Mrs. H. Would you have wished to live on in ignorance? [They all turn to look at her.]
Charles. [With a writhing movement] I don’t know. But—you—you did it.
Mrs. H. You shouldn’t have attacked us.
Charles. What did we do to you—compared with this?
Mrs. H. All you could.
Hillcrist. Enough, enough! What can we do to help you?
Charles. Tell me where my wife is.
[Jill draws the
curtains apart—the window is open—Jill
looks
out. They wait
in silence.]
Jill. We don’t know.
Charles. Then she was here?
Hillcrist. Yes, sir; and she heard you.
Charles. All the better if she did. She knows how I feel.
Hillcrist. Brace up; be gentle with her.
Charles. Gentle? A woman who—who——
Hillcrist. A most unhappy creature. Come!
Charles. Damn your sympathy!
[He goes out into the moonlight, passing away.]
Jill. Dodo, we ought to look for her; I’m awfully afraid.
Hillcrist. I saw her there—listening. With child! Who knows where things end when they and begin? To the gravel pit, Jill; I’ll go to the pond. No, we’ll go together. [They go out.]
[Mrs. Hillcrist
comes down to the fireplace, rings the bell
and stands there, thinking.
Fellows enters.]
Mrs. H. I want someone to go down to Mr. Dawker’s.
Fellows. Mr. Dawker is here, ma’am, waitin’ to see you.
Mrs. H. Ask him to come in. Oh! and
Fellows, you can tell the
Jackmans that they can go back to their cottage.
Fellows. Very good, ma’am. [He goes out.]
[Mrs. Hillcrist
searches at the bureau, finds and takes out the
deed. DAWKERS
comes in; he has the appearance of a man whose
temper has been badly
ruffled.]
Mrs. H. Charles Hornblower—how did it happen?
Dawker. He came to me. I said I knew nothing. He wouldn’t take it; went for me, abused me up hill and down dale; said he knew everything, and then he began to threaten me. Well, I lost my temper, and I told him.
Mrs. H. That’s very serious, Dawker, after our promise. My husband is most upset.
Dawker. [Sullenly] It’s not my fault, ma’am; he shouldn’t have threatened and goaded me on. Besides, it’s got out that there’s a scandal; common talk in the village—not the facts, but quite enough to cook their goose here. They’ll have to go. Better have done with it, anyway, than have enemies at your door.
Mrs. H. Perhaps; but—Oh! Dawker, take charge of this. [She hands him the deed] These people are desperate—and—I’m sot sure of my husband when his feelings are worked on.