Becket And Other Plays Part 69

'Till the end o' the daay An' the last load hoam, Load hoam.'

This bridge again! (Steps on the bridge.) How often have I stood With Eva here! The brook among its flowers!

Forget-me-not, meadowsweet, willow-herb.

I had some smattering of science then, Taught her the learned names, anatomized The flowers for her--and now I only wish This pool were deep enough, that I might plunge And lose myself for ever.

_Enter_ DAN SMITH (_singing_).

Gee oop! whoa! Gee oop! whoa!

Scizzars an' Pumpy was good uns to goa Thruf slush an' squad When roads was bad, But hallus ud stop at the Vine-an'-the-Hop, Fur boath on 'em knaw'd as well as mysen That beer be as good fur 'erses as men.

Gee oop! whoa! Gee oop! whoa!

Scizzars an' Pumpy was good uns to goa.

The beer's gotten oop into my 'ead. S'iver I mun git along back to the farm, fur she tell'd ma to taake the cart to Littlechester.

_Enter_ DORA.

Half an hour late! why are you loitering here? Away with you at once.

[_Exit_ DAN SMITH.

(_Seeing_ HAROLD _on bridge_.)

Some madman, is it, Gesticulating there upon the bridge? I am half afraid to pa.s.s.

HAROLD.

Sometimes I wonder, When man has surely learnt at last that all His old-world faith, the blossom of his youth, Has faded, falling fruitless--whether then All of us, all at once, may not be seized With some fierce pa.s.sion, not so much for Death As against Life! all, all, into the dark-- No more!--and science now could drug and balm us Back into nescience with as little pain As it is to fall asleep.

This beggarly life, This poor, flat, hedged-in field--no distance--this Hollow Pandora-box, With all the pleasures flown, not even Hope Left at the bottom!

Superst.i.tious fool, What brought me here? To see her grave? her ghost?

Her ghost is everyway about me here.

DORA (_coming forward_).

Allow me, sir, to pa.s.s you.

HAROLD.

Eva!

DORA.

Eva!

HAROLD.

What are you? Where do you come from?

DORA.

From the farm Here, close at hand.

HAROLD.

Are you--you are--that Dora, The sister. I have heard of you. The likeness Is very striking.

DORA.

You knew Eva, then?

HAROLD.

Yes--I was thinking of her when--O yes, Many years back, and never since have met Her equal for pure innocence of nature, And loveliness of feature.

DORA.

No, nor I.

HAROLD.

Except, indeed, I have found it once again In your own self.

DORA.

You flatter me. Dear Eva Was always thought the prettier.

HAROLD.

And _her_ charm Of voice is also yours; and I was brooding Upon a great unhappiness when you spoke.

DORA.

Indeed, you seem'd in trouble, sir.

HAROLD.

And you Seem my good angel who may help me from it.

DORA (_aside_).

How worn he looks, poor man! who is it, I wonder.

How can I help him? (_Aloud_.) Might I ask your name?

HAROLD.

Harold.

DORA.

I never heard her mention you.

HAROLD.

I met her first at a farm in c.u.mberland-- Her uncle's.

DORA.

She was there six years ago.

HAROLD.

And if she never mention'd me, perhaps The painful circ.u.mstances which I heard-- I will not vex you by repeating them-- Only last week at Littlechester, drove me From out her memory. She has disappear'd, They told me, from the farm--and darker news.

DORA.

She has disappear'd, poor darling, from the world-- Left but one dreadful line to say, that we Should find her in the river; and we dragg'd The Littlechester river all in vain: Have sorrow'd for her all these years in vain.

And my poor father, utterly broken down By losing her--she was his favourite child-- Has let his farm, all his affairs, I fear, But for the slender help that I can give, Fall into ruin. Ah! that villain, Edgar, If he should ever show his face among us, Our men and boys would hoot him, stone him, hunt him With pitchforks off the farm, for all of them Loved her, and she was worthy of all love.

HAROLD.

They say, we should forgive our enemies.

DORA.