Delphi Collected Works of W. Somerset Maugham (Illustrated)
Page 390
Taylor.
Gee whiz, you meant it.
Norah.
[Aghast.] It wasn’t loaded.
Taylor.
Of course it wasn’t loaded. D’you think I’d have stood there and told you to shoot if it had been? I guess I ain’t thinking of committing suicide.
Norah.
And I almost admired you.
Taylor.
You hadn’t got no reason to. There’s nothing to admire about a man who stands five feet off a loaded gun that’s being aimed at him. He’s a darned fool, that’s all.
Norah.
[Throwing the gun aside angrily.] You were laughing at me. Now I’ll never forgive you.
Taylor.
You’d have had me dead as mutton if that gun had been loaded. You’re a sport. I never thought you had it in you.
Norah.
I’ll never forgive you.
Taylor.
You’re the girl for me, I guess.
[Before she is prepared he flings his arms round her and tries to kiss her. She struggles desperately, turning her face away from him.]
Norah.
Let me alone. I’ll kill myself if you touch me.
Taylor.
I guess you won’t.
[He gives her a resounding kiss on the cheek and lets her go. Sinking into a chair, she puts her hands up to her flaming cheeks.]
Norah.
Oh, how shameful, how shameful.
[She sobs in helpless, angry despair. He puts his hand gently on her shoulder.]
Taylor.
Hadn’t you better cave in, my girl? You’ve tried your strength against mine and it didn’t amount to much. You tried to shoot me and I only made you look a darned fool. I guess you’re beat, my girl. There’s only one law here, and that’s the law of the strongest. You’ve got to do what I want because I can make you.
Norah.
Haven’t you any generosity?
Taylor.
Not the kind you want, I guess.
Norah.
Oh, I’m so unhappy.
Taylor.
Listen. [He puts up his finger and seems to listen intently. She looks at him, but does not speak.] Listen to the silence. Can’t you hear it, the silence of the prairie? Why, we might be the only two people in the world, you and me, here in this shack right out in the prairie. Listen. There ain’t a sound. It might be the garden of Eden. What’s that about male and female created He them? I guess you’re my wife, my girl, and I want you. [She gives him a sidelong look of terror, but still does not speak. He takes the lamp and goes to the bedroom door. He opens it and, holding the lamp up high, looks at her. Just to do something she takes the dishcloth and rubs the table with it. She wants to gain time.] I guess it’s getting late. You’ll be able to have a good clean out to-morrow.
Norah.
To-morrow.
[A look of shame, fear, anguish, passes over her face, and then, violently, a convulsive shudder runs through her whole body. She puts her hands to her eyes and walks slowly to the door.]
END OF THE THIRD ACT
ACT IV
Scene: The same as in the previous act, Frank Taylor’s shack at Prentice, but there are signs about it of a woman’s presence. There is a cloth on the table, and a cushion on the rocking-chair, there are muslin curtains on the window tied back with ribband, and there are geraniums growing in maple-syrup tins. There is a rough bookshelf against the wall, on which is Norah’s small stock of books. Coloured supplements from the Christmas numbers of illustrated papers are pinned neatly on the walls. The packing-cases which had been used as stools have been replaced by rough chairs which Taylor has made with his own hands during the winter. When the door of the shack is opened the blue sky is seen and the prairie. Norah is arranging mustard flowers in a pudding basin on the table. She wears a serge skirt and a neat shirt-waist: she has a healthier look than before, her face is tanned and she has a higher colour. She hears a sound and looks up. Taylor enters.
Norah.
I didn’t know you were about.
Taylor.
I ain’t got much to do to-day. I’ve been out with Sid Sharp and a man come over from Prentice.
Norah.
Oh!
Taylor.
[Noticing the flowers.] Say, what have you got there?
Norah.
Aren’t they pretty? I picked them just now. They’re so cheerful.
Taylor.
[Drily.] Very.
Norah.
A few flowers make the shack look so much more bright and cosy.
Taylor.
[Looking round him.] You’ve made it a real home, Norah. Mrs. Sharp never stops wondering how you done it. Sid was saying only the other day it was because you was a lady. It does make a difference, I guess.
Norah.
[With a little smile.] I’m glad you haven’t found me quite a hopeless failure.
Taylor.
I guess I’ve never been so comfortable in all my life. It’s what I always said — when English girls do take to the life they make a better job of it than anybody.
Norah.
What’s the man come out from Prentice for?
Taylor.
[After a moment’s pause.] I guess you ain’t been terribly happy here, my girl.
Norah.
What on earth makes you say that?
Taylor.
You’ve got a good memory, I guess, and you ain’t ever forgiven me for that first night.
Norah.
[Looking down.] I made up my mind very soon that I must accept the consequences of what I’d done. I tried to fall in with your ways.
Taylor.
You was clever enough to see that I meant to be master in my own house, and I had the strength to do it.
Norah.
[With a faint smile.] I’ve cooked for you and mended your clothes, and I’ve kept the shack clean. I’ve been obedient and obliging.
Taylor.
[With a little chuckle.] I guess you hated me sometimes.
Norah.
No one likes being humiliated as you humiliated me.
Taylor.
Ed’s coming out here presently, my girl.
Norah.
Ed who?
Taylor.
Your brother.
Norah.
[Astounded.] Eddie? When?
Taylor.
Why, right now, I guess. He was in Prentice this morning.
Norah.
How d’you know?
Taylor.
He phoned over to Sharp’s to say he was riding out.
Norah.
Oh, how ripping! Why didn’t you tell me before?
Taylor.
I didn’t know.
Norah.
Is that why you asked me if I was happy? I couldn’t make out what was the matter with you.
Taylor.
Well, I guess I thought if you still wanted to quit, Ed’s coming would be kind of useful.
Norah.
Why d’you think I want to?
Taylor.
You ain’t been very talkative these months, but I guess it wasn’t hard to see you’d have given pretty near anything in the world to quit.
Norah.
I’m not going back to Eddie’s farm, if that’s what you mean.
Taylor.
If he comes before I get back, tell him I won’t be long. I guess you won’t be sorry to do a bit of yarning with him by yourself.
Norah.
You’re not under the impression I’m going to say beastly things about you to him?
Taylor.
No, I guess not. That ain’t your sort. P’raps we don’t know the best of one another yet, but I reckon we know the worst by now.
Norah.
[Looking at him sharply.] Frank, is anything the matter?
Taylor.
Why, no. Why?
Norah.
You’ve seemed different the last few days.
&nbs
p; Taylor.
I guess that’s only your fancy. I’d better be getting along. Sid and the other fellow are waiting for me.
[He goes out. Norah looks at him with a puzzled air, then she gives a touch to the flowers, and gets her work. She sits down at the table and begins to mend a thick woollen sock. Suddenly there is a loud knock at the door. She starts up and runs to open it. Edward Marsh is seen standing outside. She gives a cry of delight and flings her arms round his neck. He comes in.]
Norah.
Eddie! Oh, my dear, I’m so glad to see you.
Marsh.
Hulloa there!
Norah.
But how did you come? I never heard a rig.
Marsh.
Look.
[She goes to the door and looks out.]
Norah.
Why, it’s Reggie Hornby. [Calling.] Reggie.
Hornby.
[Outside.] Hulloa!
Norah.
He can put the horse in the lean-to.
Marsh.
Yes. [Calling.] Reg, give the old lady a feed and put her in the lean-to.
Hornby.
Right-o.
Norah.
Didn’t you see Frank? He’s only just this moment gone out.
Marsh.
No.
Norah.
He’ll be in presently. Now, come in. Oh, my dear, it is splendid to see you.
Marsh.
You’re looking fine, Norah.
Norah.
Have you had dinner?
Marsh.
Sure. We got something to eat before we left Prentice.
Norah.
Well, I’ll make you a cup of tea.
Marsh.
No, I won’t have anything, thanks.
Norah.
You’re not a real Canadian yet if you refuse a cup of tea when it’s offered you. Well, sit down and make yourself comfortable.
Marsh.
How are you getting on, Norah?
Norah.
Oh, never mind about me. Tell me about yourself. How’s Gertie? And what brought you to this part of the world? And what’s Reggie Hornby doing? And is thingamygig still with you? You know, the hired man. What was his name? Trotter, wasn’t it? Oh, my dear, don’t sit there like a stuffed pig, but speak to me, or I shall shake you.
Marsh.
My dear, I can’t answer fifteen questions all at once.
Norah.
Oh, Eddie, I’m so glad to see you. You are a duck to come and see me.
Marsh.
Let me get a word in edgeways.
Norah.
I won’t say another syllable. But for goodness’ sake, hurry up. I want to know all sorts of things.
Marsh.
Well, the first thing is that I’m expecting to be a happy father in three or four months.
Norah.
Oh, Eddie, I’m so glad. How happy Gertie must be!
Marsh.
She doesn’t know what to make of it. But I guess she’s pleased right enough. She sends you her love and says she hopes you’ll follow her example soon.
Norah.
I? But you’ve not told me what you’re doing in this part of the world, anyway.
Marsh.
[Smiling.] Anyway?
Norah.
[With a laugh.] I’ve practically spoken to no one but Frank for months. I get into his ways of speaking.
Marsh.
Well, when I got Frank’s letter about the clearing machine....
Norah.
[Interrupting him.] Has Frank written to you?
Marsh.
Why, yes. Didn’t you know? He said there was a clearing machine going cheap at Prentice. I’ve always thought I could make money down our way if I had one. They say you can clear from three to four acres a day with it. Frank said it was worth my while coming to have a look at it, and he guessed you’d be glad to see me.
Norah.
How funny of him not to say anything to me about it.
Marsh.
I expect he wanted to surprise you. Now, how d’you like being a married woman?
Norah.
Oh, all right. Why has Reggie Hornby come with you?
Marsh.
D’you know, I’ve not seen you since you were married.
Norah.
You haven’t, have you?
Marsh.
I’ve been a bit anxious about you. That’s why, when Frank wrote about the clearing machine, I didn’t stop to think about it, but just came.
Norah.
It was very nice of you. But why has Reggie Hornby come?
Marsh.
Oh, he’s going back to England.
Norah.
Is he?
Marsh.
Yes, he got them to send him his passage at last. His ship doesn’t sail till next week, and he said he might just as well stop off here and say good-bye to you.
Norah.
How has he been getting on?
Marsh.
What do you expect? He looks upon work as something that only damned fools do. Where’s Frank?
Norah.
Oh, he’s out with Sid Sharp. That’s our neighbour. He has the farm you passed on your way here.
Marsh.
Getting on all right with him, Norah?
Norah.
Of course. What’s that boy doing all this time? He is slow, isn’t he?
Marsh.
It’s a great change for you, this, after the sort of life you’ve been used to.
Norah.
[To change the topic.] I was rather hoping you’d have some letters for me. I haven’t had any for a long time.
Marsh.
There now, I’ve got a head like a sieve. Two came by the last mail and I didn’t send them on because I was coming myself.
Norah.
You haven’t forgotten them?
Marsh.
No, here they are.
Norah.
[Reading the addresses.] They don’t look very exciting. One’s from Agnes Pringle. She was a lady’s companion that I used to know in Tunbridge Wells. And the other’s from Mr. Wynne.
Marsh.
Who’s he?
Norah.
Oh, he was Miss Wickham’s solicitor. He wrote to me once before to say he hoped I was getting on all right. [Putting the letters on the table.] I don’t think I want to hear from people in England any more.
Marsh.
My dear, why d’you say that?
Norah.
It’s no good thinking of the past, is it?
Marsh.
Aren’t you going to read your letters?
Norah.
Not now. I’ll read them when I’m alone.
Marsh.
Don’t mind me.
Norah.
It’s so silly of me, but letters from England always make me cry.
Marsh.
[Looking at her sharply.] Norah, aren’t you happy here?
Norah.
Yes, why shouldn’t I be?
Marsh.
Why haven’t you written to me once since you were married?
Norah.
I hadn’t got much to say. [With a smile.] And after all, I’d been practically turned out of your house.
Marsh.
[Puzzled.] I don’t know what to make of you.
Norah.
[Nervous and almost exasperated.] Oh, don’t cross-examine me, there’s a dear.
Marsh.
Frank Taylor’s kind to you and all that sort of thing, isn’t he?
Norah.
Quite.
Marsh.
When I asked you to come and stay on the farm I thought it wouldn’t be long before you married, but I didn’t expect you’d marry one of the hired men.
Norah.
Oh, my dear, don’t worry about me.
Marsh.
It’s all very fine to say that. You’ve got no one in the world belonging to you but me, and when
— when our mother died, she said: “You’ll take care of Norah, won’t you, Eddie?”
Norah.
[With a sob in her voice.] Oh, don’t, don’t.
Marsh.
Norah.
Norah.
[With an effort at self-possession.] We’ve never quarrelled since the first day I came here. Here’s Reggie.
[She turns to him with relief. Hornby is dressed in a blue serge suit and again looks like a well-groomed English gentleman.]
Norah.
[Gaily.] I was wondering what on earth you were doing with yourself.
Hornby.
[Shaking hands with her.] I say, this is a very swell shack you’ve got.
Norah.
I’ve tried to make it look pretty and homelike.
[Marsh catches sight of the bowl of mustard flowers.]
Marsh.
Hulloa, what’s this?
Norah.
Aren’t they pretty? I’ve only just picked them. Mustard flowers.
Marsh.
We call it weed. Have you got much of it?
Norah.
Oh yes, lots. Why?
Marsh.
Oh, nothing.
Norah.
[To Hornby.] I hear you’re going home.
Hornby.
Yes, I’m fed up with God’s own country. Nature never intended me to be an agricultural labourer.
Norah.
What are you going to do now?
Hornby.
[With immense conviction.] Loaf!
Norah.
[Amused.] Won’t you get bored?
Hornby.
I’m never bored. It amuses me to look at other people do things. I should hate my fellow creatures to be idle.
Norah.
[With a faint smile.] I should have thought one could do more with life than lounge about clubs and play cards with people who don’t play as well as oneself.
Hornby.
I quite agree with you. I’ve been thinking things over very seriously this winter. And I’m going to look out for a middle-aged widow with money who’ll adopt me.
Norah.
I remember that you have decided views about the White Man’s Burden.
Hornby.
All I want is to get through life comfortably. I don’t mean to do a stroke more work than I’m obliged to, and I’m going to have the very best time I can get.
Norah.
[Smiling.] I’m sure you will.
Hornby.
The moment I get back to London I’m going to stand myself a slap-up dinner at the Ritz, then I shall go and see a musical comedy at the Gaiety, and after that I’ll have a slap-up supper at Romano’s. England, with all thy faults, I love thee well.
Norah.
I suppose it’s being alone with the prairie all these months, things which used to seem rather funny and clever — well, I see them quite differently now.