Delphi Collected Works of W. Somerset Maugham (Illustrated)

by William Somerset Maugham

  [She gets up and walks out through the French windows. Cobbett follows her.

  Mrs. Insoley.

  [Getting up from the table.] I think you should remember, my dear Grace, that suicide is not only very wicked, but very cowardly. I have no patience with the sentimentalities of the present day. Our fathers buried people who were sinful enough to destroy themselves at the cross-roads with a stake in their insides. And it served them right.

  [Grace does not answer. Mrs. Insoley, with a shrug of the shoulders, walks out of the room, followed by Miss Hall. As soon as Grace hears the door shut she turns round with an exclamation, half-smothered, of impatient anger.

  Grace.

  Oh, did you hear? They have the heart to chatter like that when that unhappy girl is lying dead. They haven’t a word of pity. It seems to mean nothing to them that she sacrificed herself. If she died, it was to save her father, so that he shouldn’t be thrown out of work in his old age. And they call her wicked and sinful.

  Miss Vernon.

  But is that anything new to you? Haven’t you noticed that people always rather resent the heroism of others? They don’t like the claim it makes on them, and the easiest way to defend themselves is with a sneer.

  Grace.

  I might have saved her life if I’d chosen, but I hadn’t the courage.

  Miss Vernon.

  [Afraid that she is going to blurt out a secret which had much better not be referred to.] Grace, don’t be stupid.

  Grace.

  Once I suspected what she was going to do, but she was too clever for me. I so wanted to believe it was all right. I wanted her to go away quietly.

  Miss Vernon.

  [Trying to calm her.] Lots of women have been in difficulties before, and they haven’t killed themselves. There must have been some kink in her nature. I suppose the instinct of life wasn’t so strong as it is with most of us, and — and she would have committed suicide for almost any reason.

  Grace.

  There was only one thing to say, and I didn’t say it. I couldn’t.

  Miss Vernon.

  My dear, for heaven’s sake pull yourself together.

  Grace.

  D’you know why Claude was so determined she should go? Because he couldn’t bear that I should come in contact with a woman who’d done wrong.

  Miss Vernon.

  [Looking down.] I had an idea that was at the back of his mind.

  Grace.

  [With sudden suspicion.] Why should you know what Claude feels better than I do?

  Miss Vernon.

  [Fearing she has given herself away.] It was a mere guess on my part.

  Grace.

  [With a keen look at her.] When I asked you the other day whether you’d been very much in love with Claude, you wouldn’t answer.

  Miss Vernon.

  [Smiling.] I really thought it was no business of yours.

  Grace.

  [Gravely.] Are you in love with him still?

  [Miss Vernon is about to break out indignantly, but quickly controls herself.

  Miss Vernon.

  Yes, I suppose I am.

  Grace.

  Much?

  Miss Vernon.

  Hoarsely.] Yes.

  [There is a pause.

  Grace.

  D’you know that my mother-in-law would give half her fortune to know — what you know? She’s been on the look-out to trip me up for years. It only wants a hint, and she can be trusted to make the most of it.

  Miss Vernon.

  My dear, I haven’t a notion what you’re talking about.

  Grace.

  [With a shrug of the shoulders.] How did you find out?

  [Miss Vernon looks at her for a moment, then looks away in embarrassment.

  Miss Vernon.

  I suspected before. In those circumstances hardly any men seem able to help a sort of proprietary air. He rather gave it away, you know.... And then yesterday I felt quite certain.

  Grace.

  I’m in your hands. What are you going to do?

  Miss Vernon.

  My dear, what can I do? Claude wouldn’t love me more because he loved you less.

  Grace.

  You must utterly despise me.

  Miss Vernon.

  No.... I feel awfully sorry for Claude.

  Grace.

  [Almost jealously.] Claude’s your first thought always.

  Miss Vernon.

  He’s been the whole world to me since I was a girl of sixteen.

  Grace.

  Is that why you never married?

  Miss Vernon.

  I suppose it is.

  Grace.

  I never dreamt that anyone could care for Claude like that. I suppose you see something in him that I’ve never seen.... He has a hundred different ways of getting on my nerves.

  Miss Vernon.

  You see, I’m not irritated by the mannerisms that irritate you.

  Grace.

  [Reflectively.] Real love accepts them, I suppose.

  Miss Vernon.

  It wants them even because it’s something individual to cling to.... And then it laughs at them a little, and the best love of all includes a sense of humour.

  Grace.

  It’s made me feel so strange to know that you love him, Helen. It’s given him something that he’s never had before.

  Miss Vernon.

  I don’t suppose any woman likes her husband less because she knows that another woman is eating her heart out for him.

  Grace.

  [Slowly.] I wonder if I’ve misjudged him all these years.... D’you think I found him shallow because there was no depth in me, and narrow because I was narrow myself.

  [Enter Claude Insoley. Grace turns to him quickly.

  Grace.

  Did you see Gann?

  Claude.

  [Touching the bell.] No, he wasn’t at the cottage. I’ve sent for him and told him to come here.

  Grace.

  They know where he is then?

  Claude.

  Yes, worse luck. He’s been soaking at the public-house since it opened.

  Miss Vernon.

  But when did it happen?

  Claude.

  Peggy, d’you mean? She did it last night.

  Grace.

  Last night? But why have we only just heard of it?

  Claude.

  [Deeply discouraged.] Because they don’t come to us any more when they’re in trouble. They keep it to themselves.

  [Moore answers the bell.

  Claude.

  Oh, Moore, when Gann comes let me know. I’ll come and see him at once.

  Moore.

  He’s here now, sir.

  Claude.

  Is he? I didn’t expect him yet. All right.

  Grace.

  Won’t you let him come here, Claude? I should like to speak to him too.

  Claude.

  I don’t think you’d better see him if he’s been drinking. He may be going to make himself rather objectionable.

  Grace.

  I must say to him what I’ve got on my heart, Claude.

  Claude.

  Very well. [To Moore.] Tell Gann to come here.

  Moore.

  Very good, sir.

  [Exit.

  Miss Vernon.

  I dare say you’d like me to leave you.

  Grace.

  You don’t mind, do you?

  [With a shake of the head and a smile Miss Vernon goes out. Claude looks a little uncertainly at his wife. He seeks for something to say.

  Claude.

  What a nice woman that is! I can’t imagine why Archibald doesn’t hurry up and marry her.

  Grace.

  Perhaps he’s not in love with her.

  Claude.

  Any man in his senses would be in love with her.

  [Grace does not answer, but she gives him a curious glance. Moore opens the door to show Gann in. Gann is dishevelled and untidy, his face ha
ggard and drawn. He is not exactly drunk, but he is stupefied, partly with liquor and partly with grief. He carries his gun. He comes in, his cap on his head, and stands clumsily near the door.

  Claude.

  Take off your cap, Gann.

  [Gann looks at him unsteadily and slowly takes off his cap.

  Gann.

  Did you want to speak to me, Squire?

  Claude.

  I’ve just been round to your cottage, Gann. I saw Peggy.... I want to tell you how awfully sorry I am for what’s happened. I can never forgive myself.

  [Gann steps forward with a lurch and faces Claude.

  Gann.

  What d’you want me for? Couldn’t you let me be? D’you still want me to go?

  Claude.

  No. That’s what I wanted to tell you.

  Gann.

  Give us time and we’ll clear. We don’t want long. Give us time to bury the girl. That’s all we want.

  [Grace gives an exclamation of horror.

  Claude.

  I hope you’ll stay. I want to do everything I can to make up for your loss. I want you to know that I blame myself most awfully.

  Gann.

  Will that bring ‘er back to life, d’you think?

  Claude.

  I’d give anything for this horrible accident not to have happened. [With a look at Grace.] I’m afraid it’s my fault.

  Gann.

  She killed ‘erself so as I shouldn’t be turned off. That’s why she killed ‘erself. You’re a hard master — you always was. She thought it was the only way to save me from the work’us.

  Claude.

  [Very awkwardly.] In future I’ll try to be different. I didn’t think I was hard. I thought I was only just.

  Grace.

  It was a cruel rule.

  Claude.

  I thought I was only doing my duty.

  Gann.

  She was a good girl, after all, Squire, a good girl.

  Claude.

  I’m sure she was.

  Gann.

  It’s easy enough for you people to keep straight. You don’t ‘ave temptations like we ‘ave.

  Claude.

  No, that’s true enough. I suppose it’s not really very hard for us to be moderately decent.

  Grace.

  [In a choking voice.] Where is the child now, Gann?

  Gann.

  [Violently.] D’you want that too? Ain’t you satisfied yet? Has the child got to go before I stay?

  Grace.

  No, no. I only wanted to know if there was anything I could do. I wanted to help you.

  Gann.

  I don’t want your ‘elp. I only want you to let me work and earn my wages.

  Claude.

  That you shall do, I promise you.

  Gann.

  Can I go now? I’ve got a deal to do this morning.

  Claude.

  Yes.... Will you shake hands with me before you go?

  Gann.

  What good’ll that do you?

  [Claude gives a gesture of discouragement.

  Claude.

  I can only repeat that I’m most awfully sorry. I’m afraid there’s absolutely nothing I can do to make up for your great loss.... You can go now.

  [Gann turns to go, while Claude and Grace watch him silently. Suddenly he comes back and thrusts his gun into Claude’s hand.

  Gann.

  Look ’ere, Squire, you take my gun. I ain’t fit to keep it.

  Claude.

  [Sharply.] What the devil d’you mean?

  Gann.

  Last night when the liquor was in me I swore I’d blow your brains out and swing for it. Don’t let me ‘ave the gun. I’m not fit to keep it yet. If I get on the drink again I’ll kill you.

  Claude.

  What the dickens d’you mean by speaking to me like that! Of course you must have your gun. I can’t allow you to neglect your work.

  Grace.

  [Almost in a whisper.] Claude, take care.

  Claude.

  [Looking at the lock.] Why isn’t it loaded?

  Gann.

  They took the cartridges out. I was about mad, and I don’t know what I said. If I’d come across you then — you wouldn’t be standing where you are now.

  Claude.

  I suppose you take eights?

  [Grace and Gann both look at him. Grace gives a start when she realises what he is going to do.

  Gann.

  That’s right.

  [Claude nods and goes to the door. He hesitates, with a look at Grace.

  Grace.

  I shall be all right.

  [He goes out. In a moment he comes back with two cartridges. He puts them in the gun, and hands it back to the gamekeeper.

  Claude.

  Here you are. I don’t think I’m afraid. I’ll take my chance of your wanting to shoot me.

  [Gann takes the gun, and his hands close round it convulsively. He half raises it. Claude goes to the door through which he has just come, and closes it. Then, almost mastered by the temptation, Gann pulls himself together and advances a step towards his master. Grace gives a stifled cry. Claude turns round and faces the man.

  Claude.

  That’ll do, Gann. I don’t think I have anything more to say to you. You can go.

  [Gann struggles to command himself. His fingers itch to shoot, but Claude’s unconcern prevents him.

  Gann.

  By God!

  [He turns round to go, and flings the gun violently from him.

  Claude.

  [Peremptorily.] Gann, take your gun.

  [The man stops, looks at his master, and then, cowed, picks it up. He lurches heavily out of the room. There is a pause. Grace draws a long breath.

  Grace.

  I’m glad you did that, Claude.

  Claude.

  [Thinking she refers to his attempts at apology.] It was very difficult to know what to say to him.

  Grace.

  I didn’t mean that. I meant, I’m glad you made him take the gun.

  Claude.

  Oh! Hang it all, you didn’t think I was likely to be frightened of one of my own servants, did you?

  Grace.

  [In a low voice.] I was rather afraid he was going to shoot you.

  Claude.

  So was I. But I felt pretty sure he saw two of me, and I thought he’d probably shoot at the wrong one.

  Grace.

  You’re very plucky.

  Claude.

  Rot! [He hesitates for a moment.] Grace, I’m afraid you think I’ve been an awful skunk.

  Grace.

  [With a quick look at him.] We none of us knew anything like this was going to happen.

  Claude.

  Will you forgive me?

  Grace.

  [Startled.] I?

  Claude.

  I’ve been feeling such an awful cad. If I’d only done what you wanted me to, this wouldn’t have happened.

  Grace.

  That’s not your fault. I didn’t say — what I should have said to make you change your mind.

  Claude.

  It rather put my back up that you should be so set on letting Peggy stay. But it struck me afterwards, of course you couldn’t feel the same about it as I did. I think if one’s awfully straight, one’s full of charity, don’t you know.

  Grace.

  My dear Claude, you talk as if I were a girl of eighteen.

  Claude.

  I don’t suppose you remember, but when Archibald told us, I wanted to say something to you....

  Grace.

  Yes, your first thought was for me, wasn’t it?

  Claude.

  [Going on.] And I came near you. And — and you sort of shuddered, and said: “For God’s sake, don’t touch me!”

  Grace.

  I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be unkind.

  Claude.

  No, I know you didn’t. It just came out unawares. And — oh, Grace, I couldn’t bear to thin
k you — you couldn’t stick me, don’t you know.... I suppose I’m a damned fool, but I haven’t made you hate and loathe me, have I?

  Grace.

  I’m not worth so much troubling about, Claude.

  Claude.

  I can’t help it. You’ve just somehow got in my blood and bones, and if it didn’t sound such drivel, I’d say you meant everything in the world to me. Only you just laugh at me when I say things like that.

  Grace.

  [Explaining to herself rather than to him.] It’s very hard for all of us to say what we mean. The words we use are so frayed. One ought to guess at — at the soul within them.

  Claude.

  I’ve been trying to think about Gann and his daughter, but I can’t really think of anything but you.

  Grace.

  You know, Claude, no one’s so wonderful as you think me. I’m no longer so young as all that, and you’re the only person who ever thought me very pretty.

  Claude.

  I don’t mind. Sometimes, so that my love should mean more to you, don’t you know, I’ve wanted you to get older quickly, and I’ve wanted you to be plain.

  Grace.

  [With a little hysterical laugh.] Oh, my dear, what a horrible prospect.

  Claude.

  Don’t laugh at me now, Grace.

  Grace.

  [With tears in her voice.] I’m not laughing at you. God knows I’m not laughing at you.

  Claude.

  I’m such an ass at explaining myself. What I want to make you understand is that I don’t love you for anything that other people could love you for. I love you because you’re you, don’t you know. Because you’re so awfully good and straight. And you know I respect you so awfully.

  Grace.

  [In a hoarse voice.] I’m not good, Claude.

  Claude.

  If I didn’t believe it, I should think the world a pretty rotten place.

  Grace.

  I haven’t been the sort of wife you wanted. I felt that always.

  Claude.

  You’ve been the only woman in the world for me. Always.

  Grace.

  [Deeply moved.] Not many women can say that, can they? One ought to be very grateful.

  Claude.

  D’you remember the first time I ever saw you?

  Grace.

  [Looking away from him.] I wonder you didn’t marry Helen Vernon years before you came across me.

  Claude.

  Hang it all, why on earth should I have done that!

  Grace.

  Your mother was very anxious that you should.

  Claude.

  I was just as little in love with Helen Vernon as she was in love with me.

  Grace.

  I can’t help seeing that she would have made you a much better wife than I have. She would have understood you. I don’t think I ever understood you. I’ve been a wretched failure, Claude.