Semiramis and Other Plays Part 72

Why ma'am, he's gone and took it with him.

Hel. Took it with him?

Bookseller.

Yes, ma'am, and thereby I've lost time and trade.

(Aside) She'd give fifteen!

Hel. He needed money?

Bookseller.

Well, I should _guess_ so, ma'am. That's the last book he had. He told me about it before. He's been bringin' them all here. I _think_ he'll be back, ma'am, and I'll keep the book for you.

Hel. Thank you. (Turns to go. Sees letter on the floor and picks it up) Why, 'tis ... he dropped it! I wonder if I may ... he is suffering ... that shabby coat ... and he is so proud. I think I ought to read it. I must know where to find him. (Looks at letter) Fordham! (Reads)

My Dear Son: One last prayer the mother of your Virginia makes to you. She is dying. Come and sit by her and she will carry a smile to her grave. Do not stay away because you can not bear to witness her suffering,--because you have nothing to give her.

Come, and by your loving presence lessen her pain.

G.o.d bless you! Your devoted mother, MARIA CLEMM.

(Helen stands trembling and holding the letter) ...

And I hurt him ... I hurt him....

(CURTAIN)

Scene II: Poe's cottage, Fordham. A room almost bare. Virginia sleeping on bed. Poe's cloak over her. Mrs. Clemm kneeling in prayer beside her. Poe enters, carrying a bundle of broken sticks which he lays down softly, one by one, on the hearth, looking anxiously toward the bed. Mrs. Clemm rises and comes to the fire)

Mrs. C. My child, you have been out in the snow without your cloak! (Brushes snow from his shoulders)

Poe. Could I take the least warmth from yon s.h.i.+vering angel?

Mrs. C. You forget that you, too, are ill. O, my boy, be careful, or I shall soon be childless in the world. One is already lost....

Poe. Not lost. See how she sleeps! She is better. I know she is better.

Mrs. C. Since you came. We will hope so, dear.

Poe. If she would only speak to us! O, why does she not speak?

Not once to-day.

Mrs. C. She is very weak, my son.

Poe. I could bear it so long as she could tell us there was no pain ... but now she only looks at us.... Oh--

Mrs. C. You will control yourself for her sake.

Poe. Yes, yes, for her sake.

Mrs. C. It will take her last breath to see you disturbed.

Poe. I know! I know! Have no fear, mother. I am strong now.

Vir. Edgar! (He flies to the bed)

Poe. My darling!

Vir. I am better, dear. Mamma! (Mrs. Clemm goes to her) I feel so rested, mamma.

Poe. I told you! She is better! And you will sit up a little now, dear? I will carry you to the fire.

Mrs. C. My boy!

Poe. O, mother, don't you see how well she is? Look at her cheeks--her eyes--how beautiful!

Vir. (Smiling) Hear him, mamma! How proud he is! He must always have it that his wife is beautiful.

Poe. But it is so true, my dearest!

Vir. Let me believe it, for it is sweet to think that I have been that, at least, to you.

Poe. O, my darling, you have been everything!

Vir. You think so now, dear, and I love to hear you say it.

Poe. And you will get well for me?

Vir. No, O no! That would bring all your troubles back. You will live a great life, Edgar, when you have left this little care-bundle of a wife behind you.

Poe. O, don't, Virginia! I shall do nothing without you!

Vir. You will do everything. I am the wise one now, Edgar. And, dear, while I can talk ... I must ask you ... must beg you ... I must hear you say that you forgive me.

Poe. Forgive you!

Vir. Yes, dear. I was so young ... I thought I could help you ... and so I let you marry me. I did not know. I thought because I loved you so much that I could make you happy.

But women who can only love are not the women who help.

They must be wise and strong too, and oh, so many other wonderful things. If they are not, then all the love only hurts and makes things go wrong.

Poe. O, little angel!

Vir. Yes ... little angel ... when I ought to have been a brave, great angel who could bear heaven on her wings.

Long ago I knew it, Edgar. When the truth came I looked every way and there was no help. Then when I found I was to die, it seemed that G.o.d had pitied and helped me. For that was the only way.... O, these little women who can do nothing but love! I wish I could take them all with me.

These tears are for them, not for myself, darling. O, I am happy, but they must wait ... they can not die. How you s.h.i.+ver! You must take your cloak. I am warm now. Indeed, I am quite comfortable.... Don't--don't weep. You must be happy because I am. Let us smile the rest of the time, darling,--it--is such a little while.

Poe. (Brokenly) Yes ... yes.... O little flower, little flower, dropping back to G.o.d's bosom, how have I dared to touch thee!

Vir. (Rubbing her hand on his arm) 'Tis damp! You have been out? O, my dear, you must, must take your cloak! I am quite, quite warm! See, feel my hands! (Smiling)

Poe. (Taking her hands) Little icicles!