Hornby.
[Coolly.] I’m afraid you don’t altogether approve of me.
Norah.
[Not disagreeably.] You haven’t got pluck.
Hornby.
I don’t know about that. I expect I have as much as anyone else, only I don’t make a fuss about it.
Norah.
Oh, pluck to stand up and let yourself be shot at — I daresay. But pluck to do the same monotonous thing day after day, plain, honest, hard work — you haven’t got that. You’re a failure, and the worst of it is, you’re not ashamed of it. It fills you with self-satisfaction.
Hornby.
Rule Britannia, and what price the Union Jack?
Norah.
[With a laugh.] You’re incorrigible.
Hornby.
I am.... I suppose there’s nothing you want me to take home. I shall be going down to Tunbridge Wells to see mother. Got any messages?
Norah.
I don’t know that I have. Eddie has just brought me a couple of letters. I’ll have a look at them. [She opens Miss Pringle’s letter, reads two or three lines, and gives a cry.] Oh!
Marsh.
What’s the matter?
Norah.
What does she mean? [Reading.] “I’ve just heard from Mr. Wynne about your good luck, and I have another piece of good news for you.” [She puts the letter down and quickly opens the solicitor’s. She takes out of the envelope a letter and a cheque. She glances at it.] A cheque — for five hundred pounds.... Oh, Eddie, listen. [Reading.] “Dear Miss Marsh, — I have had several interviews with Mr. Wickham in relation to the late Miss Wickham’s estate, and I ventured to represent to him that you had been very badly treated. Now that everything is settled he wishes to send you the enclosed cheque as some recognition of your devoted service to his late aunt....” Five hundred pounds!
Marsh.
That’s a very respectable sum.
Hornby.
I could do with that myself.
Norah.
I’ve never had so much money in all my life.
Marsh.
But what’s the other piece of good news that Miss Stick-in-the-mud talks about?
Norah.
Oh, I forgot. [She takes Miss Pringle’s letter up again and begins to read it.] “...Piece of good news for you. I write at once so that you may make your plans accordingly. I told you in my last letter of my sister-in-law’s sudden death, and now my brother is very anxious that I should live with him. So I am leaving Mrs. Hubbard, and she wishes me to say that if you care to have my place as her companion she will be very pleased to have you. I have been with her for thirteen years, and she has always treated me like an equal. She is very considerate, and there is practically nothing to do but to exercise the dogs. The salary is thirty-five pounds a year.”
Marsh.
Both letters are addressed to Miss Marsh. Don’t they know you’re married?
Norah.
No. I never told them.
Hornby.
What a lark! You could go back to Tunbridge Wells, and none of the old frumps would ever know you’d been married.
[Norah gives a sudden start when he says this and stares at him with wide-open eyes. There is a moment’s pause.]
Marsh.
Just clear out for a minute, Reg. I want to speak to Norah.
Hornby.
Right-o.
[He goes out.]
Marsh.
Norah, d’you want to clear out?
Norah.
What on earth makes you think that?
Marsh.
You gave him such a look when he mentioned it.
Norah.
I’m bewildered. Did Frank know anything about this?
Marsh.
My dear, how could he?
Norah.
It’s so extraordinary. He was talking about my going away just now.
Marsh.
[Quickly.] Why?
Norah.
Oh!
[She realises that she has betrayed the secret inadvertently.]
Marsh.
Norah, for goodness’ sake tell me if there’s anything the matter. After all, it’s now or never. You’re keeping back something from me. Aren’t you getting on well together?
Norah.
[In a low voice.] Not very.
Marsh.
Why didn’t you let me know?
Norah.
I was ashamed.
Marsh.
But you say he’s kind to you.
Norah.
I’ve got nothing to reproach him with.
Marsh.
I felt that something was wrong. I knew you couldn’t be happy with him. A girl like you and a hired man. The whole thing was horrible. Thank God I’m here and you’ve got this chance.
Norah.
What d’you mean?
Marsh.
You’re not fit for this life. You’ve got a chance to go back to England. For God’s sake take it. In six months all you’ve gone through here will seem nothing but a hideous dream. [He is suddenly struck by the expression of her face.] Norah, what’s the matter?
Norah.
[Tragically.] I don’t know.
[Hornby comes in again.]
Hornby.
I say, here’s someone coming to see you.
Norah.
Me? [She goes to the door and looks out.] Oh, it’s Mrs. Sharp. Whatever brings her here on foot? She never walks a step if she can help it. She’s the wife of my neighbour.... Good-afternoon, Mrs. Sharp.
[Mrs. Sharp enters. She is a middle-aged woman, red in the face, stout and rather short of breath. She wears an old sun-bonnet, a faded shirt-waist, none too clean, and a rather battered skirt.]
Norah.
Come right in.
Mrs. Sharp.
Good-afternoon to you, Mrs. Taylor. I’m all in a perspiration. I’ve not walked so far in months.
Norah.
This is my brother.
Mrs. Sharp.
Your brother? Is that who it is?
Norah.
[Smiling.] It seems to surprise you.
Mrs. Sharp.
I was so anxious, I couldn’t stay indoors. I went out to see if I could catch sight of Sid, and I walked on and then I saw the rig what’s outside, and it give me such a turn, I thought it was the inspector. I just had to come. I was that nervous.
Norah.
Is anything the matter?
Mrs. Sharp.
You’re not going to tell me you don’t know about it? Why, Sid and Frank haven’t been talking about anything else since Frank found it.
Norah.
Found what?
Mrs. Sharp.
The weed.
Marsh.
[With a slight gesture towards the pudding bowl of flowers.] You have got it, then?
Mrs. Sharp.
It’s worse at Taylor’s. But we’ve got it too.
Norah.
What does it mean?
Mrs. Sharp.
We can’t make out who reported us. It isn’t as if we had any enemies.
Marsh.
Oh, there’s always someone to report you. No one’s going to take the risk of letting it get on his own land.
Mrs. Sharp.
[Looking at the mustard blossom.] And she has them in the house as if they were flowers.
Norah.
Tell me what she means, Eddie.
Marsh.
My dear, these pretty little flowers which you’ve picked to make your shack look bright and homelike — they may mean ruin.
Norah.
Eddie!
Marsh.
You must have heard us talk about the weed. We farmers have three enemies to fight — frost, hail, and weed.
Mrs. Sharp.
We was hailed out last year. Lost our crop. We never got a dollar for it. And if we lose it this year too — why, we may just as well quit.
Marsh.
When it gets
into your crop you’ve got to report it, and if you don’t one of the neighbours will. And then they send an inspector along, and if he condemns it, why you just have to destroy the crop, and all your year’s work is lost. You’re lucky if you’ve got a bit of money in the bank and can go on till the next crop comes along.
Mrs. Sharp.
We’ve only got a quarter section and five children. It’s not much money you can save then.
Marsh.
Are they out with the inspector now?
Mrs. Sharp.
Yes. He came out from Prentice this morning.
Marsh.
This is a bad job for Frank.
Mrs. Sharp.
Oh, he hasn’t got the mouths to feed that we have. He can hire out again. But what’s to become of us?
Norah.
I wonder why he never told me.
Mrs. Sharp.
I guess he’s in the habit of keeping his troubles to himself and you’ve not taught him different yet.
[Norah gives her a quick look, but seeing the woman is all on edge with nervousness does not answer.]
Marsh.
You must hope for the best, Mrs. Sharp.
Mrs. Sharp.
Sid says we’ve only got it in one place, but perhaps he’s only saying it so I shouldn’t worry. You know what them inspectors are. They don’t lose nothing by it. It don’t matter to them if you starve all the winter.
[She gives a sob and heavy tears roll down her cheeks.]
Norah.
Oh don’t — don’t cry, Mrs. Sharp. After all, it may be all right.
Marsh.
They won’t condemn the crop unless it’s very bad. Too many people have got their eyes on it. The machine agent, the loan company.
Mrs. Sharp.
What with the hail that comes and hails you out and the frost that kills your crop just when you’re beginning to count on it, and the weed — I can’t bear it any more. If we lose this crop I won’t go on. I’ll make Sid sell out and we’ll go home. We’ll take a little shop somewhere. That’s what I wanted to do from the beginning, but Sid — he had his heart set on farming.
Norah.
You couldn’t go back now. You’d never be happy in a little shop. And if you’d stayed in England you’d have been always at the beck and call of somebody else. And you own the land. You couldn’t do that in England. When you come out of your door and look at the growing wheat, aren’t you proud to think it’s yours?
Mrs. Sharp.
You don’t know what I’ve had to put up with. When the children came, only once I had a doctor. The other times Sid was the only help I had. I might have been an animal. I wish I’d never come to this country.
Norah.
How can you say that! Your children are strong and healthy. Why, they’ll be able to help you in the work soon. You’ve given them a chance that they’d never have got at home.
Mrs. Sharp.
Oh, it’s all very well for them. They’ll have it easy. I know that. But we’ve had to pay for it, Sid and me.
Norah.
You see, you were the first. It’s bitter work opening up a new country and perhaps it’s others who reap the harvest. But I wonder if those who start don’t get a reward that the later comers never dream of.
Marsh.
She’s right there, Mrs. Sharp. I shall never forget what I felt when I saw my first crop spring up and thought that never since the world began had wheat grown on that little bit of ground.... I wouldn’t go back to England now for anything in the world. I couldn’t breathe.
Mrs. Sharp.
You’re a man. You have the best of it and all the credit.
Norah.
People don’t know. You mustn’t blame them. It’s only those who’ve lived out on the prairie who know that the hardships of opening up a new country fall on the women. But the men who are their husbands, they know.
Marsh.
I guess they do, Mrs. Sharp.
[Norah, on her knees beside her, strokes Mrs. Sharp’s hands. Mrs. Sharp gives her a grateful smile.]
Mrs. Sharp.
Thank you for speaking kindly to me, my dear. I’m that nervous, I hardly know what I’m saying.
Norah.
Sid and Frank will be here in a minute, surely.
Mrs. Sharp.
And you’re right, my dear, I couldn’t go back any more. If we lose our crop, well, we must wait till next year. We shan’t starve. One’s got to take the rough with the smooth, and take it all in all, it’s a good country.
[Frank Taylor comes in.]
Norah.
Frank.
Mrs. Sharp.
[Starting to her feet.] Where’s Sid?
Taylor.
Why he’s up at your place. Hulloa, Ed. I saw you coming along in the rig. Morning, Reg. I wasn’t expecting to see you.
Hornby.
Pleasant surprise for you.
Mrs. Sharp.
What’s happened? Tell me what’s happened.
Norah.
Mrs. Sharp came here because she was so anxious.
Taylor.
[Cheerfully.] Oh, you’re all right.
Mrs. Sharp.
[With a gasp.] We are?
Taylor.
Sure. Only a few acres has got to go. That won’t hurt you.
Mrs. Sharp.
Thank God for that. And it’s going to be the best crop we ever had. It’s the finest country in the world.
Taylor.
You’d better be getting back. Sid’s taken the inspector up to give him some dinner.
Mrs. Sharp.
He hasn’t? That’s just like Sid. It’s a mercy there’s plenty. I’ll be getting along right now.
Norah.
Don’t walk. There’s Eddie’s rig. Reggie will drive you over.
Mrs. Sharp.
Oh, thank you kindly. I’m not used to walking so much and I’m tired out. Good-afternoon, Mrs. Taylor.
Norah.
Good-bye. Reggie, you don’t mind driving Mrs. Sharp back? It’s only just over a mile.
Hornby.
Not a bit.
Marsh.
I’ll come and help you put the mare in.
[Mrs. Sharp and Hornby go out.]
Marsh.
I guess it’s a relief to you now you know, Frank.
Taylor.
Terrible.... I’d like to have a talk with you presently, Ed.
Marsh.
Right you are. [He goes.]
Norah.
I’m so thankful it’s all right. Poor thing, she was in such a state.
Taylor.
They’ve got five children to feed. I guess it makes a powerful lot of difference to them.
Norah.
I wish you’d told me before. I felt that something was worrying you and I didn’t know what.
Taylor.
If I saved the crop there didn’t seem any use fussing, and if I didn’t you’d know quite soon enough.
Norah.
How could you bear to let me put the flowers here?
Taylor.
I guess I didn’t mind if it made you happy. You didn’t know they was only a weed. You thought them darned pretty.
Norah.
[With a little smile.] It was very kind of you, Frank.
Taylor.
I guess it’s queer that a darned little flower like that should be able to do so much damage.
Norah.
Why didn’t you tell me you’d written to Eddie?
Taylor.
I guess I forgot.
Norah.
Frank, Eddie brought me some letters from home to-day. I’ve had the offer of a job in England.
[Frank is just going to make an exclamation, but immediately controls himself and answers quite quietly.]
Taylor.
Gee! I guess you’ll take that.
Norah.
It’s funny that you should have been talking just now of my going away.
Taylor.
Very.
Norah.
[A little surprised at his manner.] Have you any objection?
Taylor.
I guess it wouldn’t make a powerful lot of difference to you if I had.
Norah.
What makes you think that?
Taylor.
I guess you only stayed here because you had to.
[She goes over to the little window and looks out at the prairie.]
Norah.
Is life always like that? The things you’ve wanted so dreadfully seem only to bring you pain when they come. [He gives her a quick look, but does not answer, and she notices nothing.] Month after month I used to sit looking at the prairie and sometimes I wanted to scream at the top of my voice just to break the silence. I thought I should never escape. The shack was like a prison. I was hemmed in by the snow and the cold and the stillness.
Taylor.
Are you going to quit right now with Ed?
Norah.
[With a smile.] You seem in a great hurry to be rid of me.
Taylor.
I guess we ain’t made a great success of married life, my girl.... It’s rum when you come to figure it out. I thought I could make you do everything I wanted. It looked as if I held a straight flush. And you beat me.
Norah.
I?
Taylor.
Why, yes. Didn’t you know that?
Norah.
I don’t know what you mean.
Taylor.
I guess I didn’t know how strong a woman could be. You was always givin’ way, you done everything I told you — and all the time you was keepin’ something from me that I couldn’t get at. Whenever I thought to put my hand on you, I guess I found I’d only caught hold of a shadow.
Norah.
I don’t know what more you wanted.
Taylor.
I guess I wanted love.
Norah.
You?
[She looks at him with consternation. His words give her a queer little twist of the heart-strings.]
Taylor.
I know you now less than when you’d only been a week up at Ed’s. I’ve lost the trail and I’m just floundering around in the bush.
Norah.
[In a low voice.] I never knew you wanted love.
Taylor.
I guess I didn’t either.
Norah.
I suppose parting’s always rather painful.
Taylor.
If you go back to the Old Country, I guess — I guess you’ll never come back.
Norah.
[Rather shyly.] Perhaps you’ll come over to England one of these days. If you have a couple of good years you could easily shut the place up and run over for the winter.
Delphi Collected Works of W. Somerset Maugham (Illustrated) Page 391