SCENE. The second act takes place ten days later, towards the close of a rainy afternoon. A fire is burning in the grate and a basket of hickory wood stands beside the hearth. PETER'S hat is no longer on the peg. His pipes and jar of tobacco are missing. A number of wedding presents are set on a table, some unopened. The interior of the room, with its snapping fire, forms a pleasant contrast to the gloomy exterior. The day is fading into dusk. MRS. BATHOLOMMEY is at the piano, playing the wedding march from "Lohengrin." Four little girls are grouped about her, singing the words to the air.
  "Faithful and true:
  We lead ye forth,
  Where love triumphant
  Shall lighten the way."

  "Bright star of love,
  Flower of the earth,
  Shine on ye both
  On Love's perfect day."

MRS. BATHOLOMMEY. That's better. Children, remember that this is to be a very quiet wedding. You're to be here at noon to-morrow. You're not to speak as you enter the room and take your places near the piano. Miss Staats will come down from her room,—at least I suppose she will—and will stand … [Thinks.] I don't know where—but you're to stop when I look at you. Watch me as though I were about to be married. [She takes her place at the foot of the stairs and the children repeat the song until she has marched across the room and stationed herself in some appropriate corner. As FREDERIK appears from the hall, where he leaves his raincoat and umbrella, MRS. BATHOLOMMEY motions the children to silence.] That will do, dears, thank you. Hurry home between showers. [The children go as she explains to FREDERIK.] My Sunday-school scholars…. I thought your dear uncle would like a song at the wedding. I know how bright and cheery he would have been—poor man. Dear, noble, charitable soul!

FREDERIK. [In a low voice.] Where's Catherine?

MRS. BATHOLOMMEY. [Taking up her fancy work, seating herself.] Upstairs.

FREDERIK. With that sick child? Tc!

MRS. BATHOLOMMEY. Catherine finds it a pleasure to sit beside the little fellow. William is very much better.

FREDERIK. [Taking a telegram from his pocket-book.] Well, we shall soon be off to Europe. I've just had a telegram to say a cabin has been reserved for me on the Imperator. To-morrow, thank God, we shall take the afternoon train to New York.

MRS. BATHOLOMMEY. I must confess that I'm very glad. Of course, I'm happy to stay and chaperone Catherine; but poor Mr. Batholommey has been alone at the parsonage for ten days … ever since your dear uncle … [Pauses, unwinding yarn, then unburdening her mind.] I didn't think at first that Catherine could persuade herself to marry you.

FREDERIK. [Sharply.] I don't understand you, Mrs. Batholommey.

MRS. BATHOLOMMEY. I mean she seemed so averse to—to an immediate marriage; but of course it was your uncle's last request, and that influenced her more than anything else. So it's to be a June wedding, after all; he has his wish. You'll be married in ten days from the time he left us. [Remembering.] Some more letters marked personal came for him while you were out. I put them in the drawer—[Points to desk.] with the rest. It seems odd to think the postman brings your uncle's letters regularly, yet he is not here.

FREDERIK. [Looking towards the door of the office.] Did Hartman come?

MRS. BATHOLOMMEY. Yes. He seemed rather surprised that you'd sent for him.

FREDERIK. Did you—er—tell him that we intend to leave to-morrow?

MRS. BATHOLOMMEY. I spoke of your wedding trip,—yes.

FREDERIK. Did he seem inclined to stay?

MRS. BATHOLOMMEY. He didn't say. He seemed very much agitated. [MARTA enters, carrying a night lamp.] We'll pack Miss Catherine's things to-night, Marta. [She notices the lamp.] The night lamp for William? [Looks up towards the door of his room.] Go in very quietly. He's asleep, I think. [MARTA goes up the stairs and into WILLIAM'S room.] By the way, Mr. Batholommey was very much excited when he heard that your uncle had left a personal memorandum concerning us. We're anxious to hear it read. [FREDERIK, paying no attention to her words, is glancing at the wedding presents.] We're anxious to hear it read.

JAMES. [Entering.] Did you wish to see me?

FREDERIK. [Offering his hand to JAMES.] How do you do, Hartman? I'm very glad you consented to come back. My uncle never went into his office again after you left. There is some private correspondence concerning matters of which I know nothing; it lies on your old desk…. I'm anxious to settle everything to-night.

MRS. BATHOLOMMEY leaves the room.

JAMES. Very well. I have no doubt but that I can get through with it by midnight.

FREDERIK. If you care to remain longer with the firm, I—er—

JAMES. No, thank you.

FREDERIK. I appreciate the fact that you came on my uncle's account. I have no ill-feeling against you, Hartman.

JAMES. I'm not refusing to stay because of any ill-feeling. I'm going because I know that you'll sell out before your uncle's cold in his grave. I don't care to stay to see the old place change hands.

FREDERIK. I? Sell out? My intention is to carry out every wish of my dear old uncle's.

JAMES. I hope so. I haven't forgotten that you wanted him to sell out to
Hicks of Rochester on the very day he died. [Exit into the office.

CATHERINE comes from WILLIAM'S room, simply dressed in white—no touch of mourning. FREDERIK goes to the foot of the stairs and calls softly.

FREDERIK. Kitty! Here is our marriage license. I have the cabin on the Imperator. Everything is arranged.

CATHERINE. [Coming downstairs.] Yes. … I meant to speak to you—again.

FREDERIK. To-morrow's the day, dear.

CATHERINE. [Very subdued.] Yes….

FREDERIK. A June wedding—just as Uncle Peter wished.

CATHERINE. [As before.] Yes…. Just as he wished. Everything is just as he…. [With a change of manner—earnestly—looking at FREDERIK.] Frederik, I don't want to go away. I don't want to go to Europe. If only I could stay quietly here in—[Tears in her voice as she looks round the room.]—in my dear home.

FREDERIK. Why do you want to stay in this old cottage—with its candles and lamps and shadows? It's very gloomy, very depressing.

CATHERINE. I don't want to leave this house…. I don't want any home but this. [Panic-stricken.] Don't take me away Frederik. I know you've never really liked it at Grimm's Manor. Are you sure you'll want to come back to live here?

FREDERIK. [As though speaking to a child.] Of course. I'll do anything you ask.

CATHERINE. I—I've always wanted to please … [After a slight pause, finding it difficult to speak his name.] Uncle Peter…. I felt that I owed everything to him…. If he had lived … if I could see his happiness at our marriage—it would make me happy; [Pathetically.] but he's gone … and … I'm afraid we're making a mistake. I don't feel towards you as I ought, Frederik. I've told you again and again; but I want to tell you once more: I'm willing to marry you … but I don't love you—I never shall.

FREDERIK. How do you know?

CATHERINE. I know … I know…. It seems so disloyal to speak like this after I promised him; but—

FREDERIK. Yes, you did promise Uncle Peter you'd marry me, didn't you?

CATHERINE. Yes.

FREDERIK. And he died believing you?

CATHERINE. Yes.

FREDERIK. Then it all comes to this: are you going to live up to your promise?

CATHERINE. That's it. That's what makes me try to live up to it. [Wiping her eyes.] But you know how I feel…. You understand….

FREDERIK. Perfectly; you don't quite know your own mind…. Very few young girls do, I suppose. I love you and in time you'll grow to care for me. [MARTA re-enters from WILLIAM'S room and closing the door comes down the stairs and passes off.] What are we to do with that child?

CATHERINE. He's to stay here, of course.

FREDERIK. The child should be sent to some institution. What claim has he on you—on any of us?

CATHERINE. Why do you dislike him?

FREDERIK. I don't, but—

CATHERINE. Yes, you do. I can't understand it. I remember how angry you were when you came back from college and found him living here. You never mention his mother's name, yet you played together as children. When Uncle tried to find Annamarie and bring her back, you were the only one opposed to it.

FREDERIK. William is an uncomfortable child to have in the house. He has a way of staring at people as though he had a perpetual question on his lips. It's most annoying.

CATHERINE. What question?

FREDERIK. As for his mother—I've never seen her since she left this house and I don't care to hear her name on your lips. Her reputation is—[The rain starts pattering on the shingled roof.] Tc! More rain … the third day of it…. [Going to the window—calling.] Otto! [Angrily.] Otto! See what the wind has done—those trellises. [Bangs the window shut.] That old gardener should have been laid off years ago…. By the way, his son James is here for a few hours—to straighten matters out. I must see how he's getting on. [Taking her hand, drawing her towards the table with a change of manner.] Have you seen all the wedding presents, Kitty? I'll be back in a few minutes. [Pats her cheek and exits.

CATHERINE stands over her wedding presents just as he left her—not looking at them—her eyes filled with tears. The door is suddenly opened and the DOCTOR enters, a tweed shawl over his shoulders, wearing a tweed cap. He has a book under his arm.

DR. MACPHERSON. How's William? [CATHERINE tries to hide her tears, but he sees through her. He tosses his cap, coat and book on the sofa.] What's the matter?

CATHERINE. Nothing…. I was only thinking…. I was hoping that those we love … and lose … can't see us here. I'm beginning to believe there's not much happiness in this world.

DR. MACPHERSON. Why, you little snip. I've a notion to spank you. Talking like that with life before you! Read this book, child; [Gesturing towards the book on the sofa.] it proves that the dead do see us; they do come back. [Walks to the foot of the stairs—turns.] Catherine, I understand that you've not a penny to your name—unless you marry Frederik; that he has inherited you along with the orchids and tulips. Don't let that influence you. If Peter's plans bind you—and you look as though they did—my door's open. Think it over. It's not too late. [Goes half-way up the stairs—then pauses.] Don't let the neighbours' opinions and a few silver spoons—[Pointing to the wedding presents stand in the way of your future. [Exit into WILLIAM'S room. The rain increases. The sky grows blacker—the room darker. CATHERINE gives a cry and stretches out her arms, not looking up.

CATHERINE. Uncle Peter! Uncle Peter! Why did you do it? Why did you ask it? Oh, dear! Oh, dear! If you could see me now. [She stands rigid—her arms outstretched. MARTA, who has silently entered from the dining-room with fresh candles, goes to CATHERINE. CATHERINE suddenly buries her face on MARTA'S broad breast, breaking into sobs; then recovering, wipes her eyes.] There, there … I mustn't cry … others have troubles, too, haven't they?

MARTA. Others have troubles, too.

CATHERINE. I had hoped, Marta, that Annamarie would have heard of Uncle's loss and come back to us at this time….

MARTA. If it had only brought us all together once more; but no message … nothing … I cannot understand.

CATHERINE. She knows that our door is open….

The rain beats against the windows. A sharp double knock is heard at the door. CATHERINE starts as though suddenly brought to herself, hastily goes into the next room, taking the DOCTOR'S book with her. MARTA has hurried towards the front door, when the REV. MR. BATHOLOMMEY and COLONEL LAWTON appear in the hall as though they had entered quickly, to escape the storm. MARTA, greeting them, passes of to tell FREDERIK of their presence. The REV. MR. BATHOLOMMEY wears a long, black cloth, rain-proof coat. COLONEL LAWTON wears a rubber poncho. COLONEL LAWTON is a tall man with a thin brown beard and moustache, about forty-eight. He is dressed in a Prince Albert coat, unpressed trousers, and a negligée shirt. He wears spectacles and has a way of throwing back his head and peering at people before answering them. The REV. MR. BATHOLOMMEY sets his umbrella in the hall and the COLONEL hangs his broad-brimmed hat on the handle—as though to let it drip.

REV. MR. BATHOLOMMEY. Brr! I believe it's raining icicles.

COLONEL LAWTON. [Taking off his overshoes.] Gee Whillikins! What a day! Good thing the old windmill out yonder is tied up. Great weather for baptisms, Parson. [There is a faint, far-away rumble of thunder. FREDERIK enters.] Well, here we are, Frederik, my boy—at the time you mentioned.

REV. MR. BATHOLOMMEY. How are you, Frederik?

COLONEL LAWTON crosses to the fire, followed by the REV. MR.
BATHOLOMMEY.

FREDERIK. [Who has gone to the desk for a paper lying under a paper-weight.] I sent for you to hear a memorandum left by my uncle. I only came across it yesterday. [There is a louder peal of thunder. A flash of lightning illuminates the room.

COLONEL LAWTON. I must have drawn up ten wills for the old gentleman, but he always tore 'em up. May I have a drink of his plum brandy, Frederik?

FREDERIK. Help yourself. Pastor?

REV. MR. BATHOLOMMEY. Er—er—

COLONEL LAWTON goes to the sideboard and pours out two drinks from a decanter. A heavy roll of thunder now ends in a sharp thunderclap. MRS. BATHOLOMMEY, who is entering the room, gives a cry and puts her hands over her face. COLONEL LAWTON bolts his whiskey. The REV. MR. BATHOLOMMEY takes a glass and stands with it in his hand.

MRS. BATHOLOMMEY. [Removing her hands in time to see the brandy.] Why,
Henry! What are you doing? Are your feet wet?

REV. MR. BATHOLOMMEY. No, Rose; they're not. I want a drink and I'm going to take it. It's a bad night. [Drinks.

COLONEL LAWTON. [Throws a hickory log on the fire, which presently blazes up, making the room much lighter.] Go ahead, Frederik. [Sits.

REV. MR. BATHOLOMMEY has drawn up a chair for his wife, and now seats himself before the snapping hickory fire.

REV. MR. BATHOLOMMEY. I knew that your uncle would remember his friends and his charities. He was so liberal! One might say of him that he was the very soul of generosity. He gave in such a free-handed, princely fashion.

FREDERIK. [Reading in a businesslike manner.] For Mrs. Batholommey—

MRS. BATHOLOMMEY. The dear man—to think that he remembered me! I knew he'd remember the church and Mr. Batholommey, of course; but to think that he'd remember me! He knew that my income was very limited. He was so thoughtful! His purse was always open.

FREDERIK. [Eyes MRS. BATHOLOMMEY for a second, then continues.] For
Mr. Batholommey—[REV. MR. BATHOLOMMEY nods solemnly.] and the Colonel.

COLONEL LAWTON. [Taking out a cigar.] He knew that I did the best I could for him … [His voice breaks.] the grand old man. [Recovering.] What'd he leave me? Mrs. B.—er? [Nods inquiringly at MRS. BATHOLOMMEY, who bows assent, and he lights his cigar.

FREDERIK. [Glancing at the paper.] Mrs. Batholommey, he wished you to have his miniature—with his affectionate regards.

MRS. BATHOLOMMEY. Dear old gentleman—and er—yes?

FREDERIK. To Mr. Batholommey—

MRS. BATHOLOMMEY. But—er—you didn't finish with me.

FREDERIK. You're finished.

MRS. BATHOLOMMEY. I'm finished?

FREDERIK. You may read it yourself if you like.

REV. MR. BATHOLOMMEY. No, no, no. She'll take your word for it. [Firmly.] Rose!

FREDERIK. [Reads.] "To Mr. Batholommey, my antique watch fob—with my profound respects." [Continues.] To Colonel Lawton—

MRS. BATHOLOMMEY. His watch fob? Is that what he left to Henry? Is that all? [As FREDERIK nods.] Well! If he had no wish to make your life easier, Henry, he should at least have left something for the church. Oh! Won't the congregation have a crow to pick with you!

FREDERIK. [Reading.] "To my life-long friend, Colonel Lawton, I leave my most cherished possession." [COLONEL LAWTON has a look on his face as though he were saying, "Ah! I'll get something worth while."

MRS. BATHOLOMMEY. [Angrily.] When the church members hear that—

COLONEL LAWTON. [Chewing his cigar.] I don't know why he was called upon to leave anything to the church—he gave it thousands; and only last month, he put in chimes. As I look at it, he wished to give you something he had used—something personal. Perhaps the miniature and the fob ain't worth three whoops in Hell,—it's the sentiment of the thing that counts—[Chewing the word with his cigar.] the sentiment. Drive on, Fred.

FREDERIK. "To Colonel Lawton, my father's prayer-book."

COLONEL LAWTON. [Suddenly changing—dazed.] His prayer-book … me?

MRS. BATHOLOMMEY. [Seeing FREDERIK lay down the paper and rise.] Is that all?

FREDERIK. That's all.

COLONEL LAWTON. [Still dazed.] A prayer-book…. Me? Well, I'll be— [Struck.] Here, Parson, let's swap. You take the prayer-book—I'll take the old fob.

REV. MR. BATHOLOMMEY. [Stiffly.] Thank you. I already have a prayer-book. [Goes to the window and looks out—his back turned to the others—trying to control his feelings.

MRS. BATHOLOMMEY. [Her voice trembling with vexation and disappointment.] Well, all that I can say is—I'm disappointed in your uncle.

COLONEL LAWTON. Is it for this you hauled us out in the rain, Frederik?

MRS. BATHOLOMMEY. [Bitterly.] I see now … he only gave to the church to show off.

REV. MR. BATHOLOMMEY. Rose! … I myself am disappointed, but—

MRS. BATHOLOMMEY. He did! Or why didn't he continue his work? He was not a generous man. He was a hard, uncharitable, selfish old man.

REV. MR. BATHOLOMMEY. [Horrified.] Rose, my dear!

MRS. BATHOLOMMEY. He was! If he were here, I'd say it to his face. The congregation sicked you after him. Now that he's gone and you'll get nothing more, they'll call you slow—slow and pokey. You'll see! You'll see to-morrow.

REV. MR. BATHOLOMMEY. Sh!

MRS. BATHOLOMMEY. As for the Colonel, who spent half his time with Mr. Grimm, what is his reward? A watch-fob! [Prophetically.] Henry, mark my words—this will be the end of you. It's only a question of a few weeks. One of these new football playing ministers, just out of college, will take your place. It's not what you preach now that counts; it's what you coax out of the rich parishioners' pockets.

REV. MR. BATHOLOMMEY. [In a low voice.] Mrs. Batholommey!

MRS. BATHOLOMMEY. Religion doesn't stand where it did, Henry—there's no denying that. There was a time when people had to go to church—they weren't decent if they didn't. Now you have to wheedle 'em in. The church needs funds in these days when a college professor is openly saying that— [Her voice breaks.] the Star of Bethlehem was a comet. [Weeps.

REV. MR. BATHOLOMMEY. Control yourself. I must insist upon it, Mrs.
Batholommey.

MRS. BATHOLOMMEY. [Breaking down—almost breathlessly.] Oh! If I said all the things I feel like saying about Peter Grimm—well—I shouldn't be fit to be a clergyman's wife. Not to leave his dear friends a—

COLONEL LAWTON. He wasn't liberal; but, for God's sake, madam, pull yourself together and think what he ought to have done for me!—I've listened to his plans for twenty years. I've virtually given up my business for him, and what have I got out of it? Not a button! Not a button! A bible. Still I'm not complaining. Hang that chimney, Frederik, it's smoking. [COLONEL LAWTON stirs the fire—a log falls out and the flame goes down. The room has gradually grown darker as the night approaches.

MRS. BATHOLOMMEY. [Turning on COLONEL LAWTON.] Oh, you've feathered your nest, Colonel! You're a rich man.

COLONEL LAWTON. [Enraged, raising his voice.] What? I never came here that you weren't begging.

FREDERIK. [Virtuously—laying down the paper.] Well, I'm disgusted! When I think how much more I should have if he hadn't continually doled out money to every one of you!

COLONEL LAWTON. What?

FREDERIK. He was putty in your hands.

MRS. BATHOLOMMEY. Yes, you can afford to defend his memory—you've got the money.

FREDERIK. I don't defend his memory. He was a gullible old fossil, and the whole town knew it.

MRS. BATHOLOMMEY. You did at any rate. I've heard you flatter him by the hour.

FREDERIK. Of course. He liked flattery and I gave him what he wanted. Why not? I gave him plenty. The rest of you were at the same thing; and I had the pleasure of watching him give you the money that belonged to me—to me—my money…. What business had he to be generous with my money? [The COLONEL strikes a match to light his cigar, and, as it flares up, the face of FREDERIK is seen—distorted with anger.] I'll tell you this: had he lived much longer, there would have been nothing left for me. It's a fortunate thing for me that—[He pauses, knowing that he has said too much. The room is now very dark. The rain has subsided. Everything is quiet outside. There is not a sound, save the ticking of the clock.

REV. MR. BATHOLOMMEY. [Solemnly—breaking the pause.] Young man, it might have been better had Mr. Grimm given his all to charity—for he has left his money to an ingrate.

FREDERIK. [Laughing derisively.] Ha! Ha!

MRS. BATHOLOMMEY. Sh! Someone's coming.

All is quiet. The clock ticks in the dark. The door opens.

FREDERIK. [With a change of voice.] Come in. [Nobody enters.] Where's a light? We've been sitting in the dark like owls. Come in. [A pause. He strikes a match and holds it above his head. The light shows the open door. A wind, blowing through the doorway, causes the match to flicker, and FREDERIK protects it with his hand.

COLONEL LAWTON. I'll see who's … [Looks out.] No one.

MRS. BATHOLOMMEY. Someone must be there. Who opened the door? [The wind puts out the match in FREDERIK'S hand. The room is once more in semi-darkness.] There … it closed again … [FREDERIK strikes another match and holds it up. The door is seen to be closed.

COLONEL LAWTON. [Who is nearest to the door.] I didn't touch it.

FREDERIK. [Blowing out the match.] I'll have the lamps brought in.

MRS. BATHOLOMMEY. Curious …

REV. MR. BATHOLOMMEY. It was the wind—a draught.

COLONEL LAWTON. [Returning to his chair.] Must have been.

CATHERINE. [Entering with a lamp.] Did someone call me?

_Without pausing, she sets the lamp on the table down right—opposite the group of characters. She turns up the wick and _PETER GRIMM _is seen standing in the room—half in shadow. He is as he was in life. The clothes he wears appear to be those he wore about his house in the first act. He carries his hat in his hand. He has the same kind smile, the same deferential manner, but his face is more spiritual and years younger. The lamp, which CATHERINE has placed on the table, brightens the room._

PETER. [Whose eyes never leave CATHERINE.] Yes … I called you…. I've come back.

FREDERIK. [To CATHERINE.] No.

PETER. Don't be frightened, Katie. It's the most natural thing in the world. You wanted me and I came.

FREDERIK. Why? What made you think someone called you?

CATHERINE. I'm so accustomed to hear Uncle Peter's voice in this room, that sometimes I forget he's not here … I can't get over it! I was almost sure I heard him speak … but, of course, as soon as I came in—I remembered…. But some one must have called me.

FREDERIK. No.

PETER stands looking at them, perplexed; not being able to comprehend as yet that he is not seen.

CATHERINE. Isn't it curious … to hear your name and turn and … [Unconsciously, she looks in PETER'S face.] no one there?

REV. MR. BATHOLOMMEY. [Kindly.] Nerves … imagination.

FREDERIK. You need a complete change. [Crossing to the door.] For heaven's sake, let's have more light or we shall all be hearing voices.

PETER. Strange…. Nobody seems to see me…. It's—it's extraordinary! Katie! … Katie! … [His eyes have followed CATHERINE who is now at the door.

CATHERINE. [Pausing.] Perhaps it was the book I was reading that made me think I heard…. The Doctor lent it to me.

FREDERIK. [Pooh-poohing.] Oh!

CATHERINE. [Half to herself.] If he does know, if he can see, he'll be comforted by the thought that I'm going to do everything he wanted. [She passes out of the room.

PETER. [Showing that he does not want her to carry out his wishes.] No, no, don't … Frederik, I want to speak to you.

[FREDERIK, not glancing in PETER'S direction, lights a cigarette.

MRS. BATHOLOMMEY. Well, Frederik, I hope the old gentleman can see his mistake now.

PETER. I can see several mistakes. [REV. MR. BATHOLOMMEY rises and goes towards the door, pausing in front of PETER to take out his watch.] … Mr. Batholommey, I'm glad to see you in my house…. I'm very sorry that you can't see me. I wasn't pleased with my funeral sermon; it was very gloomy—very. I never was so depressed in my life.

MRS. BATHOLOMMEY. [To FREDERIK.] Do you know what I should like to say to your uncle?

PETER. I know.

REV. MR. BATHOLOMMEY. I hope at least you'll care for the parish poor as your uncle did—and keep on with some of his charities.

PETER. [Putting his hand on REV. MR. BATHOLOMMEY'S shoulder.] That's all attended to. I arranged all that with Frederik. He must look after my charities.

FREDERIK. I might as well tell you now—you needn't look to me. It's Uncle
Peter's fault if your charities are cut off.

REV. MR. BATHOLOMMEY. [Half-doubtingly.] It doesn't seem possible that he made no arrangements to continue his good works. [FREDERIK remains stolid. REV. MR. BATHOLOMMEY puts back his watch after glancing at it.] Just thirty minutes to make a call. [Goes into the hall to put on his overshoes, coat, &c., leaving PETER'S hand extended in the air.

COLONEL LAWTON. [Rising.] I must be toddling. [Pauses.] It's queer, Frederik, how things turn out in this world. [He stands, thinking matters over—cigar in mouth, his hand on his chin.

PETER. [Slipping his hand through COLONEL LAWTON'S arm. They seem to look each other in the eye.] You were perfectly right about it, Thomas, I should have made a will … I—suppose it is a little too late, isn't it?… It would be—er—unusual to do it now, wouldn't it?

COLONEL LAWTON, who has heard nothing—seen nothing—moves away as though PETER had never held his arm, and goes up into the hall for his cape and overshoes.

COLONEL LAWTON. [Noticing an old gold-headed walking-stick in the hall.]
Oh, er—what are you going to do with all the old man's family relics,
Frederik?

FREDERIK. The junk, you mean? I shall lay it on some scrap-heap, I suppose. It's not worth a penny.

COLONEL LAWTON. I'm not so sure of that. They say there's a lot of money paid for this sort of trash.

FREDERIK. Is that so? Not a bad idea to have a dealer in to look it over.

PETER stands listening, a faint smile on his face.

MRS. BATHOLOMMEY. If I could have the old clock—cheap, Frederik, I'd take it off your hands.

FREDERIK. I'll find out how much it's worth. I shall have everything appraised. [Sets his watch by the clock. MRS. BATHOLOMMEY gives him a look and joins her husband at the door.

COLONEL LAWTON. Good-night. [Exit, closing the door.

MRS. BATHOLOMMEY. [As REV. MR. BATHOLOMMEY goes out—calling after him.] Henry, Catherine wants you to come back for supper. [MRS. BATHOLOMMEY leaves the room too disgusted for words. FREDERIK goes into the office.

PETER. [Now alone.] We live and learn … and oh! what I have learned since I came back…. [He goes to his own particular peg in the vestibule and hangs up his hat. He glances at the wedding presents. Presently he sees the flowers which CATHERINE has placed on the desk. With a smile, he touches the flowers. MARTA enters with another lamp, which she places on a table. As PETER'S eyes rest on MARTA, he nods and smiles in recognition, waiting for a response.] Well, Marta?… Don't you know your old master?… No?… No?… [She winds the clock and leaves the room.] I seem to be a stranger in my own house … yet the watch-dog knew me and wagged his tail as I came in. [He stands trying to comprehend it all.] Well! Well!

FREDERIK. [Looking at his watch, re-enters from the office and goes to the 'phone, which presently rings. FREDERIK instantly lifts the receiver as though not wishing to attract attention. In a low voice.] Yes … I was waiting for you. How are you, Mr. Hicks? [Listens.] I'm not anxious to sell—no. I prefer to carry out my dear old uncle's wishes. [PETER eyes him—a faint smile on his lips.] If I got my price? Well … of course in that case … I might be tempted. To-morrow? No, I can't see you to-morrow. I'm going to be married to-morrow, and leave at once for New York. Thank you. [Listens.] To-night? Very well, but I don't want it known. I'll sell, but it must be for more than the price my uncle refused. Make it ten thousand more and it's done. [Listens.] You'll come to-night?… Yes, yes…. [Listens at the 'phone.] The dear old man told you his plans never failed, eh? God rest his soul! [Laughing indulgently.] Ha! Ha! Ha!

PETER. Ha! Ha! Ha!

FREDERIK. [Echoing HICKS' words.] What would he say if he knew? What could he say? Everything must change.

A far-away rumble of thunder is heard—the lightning flickers at the window and a flash is seen on the telephone which tinkles and responds as though from the electric shock. Exclaiming "Ugh," FREDERIK drops the receiver—which hangs down.

PETER. [The storm passes as he speaks into the receiver without touching the telephone.] Good-evening, my friend. We shall soon meet—face to face. You won't be able to carry this matter through…. [Looking into space as though he could see the future.] You're not well and you're going out to supper to-night; … you will eat something that will cause you to pass over…. I shall see you to-morrow…. A happy crossing!

FREDERIK. [Picks up the receiver.] Hello?… You don't feel well, you say? [Then echoing the purport of HICKS' answer.] I see…. Your lawyer can attend to everything to-night without you. Very well. It's entirely a question of money, Mr. Hicks. Send your lawyer to the Grimm Manor Hotel. I'll arrange at once for a room. Good-bye. [Hangs up the receiver.] That's off my mind. [He lights a fresh cigarette—his face expressing the satisfaction he feels in the prospect of a perfectly idle future. PETER looks at him as though to say: "And that's the boy whom I loved and trusted!" FREDERIK gets his hat, throws his coat over his arm, and hastens out.

PETER. [Turns and faces the door leading into the next room, as though he could feel the presence of some one waiting there.] Yes … I am still in the house. Come in … come in … [He repeats the signal of the first act.] Ou—oo. [The door opens slowly—and CATHERINE enters as though at PETER'S call. She looks about her, not understanding. He holds out his arms to her. CATHERINE walks slowly towards him. He takes her in his arms, but she does not respond. She does not know that she is being held.] There! There!… Don't worry…. It's all right…. We'll arrange things very differently. I've come back to change all my plans. [She moves away a step—just out of his embrace. He tries to call her back.] Katie! … Can't I make my presence known to you? Katie! Can't my love for you outlive me? Isn't it here in the home?… Don't cry. [She moves about the room in thought. As PETER watches her—she pauses near his desk.

CATHERINE. [Suddenly.] Crying doesn't help matters.

PETER. She hears me. She doesn't know it, but she hears me. She's cheering up. [She inhales the flowers—a half smile on her lips.] That's right, you haven't smiled before since I died. [Suddenly giving way to the realization of her loss, CATHERINE sighs.

PETER. [Correcting himself.] I—I mean—since I learned that there was a happier place than the world I left…. I'm a trifle confused. I've not had time to adjust myself to these new conditions. [CATHERINE smiles sadly—goes up to the window, and, leaning against the pane, looks out into the night. PETER continues comfortingly.] The dead have never really died, you know. We couldn't die if we tried. We're all about you…. Look at the gardens: they've died, haven't they? But there they are all the better for it. Death is the greatest thing in the world. It's really a—Ha!—delightful experience. What is it, after all? A nap from which we waken rested, refreshened … a sleep from which we spring up like children tumbling out of bed—ready to frolic through another world. I was an old man a few days ago; now I'm a boy. I feel much younger than you—much younger. [A conflict is going on in CATHERINE'S mind. She walks to the chair by the fireplace and sits—her back to the audience. He approaches her and lays a tender hand on her shoulder.] I know what you're thinking…. Katie, I want you to break that very foolish promise I asked you to make. You're almost tempted to. Break it! Break it at once; then—[Glancing smilingly towards the door through which he came—as though he wished to leave—like a child longing to go back to play.] then I could—take the journey back in peace…. I can't go until you do—and I … I long to go…. Isn't my message any clearer to you? [Reading her mind.] You have a feeling … an impression of what I'm saying; but the words … the words are not clear…. Mm … let me see…. If you can't understand me—there's the Doctor, he'll know how to get the message— he'll find the way…. Then I can hurry back … home….

CATHERINE. [Helplessly—changing her position like a tired child.] Oh,
I'm so alone.

PETER. [Cheerily.] Not alone at all—not at all. I shall drop in very often … and then, there's your mother. [Suddenly remembering.] Oh, yes, I had almost forgotten. I have a message for you, Katie…. [He seats himself in a chair which is almost in front of her.] I've met your mother. [She sits in a reverie. PETER continues with the air of a returned traveller relating his experiences.] She heard that I had crossed over and there she was—waiting for me. You're thinking of it, aren't you? Wondering if we met…. Yes, that was the first interesting experience. She knew me at once. "You were Peter Grimm," she said, "before you knew better"—that's what they call leaving this world—"to know better." You call it "dying." [Confidentially.] She's been here often, it seems, watching over you. I told her how much I loved you and said that you had a happy home. I spoke of your future—of my plans for you and Frederik. "Peter Grimm," she said, "you've over-looked the most important thing in the world—love. You haven't given her her right to the choice of her lover—her right!" Then it came over me that I'd made a terrible mistake … and at that minute, you called to me. [Impressively.] In the darkness surrounding all I had left behind, there came a light … a glimmer where you stood … a clear call in the night…. It seemed as though I had not been away one second … but in that second, you had suffered…. Now I am back to show you the way…. I am here to put my hand on your dear head and give you your mother's blessing; to say she will be with you in spirit until she holds you in her arms—you and your loved husband—[CATHERINE turns in her chair and looks towards the door of the room in which JAMES is working. PETER catches the thought.]— yes, James, it's you…. And the message ended in this kiss. [Prints a kiss on her cheek.] Can't you think I'm with you, dear child? Can't you think I'm trying to help you? Can't you even hope? Oh, come, at least hope! Anybody can hope.

CATHERINE rises with an entire change of manner—takes a bright red blossom from the vase on PETER'S desk—then deliberately walks to the door of the room in which JAMES is working. PETER follows her action hopefully. She does not tap on the door, however, but turns and sits at the piano—in thought—not facing the piano. She puts PETER'S flowers against her face. Then, laying the flowers on the piano, sings softly three or four bars of the song she sang in the first act—and stops abruptly.

CATHERINE. [To herself.] That I should sit here singing—at a time like this!

PETER. Sing! Sing! Why not? Lift up your voice like a bird! Your old uncle doesn't sleep out there in the dust. That's only the dream. He's here— here—alive. All his age gone and youth glowing in his heart. If I could only tell you what lies before you—before us all! If people even suspected what the next life really is, they wouldn't waste time here—I can tell you that. They'd do dreadful things to get away from this existence—make for the nearest pond or—[Pausing abruptly.] Ah, here comes someone who'll know all about it! [The DOCTOR comes from WILLIAM'S room. PETER greets him in a cordial but casual way, as though he had parted from him only an hour before.] Well, Andrew, I apologize. [Bowing obsequiously.] You were right. I apologize.

CATHERINE. How is he, Doctor?

DR. MACPHERSON. William is better. Dropped off to sleep again. Can't quite understand him.

PETER. I apologize. I said that if I could come back, I would; and here I am—apologizing. Andrew! Andrew! [Trying to attract DR. MACPHERSON'S attention.] I have a message, but I can't get it across. This is your chance. I want you to take it. I don't wish Catherine to marry Frederik.

DR. MACPHERSON. He's somewhat feverish yet.

PETER. Can't you understand one word?

DR. MACPHERSON. It's a puzzling case….

PETER. What? Mine?

DR. MACPHERSON. [Getting a pad from his pocket—writing out a prescription with his fountain pen.] I'll leave this prescription at the druggist's—

PETER. I'm quite shut out…. They've closed the door and turned the key on me.

DR. MACPHERSON. [Suddenly noticing that CATHERINE seems more cheerful.] What's happened? I left you in tears and here you are—all smiles.

CATHERINE. Yes, I—I am happier—for some reason…. For the last few minutes I—I've had such a strange feeling.

DR. MACPHERSON. That's odd: so have I! Been as restless as a hungry mouse.
Something seemed to draw me down here—can't explain it.

PETER. I'm beginning to be felt in this house.

DR. MACPHERSON. Catherine, I have the firm conviction that, in a very short time, I shall hear from Peter. [Sitting at the table.

PETER. I hope so. It's high time now.

DR. MACPHERSON. What I want is some positive proof; some absolute test; some—er—[Thinks.

CATHERINE has seated herself at the table.—Unconsciously they both occupy the same seats as in the first act.

PETER. The trouble is with other people, not with us. You want us to give all sorts of proofs; and here we are just back for a little while—very poorly put together on the chance that you'll see us at all.

DR. MACPHERSON. Poor old Peter—bless his heart! [His elbow on the table as though he had been thinking over the matter. CATHERINE sits quietly listening.] If he kept that compact with me, and came back,—do you know what I'd ask him first? If our work goes on.

PETER. Well, now, that's a regular sticker. It's bothered me considerably since I crossed over.

CATHERINE. What do you mean, Doctor?

DR. MACPHERSON. The question every man wants the answer to: what's to become of me—me—my work? Am I going to be a bone setter in the next life and he a tulip man?… I wonder.

PETER. Andrew, I've asked everybody—Tom, Dick and Harry. One spirit told me that sometimes our work does go on; but he was an awful liar—you knew we don't drop our earth habits at once. He said that a genius is simply a fellow who's been there before in some other world and knows his business. Now then: [Confidentially preparing to open an argument— sitting in his old seat at the table, as in the first act.] it stands to reason, Andrew, doesn't it? What chance has the beginner compared with a fellow who knew his business before he was born?

DR. MACPHERSON. [Unconsciously grasping the thought.] I believe it is possible to have more than one chance at our work.

PETER. There … you caught that…. Why can't you take my message to
Catherine?

DR. MACPHERSON. [Rising to get his shawl—gruffly.] Thought over what I told you concerning this marriage? Not too late to back out.

PETER. He's beginning to take the message.

CATHERINE. Everything's arranged: I shall be married as Uncle Peter wished. I sha'n't change my mind.

DR. MACPHERSON. H'm! [Picks up his shawl.

PETER. [Trying to detain the DOCTOR—tugging at his shawl without seeming to pull it.] Don't give up! Don't give up! A girl can always change her mind—while there's life. Don't give up! [The DOCTOR turns, facing PETER, looking directly at him as he puts his hand in his coat pocket.] You heard that, eh?… Didn't you? Yes? Did it cross over?… What?… It did?… You're looking me in the face, Andrew; can you see me? [The DOCTOR takes a pencil out of his pocket, writes a prescription, throws his shawl over his shoulder—turning his back towards PETER and facing CATHERINE.] Tc! Tc! Tc!

DR. MACPHERSON. Good-night.

CATHERINE. Good-night. [CATHERINE goes quietly to the fireplace, kneeling down, mends the fire, and remains there sitting on an ottoman.

PETER. [Calling after the DOCTOR.] If I could only make some sign—to start you thinking; but I can't depend upon you, I see that…. [Then changing—as though he had an idea.] Ah, yes! There is another way. Now to work. [With renewed activity, he taps in the direction of the office door, although he himself stands three feet away from it. The door opens promptly and JAMES appears on the threshold—pen in hand—as though something had made him rise suddenly from his desk. CATHERINE, still seated, does not see JAMES, who stands looking at her—remembering that she is to be married on the following day. PETER tempts JAMES.] Yes, she is pretty, James … young and lovely…. Look!… There are kisses tangled in her hair where it curls … hundreds of them…. Are you going to let her go? Her lips are red with the red of youth. Every smile is an invocation to life. Who could resist her smiles? Can you, James? No, you will not let her go. And her hands, James…. Look! Hands made to clasp and cling to yours. Imagine her little feet trudging happily about your home…. Look at her shoulders … shaped for a resting-place for a little head…. You were right, James, we should ask nothing of our girls but to marry the men they love and be happy wives and happy mothers of happy children. You feel what I am saying…. You couldn't live without her, could you? No? Very well, then—[Changing abruptly.] Now, it's your turn.

JAMES pauses a moment. There is silence. Then he comes forward a step and CATHERINE, hearing him, turns and rises.

JAMES. [Coldly—respectfully.] Miss Grimm …

CATHERINE. James …

JAMES. I felt that you were here and wished to speak to me. I—I don't know why …

PETER. Good for James.

CATHERINE. [Shaking hands with him.] I'm very glad to see you again,
James. [When PETER sees that he has brought the two young people
together, he stands in the background. The lovers are in the shadow, but
PETER'S figure is marked and clear.] Why did you go away?

JAMES. Oh—er—

CATHERINE. And without saying a word.

JAMES. Your uncle sent me away. I told him the truth again.

CATHERINE. Oh …

JAMES. I am going in a few hours.

CATHERINE. Where are you going? What do you intend to do?

JAMES. [Half-heartedly.] Father and I are going to try our luck together. We're going to start with a small fruit farm. It will give me a chance to experiment….

CATHERINE. It will seem very strange when I come back home…. Uncle gone … and you, James. [Her voice trembling.

JAMES. I hope you'll be happy, Catherine.

CATHERINE. James, Uncle died smiling at me—thinking of me … and just before he went, he gave me his mother's wedding ring and asked me to marry Frederik. I shall never forget how happy he was when I promised. That was all he wanted. His last smile was for me … and there he sat—still smiling after he was gone … the smile of a man leaving the world perfectly satisfied—at peace. It's like a hand on my heart—hurting it— when I question anything he wanted. I couldn't meet him in the hereafter if I didn't do everything he wished; I couldn't say my prayers at night; I couldn't speak his name in them…. He trusted me; depended upon me; did everything for me; so I must do this for him…. I wanted you to know this, James, because …

JAMES. Why haven't you told Frederik the truth?

CATHERINE. I have.

JAMES. That you don't love him? [CATHERINE doesn't answer, but JAMES knows.] … And he's willing to take you like that?—a little girl like you—in that way…. God! He's rotten all the way through. He's even worse than I thought. Katie, I didn't mean to say a word of this to-day— not a word; but a moment since—something made me change my mind—I don't know what!… [PETER smiles.] I felt that I must talk to you. You looked so young, so helpless, such a child. You've never had to think for yourself—you don't know what you're doing. You couldn't live under it, Catherine. You're making the greatest mistake possible, if you marry where you don't love. Why should you carry out your uncle's plans? You're going to be wretched for life to please a dead man who doesn't know it; or, if he does know it, regrets it bitterly.

PETER. I agree with you now, James.

CATHERINE. You musn't say that, James.

JAMES. But I will say it—I will speak my mind. I don't care how fond you were of your uncle or how much he did for you—it wasn't right to ask this of you. It wasn't fair. The whole thing is the mistake of a very obstinate old man.

CATHERINE. James!

JAMES. I loved him, too; but he was an obstinate old man. Sometimes I think it was the Dutch blood in his veins.

PETER. A very frank, outspoken fellow. I like to hear him talk—now.

JAMES. Do you know why I was sent away? Why I quarrelled with your uncle? I said that I loved you … he asked me…. I didn't tell him because I had any hopes—I hadn't…. I haven't now…. [Struck.] But in spite of what I'm saying … I don't know what makes me think that I … I could take you in my arms and you would let me … but I do think it.

CATHERINE. [Retreats, backing towards PETER.] No!… Don't touch me,
James—you mustn't! Don't!… Don't!

PETER pushes her into JAMES' arms, without touching her. She exclaims "Oh, James!" and fairly runs towards JAMES as though violently propelled. In reality, she thinks that she is yielding to an impulse. As she reaches him, she exclaims "No," and turns back, but JAMES, with outstretched arms, catches her.

JAMES. You love me. [Draws her to him.

CATHERINE. Don't make me say that, James.

JAMES. I will make you say it! You do love me.

CATHERINE. No matter if I do, that won't alter matters.

JAMES. What? What?

CATHERINE. No, no, don't say any more…. I won't hear it. [She stands free of JAMES—then turns and walks to the stairs.] Good-bye, Jim.

JAMES. Do you mean it? Are you really going to sacrifice yourself because of—Am I really losing you?… Catherine! Catherine!

CATHERINE. [In tears—beseechingly.] Please don't…. Please don't….

FREDERIK enters. Until the entrance of FREDERIK, PETER has had hope in his face, but now he begins to feel apprehensive.

FREDERIK. [Throwing his hat and coat on a chair.] I have some work to do—more of my uncle's unopened mail; then I'll join you, Hartman. We must—er—make haste.

JAMES looks at CATHERINE, then at FREDERIK. CATHERINE gives him an imploring glance—urging him not to speak. FREDERIK has gone to PETER'S desk.

JAMES. I'll come back later. [Goes towards the hall.

FREDERIK. Catherine, have you asked James to be present at the ceremony to-morrow?

CATHERINE. No.

FREDERIK. James, will you—

JAMES. I shall be leaving early in the morning.

FREDERIK. Too bad! [Exit JAMES.

FREDERIK lights the desk candles, takes the mail out of the drawer—opens two letters—tears them up after barely glancing at them—then sees CATHERINE still standing at the foot of the stairs—her back to him. He lays the cigar on the desk, crosses, and, taking her in his arms, kisses her.

CATHERINE. [With a revulsion of feeling.] No! No! No! [She covers her face with her hands—trying to control herself.] Please!… Not now….

FREDERIK. Why not now? [Suspiciously.] Has Hartman been talking to you? What has he been saying to you? [CATHERINE starts slowly up the stairs.] Wait a moment, please…. [As she retreats a step up the stairs, he follows her.] Do you really imagine you—you care for that fellow?

CATHERINE. Don't—please.

FREDERIK. I'm sorry to insist. Of course, I knew there was a sort of school-girl attachment on your part; … that you'd known each other since childhood. I don't take it at all seriously. In three months, you'll forget him. I must insist, however, that you do not speak to him again to-night. After to-morrow—after we are married—I'm quite sure that you will not forget you are my wife, Catherine—my wife.

CATHERINE. I sha'n't forget. [She escapes into her room. FREDERIK goes to his desk.

PETER. [Confronting FREDERIK.] Now, sir, I have something to say to you, Frederik Grimm, my beloved nephew! I had to die to find you out; but I know you! [FREDERIK is reading a letter.] You sit there opening a dead man's mail—with the heart of a stone—thinking: "He's gone! he's gone!— so I'll break every promise!" But there is something you have forgotten— something that always finds us out: the law of reward and punishment. Even now it is overtaking you. Your hour has struck. [FREDERIK takes up another letter and begins to read it; then, as though disturbed by a passing thought, he puts it down. As though perplexed by the condition of his own mind, he ponders, his eyes resting unconsciously on PETER.] Your hour has struck.

FREDERIK. [To himself.] What in the world is the matter with me to-night?

PETER. Read!

FREDERIK. [Has opened a long, narrow, blue envelope containing a letter
on blue paper and a small photograph. He stares at the letter, aghast.]
My God! Here's luck…. Here's luck! From that girl Annamarie to my uncle.
Oh, if he had read it!

PETER. [Standing in front of FREDERIK looks into space—as though reading the letter in the air.] "Dear Mr. Grimm: I have not written because I can't do anything to help William, and I am ashamed."

FREDERIK. Wh! [As though he had read the first part to himself, now reads aloud.] "Don't be too hard upon me…. I have gone hungry trying to save a few pennies for him, but I never could; and now I see that I cannot hope to have him back. William is far better off with you. I—" [Hesitates.

PETER. [Going back of the desk, standing behind FREDERIK'S chair.] Go on….

FREDERIK. "I wish that I might see him once again. Perhaps I could come and go in the night."

PETER. That's a terrible thing for a mother to write.

FREDERIK. [Who has been looking down at the letter—suddenly feeling PETER'S presence.] Who's that? Who's in this room? [Looks over his shoulder—then glances about.] I could have sworn somebody was looking over my shoulder … or had come in at the door … or … [But seeing no one—he continues.] "I met someone from home; … if there is any truth in the rumour of Catherine's marriage—it mustn't be, Mr. Grimm—it mustn't be … not to Frederik. For Frederik is my little boy's—" [FREDERIK gives a furtive glance upstairs at the door of the child's room. Picks up the small picture which was in the envelope.] Her picture … [Turns it over—looks at the back—reads.] "For my boy, from Annamarie." [FREDERIK, conscious-stricken for the time being, bows his head.

PETER. For the first time since I entered this house, you are yourself, Frederik Grimm. Once more a spark of manhood is alight in your soul. Courage! It's not too late to repent. Turn back, lad! Follow your impulse. Take the little boy in your arms. Go down on your knees and ask his mother's pardon. Turn over a fresh page, that I may leave this house in peace….

FREDERIK. [Looks about uneasily, then glances towards the door leading into the hall.] Who is at the door? Curious … I thought I heard someone at …

PETER. I am at the door—I, Peter Grimm! Annamarie is at the door—the little girl who is ashamed to come home; the old mother in the kitchen breaking her heart for some word. William is at the door—your own flesh and blood—nameless; Katie, sobbing her heart out—you can hear her; all— we are all at the door—every soul in this house. We are all at the door of your conscience, Frederik…. Don't keep us waiting, my boy. It's very hard to kill the love I had for you. I long to love you again—to take you back to my heart—lies and all. [FREDERIK rises—in deep thought.] Yes! Call her! Tell her the truth. Give her back her promise…. Give her back her home…. Close the door on a peaceful, happy, silent room and go. Think—think of that moment when you give her back her freedom! Think of her joy, her gratitude, her affection. It's worth living for, lad. Speak! Make haste and call her, Fritz. [FREDERIK takes several steps—then turns back to the desk. He tears the letter in two, muttering to himself, "Damn the woman," and sinks into his chair.] Frederik Grimm, stand up before me! [FREDERIK starts to rise, but changes his mind.] Stand up! [FREDERIK rises—not knowing why he has risen. PETER points an accusing finger at FREDERIK.] Liar to the dead! Cheat, thief, hypocrite! You sha'n't have my little girl. You only want her for a week, a day, an hour. I refuse. I have come back to take her from you and you cannot put me to rest…. I have come back…. You cannot drive me from your thoughts—I am there…. [Tapping his forehead, without touching it.] I am looking over your shoulder … in at the window … under the door…. You are breathing me in the air…. I am looking at your heart. [He brings his clenched fist down on the desk in answer to FREDERIK'S gesture; but, despite the seeming violence of the blow, he makes no sound.] Hear me! You shall hear me! Hear me! [Calling loudly.] Hear me! Hear me! Hear me! Will nobody hear me? Is there no one in this house to hear me? No one? Has my journey been in vain?… [For the first time fully realizing the situation.] Oh, must we stand or fall by the mistakes we made here and the deed we did? Is there no second chance in this world?

FREDERIK. [With a sneer on his lips as though trying to banish his thoughts.] Psh!

MARTA enters with a tray, containing a pot of coffee and a plate of small cakes. PETER, who has watched her with appealing eyes, like a dog craving attention, glances from her to the desk and from the desk back to MARTA—trying to tempt her to look at the torn letter. FREDERIK, deep in thought, does not notice her. PETER points to the desk as though to say, "Look!" After a pause, she picks up the picture and the letter— holding them in one hand to clear a spot for the tray which she is about to set on the desk.

PETER. [Speaking in a hushed voice.] Marta, see what you have in your hand … that letter … there … read it…. Run to Catherine with it. Read it from the house-tops…. The letter … Look! There you have the story of Annamarie…. It is the one way to know the truth in this house— the only way…. There in your hand—the letter…. He will never speak…. The letter for Catherine.

MARTA sets down the picture and the letter; but something prompts her to look at them; however, before she can carry out her impulse, FREDERIK starts up.

FREDERIK. My God! How you startled me! [MARTA sets down the tray.] Oh! To be off and out of this old rat-trap. [He wipes his forehead with his black-bordered handkerchief.] I mean—our loss comes home to us so keenly here where we are accustomed to see him.

MARTA. A cup of coffee, sir?

FREDERIK. No, no, no.

MARTA. [Pathetically.] I thought you wished to keep to your uncle's customs…. He always took it at this time.

FREDERIK. [Recovering.] Yes, yes, of course.

MARTA. … No word?…

FREDERIK. [Hesitates.] What do you mean?

MARTA. No letter?

FREDERIK. Letter?… [Covering the letter with his hand.] From whom?…

MARTA. From … At a time like this, I thought … I felt … that Annamarie … that there should be some message…. Every day I expect to hear …

FREDERIK. No.

PETER gestures to MARTA—pointing to the picture and letter, now covered by FREDERIK'S hand.

MARTA. [Hesitating.] Are you certain?

FREDERIK. Quite certain. [She curtsies and leaves the room. FREDERIK, as though relieved to see her go, jumps to his feet, and, tearing the letter in smaller pieces, lights them in the candle, dropping the burning pieces on a tray. As the flame dies out, FREDERIK brushes the blackened paper into the waste-basket.] There's an end to that!

PETER crouches near the basket—hovering over it, his hinds clasped helplessly. After a pause, he raises his hand, until it points to a bedroom above. An echo of the circus music is very faintly heard; not with the blaring of brasses, but with the sounds of elfin horns, conveying the impression of a phantom circus band. The door of WILLIAM'S room opens, and he comes out as though to listen to the music. He wears a sleeping suit and is bare-footed. He has come down stairs before FREDERIK sees him. FREDERIK quickly puts aside the photograph, laying it on the desk, covering it with his hand.

FREDERIK. [Gruffly.] Why aren't you in bed? If you're ill, that's the proper place for you.

WILLIAM. I came down to hear the circus music.

FREDERIK. Circus music?

WILLIAM. It woke me up.

FREDERIK. The circus left town days ago. You must have been dreaming.

WILLIAM. The band's playing now. Don't you hear it, sir? The procession's passing. [He runs to the window and opens it. The music stops. A breeze sweeps through the room—bellies out the curtains and causes the lustres to jingle on the mantel. Surprised.] No. It's almost dark. There's no procession … no shining horses…. [Turning sadly away from the window.] I wonder what made me think the—I must have been dreaming. [Rubbing his eyes.

FREDERIK. [Goes to the window, closes it. The child looks at him and, in retreating from him, unconsciously backs towards PETER.] Are you feeling better?

WILLIAM. Yes, sir, I feel better—and hungry.

FREDERIK. Go back to bed.

WILLIAM. Yes, sir. [FREDERIK sits.

PETER. Where's your mother, William?

WILLIAM. Do you know where Annamarie is?

PETER. Ah!

FREDERIK. Why do you ask me? What should I know of her?

WILLIAM. Grandmother doesn't know; Miss Catherine doesn't know; nobody knows.

FREDERIK. I don't know, either. [Tears up the picture—turning so that
WILLIAM does not see what he is doing. PETER, who has been smiling at
WILLIAM, motions him to come nearer. WILLIAM, feeling PETER'S
presence, looks round the room.

WILLIAM. Mr. Frederik, where's old Mr. Grimm?

FREDERIK. Dead.

WILLIAM. Are you sure he's dead? 'Cause—[Puzzled—unable to explain himself, he hesitates.

FREDERIK. [Annoyed..] You'd better go to bed.

WILLIAM. [Pointing to a glass of water on a tray.] Can I have a drink of water, please?

FREDERIK. Go to bed, sir, or you'll be punished. Water's not good for little boys with fever.

WILLIAM. [Going towards the stairs.] Wish I could find a cold brook and lie in it. [Goes slowly up the stairs. FREDERIK would destroy the pieces of the picture; but PETER faces him as though forbidding him to touch it, and, for the first time, FREDERIK imagines he sees the apparition of his uncle.

FREDERIK. [In a very low voice—almost inaudibly.] My God! I thought I saw … [Receding a step and yet another step as the vision of PETER is still before him, he passes out of the room, wiping the beads of sweat from his forehead. WILLIAM, hearing the door close, comes down stairs and, running to the table at back, drinks a glass of water.

WILLIAM. Um! That's good!

PETER. William! [WILLIAM doesn't see PETER yet, but he feels his influence.

WILLIAM. Wish it had been the circus music.

PETER. You shall hear it all again. [Gestures towards the plate of cakes on the tray.] Come, William, here's something very nice.

WILLIAM. [Seeing the cakes.] Um! Cakes! [He steals to the tray, looking over his shoulder in fear of being caught.

PETER. Don't be frightened. I'm here to protect you. Help yourself to the cakes. William, do you think you could deliver a message for me … a very important message?…

The circus music is heard. WILLIAM sits at the tray and PETER seats himself opposite as though he were the host doing the honours. WILLIAM, being unconsciously coaxed by PETER, is prevailed upon to choose the biggest cake. He takes a bite, looking towards PETER.

WILLIAM. [To himself.] Ha!… Think I am dreaming. [Rubbing his little stomach ecstatically.] Hope I won't wake up and find there wasn't any cake.

PETER. Don't worry, you won't. [WILLIAM has taken another piece of cake which he nibbles at—now holding a piece in each hand.] Pretty substantial dream, eh? There's a fine, fat raisin. [WILLIAM eats the raisin, then looks into the sugar-bowl.] Don't hesitate, William. Sugar won't hurt you now. Nothing can hurt you any more. Fall to, William—help yourself. [WILLIAM looks over his shoulder, fearing the return of FREDERIK.] Oh, he won't come back in a hurry. Ha! Frederik thought he saw me, William; well, he didn't. He had a bad conscience—hallucination. [WILLIAM nibbles a lump of sugar.] Now, William, I have a message for you. Won't you try and take it for me, eh? [But WILLIAM eats another lump of sugar.] I see … I can't expect to get any assistance from a boy while his little stomach's calling. [WILLIAM empties the cream jug and helps himself to cakes. Presently the music dies out.] Now I'm going to tell you something. [Impressively.] You're a very lucky boy, William; I congratulate you. Do you know why—of all this household—you are the only one to help me?… This is the secret: in a little time—it won't be long—you're going—[As though he were imparting the most delightful information.]—to know better! Think of that! Isn't the news splendid? [But WILLIAM eats on.] Think of what most of us have to endure before we know better! Why, William, you're going into the circus without paying for a ticket. You're laying down the burden before you climb the hill. And in your case, William, you are fortunate indeed; for there are some little soldiers in this world already handicapped when they begin the battle of life…. Their parents haven't fitted them for the struggle…. Like little moon moths,—they look in at the windows; they beat at the panes; they see the lights of happy firesides—the lights of home; but they never get in…. You are one of these wanderers, William…. And so, it is well for you that before your playing time is over—before your man's work begins,—you're going to know the great secret. Happy boy! No coarsening of your child's heart, until you stand before the world like Frederik; no sweat and toil such as dear old James is facing; no dimming of the eye and trembling of the hand such as the poor old Doctor shall know in time to come; no hot tears to blister your eyes, … tears such as Katie is shedding now; but, in all your youth, your faith—your innocence,—you'll fall asleep and oh! the awakening, William!… "It is well with the child." [WILLIAM lays down the cake and, clasping his hands, thinks. PETER answers his thoughts.] What? No—don't think of it! Nonsense! You don't want to grow up to be a man. Grow up to fail? Or, still worse—to succeed—to be famous? To wear a heavy laurel wreath? A wreath to be held up by tired hands that ache for one hour's freedom. No, no, you're to escape all that, William; joy is on the way to meet you with sweets in its outstretched hands and laughter on its lips. [WILLIAM takes the last swallow of a piece of cake, exclaims "Hm!" in a satisfied way, brushes the crumbs off his lap, and sits back in his chair.] Have you had enough? Good! William, I want you to try to understand that you're to help me, will you? Will you tell Miss Catherine that—

WILLIAM. [Without looking up, his hands folded in his lap.] Take me back with you, Mr. Grimm?

PETER. Can you see me, William?

WILLIAM. No, sir; but I know.

PETER. Come here. [WILLIAM doesn't move.] Here … here … [WILLIAM advances to the center of the room and pauses hesitatingly.] Take my hand … [WILLIAM approaches in the direction of the voice. PETER takes WILLIAM'S outstretched hand.] Have you got it?

WILLIAM. No, sir….

PETER. [Putting his hand on WILLIAM'S head.] Now?… Do you feel it?

WILLIAM. I feel something, yes, sir. [Puts his hand on PETER'S hand, which is still on his head.] But where's your hand? There's nothing there.

PETER. But you hear me?

WILLIAM. I can't really hear you…. It's a dream. [Coaxingly.] Oh, Mr.
Grimm, take me back with you.

PETER. You're not quite ready to go with me yet, William—not until we can see each other face to face.

WILLIAM. Why did you come back, Mr. Grimm? Wasn't it nice where you were?

PETER. It was indeed. It was like—[Whimsically.]—new toys.

WILLIAM. [To whom the idea appeals.] As nice as that!

PETER. Nicer. But I had to come back with this message. I want you to help me to deliver it. [Indicating the picture.

WILLIAM. Where's the bosom of Abraham, Mr. Grimm?

PETER. Eh?

WILLIAM. The minister says you're asleep there.

PETER. Stuff and nonsense! I haven't been near the bosom of Abraham.

WILLIAM. Too bad you died before you went to the circus, Mr. Grimm. But it must be great to be in a place where you can look down and see the circus for nothing. Do you remember the clown that sang: "Uncle Rat has gone to town?"

PETER. Yes, indeed; but let us talk of something more important. Come here, William [He starts towards the desk.]; would you like to see someone whom all little boys love—love more than anybody else in the whole world? [PETER is standing at the desk with his finger on the torn pieces of the picture.

WILLIAM. Yes, the clown in the circus…. No … it isn't a clown; … it's our mother…. Yes, I want to see my mother, Annamarie. [Unconsciously WILLIAM comes to the desk and sees the torn picture— picks up a piece and looks at it. Very simply.] Why … there she is!… That's her face.

PETER. Ah! You recognize her. Mother's face is there, William, but it's in little bits. We must put her together, William. We must show her to everybody in the house, so that everybody will say: "How in the world did she ever get here? To whom does this picture belong?" We must set them to thinking.

WILLIAM. Yes. Let us show her to everybody. [He sits and joins the pieces under the guidance of PETER.] Annamarie … Annamarie …

PETER. You remember many things, William … things that happened when you lived with Annamarie, don't you?

WILLIAM. I was very little….

PETER. Still, you remember….

WILLIAM. [Evasively.] I was afraid….

PETER. You loved her.

WILLIAM. [To picture.] Oh, yes … yes, I loved you.

PETER. Now, through that miracle of love, you can remember many things tucked away in your childish brain,—things laid away in your mind like toys upon a shelf. Come, pick them up and dust them off and bring them out again. It will come back. When you lived with Annamarie … there was you … and Annamarie … and—

WILLIAM. —and the other one.

PETER. Ah! We're getting nearer! Who was the other one?

WILLIAM. [Gives a quick glance towards the door—then as though speaking to the picture.] I must put you together before he comes back. [He fits the other pieces together—PETER trying to guide him. Presently WILLIAM hums as a child will when at play, singing the tune of "Uncle Rat."] "Uncle Rat has gone to town."

PETER and WILLIAM. [Singing together.] "Ha! H'm!" [At this instant,
PETER is indicating another piece of the picture.

WILLIAM. Her other foot. [Then sings.]

  "Uncle Rat has gone to town,
  To buy his niece a wedding gown."

[Adjusting a piece of the picture.] Her hand.

WILLIAM and PETER. [Singing.] "Ha! H'm!"

WILLIAM. Her other hand. [Sings.] "What shall the wedding breakfast be? Hard boiled eggs and—" [Speaking.] Where's—[WILLIAM pauses—looking for a piece of the picture.

PETER. [Finishing the verse.] "A cup of tea." [With a gesture as though knocking on the door of the adjoining room to attract MRS. BATHOLOMMEY'S attention.

WILLIAM. [Speaks.] There's her hat.

WILLIAM and PETER. [Singing.] "Ha! H'm!"

WILLIAM. [Stops singing and claps his hands with boyish delight—staring at the picture.] Annamarie! Annamarie! You're not in bits any more— you're all put together.

By this time, PETER is going up the stairs, and, as he stands in front of CATHERINE'S door, it opens. PETER passes in and CATHERINE comes out.

CATHERINE. [Astonished.] Why, William! What are you doing here?

WILLIAM. Miss Catherine! Come down! Come down! I have something to show you.

CATHERINE. [Not coming down.] No, dear—come upstairs; there's a good boy. You mustn't play down there. Come to bed. [Passes into WILLIAM'S room.

MRS. BATHOLOMMEY. [Who has entered, and sees WILLIAM..] William!

WILLIAM. Look—look! [Pointing to the picture.] See what old Mr. Grimm brought back with him.

MRS. BATHOLOMMEY. [Alarmed.] What are you talking about, William? Old
Mr. Grimm is dead.

WILLIAM. No, he isn't; … he's come back…. He has been in this room.

MRS. BATHOLOMMEY. Absurd!

WILLIAM. I was talking to him.

MRS. BATHOLOMMEY. You're feverish again. I must get the Doctor. [Comes down to WILLIAM.] And I thought you were feeling better! [Seeing CATHERINE, who appears on the balcony as though wondering why WILLIAM doesn't come to bed.] The child's mind is wandering. He imagines all sorts of things. I'll call the Doctor—

PETER. [Who has re-entered.] You needn't—he's coming now. Come in,
Andrew. I'm giving you one more chance.

The DOCTOR enters, wearing his skull-cap, and carrying his pipe in his hand. It is evident that he has come over in a hurry.

MRS. BATHOLOMMEY. [Surprised.] I was just going for you. How fortunate that you came.

DR. MACPHERSON. I thought I'd have another peep at William.

By this time, CATHERINE has seated herself on a chair, and takes WILLIAM on her lap. He puts his arms round her neck.

MRS. BATHOLOMMEY. He's quite delirious.

DR. MACPHERSON. Doesn't look it. [Putting his hand on WILLIAM'S cheek and forehead.] Very slight fever. What makes you think he was delirious? [Taking WILLIAM'S pulse.

MRS. BATHOLOMMEY. [Interrupting.] He said that old Mr. Grimm was in this room—that he was talking to him.

DR. MACPHERSON. [Interested.] Yes? Really? Well, possibly he is. Nothing remarkable in that, is there?

PETER. Well, at last!

MRS. BATHOLOMMEY. What? Oh, of course, you believe in—

DR. MACPHERSON. In fact, I had a compact with him to return if—

MRS. BATHOLOMMEY. A compact? Of all the preposterous—

DR. MACPHERSON. Not at all. Dozens of cases on record—as I can show you— where these compacts have actually been kept. [Suddenly struck—looking at WILLIAM.] I wonder if that boy's a sensitive. [Hand on his chin.] I wonder …

CATHERINE. [Echoing the DOCTOR'S words.] A sensitive?

MRS. BATHOLOMMEY. What's that?

DR. MACPHERSON. It's difficult to explain. I mean a human organism so constituted that it can be informed or controlled by those who—er— have—[With a gesture.] crossed over.

MRS. BATHOLOMMEY. I think I'll put the boy to bed, Doctor.

DR. MACPHERSON. Just a moment, Mistress Batholommey. I'm here to find out what ails William. William, what makes you think that Mr. Grimm is in this room?

MRS. BATHOLOMMEY. I wouldn't have the child encouraged in such ideas,
Catherine. I—

DR. MACPHERSON. Sh! Please, please. [Taking the boy on his knee.] What makes you think Peter Grimm is in this room?

WILLIAM. [Hesitating.] … The things he said to me.

MRS. BATHOLOMMEY. Said to you?

CATHERINE. [Wonderingly.] William, … are you sure he …

DR. MACPHERSON. Said to you, eh? [WILLIAM nods assent.] Old Mr. Grimm?
[WILLIAM nods.] Sure of that, William?

WILLIAM. Oh. yes, sir.

DR. MACPHERSON. Think before you speak, my boy; what did Mr. Grimm say to you?

WILLIAM. Lots of things …

MRS. BATHOLOMMEY. Really!

DR. MACPHERSON. [Raises his hand for silence.] How did he look, William?

WILLIAM. I didn't see him.

MRS. BATHOLOMMEY. Ha!

DR. MACPHERSON. You must have seen something.

WILLIAM. I thought once I saw his hat on the peg where it used to hang. [Looks at the peg.] No, it's gone.

MRS. BATHOLOMMEY. [Remonstrating.] Doctor!

DR. MACPHERSON. [Thinking.] I wonder if he really did—

CATHERINE. Do you think he could have seen Uncle Peter?

PETER. [Pointing to the desk.] William!

WILLIAM. Look! … [Points to the picture.] That's what I wanted to show you when you were upstairs.

CATHERINE. [Seeing the picture.] It's his mother—Annamarie.

MRS. BATHOLOMMEY. The Lord save us—his mother! I didn't know you'd heard from Annamarie.

CATHERINE. We haven't.

MRS. BATHOLOMMEY. Then how'd that picture get into the house?

PETER. Ah! I knew she'd begin! Now that she's wound up, we shall get at the truth.

MRS. BATHOLOMMEY. It's a new picture. She's much changed. How ever did it find its way here?

CATHERINE. I never saw it before. It's very strange…. We've all been waiting for news of her. Even her mother doesn't know where she is, or— could Marta have received this since I—

MRS. BATHOLOMMEY. I'll ask her. [Exit into dining-room.

CATHERINE. If not, who had the picture?… And why weren't we all told?… Who tore it up? Did you, William? [WILLIAM shakes his head, meaning "No."] Who has been at the desk? No one save Frederik … Frederik … and surely he—[She pauses—perplexed.

MRS. BATHOLOMMEY. [Re-entering.] No, Marta hasn't heard a word; and, only a few minutes ago, she asked Frederik if some message hadn't come, but he said "No, nothing." I didn't tell her of the picture.

CATHERINE. [Looking at the picture.] I wonder if there was any message with it.

MRS. BATHOLOMMEY. I remember the day that picture came … the day your uncle died…. It was in a long blue envelope—the size of the picture…. I took it from the postman myself because every one was distracted and rushing about. It dropped to the floor and as I picked it up I thought I knew the writing; but I couldn't remember whose it was…. It was directed to your uncle…. [Looking from the desk to the waste-basket.] There's the envelope [Holding up a scrap of blue envelope.] and paper; … some one has burned it.

CATHERINE. Annamarie wrote to my uncle …

DR. MACPHERSON. [Not understanding.] But what could Peter have to say to me concerning Annamarie? [Making a resolution—rising.] We're going to find out. You may draw the curtains, Catherine, if you please. [CATHERINE draws the curtains. The DOCTOR turns the lights down and closes the door. A pause.] Peter Grimm …

PETER. Yes, Andrew?…

DR. MACPHERSON. [Not hearing.] If you have come back … if you are in the room … and the boy speaks truly—give me some sign … some indication …

PETER. I can't give you a sign, Andrew…. I have spoken to the boy … the boy …

DR. MACPHERSON. If you cannot make your presence known to me—I know there are great difficulties—will you try and send your message by William? I presume you have one—

PETER. Yes, that's right.

DR. MACPHERSON. —or else you wouldn't have come back.

PETER. That's just the point I wanted to make, Andrew. You understand perfectly.

DR. MACPHERSON. [As before.] I am waiting…. We are all waiting. [Noticing that a door is a trifle ajar.] The door's open again. [MRS. BATHOLOMMEY, without making a sound, closes it and sits as before.

PETER. Sh! Listen! [A pause.

WILLIAM. [In a peculiar manner—as though in a half dream—but not shutting his eyes. As though controlled by PETER.] There was Annamarie and me and the other.

DR. MACPHERSON. [Very low, as though afraid to interrupt WILLIAM'S train of thought.] What other?

WILLIAM. The man … that came.

DR. MACPHERSON. What man?

WILLIAM. The man that made Annamarie cry.

CATHERINE. Who was he?

WILLIAM. I don't know …

PETER. Yes, you do. Don't tell lies, William.

DR. MACPHERSON. What man made Annamarie cry?

WILLIAM. I can't remember….

PETER. Yes, you can…. You're afraid….

CATHERINE. [In a low voice.] So you do remember the time when you lived
with Annamarie; … you always told me that you didn't … [To DR.
MACPHERSON.] I must know more of this—[Pauses abruptly.] Think,
William, who came to the house?

PETER. That's what I asked you, William.

WILLIAM. That's what he asked …

DR. MACPHERSON. Who?

WILLIAM. Mr. Grimm.

DR. MACPHERSON. When, William?

WILLIAM. Just now …

CATHERINE and MRS. BATHOLOMMEY. [Together.] Just now!

DR. MACPHERSON. H'm…. You both ask the same question, eh? The man that came to see—

MRS. BATHOLOMMEY. [Perplexed.] It can't be possible that the child knows what he's talking about.

DR. MACPHERSON. [Ignoring her.] What did you tell Mr. Grimm when he asked you?

PETER. You'd better make haste, William. Frederik is coming back.

WILLIAM. [Looking uneasily over his shoulder.] I'm afraid.

CATHERINE. Why does he always look towards that door? You're not afraid now, William?

WILLIAM. [Looking towards the door.] N-no—but…. Please, please don't let Mr. Frederik come back. 'Cause then I'll be afraid again.

DR. MACPHERSON. Ah!

PETER. William! William!

WILLIAM. [Rising quickly.] Yes, Mr. Grimm?

PETER. You must say that I am very unhappy.

WILLIAM. He says he is very unhappy.

DR. MACPHERSON. Why is he unhappy?… Ask him.

WILLIAM. Why are you unhappy, Mr. Grimm?

PETER. I am thinking of Catherine's future….

WILLIAM. [Not understanding the last word—puzzled.] Eh?

PETER. To-morrow …

WILLIAM. [After a slight pause.] To-morrow …

PETER. Catherine's—

WILLIAM. [Looks at CATHERINE—hesitating.] Your—[Stops. CATHERINE gives the DOCTOR a quick glance—she seems to divine the message.

DR. MACPHERSON. [Prompting.] Her—

CATHERINE. What, William? What of to-morrow?

PETER. She must not marry Frederik.

WILLIAM. I mustn't say that.

DR. MACPHERSON. What?

WILLIAM. What he wanted me to say. [Points towards PETER. All instinctively look towards the spot to which WILLIAM points, but they see no one.

PETER. [Speaking slowly to the boy.] Catherine—must—not—marry
Frederik Grimm.

DR. MACPHERSON. Speak, William. No one will hurt you.

WILLIAM. Oh, yes, he will…. [Looking timidly towards the door FREDERIK passed through.] I don't want to tell his name—'cause … 'cause …

DR. MACPHERSON. Why don't you tell the name, William?

PETER. Make haste, William, make haste.

WILLIAM. [Trembling.] I'm afraid … I'm afraid … he will make
Annamarie cry; … he makes me cry …

CATHERINE. [With suppressed excitement—half to herself.] Why are you afraid of him? Was Frederik the man that came to see Annamarie?

MRS. BATHOLOMMEY. Catherine!

CATHERINE. [On her knees before WILLIAM.] Was he? Was it Frederik Grimm?
Tell me, William.

MRS. BATHOLOMMEY. Surely you don't believe …

CATHERINE. [In a low voice.] I've thought of a great many things to-day … little things … little things I'd never noticed before…. I'm putting them together just as he put that picture together…. I must know the truth.

PETER. William, make haste…. Frederik is listening at the door.

WILLIAM. [Frightened.] I won't say any more. He's there … at the door … [He looks over his shoulder and CATHERINE goes towards the door.

DR. MACPHERSON. William, tell me.

PETER. William!

CATHERINE opens the door suddenly. FREDERIK is standing, listening. He is taken unawares and for a few seconds he does not move—then he recovers.

WILLIAM. Please don't let him scold me. I'm afraid of him. [Going towards the stairs—looking at FREDERIK.] I was afraid of him when I lived with Annamarie and he came to see us and made her cry.

DR. MACPHERSON. Are you sure you remember that? Weren't you too small?

WILLIAM. No, I do remember…. I always did remember; only for a little while I—I forgot…. I must go to bed. He told me to. [Goes upstairs.

PETER. [Calling after WILLIAM.] You're a good boy, William. [WILLIAM goes to his room.

CATHERINE. [After a slight pause—simply.] Frederik, you've heard from Annamarie…. [Gestures towards the desk. FREDERIK sees the photograph and is silent.] You've had a letter from her. You tried to destroy it. Why did you tell Marta that you'd had no message—no news? You went to see her, too. Why did you tell me that you'd never seen her since she went away? Why did you lie to me? Why do you hate that child?

FREDERIK. Are you going to believe what that boy—

CATHERINE. I'm going to find out. I'm going to find out where she is, before I marry you. That child may be right or wrong; but I'm going to know what his mother was to you. I want the truth.

DR. MACPHERSON. [Who has been in thought—now looking up.] We've heard the truth. We had that message from Peter Grimm himself.

CATHERINE. Yes, it is true. I believe Uncle Peter Grimm was in this room to-night.

FREDERIK. [Not surprised—glancing towards the spot where PETER stood when he thought he saw him.] Oh! You, too? Did you see him, too?

MRS. BATHOLOMMEY. [Incredulously.] Impossible!

CATHERINE. I don't care what anyone else may think—people have the right to think for themselves; but I believe he has been here—he is here. Uncle Peter, if you can hear me now, give me back my promise—or—or I'll take it back!

PETER. [Gently—smilingly—relieved.] I did give it back to you, my dear; but what a time I have had getting it across!

CURTAIN.