J. M. Barrie

“ It is such a silent room that whoever speaks first here is a bold one, unless indeed he merely mutters to himself, which they perhaps allow. All of this room’s past which can be taken away has gone. Such light as there is comes from the only window, which is at the back and is incompletely shrouded in sacking. For a moment this is a mellow light, and if a photograph could be taken quickly we might find a disturbing smile on the room’s face, perhaps like the Mona Lisa’s, which came, surely, of her knowing what only the dead should know. ”

“ The loveliest time of all will be when he is a man and takes me on his knee instead of my taking him on mine.
HARRY. Do you see who I am now?
MARY ROSE. Nice man.
HARRY. Is that all you know about me?
MARY ROSE. Yes.
HARRY. There is a name I would like to call you by, but my best course is not to worry you. Poor soul, I wonder if there was ever a man with a ghost on his knee before.
MARY ROSE. I don’t know.
HARRY. Seems to me you’re feared of being a ghost. I dare say, to a timid thing, being a ghost is worse than seeing them.
MARY ROSE. Yes.
HARRY. Is it lonely being a ghost? ”

“ MARY ROSE. It is a shame to be funny about my island. You poor, lonely isle. I never knew about your liking to be visited, and I dare say I shall never visit you any more. The last time of anything is always sad, don’t you think, Simon?
SIMON (briskly) . There must always be a last time, dearest dear.
MARY ROSE. Yes—I suppose—for everything. There must be a last time I shall see you, Simon. (Playing with his hair.) Some day I shall flatten this tuft for the thousandth time, and then never do it again. ”

“ If chintzes have faded, others as smiling have taken their place. The time is a crisp autumn afternoon just before twilight comes. The apple-tree, not so easy to renew as the chintzes, has become smaller, but there are a few gallant apples on it. The fire is burning, and round it sit Mr. and Mrs. Morland and Mr. Amy, the Morlands gone smaller like the apple-tree and Mr. Amy bulky, but all three on the whole still bearing their apples. Inwardly they have changed still less; hear them at it as of yore.
MR. MORLAND. What are you laughing over, Fanny? ”

“ The sun which has left the bleak hills beyond is playing hide and seek on it—one suddenly has the curious fancy to ask, with whom? A blessed spot it might be thought, rather than sinister, were there not those two trees, a fir and a rowan, their arms outstretched for ever southward, as if they had been struck while in full flight and could no longer pray to their gods to carry them away from this island. A young Highlander, a Cameron, passes in a boat at the back. Mary Rose and Simon come into view on the island. ”

“ It is a celestial music that is calling for Mary Rose, Mary Rose, first in whispers and soon so loudly that, for one who can hear, it is the only sound in the world. Mary Rose, Mary Rose. As it wraps her round, the weary little ghost knows that her long day is done. Her face is shining. The smallest star shoots down as if it were her star sent for her, and with her arms stretched forth to it trustingly she walks out through the window into the empyrean. The music passes with her. HARRY hears nothing, but he knows that somehow a prayer has been answered. ”

“ HARRY. It’s as if nobody wanted you, either there or here.
MARY ROSE. Yes. (She rises.) Bad man.
HARRY. It’s easy to call me names, but the thing fair beats me. There is nothing I wouldn’t do for you, but a mere man is so helpless. How should the likes of me know what to do with a ghost that has lost her way on earth? I wonder if what it means is that you broke some law, just to come back for the sake of—of that Harry? If it was that, it’s surely time He overlooked it. ”

“ MARY ROSE. But you can tie up marmalade. Why don’t you scream with happiness? One of us has got to scream.
SIMON. Then I know which one it will be. Scream away, it will give Cameron the jumps.
(CAMERON draws in.)
There you are, Cameron. We are still safe, you see. You can count us—two.
[92] CAMERON. I am ferry glad.
SIMON. Here you are. (Handing him the luncheon basket.) You needn’t tie the boat up. Stay there and I’ll stamp out the fire myself.
CAMERON. As Mr. Blake pleases.
SIMON. Ready, Mary Rose?
MARY ROSE. I must say good-bye to my island first. Good-bye, old mossy seat, nice rowan. ”

“ It is only delightful ladies at the most agreeable age who have this personal way with their belongings. Among MRS. MORLAND’S friends in the room are several of whom we have already heard, such as the blue curtains from which HARRY pounced upon the castaway, the sofa on which he had his first swimming lessons, the peacock on the wall, the clock with the smart smith ready to step out and strike his anvil, and the apple-tree is in full blossom at the open window, one of its branches has even stepped into the room. ”

“ If there is anything strange about this girl of eighteen who steps from the tree into the room, it is an elusiveness of which she is unaware. It has remained hidden from her girl friends, though in the after years, in the brief space before they forget her, they will probably say, because of what happened, that there was always something a little odd about MARY ROSE. This oddness might be expressed thus, that the happiness and glee of which she is almost overfull know of another attribute of her that never plays with them. ”

“ MARY ROSE. Whatever are they afraid of?
CAMERON. That iss what I say to them. Whateffer are you afraid of, I say.
MARY ROSE. But what are you afraid of, Mr. Cameron?
CAMERON. The same thing that they are afraid of. There are stories, ma’am.
MARY ROSE. Do tell us; Simon, wouldn’t it be lovely if he would tell us some misty, eerie Highland stories?
SIMON. I don’t know; not unless they are pretty ones.
MARY ROSE. Please, Mr. Cameron! I love to have my blood curdled.
CAMERON. There iss many stories. There iss that one of the boy who was brought to this island. He was no older than your baby. ”

“ The wall-paper, heavy in the adherence of other papers of a still older date, has peeled and leans forward here and there in a grotesque bow, as men have hung in chains; one might predict that the next sound heard here will be in the distant future when another piece of paper loosens. ”

“ Save for two packing-cases, the only furniture [4] is a worn easy-chair doddering by the unlit fire, like some foolish old man. We might play with the disquieting fancy that this room, once warm with love, is still alive but is shrinking from observation, and that with our departure they cunningly set to again at the apparently never-ending search which goes on in some empty old houses. ”

“ Some one is heard clumping up the stair, and the caretaker enters. It is not she, however, who clumps; she has been here for several years, and has become sufficiently a part of the house to move noiselessly in it. The first thing we know about her is that she does not like to be in this room. She is an elderly woman of gaunt frame and with a singular control over herself. There may be some one, somewhere, who can make her laugh still, one never knows, but the effort would hurt her face. ”

“ There is nothing splendid about MARY ROSE, never can she become one of those secret women so much less innocent than she, yet perhaps so much sweeter in the kernel, who are the bane or glory, or the bane and glory, of greater lovers than she could ever understand. ”

“ I have sometimes thought that our girl is curiously young for her age—as if—you know how just a touch of frost may stop the growth of a plant and yet leave it blooming—it has sometimes seemed to me as if a cold finger had once touched my Mary Rose. ”

“ We see an extraordinary change in you, Simon.
SIMON (eagerly) . Have you noticed that? Mary Rose has noticed it too. That is my inner man coming out. (Carefully.) To some young people marriage is a thing to be entered on lightly, but that is not my style. What I want is to give up larks, and all that, and insure my life, and read the political articles. ”

“ CAMERON. That iss so, sir. I have sometimes thought——
(There is a gleeful clattering on the stairs of some one to whom they must be familiar; and if her father and mother have doubted they know now before they see her that MARY ROSE has come back. She enters. She is just as we saw her last except that we cannot see her quite so clearly. She is leaping towards her mother in the old impulsive way and the mother responds in her way, but something steps between them.) ”

“ SIMON. All right. Tell me, what were you thinking as you sat up there in the apple-room, waiting?
MARY ROSE. Holy things.
SIMON. About love?
(She nods.)
MARY ROSE. We’ll try to be good, won’t we, Simon, please?
SIMON. Rather. Honest Injun, we’ll be nailers. Did you think of—our wedding-day?
MARY ROSE. A little.
SIMON. Only a little?
MARY ROSE. But frightfully clearly. (Suddenly.) Simon, I had such a delicious idea about our honeymoon. There is a place in Scotland—in the Hebrides—I should love to go there.
SIMON (taken aback) . The Hebrides? ”

“ MR. MORLAND and the local clergyman are chatting importantly about some matter of no importance, while MRS. MORLAND is on her sofa at the other side of the room, coming into the conversation occasionally with a cough or a click of her needles, which is her clandestine way of telling her husband not to be so assertive to his guest. They are all [20] middle-aged people who have found life to be on the whole an easy and happy adventure, and have done their tranquil best to make it so for their neighbours. ”

“ SIMON. Games?
(She nods.)
Rather. Why, I’ll go on playing rugger myself. Lots of married people play games.
MARY ROSE (relieved) . I’m glad; Simon, do you love me?
SIMON. Dearest—precious—my life—my sweetheart. Which name do you like best?
MARY ROSE. I’m not sure. They are all very nice. (She is conscious of the ceiling.) Oughtn’t we to knock to those beloveds to come down?
SIMON. Please don’t. I know a lot about old people, darling. I assure you they don’t mind very much sitting in dull places.
MARY ROSE. We mustn’t be selfish.
[53] SIMON. Honest Injun, is isn’t selfishness. ”

“ He is visible on the other side of the darkness, in the little passage and opening the door beyond. He returns, and now we see the pale ghost of MARY ROSE standing in the middle of the room, as if made out of the light he has brought back with him.)
[130] MARY ROSE (bowing to him timidly) . Have you come to buy the house?
HARRY (more startled by his own voice than by hers) . Not me.
MARY ROSE. It is a very nice house. (Doubtfully.) Isn’t it?
HARRY. It was a nice house once.
MARY ROSE (pleased) . Wasn’t it! (Suspiciously.) Did you know this house?
HARRY. When I was a young shaver. ”

“ Be nice to me, Simon. Be nice to me, dear Simon, and tell me.
SIMON. Dearest love, since I lost you—it was a long time ago——
MARY ROSE (petulant) . It wasn’t—please, it wasn’t. (She goes to her mother.) Tell me, my mother dear.
MR. MORLAND. I don’t know what she wants to be told.
MRS. MORLAND. I know.
MARY ROSE (an unhappy child) . Where is my baby?
(They cannot face her, and she goes to seek an answer from the room that lies beyond the little door. Her mother and husband follow her.
MR. MORLAND and CAMERON left alone are very conscious of what may be going on in that inner room.) ”

“ You know, the loveliest thing in the world is the navy, and the loveliest thing in the navy is H.M.S. Valiant, and the loveliest thing on H.M.S. Valiant is Lieutenant Simon Sobersides, and the loveliest thing on Lieutenant Simon Sobersides is the little tuft of hair which [64] will keep standing up at the back of his head. ”

“ The man who has clumped up the stairs in her wake is a young Australian soldier, a private, such as in those days you met by the dozen in any London street, slouching along it forlornly if alone, with sudden stoppages to pass the time (in which you ran against him) , or in affable converse with a young lady. ”

“ MR. AMY. I say definitely a Gainsborough.
MR. MORLAND. Definitely not a Gainsborough.
(By this time the needles have entered [25] into the controversy, but they are disregarded.)
I should say the work of a clever amateur.
MR. AMY. Look at the drawing of the cart and the figure beside it.
MR. MORLAND. Weak and laboured. Look at that horse.
MR. AMY. Gainsborough did some very funny horses.
MR. MORLAND. Granted, but he never placed them badly. That horse destroys the whole balance of the composition.
MR. AMY. James, I had no idea you had such a small nature. ”

“ They are not without an opponent. Struggling through them, and also calling her name, is to be heard music of an unearthly sweetness that is seeking perhaps to beat them back and put a girdle of safety round her. Once MARY ROSE’S arms go out to her husband for help, but thereafter she is oblivious of his existence. Her face is rapt, but there is neither fear nor joy in it. Thus she passes from view. The island immediately resumes its stillness. The sun has gone down. SIMON by the [94] fire and CAMERON in the boat have heard nothing. ”

“ You are always [24] speaking about your flair; I suppose I can have a little flair sometimes too.
MR. MORLAND. I am not always speaking about my flair, and I don’t believe it is a Gainsborough.
MR. AMY (with dignity) . Please don’t get hot, James. If I had thought you would grudge me my little find—which you missed—I wouldn’t have brought it to show you.
(With shocking exultation he produces a roll of paper.)
MR. MORLAND (backing from it) . So that’s it.
MR. AMY. This is it. (The squire has to examine it like a Christian.) There! I have the luck this time. I hope you will have it next. ”

“ SIMON (obeying) . I am not the man to break my word. At the same time, Mary Rose, I would point out to you that this is the third spot you have picked out as being the place, and three times have I kissed you quick on that understanding. This can’t go on, you know. As for your wonderful island, it turns out to be about the size of the Round Pond. ”

“ You are a brave one, you have come through much, you will be brave for another minute, won’t you?
(She nods, with a frightened smile.)
Mother dear, it is Mary Rose.
MR. MORLAND. It can’t be true. It is too—too glorious to be true.
MRS. MORLAND. Glorious? Is my Mary Rose alive?
SIMON. It is all right, all right. I wouldn’t say it, surely, if it wasn’t true. Mary Rose [116] has come back. The telegram is from Cameron. You remember who he was. He is minister there now. Hold my hand, and I’ll read it. ‘Your wife has come back. She was found to-day on the island. I am bringing her to you. ”

“ Do you think Simon is a philosopher about it also?
MRS. MORLAND. Don’t be bitter, James, to your old wife. Simon was very fond of her. He was a true lover.
MR. MORLAND. Was, was! Is it all ‘was’ about Mary Rose?
MRS. MORLAND. It just has to be. He had all the clever ones of the day advising, suggesting, probing. He went back to the island every year for a long time.
MR. MORLAND. Yes, and then he missed a year, and that somehow ended it.
MRS. MORLAND. He never married again. Most men would. ”