Eugene O'Neill

“ I'm getting 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. ”

“ 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 planning 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 ruined our lives, damn it! ”

“ 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 from the truth. ”

“ 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. ”

“ 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 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! 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.] ”

“ The motor is heard starting and the noise gradually recedes into the distance. ANDREW re-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 doorway. His cheeks are flushed with fever, and his eyes appear unusually large and brilliant. ANDREW continues 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. ”

“ 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 forgive 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. Then she calls in a frightened voice.] Rob! Where are you? [Then she hurries back, trembling with fright.] Andy! Andy! He's gone! ”

“ RUTH wheels her mother off right. The noise of the motor grows louder and finally ceases as the car stops on the road before the farmhouse. RUTH returns from the kitchen with a 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. ”

“ 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— [Stolidly.] 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. ”

“ It's getting grey out.
ANDREW—Yes—pretty near. It's after six.
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.] ”

“ 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. ”

“ 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. ”

“ 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. ”