MARY. They"d separate us.
JOE. At least you and the kiddie"d have food.
MARY. They"d separate us. And I love you, Joe. My poor, poor Joe! I love you.
[_She nestles up to him and takes his hand._
JOE. [_Holding her hand in his, and bending over her._] You forgive me for returning the purse?
MARY. [_Dropping her head on his shoulder._] Forgive you! You were right.
It was the cold and the hunger maddened me. You were right!
JOE. [_Springing to his feet, with sudden pa.s.sion._ MARY _staggers back._]
I _wasn"t_ right--I was a coward, a criminal--a vile and wicked fool.
MARY. [_Startled._] Joe!
JOE. I had money there--money in my hand--money that you need so badly, you, the woman I love with all my ragged soul--money that would have put food into the body of my little girl--money that was mine, that belonged to me--and I"ve given it back, because of my rotten honesty! What right have I to be honest? They"ve made a dog of me--what business had I to remember I was a man?
MARY. [_Following him and laying a hand on his arm._] Hush, Joe--you"ll wake Minnie.
JOE. [_Turning and staring haggardly at her._] I could have got clothes--a job, perhaps--we might have left this cellar. We could have gone out to-morrow and bought things--gone into shops--we might have had food, coal--
MARY. Don"t, Joe--what"s the use? And who knows--it may prove a blessing to us. You told the policeman where we lived?
JOE. A blessing! I"ll get up to-morrow, after having coughed out my lungs all night--and I"ll go into the streets and walk there from left to right and from right to left, standing at this corner and at that, peering into men"s faces, watching people go to their shops and their offices, people who are warm and comfortable--and so it will go on, till the end comes.
MARY. [_Standing very close to him, almost in a whisper._] Why not now, Joe?
JOE. [_With a startled glance at her._] The end?
MARY. There"s no room for us in this world--
JOE. If I"d taken that money--
MARY. It"s too late for that now. And I"m glad you didn"t--yes, I am--I"m glad. We"ll go before G.o.d clean-handed. And we"ll say to Him we didn"t steal, or do anything He didn"t want us too. And we"ll tell Him we"ve died because people wouldn"t allow us to live.
JOE. [_With a shudder._] No. Not that--we"ll wait, Mary. Don"t speak of that.
MARY. [_Wistfully._] You"ve thought of it too?
JOE. Thought of it! Don"t, Mary, don"t! It"s bad enough, in the night, when I lie there and think of to-morrow! Something will happen--it must.
MARY. What? We haven"t a friend in the world.
JOE. I may meet some one I used to know.
MARY. You"ve met them before--they always refuse--
JOE. [_Pa.s.sionately._] I"ve done nothing wrong--I haven"t drunk or gambled--I can"t help being only a clerk, and unable to do heavy work! I can"t help my lungs being weak! I"ve a wife and a child, like other people--and all we ask is to be allowed to live!
MARY. [_Pleading._] Let"s give it up, Joe. Go away together, you"d sleep without coughing. Sleep, that"s all. And G.o.d will be kinder than men.
JOE. [_Groaning._] Don"t, Mary--don"t!
MARY. Joe, I can"t stand it any longer--I can"t. Not only myself--but Minnie--Joe, it"s too much for me! I can"t stand Minnie crying, and asking me for her breakfast, as she will in the morning. Joe, dear Joe, let there be no morning!
JOE. [_Completely overcome._] Oh, Mary, Mary!
MARY. It"s not _your_ fault, dear--you"ve done what you could. Not _your_ fault they won"t let you work--you"ve tried hard enough. And no woman ever had a better husband than you"ve been to me. I love you, dear Joe. And let"s do it--let"s make an end. And take Minnie with us.
JOE. [_Springing up._] Mary, I"ll steal something to-morrow.
MARY. And they"d send you to prison. Besides, then G.o.d would be angry. Now we can go to Him and need not be ashamed. Let us, dear Joe--oh, do let us!
I"m so tired!
JOE. No.
MARY. [_Sorrowfully._] You won"t?
JOE. [_Doggedly._] No. We"ll go to the workhouse.
MARY. You"ve seen them in there, haven"t you?
JOE. Yes.
MARY. You"ve seen them standing at the window, staring at the world? And they"d take you away from me.
JOE. That"s better than--
MARY. [_Firmly._] I won"t do it, Joe. I"ve been a good wife to you--I"ve been a good mother: and I love you, though I"m ragged and have p.a.w.ned all my clothes; and I"ll strangle myself rather than go to the workhouse and be shut away from you.
JOE. [_With a loud cry._] No! I"ll _make_ them give me something; and if I _have_ to kill, it shan"t be my wife and child! To-morrow I"ll come home with food and money--to-morrow--
[_There is a sudden wail from the child;_ JOE _stops and stares at her;_ MARY _goes quickly to the mattress and soothes the little girl._
MARY. Hush, dear, hush--no it"s not morning yet, not time for breakfast.
Go to sleep again, dear. Yes, daddy"s come back, and things are going to be all right now--No, dear, you can"t be hungry, really--remember those beautiful cakes. Go to sleep, Minnie, dear. You"re cold? [_She takes off her ragged shawl and wraps it round the child._] There, dear, you won"t be cold now. Go to sleep, Minnie--
[_The child"s wail dies away, as_ MARY _soothes her back to sleep._
JOE. [_Staggering forward with a sudden cry._] G.o.d, O G.o.d, give us bread!
THE CURTAIN SLOWLY FALLS