Volume 9 / Act 5 — SCENE VII
Reading edition
SOPHY, like a ghost; can hardly stand or speak; dragged in forcibly by the FORESTER.
FORESTER.
Where is my child?
ANDREW.
Mother, what ails you?
[He supports her on one side, the PASTOR on the other.]
SOPHY.
Andrew! At least one!
FORESTER (shakes her).
My child! My child! Where is my child?
SOPHY (with repulsion, but faintly).
Leave me, you—
FORESTER.
My Mary!
SOPHY.
To the Dell—you—
FORESTER.
Creature, you lie!
SOPHY.
To Robert—
FORESTER.
Yes, she met me—in the fog—as I was coming—
SOPHY.
That was William.
FORESTER.
It was Mary, woman; Mary!
PASTOR.
She cannot answer any more. She has fainted.
STEIN.
Take her away from the madman!
FORESTER.
You mean to say that I—my own child—
ANDREW.
Mother! Mother!
[He and the PASTOR are busy about her, at the table to the right.]
STEIN (who in the meantime is trying to keep the FORESTER away from her).
Hands off, you madman!
FORESTER.
Madman? God grant that I am!
[A knock is heard; he steps back in horror and stretches out his hands toward the door, as if warding off something.]
Nonsense! What do you want, the whole lot of you? Why, that is Mary. She is standing outside, and does not dare to come in, because she ran out in the night. She hasn't the courage. I am severe—oh, I am severe! Silly wench!
[Stands up straight.]
Come what may!
[He rushes toward the door; before he reaches it, another knock is heard; he steps back again horrified and powerless.]
The raging fever has seized me—nothing else. These are the symptoms—chattering of the teeth and chills along the spine. Elderberry-tea—a night or two of perspiration! What has the knocking to do with my fever? Why does not some one open, some one call her in? Why are you all so pale and tongueless? Has some one told a fairy-tale, and are you afraid? My Mary was a living fairy-tale—she is-she is, I mean to say. That Mary could be dead—but she would not give me such pain! She knows that I cannot live without my Mary. Do you hear her giggling outside? Now she will come skipping in and hold her hands over my eyes, as she is accustomed to do, and I must not spoil her fun. Oh, it is—[Attempts to laugh, but sobs.]—a—[Beside himself.]—After all, it has to be! Come in!
[Attempts to go to the door, but with eyes closed sinks into a chair on the left.]