IPS 3529 N5 B4 1920 I Copy 1 0> , s ' ' ' /, "V ^ -U. '"^^ •'/^ -^^ -^' / '' %>.^' ■■-^ '■ N aO T- y '-..-.■-- ft ol^ •^^ <- ^ .o- r f, (?. V ■^ xO^^. C \^^'' «* (.. •p' ' BEYOND THE HORIZON PLAYS BY EUGENE G. O'NEILL THE MOON OF THE CARIBBEES AND Six Other Plays of the Sea CHRIS CHRISTOPHERSON BEYOND THE HORIZON A PLAY IN THREE ACTS BY EUGENE G. O'NEILL BONI AND LIVERIGHT PUBLISHERS NEW YORK Copyright, 1920, By BONI & LIVERIGHT. Inc. MAf^ 22 1920 Printed in the United States of A merica 0)CI.A565326 TO AGNES ACT I Scene I : The Road. Sunset of a day in Spring. Scene II: The Farm House. The same night. ACT II (Three years later) Scene I : The Farm House. Noon of a Summer day. Scene II : The top of a hill on the farm overlooking the sea. The following day. ACT III (Five years later) Scene I: The Farm House. Dawn of a day in late FaU. Scene II: The Road. Sunrise, ACT I CHARACTERS James Mayo, a farmer Kate Mayo, his wife Captain Dick Scott, of the hark "SundaJ'' her brother Andrew IVIayo , sons of James Mayo Robert Mayo J Ruth Atkins, Mrs. Atkins, her widowed mother Mary, Ben, a farm hand Doctor Fawcett. {The "right" and "left" of the stage directions are the audience's.) ACT ONE SCENE ONE Scene — A section of country highway. The road runs diagonally from the left, forward, to the right, rear, and can he seen in the distance wind- ing toward the horizon like a pale ribbon between the low, rolling hills with their freshly plowed fields clearly divided from each other, checker- board fashion, by the lines of stone walls and rough snake fences. The forward triangle cut off by the road is a section of a field from the dark earth of which myriad bright-green blades of fall-sown rye are sprouting. A straggling line of piled rocks, too low to be called a wall, separates this field from the road. To the rear of the road is a ditch with a slop- ing, grassy bank on the far side. From the center of this an old, gnarled apple tree, just budding into leaf, strains its twisted branches heavenwards, black against the pallor of dis- tance. A snake-fence sidles from left to right 1 m^ BEYOND THE HORIZON along the top of the hank, passing beneath the apple tree. The hushed twilight of a day in May is jtist heginning. The horizon hills are still rimmed by a faint line of fame, and the sky above them glows with the crimson flush of the sunset. This fades gradually as the action of the scene progresses. At the rise of the curtain, Robert Mayo is discovered sitting on the fence. He is a tally slender young man of twenty-three. There is a touch of the poet about him expressed in his high forehead and wide, dark eyes. His features are delicate and refined, leaning to weakness in the mouth and chin. He is dressed in grey corduroy trousers pushed into high laced boots, and a blue fiannel shirt with a bright colored tie. He i» reading a book by the fading sunset light. He shuts this, keeping a finger in to mark the place, and turns his head toward the horizon, gazing out over the fields and hills. i/i« lips move as if he were reciting something to himself. His brother Andrew comes along the road from the right, returning from his work in the fields. He is twenty-seven years old, an opposite type to Robert — husky, sun-hronzed, handsome in a large-featured, manly fashion — a son of the soil, intelligent in a shrewd way, but with 710th- ing of the intellectuxd about him. He wears over- alls, leather boots, a grey fiannel shirt open at BEYOND THE HORIZON 3 the neck, and a soft, mud-stained hat 'pushed hack on his head. He stops to talk to Robert, lean- ing on the hoe he carries. Andrew — [Seeing Robert has not noticed his presence — m a loud shout. Ji Hey there! [Robert turns with a start. Seeing zaho it is, he smiles.^ Gosh, jou do take the prize for day-dreaming ! And I see you've toted one of the old books along with you. Want to bust 3'our eyesight reading in this light? Robert — [Glancing at the book in his hand with a rather shamefaced air.] I wasn't reading — just then, Andy. Andrew — No, but 3'ou have been. Shucks, you never will get any sense, Rob. [He crosses the ditch and sits on the fence near his brother.] What is it this time — poetry, I'll bet. [He reaches for the book.] Let me see. Robert — [Handing it to him rather reluctantly.] Yes, it's poetr3\ Look out you don't get it full of dirt. Andrew — [Glancing at his hands.] That isn't dirt — it's good clean earth; but I'll be careful of the old thing. I just wanted to take a peep at it. [He turns over the pages.] Robert — [Slyly.] Better look out for youf eye- sight, Andy. Andrew — Huh! If reading this stuff was the only way to get blind, I'd see forever. [His eyes read 4 BEYOND THE HORIZON something and he gives an exclamation of disgust.] Hump! [With a provoking grin at his brother he reads aloud in a doleful, sing-song voice.] " I have loved wind and light and the bright sea. But holy and most sacred night, not as I love and have loved thee." [He hands the book back.] Here! Take it and bury it. Give me a good magazine any time. Robert — [With a trace of irritation.] The Farm Journal ? Akdeew — Sure ; anything sensible. I suppose it's that year in college gave you a liking for that kind of stuff. . I'm darn glad I stopped with High School, or ma^'be I'd been crazy too. [He grins and slaps Robert on the back affectionately.] Imagine me reading poetry and plowing at the same time. The team'd run away, I'll bet. Robert — [Laughing.] Or picture me plowing. That'd be worse. Andrew — [Seriously.] Pa was right never to sick 3'^ou onto the farm. You surely were never cut out for a farmer, that's a fact, — even if j^ou'd never been took sick. [With concern.] Say, how'd you feel now, anyway.'* I've lost track of you. Seems as if I never did get a chance to have a talk alone with you these days, 'count of the work. But you're looking fine as silk. Robert — Why, I feel great — never better. Andrew — That's bully. You've surely earned it. You certainly had enough sickness in the old days to last you the rest of your life. BEYOND THE HORIZON 5 Robert — A healthy animal like vou, you brute, can hardly understand what I went through — al- through you saw it. You remember — sick one day, and well the next — always weak — never able to last through a whole term at school 'til I was years behind everyone my age — not able to get in any games — it was hell! These last few years of comparative health have been heaven to me. Andrew — I know; they must have been. [After a pause.] You should have gone back to college last fall, like I know you wanted to. You're fitted for that sort of thing — just as I ain't. Robert — You know why I didn't go back, Andy. Pa didn't like the idea, even if he didn't say so; and I know he wanted the money to use improving the farm. And besides, I had pretty much all I cared for in that one year. I'm not keen on being a student, just because you see me reading books all the time. What I want to do now is keep on moving so that I won't take root in any one place. Andrew — Well, the trip you're leaving on to- morrow will keep j'ou moving all right. [At this men- tion of the trip they both fall silent. There is a pause. Finally Andrew goes on, awkwardly attempting to speak casually.] Uncle says you'll be gone three years. Robert — About that, he figures. Andrew — [Moodily.] That's a long time. Robert — Not so long when you come to consider it. You know the Sunda sails around the Horn for 6 BEYOND THE HORIZON Yokohama first, and that's a long voyage on a sailing ship; and if we go to any of the other places Uncle Dick mentions — India, or Australia, or South Africa, or South America — they'll be long voyages, too. Andrew — You can have all those foreign parts for all of me. A trip to the port once in a wliile, or maybe down to New York a couple of times a year — that's all the travel I'm hankering after, [He looks down the road to the right.] Here comes Pa. [l^he noise of a team of horses commg slowly down the] road is heard, and a vian's voice urging them on. A: moment later James Mayo enters, driving the two weary horses which have been unhitched from the plow. He is his son Andrew over again in body and face — an Andrew sixty-five years old, with a short, square, white beard. He is dressed much the same as Andrew.] Mayo — [Checking his horses when he sees Ms sons.] Whoa there ! Hello boys ! What are j'ou two doin' there roostin' on the fence like a pair of hens.'' Robert — [Laughing.] Oh, just talking things over. Pa. Andrew — [With a sly wink.] Rob's trying to get me into reading poetry. He thinks my education's been neglected. Mayo — [Chuckling.] That's good! You kin go out and sing it to the stock at nights to put 'em to sleep. What's that he's got there — 'nother book.'' Good Lord, I thought you'd read every book there was BEYOND THE HORIZON 7 in the world, Robert ; and here you go and finds 'nother one Robert — [With a smile.]i There's still a few left, Pa. Andrew — He's learning a new poem about the " bright sea " so he'll be all prepared to recite when he gets on the boat tomorrow. Mayo — [A bit rebuhingly.] He'll have plenty of time to be thinkin' 'bout the water in the next years. No need to bother 'bout it yet. Robert — [Gently.] I wasn't. That's just Andy's fooling. Mayo — [Changing the subject abruptly; turns to Andrew.] How are things lookin' up to the hill lot, Andy ? Andrew — [Enthusiastically.] Fine as silk for this early in the year. Those oats seem to be coming along great. Mayo — I'm most done plowin' up the old medder — figger I ought to have it all up by tomorrow noon ; then you kin start in with the harrowin'. Andrew — Sure. I expect I'll be through up above by then. There ain't but a little left to do. Mayo — [To the restive team.] Wlioa there! You'll get your supper soon enough, you hungry critters. [Turning again to Andrew.] It looks like a good year for us, son, with fair luck on the weather — even if it's hard tucker gettin' things started. Andrew — [With a grin of satisfaction.] I can 8 BEYOND THE HORIZON stand mj share of the hard work, I guess — and then some. Mayo — That's the -way to talk, son. Work never done a man harm yet — leastways, not work done out in the open. [Robert has been trying to pretend an interest in their conversation, but he can't help show- ing that it bares him. Andrew notices this.] Andrew — But farming ain't poetry, is it, Rob.'* [Robert smiles but remains silent.] ^L\YO — [Seriouslij.] There's more satisfaction in the earth than ever was in any book; and Robert'll find it out sooner or later. [A tw^inlile comes into his eyes.] When he's grown up and got some sense. Robert — [Whimsically.] I'm never going to grow up — if I can help it. Mayo — Time'll tell. Well, I'll be movin' along home. Don't you two stay gossipin' too long. [He Tcinlis at Robert.] 'Specially you, Andy. Ruth and her Maw is comin' to supper, and you'd best be hurryin' to wash up and put on your best Sunday-go- to-meetin' clothes. [He laughs. Robert's face con- tracts as if he iccre icincing at some pain, but he forces a smile. Andrew grows confused and casts a quick side glance at his brother.] Andrew — I'll be along in a minute. Pa. Mayo — And you, Robert, don't you stay raoonin' at the sky longer'n is needful. You'll get lots o' time for that the next three years you're out on the sea. Remember this is your last night to home, and you've got to make an early start tomorrow, [He hesitates. BEYOND THE HORIZON 9 then finishes earnestly] 'n' your Ma'll be wantin' to see all she kin o' you the little time left. Robert — I'm not forgetting, Pa. I'll be home right away. ]Mayo — That's right. I'll tell your Maw you're acomiu'. [He chucks to the horses.] Giddap, old bones! Don't you want no supper tonight? {The horses xcalk off, and he folloivs them. There is a pause. AxDKEW and Robert sit silently, without looking at each other.] Andrew — {After a xchile.] Ma's going to miss you a lot, Rob. Robert — Yes — and I'll miss her, Andrew — And Pa ain't feeling none too happy to have you go — though he's been trying not to show it. Robert — I can see how he feels. Andrew — And you can bet that I'm not giving any cheers about it. \He puts one hand on the fence near Robert.] Robert — [Putting one hand on top of Andrew's •with a gesture almost of shyness.] I know that too, Andy. Andrew — I'll miss yon as much as anybody, I guess. I know how lonesome the old place was winter before last when you was away to college — and even then you used to come home once in a while ; but this time {He stops suddenly.] Robert — Let's not think about it — 'til afterward. We'll only spoil this last night if we do. 10 BEYOND THE HORIZON Andrew — That's good advice. [But after a pause, he returns to the subject again.] You see, you and I ain't like most brothers — always fighting and sep- arated a lot of the time, while we've always been together — just the two of us. It's different with us. That's why it hits so hard, I guess. Robert — [With feeling.] It's just as hard for me, Andy — ^believe that ! I hate to leave you and the old folks — ^but — I feel I've got to. There's something calling me [He points to the horizon] calling to me from over there, beyond and I feel as if no matter what happens Oh, I can't just explain it to you, Andy. Andrew — No need to, Rob. [Angry at himself.] You needn't try to explain. It's aU just as it ought to be. Hell ! You want to go. You feel you ought to, and you got to ! that's all there is to it ; and I wouldn't have you miss this chance for the world. Robert — It's fine of you to feel that way, Andy. Andrew — Huh! I'd be a nice son-of-a-gun if I didn't, wouldn't 1? When I know how you need this sea trip to make a new man of you — in the body, I mean — and give you your full health back. Robert — [A trifle impatiently.] All of you seem to keep harping on my health. You were so used to seeing me lying around the house in the old days that you never will get over the notion that I'm a chronic invalid, and have to be looked after like a baby all the time, or wheeled round in a chair like Mrs. Atkins. You don't realize how I've bucked up in the past few BEYOND THE HORIZON 11 years. Why, I bet right now I'm just as healthy as you are — I mean just as sound in wind and limb ; and if I was staying on at the farm, I'd prove it to you. You're suffering from a fixed idea about my delicate- ness — and so are Pa and Ma. Every time I've offered to help, Pa has stared at me as if he thought I was contemplating suicide. Andrew — [Conciliatingli/.] Nobody claimed the undertaker was taking your measurements. All I was saying was the sea trip would be bound to do anybody good. Robert — If I had no other excuse for going on Uncle Dick's ship but just my health, I'd stay right here and start in plowing. Andrew — Can't be done. No use in your talking that way, Rob. Farming ain't your nature. There's all the difference shown in just the way us two feel about the farm. I like it, all of it, and you — well, you like the home part of it, I expect ; but as a place to work and grow things, you hate it. Ain't that right? Robert — Yes, I suppose it is. I've tried to take an interest but — well, you're the Mayo branch of the family, and I take after Ma and Uncle Dick. It's natural enough when you come to think of it. The Mayos have been farmers from way back, while the Scotts have been mostly sea-faring folks, with a school teacher thrown in now and then on the woman's side — just as Ma was before her marriage. Andrew — You do favor Ma. I remember she used 12 BEYOND THE HORIZON always to have her nose in a book when I was a kid; but she seems to have given it up of late years. Robert — [With a trace of bitterness.] The farm has claimed her in spite of herself. That's what I'm afraid it might do to me in time; and that's why I feel I ought to get away. [Fearing he has hurt Andrew's feelings.] You musn't misunderstand me, Andy. For you it's a different thing. You're a Mayo through and through. You're wedded to the soil. You're as much a product of it as an ear of corn is, or a tree. Father is the same. This farm is his life-work, and he's happy in knowing that another Mayo, inspired by the same love, will take up the work where he leaves off. I can understand your atti- tude, and Pa's ; and I think it's wonderful and sincere. But I — well, I'm not made that way. Andrew — No, you ain't; but when it comes to understanding, I guess I realize that you've got your own angle of looking at things. Robert — [Musingly.] I wonder if you do, really. Andrew — [Confidently.] Sure I do. You've seen a bit of the world, enough to make the farm seem small, and you've got the itch to see it all. Robert — It's more than that, Andy. Andrew — Oh, of course. I know you're going to learn navigation, and all about a ship, so's you can be an officer. That's natural, too. There's fair pay in it, I expect, when you consider that you've always got a home and grub thrown in ; and if you're set on BEYOND THE HORIZON 13 travelling, you can go anywhere you're a mind to, without pajMng fare. Robert — [With a smile that is half-sad.] It's more than that, Andy. Andrew — Sure it is. There's always a chance of a good thing coming your way in some of those for- eign ports or other. I've heard there are great oppor- tunities for a young fellow with his eyes open in some of those new countries that are just being opened up. And with your education you ought to pick up the language quick. [Joviallz/.] I'll bet that's what you've been turning over in your mind under all your quietness ! [He slaps his brother on the back with a laugh.] Well, if you get to be a millionaire all of a sudden, call 'round once in a while and I'll pass the plate to you. We could use a lot of money right here on the farm without hurting it any. Robert — [Forced to laugh.] I've never considered that practical side of it for a minute, Andy. [As Andrew^ looJiS incredulous.] That's the truth. Andrevv' — Well, you ought to. Robert — No, I oughtn't. You're trying to wish an eye-for-business on me I don't possess. [Pointing to the horizon — dreamily.] Supposing I was to tell you that it's just Beauty that's calling me, the beauty of the far off* and unknown, the mystery and spell of the East, which lures me in the books I've read, the need of the freedom of great wide spaces, the joy of wandering on and on — in quest of the secret which is hidden just over there, beyond the horizon.'^ Sup- 14 BEYOND THE HORIZON pose I told you that was the one and only reason for my going? Andrew — I should say you were nutty. RoBEET — Then I must be — because it's so. Andrew — I don't believe it. You've got that idea out of your poetry books. A good dose of sea-sickness will get that out of your system. Robert — [FroTmiing.] Don't, Andy. I'm serious. Andrew — Then you might as well stay right here, because we've got all you're looking for right on this farm. There's wide space enough, Lord knows; and you can have all the sea you want by walking a mile down to the beach; and there's plenty of horizon to look at, and beauty enough for anyone, except in the winter. [He grins.] As for the mystery and spell, and other things you mentioned, I haven't met 'em yet, but they're probably lying around somewheres. I'll have you understand this is a first class farm with all the fixings. [He laughs.] Robert — [Joining in the laughter in spite of him- self.] It's no use talking to you, you chump! Andrew — Maybe; but you'll see I'm right before you've gone far. You're not as big a nut as you'd like to make out. You'd better not say anything to Uncle Dick about spells and things when you're on the ship. He'll likely chuck you overboard for a Jonah. [He jumps down from fence.] I'd better run along. I've got to wash up some as long as Ruth's Ma is coming over for supper. Robert — [Pointedly — almost bitterly.] And Ruth. BEYOND THE HORIZON 15 Andrew — [Confuted — looking- everywhere except at Robert — trying to appear unconcei'ned.\ Yes, Pa did say she was staying too. Well, I better hustle, I guess, and [He steps over the ditch to the road while he is talking.] Robert — [Who appears to be fighting some strong inward emotion — impulsively.] Wait a minute, Andy ! [He jumps down from the fence. ] There is something I want to [He stops abruptly, biting his lips, his face coloring.] Andrew — [Facing him; half -defiantly.] Yes? Robert — [Confusedly.] No never mind ' it doesn't matter, it was nothing. Andrew — [After a pause, during which he stares fixedly at Robert's averted face.] Maybe I can guess what you were going to say but I guess you're right not to talk about it. [He pulls Robert's hand from his side and grips it tensely; the two brothers stand looking into each other's eyes for a minute.] We can't help those things, Rob. [He turns away, suddenly releasing Robert's hand.] You'll be coming along shortly, won't you.'' Robert — [Dully.] Yes. Andrew — See you later, then. [He walks off down the road to the left. Robert stares after him for a moment; then climbs to the fence rail again, and looks out over the hills, an expression of deep grief on his face. After a monunt or so, Ruth enters hurriedly from the left. She is a healthy, blonde, out-of-door girl of twenty, with a graceful, slender figure. Her 16 BEYOND THE HORIZON face, though inclined to roundness, is undeniably pretty, its large eyes of a deep blue set off strikingly by the sun-bronzed complexion. Her small, regular features are marked by a certain strength — an under- lying, stubborn fixity of purpose hidden in the frankly- appealing charm of her fresh youthfulness. She wears a simple white dress but no hat.] Ruth — [Seeing him.] Hello, Rob! Robert — [Startled.] Hello, Ruth! Ruth — [Jumps the ditch and perches on the fence beside him.] I was looking for you. Robert — [Pointedly.] Andy just left here. Ruth — I know. I met him on the road a second ago. He told me you were here. [Tenderly playful.] I wasn't looking for Andy, Smarty, if that's what you mean. I was looking for you. Robert — Because I'm going away tomorrow? Ruth — Because your mother was anxious to have you come home and asked me to look for you. I just wheeled Ma over to your house. Robert — [Perfunctorily.] How is your mother? Ruth — [A shadow coming over her face.] She's about the same. She never seems to get any better or any worse. Oh, Rob, I do wish she'd pick up a little or or try to make the best of things that can't be helped. Robert — Has she been nagging at you again? Ruth — [Nods her head, and then breaks forth rebelliously .] She never stops nagging. No matter what I do for her she finds fault. She's growing more BEYOND THE HORIZON 17 irritable every day. Oh, Rob, you've no idea how hard it is living there alone with her in that big lonely house. It's enough to drive anyone mad. If only Pa was still living [She stops as if ashamed of her outburst.] I suppose I shouldn't complain this way. I wouldn't to any one but you. [She sighs.] Poor Ma, Lord knows it's hard enough for her — hav- ing to be wheeled around in a chair ever since I was born. I suppose it's natural to be cross when you're not able ever to walk a step. But why should she be in a temper with me all the time? Oh, I'd like to be going away some place — like you! Robert — It's hard to stay — and equally hard to go, sometimes. Ruth — There ! If I'm not the stupid body ! I swore I wasn't going to speak about your trip — until after you'd gone; and there I go, first thing! RoBKRT — Why didn't you want to speak of it.'' Ruth — Because I didn't want to spoil this last night you're here. Oh, Rob, I'm going to — we're all going to miss you so awfully. Your mother is going around looking as if she'd burst out crying any minute. You ought to know how I feel. Andy and you and I — why it seems as if we'd always been together. Robert — [With a wry attempt at a smile.] You and Andy will still have each other. It'll be harder for me without anyone. Ruth — But you'll have new sights and new people to take your mind off; while we'll be here with the 18 BEYOND THE HORIZON old, familiar place to remind us every minute of the day. It's a shame you're going — just at this time, in spring, when everything is getting so nice. [With a sigh.] I oughtn't to talk that way when I know going's the best thing for you — on account of your health. The sea trip's bound to do you so much good, everyone says. Robert — [Wih a half-resentful grimac] Don't tell me you think I'm a hopeless invalid, too! I've heard enough of that talk from the folks. Honestly, Ruth, I feel better than I ever did in my life. I'm disgustingly healthy. I wouldn't even consider my health an excuse for this trip. Ruth — [Vaguely.] Of course you're bound to find all sorts of opportunities to get on, your father say^. Robert — [Heatedly.] I don't give a dartin about that ! I wouldn't take a voyage across the road for the best opportunity in the world of the kind Pa thinks of. I'd run away from it instead. [He smiles at his own irritation.] Excuse me, Ruth, for getting worked up over it ; but Andy gave me an overdose of the practical considerations. RiTTH — [Slotc^y puzzled.] Well, then, if it isn't any of those reasons [With sudden intensity.] Oh, Rob, wh}^ do you want to go ? Robert — [Turning to her quickly, in surprise — slowly.] Why do you ask that, Ruth? Ruth — [Dropping her eyes before his searching glance.] Because [Lamely.] It seems such a shame. BEYOND THE HORIZON 19 Robert — [Insistentli/. ] Why ? Ruth — Oh, because — everything. Robert — I could hardly back out now, even if I wanted to. And I'll be forgotten before you know it. Ruth — [Indignantly.^ You won't! I'll never for- get [She stops and turns away to hide her con- fusion. \ Robert — [Softly. \ Will you promise me that? Ruth — [Evasively.] Of course. It's mean of you to think that any of us would forget so easily. Robert — [Disappointedly.] Oh! Ruth — [With an attempt at lightness.] But you haven't told me your reason for leaving yet? Aren't you going to? Robert — [Moodily.] I doubt if you'll understand. It's difficult to explain, even to m^J^self. It's more an instinctive longing that won't stand dissection. Either you feel it, or you don't. The cause of it all is in the blood and the bone, I guess, not in the brain, although imagination plays a large part in it. I can remember being conscious of it first when I was only a kid — you haven't forgotten what a sickly specimen I was then, in those days, have you? Ruth — [With a shudder.] They're past. Let's not think about them. Robert — You'll have to, to understand. Well, in those days, when Ma was fixing meals, she used to get me out of the way by pushing my chair to the west window and telling me to look out and be quiet. That wasn't hard. I guess I was alwaj'^s quiet. 20 BEYOND THE HORIZON Ruth — {Compassionately.^ Yes, you always were — and you suffering so much, too ! Robert — [Musingly.^ So I used to stare out over the fields to the hills, out there — [He 'points to the horizon^ and somehow after a time I'd forget any pain I was in, and start dreaming. I knew the sea was over beyond those hills, — the folks had told me — and I used to wonder what the sea was like, and try to form a picture of it in my mind. {With a smile.^ There was all the mystery in the world to me then about that — far-off sea — and there still is ! It called to me then just as it does now. {After a slight pause. ^ And other times my eyes would follow this road, winding off into the distance, toward the hills, as if it, too, was searching for the sea. And I'd promise myself that when I grew up and was strong, I'd follow that road, and it and I would find the sea together. {With a smile. ^ You see, my making this trip is only keeping that promise of long ago. Ruth — {Charmed by his low, musical voice telling the dreams of his childhood.] Yes, I see. Robert — Those were the only happy moments of my life then, dreaming tliere at the window. I liked to be all alone — those times. I got to know all the different kinds of sunsets by heart — the clear ones and the cloudy ©nes, and all the color schemes of their countless variations — although I could hardly name more than three or four colors correctly. And all those sunsets took place over there — {He points] beyond the horizon. So gradually I came to believe ^ BEYOND THE HORIZON ^1 that all the wonders of the world happened on the other side of those hills. There was the home of the good fairies who performed beautiful miracles. [He smiles.] I believed in fairies then, although I suppose I ought to have been ashamed of it from a boy's standpoint. But you know how contemptuous of all religion Pa's always been — even the mention of it in the house makes him angry. Ruth — Yes. [Wearilp.] It's just the opposite to our house. Robert — He'd bullied Ma into being ashamed of believing in anything and he'd forbidden her to teach Andy or me. There wasn't much about our home but the life on the farm. I didn't like that, so I had to believe in fairies. [With a smile.] Perhaps I still do believe in them. Anyway, in those days they were real enough, and sometimes — I suppose the mental science folks would explain it by self-hypnosis — I could actually hear them calling to me in soft whispers to come out and play with them, dance with them down the road in the dusk in a game of hide-and-seek to find out where the sun was hiding himself. They sang their little songs to me, songs that told of all the wonderful things they had in their home on the other side of the hills ; and they promised to show me all of them, if I'd only come, come ! But I couldn't come then, and I used to cry sometimes and Ma would think I was in pain. [He breaks off suddenly with a lavgh.] That's why I'm going now, I suppose. For I can still hear them calling, although I'm a man and 22 BEYOND THE HORIZON have seen the other side of many hills. But the horizon is as far away and as luring as ever. [He turns to her — softly.] Do you understand now, Ruth.'' Ruth — [Spellbound, in a whisper.] Yes. Robert — You feel it thcii.'^ Ruth — Yes, yes, I do ! [ Unconsciously she snug- gles close against his side. His arm steals about her as if he were not aware of the action.] Oh, Rob, how could I help feeling it.? You tell things so beauti- fully! Robert — [Suddenly realizing that his arm is around her, and that her head is resting on his shoulder, gently takes his arm away. Ruth, brought back to herself, is overcome with confusion.] So now you know why I'm going. It's for that reason — that and one other. Ruth — You've another? Then 3'ou must tell me that, too. Robert — [^Looking at her searchingly. She drops her eyes before his gaze.^ I wonder if I ought to. I wonder if 3'^ou'd really care to hear it — if you knew. You'll promise not to be angry — whatever it is.? Ruth — [Softly, her face still averted.] Yes, I promise. Robert — [Simply.] I love you. That's the other reason. Ruth — [Hiding her face in her hands.] Oh, Rob! Robert — You must let me finish now I've begun. I wasn't going to tell you, but I feel I have to. It BEYOND THE HORIZON 2S can't matter to jou now that I'm going so far away, and for so long — perhaps forever. I've loved you all these years, but the realization of it never came to me 'til I agreed to go away with Uncle Dick. Then I thought of leaving you, and the pain of that thought revealed the truth to me in a flash — that I loved you, had loved you as long as I could remember. [He gently pulls one of Ruth's hands away from her face.] You musn't mind my telling you this, Ruth. I realize how impossible it all is — and I understand; for the revelation of my own love seemed to open my eyes to the love of others. I saw Andy's love for you — and I knew that you must love him. Ruth — [Breaking out stormily.] I don't! I don't love Andy ! I don't ! [Robert stares at her in stupid astonishment. Ruth weeps hysterically.] Whatever -put such a fool notion into — into your head? [She suddenly throws her arms about his neck and hides her head on his shoulder.] Oh, Rob! Don't go away! Please I You mustn't, now ! You can't ! I won't let you ! It'd break my — my heart ! Robert — [The expression of stupid bewilderment giving way to one of overwhelming joy. He presses her close to him — slowly and tenderly.] Do you mean that — that you love me? Ruth — [Sobbing.] Yes, yes — of course I do — what d'you s'pose? [She lifts up her head and looks into his eyes with a tremulous smile.] You stupid thing! [He kisses her.] I've loved you right along. 24. BEYOND THE HORIZON Robert — [Mystified.] But you and Andy were always together ! Ruth — Because you never seemed to want to go any place with me. You were always reading an old book, and not paying any attention to me. I was too proud to let you see I cared because I thought the year you had away to college had made you stuck-up, and you thought yourself too educated to waste any time on me. Robert — [Kissing her.] And I was thinking [With a laugh.] What fools we've both been! Ruth — [Overcome hy a sudden fear.] You won't go away on the trip, will you, Rob ? You'll tell them you can't go on account of me, won't you? You can't; go now ! You can't ! Robert — [Bewildered.] Perhaps — you can come too. Ruth — Oh, Rob, don't be so foolish. You know I can't. Who'd take care of Ma.'* She has no one ini the world but me. I can't leave her — the way she is. It'd be different if she was well and healthy like other people. Don't you see I couldn't go — on her account ? Robert — [Vaguely.] I could go — and then send for you both — when I'd settled some place out there. Ruth — Ma never could. She'd never leave the farm for anything ; and she couldn't make a trip any- where 'til she got better — if she ever does. And oh Rob, I wouldn't want to live in any of those out landish places you were going to. I couldn't stanc it there, I know I couldn't — not knowing anyone. H BEYOND THE HORIZON S5 makes me afraid just to think of it. I've never been away from here, hardly and — I'm just a home body, I'm afraid. [She clings to him imploringly. \ Please don't go — not now. Tell thfcm you've decided not to. They won't mind. I know your mother and father'll be glad. They'll all be. They don't want you to go so far away from them. Please, Rob! We'll be so happy here together where it's natural and we know things. Please tell me you won't go ! Robert — [Face to face with a definite, final deci- sion, betrays the convict going on within him,\ But —Ruth— I— Uncle Dick Ruth — He won't mind when he knows it's for your happiness to stay. How could he,'' [As Robert remains silent she bursts into sobs agabi.] Oh, Rob! And you said — you loved me ! Robert — [Conquered by this appeal — an iri'evo- cable decision in his voice.] I won't go, Ruth. I promise you. There! Don't cry! [He presses her to him, stroking her hair tenderly. After a pause he speaks with happy hopefulness.] Perhaps after all Andy was right — righter than he knew — when he said I could find all the things I was seeking for here, at home on the farm. The mystery and the wonder — our love should bring them home to us. I think love must have been the secret — the secret that called to me from over the world's rim — the secret beyond every horizon; and when I did not come, it came to me. [He clasps Ruth to him fiercely.] Oh, Ruth, you 26 BEYOND THE HORIZON are right ! Our love is sweeter than any dista] dream. It is the meaning of all life, the whole worL The kingdom of heaven is within — us! \^He kissi her passionately and steps to the ground, lifting Ruth in his arms and carrying her to the road where he puts her down.^ Ruth — {With a happy laugh.] My, but you're strong ! Robert — Come! We'll go and tell them at once. Ruth — [Dismayed.l Oh, no, don't, Rob, not 'til after I've gone. Then you can tell your folks and I'll tell Ma when I get her home. There'd be bound to be such a scene with them all together. Robert — [Kissing her — gaily.] As you like- little Miss Common Sense! ' Ruth — Let's go, then. [She takes his hand, and they start to go off left. Robert suddenly stops and turns as though for a last look at the hills and the dying sunset push.] Robert — [Looking upward and pointing.] See!, The first star. [He bends down and kisses her ten- derly.] Our star! Ruth — [In a soft murmur.] Yes. Our very owr star. [They stand for a moment looking up at it, their arms around each other. Then Ruth takes his, hand again and starts to lead him away.] Come, Rob, let's go. [His eyes are fixed again on the horizon at he half turns to follow her. Ruth urges.] We'll be late for supper, Rob. BEYOND THE HORIZON 27 Robert — [Shakes his head impatiently/, as though he were throwing off some disturbing thought — with a laugh.] All right. We'll run then. Come on! [They run off laughing as [The Curtain Falls] ACT ONE SCENE TWO Scene — The sitting room of the Mayo farm house about nine o'clock the same night. On the left, two windows loobing out on the fields. Against the xvall between the windows, an old-fashioned walnut deslc. In the left corner, rear, a sideboard with a mirror. In the rear wall to the right of the sideboard, a window looking out on the road. Next to the window a door leading out into the yard. Farther right, a black horse-hair sofa, and another door opening on a bedroom. In the cor- ner, a straight-backed chair. In the right wall, near the middle, an open doorway leading to the kitchen. Farther forward a double-heater stove with coal scuttle, etc. In the center of the newly carpeted floor, an oak dining-room table zvifh a red cover. In the center of the table, a large all reading lamp. Four chairs, three rockers with crocheted, tidies on their backs, and one straight- backed, are placed about the table. The walls are papered a dark red with a scr oily-figured pattern. Everything in the room is clean, well-kept, and 28 BEYOND THE HORIZON 29 in its exact place, yet there is no suggestion of primness about the whole. Rather the atmosphere is one of the orderly comfort of a simple, hard- earned prosperity, enjoyed and maintained by the family as a unit. James Mayo, his wife, her brother. Captain Dick Scott, aiid Andrew are discovered. Mrs. Mayo is a slight, round-faced, rather prim-look- ing woman of ffty-five who had once been a school teacher. The labors of a farmer's wife have bent but not broken her, and she retains a certain refinement of movement and expression foreign to the Mayo part of the family. What- ever of resemblance Robert has to his parents may be traced to her. Her brother, the Captain, is short ajid stocky, with a weather-beaten, jovial face and a white moustache — a typical old salt, loud of voice and given to gesture. He is fifty- eight years old. James Mayo sits in front of the table. He wears spectacles, and a farm journal which he has been reading lies in his lap. The Captain leans forward from a chair in the rear, his hands on the table in front of him. Andrew is tilted back on the straight-backed chair to the left, his chin sunk forward on his chest, staring at the carpet, preoccupied and frowning. As the Curtain rises the Captain is just finish- ing the relation of some sea episode. The others 30 BEYOND THE HORIZON are pretending an interest which is belied hy the absent-minded expressions on their faces. The Captain — [Chuckling.] And that mission woman, she hails me on the dock as I was acomin' ashore, and she sajs — with her silly face all screwed up serious as judgment — "Captain," she says, "would you be so kind as to tell me where the sea-gulls sleeps at nights ? " Blow me if them warn't her exact words ! {He slaps the table with the palm of his hands and laughs loudly. The others force smiles.] Ain't that just like a fool woman's question? And I looks at her serious as I could, " Ma'm," says I, " I couldn't rightly answer that question. I ain't never seed a sea-gull in his bunk yet. The next time I hears one snorin'," I says, " I'll make a note of where he's turned in, and write you a letter 'bout it." And then she calls me a fool real spiteful and tacks away from me quick. [He laughs again uproariously.] So I got rid of her that way. [The others smile but immediately relapse into expressions of gloom again.] Mrs. Mayo — [Absent-mindedly — feeling that she has to say something.] But when it comes to that, where do sea-gulls sleep, Dick.^* Scott — [Slapping the table.] Ho! Ho! Listen to her, James. 'Nother one! Well, if that don't beat all hell — 'scuse me for cussin', Kate. Mayo — [With a twinkle in his eyes.] They unhitch their wings, Katey, and spreads 'em out on a wave for a bed. BEYOND THE HORIZON 31 Scott — ^And then they tells the fish to whistle to 'era when it's time to turn out. Ho ! Ho ! Mrs. Mayo — [With a forced smile.] You men folks are too smart to live, aren't you? [She resumes her knitting. Mayo pretends to read his paper; Andrew stares at the floor.] Scott — [Looks from one to the other of them with a puzzled air. Finally he is unable to bear the thick silence a minute longer, and blurts out:] You folks look as if you was settin' up with a corpse. ^With exaggerated concern.] God A'raighty, there ain't anyone dead, be there? Mayo — [Sharply.] Don't play the dunce, Dick! You know as well as we do there ain't no great cause to be feelin' chipper. Scott — [Argumentatively.] And there ain't no cause to be wearin' mourning, either, I can make out. Mrs. Mayo — [Indignantly.] How can you talk that way, Dick Scott, when you're taking our Robbie away from us, in the middle of the night, you might say, just to get on that old boat of yours on time! I think you might wait until morning when he's had his breakfast. Scott — [Appealing to the others hopelessly.] Ain't that a woman's way o' seein' things for you? God A'mighty, Kate, I can't give orders to the tide that it's got to be high just when it suits me to have it. I ain't gettin' no fun out o' missin' sleep and leavin' here at six bells myself. [Frotestingly.] And the Sunda ain't an old ship — ^leastways, not very old 32 BEYOND THE HORIZON — and she's good's she ever was. Your boy Robert'll be as safe on board o' her as he'd be home in bed here. Mrs. Mayo — How can you say that, Dick, when we read in almost every paper about wrecks and storms, and ships being sunk. Scott — You've got to take your chances with such things. They don't happen often — not nigh as often as accidents do ashore. Mrs. Mayo — [Her lips trembling.] I wish Robbie weren't going — not so far away and for so long. Mayo — [Looking at her over his glasses — consol- ingly. ] There, Katey ! Mrs. Mayo — [Rebelliously.] Well, I do wish he wasn't ! It'd be different if he'd ever been away from home before for any length of time. If he was healthy and strong too, it'd be different. I'm so afraid he'll be taken down ill when you're miles from land, and there's no one to take care of him. Mayo — That's the very reason you was willin' for him to go, Katey — 'count o' your bein' 'fraid for his health. Mrs. Mayo — [Illogically.] But he seems to be all right now without Dick taking him away. Scott — [Protestingly.] You'd think to hear you, Kate, that I was kidnappin' Robert agin your will. Now I ain't asayin' I ain't tickled to death to have him along, because I be. It's a'mighty lonesome for a captain on a sailin' vessel at times, and Robert'll be company for me. But what I'm sayin' is, I didn't BEYOND THE HORIZON 33 propose it. I never even suspicioned that he was hankerin* to ship out, or that you'd let him go 'til you and James speaks to me 'bout it. And now you blames me for it. Mayo — That's so. Dick's speaking the truth, Katey. Scott — You shouldn't be taking it so hard, 's far as I kin see. This vige'll make a man of him. I'll see to it he learns how to navigate, 'n' study for a mate's c'tificate right off — and it'll give him a trade for the rest of his life, if he wants to travel. Mrs. Mayo. — But I don't want him to travel all his life. You've got to see he comes home when this trip is over. Then he'll be all well, and he'll want to — to marry — [Andrew sits forward in his chair with an abrupt movement.] — and settle down right here. Scott — Well, in any case it won't hurt him to learn things when he's travellin'. And then he'll get to see a lot of the world in the ports we put in at, 'n' that '11 help him afterwards, no matter what he takes up. Mrs. Mayo — [Sta^-ing down at the knitting in her lap — as if she hadn't heard him.] I never realized how hard it was going to be for me to have Robbie go — or I wouldn't have considered it a minute. {On the verge of tears.] Oh, if only he wouldn't go! Scott — It ain't no good goin' on that way, Kate, now it's all settled. Mrs. Mayo — [Half -sobbing.] It's all right for you to talk. You've never had any children of your 34 BEYOND THE HORIZON own, and you don't know what it means to be parted from them — and Robbie my youngest, too. [Andrew froxems and -fidgets in his chair.^ Mayo — {A trace of command in his voice.] No use takin' on so, Katey ! It's best for the boy. We've got to take that into consideration — no matter how much we hate to lose him. [Firmly/.] And like Dick says, it's all settled now. Andrew — [Sudderdy turning to them,] There's one thing none of you seem to take into consideration — that Rob wants to go. He's dead set on it. He's been dreaming over this trip ever since it was first talked about. It wouldn't be fair to him not to have him go. [A sudden thought seems to strike him and he continues doiihtfully.] At least, not if he still feels the same way about it he did when he was talking to me this evening. Mayo — [With an air of decision.] Andy's right, Katey. Robert wants to go. That ends all argyment, you can see that. Mrs. Mayo — [Faintly, hut resignedly.] Yes. I suppose it must be, then. Mayo — [Looking at his hig silver watch.] It's past nine. Wonder what's happened to Robert. He's been gone long enough to wheel the widder to home, certain. He can't be out dreamin' at the stars his last night. Mrs. Mayo — [A bit reproachfully.] Why didn't you wheel Mrs. Atkins back tonight, Andy.'' You usually do when she and Ruth come over. BEYOND THE HORIZON 35 Andrew — [Avoiding her eyes.] I thought maybe Robert wanted to go tonight. He offered to go right away when they were leaving. Mrs. Mayo — He only wanted to be polite. Andrew — [Gets to his feet.] Well, he'll be right back, I guess. [He turns to his father.] Guess I'll go take a look at the black cow, Pa — see if she's ailing any. Mayo — Yes — better had, son. [Andrew goes i/nto the kitchen on the right.] Scott — [As he goes out — in a low tone.] There's the boy that would make a good, strong sea-farin' man — if he'd a mind to. Mayo — [Sharply.] Don't you put no such fool notions in Andys head, Dick — or you 'n' me's goin' to fall out. [Then he smiles.] You couldn't tempt him, no ways. Andy's a Mayo bred in the bone, and he's a born farmer, and a damn good one, too. He'll live and die right here on this farm, like I expect to. [With proud confidence.] And he'll make this one of the slickest, best-payin' farms in the state, too, afore he gits through! Scott — Seems to me it's a pretty slick place right now. Mayo — [Shaking his head.] It's too small. We need more land to make it amount to much, and we ain't got the capital to buy it. [Andrew enters from the kitchen. His hat is on, and he carries a lighted lantern in his hand. He goes to the door in the rear leading out.] 36 BEYOND THE HORIZON Andrew — [Opens the door and pauses.] Any- thing else you can think of to be done, Pa ? Mayo — No, nothin' I know of. [Andrew goes out, shutting the door.] Mrs. Mavo — [After a pause.] What's come over Andy tonight, I wonder? He acts so strange. Mayo — He docs seem sort o' glum and out of sorts. It's 'count o' Robert leavin', I s'pose. [To Scott.] Dick, you wouldn't believe how them boys o' mine sticks together. The}^ ain't like most brothers. They've been thick as thieves all their lives, with nary a quarrel I kin remember. Scott — No need to tell me that. I can see how they take to each other. Mrs. Mayo — [Pursuing her train of thought.] Did you notice, James, how queer everyone was at supper? Robert seemed stirred up about something; and Ruth was so flustered and giggly ; and Andy sat there dumb, looking as if he'd lost his best friend ; and all of them onlj' nibbled at their food. Mayo — Guess they was all thinkin' about tomor- row, same as us. Mrs. Mayo — [Shaking her head.] No. I'm afraid somethin's happened — somethin' else. Mayo — You mean — 'bout Ruth? Mrs. Mayo — Yes. Mayo — [After a pause — frowning.] I hope her and Andy ain't had a serious fallin'-out. I always sorter hoped they'd hitch up together sooner or later. BEYOND THE HORIZON 37 What d'you saj, Dick? Don't you think them twoM pair up well? Scott — [Nodding his head approv'mgli/.] A sweet, wholesome couple they'd make. Mayo — It'd be a good thing for Andy in more wa3^s than one. I ain't what you'd call calculatin' gener- ally, and I b'lieve in lettin' young folks run their affairs to suit themselves ; but there's advantages for both o' them in this match you can't overlook in reason. The Atkins farm is right next to ourn. Jined together they'd make a jim-dandj^ of a place, with plenty o' room to work in. And bein' a widder with only a daughter, and laid up all the time to boot, Mrs. Atkins can't do nothin' with the place as it ought to be done. Her hired help just goes along as they pleases, in spite o' her everlastin' complainin' at 'em. She needs a man, a first-class farmer, to take hold o' things; and Andy's just the one. Mrs. Mayo — [Abruptlij.] I don't think Ruth loves Andy. Mayo — You don't? Well, maybe a woman's eyes is sharper in such things, but — they're always to- gether. And if she don't love him now, she'll likely come around to it in time. Mayo — [As Mrs. Mayo shakes her head.] You seem mighty fixed in your opinion, Katey. How d'you know? Mrs. Mayo — It's just — what I feel. Mayo — [A light breaking over him.] You don't mean to say — [Mrs. Mayo nods. INIayo chuckles 38 BEYOND THE HORIZON scornfully.^ Shucks ! I'm losin' my respect for your eyesight, Katey. Why, Robert ain't got no time for Ruth, 'cept as a friend ! Mrs. Mayo — [Warningly.] Sss-h-h! [The door from the yard opens, and Robert enters. He is smil- ing happily, and humming a song to himself, but as he comes into the room an undercurrent of nervous un- easiness manifests itself in his beaiing.] Mayo — So here you be at last ! [Robert comes forward and sits on Andy's chair. Mayo smiles slyly at his wife.] What have you been doin' all this time — countin' the stars to see if they all come out right and proper ? Robert — There's only one I'll ever look for any more, Pa. Mayo — [Reproachfully.] You miight've even not wasted time lookin' for that one — your last night. Mrs. Mayo — [As if she were speaking to a child.] You ought to have worn your coat a sharp night like this, Robbie. Robert — I wasn't cold. Ma. It's beautiful and warm on the road. Scott — [Disgustedly.] God A'mighty, Kate, you treat Robert as if he was one year old ! Robert — [With a smile.] I'm used to that. Uncle. Scott — [With joking severity.] You'll learn to forget all that baby coddlin' nights down off the Horn when you're haulin' hell-bent on the braces with a green sea up to your neck, and the old hooker doin' BEYOND THE HORIZON 89 summersaults under you. That's the stuff '11 put iron in your blood, eh Kate? Mrs. Mayo — [Indignantly.] What are you try- ing to do, Dick Scott — frighten me out of my senses? If you can't say anything cheerful, you'd better keep still. Scott — Don't take on, Kate. I was only joshin' him and you. Mrs. Mayo — You have strange notions of what's a joke, I must say! [She notices Robert's nervous uneasiness.] You look all worked up over something, Robbie. What is it? Robert — [Swallo'wing hard, looks quickly from one to the other of them — then begins determinedly.] Yes, there is something — something I must tell you — all of you. [As he begins to talk Andrew enters quietly from the rear, closing the door behind him, and setting the lighted lantern on the floor. He re^ mains standing by the door, his arms folded, listening to Robert with a repressed expression of pain on his face. Robert is so much taken up with what he is going to say that he does not notice Andrew's pres- ence.] Something I discovered only this evening — very beautiful and wonderful — something I did not take into consideration previously because I hadn't dared to hope that such happiness could ever come to me. [Appealingly.] You must all remember that fact, won't you? Mayo — [Frowning.] Let's get to the point, son. Robert — You were offended because you thought 40 BEYOND THE HORIZON I'd been wasting my time star-gazing on m}' last night at home. [ With a trace of defiance.] Well, the point is this, Pa; it isn^t m}' last night at home. I'm not going — I mean — I can't go tomorrow with Uncle Dick — or at any future time, either. Mrs. Mayo — [With a sharp sigh of joyful relief.] Oh, Robbie, I'm so glad ! Mayo — [Astounded.] You ain't serious, be you, Robert? Robert — Yes, I mean what I say. Mayo — [Severely.] Seems to me it's a pretty late liour in the day for you to be upsettin' all your plans so sudden ! Robert — I asked you to remember that until this evening I didn't know myself — the wonder which makes everything else in the world seem sordid and pitifully selfish by comparison. I had never dared to dream Mayo — [Irritahlij.] Come to the point. What is this foolishness you're talkin' of? Robert — [Flushing.] Ruth told me this evening that — she loved me. It was after I'd confessed I loved her. I told her I hadn't been conscious of my love until after the trip had been arranged, and I realized it would mean — leaving her. That was the truth. I didn't know until then. [As if justifying himself to the others.] I hadn't intended telling her anything but — suddenly — I felt I must. I didn't think it would matter, because I was going away, and before I came back I was sure she'd have forgotten. BEYOND THE HORIZON 41 And I thought she loved — someone else. [Slowly — his eyes shining.] And then she cried and said it was I she'd loved all the time, but I hadn't seen it. [Simj^ly-] So we're going to be married — very soon — and I'm happy — and that's all there is to say. [Appealingly.] But you see, I couldn't go away now — even if I wanted to. Mrs. jMayo — [Getting up from her chair.] Of course not ! [Rushes over and throws her arms about him.] I knew it! I was just telling your father when you came in — and, Oh, Robbie, I'm so happy you're not going ! RoBEKT — [Kishng her.] I knew you'd be glad, Ma. Mayo — [Bewilder edly.] Well, I'll be damned! You do beat all for gettin' folks' minds all tangled up, Robert. And Ruth too! Whatever got into her of a sudden .f^ Why, I was thinkin' Mrs. Mayo — [Hurriedly — in a tone of warning.] Never mind what you were thinking, James. It wouldn't be any use telling us that now. [Mean- ingly.] And what you were hoping for turns out just the same almost, doesn't it? Mayo — [Thoughtfully — beginning to see this side of the argument. ] Yes ; I suppose you're right, Katey. [Scratching his head in puzzlement.] But how it ever come about! It do beat anything ever I heard. [Finally he gets up with a sheepish grin jind walks over to Robert.] We're glad you ain't goin', your Ma and I, for we'd have missed you ter- rible, that's certain and sure; and we're glad you've 42 BEYOND THE HORIZON found happiness. Ruth's a fine girl and'U make a good wife to you. Robert — [Much moved.] Thank you, Pa. [He grips his father^ s hand in his.] Akdkew — [His face tense and drawn comes for- ward and holds out his hand, forcing a smile.] I guess it's my turn to offer congratulations, isn't it ? Robert — [With a startled cry when his brother ap- pears before him so suddenly.] Andy! [Confused.] Why — I — I didn't see you. Were you here when Andrew — I heard everything you said; and here's wishing you every happiness, you and Ruth. You both deserve the best there is. Robert — [Taking his hand.] Thanks, Andy, it's fine of you to [His voice dies away as he sees the pain in AnBREw^s eyes.] Andrew — [Giving his brother'' s hand a final grip.] Good luck to you both! [He turns away and goes bach to the rear when he bends over the lantern, fumbling with it to hide his emotion from the others.] Mrs. Mayo — [To the Captain, who has been too flabbergasted by Robert's decision to say a word.] What's the matter, Dick? Aren't you going to con- gratulate Robbie ? Scott — [Embarrassed.] Of course I be! [He gets to his feet and shakes Robert's hand, ^fluttering a vague] Luck to you, boy. [He stands beside Robert as if he wanted to say something more but doesn't know how to go about it.] Robert — Thanks, Uncle Dick. BEYOND THE HORIZON 43 Scott — So you're not aconiin' on the Sunda with me? [His voice indicates disbelief.] Robert — I can't, Uncle — not now. I'm very grateful to you for having wanted to take me. I wouldn't miss it for anything else in the world under any other circumstances. [He sighs unconsciously.] But you see I've found — a bigger dream. Scott — [GrufflT/.] Bring the girl along with you. I'll fix it so there's room. Mrs. Mayo — [Sharply.] How can you propose such a crazy idea, Dick — to take a young girl on a sail-boat all over the world and not a woman on the boat but herself. Have you lost your senses.'' Robert — [Regret f idly.] It would be wonderful if we could both go with you, Uncle — but it's impos- sible. Ruth couldn't go on account of her mother, and besides, I'm afraid slie doesn't like the idea of the sea. Scott — [Ptitting all his disapproval into an ex- clamation.] Humph! [He goes back and sits down at the table.] Robert — [In joyous high spirits.] I want you all to understand one thing — I'm not going to be a loafer on your hands any longer. This meians the beginning of a new life for me in every way. I'm sick and dis- gusted at myself for sitting around and seeing every- one else hard at work, while all I've been doing is keep the accounts — a couple of hours work a week! I'm going to settle right down and take a real interest in the farm, and do my share. I'll prove to you, Pa, 44 BEYOND THE HORIZON that I'm as good a Majo as you are — or Andy, when I want to be. Mayo — [Kindly hut sl:epUcaHy.\ That's the right spirit, Robert, but it ain't needful for you to Mrs. Mayo — [Intemipting him.] No one said you weren't doing your part, Robbie. You've got to look out for Robert — I know what you're going to say, and that's another false idea you've got to get out of your heads. It's ridiculous for you to persist in look- ing on me as an invalid. I'm as well as anyone, and I'll prove it to you if you'll give me half a chance. Once I get the hang of it, I'll be able to do as hard a day's work as any one. You wait and see. Mayo — Ain't none of us doubts your willin'ness, but you ain't never learned Robert — Then I'm going to start learning right away, and you'll teach me, won't you.^* Mayo — [Mollifyingly.] Of course I will, boy, and be glad to, only j^ou'd best go easy at first. Robert — With the two farms to look after, you'll need me; and when I marr}^ Ruth I'll have to know how to take care of things for her and her mother. Mayo — That's so, son. Scott — [Who has listened to this conversation in mingled consternation and amazement.] You don't mean to tell me you're goin' to let him stay, do j^ou, James ? Mayo — Why, things bein' as they be, Robert's free to do as he's a mind to. BEYOND THE HORIZON 45 Mks. Mayo — Let him! The very idea ! Scott — {More and more rufjied.] Then all I got to say is, 3'ou're a soft, weak-willed critter to be per- niittin' a boy — and women, too — to be layin' your course for you wherever they damn pleases. Mayo — {Slyly amused.] It's just the same with me as 'twas with you, Dick. You can't order the tides on the seas to suit you, and I ain't pretendin' I can reg'late love for young folks. Scott — {Scornfully.] Love! They ain't old enough to know love when they sight it ! Love ! I'm ashamed of you, Robert, to go lettin' a little huggin' and kissin' in the dark spile your chances to make a man out o' yourself. It ain't common sense — no siree, it ain't — not by a hell of a sight! [He pounds the table with his fists in exasperation.] Robert — {Smiling.] I'm afraid I can't help it, Uncle. Scott — Humph! You ain't got any sand, that's what ! And you, James Mayo, lettin' boys and women run things to the devil and back — you've got less sense than he has ! Mayo — {With a grin.] If Robert can't help it, I'm sure I ain't able, Dick. I\Irs. Mayo — [Laughing provohvngly at her brother.] A fine one you are to be talking about love, Dick — an old cranky bachelor like you. Goodness sakes ! Scott — [Exasperated by their joking.] I've 46 BEYOND THE HORIZON never been a damn fool like most, if that's what you're steerin' at. Mrs. Mayo — [Tawntinglt/.] Sour grapes, aren't they, Dick? [She laughs. Robekt and his father chuckle. Scott sputters rcith annoyance.^ Good gracious, Dick, you do act silly, flying into a temper over notliing. Scott — [Indignantly.^ Nothin' ! Is that what you call it — nothin'? You talk as if I wasn't con- cerned nohow in this here business. Seems to me I've got a right to have my say. Ain't I gone to all sorts o' trouble gettin' the sta'b'd cabin aU cleaned out and painted and fixed up so's that Robert o' yours 'd be comfortable? Ain't I made all arrangements with the owners and stocked up with some special grub all on Robert's account? Robert — You've been fine, Uncle Dick ; and I ap- preciate it. Truly. Mato — 'Course ; we all does, Dick. INIrs. Mato — And don't spoil it now by getting angry at us. Scott — [JJnplacated.^ It's all right for you to say don't this and don't that ; but you ain't seen things from my side of it. I've been countin' sure on bavin' Robert for company on this vige — to sorta talk to and show things to, and teach, kinda, and I got my mind so set on havin' him I'm goin' to be double lonesome this vige. [He pounds on the table, attempting to cover up this confession of iceakncss.] Dam all this siUy lovin' business, anyway. BEYOND THE HORIZON 47 Mes. Mayo — [Touched.] It's too bad you have to be so lonesome, Dick. Why don't you give up the old boat? You've been on the sea long enough, heaven's knows. Why don't you make up your mind and settle down here with us? Scott — [EmpJiaticalli/.] And go diggin' up the dirt and plantin' things? Not by a hell of a sight! You can have all the darned dirt in the earth for all o' me. I ain't sayin' it ain't all right — if you're made that way — but / ain't. No settlin' down for me. No sirree! [Irritably.] But all this talk ain't tellin' me what I'm to do with that sta'b'd cabin I fixed up. It's all painted white, an a bran new mattress on the bunk, 'n' new sheets 'n' blankets 'n' things. And Chips ' built in a book-case so's Robert could take his books along — with a slidin' bar fixed across't it, mind, so's they couldn't fall out no matter how she rolled. [ With excited consternation.^ What d'you suppose my offi- cers is goin' to think when there's no one comes aboard to occupy that sta'b'd cabin? And the men what did the work on it — what'll they think? [He shakes his finger indignantly.] They're liable as not to suspicion it was a womun I'd planned to ship along, and that she gave me the go-by at the last moment ! [He zcipes his perspiring brow in anguish at this thought.] Gawd A'raighty ! They're only lookin' to have the laugh on me for something like that. They're liable to b'lieve anytliing, those fellers is ! Mayo — [With a xcink.] Then there's nothing to it but for you to get right out and hunt up a wife some- 48 BEYOND THE HORIZON wheres for that spic 'n' span cabin. She'll have to be a pretty one, too, to match it. [He looJcs at his watch with exaggerated concern.] You ain't got much time to find her, Dick. Scott — [As the others smile — sulkili/.] You kin go to thunder, Jim Mayo ! Andrew — [Comes forward from where he has been standing by the door, rear, brooding. His face is set in a look of grim determination.] You needn't worry about that spare cabin. Uncle Dick, if you've a mind to take me in Robert's place. Robert — [Turning to him quickly.] Andy! [He sees at once the fixed resolve in his brother's eyes, and realizes immediately the reason for it — in consterna- tion.] Andy, you mustn't! Andrew — You've made your decision, Rob, ani now I've made mine. You're out of this, remember. Robert — [Hurt by his brother's tone.] But^ Andy Andrew — Don't interfere, Rob — that's all I askij [Turning to his uncle.] You haven't answered m^ question. Uncle Dick. Scott — [Clearijig his throat, with an uneasy side glance at James Mayo who is staring at his elder son as if he tliought he had suddenly gone mad.] O' course, I'd be glad to have you, Andy. Andrew — It's settled then. I can pack the little I want to take in a few minutes. Mrs. Mayo — Don't be a fool, Dick. Andy's only joking you. He wouldn't go for anything. BEYOND THE HORIZON 49 Scott — {Disgnintledly.\ It's hard to tell who's jokin' and who's not in this house. Andrew — [Firmly.^ I'm not joking, Uncle Dick -and since I've got your permission, I'm going with you. {As Scott looks at Jihn uncertamly.] You needn't be afraid I'll go back on my word. When I say I'll go, I'll go. Robert — [Hurt by the insinuation he feels in Andrew's on€.\ Andy! That isn't fair! Mrs. Mayo — [Beginning to be disturbed.] But I know he must be fooling us. Aren't you, Andy? Andrew — No, Ma, I'm not. Mayo — [F7-owning.] Seems to me this ain't no subject to joke over — not for Andy. Andrew — [Facing his father.] I agree with you. Pa, and I tell you again, once and for all, that I've made up my mind to go. Mayo — [Dumbfounded — unable to doubt the deter- mination in Andrew's voice — helplessly.] But why, son ? Why ? Andrew — [Evasively.] I've always wanted to go, even if I ain't said anything about it. Robert — Andy ! Andrew — [Half -angrily.] You shut up, Rob! I told you to keep out of this. [Turning to his father again.] I didn't ever mention it because as long as Rob was going I knew it was no use ; but now Rob's staying on here, and Uncle Dick wants someone along with him, there isn't any reason for me not to go. 50 BEYOND THE HORIZON Mayo — [Breathing hard.] No reason? Can yoi stand there and say that to me, Andrew ? Mrs. Mayo — [Hastily — seeing the gathering storm.] He doesn't mean a word of it, James. Mayo — [MaMng a gesture to her to keep silence.]] Let me talk, Katey. [In a more kindly tone.] What's come over you so sudden, Andy.^* You know's well as I do that it wouldn't be fair o' you to run off j at a moment's notice right now when we're up to ourj necks in hard work. Andrew — [Avoiding his eyes.] Rob'll hold his en( up as soon as he learns. Mayo — You know that ain't so. Robert was neverl cut out for a farmer, and you was. Andrew — You can easily get a man to do myj work. Mayo — [Restraining his anger with an effort.] It! sounds strange to hear you, Andy, that I always thought had good sense, talkin' crazy like that. And you don't believe yourself one bit of what you've been sayin' — not 'less you've suddenly gone out of your mind. [Scornfully.] Get a man to take your place! Where'd I get him, tell me, with the shortage of farm labor hereabouts? And if I could get one, what in- t'rest d'you ■ suppose he'd take beyond doin' as littleJ work as he could for the money I paid him ? You ain'tl been workin' here for no hire, Andy, that you kin give me your notice to quit like you've done. The farm is your'n as well as mine. You've always worked on it with that understanding ; and what you're sayin' you BEYOND THE HORIZON 51 intend doin' is just skulkin' out o' your rightful re- sponsibility. Andrew — [Looking at the 'floor — simply. \ I'm sorry, Pa. [After a slight pause. ^ It's no use talk- ing any more about it. Mrs. Mayo — [In relief.^ There! I knew Andy'd come to his senses ! Andrew — Don't get the wrong idea, Ma. I'm not backing out. ]\Iayo — You mean you're goin' in spite of — every- thin'? Andrew — Yes. I'm going. I want to — and — I've got to. [He looks at his father defiantly.^ I feel I oughtn't to miss this chance to go out into the world and see things, and — I want to go. Mayo — [With hitter scor, done all a body could do to avert ruin from this house. On their heads be it ! jMrs. Mayo — [ With hopeless indifference. ] Things might be worse. Robert never had any experience in farming. You can't expect him to learn in a day. Mrs. Atkins — [SnappUy.] He's had three years to learn, and he's gettin' worse 'stead of better. He hasn't got it in him, that's what; and I do say it to you, Kate Mayo, even if he is your son. He doesn't want to learn. Everything I've told him he's that pig-headed he's gone and done the exact opposite. And now look where things are! They couldn't be worse, spite o' what you say. Not on'y your place but mine too is driftin' to rack and ruin, and I can't do nothin' to prevent, 'cause Ruth backs him up in his folly and shiftlessness. Mrs. Mayo — [With a spark of assertiveness.] You can't say but Robbie works hard, Sarah. ^Irs. Atkins — What good's workin' hard if it don't accomplish any thin', I'd like to know.'' Mrs. Mayo — Robbie's had bad luck against him.! Mrs. Atkins — Say what you've a mind to, Kate, BEYOND THE HORIZON 69 the proof of the puddin's In the eatin' ; and you can't deny that things have been goin' from bad to worse ever since your husband died two years back. Mrs. Mayo — [Wiping tears from her eyes with her handkerchief.] It was God's will that he should be taken. Mrs. Atkins — [Triumphantly.] It was God's punishment on James Mayo for the blasphemin' and denyin' of God he done all his sinful life! [Mrs. 'Mayo begins to weep softly.] There, Kate, I shouldn't be remindin' you, I know. He's at peace, poor man, and forgiven, let's pray. ]\Ir, Mayo — [Wiping her eyes — simply.] James was a good man. Mrs. Atkins — [Ignoring this remark.] What I was sayin' was that since Robert's been in charge I things've been goln' down hill steady. You don't . know how bad they are. Robert don't let on to you what's happlnin' ; and you'd never see it 3'ourself if 'twas under 3^our nose. But, thank God, Ruth still comes to me once in a while for advice when she's worried near out of her senses by his goin's-on. Do you know what she told me last night? But I forgot, she said not to tell you — still I think you've got a right to know, and It's my duty not to let such things go on behind your back. Mrs. Mayo — [Wearily.] You can tell me if you want to. Mrs. Atkins — [Bending over toward her — in a low voice.] Ruth was almost crazy about it. Robert told 70 BEYOND THE HORIZON her he'd have to mortgage the farm — said he didn't know how he'd pull through 'til harvest without it, and he can't get money any other way. [She straightens up — indignantly.^ Now what do you think of your Robert? Mrs. Mayo — [Resignedly.] If it has to be Mrs. Atkins — You don't mean to say you're goin* ' to sign away your farm, Kate Mayo — after me : warnin' you? Mrs. Mayo — I'll do what Robbie says is needful, Mrs. Atkins — [Holding up her hands.] Well, of all the foolishness ! — well, it's your farm, not mine, , and I've nothin' more to say. Mrs. Mayo — Maybe Robbie'll manage till Andy gets back and sees to things. It can't be long now. Mrs. Atkins — [With keen interest.] Ruth says Andy ought to turn up any day. When does Robert figger he'll get here? Mrs. Mayo — He says he can't calculate exactly on account o' the Sunda being a sail boat. Last letter he got was from England, the day they were sailing j for home. That was over a month ago, and Robbie | thinks they're overdue now. ■ Mrs. Atkins — We can give praise to God then that he'll be back in the nick o' time. I've got confidence in Andy and always did have, when it comes to ), f armin' ; and he ought to be tired of travellin' and i anxious to get home and settle down to work again. ,; Mrs. Mayo — Andy has been working. He's head ' BEYOND THE HORIZON 71 officer on Dick's boat, he wrote Robbie. You know that. Mrs. Atkins — That foolin' on ships is all right for a spell, but he must be right sick of it by this. Andy's got to the age where it's time he took hold of things serious and got this farm workin' as it ought to be again. Mrs. Mayo — [Musingly.] I wonder if he's changed' much. He used to be so fine-looking and strong. [With a sigh.] Three years! It seems more like three hundred. [Her eyes piling — piteously.] Oh, if James could only have lived 'til he came back — and forgiven him! Mrs. Atkins — He never would have — not James Mayo ! Didn't he keep his heart hardened against him till the last in spite of all you and Robert did to soften him? Mrs. Mayo — [With a feeble fash of anger.] Don't you dare say that! [Brokenly.] Oh, I know deep down in his heart he forgave Andy, though he was too stubborn ever to own up to it. It was that brought on his death — breaking his heart just on account of his stubborn pride. [She wipes her eyes with her handkerchief and sobs.] Mrs. Atkins — [Piotisly.] It was the will of God. [The whining crying of the child sounds from the \itchen. Mrs. Atkins frowns irritably.] Drat that young one! Seems as if she cries all the time on purpose to set a body's nerves on edge. Mrs. Mayo — [Wiping her eyes.] It's the heat 72 BEYOND THE HORIZON upsets her. Mary doesn't feel any too well these days, poor little child! Mrs. Atkins — She gets it right from her Pa — bein' sickly all the time. You can't deny Robert was always ailin' as a child. [She sighs heavily. \ It was a crazy mistake for them two to get married. I argyed against it at the time, but Ruth was so spelledi with Robert's wild poetry notions she wouldn't listem to sense. Andy was the one would have been the match for her. I always thought so in those days, same as your James did ; and I know she liked Andy. Then 'long comes Robert with his book-learnin' andi high-fangled talk — and off she goes and marries him. Mrs. Mayo — I've often thought since it might have been better the other way. But Ruth and Robbie seem happy enough together. Mrs. Atkins — At any rate it was God's work — and His will be done. [The two women sit in silence for a moment. Ruth enters from the kitchen, carry-' ing in her arms her two year old daughter, Mary, a 'pretty hut sickly and aenemic looking child with a tear-stained face. Ruth has aged appreciably. Her face has lost its youth and freshness. There is a trace in her expression of something hard and spiteful. She sits in the rocker in front of the table and sighsi wearily. She wears a gingham dress with a soiled apron tied around her waist. \ Ruth — Land sakes, if this isn't a scorcher! Thai kitchen's like a furnace. Phew! [She pushes thA damp hair hack from her forehead.] BEYOND THE HORIZON 73 Mrs. Mayo — Why didn't you call me to help with the dishes? Ruth — [Shortlij.] No. The heat in there'd kill you. Mary — [Sees the doll under the table and struggles on her mother's lap.] Mary wants Dolly, Mama! Give Mary Dolly ! Ruth — [Pulling her back.] It's time for your nap. You can't play with Dolly now. Mary — [Commencing to cry whiningly.] Mary wants Dolly ! Mrs. Atkins — [Irritably.] Can't you keep that child still? Her racket's enough to split a body's ears. Put her down and let her play with the doll if it'll quiet her. Ruth — [Lifting Mary to the floor.] There! I hope you'll be satisfied and keep still. You're only to play for a minute, remember. Then you've got to take your nap. [Mary sits down on the floor before the table and plays with the doll in silence. Ruth glances at the place set on the table.] It's a wonder Rob wouldn't try to get to meals on time once in a while. Does he think I've nothing to do on a hot day like this but stand in that kitchen washing dishes ? Mrs. Mayo — [Dully.] Something must have gone wrong again. Ruth — [Wearily.] I s'pose so. Something's al- .ways going wrong these days, it looks like. Mrs. Atkins — [Snappily.] It wouldn't if you pos- sessed a bit of spunk. The idea of you permittin' 74. BEYOND THE HORIZON him to come in to meals at all hours — and you doin' the work ! You ought to force him to have more con- sideration. I never heard of such a thin'. You mind my words and let him go to the kitchen and get his own once in a while, and see if he don't toe the mark. You're too easy goin', that's the trouble. Ruth — Do stop your nagging at me, Ma! I'm sick of hearing you. I'll do as I please about it ; and thank you for not interfering. [She wipes her moist forehead — wearily.] Phew! It's too hot to argue. Let's talk of something pleasant. [Curiously.] Didn't I hear you speaking about Andy a while ago.** Mrs. Mayo — We were wondering when he'd get home. Ruth — [Brightening.] Rob saj's any day now he's liable to drop in and surprise us — him and the Cap- tain. I wonder if he's changed much — what he'll be like. It'll certainly look natural to see him around the farm again. Mrs. Atkins — Let's hope the farm'll look more natural, too, when he's had a hand at it. The way thin's are now! Ruth — [Irritably.] Will you stop harping on that. Ma.'' We all know things aren't as they might be. What's the good of your complaining all the time ? Mrs. Atkins — There, Kate Mayo! Ain't that just what I told you.'' I can't say a word of advice to my own daughter even, she's that stubborn and self- willed. BEYOND THE HORIZON 75 Ruth — [Putting her hands over her ears — in ex- asperation.] For goodness sakes, Ma! Mrs. Mayo — [Dully.] Never mind. Andy '11 fix everything when he comes. Ruth — [Hopefully.] Oh, yes, I know he will. He always did know just the right thing ought to be done. [With weary vexation.] It's a shame for him to come home and have to start in with things in such a topsy-turvy. Mrs. Mayo — Andy'll manage. Ruth — [Sighing.] I s'pose it isn't Rob's fault things go wrong with him. Mrs. Atkins — [Scornfully.] Hump! [She fans herself nervously.] Land o' Groshen, but it's bakin' in here ! Let's go out in under the trees in back where there's a breath of fresh air. Come, Kate. [Mrs. Mayo gets up obediently and starts to wheel the in- valid's chair toward the screen door.] You better come too, Ruth. It'll do you good. Learn him a lesson and let him get his own dinner. Don't be such a fool. Ruth — [Going and holding the screen door open for them — listlessly.] He wouldn't mind. He tells me never to wait — but he wouldn't know where to find anything. Mrs. Atkins — Let him go hungry then — and serve him right. Ruth — He wouldn't mind that, either. He doesn't eat much. But I can't go anyway. I've got to put baby to bed. 76 BEYOND THE HORIZON Mrs. Atkins — Let's go, Kate. I'm boilin' in here. [Mrs. Mayo wheels her out and off left. Ruth comes back and sits down in her chair.l Ruth — [Mechanicolli^.'} Come and let me take off your shoes and stockings, Mary, that's a good girl. You've got to take your nap now. [The child con- tinues to play as if she hadn't heard, absorbed in her doll. An eager expression comes over Ruth's tired face. She glances toward the door furtively — then gets up and goes to the desk. Her movements indi- cate a guilty fear of discovery. She takes a letter from a pigeon hole and retreats swiftly to her chair with it. She opens the envelope and reads the letter with great interest, a flush of excitement coming to her cheeks. Robert walks up the path and opens the screen door quietly and comes into the room. He, too, has aged. His shoulders are stooped as if under too great a burden. His eyes are dull and lifeless, his face burned by the sun and unshaven for days. Streaks of sweat have smudged the layer of dust on his cheeks. His lips drawn down at the corners, give him a hopeless, resigned expression. The three years have accentuated the weakness of his mouth and chin. He is dressed in overalls, laced boots, and a flannel shirt open at the neck.^ Robert — [Throwing his hat over on the sofa — with a great sigh of exhaustion.] Phew! The sun's hot today! [Ruth is startled. At first she makes an instinctive motion as if to hide the letter in her bosom. She immediately thinks better of this and sits with the I BEYOND THE HORIZON 77 letter in her hands looking at him with defiant eyes. He bends down and kisses her.] Ruth — [Feeling of her cheek — irritably.] Why don't you shave? You look awful. Robert — [Indifferently.] I forgot — and it's too much trouble this weather, Mary — [Throwing aside her doll, runs to him with a happy cry.] Dada ! Dada ! Robert — [Swinging her up above his head — lov- *^g^^-^ -^^^ how's this little girl of mine this hot day, eh? Mary — [Screeching happily.] Dada! Dada! Ruth — [In annoyance.] Don't do that to her! You know it's time for her nap and you'll get her all waked up ; then I'll be the one that'll have to sit beside her till she falls asleep. Robert — [Sitting down in the chair on the left of table and cuddling Mary on his lap.] You needn't bother. I'll put her to bed. Ruth — [Shortly.] You've got to get back to your work, I s'pose. Robert — [With a sigh.] Yes, I was forgetting. [He glances at the open letter on Ruth's lap.] Reading Andy's letter again? I should think you'd know it by heart by this time. Ruth — [Coloring as if she'd been accused of some- thing — defiantly.] I've got a right to read it, haven't I? He says it's meant for all of us. Robert — [With a trace of irritation.] Right? Don't be so silly. There's no question of right. I 78 BEYOND THE HORIZON was only saying that you must know all that's in it after so many readings. Ruth — Well, I don't. [She puts the letter on the table and gets wearily to her feet.] I s'pose you'll be wanting your dinner now. Robert — [Listlessly.] I don't care. I'm not hungry. It's almost too hot to eat. Ruth — And here I been keeping it hot for you ! Robert — [Irritably.] Oh, all right then. Bring it in and I'll try to eat. Ruth — I've got to get her to bed first. [She goes to lift Mary off his lap.] Come, dear. It's after time and you can hardly keep your eyes open now. Mary — [Cryifig.] No, no, I don't wanter sleep! [Appealing to her father.] Dada! No! Ruth — [Accusiyigly to^oB:EK'T.] There! Now see what you've done ! I told you not to Robert — [Shortly.] Let her alone, then. She's all right where she is. She'll fall asleep on my lapj in a minute if you'll stop bothering her. Ruth — [Hotly.] She'll not do any such thing! She's got to learn to mind me, that she has ! [Shaking her finger at Mary.] You naughty child! Will you come with Mama when she tells you for your own 'good ? Mary — [Clinging to her father.] No, Dada! Ruth — [Losing her temper.] A good spanking's what you need, my young lady — and you'll get one from me if you don't mind better, d'you hear.'' [Mary starts to whimper f right enedly.] I •: BEYOND THE HORIZON 79 Robert — [With sudden anger.] Leave her alone! How often have I told you not to threaten her with whipping? It's barbarous, and I won't have it. That's got to be understood. [Soothing the wailing Mary.] There! There, little girl! Baby mustn't cry. Dada won't like you if you do. Dada'll hold you and you must promise to go to sleep like a good little girl. Will you when Dada asks you? Mary — [Cuddling up to him.] Yes, Dada. Ruth — [Looking at them, her pale face set and drawn.] I won't be ordered by you! She's my child as much as yours. A fine one you are to be telling 'folks how to do things, you [She bites her lips. Husband and wife look into each other^s eyes with something akin to hatred in their expressions ; then Ruth turns away with a shrug of affected indiffer- ence.] All right, take care of her then, if you think it's so easy. You'll be whipping her yourself inside of a week. [She walks away into the kitchen.] Robert — [Smoothing Mary's hair — tenderly.] We'll show Mama you're a good little girl, won't we? Mary — [Crooning drowsily.] Dada, Dada. Robert — Let's see: Does your mother take off your shoes and stockings before your nap? Mary — [Nodding with half -shut eyes.] Yes, Dada. Robert — [Taking off her shoes and stockings.] We'll show Mama we know how to do those things, won't we? There's one old shoe off — and there's the other old shoe — and here's one old stocking — and there's the other old stocking. There we are, all nice 80 BEYOND THE HORIZON and cool and comfy. [He bends down and kisses her.] And now will you promise to go right to sleep if Dada takes you to bed? [Mary nods sleepily.] That's the good little girl. [He gathers her up in his arms carefully and carries her into the bedroom. His voice can be heard faintly as he lulls the child to sleep. Ruth comes out of the kitchen and gets the plate from the table. She hears the voice from thd room and tiptoes to the door to look in. Then she starts for the kitchen but stands for a moment think- ing, a look of ill-concealed jealousy on her face. At a noise from inside she hurriedly disappears into the kitchen. A moment later Robert reenters. He comes forward and picks up the shoes and stockings which he shoves carelessly under the table. Then, seeing no one about, he goes to the sideboard and selects a book. Coming back to his chair, he sits down and immedi- ately becomes absorbed in reading. Ruth returns from the kitchen bringing his plate heaped with food, and a cup of tea. She sets those before him and sits down in her former place. Robert continues to read, oblivious to the food on the table.] Ruth — [After watching him irritably for a mo- ment.] For heaven's sakes, put down that old book! Don't you see your dinner's getting cold? Robert — [Closing his book.] Excuse me, Ruth. I didn't notice. [He picks up his knife and fork and begins to eat gingerly, without appetite.] Ruth — I should think you might have some feeling for me, Rob, and not always be late for meals. If you BEYOND THE HORIZON 81 ^thiiik it's fun sweltering in that oven of a kitchen to keep things warm for you, A'ou're mistaken. Robert — I'm sorry, Ruth, really I am. Ruth — That's what you always say ; but you keep coming late just the same. Robert — I know; and I can't seem to help it. Something crops up every day to delay me. I mean to be here on time. Ruth — [With a sigh.] Mean-tos don't count. Robert — [With a conciliating smile.] Then pun- ish me, Ruth. Let the food get cold and don't bother about me. Just set it to one side. I won't mind. Ruth — I'd have to wait just the same to wash up after you. Robert — But I can wash up Ruth — A nice mess there'd be then ! Robert — [With an attempt at lightness.] The food is lucky to be able to get cold this weather. [As Ruth doesn't answer or smile he opens his book and resumes his reading, forcing himself to take a mouthful of food every now and then. Ruth stares at him in annoyance.] Ruth — And besides, you've got 3-our own work that's got to be done. Robert — [Absent-mindedly, without taking his eyes from the book.] Yes, of course. Ruth — [Spitefully.] Work you'll never get done by reading books all the time. Robert — [Shutting the book with a snap.] Why do you persist in nagging at me for getting pleasure 82 BEYOND THE HORIZON out of reading? Is it because [He checks him- self abruptly.] Ruth — [Coloring.] Because I'm too stupid to understand them, I s'pose you were going to say. Robert — [Shame-f acedly .] No — no. [In exas- peration.] Oh, Ruth, why do you want to pick quar- rels hke this? Why do you goad me into saying things I don't mean? Haven't I got my share of troubles trying to work this cursed farm without your adding to them? You know how hard I've tried to keep things going in spite of bad luck Ruth — [Scornfully.] Bad luck! Robert — And my own very apparent unfitness for the job, I was going to add; but you can't deny there's been bad luck to it, too. You know how un- suited I am to the work and how I hate it; and I've managed to fight along somehow. Why don't you take things into consideration? Why can't we pull together? We used to. I know it's hard on you also. Then why can't we help each other instead of hinder- ing? That's the only way we can make life bearable for each other. Ruth — [Sullenly.] I do the best I know how. Robert — [Gets up and puts his hand on, her shoulder.] I know you do. But let's both of us try to do better. We can both improve. Say a word of encouragement once in a while when things go wrong, even if it is my fault. You know the odds I've been up against since Pa died. I'm not a farmer. I've never claimed to be one. But there's nothing else BEYOND THE HORIZON 83 I can do under the circumstances, and I've got to pull tilings through somehow. With your help, I can do it. With you against me [He shrugs his shoulders. There is a pause. Then he bends down and kisses her hair — with an attempt at cheerfulness.] So you ''promise that; and I'll promise to be here when the clock strikes — and anything else you tell me to. Is it a bargain.'* Ruth — [Dullp.] I s'pose so. Robert — The reason I was late today — it's more bad news, so be prepared. Ruth — [As if this was only what she expected.] Oh! [They are interrupted hy the sound of a loud knock at the kitchen door.] There's someone at the kitchen door. [She hurries out. A moment later she reappears.] It's Ben. He says he wants to see you. Robert — [Frowning.] What's the trouble now, I wonder? [In a loud voice.] Come on in here, Ben. [Ben slouches in from the kitchen. He is a hulking, awkward young fellow with a heavy, stupid face and shifty, cunning eyes. He is dressed in overalls, hoots, etc., and wears a broad-brimmed hat of coarse straw pushed back on his head.] Well, Ben, what's the matter ? Ben — [DrawUngly.] The mowin' machine's bust. Robert — Why, that can't be. The man fixed it only last week. Ben — It's bust just the same. Robert — And can't you fix it? 84 BEYOND THE HORIZON I Ben — No. Don't know what's the matter with the goll-darned thing. 'Twon't work, anyhow. Robert — [Getting up and going for his hat.] Wait a minute and I'll go look it over. There can't be much the matter with it. Ben — [Impudeiitli/.] Don't make no diff'rence t'me whether there be or not. I'm quittin'. Robert — [Anxiousli/.Ji You're quitting? You don't mean you're throwing up your job here? Ben — That's what! My month's up today and I want what's owin' t'me. Robert — But why are you quitting now, Ben, when you know I've so much work on hand? I'll have a hard time getting another man at such short notice. Ben — That's for you to figger. I'm quittin'. Robert — But what's your reason? You haven't any complaint to make about the way you've been treated, have you? Ben — No. 'Tain't that. [Shaking his finger.] Look-a-here. I'm sick o' bein' made fun at, that's what; an' I got a job up to Timms' place; an' I'm quittin' here. Robert — Being made fun of? I don't understand you. Who's making fun of you? Ben — They all do. When I drive down with the milk in the mornin' they all laughs and jokes at me — that boy up to Harris' and the new feller up to Slo- cum's, and Bill Evans down to Meade's, and all the rest on 'em. Robert — That's a queer reason for leaving me BEYOND THE HORIZON 85 flat. Won't they laugh at you just the same when you're working for Timms ? Ben — They wouldn't dare to. Timms is the best farm hereabouts. They was laughin' at me for workin' for you, that's what ! " How're things up to the Mayo place?" they hollers every momin'. "What's Robert doin' now — pasturin' the cattle in the corn- lot.'' Is he seasonin' his hay with rain this year, same as last .'' " they shouts. " Or is he inventin' some 'lectrical milkin' engine to fool them dry cows o' his into givin' hard cider.? " [Very much ruffled.] That's like they talks ; and I ain't goin' to put up with it no longer. Everyone's alwa^^s knowd me as a first-class hand hereabouts, and I ain't wantin' 'em to get no different notion. So I'm quittin' you. And I wants what's comin' to me. Robert — [Coldly.] Oh, if that's the case, you can go to the devil. Ben — This farm'd take me there quick 'nuff if I was fool 'nuff to stay. Robert — [Angrily.] None of 3'our damned cheek ! You'll get your money tomorrow when I get back from town — not before! Ben — [Turning to doorway to kitchen.] That suits me. [As he goes out he speaks back over his shoulder.] And see that I do get it, or there'll be trouble. [He disappears and the slamming of the kitchen door is heard.] Robert — [As Ruth comes from where she has been standing by the doorway and sits down dejectedly I 86 BEYOND THE HORIZON in her old place. ] The stupid damn fool ! And now what about the haying? That's an example of what I'm up against. No one can say I'm responsible for that. Ruth — Yes you are! He wouldn't dare act that way with anyone else. They do like they please with you, because you don't know how to treat 'em. They think 3'ou're easy — and you are ! Robert — [Indignantly.^ I suppose I ought to be a slave driver like the rest of the farmers — stand right beside them all day watching every move they make, and work them to their last ounce of strength .? Well, I can't do it, and I won't do it ! Ruth — It's better to do that than have to ask your Ma to sign a mortgage on the place. Robert — [Distractedly.^ Oh, damn the place! [He walks to the window on left and stands looking out.^ Ruth — [After a pause, with a glance at Andrew's letter on the tahle.^ It's lucky Andy's coming back. Robert — [Coming back and sitting down.] Yes, Andy'll see the right thing to do in a jiffy. He has the knack of it ; and he ought to be hdme any time now. The Sundays overdue. Must have met with head winds all the way across. Ruth — [Anxiously.] You don't think — anything's happened to the boat.'' Robert — Trust Uncle Dick to bring her through all right ! He's too good a sailor to be caught nap- ping. Besies we'll never know the ship's here till BEYOND THE HORIZON 87 Andy steps in the door. He'll want to surprise us. [With an affectionate smile.] I wonder if the old chump's changed much? He doesn't seem to from his letters, does he? Still the same practical hard- head. [Shaking his head.] But just the same I oubt if he'll want to settle down to a hum-drum farm ife, after all he's been through. Ruth — [Resentfully.] Andy's not like you. He ikes the farm. Robert — [Immersed in his own thoughts — eiithnr siastically.] Gad, the things he's seen and experi- enced ! Think of the places he's been ! Hong-Kong, Yokohoma, Batavia, Singapore, Bangkok, Rangoon, Bombay — all the marvelous East! And Honolulu, Sydney, Buenos Aires ! All the wonderful far places I used to dream about ! God, how I envy him ! What a trip ! [He springs to his feet and instinctively goes to the window and stares out at the horizon.^ Ruth — [Bitterly.] I s'pose you're sorry now you didn't go? Robert — [Too occupied with his own thoughts to hear her — vindictively.] Oh, those cursed hills out there that I used to think promised me so much ! How I've grown to hate the sight of them! They're like the walls of a narrow prison yard shutting me in from all the freedom and wonder of life! [He turns back to the room with a gesture of loathing.] Sometimes I think if it wasn't for you, Ruth, and — [his voice softening] — little Mary, I'd chuck everything up and walk down the road with just one desire in my heart — 88 BEYOND THE HORIZON I to put the whole rim of the world between me and those hills, and be able to breathe freelj once mor [He shiks dozen into his choir and smiles tcifh hitti, self-scorn.] There I go dreaming again — my old fool dreams. Ruth — [7n a low, repressed voice — her eyes smoldering.] You're not the only one! Robert — [Bnried in his own thoughts — bitterly.] And And^', who's had the chance — what has he got out of it? His letters read like the diary of a — of a farmer! " We're in Singapore now. It's a dirty hole of a place and hotter than hell. Two of the crew are down with fever and we're short-handed on t work. I'll be damn glad when we sail again, althou^ ■ tacking back and forth in these blistering; seas is a rotten job too!" [Scornfully.] That's about the way he summed up his impressions of the East. Every port they touched at he found the same silly fault with. God ! The onl^'^ place he appeared to like was Buenos Aires — and that only because he saw the busi- ness opportunities in a booming country like Argen- tine. Ruth — [Her repressed voice trembling.] You needn't make fun of Andy. Robert — Perhaps I am too hard on him; but when I think — but what's the use? You know I wasn't making fun of Andy personall}'. No one loves him better than I do, the old chump ! But his attitude toward things is — is rank, in my estimation. Ruth — [Her eyes fashing — bit^sting into vncon- BEYOND THE HORIZON 89 troUahle rage. ] You was too making fun of liim ! And I ain't going to stand for it ! You ought to be ashamed of yourself! A fine one ^oti be! [Robert stares at her in amazement. She continues furiously.] A fine one to talk about anyone else — after the way you've ruined everything with your lazy loafing! — and the stupid wa}' you do things ! Robert — [Angrily.] Stop that kind of talk, do you hear? Ruth — You findin' fault — with your own brother who's ten times the man you ever was or ever will be — a thing like you to be talking. You're jealous, that's what! Jealous because he's made a man of himself, while you're nothing but a — but a [She stutters incoherently, overcome by rage.] Robert — Ruth! Ruth! Don't you dare ! You'll be sorry for talking like that. Ruth — I won't ! I won't never be sorry ! I'm only saying what I've been thinking for years. » Robert — [Aghast.] Ruth! You can't mean that ! Ruth — ^Miat do you think — living with a man like you — having to suffer all the time because you've never been man enough to work and do things like other people. But no ! You never own up to that. You think you're so much better than other folks, with your college education, where you never learned a thing, and always reading your stupid books instead of working. I s'pose you think I ought to be proud to be your wife — a poor, ignorant thing like me! [Fiercely.] But I'm not. I hate it! I hate the sight 90 BEYOND THE HORIZON of you! Oh, if I'd only known! If I hadn't been such a fool to listen to your cheap, silly, poetry talk that you learned out of books ! If I could have seen how you were in your true self — like you are now — I'd have killed myself before I'd have married you! I was sorry for it before we'd been together a month. . I knew what 3'OU were really like — when it was too late. Robert — [His voice raised loudly.] And now — I'm finding out what you're really like — what a — a creature I've been living with. [With a harsh laugh.] God! It wasn't that I haven't guessed how mean and small you are — but I've kept on telling my- self that I must be wrong — like a fool ! — like a damned fool ! Ruth — You were saying you'd go out on the road if it wasn't for mc. Well, you can go, and the sooner the better! I don't care! I'll be glad to get rid of you! The farm'll be better off too. There's been a curse on it ever since you took hold. So go ! Go and be a tramp like you've always wanted. It's all you're good for. I can get along without you, don't you worry. I'll get some peace. [Exulting ficrcelt/.] And Andy's coming back, don't forget that! He'll attend to things like they should be. He'll show what a man can do! I don't need you. Andy's coming ! Robert — [They are both standing. Robert grabs her by the shoulders and glares into her eyes.] What do you mean.? [He shakes her violently.] What are BEYOND THE HORIZON 91 you thinking of? What's in your evil mind, you — you [His voice is a harsh shout.] Ruth — [In a defiant scream.] Yes I do mean it! I'd say it if you was to kill mo! I do love Andy. I do! I do! I always loved him. [Exvltantli/.] And he loves me! He loves me! I know he does. He al- wa3's did ! And you know he did, too ! So go ! Go if you want to ! Robert — [Throwing her away from him. She staggers back against the table — thickly.] You — you slut ! [He stands glaring at her as she leans back, supporting herself by the table, gasping for breath. A loud frightened whimper sounds from the awakened child in the bedroomi. It continues. The man and woman stand looking at one another in horror, the extent of their terrible quarrel suddenly brought home to them. A pause. The noise of a horse and carriage comes from the road before the house. The two, sud- denly struck by the same premonition, listen to it breathlessly, as to a sound heard in a dream. It stops. They hear Andy's voice from the road shouting a long hail — "Ahoy there! "] Ruth — [With a strangled cry of joy.] Andy! Andy ! [She rushes and grabs the knob of the screen s door, about to fling it open.] Robert — [In a voice of command that forces obedi- ence.] Stop ! [He goes to the door and gently pushes the trembling Ruth away fromi it. The child's cry- ing rises to a louder pitch.] I'll meet Andy. You better go in to Mar}", Ruth. [She looks at him de- 92 BEYOND THE HORIZON fiantly for a moment, hut there is something in Ms eyes that makes her turn and walk slowly into the bedroom^. ] Andy's Voice — [In a louder shout. ^ Ahoy there, Rob! Robert — {In an answering shout of forced cheerio ness.] Hello, Andy! [He opens the door and walks out as [The Citrtain Falls] ACT TWO SCENE TWO Scene — The top of a hill on the farm. It is about eleven o'clock the next morning. The day is hot and cloudless. In the distance the sea can be seen. The top of the hill slopes downward slightly toward the left. A big boulder stands in the center toward the rear. Further right, a large oak tree. The faint trace of a path leading up- ward to it from the left foreground can be de- tected through the bleached, sun-scorched grass. Robert is discovered sitting on the boulder, his chin resting on his hands, staring out toward tJie horizon seaward. His face is pale and hag- gard, his expression one of utter despondency. Mary is sitting on the grass near him in the shade, playing with her doll, singing happily to herself. Presently she casts a curious glance at her father, and, propping her doll up against the tree, comes over and clambers to his side. Mary — [Pulling at his hand — solicitously.] Is Dada sick? 93 94. BEYOND THE HORIZON Robert — [Looking at her with a forced smile.] No, dear. Why? Mary — Then why don't he play with Mary? Robert — [Gently.] No, dear, not today. Dada doesn't feel like playing today. Mary — [Protestingly.] Yes, please, Dada! Robert — No, dear. Dada does feel sick — a little. He's got a bad headache. Mary — Let Mary see. [He bends his head. She pats his hair.] Bad head. Robert — [Kissing her — with a smile.] There! It's better now, dear, thank you. [She cuddles up close against himi There is a pause during whicU each of them looks out seaward.] Mary — [Pointing toward the sea.] Is that all wa-wa, Dada? Robert — Yes, dear. Mary — [Amazed by the magnitude of this concep- tion.] Oh-oh! [She points to the horizon.] And it all stops there, over farver? Robert — No, it doesn't stop. That line you see is called the horizon. It's where the sea and sky meet. Just beyond that is where the good fairies live. [Checking himself — with a harsh laugh.] But you mustn't ever believe in fairies. It's bad luck. And besides, there aren't any good fairies. [Mary looks up into his face with a puzzled eiXpression.] Mary — Then if fairies don't live there, what lives there ? Robert — [Bitterly.] God knows ! Mocking devils, BEYOND THE HORIZON 95 I've. found them. [Mary frowns in puzzlement, turn- ing this over in lier mind. There is a pause. Finally Robert turns to her tenderly.^ Would you miss Dada very much if he went away ? Mary — Far — far away? Robert — Yes. Far, far away. Mary — And INIary wouldn't see him, never? Robert — No ; but Mary'd forget him very soon, I'm sure. Mary — [Tearfully.] No! No! Dada mustn't go 'way. No, Dada, no ! Robert — Don't you like Uncle Andy — the man that came yesterday — not the old man with the white moustache — the other? Mary — But Dada mustn't go 'wa3\ Mary loves Dada. Robert — [With -fierce determination.] He won't go away, baby. He was only joking. He couldn't leave his little Mary. [He presses the child in his arms.] Mary — [With an exclamation of pain.] Oh! Dada hurts ! Robert — I'm sorry, little girl. [He lifts her down to the grass.] Go play with Doll}', that's a good girl; and be careful to keep in the shade. [She re- luctantly leaves him and taJces up her doll again. A moment later she points down the hill to the left.] Mary — Here comes mans, Dada. Robert — [Looking that way.] It's your Uncle Andy. 96 BEYOND THE HORIZON Mary — Will he play wiv mc, Dada? Robert — Not now, dear. You nmstn't bother him. After a while he will, maybe. [A moment later Andrew comes up from the left, whistling cheerfully. He has changed hut little in appearance, except for the fact that his face has been deeply bronzed by his years in the tropics; but there is a decided change w his manner. The old easy-going good-nature seems to have been partly lost in a breezy, business-like brisk- ness of voice and gesture. There is an authoritative note in his speech as though he were accustomed to give orders and have them obeyed as a matter of course. He is dressed in the simple blue uniform and cap of a merchant ship's officer.] AxDREw — Here you are, eh.'* Robert — Hello, Andy. Andrew — [Going over to ]\Iary.] And who's this young lady I find you all alone with, eh? Who's this pretty young lady.'^ [He tickles the laughing, squirming jMary, then lifts her up at arm's length over his head.] Upsy — daisy! [He sets her down on the ground again.] And there you are! [He walks over and sits down on the boulder beside Robert who moves to one side to make room for him.] Ruth told me I'd probably find you up top-side here; but I'd have guessed it, anyway. [He digs his brother in tho riiis affectionately.] Still up to your old tricks, you old beggar! I can remember how you used to come up here to mope and dream in the old days. Robert — [With a smile.] I come up here now be- BEYOND THE IIOKIZON 9T I cause it's the coolest place on the farm. I've given I up dreaming. Andrew — [Grinning.] I don't believe it. You can't have changed that much. Robert — [Wearili/.] One gets tired of dreaming — when they never come true. Andrew — [Scrutinizing his brother's face.] You've changed in looks all right. You look all done up, as if you'd been working too hard. Better let up on yourself for a while. Robert — Oh, I'm all right ! Andrew — Take a fool's advice and go it easy. You remember — your old trouble. You wouldn't want that coming back on you, eh? It pays to keep top-notch in your case. Robert — [Betraying annoyance.] Oh, that's all a thing of the past, Andy. Forget it ! Andrew — Well — a word to the wise does no harm ? Don't be touchy about it. [Slapping his brother on the back.] You know I mean well, old man, even if I do put m}' foot in it. Robert — Of course, Andy. I'm not touchj^ about it. I don't want you to worry about dead things, that's all. I've a headache today, and I expect I do look done up. Andrew — Mum's the word, then ! [After a pause — with boyish enthusiasm.] Say, it sure brings back old times to be up here with you having a chin all by our lonesomes again. I feel great being back home. 98 BEYOND THE HORIZON Robert — It's great for us to have you back. Andrew — [After a pause — meaningly.] I've been looking over the old place with Ruth. Things don't seem to be Robert — [His face flushing — interrupts his brother shortly.] Never mind the damn farm! There's nothing about it we don't both know by heart. Let's talk about something interesting. This is the first chance I've had to have a word with you alone. To the devil with the farm for the present. They think of nothing else at home. Tell me about your trip. That's what I've been anxious to hear about. Andrew — [With a quick glance of concern at Robert.] I suppose you do get an overdose of the farm at home. [Indignantly.] Say, I never realized that Ruth's mother was such an old rip 'till she talked to me this morning. [With a grin.] Phew! I pity you, Rob, when she gets on her ear ! Robert — She is — difficult sometimes ; but one must make allowances. [Again changing the subject abruptly.] But this isn't telling me about the trip. Andrew — Why, I thought I told you everything in my letters. Robert — [Smiling.] Your letters were — sketchy, to say the least. Andrew — Oh, I know ^'m no author. You needn't be afraid of hurting my feelings. I'd rather go through a typhoon again than write a letter. Robert — [With eager interest.] Then you were through a typhoon? BEYOND THE HORIZON 99 Andrew — Yes — in the China sea. Had to run be- fore it under bare poles for two days. I thought we were bound down for Davy Jones, sure. Never dreamed waves could get so big or the wind blow so liard. If it hadn't been for Uncle Dick being such a good skipper we'd have gone to the sharks, all of us. As it was we came out minus a main top-mast and had to beat back to Hong-Kong for repairs. But I must ' have written you all this. Robert — You never mentioned it. Andrew — Well, there was so much dirty work get- ting things ship-shape again I must have forgotten about it. Robert — [Looking at Andrew — marvelling.^ II Forget a typhoon? [With a trace of scorn.^ You're a strange combination, Andy. And is what you've told me all you remember about it? Andrew — Oh, I could give you j'^our bellyful of details if I wanted to turn loose on you ; but they're not the kind of things to fit in with your pretty no- tions of life on the ocean wave, I'll give you that straight. Robert- — [Earnestly.] Tell me. I'd like to hear them — honestly ! Andrew — What's the use? They'd make a man want to live in the middle of America without even a river in a hundred miles of him so he'd feersafe. It was rotten, that's what it was ! Talk about work ! I was wishin' the ship'd sink and give me a rest, I was so dog tired toward the finish. We didn't get a warm 100 BEYOND THE HORIZON thing to eat for nearly two weeks. There was enough j China Sea in the galley to float the stove, and the fo' j c's'tle was flooded, too. And you couldn't sleep a wink. No place on the darned old tub stayed still long enough for j-ou to lie on it. And every one was soaked to the skin all the time, with green seas boiling over the deck keeping you busy jumping for the rat- lines to keep from being washed over. Oh, it was all- wool-and-a-yard-wide-Hell, I'll tell you. You ought to have been there. I remember thinking about you at ' the worst of it when j'ou couldn't force a breath out against the wind, and saying to myself : ' This'd cure Rob of them ideas of his about the beautiful sea, if he could see it.' And it would have too, you bet ! [He nods emphatically.] Robert — And you don't see any romance in that.? Andrew — Romance be blowed! It was hell! [As an afterthought.] Oh, I was forgetting ! One of the men was washed overboard — a Norwegian — Ollic we called him. [With a grin of sarcasm.] I suppose that's romance, eh.? Well, it might be for a fish, but not for me, old man ! Robert — [Dryly.] The sea doesn't seem to have impressed you very favorably. Andrew — I should say it didn't ! It's a dog's life. You work like the devil and put up with all kinds of hardships — for what .? For a rotten wage you'd be : ashamed to take on shore. Robert — Then ^^ou're not going to — follow it up.? Andrew — Not me! I'm through! I'll never set BEYOND THE HORIZON 101 foot on a ship again if I can help it — except to carry me some place I can't get to by train. No. I've had enough. Dry land is the only place for me. RoBEKT — But you studied to become an officer ! Andrew — Had to do something or I'd gone mad. The days were like years. Nothing to look at but sea and sky. No place to go. A regular prison. [He laughs.] And as for the East you used to rave about — well, you ought to see it, and smell it! And the Chinks and Japs and Hindus and the rest of them — you can have them ! One walk down one of their filthy ; narrow streets with the tropic sun beating on it would ! sicken you for life with the " wonder and mystery " you used to dream of. I can say one thing for it though — it certainly has the stink market cornered. Robert — [Shrinking' from his brother with a glance of aversion.] So all you found in the East was a stench? Andrew — A stench ! Ten thousand of them ! That and the damned fever! You can have the tropics, old man. I never want to see them again. At that, there's lots of money to be made down there — for a white man. The natives are too lazy to work, that's the only trouble. Robert — But you did like some of the places, judging from your letters — Sj'dney, Buenos Aires Andrew — Yes, Sydney's a good town. [Enthusi- astically.] But Buenos Aires — there's the place for you. Argentine's a country where a fellow has a 102 BEYOND THE HORIZON chance to make good. You're right I hked it. And I'll tell you, Rob, that's right where I'm going just as soon as I've seen you folks a while and can get a ship. I don't intend to pay for my passage now I can gel a berth as second officer, and I'll jump the ship when I get there. I'll need every cent of the wages Uncle's paid me to get a start at something in B. A. Robert — [Staring at Ms brother — slowly.] So you're not going to stay on the farm.'' Andrew — Why sure not! Did you think I was? There wouldn't be any sense. One of us is enough to run this little place. Robert — I suppose it does seem small to you now. Andrew — [Not noticing the sarcasm in Robert's tone.] You've no idea, Rob, what a splendid place Argentine is. I went around Buenos Aires quite a lot and got to know people — English speaking people, of course. The town is full of them. It's foreign capital that's developed the country, you know. I • had a letter from a marine insurance chap that I'd made friends with in Hong-Kong to his brother, who's in the grain business in Buenos Aires. He took quite ' a fancy to me, and what's more important, he offered me a job if I'd come back there. I'd have taken it on the spot, only I couldn't leave Uncle Dick in the lurch, and I'd promised you folks to come home. But I'm going back there very soon, you bet, and then you watch me get on ! [He slaps Robert on the back.] But don't you think it's a big chance, Rob? Robert — It's fine — for 3^ou, Andy. BEYOND THE HORIZON 103 I Andrew — We call this a farm — but you ouglit to 'I hear about the farms down there — ten square miles where we've got an acre. It's a new country where big ,| things are opening up — and I want to get in on ' something big before I die. That job I'm ofFered'll furnish the wedge. I'm no fool when it comes to farm- ing, and I know something about grain. I've been reading up a lot on it, too, lately. [He notices , Robert's absent-mmded expression and laughs.] ' Wake up, you old poetry book worm, you ! I know I my talking about business makes you want to choke me, doesn't it? Robert — [With an embarrassed smile.] No, Andy, I — I just happened to think of something else. j [Fromning.] There've been lots of times lately that ' I've wished I had some of your faculty for business. Andrew — [Soberly.] There's something I want to talk about, Rob, — the farm. You don't mind, do 'iyou? II Robert — No. • Andrew — I walked over it this morning with Ruth — and she told me about things [Evasively.] i — the hard luck you'd had and how things stood at ' present — and about your thinking of raising a mort- gage. Robert — [Bitterly.] It's all true I guess, and probably worse than she told you. I Andrew — I could see the place had run down ; but I you mustn't blame yourself. When luck's against I anyone 10^ BEYOND THE HORIZON Robert — Don't, Andy ! It is my fault — my in- ability. You know it as well as I do. The best I've ever done was to make ends meet, and this year I can't do that without the mortgage. Andrew — [After a pause.] You mustn't raise the mortgage, Rob. I've got over a thousand saved, and 3'ou can have that. Robert — [Firmli/.] No. You need that for your start in Buenos Aires. Andrew — I don't. I can Robert — [Determinedly.] No, Andy! Once and for all, no ! I won't hear of it ! Andrew — [Protest in gly.] You obstinate old son of a gun! [There is a pause.] Well, I'll do the best I can while I'm here. I'll get a real man to superin- tend things for 3-ou — if he can be got. That'll re- lieve you some. If he gets results, you can afford to pay him. Robert — Oh, everything'U be on a sound footing after harvest. Don't worry about it. Andrew — [Doubtfully.] Maybe. The prospects don't look so bad, Robert — And then I can pay the mortgage off again. It's just to tide over. Andrew — [After a pause.] I wish you'd let me help, Rob. Robert — [With a tone of finality.] No. Please don't suggest it any more. My mind's made up on that point. Andrew — [Slapping his brother on the back — BEYOND THE HORIZON 105 with forced joviality.] Well, anyway, you've got to promise to let me step in when I've made my pile ; and I'll make it down there, I'm certain ; and it won't take me long, either. Robert — I've no doubt you will with your deter- mination. Andrew — I'll be able to pay off all the mortgages you can raise! Still, a mortgage isn't such a bad thing at that — it makes a place heaps easier to sell — and you may want to cut loose from this farm some day — come down and join me in Buenos Aires, that's the ticket, Robert — If I had only myself to consider Andrew — Yes, I suppose they wouldn't want to come. [After a pau^e.] It's too bad Pa couldn't have lived to see things through. [With feeling.] It cut me up a lot — hearing he was dead. Tell me about it. You didn't say much in your letter. Robert — [Evasively.] He's at peace, Andy. It'll onl}' make you feel bad to talk of it. Andrew — He never — softened up, did he — about me, I mean? Robert — He never understood, that's a kinder way of putting it. He does now. Andrew — [After a pause.] \''ou've forgotten all about what — caused me to go, haven't you Rob? [Robert nods hut keeps his face averted.] I was a slushier damn fool in those days than you were. But it was an act of Providence I did go. It opened my eyes to how I'd been fooling myself. Why, I'd for- 106 BEYOND THE HORIZON gotten all about — that — before I'd been at sea six months. Robert — [Turns and looks into Andrew's eyes searchingly.] You're speaking of — Ruth? Andrew — [Confused.^ Yes. I didn't want you to get false notions in your head, or I wouldn't say any- thing. [Looking Robert squarely in the eyes.] I'm telling you the truth when I say I'd forgotten long ago. It don't sound well for me, getting over things so easy, but I guess it never really amounted to more than a kid idea I was letting rule me. I'm certain now I never was in love — I was getting fun out of thinking I was — and being a hero to myself. [He heaves a great sigh of relief.] There! Gosh, I'm glad that's off my chest. I've been feeling sort of awkward ever since I've been home, thinking of what you two might think. [A trace of appeal in his voice.] You've got it all straight now, haven't you, Rob.? Robert — [In a low voice.] Yes, Andy. Andrew — And I'll tell Ruth, too, if I can get up the nerve. She must feel kind of funny having me round — after what used to be — and not knowing how I feel about it. Robert — [Slowly.] Perhaps — for her sake — you'd better not tell her. Andrew — For her sakcf* Oh, you mean she wouldn't want to be reminded of my foolishness.'' Still, I think it'd be worse if Robert — [Breaking out — in an agonized voice.] BEYOND THE HORIZON 107 Do as you please, Andy ; but for God's sake, let's not talk about it! [There is a pause. Andrew stares at Robert in hurt stupefaction. Robert continues af- ter a moment in a voice which he vainly attempts to keep calm.] Excuse me, Andy. This rotten head- ache has my nerves shot to pieces. Andrew — [Alumhling.] It's all right, Rob — long as you're not sore at mc. Robert — Where did Uncle Dick disappear to this morning.'* Andrew — He went down to the port to see to things on the Sunda. He said he didn't know exactly when he'd be back. I'll have to go down and tend to the ship when he comes. That's why I dressed up in these togs. Mary — [Pointing down the hill to the left.] See Dada ! Mama ! Mama ! [She jumps to her feet and starts to run down the path.] Andrew — [Standing and looking down.] Yes, here comes Ruth. Must be looking for you, I guess. [Jumping forward and stopping Mary.] Hey up! You mustn't run down hill like that, little girl. You'll take a bad fall, don't you know it? Robert — Stay here and wait for your mother, Mary. Mary — [Struggling to her feet.] No! No! Mama ! Dada ! Andrew — Here she is ! [Ruth appears at left. She is dressed in white, shows she has been fixing up. She looks pretty, flushed and full of life.] 108 BEYOND THE HORIZON Mary — [Rimn'in^; to her mother.] Mania ! Rt'th — fA'i.s'.s7'//<,>- her.] Hollo, dojir! [She zcalks toward the roek and addresses Robert eoldly.~\ Jake wants to see you about something. He finished work- ing wliere he was. He's waiting for you at the road. RonKUT — [Getting up — 'icearUy.] I'll go down riglit away. [As he looks at Ruth, noting her ehanged a p pea ranee, his faee darkens with pain.] RiTH — And take Mar}- with you, please. [To Mary.] Go with Dada, that's a good girh Grandma has your dinner most ready for you. Robert — [Shortly.] Come, Mary! Mary — [Taking his hand and daneing happily be- side him.] Dada! Dada! [They go down the hill to the left. Ruth looks after them for tt moment, froicning — then turns to Andy with a smile.] I'm going to sit down. Come on, Andy. It'll be like old times. [She jumps lightly to the top of the roek and sits down.] It's so fine and cool up licrc after the house. Andrew — [Half -sitting on the side of theboulder.] Yes. It's great. Ruth — I've taken a holiday in lionor of your ar- rival — from work in the kitchen. [Laughing ex- citedly.] I feel so free I'd like to have wings and fly over the sea. You're a man. You can't know how awful and stupid it is — cooking and wasliing dishes all the time. Andrew — [Making a wry face.] I can guess. Ruth — Besides, your mother just insisted on get- BEYOND THE HORIZON 109 ting your first dinner to home, she's that happy at havinf^ jou back. You'd think I was planning to poison you the flurried way she shooed me out of the kitchen. Andrew — That's just hkc Ma, bless her! Ruth — She's missed you terrible. We all have. And you can't deny the farm has, after what I showed you and told you when we was looking over the place this morning. Andrew — [ With a frown.] Things are run down, that's a fact ! It's too darn hard on poor old Rob. Ruth — [Scornfully.] It's his own fault. He never takes any interest in things. Andrew — [Reprovingly.] You can't blame him. He wasn't born for it ; but I know he's done his best for your sake and the old folks and the little girl. Ruth — [Indifferently.] Yes, I suppose nc has. \Gaily.] But thank the Lord, all those days are over now. The " hard luck " Rob's always blaming won't last long when you take hold, Andy. All the farm's ever needed was someone with the knack of looking ahead and preparing for what's going to happen. Andrew — Yes, Rob hasn't got that. He's frank to own up to that himself. I'm going to try and hire a good man for him — an experienced farmer — to work the place on a salary and percentage. That'll take it off of Rob's hands, and he needn't be worrying him- self to death any more. He looks all worn out, Ruth. He ought to be careful. Ruth — [Absent-mindedly.] Yes, I s'pose. [Her 110 BEYOND THE HORIZON mind is filled with premonitions by the first part of his statement.] Andrew — It would be a good idea if Rob could pull out of here — get a job in town on a newspaper, or something connected with writing — and this plan of mine'd give him a chance. Ruth — [Vaguely.] He's always wanted to get away. [Suspiciously.] Why do you want to hire a man to oversee things? Seems as if now that you're back it wouldn't be needful. Andrew — Oh, of course I'll attend to everything while I'm here. I mean after I'm gone. Ruth — [As if she couldn't believe her ears.] Gone ! Andrew — Yes. When I leave for the Argentine again. Ruth — [Aghast.] You're going away to sea again ! Andrew — Not to sea, no ; I'm through with the sea for good as a job. I'm going down to Buenos Aires to get in the grain business. Ruth — But — that's way far off — isn't it.? Andrew — [Easily.] Six thousand miles more or less. It's quite a trip. [With enthusiasm.] I've got a peach of a chance down there, Ruth. Ask Rob if I haven't. I've just been telling him all about it. I won't bother you by repeating. Rob can tell you. Ruth — [A flush of anger coming over her face.] And didn't he try to stop you from going? Andrew — [In surprise.] No, of course not. Why? BEYOND THE HORIZON 111 Ruth — [Slowly and vindictiveli/.] That's just like him' — not to. Andrew — [Resentfully.] Rob's too good a chum to try and stop me when he knows I'm set on a thing. I And he could see just as soon's I told him what a good chance it was. You ask him about it. Ruth — [Dazedly.] And you're bound on going.'' Andrew — Sure thing. Oh, I don't mean right off. I'll have to wait for a ship sailing there for quite a while, likely. Anyway, I want to stay to home and visit with you folks a spell before I go. Ruth — [Dumbly.] I s'pose. [With sudden an- guish.] Oh, Andy, you can't go! You can't. Why we've all thought — we've all been hoping and praying you was coming home to stay, to settle down on the farm and see to things. You mustn't go! Think of how your Ma'll take on if you go — and how the f arm'll be ruined if you leave it to Rob to look after. You can see that. Andrew — [Frowning.] Rob hasn't done so bad. When I get a man to direct things the farm'll be safe enough. Ruth — [Insistently.] But your Ma — think of her. Andrew — She's used to me being away. She won't object when she knows it's best for her and all of us for me to go. You ask Rob. In a couple of years down there I'll make my pile, see if I don't ; and then I'll come back and settle down and turn this farm to the crackiest place in the whole state. In the mean- lis BEYOND THE HORIZON I time, I can help yon both from down the [Earnestly.] I tell you, Ruth, I'm going to mak good right from the minute I land, if working hard and a determination to get on can do it; and I knoxo they can ! I'll have money and lots of it before long, and none of you'll have to worry about this pesky little farm any more. [Excitedly — in a rather boast- ful tone.] I tell you, I feel ripe for bigger things than settling down here. The trip did that for me, anywa}'. It showed me the world in a larger proposi- tion than ever I thought it was in the old days. I couldn't be content any more stuck here like a fly in molasses. There ain't enough to do. It all seems trifling, somehow. You ought to be able to under- stand what I feel. Ruth — [Dully.] Yes — I s'pose I ought. Andrew — I felt sure you'd see; and wait till Rob tells you about Ruth — [A dim suspicion forming in her mind — interrupting him.] What did he tell you — about me? Andrew — Tell? About you.? Why, nothing. Ruth — [Staring at hitn intensely.] Are you tell- ing me the truth, Andy Mayo? Didn't he say — I [She stops confusedly.] Andrew — [Surprised.] No, he didn't mention you, I can remember. Why.'' What made you think he did? Ruth — [Wringing her hands.] Oh, I wish I could tell if you're lying or not ! Andrew — [Indignantly.] What're you talking BEYOND THE IIOIIIZOX 113 bout? I didn't used to lie to you, did I? And what n the name of God is there to lie for? Ruth — [Still unconvinced.] Are you sure — will ou swear — it isn't the reason [She lowers her yes and half turns away from him.] The same ason that made you go last time that's driving you way again? 'Cause if it is — I was going to say — ou mustn't go — on that account, [Her voice gink* o a tremulous, tender whisper as she finishes.] Andrew — [Confuted — forces a laugh.] Oh, is that what you're driving at? Well, you needn't worry about that no more [Soberly.] I don't blame you, Ruth, feeling embarrassed having me around again, after the way I played the dumb fool about going away last time. You'll have to put it down to me jast being young and foolish and not re- sponsible for my actions — and forgive me and forget it. Will you? Ruth — [In anguish buries her face in her hands.] I Oh, Andy ! AxDREw — [Misunderstanding.] I know I oughtn't to talk about such foolishness to you. Still I figure it's better to get it out of my system go's we three can be together same's years ago, and not be worried thinking one of us might have the wrong notion. No, don't you fret about me having any such reason for going this time. I'm not a calf any more. Why honest, Ruth, before the ship got to Hong Kong I'd near forgot all that part of it. All I remembered was 114 BEYOND THE HORIZON the awful scrap I'd had with Pa — and I was darned cut up about that. Ruth — Andy ! Please ! Don't ! Andrew — Let me finish now that I've started. It'll help clear things up. I don't want you to think once a fool always a fool, and be upset all the time I'm here on my fool account. I want you to believe I put all that silly nonsense back of me a long time ago— and now — it seems — well — as if you'd always been my sister, that's what, Ruth. Ruth — [At the end of her endurance — laughing' hysterically .\ For God's sake, Andy — won't you please stop talking ! [She again hides her face in her hands, her bowed shoulders trembling.] Andrew — [Ruefully.] Seem's if I put my foot in it whenever I open my mouth today. Rob shut me up with almost them same words when I tried speaking to him about it. Ruth — [Fiercely.] You told him — what you've „j told me? Andrew — [Astounded.] Why sure! Why not.? Ruth — [Shuddering.] Oh, my God! Andrew — [AlarvT^d.] Why? Shouldn't I have? Ruth — [Hysterically.] Oh, I don't care what you do! I don't care! Leave me alone! [Andrew gets up and walks down the hill to the left, embarrassedt hurt, and greatly puzzled by her behavior.] Andrew — [After a pause — pointing down the hill.] Hello! Here they come back — and the Cap- tain's with them. How'd he come to get back so soon, BEYOND THE HORIZON 115 I wonder? That means I've got to hustle down to the port and get on board. Rob's got the baby with him. [He comes hack to the boulder. Ruth keeps her face averted from him.] Gosh, I never saw a father so tied up in a kid as Rob is! He just watches every move she makes. And I don't blame him. You both got a right to feel proud of her. She's surely a little win- ner. [He glances at Ruth to see if this very obvious attempt to get back in her good graces is having any effect.] I can see the likeness to Rob standing out all over her, can't you? But there's no denying she's your young one, either. There's something about her eyes Ruth — [Piteously.] Oh, Andy, I've a headache! I don't want to talk! Leave me alone, won't you please ? Andrew — [Stands staring at her for a moment — then walks away saying in a hurt tone.] Everybody hereabouts seems to be on edge today. I begin to feel as if I'm not wanted around. [He stands near the path, left, kicking at the grass with the toe of his shoe. A moment later Captain Dick Scott enters, followed by Robert carrying Mary. The Captain seems scarcely to have changed at all from the jovial, booming person he was three years before. He wears a uniform similar to Andrew's. He is puffing and breathless from his climb and mops wildly at his per- spiring countenance. Robert casts a quick glance at Andrew, noticing the latter's discomfited look, and then turns his eyes on Ruth who, at their approach^ a t 116 BEYOND THE HORIZON has moved so her hack is toward them, her chin rest ing on her hands as she stares out seaward.] Mary — Mama ! Mama ! [Robert puts her down and she runs to her mother. Ruth turns and grah» her up in her arms with a sudden -fierce tendernesg, quickly turning away again from the others. During the following scene she keeps Mary in her arms.\ Scott — [Wheezily.] Phew! I got great news for you, Andy. Let me get my wind first. Phew ! God A'miglity, mountin' tliis damned hill is worser'n goin' aloft to the skys'l yard in a blow. I got to lay to a while. [He sits down on the grass, mopping his face.] Andrew — I didn't look for you this soon, Uncle. Scott — I didn't figger it, neither ; but I run across a bit o' news down to the Seamen's Home made me 'bout ship and set all sail back here to find you. Andrew — [Eagerly.] Wliat is it, Uncle? Scott — Passin' by the Home I thought I'd drop in an' let 'em know I'd be lackin' a mate next trip count o' your leavin'. Their man in charge o' the shippin' asked after you 'special curious. ' Do you think he'd consider a berth as Second on a steamer, Captain?* he asks. I was goin' to say no when I thinks o' you wantin' to get back down south to the Plate agen ; so I asks him: 'What is she and where's she bound?' ' She's the El Paso, a brand new tramp,' he says, * and she's bound for Buenos Aires.' Andrew — [His eyes lighting up — excitedly.] Gosh, that is luck! When does she sail? BEYOND THE HORIZON 117 Scott — Tomorrow mornin'. I didn't know if you'd want to ship away agcn so quick an' I told him so. ' Tell him I'll hold the berth open for him until late this afternoon,' he says. So I said I'd tell you an' I catches the first car back to town. So there you be, an' you can make your own choice. Andrew — I'd like to take it. There may not be another ship for Buenos Aires with a vacancy in months. [His eyes roving from Robert to Ruth and hack again — uncertainly. \ Still — damn it all — to- morrow morning is soon. I wish she wasn't leaving for a week or so. That'd give me a chance — it seems hard to go right awa}^ again when I've just got home. And yet it's a chance in a thousand {Appealing to Robert.] What do you think, Rob.'* What would you do..'' Robert — [Forcing a sm^le^i He who hesitates, you know. [Frowning.^ It's a piece of good luck thrown in your way — and — f roni what you've told me of your plans — I think you owe it to yourself to jump at it. But don't ask me to decide for you. Ruth — [Turning to look at Andrew — vn a tone of fierce resentment.] Yes go, Andy! [She turns quickly away again. There is a moment of embar- rassed silence.] Andrew — [Thoughtfully.] Yes, I guess I will. It'll be the best thing for all of us in the end, don't you think so, Rob? [Robert nods but remains silent. 1 118 BEYOND THE HORIZON Scott — [Getting to his feet.] Then, that's settled. Andrew — [Now that he has definitely made a de- cision his voice rings with hopeful strength and energy.] Yes, I'll take the berth. The sooner I go the sooner I'll be back, that's a certainty ; and I won't come back with empty hands next time. You bet I won't ! Scott — You ain't got so much time, Andy. To make sure you'd best leave here soon's you kin. You can't put too much trust in them fellers. I got to get right back aboard. You'd best come with me. Andrew — I'll go to the house and repack my bag right away. Robert — [Quietly.] You'll both be here for din- ner, won't you.^* Andrew — [Worriedly.] I don't know. Will there be time ? What time is it now, I wonder ? Robert — [Reproachfully.] Ma's been getting dinner especially for you, Andy. Andrew — [Flushing — shamefacedly.] Hell! And I was forgetting! I'm a damn fool. Of course I'll stay for dinner if I missed every damned ship in the world. [He turns to the Captain — briskly.] Come on, Uncle. Walk down with me to the house and you can tell me more about this berth on the way, I've got to pack before dinner. [He and the Captain start down to the left. Andrew calls back over his shoulder.] You're coming soon, aren't you, Rob? Robert — Yes. I'll be right down. [Andrew and BEYOND THE HORIZON 119 tJie Captain leave. Ruth puts Mary on the ground and hides her face in her hands. Her shoulders shake as if she were sobbing. Robert stares at her with a grim, somber expression. Mary walks backward toward Robert, her wondering eyes fixed on her mother.] Mary — [Her voice vaguely frightened, taking her father's hand.] Dada, Mama's cry in', Dada. Robert — [Bending down and stroking her hair — in a voice he endeavors to keep from being harsh.] No, she isn't, little girl. The sun hurts her eyes, that's all. Aren't you beginning to feel hungry, Mary ? Mary — [Decidedly.] Yes, Dada. Robert — [Meaningly.] It must be your dinner time now. Ruth — [In a muffled voice.] I'm coming, Mary. [She wipes her eyes quickly and, without looking at Robert, comes and takes Mary's hand — in a dead voice.] Come on and I'll get your dinner for you. [She walks out left, her eyes fixed on the ground, the skipping Mary tugging at her hand. Robert waits a moment for them to get ahead and then slowlyi follows as [The Curtain Falls] I BEYOND THE HORIZON ACTIU ACT THREE SCENE ONE BcENE — Same as Act Two, Scene One — The sitting room of the farm hoiise about six o'clock in the morning of a day toward the end of October -five years later. It is not yet daxvn, but as the action progresses the darkness outside the windows gradually fades to grey. The room, seen by the light of the shadeless oil lamp with a smoky chimney which stands on the table, presents an appearance of decay, of dis- solution. The curtains at the windows are torn and dirty and one of them is missing. The closed desk is grey with accumulated dust as if it had not been used in years. Blotches of dampness disfigure the wall paper. Threadbare trails, leading to the kitchen and outer doors, show in the faded carpet. The top of the coverless table is stained with the imprints of hot dishes and spilt food. The rung of one rocker has been clumsily mended with a piece of plain board. A brown coating of rust covers the unblacked stove. A pile of wood is stacked up carelessly against the wall by the stove. 123 124 BF.YOND THE HORIZON The whole atmosphere of the room, contrasted with that of former years, is one of an habitual poverty too hopelessly resigned to he any longer ashamed or even conscious of itself. At the rise of the curtain Ruth is discovered sitting by the stove, with hands outstretched to the warmth as if the air in the room were damp and cold. A heavy shawl is wrapped about her shoulders, half-concealing her dress of deep mourning. She has aged horribly. Her pale, deeply lined face has the stony lack of expression of one to whom nothing more can ever happen, whose capacity for emotion has been exhausted. When she speaks her voice is without timbre, low and monotonous. The negligent disorder of her dress, the slovenly arrangement of her hair, now streaked with grey, her muddied shoes run down at the heel, give full evidence of the apathy in which she lives. Her mother is asleep in her wheel chair beside the stove toward the rear, wrapped up in a blanket. There is a sound from the open bedroom door in the rear as if someone were getting out of bed. Ruth turn^ in that direction with a look of dull annoyance. A moment later Robert appears in the doorway, leaning weakly against it for sup- port. His hair is long and unkempt, his face\ and body emaciated. There are bright patches of crimson over his cheek bones and his eyes are BEYOND THE HORIZON 125 burning with fever. He is dressed in corduroy pants, a flannel shirt, and wears worn carpet slippers on his bare feet. Ruth — [Didly.] S-s-s-h-h! Ma's asleep. \\ Robert — [Speaking with an effort.] I -won't wake 'her. [He walks weaMy to a rocker by the side of the mable and sinks down in it exhausted.] I Ruth — [Staring at the stove.] You better come near the fire where it's warm. RoBEKT — No. I'm buiTiing up now. Ruth — That's the fever. You know the doctor told 3'ou not to get up and move round. Robert — [Irritably.] That old fossil! He doesn't know anything. Go to bed and stay there — that's his only prescription. Ruth — [Indifferently.] How are you feeling now? Robert — [Buoyantly.] Better! Much better than I've felt in ages. Really I'm quite healthy now — only very weak. It's the turning point, I guess. From now on I'll pick up so quick I'll surprise you — and no thanks to that old fool of a country quack, cither. Ruth — He's always tended to us. Robert — Always helped us to die, you mean ! He " tended" to Pa and Ma and — (his voice breaks) — and to — Mary. Ruth — [DuUy.] He did the best he knew, I s'pose. 126 BEYOND THE HORIZON [After a pause.] Well, Andy's bringing a specialist with him when he comes. That ought to suit you. Robert — [Bitterly/.] Is that why you're waiting up all night.? Ruth — Yes. Robert — For Andy.'' Ruth — [Withoiit a trace of feeling.] Somebody had got to, when he's bringing that doctor with him. You can't tell when he might get here if he's coming from the port in an auto like he telegraphed us. And besides it's only right for someone to meet him after he's been gone five years. Robert — [With bitter mockery.] Five years! It's a long time. Ruth — Yes. Robert — [Meaningly.] To wait! Ruth — [hidiffercntly.] It's past now. Robert^- Yes, it's past. [After a pause.] Have you got his two telegrams with you.'' [Ruth nods.] Let me see them, will you.'' My head was so full of fever when they came I couldn't make head or tail to them. [Hastily.] But I'm feeling fine now. Let me read them again. [Ruth takes them from the bosom of her dress and hands them to him.] Ruth — Here. The first one's on top. Robert — [Operiingit.] New York. " Just landed from steamer. Have important business to wind up here. Will be home as soon as deal is completed.'* [He smiles bitterly.] Business first was always Andy's motto. [He reads.] " Hope you are all well. Andy.'* BEYOND THE HORIZON 127 He repeats ironically.^ "Hope you are all well!" Ruth — [Dully.] He couldn't know you'd been took sick till I answered that and told him. Robert — [Contritely.] Of course he couldn't. You're right. I'm a fool. I'm touchy about nothing latel}'. Just what did 3'ou say in your reply? I forget. Ruth — [Inconsequentially.] I had to send it col- lect. [Robert frowns.] I wrote you were pretty low and for him to huiTy up here, Robert — [Irritably.] He'll think I'm dying or some such foolishness. What an idiotic exaggeration ! What did you say was the matter with me ? Did you mention that .? Ruth — I wrote you had lung trouble — just those two words. [Dully.] The boy said it wouldn't cost any more for two words. Robert — [Flying into a petty temper.] You are a fool! How often have I explained to you that it's pleurisy is the matter with me. You can't seem to get it in your head that the pleura is outside the lungs, not in them I Ruth — [Callously.] I only wrote what Doctor Smith told me. Robert — [Angrily.] He's a damned ignoramus! Ruth — [Dully.] Makes no difference. I had to tell Andy something, didn't 1? Robert — [After a pause, opening the other tele- gram.] He sent this last evening. Let's see. [He reads.] "Leave for home on midnight train. Just 128 BEYOND THE HORIZON received your wire. Am bringing specialist to see Rob. Will motor to farm from Port." [He calcu- lates.] The midnight gets in the Port about four- thirty, I think, or five. It should take a car an hour or more to get here. What time is it now? Ruth — Round six, must be. Robert — He ought to be here soon. I'm glad he's bringing a doctor who knows something. I'm tired of being at the mercy of that cheap old quack. A specialist will tell you in a second that there's nothing the matter with my lungs. Ruth — [StoUdli^.] You've been coughing an awful lot lately. Robert — [Irritably.] What nonsense! For God's sake, haven't you ever had a bad cold yourself? [Ruth stares at the stove in silence. Robert fidgets in his chair. There is a pause. Finally Robert's eyes are -fixed on the sleeping Mrs. Atkins.] Your mother is lucky to be able to sleep so soundly. Ruth — Ma's tired. She's been sitting up with me most of the night. Robert — [Mockingly.] Is she waiting for Andy, too.'* [There is a pause. Robert sighs.] I couldn't get to sleep to save my soul. I counted ten million sheep if I counted one. No use! My brain kept pounding out thoughts as if its life depended on it. I gave up trying finally and just laid there in the dark thinking. [He pauses, then continues in a tone of tender sympathy.] I was thinking about you, BEYOND THE HORIZON 129 Ruth — of how hard these last j^ears must have been for you. [Appealingly.] I'm sorry, Ruth. Ruth — [In a dead voice.] I don't know. They're past now. They were hard on all of us. Robert — Yes; on all of us but Andy. [With a flash of sick jealousy.] Andy's made a big success of himself — the kind he wanted. He's got lots of money and, I suppose, a reputation for being a sharp business man. [Mockinglt/.] ^Vliat else is there in life to wish for, eh, Ruth? And now he's coming home to let us admire his greatness. [Frowning — irritabl?/.] What does it matter? What am I talking about? My brain must be sick, too. [After a pause.] Yes, these years have been terrible for both of us. [His voice is lowered to a trembling whisper.] Especially the last eight months since Mary — died. [He forces back a sob with a convulsive shudder — then breaks out in a passionate agony. ] Our last hope of happiness! I could curse God from the bottom of my soul — if there was a God! [He is racked by a violent fit of coughing and hurriedly puts his hand- kerchief to his lips.] Ruth — [Without looking at him.] Mary's better off — ^being dead. Robert — [Gloomily.] We'd all be better off for that matter. [With sudden exasperation.] You tell that mother of yours she's got to stop saying that Mary's death was due to a weak constitution inherited from me. [On the verge of tears of weakness.] It's got to stop, I tell you! 130 BEYOND THE HORIZON Ruth — [Sullenly.] She's only saying what Doctor Smith said. Robert — [Fiercel2^.] He's an old ass, and I'll tell him if Ruth — [Sharply.] S-h-Ii! You'll wake her; and then she'll nag at me — not you. Robert — [Coughs and lies hack in his chair weaMy — a pause.] It's all because your mother's down on me for not begging Andy for help when things got worse here. Ruth — [Resentfully.] You might have. He's got plenty, if what he says is true. Robert — How can you of all people think of taking money from him? Ruth — [Dully.] I don't see the harm. He's your own brother. Robert — [Shrugging his shoulders.] What's the use of talking to you? Well, I couldn't. [Proudly.] And I've managed to keep things going, thank God. You can't deny that without help I've succeeded in [He breaks off with a bitter laugh.] My God, what am I boasting of? Debts to this one and that, taxes, interest unpaid! I'm a fool! [He lies back in his chair closing his eyes for a moment, then speaks in a low voice.] I'll be frank, Ruth. I've been an utter failure, and I've dragged you with me. I couldn't blame you in all justice — for hating me. Ruth — [Without feeling.] I don't hate you. It's been my fault too, I s'pose. BEYOND THE HORIZON 131 Robert — No. You couldn't help loving — Andy. Ruth — [Dully.] I don't love anyone. RoBEKT — [Waving her remark aside.] You needn't deny it. It doesn't matter. [After a pause — with a tender smile.] Do you know Ruth, what I've been dreaming back there in the dark? [With a short laugh.] It may sound silly of me but — I was plan- ning our future when I get well. [He looks at her with appealing eyes as if afraid she will sneer at him. Her expression does not change. She stares at the stove. His voice takes on a note of eagerness.] After all, why shouldn't we have a future? We're young yet. If we can only shake off the curse of this farm ! It's the farm that's iniined our lives, damn it! And now that Andy's coming back — I'm going to sink my foolish pride, Ruth ! I'll borrow the money from him to give us a good start in the city. We'll go where people live instead of stagnating, and start all over again. [Confidently.] I won't be the failure there that I've been here, Ruth. You won't need to be ashamed of me there. I'll prove to you the reading I've done can be put to some use. [Vaguely.] I'll write, or something of that sort, I've always wanted to write. [Pleadingly.] You'll want to do that, won't you, Ruth? RvTH— [Dully.] There's Ma. Robert — She can come with us. Ruth — She wouldn't. Robert — [Angrily.] So that's your answer! [He trembles with violent passion. His voice is so strange 182 BEYOND THE HORIZON that Ruth turns to look at him m alarm.^ You're lying, Ruth! Your mother's just an excuse. You want to stay here. You think that because Andy's coming back that \He chokes and has an attach of coughing.^ Ruth — {^Getting up — in a frightened voice. ^ What's the matter? \She goes to him.^ I'll go with' you, Rob. I don't care for Andy like you think.. Stop that coughing for goodness sake! It's awful bad for you. {She soothes him~ in dull tones.] I'll go with you to the city — soon's you're well again. Honest I will, Rob, I promise ! [Rob lies back and closes his eyes. She stands looking down at him anxiously.] Do you feel better now.'' Robert — Yes.' [Ruth goes back to her chair. After a 'pause he opens his eyes and sits up in his chair. His face is flushed and happy.] Then you will go, Ruth.? Ruth — Yes. Robert — [Excitedly.] We'll make a new start, Ruth — just you and I. Life owes us some happiness after what we've been through. [Vehemently.] It must ! Otherwise our suffering would be meaningless — and that is unthinkable. Ruth — [Worried by his excitement.] Yes, yes, of course, Rob, but you mustn't Robert — Oh, don't be afraid. I feel completely well, really I do — now that I can hope again. Oh if you knew how glorious it feels to have something to look forward to — not just a dream, but something I BEYOND THE HORIZON 133 ' tangible, something alread}^ within our grasp ! Can't you feel the thrill of it, too — the vision of a new life opening up after all the horrible years? Ruth — Yes, yes, but do be Robert — Nonsense! I won't be careful. I'm get- ting back all my strength. [He gets lightly to his feet.] See! I feel light as a feather. [He walks to her chair and bends down to kiss her smilingly.] One kiss — the first in years, isn't it? — to greet the dawn of a new life together. Ruth — [Submitting to his kiss — worriedly.] Sit down, Rob, for goodness' sake! Robert — [With tender obstinacy — stroking her hair] I won't sit down. You're silly to worry. [He rests one hand on the back of her chair.] Listen. All our suffering has been a test through which we had to pass to prove ourselves worthy of a finer realization. [Exultingly.] And we did pass through it! It hasn't broken us! And now the dream is to come true! Don't you see? Ruth — [Looking at him with frightened eyes as if she thought he had gone mad.] Yes, Rob, I see; but won't you go back to bed now and rest? Robert — No. I'm going to see the sun rise. It's an augury of good fortune. [He goes quickly to the mindow in the rear, left, and pushing the curtains aside, stands looking out. Ruth springs to her feet and comes quickly to the table, left, where she remains watching Robert in a tense, expectant attitude. As he peers out his body seems gradually to sag, to grow 134 BEYOND THE HORIZON limp and tired. His voice is mournful as he speaJcs.\ No sun yet. It isn't time. All I can see is the black rim of the damned hills outlined against a creeping greyness. [He turns arownd; letting the curtains fall bacJc, stretching' a hand out to the wall to support himself. His false strength of a moment has evap^ orated leaving his face drawn and hollow eyed. He makes a pitiful attempt to smile.] That's not a very happy augur}^, is it? But the sun'll come — soon. [He sways weakly. ] Ruth — [Hurrying to his side and supporting him.] Please go to bed, won't you, Rob? You don't want to be all wore out when the specialist comes, do you? Robert — [Quickly.] No. That's right. He mustn't think I'm sicker than I am. And I feel as if I could sleep now — [Cheerfully.] — a good, sound, restful sleep. Ruth — [Helping him to the bedroom door.] That's what you need most. [They go inside. A moment later she reappears calling hack.] I'll shut this door so's you'll be quiet. [She closes the door and goes quickly to her mother and shakes her by the shoulder.] Ma! Ma! Wake up! Mes. Atkins — [Coming out of her sleep with a start.] Glory be! What's the matter with you? Ruth — It was Rob. He's just been talking to me out here. I put him back to bed. [Now that she is sure her mother is awake her fear passes and she re-- lapses into dull indifference. She sits down in her chair BEYOND THE HORIZON 135 and stares at the stove — dully.] He acted — funny; and his eyes looked so — so wild like. Mrs. Atkins — [With asperity.] And is that all you woke me out of a sound sleep for, and scared me near out of my wits.? Ruth — I was afraid. He talked so crazy — staring out of the window as if he saw — something — and speaking about the hills, and wanting to see the sun rise — and all such notions. I couldn't quiet him. It was like he used to talk — only mad, kind of. I didn't want to be alone with him that way. Lord knows what he might do. Mrs. Atkins — [Scornfully.] Humph! A poor help I'd be to you and me not able to move a step! Why didn't you run and get Jake.? Ruth — [Dully.] Jake isn't here. I thought I'd told you. He quit last night. He hasn't been paid in three months. You can't blame him. Mrs. Atkins — [Indignantly.] No, I can't blame him when I come to think of it. What decent person'd want to work on a place like this? [With sudden exasperation.] Oh, I wish you'd never married that man! Ruth — [Wearily.] You oughtn't to talk about him now when he's sick in his bed. Mrs. Atkins — [Working herself into a fit of rage.] It's lucky for me and you, too, I took my part of the place out of his hands years ago. You know very well, Ruth Mayo, if it wasn't for me helpin' you on the sly out of my savin's, you'd both 136 BEYOND THE HORIZON been in the poor house — and all 'count of his pig- headed pride in not lettin' Andy know the state thin's were in. A nice thing for me to have to support him out of what I'd saved for my last days — and me an invalid with no one to look to! Ruth — Andy'll pay you back, Ma. I can tell him so's Rob'll never know. Mes. Atkins — [With a snort.] What'd Rob think you and him was livin' on, I'd like to know.? Ruth — [Dulli/.] He didn't think about it, I s'pose. [After a slight pause.] He said he'd made up his i mind to ask Andy for help when he comes. [As a clock in the kitchen strikes six.] Six o'clock. Andy ought to get here directly. Mrs. Atkins — D'you think this special doctor'U do Rob any good.'' Ruth — [Hopelessly.] I don't know. [The two women remain silent for a time staring dejectedly at the stove.] Mes. Atkins — [Shivering irritably.] For good- ness' sake put some wood on that fire. I'm most freezin' ! Ruth — [Pointing to the door in the rear.] Don't talk so loud. Let him sleep if he can. [She gets wearily from the chair and puts a few pieces of wood in the stove. Then she tiptoes to the bedroom door and listens.] Mes. Atkins — [In a sharp whisper.] Is he sleepin' ^ Ruth — [Coming back.] I couldn't hear him move. BEYOND THE HORIZON 137 ,1 s'pose he is. [She puts another stick in the stove.] ii'This is the last of the wood in the pile. I don't know j'who'll cut more now that Jake's left. [She sighs and \ walks to the window in the rear, left, pulls the cur- tains aside, and looks out.] It's getting grey out. It'll be light soon and we can put out that lamp. [She comes back to the stove.] Looks like it'd be a nice day. [She stretches out her hands to warm them.] Must've been a heavy frost last night. We're paying for the spell of warm weather we've been having. [The throbbing whine of a motor sounds from\ the distance outside.] Mrs. Atkins — [Sharply.] S-h-h! Listen! Ain't that an auto I hear.^* Ruth — [Without interest.] Yes. It's Andy, I s'pose. Mrs. Atkins — [With nervous irritation.] Don't sit there like a silly goose. Look at the state of this room ! What'll this strange doctor think of us ,? Look at that lamp chimney all smoke! Gracious sakes, Ruth Ruth — [Indifferently.] I've got a lamp all cleaned up in the kitchen. Mrs. Atkins — [Peremptorily.] Wheel me in there this minute. I don't want him to see me looking a sight. I'll lay down in the room the other side. You i don't need me now and I'm dead for sleep. I'll have plenty of time to see Andy. [Ruth wheels her mother off right. The noise of the motor grows louder and fiTially ceases as the car stops on the road before the 138 BEYOND THE HORIZON farmhouse. Ruth returns from the kitchen with a 1 lighted lamp in her hand which she sets on the table . beside the other. The sound of footsteps on the path is heard — then a sharp rap on the door. Ruth goes and opens it. Andrew enters, followed by Doctor Fawcett carrying a small black bag. Andrew has changed greatly. His face seems to have grown high- strung, hardened by the look of decisiveness which < comes from being constantly under a strain where judgments on the spur of the moment are compelled to be accurate. His eyes are keener and more alerP. There is even a suggestion of ruthless cunning about them. At present, however, his expression is one of tense anxiety. Doctor Fawcett is a short, dark, middle-aged man with a Vandyke beard. He wears glasses.] Ruth — Hello, Andy ! I've been waiting Andrew — [Kissing her hastily.] I know. I got here as soon as I could. [He throws off his cap and heavy overcoat on the table, introducing Ruth and the Doctor as he does so. He is dressed in an expen- sive business suit and appears stouter.] My sister-in- law, Mrs. Mayo — Doctor Fawcett. [They bow to each other silently. Andrew casts a quick glance about the room.] Where's Rob.'' Ruth — [Pointing.] In there. Andrew — I'll take your coat and hat, Doctor. [As he helps the Doctor with his things.] Is he veryi bad, Ruth? Ruth — [Dully.] He's been getting weaker. I BEYOND THE HORIZON 139 Anduew — Damn! This way, Doctor. Bring the IS lamp, Ruth. [He goes into the bedroom, followed hy the Doctor and Ruth carrying the clean lamp. Ruth reappears almost immediately closing the door behind her, and goes slowly to the outside door, which she opens, and stands in the doorway looking out. The sound of Andrew's and Robert's voices comes from the bedroom. A moment later Andrew re-enters, closing the door softly. He comes forward and sinks down on the rocker on the right of table, leaning his head on his hand. His face is drawn in a shocked expression of great grief. He sighs heavily, staring mornfully in front of him. Ruth turns and stands watching him. Then she shuts the door and returns to her chair by the stove, turning it so she can face himJ\ Andrew — [Glancing up quickly — in a harsh voice.] How long has this been going on? Ruth — You mean — how long has he been sick.'' Andrew — [Shortly.] Of course! What else.? Ruth — It was last summer he had a bad spell first, but he's been ailin' ever since Mary died — eight months ago. Andrew — [Harshly.] Why didn't you let me know — cable me? Do you want him to die, all of you? I'm damned if it doesn't look that way! [His voice breaking.] Poor old chap! To be sick in this out-of-the-way hole without an3'one to attend to him but a country quack ! It's a damned shame ! 140 BEYOND THE HORIZON but he only got mad when I told him. He was too proud to ask anything, he said. Andrew — Proud? To ask me? [He jumps to his feet and paces nervously back and forth.] I can't understand the way you've acted. Didn't you see how sick he was getting? Couldn't you realize — why, I nearly dropped in my tracks when I saw him! He looks — [He shudders.] — terrible! [With fierce scorn.] I suppose you're so used to the idea of his being delicate that you took his sickness as a matter of course. God, If I'd only known ! Ruth — [Without emotion.] A letter takes so long to get where you were — and we couldn't afford to tele- graph. We owed everyone already, and I couldn't ask Ma. She'd been giving me money out of her savings for the last two years till she hadn't much left. Don't say anything to Rob about it. I never told him. He'd only be mad at me if he knew. But I had to, because — God knows how we'd have got on if I hadn't. Andrew — ^You mean to say [His eyes seem to take in the poverty-stricken appearance of the room for the -first time.] You sent that telegram to me collect. Was it because [Ruth nods silently. Andrew pounds on the table with his fist.] Good God! And all this time I've been — ^why I've had everything ! [He sits down in his chair and pulls it close to Ruth's — impulsively.] But — I can't get it through my head. Why? Why? What has happened? How did it ever come about? Tell me! BEYOND THE HORIZON 141 Ruth — [Dullt/.] There's nothing much to tell. Things kept getting worse, that's all — and Rob didn't seem to care. Andrew — But hasn't he been working the farm? Ruth — He never took any interest since way back when your Ma died. After that he got men to take charge, and they nearly all cheated him — he couldn't tell — and left one after another. And then there'd be times when there was no one to see to it, when he'd be looking to hire someone new. And the hands wouldn't stay. It was hard to get them. They didn't want to work here, and as soon as they'd get a chance to work some other place they'd leave. Then after Mary died he didn't pay no heed to anything any more — ^just stayed indoors and took to reading books again. So I had to ask Ma if she wouldn't help us some. Andrew — [Surprised and horrified.] Why, damn it, this is frightful! Rob must be mad not to have let me know. Too proud to ask help of me! It's an insane idea ! It's crazy ! And for Rob, of all people, to feel that way! What's the matter with him in God's name.? He didn't appear to have changed when I was talking to him a second ago. He seemed the same old Rob — only very sick physically. [A sud- den, horrible suspicion entering his mind.] Ruth! Tell me the truth. His mind hasn't gone back on him, has it? Ruth — [DuUt^.] I don't know. Mary's dying 142 BEYOND THE HORIZON broke him up terrible — but he's used to her being gone by this, I s'pose. Andrew — [Looking at her queerly.] Do you mean to say you're used to it? Ruth — [In a dead tone.] There's a time comes — when you don't mind any more — anything. Andrew — [Looks at her fixedly for a moment — with great pity.] I'm sorry I talked the way I did just now, Ruth — if I seemed to blame you. I didn't realize The sight of Rob lying in bed there, so gone to pieces — it made me furious at everyone. For- give me, Ruth. Ruth — There's nothing to forgive. It doesn't matter. Andrew — [Springing to his feet again and pacing up and down.] Thank God I came back before it was too late. This doctor will know exactly what to do to bring him back to health. That's the first thing to think of. When Rob's on his feet again we can get the farm working on a sound basis once more. I'll see to it so that you'll never have any more trouble — before I leave. Ruth — You're going away again? Andrew — Yes. Back to Argentine. I've got to. Ruth — You wrote Rob you was coming back to stay this time. Andrew — I expected to — until I got to New York. Then I learned certain facts that make it necessary. [With a short laugh.] To be candid, Ruth, I'm not the rich man you've probably been led to believe by BEYOND THE HORIZON 143 my letters — not now. I was when I wrote them. I made money hand over fist as long as I stuck to legiti- mate trading; but I wasn't content with that. I wanted it to come easier, so like all the rest of the idiots, I tried speculation. It was funny, too. I'd always been dead set against that form of gambling before. I guess there's still enough of the farmer in me to make me feel squeemish about Wheat Pits. But I got into it just the same, and it seemed as if I never had a chance to get out. Oh, I won all right ! Several times I've been almost a millionaire — on paper — and then come down to earth again with a bump. Finally the strain was too much. I got disgusted with myself and made up my mind to get out and come home and forget it and really live again. I got out — with just a quarter of a million dollars more than I'd had when I landed there five years before. [He gives a harsh laugh.] And now comes the funny part. The day before the steamer sailed I saw what I thought was a chance to become a millionaire again. [He snaps his fingers.] That easy! I plunged. Then, before things broke, I left — I was so confident I couldn't be wrong — and I left explicit orders to friends. [Bitterly.] Friends! Well, maybe it wasn't their fault. A fool deserves what he gets. Anyway, when I landed in New York — I wired you I had busi- ness to wind up, didn't I.'' Well, it was the business that wound me up ! [He smiles grimly, pacing up and downy his hands in his pockets.] 144 BEYOND THE HORIZON Ruth — [Dully.] You found — you'd lost every^ thing? Andrew — [Sitting down again.] Practically. [He takes a cigar from his pocket, bites the end off, and lights it.] Oh, I don't mean I'm dead broke. I've saved ten thousand from the wreckage, maybe twenty. But that's a poor showing for five years' hard work. That's why I'll have to go back. [Confidently.] I can make it up in a year or so down there — and I don't need but a shoestring to start with. [A weary expression comes over his face and he sighs heavily.] I wish I didn't have to. I'm sick of it all. And I'd made so many plans about converting this place into a real home for all of us, and a working proposition that'd pay big at the same time. [Ti^if/i another sigh.] It'll have to wait. Ruth — It's too bad — things seem to go wrong so. Andrew — [Shaking off his depression — briskly.] They might be much worse. There's enough left to fix the farm O. K. before I go. I won't leave 'til Rob's on his feet again. In the meantime I'll make things fly around here. [With satisfaction.] I need a rest, and the kind of rest I need is hard work in the open — just like I used to do in the old days. I'll organize things on a working basis and get a real man to carry out my plans while I'm away — ^what I in- tended to do the last time. [Stopping abruptly and lowering his voice cautiously.] Not a word to Rob about my losing money ! Remember that, Ruth ! You BEYOND THE HORIZON 145 lean see why. If he's grown so touchy he'd never [accept a cent if he thought I was hard up; see? Ruth — Yes, Andy. [After a pause, during which lNDrew puffs at his cigar abstractedly, his mind evi- \dently busy with plans for the future, the bedroom moor is opened and Doctor Fawcett enters, carrying \a bag. He closes the door quietly behind him and \comes forward, a grave expression on his face. An- drew springs out of his chair.] Andrew — Ah, Doctor! [He pushes a chair between his own and Ruth's.] Won't you have a chair? Fawcett — [Glancing at his watch.] I must catch i the nine o'clock back to the city. It's imperative. I {have only a moment. [Sitting down and clearing his r throat — in a perfunctory, impersonal voice.] The . case of your brother, Mr. Mayo, is [He stops and glances at Ruth and says meaningly to An- : DREW.] Perhaps it would be better if you and I Ruth — [With dogged resentment.] I know what you mean. Doctor; but I'm not going. I'm his wife, and I've got a right to hear what you're going to say. [Dully.] Don't be afraid I can't stand it. I'm used to bearing trouble by this ; and I can guess what you've found out. Don't you s'pose I could see it staring out of his eyes at me these last days? [She hesitates for a moment — then continues in a monot- onous voice.] Rob's going to die. Andrew — [Angrily.] Ruth! Fawcett — [Raising his hand as if to command silence.] In view of what you have said, Mrs. Mayo, 146 BEYOND THE HORIZON I see no reason to withhold the facts from you. [He turns to Andrew.] I am afraid my diagnosis of your brother's condition forces me to the same conclusion as Mrs. Mayo's. Andrew — [Groaning.] But Doctor, surely Fawcett — [Cahnli/.] I am concerned only with facts, my dear sir, and this is one of them. Your brother has not long to live — perhaps a few days, perhaps only a few hours. I would not dare to ven- ture a prediction on that score. It is a marvel that he is alive at this moment. My examination revealed that both of his lungs are terribly affected. A hemor- rhage, resulting from any exertion or merely through the unaided progress of the disease itself, will un- doubtedly prove fatal. Andrew — [Brokenly. 1 Good God! [IItjtu. keeps her eyes fixed on her lap in a trance-like stare.] Fawcett — I am sorry I have to tell you this, sorry my trip should prove to be of such little avail. If there was anything that could be done Andrew — There isn't anything? Fawcett — [Shaking his head.] I am afraid not. It is too late. Six months ago there might have Andrew — [In anguish.] But if we were to take him to the mountains — or to Arizona — or Fawcett — That might have prolonged his life six months ago. [Andrew groans.] But now [He shrugs his shoulders significantly.] I would only be raising a hope in you foredoomed to disappointment if I encouraged any belief that a change of air could BEYOND THE HORIZON 147 accomplish the impossible. He could not make a journey. The excitement, the effort required, would inevitably bring on the end. Andrew — [Appalled hy a sudden thought.] Good heavens, you haven't told him this, have you, Doctor? Fawcett — No. I lied to him. I said a change of climate to the mountains, the desert would bring about a cure. [Perplexedly.] He laughed at that. He seemed to find it amusing for some reason or other. I am sure he knew I was lying. A clear foresight seems to come to people as near death as he is. [He sighs.] One feels foolish lying to them; and yet one feels one ought to do it, I don't know why. [He looks at his watch again nervously.] I must take my leave of you. It is really imperative that I take no risk of missing [He gets up.] Andrew — [Getting to his feet — insistently.] But there must still be a chance for him, isn't there, Doctor ? Fawcett — [As if he were reassuring a child.] There is always that last chance — the miracle. We doctors see it happen too often to disbelieve in it. [He puts on his hat and coat — bowing to Ruth.] Goodby, Mrs. Mayo. Ruth — [Without raising her eyes — didly.] Good- by. Andrew — [Mechanically.] I'll walk to the car with you. Doctor. [They go out the door. Ruth sits mo- tionlessly. The motor is heard starting and the noise gradually recedes into the distance. Andrew re- 148 BEYOND THE HORIZON enters and sits down in his chair, holding his head in his hands.] Ruth ! [She lifts her eyes to his.] Hadn't we better go in and see him ? God ! I'm afraid to ! I know he'll read it in my face. {The bedroom door is noiselessly opened and Robert appears in the door- way. His cheeks are flushed with fever, and his eyes appear unusually large and brilliant. Andrew con- tinues with a groan.] It can't be, Ruth. It can't be as hopeless as he said. There's always a fighting chance. We'll take Rob to Arizona. He's got to get well. There must be a chance ! Robert — [In a gentle tone.] Why must there, Andy? [Ruth turns and stares at him with terrified eyes.] Andrew — [ Whirling around. ] Rob ! [Scoldi/ngly.] What are you doing out of bed.'' [He gets up and goes to him.] Get right back now and obey the Doc, or you're going to get a licking from me ! Robert — [Ignoring these remarks.] Help me over to the chair, please, Andy. Andrew — Like hell I will ! You're going right back to bed, that's where you're going, and stay there! [He takes hold of Robert's arm.] Robert — [Mockingly.] Stay there 'til I die, eh, Andy.? [Coldly.] Don't behave like a child. I'm sick of lying down. I'll be more rested sitting up. [As Andrew hesitates — violently.] I swear I'll get out of bed every time you put me there. You'll have to sit on my chest, and that wouldn't help my health any. Come on, Andy. Don't play the fool. I want BEYOND THE HORIZON 149 to talk to you, and I'm going to. [With a grim smile.] A dying man has some rights, hasn't he? Andrew — [With a shudder.] Don't talk that way, for God's sake! I'll only let you sit down if you'll promise that. Remember. [He helps Rob to the chair between his own and Ruth's.] Easy now! There you are! Wait, and I'll get a pillow for you. [He goes into the bedroom. Robert looks at Ruth who shrinks away from him in terror. Robert smiles bitterly. Andrew comes back with the pillow which he places behind Robert's back.] How's that? Robert — [With an affectionate smile.] Fine! Thank you! [As A:kj)tlew sits down.] Listen, Andy, you've asked me not to talk — and I won't after I've made my position clear. [Slowly.] In the first place I know I'm dying. [Ruth bows her head and covers her face with her hands. She remains like this all during the scene between the two brothers.] Andrew — Rob ! That isn't so ! Robert — [Wearily.] It is so! Don't lie to me. It's useless and it irritates me. After Ruth put me to bed before you came, I saw it clearly for the first time, [Bitterly.] I'd been making plans for our future — Ruth's and mine — so it came hard at first — the realiza- tion. Then when the doctor examined me, I knew — although he tried to lie about it. And then to make sure I listened at the door to what he told you. So, for my sake, don't mock me with fairy tales about Ari- zona, or any such rot as that. Because I'm dying is no reason you should treat me as an imbecile or a 150 BEYOND THE HORIZON coward. Now that Pm sure what's happening I can say Kismet to it with all my heart. It was only the silly uncertainty that hurt. [There is a pause. An- DBEw looks around in impotent anguish, not knoscing rchat to say. Robert regards him with an affectionate smile.] AxDKEw — [Finally blurts out.] It isn't foolish. You have got a chance. If you heard all the Doctor said that ought to prove it to you. Robert — Oh, you mean when he spoke of the pos- sibility of a miracle? [Dryly.] The Doctor and II disagree on that point. I don't believe in miracles- in my case. Beside I know more than any doctor in earth could know — because I feel what's coming. [Dismissing the subject.] But we've agreed not to talk of it. Tell me about yourself, Andy, and what you've done all these years. That's what I'm inter- ested in. Your letters were too brief and far apart to be illuminating. As'DREw — I meant to write oftener. Robert — [With a faint trace of irony.] I judge from them you've accomplished all you set out to do five years ago.' AxDREw — That isn't much to boast of. Robert — [Surprised.] Have you really, honestly reached that conclusion.^ Andrew — Well, it doesn't seem to amount to much now. Robert — But you're rich, aren't you? BEYOXD THE HORIZON" 151 Andrew — [With a quick glance at Ruth.] Ye3, s'pose so. Robert — I'm glad. You can do to the farm all 've undone. [With a smUe.] Do you know I was proud to ask vou for money when thing^s went here.^ You'll have to forgive me for that, Andy. AxDREw — I knew it wasn't like you to feel that way. Robert — But what did you do down there? Tell me. You went in the grain business with that friend of yours? AxDREw — Yes. After two years I had a share in it. I sold out last year. [He is answering Rob's questions with great reluctance.^ Robert — And then? Andrew — I went in on my own. Robert — ^Your own business? Andrew — I s'pose you'd call it that. Robert — Still in grain? Andrew — Yes. Robert — What's the matter? What's there to be ashamed of? You look as if I wa^ accusing you of crimes. Andrew — I'm proud enough of the first four years. It's after that I'm not boasting of. You see, I couldn't make money easy enough that way, so I took to speculating. Robert — In wheat? Andrew — Yes. Robert — And you made money — gambling? 152 BEYOND THE HORIZON Andrew — Yes. Robert — I can't imagine you as the easy-come, . easy-go kind. Andrew — I'm not. I'm sick of it. Robert — [Thoughtfully.] I've been wondering what the great change was in you. I can see now. It's your eyes. There's an expression about them as if you were constantly waiting to hear a cannon go off, and wincing at the bang beforehand. Andrew — [GrimlT/.] I've felt just that way all the past year. Robert — [After a pause during which his eyes search Andrew's face.] Why haven't you ever mar- ried ? Andrew — Never wanted to. Didn't have time to think of it, I guess. Robert — [After a pause.] You — a farmer — to gamble in a wheat pit with scraps of paper. There's a spiritual significance in that picture, Andy. [He smiles bitterly.] I'm a failure, and Ruth's another — but we can both justly lay some of the blame for our stumbling on God. But you're the deepest-dyed failure of the three, Andy. You've spent eight years running away from yourself. Do you see what I mean.'* You used to be a creator when you loved the farm. You and life were in harmonious partnership. And now [He stops as if seeking vainly for words.] My brain is muddled. But part of what I mean is that your gambling with the thing you used to love to create proves how far astray you've gotten BEYOND THE HORIZON 153 from the truth. So you'll be punished. You'll have to suffer to win back [His voice grows weaker and he sighs wearily.] It's no use. I can't say it. [He lies back and closes his eyes, breathing pant- ingly.] Andrew — [Slowly.] I think I know what you're driving at, Rob — and it's true, I guess. [Robert smiles gratefzdly and stretches out his hand, which Andrew takes in his.] Robert — I want you to promise me to do one thing, Andy, after — Andrew — I'll promise anything, as God is my Judge ! Robert — Remember, Andy, Ruth has suffered double her share, and you haven't suffered at all. [His voice faltering with weakness.] Only through contact with suffering, Andy, will you — awaken. '<''' Listen. You must marry Ruth — afterwards. Ruth — [With a cry.] Rob! [Robert lies back, his eyes closed, gasping heavily for breath.] Andrew — [Making signs to her to humor him — gently.] You're tired out, Rob. You shouldn't have talked so much. You better lie down and rest a while, don't you think.'' We can talk later on. Robert — [With a mocking smile.] Later on ! You always were an optimist, Andy! [He sighs with exhaustion.] Yes, I'll go and rest a while. [As An- drew comes to help him.] It must be near sunrise, isn't it.'' It's getting gi'ey out, Andrew — Yes — pretty near. It's after six. 154 BEYOND THE HORIZON Robert — [As Andrew helps him to the bedroom.] Pull the bed around so it'll face the window, will you, Andy? I can't sleep, but I'll rest and forget if I can watch the rim of the hills and dream of what is waiting beyond. [They go into the bedroom.] And shut the door, Andy. I want to be alone. [Andrew reappears and shuts the door softly. He comes and sits down on his chair again, supporting his head on his hands. His face is drawn with the intensity of his dry-eyed anguish.] Ruth — [Glancing at him — fearfully.] He's out of his mind now, isn't he? Andrew — He may be a little delirious. The fever would do that. [With impotent rage.] God, what a shame ! And there's nothing we can do but sit and — ■ wait! [He springs from his chair and walks to the stove.] Ruth — [Dully.] He was talking — wild — like he ! used to — only this time it sounded — unnatural, don't you think .-^ Andrew — I don't know. The things he said to me had truth in them — even if he did talk them way up in the air, like he always sees things. Still [He glances down at Ruth keenly.] Why do you suppose he wanted us to promise we'd [Con- fusedly.] You know what he said. Ruth — [Didly.] His mind was wandering, I s'pose. m Andrew — [With conviction.] No — there was something back of it. BEYOND THE HORIZON 155 Ruth — He wanted to make sure I'd be all right — after he'd gone, I expect. Andrew — No, it wasn't that. He knows very well I'd naturally look after you without — anything like that. Ri'Tii — He might be thinking of — something hap- pened five years back, the time you came home from the trip. Andrew — What happened? What do you mean? Ruth — [DuJly.] It was the day you came. We had a fight. Andrew — A fight? What has that to do with me? Ruth — It was about you — in a way. Andrew — [Amazed.] About me? Ruth — Yes, mostly. You see I'd found out I'd made a mistake about Rob soon after we were married — when it was too late. Andrew — Mistake? [Slowlt^.] You mean — you found out you didn't love Rob? Ruth — Yes. Andrew — Good God! Ruth — And then I thought that when Mary came it'd be different, and I'd love him ; but it didn't hap- pen that way. And I couldn't bear with his blunder- ing and book-reading — and I grew to hate him, almost. Andrew — Ruth ! Ruth — I couldn't help it. No woman could. It had to be because I loved someone else, I'd found out. [She sighs wearily.] It can't do no hami to tell you 156 BEYOND THE HORIZON now — wlien it's all past and gone — and dead. You were tlie one I really loved — only I didn't come to tlie knowledge of it 'til too late. Andrew — [Stunved.] Ruth! Do you know what you're saying? \ Ruth — It was true — then. [With sudden fierce- 7iess.] How could I help it? No woman could. Andrew — Then — you loved me — that time I came home ? Ruth — Yes. Andrew — But — couldn't you see — I didn't love 3'ou — that way? Ruth — [Doggedly.] Yes — I saw then; but I'd known your real reason for leaving home the first time — everybody knew it — and for three years I'd been thinking Andrew — That I loved you? Ruth — Yes. Then that day on the hill you laughed about what a fool you'd been for loving me once — and I knew it was all over. Andrew — Good God, but I never thought [He stops, shuddering at his remembrance.] And did Rob Ruth — That was what I'd started to tell. We'd had a fight just before you came and I got crazy mad — and I told him all I've told you. Andrew — [Gaping at her speechlessly for a mo- ment.] You told Rob — 3'^ou loved me? Ruth — Yes. Andrew — [Shrinking away from her in horror.] BEYOND THE HORIZON 157 You — you — you mad fool, you! How could you do such a thing? Ruth — I couldn't help it. I'd got to the end of bearing things — without talking. Andrew — And the thought of the child — his child and yours — couldn't keep your mouth shut? Ruth — I was crazy mad at him — when I told. Andrew — Then Rob must have known every mo- ment I sta^^ed here ! And yet he never said or showed — God, how he must have suffered ! Didn't you know how much he loved you? Ruth — [Dulli/.] Yes. I knew he liked me. Andrew — Liked you! How can you talk in that cold tone — now — when he's dying! What kind of a woman are you? I'd never believe it was in you to be so Couldn't you have kept silent — no matter what you felt or thought? Did you have to torture him? No wonder he's dying. I don't see how he's lived through it as long as he has. I couldn't. No. I'd have killed myself — or killed you. Ruth — [Dull2/.] I wish he had — killed me. Andrew — And you've lived together for five years with this horrible secret between you? Ruth — We've lived in the same house — not as man and wife. Andrew — But what does he feel about it now? Tell me ! Does he still think Ruth — I don't know. We've never spoke a word about it since that day. Maybe, from the way he 158 BEYOND THE HORIZON went on, he s'poses I care for you yet. Maybe that's one reason he said what he did. Andrew — But you don't. You can't. It's out- rageous. It's stupid! You don't love me! Ruth — [Slowly.] I wouldn't know how to feel loA'e, even if I tried, any more. Andrew — [Brutallt/.] And I don't love you, that's sure ! [He sinks into his chair, his head between his hands.] It's damnable such a thing should be between Rob and me — we that have been pals ever since we were born, almost. Why, I love Rob better'n any- body in the world and always did. There isn't a thing on God's green earth I wouldn't have done to keep trouble away from him. And now I have to be the very one — it's damnable ! How am I going to face him again.'* What can I say to him now.'' [He groans with anguished rage. After a pause.] He asked me to promise — ^what am I going to do."* Ruth — You can promise — so's it'll ease his mind — and not mean anything. Andrew — What.? Lie to him now — when he's dying.'' Can you believe I'd descend as low as that? And there's no sense in my lying. He knows I don't love you. [Determinedly.] No! It's ^/o^^. who'll have to do the lying, since it must be done. Y^ou're the cause of all this. You've got to! Y'^ou've got a chance now to undo some of all the suffering you've brought on Rob. Go in to him ! Tell him you never loved me — it was all a mistake. Tell him you only said so because you were mad and didn't know what BEYOND THE HORIZON 159 you were saying, and you've been ashamed to own up to the truth before this. Tell him something, any- thing, that'll bring him peace and make him believe 3'ou've loved him all the time. Ruth — [Dully.] It's no good. He wouldn't be- lieve mc. Andrew — [Furiously.] You've got to make him believe you, do you hear? You've got to — now — hurry — you never know when it may be too late. [As she hesitates — imploringly.] For God's sake, Ruth! Don't you see you owe it to him.'' You'll never for- give yourself if you don't. Ruth — [Dully.] I'll go. [She gets wearily to her feet and walks slowly toward the bedroom.] But it won't do any good. [Andrew's eyes are fixed on her anxiously. She opens the door and steps inside the room. She remains standing there for a minute. The she calls in a frightened voice.] Rob ! Where are you.'* [Then she hurries bacJc, trembling with fright.] Andy! Andy! He's gone! Andrew — [Misunderstanding her — his face pale with dread.] He's not Ruth — [Interrupting him — hysterically.] He's gone! He isn't in there. The bed's empty. The window's wide open. He must have crawled out into the yard! Andrew — [Springing to his feet. He rushes into the bedroom and returns immediately with an expres- sion of alarmed amazement on his face.] Come! He 160 BEYOND THE HORIZON can't have gone far ! We've got to find him! [Grab- hlng his hat he takes Ruth's arm and shoves her J toward the door.] Come on! [Opening the door.] Let's hope to God [The door closes behind theviy cutting off his words as [The Curtain Falls] ACT THREE SCENE TWO Scene — Same as Act One, Scene One — A section of country highway. The sly to the east is already alight with bright color and a thin, quivering line of flame is spreading slowly along the horizon rim of the dark hills. The roadside, how- ever, is still steeped in the greyness of the dawn, shadowy and vague. The field in the foreground has a wild uncultivated appearance as if it had been allowed to remain fallow the preceeding summer. Parts of the snaJce-fence in the rear have been broJcen down. The apple tree is leafless and seems dead. Robert staggers weakly in from the left. He stumbles into the ditch and lies there for a mo- ment; then crawls with a great effort to the top of the bank where he can see the sun rise, and collapses weakly. Ruth and Andrew come hurriedly along the road from the left. Andrew — [Stopping and looking about him.] There he is ! I knew it ! I knew we'd find him here. Robert — [Trying to raise himself to a sitting 161 162 BEYOND THE HORIZON position as they hasten to his side — with a wan smile.] I thought I'd given you the slip. Andrew — [With hindly bullying.] Well yo^i didn't, you old scoundrel, and we're going to take you right back where j'ou belong — in bed. [He makes a motion to lift Robert.] What d'3'ou mean by running away like this, eh? Robert — Don't, Andy. Don't, I tell you ! I can't bear it! Andrew — You're in pain? Robert — [Simply.] No. I'm dying. [He falls back weakly. Ruth sinks down beside him with a sob and pillows his head on her lap.] Don't try to move me, Andy. It would mean . I had a bad hemor- rhage — trying to get here. I knew then — it was only — a few minutes more. [Andrew stands looking down at him helplessly. Robert moves his head rest- lessly on Ruth's lap.] There! Just so I can see — the sun. I couldn't stand it back there in the room. It seemed as if all my life — I'd been cooped in a room. So I thought I'd try to end as I might have — if I'd had the courage to live my dream. Alone — in a ditch by the open road — watching the sun rise. Andrew — Rob ! Don't talk. You're wasting your strength. Rest a while and then we'll carry you Robert — Still hoping, Andy? Don't. I know. [There is a pause during which he breathes heavily y straining his eyes toward the horizon.] The sun comes so slowly. I haven't long — to wait. [ With an ironical smile,] The doctor told me to go to the far-off places BEYOND THE HORIZON 163 — and I'd be cured. He was right. That was always the cure for me. It's too late — for this world — but in the next I'll not miss — the secret. [He has a fit of coughing which racks his bod?/.] Andrew — [With a hoarse sob.] Rob! [He clenches his fists in an impotent rage against fate.] God! God! [Ruth sobs brolcenly and wipes Robert's lips with her handkerchief .] Robert — [In a voice which is suddenly ringing with the happiness of hope.] You mustn't feel sorry for me. It's ridiculous ! Don't you see I'm happy at last — because I'm making a start to the far-off places — free — free! — freed from the fami^ — free to wander on and on — eternally! Even the hills are powerless to shut me in now. [He raises himself on his elbow, his face radiant, and points to the horizon.] Look ! Isn't it beautiful bcj^ond the hills? I can hear the old voices calling me to come [Exultantly.] And this time I'm going — I'm free ! It isn't the end. It's a free beginning — the start of my voyage ! Don't you see? I've won to my trip — the right of release — be^'^ond the horizon ! Oh, you ought to be glad — glad — for my sake! [He collapses weakly.] Andy! [Andrew bends down to him.] Remember Ruth Andrew — I'll take care of her, I swear to you, Rob! Robert — Ruth has suffered — and for your own sake and hers — remember, Andy — only through sacri- fice — the secret beyond there [He suddenly raises himself with his last remaining strength and 164 BEYOND THE HORIZON points to the horizon where the edge of the sun's disc is rising from the rim of the hills.] The sun! [He remains with his eyes fixed on it for a moment. A rattling noise throbs from his throat. He mumbles-'] Remember ! [And falls back and is still. Ruth gives a cry of horror and springs to her feet, shuddering, her hands over her eyes. Andrew bends on one knee beside the body, placing a hand over Robeet's hearty then he kisses his brother reverentially an the fore- head and stands up.] Andrew — [Facing Ruth, the body between them — in a dead voice.] He's dead. [With a sudden burst of fury.] God damn j^ou, you never told him ! Ruth — [Piteously.] He was so happy without my lying to him, Andrew — [Pointing to the body — trembling with the violence of his rage.] This is your doing, you damn woman, you coward, you murderess ! He's dead because you've killed him, do you hear ? Ruth — [Sobbing.] Don't, Andy! Stop! I couldn't help it — and he knew how I'd suffered, too. He told you — ^to remember. Andrew — [Stares at her for a moment, his rage ebbing away, an expression of deep pity gradually coming over his face. Then he glances down at his brother and speaks brokenly in a compassionate voice. ] Forgive me, Ruth — for his sake. I know he^ was right — and I'll remember what he said [Ruth lets her hands fall from her face and looks at him uncomprehendingly. He lifts his eyes to hers and BEYOND THE HORIZON 165 forces out falteringly:\ I — you — we've both made such a mess of things ! We must try to help each other — and — in time — we'll come to know what's right to do [Desperately. \ And perhaps we [But Ruth, if she is aware of his words, gives no sign. She remains silent, gazing at him dully with the sad humility of exhaustion, her mind already sinking back into that spent calm beyond the further troubling of any hope.] [The Curtain Falls\ i ■>', "^^: 0' .• ■^^ V^ ^o°<. ?> '^^.. -J iS> - -> v.' -C-' '» '^i f^ -<• ^» _ _ .0 5=- '^.. ^0 , V ■ \ -/ -^ N ^0 LIBRARY OF CONGRESS