into a long, hissing groan.  Strangway stands motionless, his hand over his eyes, staring into the darkness.  A girl’s figure can be seen to break out of the darkness and rush away.  When at last the groaning has died into sheer expectancy, Strangway drops his hand.]

Strangway. [In a loco voice] Yes!  I’m glad.  Is Jarland there?

Freman.  He’s ’ere-no thanks to yu!  Hsss!

     [The hiss breaks out again, then dies away.]

Jarland’s voice. [Threatening] Try if yu can du it again.

Strangway.  No, Jarland, no!  I ask you to forgive me.  Humbly!

     [A hesitating silence, broken by muttering.]

Clyst’s voice.  Bravo!

A voice.  That’s vair.

A voice.  ‘E’s afraid o’ the sack—­that’s what ’tis.

A voice. [Groaning] ’E’s a praaper coward.

A voice.  Whu funked the doctor?

Clyst’s voice.  Shame on ’ee, therr!

Strangway.  You’re right—­all of you!  I’m not fit!  An uneasy and excited mustering and whispering dies away into renewed silence.

Strangway.  What I did to Tam Jarland is not the real cause of what you’re doing, is it?  I understand.  But don’t be troubled.  It’s all over.  I’m going—­you’ll get some one better.  Forgive me, Jarland.  I can’t see your face—­it’s very dark.

FREMAN’S Voice. [Mocking] Wait for the full mune.

Godleigh. [Very low] “My ’eart ’E lighted not!”

Strangway. [starting at the sound of his own words thus mysteriously given him out of the darkness] Whoever found that, please tear it up! [After a moment’s silence] Many of you have been very kind to me.  You won’t see me again—­Good-bye, all!

     [He stands for a second motionless, then moves resolutely down
     into the darkness so peopled with shadows.]

Uncertain voices as he passes.  Good-bye, zurr! 
Good luck, zurr! [He has gone.]

Clyst’s voice.  Three cheers for Mr. Strangway!

     [And a queer, strangled cheer, with groans still threading it,
     arises.]

Curtain.

ACT III

SCENE I

In the BURLACOMBES’ hall-sitting-room the curtains are drawn, a lamp burns, and the door stands open.  Burlacombe and his wife are hovering there, listening to the sound of mingled cheers and groaning.

Mrs. Burlacombe.  Aw! my gudeness—­what a thing t’appen!  I’d saner ’a lost all me ducks. [She makes towards the inner door] I can’t never face ’im.

Burlacombe.  ‘E can’t expect nothin’ else, if ’e act like that.

Mrs. Burlacombe.  ‘Tes only duin’ as ’e’d be done by.