[Two or three squirks and giggles; Tim Clyst’s voice:  “Ya-as!  Don’t ’ee tread on my toe!” A soft, frightened “O-o-h!” from a girl.  Some quick, excited whisperings:  “Luke!” “Zee there!” “He’s comin’!” And then a perfectly dead silence.  The figure of Strangway is seen in his dark clothes, passing from the vestry to the church porch.  He stands plainly visible in the lighted porch, locking the door, then steps forward.  Just as he reaches the edge of the porch, a low hiss breaks the silence.  It swells very gradually 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