Elizabeth Stuart Phelps

“ Thorne covers his face. The music ceases. The air grows dimmer than twilight. But there is no moon, nor is it dark. The groups in the foreground move away in quiet happiness, like those who have had their heart’s wish granted.)
(Harvey, Mrs. True, Norah, Jerry, and Maidie mingle with the other spirits.)
(Mrs. Fayth rises from her knees; melts slowly in the dusk.)
(Laddie runs into the grove, and disappears in the gloom. He acts as if looking for some one.) ”

“ Thorne. My husband has no time to study these questions, Mary. All his life is given up to science, you know. I thought—when we were first married—I could influence him in these ways. But a doctor’s wife learns better than that.
Mrs. Fayth. What he needs is to be half-dead. Then he would have to believe. He is too much alive, poor Doctor.... It is such a joy to be alive, Helen! ”

“ Dr. Thorne (imperiously) . Don’t you suppose I know how to drive? You’re always having opinions of your own against mine. There! I must be off.—Where’s the boy, Helen? Where’s Laddie?
Mrs. Thorne (gently) . Laddie isn’t just right, somehow, Esmerald. I hated to bother you, for you never think it’s anything. Molly is with him. I’ve been a little troubled about him. He has cried all the afternoon.
Dr. Thorne. He cries because you coddle him! It is all nonsense, Helen. Nothing ails the child. ”

“ It is worse to remember than to forget. I have it now—the sweetest woman of them all—Helen’s friend—the gentlest, the most obedient, most trustful, the bravest patient I ever had—Mrs. Fayth. I saw her face as the carriage went over.... She stretched out her hands, and said: “Doctor!” It was Mary Fayth. (His face falls into his hands. For a moment he sinks down on the wreck of the buggy; but springs up.) Now that accounts for it.—The crowd are all there. The accident was so bad nobody has thought of me. She is the victim. I have escaped. Dead or alive, she is done for. ”

“ Laddie. Don’t be stupid, because you’re dead! That is a flower. (Picks a flower in the shape of a butterfly with jeweled wings; hands it to the girl.) No, it won’t fly. It isn’t grown up yet.
Maidie. Shall I fly when I’m grown up? I’ve got wings, too. (Shows her feet, on the heels of which a tiny pair of wings appear.)
Laddie (jealously) . I didn’t know you had them. That’s why you can jump over things and get ahead of me.
Enter Dr. Thorne and Mrs. Fayth.
Mrs. Fayth. Doctor, I don’t know what ails me. Perhaps it’s a symptom—a moral symptom—but I can’t help thinking of Cleo. ”

“ It may be years before I can see her face—twenty years—thirty— (groaning) —Whence came the love of man and woman, that it should outlive the laws of Nature, and defy dissolution, and outlast the body, and curse or bless the spirit? If love can live, anything can live. ”

“ Dr. Thorne (tremulously) . My patients! Isn’t there one of you who knows me?{53} Doesn’t anybody hear me? Don’t cry so! All the symptoms will be worse for it.
The dying patient. Doctor? Doctor?
Dr. Thorne. That sounds like Norah.
Priest (recites behind the screen at Norah’s bedside the prayer for the passing soul) . “Proficiscere, anima Christiana, de hoc mundo, in nomine Dei Patris omnipotentis, qui te creavit; in nomine Jesu Christi Filii Dei vivi, qui pro te passus est; in nomine Spiritus Sancti”—
Dr. Thorne (softly) . Thank you, Father. ”

“ Books run to the ceiling. The carpet is indeterminate in tone. The heavy curtains are of a rich, dark crimson. A window is to be seen. The library is littered a little with the signs of feminine occupation. At one of the tables sits Mrs. Thorne. She is a young and beautiful woman, of stately presence and modest, high-bred manner. She is well-dressed—but not over-dressed—in a tea-gown such as a lady might wear in her own home when guests are not expected. ”

“ Papa! Papa! I went to pick a lily, and I picked a bird! Oh, Papa, what a pretty country!
Dr. Thorne (smiling in spite of himself) . Come here, my lad. (Caresses the child with pathetic gratitude.) If it were not for you, little man— (Bows his face on the child’s head.)
(The twilight changes slowly to moonlight.) {116}
Laddie (restlessly) . I must go find Maidie and show her my white bird. They didn’t grow in her street.
Dr. Thorne (anxiously) . Don’t go far, my child. You might lose your way.
Laddie (with a peal of laughter) . We never lose our way in this nice country. ”

“ Harvey. Precisely. You are very ignorant—for a man of your gifts. Now, our hospitals—
Dr. Thorne. Pray do not mock me, Doctor Harvey. If you had a hospital, you could find me something to do. The{114} humiliating idleness of this place crushes me. I seem to be of no more use here than a paralytic patient was in my own charity ward at home. I am become of no more social importance than the janitor or the steward used to be. I am of no consequence. I am not in demand. No person desires my services. The canker of idleness eats upon me. ”

“ Some throw themselves on the ground in humility. Some seem to be entreating a benediction. But the figure of Him who passes by them remains invisible. The excitement now increases, and extends along the group of spirits until it reaches those in the foreground. Here can now be seen and recognized some old patients of Dr. Thorne’s—Mrs. True, Norah, and Jerry.)
(These wear the golden cross upon the breast. Harvey enters unnoticed, and mingles with the crowd. He stands behind{130} Mrs. Fayth, who remains rapt and mute, full in the light. She has forgotten Dr. Thorne.) ”

“ At a distance, upon a hill, are outlines of graceful architecture. A narrow brook can be seen, with strange shells upon its little banks. There are no highways visible. Foot-worn walks and paths, trodden through the grass, intersperse the landscape. The grass, however, springs afresh beneath the foot, and is not crushed or sear. Annunciation lilies and scarlet passion-flowers grow in the foreground. ”

“ I never heard a bluebell ring in that other place, did you?
Second Child. I never saw one on our street.... Oh, mine rings, too!... Say! Are these angels? I never saw an angel either, in our street.
(The Children wander away and mingle with the groups of spirits. They ring the bluebells as they go. The tintinnabulation is drowned in orchestral music, which can be heard from a distance. The theme is from Beethoven’s Seventh Symphony. Certain of the spirits listen attentively, and move towards the music. Certain others continue to talk happily, and stir among the trees.)
Enter Dr. Thorne. ”

“ Thorne. Too bad! I gave special orders to Jane—that is really too bad. Let me send it away.
Dr. Thorne (excitedly) . No, I’ve got to get down something. Bring on the rest—if there is anything fit to eat. I’m due at the Hospital in twenty-two minutes. Gazell is behaving like the devil. If I’m not to handle him, nobody can. The whole staff is afraid of him—everybody but me. We sha’n’t get the new ward built these two years if he carries the day to-night. I’ve got a consultation at Decker’s. The old lady is dying. It’s no use dragging a tired man out there; I can’t do her any good. ”

“ If you have anything whatever in the shape of a hospital, I beg you to find me employment in it. At least, I could keep the temperature charts, if I am not to be trusted with any cases.
Harvey (smiling sadly) . Your cure proceeds but slowly, my patient. I did not think you were a dull man. Must you be taught the elements? Our sick are not of the body, but are sick of soul. Our patients are chiefly from among the newly arrived who are at odds with the spirit of the place; hence, they suffer discomfort. ”

“ Dr. Thorne (gasps, and stares at Mrs. Fayth. He tries to speak, but can only articulate) . You died an hour ago? And I? And I?
Mrs. Fayth (still smiling, with her sweet, mysterious smile) . Don’t take it so hard, doctor. I came to ex-plain it to you. Why, it’s the most beautiful thing in the world! (Glides away slowly, but smiling to the last.)
Dr. Thorne (throws up his arms in anguish) . I am dead! My God! I am a dead man!{56}
(His face falls into his hands, his whole body collapses slowly, he drops.)
End of Scene I.
SCENE II.
It is night on a street in the West End of the city. ”

“ Take a cross man,—any cross man,—say a brother, or a husband, or even a doctor, and if he carried it too far, just call on Dr. Carver. Why, it would revolutionize society. And he is so expert! He doesn’t mind it any more than carving a goo—oose. Yes, sir! I’m coming. (Demurely obedient; hurries to Dr. Gazell.)
(Second Nurse moves to the rear of the ward to a patient behind a screen.) {48}
(Dr. Thorne advances slowly; stands in the middle of the ward, unnoticed.)
Patient No. 21 (louder) . I say, when a man’s dead is the time to speak for him. ”

“ Mrs. Fayth. It’s just what Helen would like. She hates palaces.
Dr. Thorne (starts as if stabbed; makes no reply) .
Laddie (suddenly) . Oh, Papa, Mrs. Fayth’s got wings on her feet, too. Her dress covers them up. I like her better than I did that lady you were so cross to.
Mrs. Fayth (laughing) . I am so well!—oh, so well! I am a-shamed to be so happy! I walk on air. I float on clouds. I move on waves. All nature seems to be{125} under my feet, and her glory in my heart.... Poor Doctor! ”

“ A message was dispatched to the elegant residence of the popular doctor.{40} Mrs. Thorne is a young and beautiful woman, on whom, with their only child, an infant son, this blow falls with uncommon cruelty.”
Dr. Thorne (utters a long, heartrending moan. But no person hears the sound. He stretches out his hands. The crowd shrinks from but does not see him. Staring at the bulletin, he stands apart. He raises his clenched right hand in the air; speaks) . It is a dastardly lie! It is one of those cursed canards manufactured to harass men—and—break the hearts of women. ”

“ Roses are many. Flowers unknown to the botanies of earth are frequent; and among those to which we are used, it will be noticed that the blossoms of the tropics and of the North countries flourish side by side. The whole impression is one of delight and beauty. The sky has a misty softness, and the atmosphere is capable of taking on (and takes on) sudden{78} and subtle changes of effect. ”

“ Where love is never cold?” ...
(As they sing, the fair country brightens subtly, and all the heavenly scene is radiant. The moving groups of spirits seem to be joining in the song.)
(Dr. Thorne and his Wife, turning, look into one another’s faces. They do not speak.)
(Now, delicately, it shall be seen to darken on the bright land, and a holy half-light touches every outline.)
(The Child leaves his parents. He walks a few steps away, shading his eyes with{148} one hand, as if he saw invisible glory; in the other hand he carries the annunciation lily.) ”

“ Norah (anxiously) . Doctor? Doctor! (She climbs on, but looks back, beckoning.)
Dr. Thorne (pays no attention to Norah. Retraces his steps down the narrow path) . Come what may, I will not go any further from Helen. I’ll perish first, in this unearthly place. (He continues to descend; stands lost in thought. The storm darkens round him, but lightens beyond him. At the summit dim outlines can be seen again. These brighten faintly.) {72}
(Norah reaches her arms towards them; climbs on.)
Dr. Thorne. It was something to be in the same world with Helen. ”

“ Thorne. Helen, I must have an end{19} to this nonsense! Nothing ails Laddie. He is only a trifle feverish, with a little toothache—possibly there’s a slight cold. The child should be out of the nursery. He will sleep better for the change. Let him stay awhile—and don’t make a fool of yourself over him. It really is very unpleasant to me that you make such a fuss every time he is ailing. If you had married a green grocer, it might have been pardonable. Pray remember that you have married a physician who understands his business, and do leave me to manage it.... ”

“ There’s me father! Why, Father, Father dear! (Caresses Jerry affectionately.) {91}
Jerry. Och! wisha, wisha! Norah, me darlint! (Returns her caresses tenderly.) What luck for the likes of us arrivin’ emigrants thegither in this agra-able counthree!
Norah (puts her arm in his) . Come yonder wid me, Father. (Draws him away.)
Jerry (looks back over his shoulder at Dr. Thorne) . Is it to confession we do be goin’, Norah?—the wan av us arrivin’ be way of a murdherin’ doctor, and the wan be way av a murdherin’ trolley! I’m thinkin’, sir, it’s niver a cint to choose bechune. ”

“ Many people are passing, among them the Priest, the Suburban, and the Loafer. A crowd thickens before the bulletin boards of “The Earth,” a prominent daily newspaper. At the extreme left are the headquarters of “The Universe,” a rival paper. Not far from “The Earth” building can be seen the modest sign of the eminent physician:—
DR. ESMERALD THORNE.
Office Hour 12-1 o’clock. ”

“ Picturesquely visible among the trees of a grove appears a small, rustic cottage, curiously interwoven of bark, vines, boughs, leaves, and flowers—a building which seems to have grown from the conditions and the colors of the grove. ”