Part 23 (1/2)

AMOS. My dear Gertrude, you see what our position is here. If Mrs.

Ebbsmith asks for our help it is our duty to give it.

GERTRUDE. It is especially my duty, Amos.

AMOS. And I should have thought it especially mine. However, Mrs.

Ebbsmith appears to firmly decline our help. And at this point, I confess, I would rather you left it--you, at least.

GERTRUDE. You would rather I left it--I, the virtuous, unsoiled woman!

Yes, I am a virtuous woman, Amos; and it strikes you as odd, I suppose, my insisting upon friends.h.i.+p with her. But look here, both of you. I'll tell you a secret. You never knew it, Amos my dear. I never allowed anybody to suspect it--

AMOS. Never knew what?

GERTRUDE. The sort of married life mine was. It didn't last long, but it was dreadful, almost intolerable.

AMOS. Gertrude!

GERTRUDE. After the first few weeks--weeks, not months!--after the first few weeks of it, my husband treated me as cruelly--[turning to AGNES]--just as cruelly, I do believe, as your husband treated you.

[AMOS makes a movement, showing astonishment.] Wait! Now then! There was another man--one I loved--one I couldn't help loving! I could have found release with him, perhaps happiness of a kind. I resisted, came through it. They're dead--the two are dead! And here I am, a virtuous, reputable woman; saved by the blessed mercy of Heaven! There, you are not surprised any longer, Amos! [Pointing to AGNES.] ”My friend, Mrs Ebbsmith!” [Bursting into tears.] Oh! Oh, if my little boy had been spared to me, he should have grown up tender to women--tender to women! He should, he should--! [She sits upon the settee, weeping . . . There is a short silence.]

AMOS. Mrs. Ebbsmith, when I came here tonight I was angry with Gertrude --not altogether, I hope, for being in your company. But I was certainly angry with her for visiting you without my knowledge. I think I sometimes forget that she is eight-and-twenty, not eighteen. Well, now I offer to delay our journey home for a few days, if you hold out the faintest hope that her companions.h.i.+p is likely to aid you in any way.

[AGNES, standing motionless, makes no response. AMOS crosses to her, and as he pa.s.ses GERTRUDE, he lets his hand drop over her shoulder; she clasps it, then rises and moves to a chair, where she sits, crying silently.]

AMOS. [By AGNES' side--in a low voice.] You heard what she said. Saved by the mercy of Heaven.

AGNES. Yes, but she can feel that.

AMOS. You felt so once.

AGNES. Once--?

AMOS. You have, in years gone by, asked for help on your knees.

AGNES. It never came.

AMOS. Repeat your cry!

AGNES. There would be no answer.

AMOS. Repeat it!

AGNES. [Turning upon him.] If miracles could happen! If ”help”, as you term it, did come! Do you know what ”help” would mean to me?

AMOS. What--?

AGNES. It would take the last crumb from me!

AMOS. This man's--protection?