Exiles

that! Beatrice Well, after what took place here yesterday afternoon⁠—I mean what Robert said, that Mr. Rowan had accepted this position. It was only natural I should think⁠ ⁠… Bertha Ah, yes. Naturally. Beatrice Hastily. But that is not what alarmed me. But immediately after I heard a noise in my cousin’s room. Bertha Crumples together the paper in her hands, breathlessly. My God! What is it? Tell me. Beatrice Observing her. Why does that upset you so much? Bertha Sinking back, with a forced laugh. Yes, of course, it is very foolish of me. My nerves are all upset. I slept very badly, too. That is why I got up so early. But tell me what was it then? Beatrice Only the noise of his valise being pulled along the floor. Then I heard him walking about his room, whistling softly. And then locking it and strapping it. Bertha He is going away! Beatrice That was what alarmed me. I feared he had had a quarrel with Mr. Rowan and that his article was an attack. Bertha But why should they quarrel? Have you noticed anything between them? Beatrice I thought I did. A coldness. Bertha Lately? Beatrice For some time past. Bertha Smoothing the paper out. Do you know the reason? Beatrice Hesitatingly. No. Bertha After a pause. Well, but if this article is for him, as you say, they have not quarrelled. She reflects a moment. And written last night, too. Beatrice Yes. I bought the paper at once to see. But why, then, is he going away so suddenly? I feel that there is something wrong. I feel that something has happened between them. Bertha Would you be sorry? Beatrice I would be very sorry. You see, Mrs. Rowan, Robert is my first cousin and it would grieve me very deeply if he were to treat Mr. Rowan badly, now that he has come back, or if they had a serious quarrel especially because⁠ ⁠… Bertha Toying with the paper. Because? Beatrice Because it was my cousin who urged Mr. Rowan always to come back. I have that on my conscience. Bertha It should be on Mr. Hand’s conscience, should it not? Beatrice Uncertainly. On mine, too. Because⁠—I spoke to my cousin about Mr. Rowan when he was away and, to a certain extent, it was I⁠ ⁠… Bertha Nods slowly. I see. And that is on your conscience. Only that? Beatrice I think so. Bertha Almost cheerfully. It looks as if it was you, Miss Justice, who brought my husband back to Ireland. Beatrice I, Mrs. Rowan? Bertha Yes, you. By your letters to him and then by speaking to your cousin as you said just now. Do you not think that you are the person who brought him back? Beatrice Blushing suddenly. No. I could not think that. Bertha Watches her for a moment; then turning aside. You know that my husband is writing very much since he came back. Beatrice Is he? Bertha Did you not know? She points towards the study. He passes the greater part of the night in there writing. Night after night. Beatrice In his study? Bertha Study or bedroom. You may call it what you please. He sleeps there, too, on a sofa. He slept there last night. I can show you if you don’t believe me. She rises to go towards the study. Beatrice half rises quickly and makes a gesture of refusal. Beatrice I believe you, of course, Mrs. Rowan, when you tell me. Bertha Sitting down again. Yes. He is writing. And it must be about something which has come into his life lately⁠—since we came back to Ireland. Some change. Do you know that any change has come into his life? She looks searchingly at her. Do you know it or feel it? Beatrice Answers her look steadily. Mrs. Rowan, that is not a question to ask me. If any change has come into his life since he came back you must know and feel it. Bertha You could know it just as well. You are very intimate in this house. Beatrice I am not the only person who is intimate here. They both look at each other coldly in silence for some moments. Bertha lays aside the paper and sits down on a chair nearer to Beatrice. Bertha Placing her hand on Beatrice’s knee. So you also hate me, Miss Justice? Beatrice With an effort. Hate you? I? Bertha Insistently but softly. Yes. You know what it means to hate a person? Beatrice Why should I hate you? I have never hated anyone. Bertha Have you ever loved anyone? She puts her hand on Beatrice’s wrist. Tell me. You have? Beatrice Also softly. Yes. In the past. Bertha Not now? Beatrice No. Bertha Can you say that to me⁠—truly? Look at me. Beatrice Looks at her. Yes, I can. A short pause. Bertha withdraws her hand, and turns away her head in some embarrassment. Bertha You said just now that another person is intimate in this house. You meant your cousin⁠ ⁠… Was it he? Beatrice Yes. Bertha Have you not forgotten him? Beatrice Quietly. I have tried to. Bertha Clasping her hands. You hate me. You think I am happy. If you only knew how wrong you are! Beatrice Shakes her head. I do not. Bertha Happy! When I do not understand anything that he writes, when I cannot help him in any way, when I don’t even understand half of what he says to me sometimes! You could and you can. Excitedly. But I am afraid for him, afraid for both of them. She stands up suddenly and goes towards the davenport. He must not go away like that. She takes a writing pad from the drawer and writes a few lines in great haste. No, it is impossible! Is he mad to do such a thing? Turning to Beatrice. Is he still at home? Beatrice Watching her in wonder. Yes. Have you written to him to ask him to come here? Bertha Rises. I have. I will send Brigid across with it.