Exiles

Brigid! She goes out by the door on the left rapidly. Beatrice Gazing after her, instinctively. It is true, then! She glances toward the door of Richard’s study and catches her head in her hands. Then, recovering herself, she takes the paper from the little table, opens it, takes a spectacle case from her handbag and, putting on a pair of spectacles, bends down, reading it. Richard Rowan enters from the garden. He is dressed as before but wears a soft hat and carries a thin cane. Richard Stands in the doorway, observing her for some moments. There are demons he points out towards the strand out there. I heard them jabbering since dawn. Beatrice Starts to her feet. Mr. Rowan! Richard I assure you. The isle is full of voices. Yours also, Otherwise I could not see you, it said. And her voice. But, I assure you, they are all demons. I made the sign of the cross upside down and that silenced them. Beatrice Stammering. I came here, Mr. Rowan, so early because⁠ ⁠… to show you this⁠ ⁠… Robert wrote it⁠ ⁠… about you⁠ ⁠… last night. Richard Takes off his hat. My dear Miss Justice, you told me yesterday, I think, why you came here and I never forget anything. Advancing towards her, holding out his hand. Good morning. Beatrice Suddenly takes off her spectacles and places the paper in his hands. I came for this. It is an article about you. Robert wrote it last night. Will you read it? Richard Bows. Read it now? Certainly. Beatrice Looks at him in despair. O, Mr. Rowan, it makes me suffer to look at you. Richard Opens and reads the paper. Death of the Very Reverend Canon Mulhall. Is that it? Bertha appears at the door on the left and stands to listen. Richard Turns over a page. Yes, here we are! A Distinguished Irishman. He begins to read in a rather loud hard voice. Not the least vital of the problems which confront our country is the problem of her attitude towards those of her children who, having left her in her hour of need, have been called back to her now on the eve of her longawaited victory, to her whom in loneliness and exile they have at last learned to love. In exile, we have said, but here we must distinguish. There is an economic and there is a spiritual exile. There are those who left her to seek the bread by which men live and there are others, nay, her most favoured children, who left her to seek in other lands that food of the spirit by which a nation of human beings is sustained in life. Those who recall the intellectual life of Dublin of a decade since will have many memories of Mr. Rowan. Something of that fierce indignation which lacerated the heart⁠ ⁠… He raises his eyes from the paper and sees Bertha standing in the doorway. Then he lays aside the paper and looks at her. A long silence. Beatrice With an effort. You see, Mr. Rowan, your day has dawned at last. Even here. And you see that you have a warm friend in Robert, a friend who understands you. Richard Did you notice the little phrase at the beginning: those who left her in her hour of need? He looks searchingly at Bertha, turns and walks into his study, closing the door behind him. Bertha Speaking half to herself. I gave up everything for him, religion, family, my own peace. She sits down heavily in an armchair. Beatrice comes towards her. Beatrice Weakly. But do you not feel also that Mr. Rowan’s ideas⁠ ⁠… Bertha Bitterly. Ideas and ideas! But the people in this world have other ideas or pretend to. They have to put up with him in spite of his ideas because he is able to do something. Me, no. I am nothing. Beatrice You stand by his side. Bertha With increasing bitterness. Ah, nonsense, Miss Justice! I am only a thing he got entangled with and my son is⁠—the nice name they give those children. Do you think I am a stone? Do you think I don’t see it in their eyes and in their manner when they have to meet me? Beatrice Do not let them humble you, Mrs. Rowan. Bertha Haughtily. Humble me! I am very proud of myself, if you want to know. What have they ever done for him? I made him a man. What are they all in his life? No more than the dirt under his boots! She stands up and walks excitedly to and fro. He can despise me, too, like the rest of them⁠—now. And you can despise me. But you will never humble me, any of you. Beatrice Why do you accuse me? Bertha Going to her impulsively. I am in such suffering. Excuse me if I was rude. I want us to be friends. She holds out her hands. Will you? Beatrice Taking her hands. Gladly. Bertha Looking at her. What lovely long eyelashes you have! And your eyes have such a sad expression! Beatrice Smiling. I see very little with them. They are very weak. Bertha Warmly. But beautiful. She embraces her quietly and kisses her. Then withdraws from her a little shyly. Brigid comes in from the left. Brigid I gave it to himself, ma’am. Bertha Did he send a message? Brigid He was just going out, ma’am. He told me to say he’d be here after me. Bertha Thanks. Brigid Going. Would you like the tea and the toast now, ma’am? Bertha Not now, Brigid. After perhaps. When Mr. Hand comes show him in at once. Brigid Yes, ma’am. She goes out on the left. Beatrice I will go now, Mrs. Rowan, before he comes. Bertha Somewhat timidly. Then we are friends? Beatrice In the same tone. We will try to be. Turning. Do you allow me to go out through the garden? I don’t want