot on it. Then, staggering back, he leans against the window.] JIM. Yu see, I loved 'er—I did. [The lost look comes back to his eyes] Then somethin'—I dunno—and—and——[He lifts his hand and passes it up and down his side] Twas like this for ever. [They gaze at each other in silence.] JIM. [At last] I come to tell yu. They'm all laughin' at yu. But yu'm strong—yu go over to Durford to that doctor man, an' take un like I did. [He tries again to make the sign of squeezing a man's neck] They can't laugh at yu no more, then. Tha's what I come to tell yu. Tha's the way for a Christian man to du. Gude naight, zurr. I come to tell yee. [STRANGWAY motions to him in silence. And, very slowly, JIM BERE passes out.] [The voices of men coming down the green are heard.] VOICES. Gude night, Tam. Glide naight, old Jim! VOICES. Gude might, Mr. Trustaford. 'Tes a wonderful fine mune. VOICE OF TRUSTAFORD. Ah! 'Tes a brave mune for th' poor old curate! VOICE. "My 'eart 'E lighted not!" [TRUSTAFORD'S laugh, and the rattling, fainter and fainter, of wheels. A spasm seizes on STRANGWAY'S face, as he stands there by the open door, his hand grips his throat; he looks from side to side, as if seeking a way of escape.] CURTAIN. SCENE II The BURLACOMBES' high and nearly empty barn. A lantern is hung by a rope that lifts the bales of straw, to a long ladder leaning against a rafter. This gives all the light there is, save for a slender track of moonlight, slanting in from the end, where the two great doors are not quite closed. On a rude bench in front of a few remaining, stacked, square-cut bundles of last year's hay, sits TIBBY JARLAND, a bit of apple in her mouth, sleepily beating on a tambourine. With stockinged feet GLADYS, IVY, CONNIE, and MERCY, TIM CLYST, and BOBBIE JARLAND, a boy of fifteen, are dancing a truncated "Figure of Eight"; and their shadow are dancing alongside on the walls. Shoes and some apples have been thrown down close to the side door through which they have come in. Now and then IVY, the smallest and best of the dancers, ejaculates words of direction, and one of the youths grunts or breathes loudly out of the confusion of his mind. Save for this and the dumb beat and jingle of the sleepy tambourine, there is no sound. The dance comes to its end, but the drowsy TIBBY goes on beating. MERCY. That'll du, Tibby; we're finished. Ate yore apple. [The stolid TIBBY eats her apple.] CLYST. [In his teasing, excitable voice] Yu maids don't dance 'elf's well as us du. Bobbie 'e's a great dancer. 'E dance vine. I'm a gude dancer, meself. GLADYS. A'n't yu conceited just? CLYST. Aw! Ah! Yu'll give me kiss for that. [He chases, but cannot catch that slippery white figure] Can't she glimmer! MERCY. Gladys! Up ladder! CLYST. Yu go up ladder; I'll catch 'ee then. Naw, yu maids, don't yu give her succour. That's not vair [Catching hold of MERCY, who gives a little squeal.] CONNIE. Mercy, don't! Mrs. Burlacombe'll hear. Ivy, go an' peek. [Ivy goes to flee side door and peers through.] CLYST. [Abandoning the chase and picking up an apple—they all have the joyous irresponsibility that attends forbidden doings] Ya-as, this is a gude apple. Luke at Tibby! [TIBBY, overcome by drowsiness, has fallen back into the hay, asleep. GLADYS, leaning against the hay breaks into humming:] "There cam' three dukes a-ridin', a-ridin', a-ridin', There cam' three dukes a ridin' With a ransy-tansy tay!" CLYST. Us 'as got on vine; us'll get prize for our dancin'. CONNIE. There won't be no prize if Mr. Strangway goes away. 'Tes funny 'twas Mrs. Strangway start us. IVY. [From the door] 'Twas wicked to hiss him. [A moment's hush.] CLYST. Twasn't I. BOBBIE. I never did. GLADYS. Oh! Bobbie, yu did! Yu blew in my ear. CLYST. 'Twas the praaper old wind in the trees. Did make a brave noise, zurely. MERCY. 'E shuld'n' 'a let my skylark go. CLYST. [Out of sheer contradictoriness] Ya-as, 'e shude, then. What du yu want with th' birds of the air? They'm no gude to yu. IVY. [Mournfully] And now he's goin' away. CLYST. Ya-as; 'tes a pity. He's the best man I ever seen since I was comin' from my mother. He's a gude man. He'em got a zad face, sure enough, though. IVY. Gude folk always 'ave zad faces. CLYST. I knu a gude man—'e sold pigs—very gude man: 'e 'ad a budiful bright vase like the mane. [Touching his stomach] I was sad, meself, once. 'Twas a funny scrabblin'—like feelin'. GLADYS. If 'e go away, whu's goin' to finish us for confirmation? CONNIE. The Rector and the old grey mare. MERCY. I don' want no more finishin'; I'm confirmed enough. CLYST. Ya-as; yu'm a buty. GLADYS. Suppose we all went an' asked 'im not to go? IVY. 'Twouldn't be no gude. CONNIE. Where's 'e goin'? MERCY. He'll go to London, of course. IVY. He's so gentle; I think 'e'll go to an island, where there's nothin' but birds and beasts and flowers. CLYST. Aye! He'm awful fond o' the dumb things. IVY. They're kind and peaceful; that's why. CLYST. Aw! Yu see tu praaper old tom cats; they'm not to peaceful, after that, nor kind naighther. BOBBIE. [Surprisingly] If 'e's sad, per'aps 'e'll go to 'Eaven. IVY. Oh! not yet, Bobbie. He's tu young. CLYST. [Following his own thoughts] Ya-as. 'Tes a funny place, tu, nowadays, judgin' from the papers. GLADYS. Wonder if there's dancin' in 'Eaven? IVY. There's beasts, and flowers, and waters, and 'e told us. CLYST. Naw! There's no dumb things in 'Eaven. Jim Bere 'e says there is! 'E thinks 'is old cat's there. IVY. Yes. [Dreamily] There's stars, an' owls, an' a man playin' on the flute. Where 'tes gude, there must be music. CLYST. Old brass band, shuldn' wonder, like th' Salvation Army. IVY. [Putting up her hands to an imaginary pipe] No; 'tis a boy that goes so; an' all the dumb things an' all the people goo after 'im—like this. [She marches slowly, playing her imaginary pipe, and one by one they all fall in behind her, padding round the barn in their stockinged feet. Passing the big doors, IVY throws them open.] An' 'tes all like that in 'Eaven. [She stands there gazing out, still playing on her imaginary pipe. And they all stand a moment silent, staring into the moonlight.] CLYST. 'Tes a glory-be full mune to-night! IVY. A goldie-cup—a big one. An' millions o' little goldie-cups on the floor of 'Eaven. MERCY. Oh! Bother 'Eaven! Let's dance "Clapperclaws"! Wake up, Tibby! GLADYS. Clapperelaws, clapperclaws! Come on, Bobbie—make circle! CLYST. Clapperclaws! I dance that one fine. IVY. [Taking the tambourine] See, Tibby; like this. She hums and beats gently, then restores the tambourine to the sleepy TIBBY, who, waking, has placed a piece of apple in her mouth. CONNIE. 'Tes awful difficult, this one. IVY. [Illustrating] No; yu just jump, an' clap yore 'ands. Lovely, lovely! CLYST. Like ringin' bells! Come ahn! [TIBBY begins her drowsy beating, IVY hums the tune; they dance, and their shadows dance again upon the walls. When she has beaten but a few moments on the tambourine, TIBBY is overcome once more by sleep and falls back again into her nest of hay, with her little shoed feet just visible over the edge of the bench. Ivy catches up the tambourine, and to her beating and humming the dancers dance on.] [Suddenly GLADYS stops like a wild animal surprised, and cranes her neck towards the aide door.] CONNIE. [Whispering] What is it? GLADYS. [Whispering] I hear—some one comin' across the yard. [She leads a noiseless scamper towards the shoes. BOBBIE JARLAND shins up the ladder and seizes the lantern. Ivy drops the tambourine. They all fly to the big doors, and vanish into the moonlight, pulling the door nearly to again after them.] [There is the sound of scrabbling at the hitch of the side door, and STRANGWAY comes into the nearly dark barn. Out in the night the owl is still hooting. He closes the door, and that sound is lost. Like a man walking in his sleep, he goes up to the ladder, takes the rope in his hand, and makes a noose. He can be heard breathing, and in the darkness the motions of his hands are dimly seen, freeing his throat and putting the noose round his neck. He stands swaying to and fro at the foot of the ladder; then, with a sigh, sets his foot on it to mount. One of the big doors creaks and opens in the wind, letting in a broad path of moonlight.] [STRANGWAY stops; freeing his neck from the noose, he walks quickly up the track of moonlight, whitened from head to foot, to close the doors.] [The sound of his boots on the bare floor has awakened TIBBY JARLAND. Struggling out of her hay nest she stands staring at his whitened figure, and bursts suddenly into a wail.] TIBBY. O-oh! Mercy! Where are yu? I'm frightened! I'm frightened! O-oooo! STRANGWAY. [Turning—startled] Who's that? Who is it? TIBBY. O-oh! A ghosty! Oo-ooo! STRANGWAY. [Going to her quickly] It's me, Tibby—Tib only me! TIBBY. I seed a ghosty. STRANGWAY. [Taking her up] No, no, my bird, you didn't! It was me. TIBBY. [Burying her face against him] I'm frighted. It was a big one. [She gives tongue again] O-o-oh! STRANGWAY. There, there! It's nothing but me. Look! TIBBY. No. [She peeps out all the same.] STRANGWAY. See! It's the moonlight made me all white. See! You're a brave girl now? TIBBY. [Cautiously] I want my apple. [She points towards her nest. STRANGWAY carries her there, picks up an apple, and gives it her. TIBBY takes a bite.] TIBBY. I want any tambourine. STRANGWAY. [Giving her the tambourine, and carrying her back into the' track of moonlight] Now we're both ghosties! Isn't it funny? TABBY. [Doubtfully] Yes. STRANGWAY. See! The moon's laughing at us! See? Laugh then! [TABBY, tambourine in one hand and apple in the other, smiles stolidly. He sets her down on the ladder, and stands, holding her level With him.] TABBY. [Solemnly] I'se still frightened. STRANGWAY. No! Full moon, Tibby! Shall we wish for it? TABBY. Full mune. STRANGWAY. Moon! We're wishing for you. Moon, moon! TIBBY. Mune, we're wishin' for yu! STRANGWAY. What do, you wish it to be? TIBBY. Bright new shillin'! STRANGWAY. A face. TIBBY. Shillin', a shillin'! STRANGWAY. [Taking out a shilling and spinning it so that it falls into her pinafore] See! Your wish comes true. TIBBY. Oh! [Putting the shilling in her mouth] Mune's still there! STRANGWAY. Wish for me, Tibby! TIBBY. Mune. I'm wishin' for yu! STRANGWAY. Not yet! TIBBY. Shall I shake my tambouline? STRANGWAY. Yes, shake your tambouline. TIBBY. [Shaking her tambourine] Mune, I'm shaken' at yu. [STRANGWAY lays his hand suddenly on the rope, and swings it up on to the beam.] TIBBY. What d'yu du that for? STRANGWAY. To put it out of reach. It's better—— TIBBY. Why is it better? [She stares up at him.] STRANGWAY. Come along, Tibby! [He carries her to the big doors, and sets her down] See! All asleep! The birds, and the fields, and the moon! TIBBY. Mune, mune, we're wishing for yu! STRANGWAY. Send her your love, and say good-night. TIBBY. [Blowing a kiss] Good-night, mune! [From the barn roof a little white dove's feather comes floating down in the wind. TIBBY follows it with her hand, catches it, and holds it up to him.] TIBBY. [Chuckling] Luke. The mune's sent a bit o' love! STRANGWAY. [Taking the feather] Thank you, Tibby! I want that bit o' love. [Very faint, comes the sound of music] Listen! TIBBY. It's Miss Willis, playin' on the pianny! STRANGWAY. No; it's Love; walking and talking in the world. TIBBY. [Dubiously] Is it? STRANGWAY. [Pointing] See! Everything coming out to listen! See them, Tibby! All the little things with pointed ears, children, and birds, and flowers, and bunnies; and the bright rocks, and—men! Hear their hearts beating! And the wind listening! TIBBY. I can't hear—nor I can't see! STRANGWAY. Beyond——[To himself] They are—they must be; I swear they are! [Then, catching sight of TIBBY'S amazed eyes] And now say good-bye to me. TIBBY. Where yu goin'? STRANGWAY. I don't know, Tibby. VOICE OF MERCY. [Distant and cautious] Tibby! Tibby! Where are yu? STRANGWAY. Mercy calling; run to her! [TIBBY starts off, turns back and lifts her face. He bends to kiss her, and flinging her arms round his neck, she gives him a good hug. Then, knuckling the sleep out of her eyes, she runs.] [STRANGWAY stands, uncertain. There is a sound of heavy footsteps; a man clears his throat, close by.] STRANGWAY. Who's that? CREMER. Jack Cremer. [The big man's figure appears out of the shadow of the barn] That yu, zurr? STRANGWAY. Yes, Jack. How goes it? CREMER. 'Tes empty, zurr. But I'll get on some'ow. STRANGWAY. You put me to shame. CREMER. No, zurr. I'd be killin' meself, if I didn' feel I must stick it, like yu zaid. [They stand gazing at each other in the moonlight.] STRANGWAY. [Very low] I honour you. CREMER. What's that? [Then, as STRANGWAY does not answer] I'll just be walkin'—I won' be gain' 'ome to-night. 'Tes the full mune— lucky. STRANGWAY. [Suddenly] Wait for me at the crossroads, Jack. I'll come with you. Will you have me, brother? CREMER. Sure! STRANGWAY. Wait, then. CREMER. Aye, zurr. [With his heavy tread CREMER passes on. And STRANGWAY leans against the lintel of the door, looking at the moon, that, quite full and golden, hangs not far above the straight horizon, where the trees stand small, in a row.] STRANGWAY. [Lifting his hand in the gesture of prayer] God, of the moon and the sun; of joy and beauty, of loneliness and sorrow—give me strength to go on, till I love every living thing! [He moves away, following JACK CREMER. The full moon shines; the owl hoots; and some one is shaking TIBBY'S tambourine.] GALSWORTHY'S PLAYS Links to All Volumes THE FIRST SERIES: The Silver Box Joy Strife THE SECOND SERIES: The Eldest Son Little Dream Justice THE THIRD SERIES: The Fugitive The Pigeon The Mob THE FOURTH SERIES: A Bit O'Love The Foundations The Skin Game THE FIFTH SERIES: A Family Man Loyalties Windows THE SIXTH SERIES: The First and Last The Little Man Four Short Plays *** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A BIT O' LOVE *** Updated editions will replace the previous one—the old editions will be renamed. 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