The New Woman Part 50

What chance have we? we, who love with our hearts! we, who are simply what G.o.d made us--women! we, to whom love is not a cult--a problem, but just as vital as the air we breathe. Take love away from us, and you take life itself. You have your books, your sciences, your brains!

What have we?--nothing but our broken hearts!

MRS. SYLVESTER.

Broken hearts heal! The things that _you_ call hearts! One love is dead, another takes its place; one man is lost, another man is found.

What is the difference to a love like yours? Oh, there are always men for such women as you!

_By degrees re-enter omnes, R., L., and C., gradually, except GERALD._

MARGERY.

But if the love is not dead? if it's stolen? what is our lot then--ours, whose love's alive? We, who're not skilled to steal--who only want our own----

MRS. SYLVESTER.

Not skilled to steal! have you not stolen mine?

MARGERY.

I have one husband, and I want no other!

[_Murmurs._

LADY WARGRAVE [_restraining her_].

Calm yourself, dear!

MARGERY.

I have been calm too long!

LADY WARGRAVE.

Remember, you are my niece.

MARGERY.

That's what I do remember! [_Murmurs continue._] I am Gerald's wife!

That's what she doesn't forgive me! [_Addressing MRS. SYLVESTER._] You call yourself a New Woman--you're not New at all. You're just as old as Eve. You only want one thing--the one thing every woman wants--the one thing that no woman's life's worth living without! A true man's love! Ah, if we all had that, there'd be no problem of the s.e.xes then.

I had it once. Heaven help me, I have lost it! I've done my best--it isn't much, but it's the best I can. I give it up! If you have robbed me of his love, my own is left to me; and if the future's yours, the past is mine. He loved me once, and I shall love him always!

[_Exit, C._

ACT IV.

_A Month Later._

SCENE:--_An orchard at Mapledurham. Farmhouse at back, C. Paths off, R. and L. front. A cl.u.s.ter of trees, R., at back. A few stumps of trees to serve as seats._

_MARGERY discovered, standing on a ladder placed against one of the trees, gathering apples, which she throws into a basket below. She is dressed in peasant costume._

_Enter ARMSTRONG, C._

ARMSTRONG.

Margery!

MARGERY.

Yes, dad!

ARMSTRONG [_comes underneath the tree and roars with laughter_].

Here's a slice of luck! That fellow in London wants the grey mare back again!

MARGERY [_who has come down_].

The grey mare, father?

ARMSTRONG.

Old Dapple! you remember her?

MARGERY.

Of course! but what about her?

ARMSTRONG.

Bless me, haven't I told you? I sold old Dapple to a chap in London.

MARGERY [_reproachfully_]

You sold old Dapple?

ARMSTRONG.

She's too good for hereabouts. True, she's a splint on the off leg, but what's a splint? I sold her without warranty, and buyer took her with all faults, just as she stood.

MARGERY.

Well, dad?

ARMSTRONG.

Darn me, if the next day he didn't cry off his bargain!