The Climbers Part 2

Has the new writing paper come?

BLANCHE. [_Who takes the letters and looks through them, giving some to her mother._] Yes.

[BLANCHE _reads a letter, and pa.s.ses it to_ JESSICA.

MRS. HUNTER. Is the black border broad enough? They said it was the thing.

CLARA. If you had it any broader, you'd have to get white ink to write with!

MRS. HUNTER. [_Sweetly._] Don't be impertinent, darling!

[_Reading another letter._

[_Enter_ MISS RUTH HUNTER. _She is an unmarried woman between thirty and forty years of age, handsome, distinguished; an aristocrat, without any pretensions; simple, unaffected, and direct in her effort to do kindnesses where they are not absolutely undeserved. She enters the room as if she carried with her an atmosphere of pure ozone. This affects all those in it. She is dressed in deep mourning and wears a thick chiffon veil, which she removes as she enters._

RUTH. Oh! you're having tea!

[_Glad that they are._

MRS. HUNTER. [_Taking a second cup._] I thought the children _ought_ to.

RUTH. Of course they ought and so ought you, if you haven't.

MRS. HUNTER. Oh, I've _trifled_ with something.

JESSICA. Sit here, Aunt Ruth.

BLANCHE. Will you have a cup, Aunt Ruth?

RUTH. Yes, dear, I'm feeling _very_ hungry.

[_Sitting on the sofa beside_ JESSICA _and pressing her hand as she does so._

MRS. HUNTER. Hungry! _How can you!_

RUTH. Because I'm not a _hypocrite_!

MRS. HUNTER. [_Whimpering._] I suppose that's a slur at me!

RUTH. If the slipper fits! But I confess I haven't eaten much for several days; I couldn't touch anything this morning, and I begin to feel exhausted; I must have food and, thank Heaven, I want it. Thank you.

[_To_ BLANCHE, _taking the cup from her._

MRS. HUNTER. I think it's awful, Ruth, and I feel I have a right to say it--I think you owed it to my feelings to have worn a long veil; people will think you didn't love your brother.

RUTH. [_Dryly._] Will they? Let them! You know as well as I do that George loathed the very idea of crepe and all display of mourning.

MRS. HUNTER. [_Feeling out of her element, changes the subject._] You stayed behind?

RUTH. Yes. I wanted to be the last there. [_Her voice chokes; she tries to control herself._] Ah! you see my nerves are all gone to pieces. I _won't_ cry any more!

MRS. HUNTER. I don't see how you could bear it--staying; but you never had any heart, Ruth.

RUTH. [_Mechanically, biting her lips hard to keep the tears back._]

Haven't I?

MRS. HUNTER. My darling husband always felt that defect in you.

RUTH. George?

MRS. HUNTER. He resented your treatment of me, and often said so.

RUTH. [_Very quietly, but with determination._] Please be careful. Don't talk to me like this about my brother, Florence--or you'll make me say something I shall be sorry for.

MRS. HUNTER. I don't care! It wore on him, the way you treated me. I put up with it for his sake, but it helped undermine his health.

RUTH. Florence, stop!

MRS. HUNTER. [_In foolish anger, the resentment of years bursting out._]

I _won't_ stop! I'm alone now, and the least you can do is to see that people who've fought shy of me take me up and give me my due. You've been a cruel, selfish sister-in-law, and your own brother saw and hated you for it!

BLANCHE. _Mother!_

RUTH. [_Outraged._] Send your daughters out of the room; I wish to answer you alone.

MRS. HUNTER. [_Frightened._] No! what you have to say to me I prefer my children to hear!

[CLARA _comes over to her mother and puts her arm about her._

RUTH. I can't remain quiet any longer. George--[_She almost breaks down, but she controls herself._] This funeral is enough, with its show and worldliness! I don't believe there was a soul in the church you didn't see! Look at your handkerchief! Real grief isn't measured by the width of a black border. I'm ashamed of you, Florence! I never liked you very much, although I tried to for your husband's sake, but now I'm even more ashamed of you. My dear brother is gone, and there need be no further bond between us, but I want you to understand the true reason why, from to-day, I keep away from you. This funeral was revolting to me!--a show spectacle, a social function, and for _him_ who you know _hated_ the very thing. [_She stops a moment to control her tears and her anger._] I saw the reporters there, and I heard your message to them, and I contradicted it. I begged them not to use your information, and they were gentlemen and promised me not to. You are, and always have been, a silly, frivolous woman. I don't doubt you loved your husband as much as you could any man, but it wasn't enough for me; he was worth being adored by the best and n.o.blest woman in the world. I've stood by all these years, trying with my love and silent sympathy to be some comfort to him--but I saw the disappointment and disillusionment eat away the very _hope_ of happiness out of his heart. I tried to help him by helping you in your foolish ambitions, doing what I could to give my brother's wife the social position _his name_ ent.i.tled her to!

MRS. HUNTER. That's not true; I've had to fight it out all alone!

RUTH. It was not my fault if my best friends found you intolerable; _I_ couldn't blame them. Well, now it's over! George is at rest, please G.o.d.

You are a rich woman to do what you please. Go, and do it! and Heaven forgive you for ruining my brother's life! I'm sorry to have said all this before your children. Blanche, you know how dearly I love you, and I hope you have forgiven me by now for my opposition to your marriage.

BLANCHE. Of course I've forgiven you, but you were always unjust to d.i.c.k.

RUTH. Yes; I didn't like your husband then, and I didn't believe in him, but I like him better now. And I am going to put all my affairs in his hands. I couldn't show--surely--a better proof of confidence and liking than that: to trust him as I did--your father. I hope I shall see much of you and Jessica. As for you, Clara, I must be honest--

CLARA. [_Interrupting her._] Oh, I know you've always hated me! The presents you gave the other girls were always twice as nice as I got!

MRS. HUNTER. [_Sympathetically._] Come here, darling.

[CLARA _goes and puts her arms about her mother's neck._

RUTH. You are your mother's own child, Clara, and I never could pretend anything I didn't feel. [_She turns to_ BLANCHE _and_ JESSICA, _who stand side by side._] You two are all I have left in the world of my brother. [_She kisses them, and lets the tears come, this time without struggling._] Take pity on your old-maid aunt and come and see me, won't you, _often_--[_Trying to smile away her tears._] And now good-by!