by Unknown
MOIRA (amazed). But won’t he tire of marbles?
LORD CARLTON. Oh yes, we tire of them, but we go on playing.
MOIRA. But when he gets married?
LORD CARLTON. They will both play. (Sits in chair at table.)
MOIRA. If I married him I should soon put a stop to his marbles.
LORD CARLTON. And why shouldn’t you marry him?
MOIRA (quickly). I can’t promise. (Politely) You see, I don’t know him.
LORD CARLTON. No — he’s rather like me.
MOIRA. Oh, if he’s like you and loved me very very dearly perhaps I might have him.
LORD CARLTON (pleased). Do you like me, Moira?
MOIRA (earnestly). Very, very much indeed.
LORD CARLTON (after pluming himself). I am trying to picture you, my dear, in my set.
MOIRA. Are you very rich?
LORD CARLTON. So rich that sometimes I think I shall be ruined in incometax.
MOIRA. Perhaps — perhaps you are a lord.
LORD CARLTON (sorry). Now you are going to spoil everything. Yes, Moira, I am a lord. (Rises and crosses to fireplace.)
MOIRA (rises). Oh, lord — please be a better man for Grandpa’s sake!
LORD CARLTON (turning to her). Hullo!
MOIRA. Grandpa knows all about you.
LORD CARLTON. I hope not everything.
MOIRA. Everything. (As something Grandpa has told her.)
Your blood is not really blue, you know.
LORD CARLTON. Alas, no.
MOIRA (puzzled). Then what’s the difference between you and the likes of us? Have you black roofs to your mouths?
LORD CARLTON. I mustn’t betray the secrets of my class. So Grandpa doesn’t think much of us, Moira?
MOIRA. Oh yes, he does — he loves you! And he says that anything you do that’s wrong is not really your fault, it is because you are so ill.
LORD CARLTON. Oho! That’s it, is it?
MOIRA. You are so very unwell all of you. That prescription won’t do you much good.
LORD CARLTON. Well, I thought Grandpa seemed rather sceptical.
MOIRA. That’s not what’s the matter with you.
LORD CARLTON. What isn’t?
MOIRA. Why, what the doctor says it is.
LORD CARLTON. Gad, I’ve suspected that. What is the matter with us, Moira?
MOIRA. Oh, I don’t know. Nobody knows except Grandpa. I think it is all in the book. (Impressively) Grandpa is writing a book about you.
LORD CARLTON. Is he?
MOIRA. Yes, it’s in the safe.
LORD CARLTON (going to safe). Ha!
MOIRA. It is locked.
LORD CARLTON. I feel terrified — you are sure it is about us?
(Sits in armchair.)
MOIRA. I think it is not so much about you as how to cure you.
LORD CARLTON. Grandpa is sure he can cure us?
MOIRA (confident). Oh yes, it’s quite simple.
LORD CARLTON. Is it, by Jove!
MOIRA. You see, there is a spring in you all that is not working — and Grandpa is going to touch the spring and set you all going again.
LORD CARLTON. That will be ripping! And why is Grandpa going to do this, Moira i MOIRA. Because he is an Irishman with a passionate love for the English people.
LORD CARLTON. Ah!
MOIRA. And I’m to help him — I don’t know how — but I am to help! (Sits in chair.)
LORD CARLTON. So! He is a deuce of a fellow this Grandpa!
(Sorry for him — goes to her.) Grandpa isn’t a little odd, is he, Moira?
MOIRA. Odd? Grandpa is a wonderful man, lord. (Proudly)
And as he walks down the street thinking great thoughts and saying them to himself, the neighbours go like this. (Taps her forehead.)
LORD CARLTON. And what do they mean by that?
MOIRA. They mean what an intellect Grandpa has.
LORD CARLTON. Poor little girl!
(Is very sorry for her and is patting her when enter MR. REILLY with the powders.)
MR REILLY. I fear I have exceeded my time.
LORD CARLTON. I think not; you see I have been pleasantly occupied in making a new friend.
MR. REILLY. She is a good girl. Those are the powders, my lord — one and three.
LORD CARLTON. I am much OBLIGED. (Pays with two shilling piece.)
MR. REILLY. DO you mind coppers?
LORD CARLTON. Not at all.
(MR. REILLY counts out and gives LORD CARLTON ninepence in coppers.)
MR. REILLY. Nine. Thank you, my lord.
(They both have superfine manners here.) I hope the powders will do you good.
LORD CARLTON (getting hat off chest of drawers). Thanks, and in the same spirit may I wish you success in — any little affair you may have in hand.
(MR. REILLY bows and goes into shop, LORD CARLTON goes up to MOIRA and shakes hands with her.)
LORD CARLTON. Goodbye, Moira.
MOIRA. Goodbye, lord.
LORD CARLTON. Dear Moira!
MOIRA. Dear lord!
(LORD CARLTON exits, MOIRA turns to her basket, takes up work, LORD CARLTON again appears at door, having returned; he calls to MOIRA.)
LORD CARLTON. Mother!
(She turns round inquiringly. He signs that he has said it to deceive the children. She signs with pleased smile that she understands, they nod their heads at one another. Exit LORD CARLTON through shop. MR. REILLY sees him out, lowers gas in shop till the shop is vaguely seen and returns to MOIRA, who has been seeing that the children are all right, and looking through window into shop.)
MOIRA (by door leading from shop, dragging him down). Grandpa, he is one of them — he is a lord.
MR. REILLY (stirred). I know. My child, are they not splendid — these English!
MOIRA. Oh, Grandpa — they are beautiful.
MR. REILLY. They have not their equals in the world.
(Pauses — stops looking in front of him.) But they are very ill.
(Unties his apron, puts it on arm of chair, and then he sits in chair by fire thinking deeply.)
MOIRA (sitting on table). Have you closed for the night, Grandpa?
(He is thinking too profoundly to hear her; almost without his knowing it, she takes off his coat, puts his dressing-gown on him and slippers on his feet — makes him comfortable like a mother a child, MOIRA kneels by chair.)
MR. REILLY (to himself). Strange, but a fair omen.
MOIRA. What, Grandpa?
MR. REILLY. That one of them should come here on this night of nights!
MOIRA. Because it is my birthday!
MR. REILLY. Oh, your birthday, my child.
MOIRA. Yes. Don’t you remember? I am twelve to-day.
(Rises off her knees.) We have been having such fun. Look!
(She takes from table a -paper cap that has come out of a cracker and puts it on her head, where it remains.) Don’t you want to kiss me on my birthday, Grandpa?
MR. REILLY. Yes, my child.
(She is pleased and runs to him gaily and holds up her face, but he has already forgotten her in deep thoughts. She is so disappointed that she cries a little, then bravely conquers her feelings.)
MOIRA (Sits sewing — brightly). Are you going to write tonight, Grandpa?
MR. REILLY. No, Moira — I am never to write any more.
MOIRA. Never to write any more! Why, I can’t remember a night when you were not writing the book.
MR. REILLY. Your mother used to say that to me also, my dear — often, often. I remember another young woman who sat by that fire watching the book grow — she was your grandmother, Moira. Wife, child, grandchild! (Rises) Moira!
(Gets key off chain which is round his neck.) Bring me the book.
(MOIRA takes key, goes to safe which she unlocks, MR.
REILLY crosses to writing-table to receive books, puts spectacles on. He moves the workbasket to the top end of the table to make room for it. The book is in three formidable volumes. She brin
gs first Volumes 1 and 2, which are so heavy that she carries them with difficulty in her arms. As MR. REILLY takes books, she lifts workbasket off the table and places it under the table. He takes the two volumes, placing them side by side. Sits and gloats over them, opens Vol. 2, is looking at it when MOIRA brings Vol. 3 which contains a piece of blottingpaper. He closes Vol. 2 placing Vol. 3 on it, finally leaving it open at blank page where the blottingpaper is.)
MOIRA (pathetically). How you love them, Grandpa, you wouldn’t forget to kiss them.
MR. REILLY. My book! Moira, here am I — not this weary frame that is almost worn quite away, but this — this is what I have grown into — in this I shall pass young and hale down the ages. (Leans head on book — rises — points to where pen is on chest of drawers.) Moira, the pen!
MOIRA. But I thought you were to write no more.
(Gets inkstand with pen in it from chest of drawers AND puts them on table by books.)
MR REILLY (puts moira in his seat). There are but two words to write. I thought once my wife should write them and then I thought your mother, but you shall write them, my child.
(Puts MOIRA in his chair, then takes pen, dips it into the inkstand, gives it to MOIRA, points to book.)
Write here—’ The End.’ MOIRA. The End, Grandpa?
MR. REILLY. The book is finished. Write—’ The End.’ (She writes. He stands over her watching.)
The end! The end!
(Blots book, takes it, looks at it, shuts it, puts it down on Vol. 2, takes off spectacles, puts them on Vol. 3, leaves top of table and sits in chair.)
MR. REILLY. My end!
MOIRA (going to him). Dearest! Dearest!
MR. REILLY. I am a little agitated, Lucy.
MOIRA. I am Moira, dear; mother was Lucy.
MR. REILLY (pats her hand). I sometimes forget you are the little Moira who has never said a word against the book. They tired of it — they hated the book. It was because I experimented on them. They didn’t like that. Women are strange.
MOIRA (goes to him). But you said I should read the book when the time came.
MR. REILLY. The time has come! (Taking Vol. 1 off table and holding it) You shall read it, Moira, and I shall sit and watch you read it, and after I am gone you shall still sit reading it. I have saved money for you, my child, for six years, and all that time until you are eighteen you shall do nothing but read the book.
MOIRA. Oh, Grandpa, how I shall love it.
MR. REILLY. And then you shall go out among the great ones and make converts.
MOIRA. I shall? (Backs a little.)
MR. REILLY. You, Moira!
MOIRA (afraid). But you will come with me?
MR. REILLY. I shall always be with you, for the book is I. You must carry me about with you everywhere — but no eyes but yours must see me. Not even those you are curing must know the nature of the cure. It would startle them too much. These noble ones must be saved by stealth.
MOIRA. But won’t that be deceiving, Grandpa?
MR. REILLY. It is for their great good.
MOIRA. And am I not to be truthful any more? I can’t do it, I can’t do it.
MR. REILLY (fiercely). You refuse? (Rises.) Then all my life work is for naught, and into the fire I go. (Crosses to fireplace. Threatens to burn the book.)
MOIRA (crosses to him, appalled). No, no, Grandpa! I will do it, I will do it.
(Restrains him by putting hand on his arm.)
MR. REILLY (with feeling). My child — I am a little sorry for you, for I cannot but see in what career — (Looks at cots) — your greatest happiness would have lain. But we are doing it for the good of the dear Saxons. For England, Moira, from the grateful Irish.
MOIRA. I don’t love them as much as I did.
MR. REILLY. To save him who was here just now.
MOIRA. Oh, I should love to save him.
MR. REILLY. Self must be sacrificed and all your aspirations turned into the path of duty.
MOIRA (feverishly). Yes, yes.
MR. REILLY (indicating cots). All these must go.
MOIRA (alarmed). The children! Grandpa! Oh, that would kill me.
MR. REILLY. Nothing must interfere with the book.
MOIRA. And am I to have nothing to mother?
MR. REILLY. What an ordinary woman your desire craves to make you — and what an extraordinary woman you are to be! Sit down, Moira.
(MOIRA sits.)
Sit down here by the fire, and begin your studies. (Goes up for lamp.) My old eyes are hungering to see you as you will be for the NEXT six years. (Has lamp and holds it in front for moira to read by.)
(She is sitting dubiously by the fire with Vol. 1. He stands looking at her with lamp in hand. Gloating.)
What is it called, my child — read the title.
MOIRA. ‘The Medium, or how to cure our best people,’ a pamphlet by Terence Reilly.
MR. REILLY. When I began it I meant it to be a pamphlet.
MOIRA. What is the Medium, Grandpa?
MR. REILLY (uneasy). H’sh, the book will tell you. Begin, Moira, begin.
(She begins reading, and after watching her he exits into the shop with lamp. At his exit, finding the light gone, she looks round, then goes on her knees nearer the fire and reads by its light. He watches her through the window from the shop, still holding lamp.)
ACT II
LADY GEORGY’S country cottage. The scene is in the courtyard. This courtyard is enclosed on all three sides, at back and on right by the house, and on the left by a fine yew hedge. The walls of the house are white and solid, in centre of back wall is a quaintly narrow door, the upper half of which is in glass panes.
This door is practical and opens into a morning-room. On each side of the door is a pretty window, and though the room cannot be seen through the windows, you can see through them and through windows on other side of the house, a pretty piece of garden bathed in sunlight. The right side of the house has french windows opening on to courtyard. The suggestion is that the house is large and irregular and straggling in the cottage style. Against the wall are cherry trees with ripe fruit. The yew hedge is clipped artificially to represent a peacock, etc. On top and in centre of it is an opening leading into garden. Trifolium in its red berry is clinging to the hedge in patches and also growing against the back wall. At foot of wall and hedge a border of flowers, mostly purple, grow around. Clematis especially is in evidence. There are no roses. In the courtyard is a pedestal with sundial painted on it. The courtyard is paved with flagstones broken into irregular pieces. Part of it has gone green with age and damp. There is one comfortable boudoir chair with cushion. There is one stone seat with cushion. There are no canvas chairs of the kind common in gardens. On the other side of the hedge grows a cherry tree, the top of which is conspicuously laden with fruit.
(LADY GEORGY is seated on seat, book in hand. She is A handsome, fashionable woman; from the way she fidgets she is evidently restless. She is looking at a window as if expecting something to happen. She rises, she sighs, goes aimlessly and looks through opening in hedge, then turns and goes quickly towards window and stamps foot IN irritation because nothing happens. Enter CECIL from door at back which is just wide enough to admit one person. He is quite a nice boy of twenty-one. He is preoccupied and comes down stage and addresses audience. Busy with pipe.)
CECIL. Ladies and gentlemen — may I say friends?
LADY GEORGY. What! Oh! I hope you slept well, Cecil.
CECIL. Thanks, Aunt Georgy, only so-so. (Puzzled) I sleep all right in the daytime but somehow I can’t sleep at night. I suppose it’s something in the air. (Seeing she is not attending to him, returns to audience) Ladies and gentlemen, may I say friends?
LADY GEORGY (irritated). Oh, do say friends.
CECIL (good-naturedly contrite). I say, am I a worry?
LADY GEORGY. Oh, no, but really, Cecil, as you have only been engaged a fortnight, I think it is rather unnecessary that you should be making up your speech for the wedding br
eakfast already.