Behind the Beyond | Page 8

It is like a punctured football with the
wind going out of it. The play has to just poof itself out noiselessly.
For instance, this is the way it is done.
Does Mrs. Harding start to talk about Lady Cicely and Jack, and Paris?
Not a bit. She is simply looking over the parcels and writing names and
talking to herself so that the audience can get the names.
"For the Orphans' Home--poor little things. For the Foundlings'
Protection Society. For the Lost Infants' Preservation League" (a deep
sigh)--"poor, poor children."
Now what is all this about? What has this to do with the play? Why,
don't you see that it is the symbol of philanthropy, of gentleness, of
melancholy sadness? The storm is over and there is nothing in Mrs.
Harding's heart but pity. Don't you see that she is dressed in deeper
black than ever, and do you notice that look on her face--that third-act
air--that resignation?
Don't you see that the play is really all over? They're just letting the
wind out of it.

A man announces "Sir John Trevor."
Sir John steps in. Mrs. Harding goes to meet him with both hands out.
"My dear, dear friend," she says in rich, sad tones.
Sir John is all in black. He is much aged, but very firm and very quiet.
You can feel that he's been spending the morning with the committee of
the Homeless Newsboys' League or among the Directorate of the Lost
Waifs' Encouragement Association. In fact he begins to talk of these
things at once. The people who are not used to third acts are wondering
what it is all about. The real playgoers know that this is atmosphere.
Then presently----
"Tea?" says Mrs. Harding, "shall I ring?"
"Pray do," says Sir John. He seats himself with great weariness. The
full melancholy of the third act is on him. The tea which has been made
for three acts is brought in. They drink it and it begins to go to their
heads. The "atmosphere" clears off just a little.
"You have news, I know," says Mrs. Harding, "you have seen him?"
"I have seen him."
"And he is gone?"
"Yes, he has sailed," says Sir John. "He went on board last night, only a
few hours after my return to London. I saw him off. Poor Jack.
Gatherson has been most kind. They will take him into the embassy at
Lima. There, please God, he can begin life again. The Peruvian
Ambassador has promised to do all in his power."
Sir John sighs deeply and is silent. This to let the fact soak into the
audience that Jack has gone to Peru. Any reasonable person would have
known it. Where else could he go to?
"He will do well in Peru," says Mrs. Harding. She is imitating a woman

being very brave.
"Yes, I trust so," says Sir John. There is silence again. In fact the whole
third act is diluted with thirty per cent. of silence. Presently Mrs.
Harding speaks again in a low tone.
"You have other news, I know."
"I have other news."
"Of her?"
"Yes. I have been to Switzerland. I have seen the curé--a good man. He
has told me all there is to tell. I found him at the hospice, busy with his
oeuvre de bienfaisance. He led me to her grave."
Sir John is bowed in deep silence.
Lady Cicely dead! Everybody in the theater gasps. Dead! But what an
unfair way to kill her! To face an open death on the stage in fair hand to
hand acting is one thing, but this new system of dragging off the
characters to Switzerland between the acts, and then returning and
saying that they are dead is quite another.
Presently Mrs. Harding speaks, very softly. "And you? You will take
up your work here again?"
"No; I am going away."
"Going?"
"Yes, far away. I am going to Kafoonistan."
Mrs. Harding looks at him in pain. "To Kafoonistan?"
"Yes. To Kafoonistan. There's work there for me to do."
. . . . . . .

There is silence again. Then Sir John speaks. "And you? You will settle
down here in London?"
"No. I am going away."
"Going away?"
"Yes, back to Balla Walla. I want to be alone. I want to forget. I want to
think. I want to try to realize."
"You are going alone?"
"Yes, quite alone. But I shall not feel alone when I get there. The
Maharanee will receive me with open arms. And my life will be useful
there. The women need me; I will teach them to read, to sew, to sing."
"Mrs. Harding--Margaret--you must not do this. You have sacrificed
your life enough--you have the right to live----"
There is emotion in Sir