The Easiest Way Part 29

LAURA. Well?

JOHN. They said something about you and Brockton, and I found that they'd said too much, but not quite enough.

LAURA. What did they say?

JOHN. Just that--too much and not quite enough. There's a minister waiting for us over on Madison Avenue. You see, then you'll be my wife. That's pretty serious business, and all I want now from you is the truth.

LAURA. Well?

JOHN. Just tell me that what they said was just an echo of the past--that it came from what had been going on before that wonderful day out in Colorado. Tell me that you've been on the level. I don't want their word, Laura--I just want yours.

LAURA _summons all her courage, looks up into his loving eyes, shrinks a moment before his anxious face, and speaks as simply as she can._

LAURA. Yes, John, I have been on the level.

JOHN. [_Very tenderly._] I knew that, dear, I knew it. [_He takes her in his arms and kisses her. She clings to him in pitiful helplessness.

His manner is changed to one of almost boyish happiness._] Well, now everything's all ready, let's get on the job. We haven't a great deal of time. Get your duds on.

LAURA. When do we go?

JOHN. Right away. The great idea is to get away.

LAURA. All right.

[_Gets hat off trunk, crosses to bureau, puts it on._

JOHN. Laura, you've got trunks enough, haven't you? One might think we're moving a whole colony. [_Turns to her with a smile._] And, by the way, to me you are a whole colony--anyway you're the only one I ever wanted to settle with.

LAURA. That's good. [_Takes bag off bureau, crosses to trunk, gets purse, coat, umbrella, as if ready to leave. She hurriedly gathers her things together, adjusting her hat and the like, and almost to herself in a low tone:_] I'm so excited. [_Continues preparations._] Come on.

_In the meantime_ JOHN _crosses by to get his hat and coat, and while the preparations are about to be completed and_ LAURA _has said "Come on," she is transfixed by the noise of the slamming of the outer door.

She stops as if she had been tremendously shocked, and a moment later the rattling of a latch-key in the inner door also stops_ JOHN _from going any further. His coat is half on._ LAURA _looks toward the door, paralyzed with fright, and_ JOHN _looks at her with an expression of great apprehension. Slowly the door opens, and_ BROCKTON _enters with coat and hat on. As he turns to close the door after him,_ LAURA, _pitifully and terribly afraid, retreats two or three steps, and lays coat, bag, purse and umbrella down in armchair, standing dazed._ BROCKTON _enters leisurely, paying no attention to anyone, while_ JOHN _becomes as rigid as a statue, and follows with his eyes every move_ BROCKTON _makes. The latter walks leisurely across the stage, and afterwards into the rooms through the portieres. There is a wait of a second. No one moves._ BROCKTON _finally reenters with coat and hat off, and throws back the portieres in such a manner as to reveal the bed and his intimate familiarity with the outer room. He goes down stage in the same leisurely manner and sits in a chair opposite_ JOHN, _crossing his legs._

WILL. h.e.l.lo, Madison, when did you get in?

_Slowly_ JOHN _seems to recover himself. His right hand starts up toward the lapel of his coat and slowly he pulls his Colt revolver from the holster under his armpit. There is a deadly determination and deliberation in every movement that he makes._ WILL _jumps to his feet and looks at him. The revolver is uplifted in the air, as a Western man handles a gun, so that when it is snapped down with a jerk the deadly shot can be fired._ LAURA _is terror-stricken, but before the shot is fired she takes a step forward and extends one hand in a gesture of entreaty._

LAURA. [_In a husky voice that is almost a whisper._] Don't shoot.

_The gun remains uplifted for a moment._ JOHN _is evidently wavering in his determination to kill. Slowly his whole frame relaxes. He lowers the pistol in his hand in a manner which clearly indicates that he is not going to shoot. He quietly puts it back in the holster, and_ WILL _is obviously relieved, although he stood his ground like a man._

JOHN. [_Slowly._] Thank you. You said that just in time.

[_A pause._

WILL. [_Recovering and in a light tone._] Well, you see, Madison, that what I said when I was--

JOHN. [_Threateningly._] Look out, Brockton, I don't want to talk to you. [_The men confront._

WILL. All right.

JOHN. [_To_ LAURA.] Now get that man out of here.

LAURA. John, I--

JOHN. Get him out. Get him out before I lose my temper or they'll take him out without his help.

LAURA. [_To_ WILL.] Go--go. Please go.

WILL. [_Deliberately._] If that's the way you want it, I'm willing.

_Exit_ WILL _into the sleeping-apartment._ LAURA _and_ JOHN _stand facing each other. He enters again with hat and coat on, and pa.s.ses over toward the door._ LAURA _and_ JOHN _do not move. When he gets just a little to the left of the centre of the stage_ LAURA _steps forward and stops him with her speech._

LAURA. Now before you go, and to you both, I want to tell you how I've learned to despise him. John, I know you don't believe me, but it's true--it's true. I don't love anyone in the world but just you. I know you don't think that it can be explained--maybe there isn't any explanation. I couldn't help it. I was so poor, and I had to live, and he wouldn't let me work, and he's only let me live one way, and I was hungry. Do you know what that means? I was hungry and didn't have clothes to keep me warm, and I tried, oh, John, I tried so hard to do the other thing,--the right thing,--but I couldn't.

JOHN. I--I know I couldn't help much, and perhaps I could have forgiven you if you hadn't lied to me. That's what hurt. [_Turning to_ WILL _and approaching until he can look him in the eyes._] I expected you to lie, you're that kind of a man. You left me with a shake of the hand, and you gave me your word, and you didn't keep it. Why should you keep it? Why should anything make any difference with you? Why, you pup, you've no right to live in the same world with decent folks.

Now you make yourself scarce, or take it from me, I'll just kill you, that's all.

WILL. I'll leave, Madison, but I'm not going to let you think that I didn't do the right thing with you. She came to me voluntarily. She said she wanted to come back. I told you that, when I was in Colorado, and you didn't believe me, and I told you that when she did this sort of thing I'd let you know. I dictated a letter to her to send to you, and I left it sealed and stamped in her hands to mail. She didn't do it. If there's been a lie, she told it. I didn't.

JOHN _turns to her. She hangs her head and averts her eyes in a mute acknowledgment of guilt. The revelation hits_ JOHN _so hard that he sinks on the trunk centre, his head fallen to his breast. He is utterly limp and whipped. There is a moment's silence._

WILL. [_Crosses to_ JOHN.] You see! Why, my boy, whatever you think of me or the life I lead, I wouldn't have had this come to you for anything in the world. [JOHN _makes an impatient gesture._] No, I wouldn't. My women don't mean a whole lot to me because I don't take them seriously. I wish I had the faith and the youth to feel the way you do. You're all in and broken up, but I wish I could be broken up just once. I did what I thought was best for you because I didn't think she could ever go through the way you wanted her to. I'm sorry it's all turned out bad. [_Pause._] Good-bye.

_He looks at_ JOHN _for a moment as if he was going to speak._ JOHN _remains motionless. The blow has. .h.i.t him harder than he thought._ WILL _exits. The first door closes. In a moment the second door is slammed._ JOHN _and_ LAURA _look at each other for a moment. He gives her no chance to speak. The hurt in his heart and his accusation are shown by his broken manner. A great grief has come into his life and he doesn't quite understand it. He seems to be feeling around for something to say, some way to get out. His head turns toward the door.

With a pitiful gesture of the hand he looks at her in all his sorrow._

JOHN. Well? [_Rises._

LAURA. John, I--[_Takes off hat and places it on table._

JOHN. I'd be careful what I said. Don't try to make excuses. I understand.

LAURA. It's not excuses. I want to tell you what's in my heart, but I can't; it won't speak, and you don't believe my voice.

JOHN. You'd better leave it unsaid.

LAURA. But I must tell. I can't let you go like this. [_She goes over to him and makes a weak attempt to put her arms around him. He takes her arms and puts them back to her side._] I love you. I--how can I tell you--but I do, I do, and you won't believe me.

_He remains silent for a moment and then takes her by the hand, leads her over to the chair and places her in it._

JOHN. I think you do as far as you are able; but, Laura, I guess you don't know what a decent sentiment is. [_He gathers himself together.

His tone is very gentle and very firm, but it carries a tremendous conviction, even with his grief ringing through his speech._] Laura, you're not immoral, you're just unmoral, kind o' all out of shape, and I'm afraid there isn't a particle of hope for you. When we met neither of us had any reason to be proud, but I thought that you thought that it was the chance of salvation which sometimes comes to a man and a woman fixed as we were then. What had been had been. It was all in the great to-be for us, and now, how you've kept your word! What little that promise meant, when I thought you handed me a new lease of life!

LAURA. [_In a voice that is changed and metallic. She is literally being nailed to the cross._] You're killing me--killing me.

JOHN. Don't make such a mistake. In a month you'll recover. There will be days when you will think of me, just for a moment, and then it will be all over. With you it is the easy way, and it always will be.

You'll go on and on until you're finally left a wreck, just the type of the common woman. And you'll sink until you're down to the very bed-rock of depravity. I pity you.