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Delphi Collected Works of W. Somerset Maugham (Illustrated)

Page 378

by William Somerset Maugham


  Grace.

  [Abruptly.] Peggy Gann came to see me this afternoon, Claude.

  Claude.

  Did she?

  [There is a very short pause. Cobbett sees what is going to happen and gets up.

  Cobbett.

  [To Edith Lewis.] Wouldn’t you like to come for a stroll in the garden?

  Edith Lewis.

  Yes.

  Grace.

  I’ve asked her to fetch her father.

  [Cobbett and Edith Lewis go out.

  Claude.

  [Without waiting for the movement.] I’m sorry you did that, Grace. I’ve got nothing to say to him.

  Grace.

  [To Mrs. Insoley.] Do you know that Claude has threatened to dismiss Gann if Peggy hasn’t gone by ten o’clock to-night?

  Mrs. Insoley.

  For once in his life Claude has acted with spirit. He gave Gann twenty-four hours to think it over. My father would have given him fifteen minutes.

  Grace.

  Why was it all kept from me? It seems that everybody knew but me.

  Claude.

  Hang it all, Grace, I wanted to tell you last night and you wouldn’t let me.

  Grace.

  [Startled.] Oh! Was it that? I didn’t know.... Claude, I want you to be very kind and forgive that wretched girl. I want you to tell Gann that she needn’t go.

  Claude.

  [Quite firmly.] My dear, I can’t do that. I’ve made up my mind and I must stick to it.

  Grace.

  Why?

  Claude.

  Hang it all, what would happen to the discipline of the estate if I were always shilly-shallying? Every one in the place knows that when I say a thing I mean it. It’s an enormous advantage to all concerned.

  Grace.

  [With a coaxing smile.] It wouldn’t do any harm if you made an exception just this once.

  Claude.

  It’s a matter of upholding my authority. Gann refused to do what I told him, and I had to threaten him with immediate dismissal. I couldn’t eat my words now without looking a perfect fool.

  Grace.

  Don’t you think it’s awfully unjust to send a girl away because she’s got into trouble?

  Claude.

  It’s a rule of the estate. I didn’t make it.

  Grace.

  [Turning to Miss Vernon.] Helen, you’re a woman. You must see how cruel it is. Can’t you say something to help me?

  Miss Vernon.

  I don’t know what else one’s to do. After all, we have the same rule at Foley.

  Claude.

  They have it on half the large estates in the kingdom. It’s absolutely essential if one has any regard for decency.

  Miss Vernon.

  I don’t suppose it would be so common, and it certainly wouldn’t have lasted so long, if there hadn’t been some good in it.

  Grace.

  [Violently.] Oh, it’s maddening. Always, always, there’s that stone wall in front of me. Whatever is, is good. However cruel and unjust a custom is, no one must touch it because it’s a custom. If a law is infamous, does it become any less infamous because people have suffered from it for a dozen generations?

  Mrs. Insoley.

  Perhaps you’re not very competent to judge matters of this sort, my dear.

  Archibald.

  I’m afraid your sympathy is rather wasted in this particular case. Peggy Gann isn’t a very deserving young woman.

  Grace.

  If she were, there’d be no need for me to plead for her.

  Mrs. Insoley.

  On those lines the more of a hussy a girl is the more she’s deserving of sympathy.

  Grace.

  [To Archibald.] You had nothing against her till this happened.

  Archibald.

  Nothing very definite. She was always rather cheeky, and she never came to Sunday-school very regularly.

  Grace.

  Is that all?

  Mrs. Insoley.

  My own belief is that the Ganns are really Dissenters.

  Grace.

  [Impatiently.] Good heavens, they positively revel in going to church.

  Mrs. Insoley.

  That may be or it may not. But they give me the impression of chapel people.

  Archibald.

  Heaven knows, I don’t want to seem hard and unsympathetic, but after all, you’re not going to keep people moral if you pamper those who aren’t.

  Grace.

  And what d’you think’ll happen to her if you make her leave here?

  Archibald.

  We’ll do our best for her. It’s not a pleasant position for any of us, Grace. I’ve been wretched about the whole thing, and I’m sure Claude has too.

  Claude.

  Of course I have. But hang it all, in our position we can’t afford to think of sentiment. Especially now that they’re attacking us all round we’ve got to show them that we can keep a firm hand on the reins.

  Archibald.

  Do us the justice to see that we’re really trying to do what’s right. It may be very wrong that we should be in our particular positions, and we may be quite unworthy of them. But we didn’t make society, and we’re not responsible for its inequalities. We find ourselves in a certain station, and we have to act accordingly.

  Claude.

  The long and the short of it is that it’s our duty to look after those whom Providence has placed in our charge. And it’s our duty to punish as well as to reward.

  Grace.

  Oh, how hard you are! One would think you’d never done anything in your life that you regret. [With increasing violence.] Oh, you virtuous people, I hate you. You’re never content till you see the sinner actually frizzling. As if hell were needed when every sin brings its own punishment! And you never make excuses. You don’t know how many temptations we resist for the one we fall to.

  Miss Vernon.

  Grace! What are you saying!

  [Grace, almost beside herself, looks at her with haggard eyes. Suddenly she gives a start, and stares at Miss Vernon with horror. She has realised that Miss Vernon knows the relations that have existed between her and Henry Cobbett. There is a pause. The Butler comes in.

  Moore.

  Gann and his daughter are here, sir.

  Claude.

  Oh, yes, I’ll come at once.

  Moore.

  Very good, sir.

  [He goes out.

  Mrs. Insoley.

  Why shouldn’t he come here, Claude?

  Grace.

  Yes, let him come by all means. And then you can see for yourselves.

  Archibald.

  I’ll tell Moore, shall I? [He goes to the door as he says this and calls.] Moore. Tell Gann to come here.

  Miss Vernon.

  [Rising.] I think I’ll leave you. This isn’t any business of mine. [To Miss Hall.] Will you come with me?

  Miss Hall.

  Do you want me, Mrs. Insoley?

  Mrs. Insoley.

  No. You’ve had no exercise to-day, Louisa. You’d better walk three times round the garden.

  Miss Hall.

  I’m not very well to-day, Mrs. Insoley.

  Mrs. Insoley.

  Oh, nonsense! You’re in the best of health. And you can take the dog with you.

  Miss Hall.

  Very well, Mrs. Insoley.

  [Miss Vernon and Miss Hall go out.

  Mrs. Insoley.

  Louisa’s very troublesome sometimes. She fancies she’s not feeling well. But she’s twenty-five years younger than I am, and I’ve never had a day’s illness in my life.

  [Moore opens the door for Gann, who comes into the room, cap in hand, and stands at the door awkwardly. He is in his working clothes.

  Claude.

  Good afternoon, Gann.

  Gann.

  Good afternoon, sir. Peggy said you wished to see me, sir.

  Grace.

  I asked her to bring you here, Gann. I thought it would be better if
you spoke to Mr. Insoley.

  Gann.

  I’ve got nothing to say to Mr. Insoley, ma’am.

  Claude.

  I was hoping to find you in a more reasonable state of mind, Gann. You know, you can only hurt yourself by being pig-headed and stubborn.

  Gann.

  I didn’t know as how I was, sir.

  Claude.

  [To Grace.] You see, the man doesn’t give me a chance.

  Gann.

  [Making an effort on himself.] Please, Squire, I come to know if I’m really to go to-morrow? I know you said you’d send me away, Squire. But I couldn’t bring myself to believe you meant it.

  Claude.

  I’m willing to listen to anything you’ve got to say. I want to be quite fair to you.

  Gann.

  If I could only make you see as what you ask ain’t possible, I’m sure you’d let us stay. There’s nowhere Peggy can go to.

  Claude.

  Hang it all, Mrs. Insoley’ll do all she can for her. You may be quite sure that Peggy shan’t want for money.

  Gann.

  It isn’t money the girl wants. If I send ‘er away she’ll just go to the bad altogether.

  Claude.

  You see, it’s a matter of principle, Gann. It would be devilish unjust to make an exception in your favour.

  Gann.

  [Stepping forward with surly indignation and facing Claude.] I love the girl and I can’t bear to part with ‘er. She’s a good girl in her ‘eart, only she’s had a misfortune.

  Claude.

  That’s all very fine and large, Gann. But if she’d been a good girl, hang it all, she’d have had power to resist temptation.

  Grace.

  [Terrified.] Claude, you don’t know what you’re saying.

  Claude.

  I don’t want to rub it in and all that sort of thing, but my own feeling is that if she came rather a cropper, it was because she was — if you don’t mind my saying so — because she was that way inclined. I don’t think anyone can accuse me of being a hard man, but I’m afraid I haven’t much pity for women who....

  Grace.

  [Interrupting.] Claude, don’t go on — for God’s sake.

  Gann.

  That’s your last word, Squire? If the girl don’t go, I must?

  Claude.

  I’m afraid so.

  Gann.

  I’ve served you faithful, man and boy, for forty years. And I was born in that there cottage I live in now. If you turn us out where are we to go to? I’m getting on in years, and I shan’t find it easy to get another job. It’ll mean the work’us.

  Claude.

  I’m very sorry. I can’t do anything for you. You’ve had your chance and you’ve refused to take it.

  [Gann turns his cap round nervously. His face is distorted with agony. He opens his mouth to speak, but no words come, only an inarticulate groan. He turns on his heel.

  Claude.

  In consideration of your long service I’ll give you fifty pounds so that you can tide over the next few months.

  Gann.

  [Violently.] You can keep your dirty money.

  [He goes out. Grace goes up to Claude desperately.

  Grace.

  Oh, Claude, you can’t do it. You’ll break the man’s heart. Haven’t you any pity? Haven’t you any forgiveness?

  Claude.

  It’s no good, Grace. I must stick to what I’ve said.

  Grace.

  It’s not often I’ve begged you to do anything for me.

  Claude.

  Well, hang it all, this is the first time I’ve ever refused.

  Grace.

  [Bitterly.] I suppose because I’ve never asked you for anything before that wasn’t absolutely trifling.

  Mrs. Insoley.

  Why are you making such a point of it, Grace?

  Grace.

  Is it very strange that I should feel sorry for anyone who’s in distress?

  Claude.

  I’ll do anything in the world to please you, darling, but in this case you must trust to my better judgment.

  Grace.

  How can you be so hard?

  Claude.

  Come, Grace, don’t be angry with me. It’s bad enough as it is.

  Mrs. Insoley.

  I have no patience with you, Claude. When your father made up his mind to do anything it was done, and it would never have occurred to me to oppose him.

  Archibald.

  [With a twinkle in his eye.] You forget, mother, that was because you generally made up my father’s mind some time before he did.

  Grace.

  [To Mrs. Insoley and Archibald.] Will you leave me alone with Claude. I must talk to him alone.

  Archibald.

  Come, mother. Let me take you for a stroll three times round the garden.

  [Mrs. Insoley and Archibald go out.

  Grace.

  I couldn’t say it before them. They’d never understand. They’d only sneer. But can’t you see, Claude, that it’s out of the question to drive Gann away so callously? He loves the place just as much as you love it.... In my heart I seem to feel suddenly all that his shabby little cottage means to him — the woods and coverts and the meadows and the trees. His life is bound up with Kenyon. His roots are in the earth as if he were a growing thing. Can’t you see what it must mean to him to leave it?

  Claude.

  He only goes because he’s headstrong and obstinate. He’s the Somersetshire peasant all over. You do your best for them and you get no gratitude. You try to reason with them, but you can’t get a single idea into their thick heads.

  Grace.

  You can’t punish him because he’s stupid and dull. You’re throwing him upon the world in his old age. It means starvation.

  Claude.

  You must know that I’m only doing it because I think it’s my duty.

  Grace.

  [Impatiently.] Oh, men always talk of their duty when they want to be odiously cruel.

  Claude.

  Grace, how can you be so unkind to me?

  Grace.

  Oh, Claude, if you love me at all, give in to me this time. You don’t know what it means to me. I’ve often been horrible to you, but I’m going to be different. I want to love you. I want to be more to you than I’ve ever been. Claude, I implore you to do what I ask you — just because I ask it, because you love me.

  Claude.

  [Withdrawing himself a little.] I could not love you, dear, so much, loved I not honour....

  Grace.

  [Interrupting passionately.] Oh, no, don’t, Claude; for God’s sake be sincere and natural. Can’t you forget that you’re a landed proprietor and a J.P. and all the rest of it, and remember that you’re only a man, as weak and as — as frail as the rest of us? You hope to be forgiven yourself, and you’re utterly pitiless.

  Claude.

  My darling, it’s just as much for your sake that I’m firm.

  Grace.

  [Impatiently.] Oh, how can you make phrases! What on earth have I got to do with it?

  Claude.

  Hang it all, don’t you see that it’s because of you that I can’t give way? It’s beastly having to say it. It makes me feel such an ass.

  Grace.

  [Beginning to be frightened.] What have I got to do with it?

  Claude.

  Until I knew you I don’t suppose I had a higher opinion of women than most men, but you taught me what a — what a stunning fine thing a good woman is.

  Grace.

  [Hoarsely.] It’s perfectly absurd. It’s — it’s unreasonable. I’ve not been.... Only the other day you said I was cold. And just now you told me I was unkind.

  Claude.

  I dare say that’s all my fault. I expect I bore you sometimes. After all, I know you’re worth about six of me. I can’t expect you to love me as I love you.

  Grace.

  D’you mean to say that if I weren’t — what you think me,
you wouldn’t insist on that poor girl going away?

  Claude.

  I don’t suppose I should feel quite the same about it.

  Grace.

  [Trying to keep back her sobs.] It’s so unreasonable.

  Claude.

  Even if it weren’t for the rule of the estate, I couldn’t let her live in the same place as you. I can’t help it. It’s just a sort of instinct. It simply disgusts me to think that you may meet that — that woman when you walk about, and her kid.

  Grace.

  Oh, Claude, you don’t know what you’re saying.

  Claude.

  When I heard she’d been here and you’d been talking to her, I felt almost sick.

  Grace.

  [Breaking down.] Oh, I can’t bear it.

  Claude.

  Come, darling, don’t let’s quarrel any more. It hurts me so awfully.

  Grace.

  [To herself.] Oh, I can’t. I can’t.

  Claude.

  Say you forgive me, darling.

  Grace.

  I?... If I weren’t what you.... Oh, it’s too much to ask anyone. Claude, I beseech you to give way.

  [He shakes his head. She falls back in despair, realising that there is no way to move him.

  Grace.

  Oh, what a punishment!

  [The sound of a gong is heard. Claude looks at his watch.

  Claude.

  By Jove, I had no idea it was so late. There’s the dressing gong. You must hurry up.

  Grace.

  [Looking at him vaguely.] What is it?

  Claude.

  Time to dress for dinner, darling. You won’t be late, will you? You know how mother hates to be kept waiting.

  Grace.

  [Dully.] No, I won’t be late.

  [He takes her hand and presses it, then hurries out. She has given him her hand inertly, and it falls heavily to her side as he drops it. She remains standing where he left her. She tries to stifle the tearless sobs that seem to choke her. The Butler comes in.

  Moore.

  Peggy Gann wishes to know if you want to see her again, madam.

  Grace.

  [With a start.] Has she been waiting all this time?

  Moore.

  Yes’m. She didn’t know as Gann had left. He never come back to the servants’ hall.

  Grace.

  Tell her to come here.

  Moore.

  Very good, madam.

  [He goes out. In a moment he opens the door for Peggy Gann.

  Grace.

  Oh, Peggy, how ill you look! I’ve been able to do nothing for you.

  Peggy.

  [With a cry of distress.] Oh, mum, I was hoping. You said you’d do your best for me.

 

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