The Straw Part 13

(_He goes to the scales._ Eileen _keeps her back turned. Her body stiffens rigidly in the intensity of her conflicting emotions.

She stares straight ahead, her eyes full of anguish._ Murray _steps on the scales nervously. The balance rod hits the top smartly. He has gained. His face lights up and he heaves a great sigh of relief._ Eileen _seems to sense this outcome and her head sinks, her body sags weakly and seems to shrink to a smaller size._ Murray _gets off the scales, his face beaming with a triumphant smile._ Doctor Stanton _smiles and murmurs something to him in a low voice._ Murray _nods brightly; then turns back to_ Eileen.)

STANTON. Nathan! (_Another patient advances to the scales._)

MURRAY (_trying to appear casual_). Well--three rousing cheers! Stanton told me to come to his office at eleven. That means a final exam--and release!

EILEEN (_dully_). So you gained?

MURRAY. Three pounds.

EILEEN. Funny--I lost three. (_With a pitiful effort at a smile_.) I hope you gained the ones I lost. (_Her lips tremble._) So you're surely going away.

MURRAY (_his joy fleeing as he is confronted with her sorrow--slowly_).

It looks that way, Eileen.

EILEEN (_in a trembling whisper broken by rising sobs_). Oh--I'm so glad--you gained--the ones I lost, Stephen---- So glad! (_She breaks down, covering her face with her hands, stifling her sobs._)

MURRAY (_alarmed_). Eileen! What's the matter? (_Desperately._) Stop it! Stanton'll see you!

THE CURTAIN FALLS

Act Two: Scene Two

_Midnight of the same day. A cross-road near the sanatorium. The main road comes down forward from the right. A smaller road, leading down from the left, joins it towards left centre._

_Dense woods rise sheer from the gra.s.s and bramble-grown ditches at the roadsides. At the junction of the two roads there is a signpost, its arms pointing towards the right and the left, rear. A pile of round stones is at the road corner, left forward. A full moon, riding high overhead, throws the roads into white, shadowless relief and ma.s.ses the woods into walls of compact blackness. The trees lean heavily together, their branches motionless, unstirred by any trace of wind._

_As the curtain rises,_ Eileen _is discovered standing in the middle of the road, front centre. Her face shows white and clear in the bright moonlight as she stares with anxious expectancy up the road to the left. Her body is fixed in an att.i.tude of rigid immobility as if she were afraid the slightest movement would break the spell of silence and awaken the unknown. She has shrunk instinctively as far away as she can from the mysterious darkness which rises at the roadsides like an imprisoning wall. A sound of hurried footfalls, m.u.f.fled by the dust, comes from the road she is watching. She gives a startled gasp. Her eyes strain to identify the oncomer. Uncertain, trembling with fright, she hesitates a second; then darts to the side of the road and crouches down in the shadow._

Stephen Murray _comes down the road from the left. He stops by the signpost and peers about him. He wears a cap, the peak of which casts his face into shadow. Finally he calls in a low voice._

MURRAY. Eileen!

EILEEN (_coming out quickly from her hiding-place--with a glad little cry_). Stephen! At last! (_She runs to him as if she were going to fling her arms about him, but stops abashed. He reaches out and takes her hands._)

MURRAY. At last? It can't be twelve yet. (_He leads her to the pile of stones on the left._) I haven't heard the village clock.

EILEEN. I must have come early. It seemed as if I'd been waiting for ages. I was so anxious----

MURRAY. How your hands tremble! Were you frightened?

EILEEN (_forcing a smile_). A little. The woods are so black--and queer-looking. I'm all right now.

MURRAY. Sit down. You must rest. (_In a tone of annoyed reproof._) I'm going to read you a lecture, young lady. You shouldn't ever have done this--running a temp and---- Good heavens, don't you want to get well?

EILEEN (_dully_). I don't know----

MURRAY (_irritably_). You make me ill when you talk that way, Eileen.

It doesn't sound like you at all. What's come over you lately? Get a grip on yourself, for G.o.d's sake. I was--knocked out--when I read the note you slipped me after supper. I didn't get a chance to read it until late, I was so busy packing, and by that time you'd gone to your cottage. If I could have reached you any way I'd have refused to come here, I tell you straight. But I couldn't--and I knew you'd be here waiting--and--still, I feel guilty. d.a.m.n it, this isn't the thing for you! You ought to be in bed asleep. Can't you look out for yourself?

EILEEN (_humbly_). Please, Stephen, don't scold me.

MURRAY. How the devil did you ever get the idea--meeting me here at this unG.o.dly hour?

EILEEN. You'd told me about your sneaking out that night to go to the village, and I thought there'd be no harm this one night--the last night.

MURRAY. But I'm well. I've been well. It's different. You---- Honest, Eileen, you shouldn't lose sleep and tax your strength.

EILEEN. Don't scold me, please. I'll make up for it. I'll rest all the time--after you're gone. I just had to see you some way--somewhere where there weren't eyes and ears on all sides--when you told me after dinner that Doctor Stanton had examined you and said you could go to-morrow---- (_A clock in the distant village begins striking._) Sss.h.!.+ Listen.

MURRAY. That's twelve now. You see I was early.

(_In a pause of silence they wait motionlessly until the last mournful note dies in the hushed woods._)

EILEEN (_in a stifled voice_). It isn't to-morrow now, is it? It's to-day--the day you're going.

MURRAY (_something in her voice making him avert his face and kick at the heap of stones on which she is sitting--brusquely_). Well, I hope you took precautions so you wouldn't be caught sneaking out.

EILEEN. I did just what you'd told me you did--stuffed the pillows under the clothes so the watchman would think I was there.

MURRAY. None of the patients on your porch saw you leave, did they?

EILEEN. No. They were all asleep.

MURRAY. That's all right, then. I wouldn't trust any of that bunch of women. They'd be only too glad to squeal on you. (_There is an uncomfortable pause._ Murray _seems waiting for her to speak. He looks about him at the trees, up into the moonlit sky, breathing in the fresh air with a healthy delight._ Eileen _remains with downcast head, staring at the road._) It's beautiful to-night, isn't it? Worth losing sleep for.

EILEEN (_dully_). Yes. (_Another pause--finally she murmurs faintly._) Are you leaving early?

MURRAY. The ten-forty. Leave the San at ten, I guess.

EILEEN. You're going home?

MURRAY. Home? You mean to the town? No. But I'm going to see my sisters--just to say h.e.l.lo. I've got to, I suppose. I won't stay more than a few days, if I can help it.

EILEEN. I'm sure--I've often felt--you're unjust to your sisters.

(_With conviction._) I'm sure they must both love you.

MURRAY (_frowning_). Maybe, in their own way. But what's love without a glimmer of understanding--a nuisance! They have never seen the real me and never have wanted to--that's all.

EILEEN (_as if to herself_). What is--the real you? (Murray _kicks at the stones impatiently without answering._ Eileen _hastens to change the subject._) And then you'll go to New York?

MURRAY (_interested, at once_). Yes. You bet.

EILEEN. And write more?