The Straw Part 14

MURRAY. Not in New York, no. I'm going there to take a vacation, and live, really enjoy myself for a while. I've enough money for that as it is, and if the other stories you typed sell--I'll be as rich as Rockefeller. I might even travel---- No, I've got to make good with my best stuff first. I'll save the travelling as a reward, a prize to gain. That'll keep me at it. I know what I'll do. When I've had enough of New York, I'll rent a place in the country--some old farmhouse--and live alone there and work. (_Lost in his own plans--with pleasure._) That's the right idea, isn't it?

EILEEN (_trying to appear enthused_). It ought to be fine for your work. (_After a pause._) They're fine, those stories you wrote here.

They're--so much like you. I'd know it was you wrote them even if--I didn't know.

MURRAY (_pleased_). Wait till you read the others I'm going to do!

(_After a slight pause--with a good-natured grin._) Here I am talking about myself again! Why don't you call me down when I start that drivel? But you don't know how good it is to have your dreams coming true. It'd make an egotist out of anyone.

EILEEN (_sadly_). No. I don't know. But I love to hear you talk of yours.

MURRAY (_with an embarra.s.sed laugh_). Thanks. Well, I've certainly told you all of them. You're the only one---- (_He stops and abruptly changes the subject._) You said in your note that you had something important to tell me. (_He sits down beside her, crossing his legs._) Is it about your interview with Old Mrs. Grundy this afternoon?

EILEEN. No, that didn't amount to anything. She seemed mad because I told her so little. I think she guessed I only told her what I did so she'd let me stay up, maybe--your last day,--and to keep her from thinking what she did--about us.

MURRAY (_quickly, as if he wishes to avoid this subject_). What is it you wanted to tell me, then?

EILEEN (_sadly_). It doesn't seem so important now, somehow. I suppose it was silly of me to drag you out here, just for that. It can't mean anything to you--much.

MURRAY (_encouragingly_). How do you know it can't?

EILEEN (_slowly_). I only thought--you might like to know.

MURRAY (_interestedly_). Know what? What is it? If I can help----

EILEEN. No. (_After a moment's hesitation._) I wrote to him this afternoon.

MURRAY. Him?

EILEEN. The letter you've been advising me to write.

MURRAY (_as if the knowledge of this alarmed him--haltingly_). You mean--Fred Nicholls?

EILEEN. Yes.

MURRAY (_after a pause--uncomfortably_). You mean--you broke it all off?

EILEEN. Yes--for good. (_She looks up at his averted face. He remains silent. She continues apprehensively._) You don't say anything. I thought--you'd be glad. You've always told me it was the honourable thing to do.

MURRAY (_gruffly_). I know. I say more than my prayers, d.a.m.n it! (_With sudden eagerness._) Have you mailed the letter yet?

EILEEN. Yes. Why?

MURRAY (_shortly_). Humph. Oh--nothing.

EILEEN (_with pained disappointment_). Oh, Stephen, you don't think I did wrong, do you--now--after all you've said?

MURRAY (_hurriedly_). Wrong? No, not if you were convinced it was the right thing to do yourself--if you know you don't love him. But I'd hate to think you did it just on my advice. I shouldn't---- I didn't mean to interfere. I don't know enough about your relations for my opinion to count.

EILEEN (_hurt_). You know all there is to know.

MURRAY. I didn't mean--anything like that. I know you've been frank.

But him--I don't know him. How could I, just meeting him once? He may be quite different from my idea. That's what I'm getting at. I don't want to be unfair to him.

EILEEN (_bitterly scornful_). You needn't worry. You weren't unfair.

And you needn't be afraid you were responsible for my writing. I'd been going to for a long time before you ever spoke.

MURRAY (_with a relieved sigh_). I'm glad of that--honestly, Eileen. I felt guilty. I shouldn't have knocked him behind his back without knowing him at all.

EILEEN. You said you could read him like a book from his letters I showed you.

MURRAY (_apologetically_). I know. I'm a fool.

EILEEN (_angrily_). What makes you so considerate of Fred Nicholls all of a sudden? What you thought about him was right.

MURRAY (_vaguely_). I don't know. One makes mistakes.

EILEEN (_a.s.sertively_). Well, I know! You needn't waste pity on him.

He'll be only too glad to get my letter. He's been anxious to be free of me ever since I was sent here, only he thought it wouldn't be decent to break it off himself while I was sick. He was afraid of what people would say about him when they found it out. So he's just gradually stopped writing and coming for visits, and waited for me to realise.

And if I didn't, I know he'd have broken it off himself the first day I got home. I've kept persuading myself that, in spite of the way he's acted, he did love me as much as he could love anyone, and that it would hurt him if I---- But now I know that he never loved me, that he couldn't love anyone but himself. Oh, I don't hate him for it. He can't help being what he is. And all people seem to be--like that, mostly.

I'm only going to remember that he and I grew up together, and that he was kind to me then when he thought he liked me--and forget all the rest. (_With agitated impatience._) Oh, Stephen, you know all this I've said about him. Why don't you admit it? You've read his letters.

MURRAY (_haltingly_). Yes, I'll admit that was my opinion--only I wanted to be sure you'd found out for yourself.

EILEEN (_defiantly_). Well, I have! You see that now, don't you?

MURRAY. Yes; and I'm glad you're free of him, for your own sake. I knew he wasn't the person. (_With an attempt at a joking tone._) You must get one of the right sort--next time.

EILEEN (_springing to her feet with a cry of pain_). Stephen!

(_He avoids her eyes, which search his face pleadingly._)

MURRAY (_mumbling_). He wasn't good enough--to lace your shoes--nor anyone else, either.

EILEEN (_with a nervous laugh_). Don't be silly. (_After a pause, during which she waits hungrily for some word from him--with a sigh of despair--faintly._) Well, I've told you--all there is. I might as well go back.

MURRAY (_not looking at her--indistinctly_). Yes. You mustn't lose too much sleep. I'll come to your cottage in the morning to say good-bye.

They'll permit that, I guess.

EILEEN (_stands looking at him imploringly, her face convulsed with anguish, but he keeps his eyes fixed on the rocks at his feet. Finally she seems to give up and takes a few uncertain steps up the road towards the right--in an exhausted whisper_). Good night, Stephen.

MURRAY (_his voice choked and husky_). Good night, Eileen.

EILEEN (_walks weakly up the road, but, as she pa.s.ses the signpost, she suddenly stops and turns to look again at_ Murray, _who has not moved or lifted his eyes. A great shuddering sob shatters her pent-up emotions. She runs back to_ Murray, _her arms outstretched, with a choking cry_). Stephen!

MURRAY (_startled, whirls to face her and finds her arms thrown around his neck--in a terrified tone_). Eileen!

EILEEN (_brokenly_). I love you, Stephen--you! That's what I wanted to tell!

(_She gazes up into his eyes, her face transfigured by the joy and pain of this abject confession._)