Poems (Storrie)/An Empty Glass
Appearance
An Empty Glass.
"And when thyself, with shining foot shall pass Among the guests star-scattered on the grass And in thy joyous errand reach the spot Where I made one . . . turn down an empty glass."—OMAR KHYYAM. Stanza LXXV.
Dramatis Persona—
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Scene I.
[Hortense Terry, seated alone in sitting-room of a Woman's Club. She is a tall, handsome woman, elegantly dressed. She paces the floor restlessly, then takes up a pen to continue some correspondence. Throws it down suddenly and recommences pacing to and fro.]
Hortense—Yes! yes! I knew life had its deserts, dry, Waterless, and wracked by fierce simoons. I never thought to pine in one myself, To feel its searing winds upon my heart, So long beneath the palm trees have I dwelt Hearing the ripple of a living stream Laving a living shore. An outcast! I? Who dared to say if? Yet what would I care To be pariah in this empty world If still I reigned imperially to him Ah! that is where it cuts deep, deep, into The very essence of me. It has come, The blight my prescience saw while yet the flower Ravished my senses with its matchless bloom. Illicit love holds at its very core The canker that destroys it, and, Oh! well I knew within the kernel of my mind That I should some day pay a bitter price For these dear dreams. Only to think of them Will sanctify the Hades still to come.
Hades? ah! A woman scorned———Yes, let her tell of Hades, she who knows. To leave me thus—Oh, coward blow! Tear out my heartstrings, let the jagged ends Still quiver on, ay! crush my demon pride 'Gainst any iron wheel of circumstance, My fortitude would fail not, so I saw The hand that slew me was the hand I love. But Max! to stab me with this poisoned blade Of silence. Just to drop me in the void Without a word or sign—too light to stir The balance of his careless memory, Too light to shake the poising of his mind. I, who have known to stand within his soul And see myself in beauty mirrored there. I who have known—Oh! turn my living brain To chaos, blast my very power to think So only I am kept from thoughts like these—And yet—and yet———
[Enter, hurriedly, Mabel Frere. Looks round, nodsshortly to Hortense. Goes into adjoining room, returns,throws herself into a chair, grasping her temples withboth hands.]
Nurse Frere—
"Oh Heavens! this is awful! simply awful, What shall I do? Where is she? Idiot! Fool! To break her word at such a time! My head! Whatever shall I do?
[Goes to telephone, rings up, then drops receiver andwalks distractedly about.]
[To Hortense, who has resumed her writing.]
Nurse Frere—Did you—? Oh! have you seen Nurse Grey—you knowEmmie? Nurse Grey? has she been here to-day?She promised she'd be here at three—my head!Oh! heavens! it will split. She said—she said———
Hortense [coldly]—Yes, she was here, not half an hour ago,She said to tell you that she had been calledQuite suddenly—her brother's child is ill,And dying, I should judge by what she said.The message came for her when she was here.A child she seems to dote on—had some fit—They needed her at once. She seemed to loseHer head, as you have done, and rushed away.I said I'd tell you how the thing occurred,That is her basket, she will send for it.
Nurse F.—She had to go? What foolery! She knewThat I was counting on her—left my caseSure she would take it. What am I to do?And who am I to get, I'd like to know?There's no one—every single nurse engaged, My head is splitting—to upset my plans—For some ridiculous child, and leave me here Mad with neuralgia! What am I to do? She said she'd go—I told them she'd be there Within an hour—and Mrs. Arnold said———
Hortense—Who?
Nurse F.—Why, Mrs. Arnold. Oh, my head! my head!
Hortense—Silence about your head. Now tell me quick What Arnold? Who is ill? and when? and how?
Nurse F.—You needn't break my arm, your grip's like steel, You make me feel quite sick, leave go I say! It's Mr. Arnold, Max, the barrister, Oh! but you hurt! and typhoid—virulent. He's very bad, in fact, he can't be worse, Delirious, and a shocking temperature. I take the night—his wife—you know they are Just lately married—she's an heiress, too, They say that's why he—oh! at any rate She takes the nursing in the day—insists—And will not have another nurse. I knew The work would fall on me. You know how 'tis, You dare not trust them, and you work and work, And then neuralgia gripped me, and for days I've just been crazy, and I must have sleep, And Emmie Grey—I rang her up, she said She'd come and take him for me till my head Was better. Now the wretch! what shall I do? The doctor will be savage too, I know, He's such a fidget, and he will not have A nurse who is a stranger, and it seems That all his own are fully occupied. This influenza raging everywhere—I got him to consent to Emmie Grey; Altho' he never saw her, he has heard About her, and he said that she would do. I rang her up, she said she'd meet me here At three, and take it on, and now—and now———
Hortense—Oh hush! you whining woman, listen now, With all your ears. [Aside: My heart! 'tis only death! Poor mortal death I have to fight against, And I shall conquer, darling. I shall snatch Your life from his cold clutches, and within The warm core of my heart renourish you. Oh! typhoid! only typhoid—virulent—Oh, only this, and not forgetfulness.] [Aloud] Who is the doctor?
Nurse F.—Lamont of Worthington, and Templer called In consultation, and they speak of Dix, But what's the good of keeping me in talk And wasting all my time? Here, let me go—Hortense! I must, I've got to find a nurse.
Hortense—Be silent! let me think. The doctors—h'm—They never saw me—that's alright, and Grey, Emmie—yes—lucky! she is dark—And much my height, and here's her luggage—Yes, This basket. Open it. Don't be a fool. Obey me instantly. That's better. Now—These skirts—exactly right, the very length, And blouses, collars, cuffs, and aprons, caps, I do not like the aprons, you shall go And buy me others later. Ninny! cease, I tell you I shall save you by my plan. Now listen. You—yon, Mabel Frere, you poor Neuralgic victim. You know who I am?
Nurse F.—I know you were a nurse. I know we lived Together once. But that was long ago. 'Tis years since I have seen yon. You are changed, Much changed. They say that you have been abroad, I don't know where, and have, they say, become———
Hortense—Yes, been abroad, and have, they say, become———?
Nurse F.—Well, something of a beauty, and have left Our poor profession, that is all I know, Or want to know, you always frightened me. You were so headstrong, and so passionate, And now, what is it that you mean to do?
Hortense—You know I was a nurse. Now, do you know What kind of nurse? a good one? or a poor? Successful may be? or obscure—as you?
Nurse F.—I never nursed with you, how can I know?
Hortense—'Tis to your interest that you know. RecallWhat you have heard. Did I rank high or low?
Nurse F.—Oh high! you know. What use to bother me?
Hortense—You may perhaps remember to have heardWhat Dr. Randall used to say of me?Yes? You remember? I am glad. Now think,Would you consider me as competentTo take this case as any nurse you know?
Nurse F.—Why! why—I never thought you meant—you see,'Tis years since you have nursed, I cannot know———
Hortense—Ah! but I understood that you did know.Just think again, and tell me if you couldQuite safely recommend me in your place?
Nurse F.—Oh! yes, no doubt I could,but what of it?
Hortense—This of it, I am going to take your case And nurse your patient while you get a rest. It does not suit me that my real name Should be disclosed, so I shall take these things, Nurse Grey's, her basket, and her uniform, And call myself Nurse Grey, and you shall guard This secret with your life. Oh yes! you shall, You'll say you never saw the basket here, Suggest it has been stolen, gone astray. You'll take these sovereigns, and buy postal notes And send them to Nurse Grey without a word Or sign of any kind, 'twill recompense. And you will say, when the occasion comes, That some one found a nurse, you do not know Exactly who it was—some Melbourne girl. Call black things white, and never turn a hair, And guard this secret as you do your life. If you betray me—you—you—Mabel Frere, Or by a careless word let drop a hint, I'll pay you, never fear! I'll pay you well. There's more in this than you can understand. More hangs on it than your poor head can guess. It matters not to you what it may mean, But keep this thought before you all the time, That if it fails, 'twere better you were dead. Your memory of me is not good, I know, But you'll remember that I keep my word. Remember also that I never ask For service unrequited. You shall have The fees I earn, yes, every penny piece Shall go to you, and here's a week's advance. It happens, happily, my purse is full, And that same purse is deeper than it was In those old days you know of. I shall see You do not suffer. If you ring me up, Or write to me, or drop the faintest hint, Or let my name leak out in any way, You'll learn what kind of thing I call revenge. Now I shall go and get a drug for you, That will relieve your head, and you must stay Here till I come. Lie there and wait for me. Then you shall tell me details of the case That I may know just where to take it up, Now you can ring up Mrs. Arnold, say Nurse Grey is leaving, will be at her house In half an hour. Wait here till I return. [Exit Hortense.]
Nurse F.—Good heavens! what a woman! What will come Of this God knows. For me I do not care, I'm wax between her fingers. How she looked! She frightens me. A tigress. Oh my head!
Act II.
[Max Arnold's sick room. Arnold in bed, muttersdeliriously. Mrs. Arnold anxiously tries to calm him.Enter Hortense in nurse's uniform, attends to somethingat end of room.]
Max—Oh moon of my delight, who knowest no wane, Oh moon of my delight, oh moon! oh moon!—What was it that I said? What was it, Rose?
Rose Arnold [weeping]—Oh, nothing, dearest. 'Twas not anything, Just some—some idle words about the moon. Nothing of consequence. Now will you take A spoonful? only one, my dearest, try!
Max—No! No! I hate it. Go, leave me alone, Oh! hot as Hades! What's the use? Too hot, Too hot, I tell you. So, your Honour, as The plaintiff used the words with that intent 'Tis useless to deny that now he is———Among the guests star-scattered on the grass, And when thyself with shining foot shall pass, And in thy joyous errand reach the spot Where I made one, turn down—turn down—turn down———Oh turn down what? Oh! tell me quickly what? I've searched so long, all down the lonely lanes Long, and so lonely and so burning hot———Surely you know? thy shining foot shall pass Thy slender shining foot, and reach the spot Where I made one, turn down—turn down—turn down———
Hortense—An empty glass, turn down an empty glass, But not until you drink this medicine. Yes—that is right. Now you can go to sleep. A little sleep, a little quiet sleep, There now, that's cooler. Now you'll go to sleep.
[Patient ceases muttering; takes medicine; and dozes.]
Mrs. Arnold—Why, Nurse! That's magic! How was it you knew? Or did you only guess? I never can. I cannot follow when he talks like that, So incoherently. I only seem To irritate him. When you spoke he turned As if you'd touched a spring, then lay quite still. Nurse Frere could never soothe him as you do. How wonderful! He raves sometimes for hours, And I can only cry, and make him worse. He's very ill. If you could only know The dreadful change I see in him. Oh dear! He's just a wreck. He has such lovely eyes, And is so gay and handsome, when he's well. What is it in your voice that soothes him so?
Hortense— Oh! just a little knack I have with children and with invalids. You must not stay to talk. You're overwrought, You see that I can manage him. Now go And get some rest and I will let you know If he should wake. This little quiet sleep Will help him greatly. I will let you know, Yes! Yes! I promise, when the Doctor comes.
[Exit Mrs. Arnold.]
[Hortense steps quietly about arranging chart, light,etc. Then kneels beside the bed, takes patient's head onher arm, saying softly]—
Max! Beloved! How his fevered soul In all its blind delirium knew my voice, And answered. Oh! my lover, fallen low! I hold him in the hollow of my hand For all his legal bonds, his home, his wife, His satisfied ambition, wealth, and power, His foot upon the giddy rungs of fame, And all those things for which he hungered so, Whose price was coined from his heart and mine, From all of these he turns heart-sick to me, A lost ship to its haven. In my voice His only comfort, and my breast his home. My brilliant barrister! My budding Judge! My rising star that lights the legal sky, My silver-throated orator whose proudAnd eager hand, disdaining lesser thingsWas stretched to pluck the very topmost fruitUpon the topmost bough, and here it lies!Content to clasp weak fingers in my own.Oh Max, my lover! And shall I begrudgeThis poor pale heiress all her legal rights,Her shadowy status while I hold you thusLinked to me by a chain she cannot break,Unlawful though it be. He stirs! he wakes.This is my only chance. If he is saneI must so saturate his mind and brainWith this imposture that delirium shallNot wrest the secret from him. Max! Dear Heart,Hortense is here, these are her very hands,This is her voice, these, Darling, are her lips.Nay! but, my dearest, do not strangle me.I will not go. I swear I will not go.I've come to nurse you. You are very ill.But I shall nurse you. Only listen, Max,You must not say you know me. I'm Nurse Grey.Remember just Nurse Grey, and no one else.If you forget, yes, even once forget,They'll send me far away. You understand? 'Tis only by deception I can stay. Nurse Grey! You shall remember.
Max—Nurse Grey? Yes! anything so that you stay. May I die raving if my worthless tongue Betrays the only name it loves. Hortense! Where have I been? Oh, hold me, keep me, dear, Back from those awful places. Cursed I am, Cursed, to the very coward soul of me. The depths that I have plumbed! Hortense! Hortense! How have I slaughtered honour, by what vile Unnatural crime have I divorced our lives, A threefold murder, yours and hers, and mine.
Hortense—Hush! Hush! You must not talk. You must not think. Put all the past behind you. Just be still, Remember I'm Nurse Grey. Know nothing more. These ghosts that gibber at you, I can lay, These wounds that fester in you, I can heal With one touch of my hand. And here's a kiss, A charm to keep you safe from evil thoughts. Now sleep, my dearest. You shall soon be well. Sleep quietly. I am watching. I will stay.
[Max sleeps. Hortense rises, examines medicines,reads directions on bottle, smells, and tastes the mixture.]
Hortense—So this is what they're giving him. I see. Ten drops in every hour. Here in my hand I hold the key of this entanglement. Ten drops, and weak and feeble as he is Another ten and all were over. Free His fettered life. My jealous heart assuaged. Another ten, and he would still be mine, The lover of my youth. My own! My own! That he should live means, let me think it out, A few sweet moments stolen from the dark, A flash of rapture edged with jagged pain, Slow convalescence. Kisses poison-sweet Caught at the verges of a sheer abyss, The hot blood boiling in my jealous veins At hideous tension. Just one fatal glance, One word unguarded, one untutored look, And scandal hundred-mouthed would grin at me. And if I should escape, there still would be The torture of her presence, and her voice, The note of ownership, her claiming hands, The imbecile unloosing of her tears, Her wifely rights. By heaven! I feel my teeth Gritting already, as a lioness Snarls in her throat at footsteps near her cubs, And draws her muscles ready for the spring. I was not made for such restraints as these, I should go mad. And just another ten, No alien hand should ever lie in his, No lips taste his. He'd he forever mine Through all the ages, and what easier Than I to follow, plunging in the calm And icy sea of Death this quivering brain That only feels to suffer. Cold and still! How subtly it invites and beckons me. Max cold and still? and dead? Oh Max! and dead! Corruption feeding on his kingly heart, The beauty of his face and on the eyes That light so quick with tenderness, death's scum And horror upon horror. No! No! No! I cannot see him dead. Alive and warm And laughing in the sunlight. Quick and gay, The red blood rioting along his veins, A lustre on his close-clipped hair, my name Springing in liquid syllables of love Upon his lips. Yes! Yes! and he shall live To love me still. To love me? Oh, my heart! Never and never. While these walls of fleshShut in his spirit, while his being bendsBeneath its laws, man-made and man-enforced,While the hereditary brand is stampedUpon his mind, so long shall such as IBe outlawed from the holiest heart of man.So we have bred them. Ay, they shrug and sayConventions are for women, made by themAnd kept alive. Absurd! A woman's heartWould brave the breaking of a thousand laws.A glorious rebel, if but love were true.But man! A something sits behind his heartAnd flinches should the world elect to sneerA code elastic for his pleasures. Yes,And pathways broadly fashioned for himself,And tolerance for all outside the law,But for the woman who would share his nameAnother standard. Ever in his mindThere stalks, though in the background, stark and stiffThat instinct of conventionality.His gold must be hall-marked, his jewel setIn flawless orthodoxy. Ah! I knowThat though I win his intellect and heart,That though his real life is all mine own,Yet I should miss that subtle something, hid Behind his passion, and behind his brain, That faint aroma, holy to his sense That should perfume the woman of his choice, And mark her perfect fitness. Yes. and she, This poor pale heiress—she is crowned withal Standing on this immaculate pedestal. With something all my beauty, all my power Cannot attain. Yes. I could see him dead. And better, better now than dumbly wait To see the certain day of my eclipse. I'll never see it! Now my hand is nerved And I can do it. What's the body's death When measured by the spirit's? We could pass Together now. and never know the pang That waits us living. Yes. I can. I shall. But Max! Beloved! just one little look. One glance at those shut eyelids melts my heart. Live and be happy, darling. Let me pay My bitter debt alone. Be happy. Live. Remembering not my name: a name accursed. And tread an even, blossom-bordered path Beside your wife. His wife! her little child That is to be! the crown of human love. Her little child, that should be his and mine, My heart is hungry for that little child. The immemorial instinct of my sex,The mother in me never roused before,Awakes and cries to hold that child, to feelHis life spring- freshly from my own, and seeHis eyes look at me while the little mouthClings to my breast. Oh, just to bear his child!To link our lives with this so sweet a chain,To watch the current of it mingled deepPass onward through the years and cheat decayBy sending through the ages still to comeOur vital spark, and so, incorporate,Live on for ever. Ah! to hold his child,How proud he'll be to think it is his own!And when the day is done and he comes homeI'll hear his step quick ringing through the hall,And then the sharp unlatching of the door,So headlong, so impetuous, and he'll snatchUs close within his arm—the boy and me—And I shall feel our heart-beats trebled there.He'll stoop his head, I know just how, and pressHis lips upon the nestling downy head,And I shall thrill through every fibre—thrillAnd laugh up in his eyes. Oh God in Heaven!The child will be her child, not mine, not mine.Her breast will feel that little clinging mouth,Her ear will know his step, and she will hear The trebled heartbeats. And for me, for me No child—no husband, just the unquiet ghost Of an evaporated passion. Now I know that I shall do it. Yes! yes! yes! I know that I am mad. So let me be. Here is the drug. Now let it do its work, I can endure no more, the time has come.
[Walks towards bed, with bottle in hand, but avoidslooking at Max.]
The time? to slay my love? Oh Max! dear heart, I meant to kill you! God be merciful To me a sinner. Is it really true? I would have harmed him, cut the slender thread That links him to the living? Heavens above! I meant to kill him. Can it then be true? What am I? and what stayed me? Sure there is An unseen arm cloth hedge defenceless heads. Some spirit stirred, and roused me from my dream, My wicked dream of vengeance. I'm awake, Thank God, and I am sane. Hortense once more, A woman, not a fiend. And he shall live, And I shall like a noxious vapour fade And leave his life untrammelled. He shall be What he was meant to be, noble and good. When I am gone, and I shall surely go—Pass into silence utterly—he'll turn And learn to love his wife. So men are made, The best among them, and those little hands I dreamed of—they will hold him close at home, And draw the sting from memory, and light A new and purer flame upon his hearth. He'll plunge into his work, his fame will grow, And he'll fulfil the promise of his life With wife and child and home and wealth—and I—Now God be merciful to me again, And send some power to strengthen me. I know That I am helped. My heart is lighter now Than it has been for weeks. My thoughts are clear, And I dare face them. Over my dead self My foot steps firmly. Now 'tis time to see My patient. Three o'clock! quite early yet, And still he sleeps. I shall not waken him. Five minutes more and 'twill be time to give The ten drops as directed. Quietly He still sleeps on. I'll kiss him once good-night.
[Turns to bed.]
"Oh dearer, dearer than the ruddy drops That visit my sad heart———"But what? How cold! And pulseless! God above me! What is this? Dead! Max, my lover. No! he would not, could not die And leave me lonely here. You know he loved me. Max! Look up, and speak! No!No! for he is dead. A mightier hand than mine has loosed the knot, And I have lost him. Over the steep rim That fences in the living he is slipped Into the silence of the great abyss, And my wan voice shall echo through the world Forever without answer. Life and love Still surge within my heart, and on my lips, And his are sealed to silence and decay. And when thyself with shining foot shall pass—Turn down—turn down—turn down—an empty glass.
[Falls fainting.]