  Scene: The same as in the previous act, Frank Taylor’s shack at Prentice, but there are signs about it of a woman’s presence. There is a cloth on the table, and a cushion on the rocking-chair, there are muslin curtains on the window tied back with ribband, and there are geraniums growing in maple-syrup tins. There is a rough bookshelf against the wall, on which is Norah’s small stock of books. Coloured supplements from the Christmas numbers of illustrated papers are pinned neatly on the walls. The packing-cases which had been used as stools have been replaced by rough chairs which Taylor has made with his own hands during the winter. When the door of the shack is opened the blue sky is seen and the prairie. Norah is arranging mustard flowers in a pudding basin on the table. She wears a serge skirt and a neat shirt-waist: she has a healthier look than before, her face is tanned and she has a higher colour. She hears a sound and looks up. Taylor enters. Norah. I didn’t know you were about. Taylor. I ain’t got much to do to-day. I’ve been out with Sid Sharp and a man come over from Prentice. Norah. Oh! Taylor. [Noticing the flowers.] Say, what have you got there? Norah. Aren’t they pretty? I picked them just now. They’re so cheerful. Taylor. [Drily.] Very. Norah. A few flowers make the shack look so much more bright and cosy. Taylor. [Looking round him.] You’ve made it a real home, Norah. Mrs. Sharp never stops wondering how you done it. Sid was saying only the other day it was because you was a lady. It does make a difference, I guess. Norah. [With a little smile.] I’m glad you haven’t found me quite a hopeless failure. Taylor. I guess I’ve never been so comfortable in all my life. It’s what I always said—when English girls do take to the life they make a better job of it than anybody. Norah. What’s the man come out from Prentice for? Taylor. [After a moment’s pause.] I guess you ain’t been terribly happy here, my girl. Norah. What on earth makes you say that? Taylor. You’ve got a good memory, I guess, and you ain’t ever forgiven me for that first night. Norah. [Looking down.] I made up my mind very soon that I must accept the consequences of what I’d done. I tried to fall in with your ways. Taylor. You was clever enough to see that I meant to be master in my own house, and I had the strength to do it. Norah. [With a faint smile.] I’ve cooked for you and mended your clothes, and I’ve kept the shack clean. I’ve been obedient and obliging. Taylor. [With a little chuckle.] I guess you hated me sometimes. Norah. No one likes being humiliated as you humiliated me. Taylor. Ed’s coming out here presently, my girl. Norah. Ed who? Taylor. Your brother. Norah. [Astounded.] Eddie? When? Taylor. Why, right now, I guess. He was in Prentice this morning. Norah. How d’you know? Taylor. He phoned over to Sharp’s to say he was riding out. Norah. Oh, how ripping! Why didn’t you tell me before? Taylor. I didn’t know. Norah. Is that why you asked me if I was happy? I couldn’t make out what was the matter with you. Taylor. Well, I guess I thought if you still wanted to quit, Ed’s coming would be kind of useful. Norah. Why d’you think I want to? Taylor. You ain’t been very talkative these months, but I guess it wasn’t hard to see you’d have given pretty near anything in the world to quit. Norah. I’m not going back to Eddie’s farm, if that’s what you mean. Taylor. If he comes before I get back, tell him I won’t be long. I guess you won’t be sorry to do a bit of yarning with him by yourself. Norah. You’re not under the impression I’m going to say beastly things about you to him? Taylor. No, I guess not. That ain’t your sort. P’raps we don’t know the best of one another yet, but I reckon we know the worst by now. Norah. [Looking at him sharply.] Frank, is anything the matter? Taylor. Why, no. Why? Norah. You’ve seemed different the last few days. Taylor. I guess that’s only your fancy. I’d better be getting along. Sid and the other fellow are waiting for me. [He goes out. Norah looks at him with a puzzled air, then she gives a touch to the flowers, and gets her work. She sits down at the table and begins to mend a thick woollen sock. Suddenly there is a loud knock at the door. She starts up and runs to open it. Edward Marsh is seen standing outside. She gives a cry of delight and flings her arms round his neck. He comes in.] Norah. Eddie! Oh, my dear, I’m so glad to see you. Marsh. Hulloa there! Norah. Marsh. Look. [She goes to the door and looks out.] Norah. Why, it’s Reggie Hornby. [Calling.] Reggie. Hornby. [Outside.] Hulloa! Norah. He can put the horse in the lean-to. Marsh. Yes. [Calling.] Reg, give the old lady a feed and put her in the lean-to. Hornby. Right-o. Norah. Didn’t you see Frank? He’s only just this moment gone out. Marsh. No. Norah. He’ll be in presently. Now, come in. Oh, my dear, it is splendid to see you. Marsh. You’re looking fine, Norah. Norah. Have you had dinner? Marsh. Sure. We got something to eat before we left Prentice. Norah. Well, I’ll make you a cup of tea. Marsh. No, I won’t have anything, thanks. Norah. You’re not a real Canadian yet if you refuse a cup of tea when it’s offered you. Well, sit down and make yourself comfortable. Marsh. How are you getting on, Norah? Norah. Oh, never mind about me. Tell me about yourself. How’s Gertie? And what brought you to this part of the world? And what’s Reggie Hornby doing? And is thingamygig still with you? You know, the hired man. What was his name? Trotter, wasn’t it? Oh, my dear, don’t sit there like a stuffed pig, but speak to me, or I shall shake you. Marsh. My dear, I can’t answer fifteen questions all at once. Norah. Oh, Eddie, I’m so glad to see you. You are a duck to come and see me. Marsh. Let me get a word in edgeways. Norah. I won’t say another syllable. But for goodness’ sake, hurry up. I want to know all sorts of things. Marsh. Well, the first thing is that I’m expecting to be a happy father in three or four months. Norah. Oh, Eddie, I’m so glad. How happy Gertie must be! Marsh. She doesn’t know what to make of it. But I guess she’s pleased right enough. She sends you her love and says she hopes you’ll follow her example soon. Norah. I? But you’ve not told me what you’re doing in this part of the world, anyway. Marsh. [Smiling.] Anyway? Norah. [With a laugh.] I’ve practically spoken to no one but Frank for months. I get into his ways of speaking. Marsh. Well, when I got Frank’s letter about the clearing machine.... Norah. [Interrupting him.] Has Frank written to you? Marsh. Why, yes. Didn’t you know? He said there was a clearing machine going cheap at Prentice. I’ve always thought I could make money down our way if I had one. They say you can clear from three to Norah. How funny of him not to say anything to me about it. Marsh. I expect he wanted to surprise you. Now, how d’you like being a married woman? Norah. Oh, all right. Why has Reggie Hornby come with you? Marsh. D’you know, I’ve not seen you since you were married. Norah. You haven’t, have you? Marsh. I’ve been a bit anxious about you. That’s why, when Frank wrote about the clearing machine, I didn’t stop to think about it, but just came. Norah. It was very nice of you. But why has Reggie Hornby come? Marsh. Oh, he’s going back to England. Norah. Is he? Marsh. Yes, he got them to send him his passage at last. His ship doesn’t sail till next week, and he said he might just as well stop off here and say good-bye to you. Norah. How has he been getting on? Marsh. What do you expect? He looks upon work as something that only damned fools do. Where’s Frank? Norah. Oh, he’s out with Sid Sharp. That’s our neighbour. He has the farm you passed on your way here. Marsh. Getting on all right with him, Norah? Norah. Of course. What’s that boy doing all this time? He is slow, isn’t he? Marsh. It’s a great change for you, this, after the sort of life you’ve been used to. Norah. [To change the topic.] I was rather hoping you’d have some letters for me. I haven’t had any for a long time. Marsh. There now, I’ve got a head like a sieve. Two came by the last mail and I didn’t send them on because I was coming myself. Norah. You haven’t forgotten them? Marsh. No, here they are. Norah. [Reading the addresses.] They don’t look very exciting. One’s from Agnes Pringle. She was a lady’s companion that I used to know in Tunbridge Wells. And the other’s from Mr. Wynne. Marsh. Who’s he? Norah. Oh, he was Miss Wickham’s solicitor. He wrote to me once before to say he hoped I was getting on all right. [Putting the letters on the table.] I don’t think I want to hear from people in England any more. Marsh. My dear, why d’you say that? Norah. It’s no good thinking of the past, is it? Marsh. Aren’t you going to read your letters? Norah. Not now. I’ll read them when I’m alone. Marsh. Don’t mind me. Norah. It’s so silly of me, but letters from England always make me cry. Marsh. [Looking at her sharply.] Norah, aren’t you happy here? Norah. Yes, why shouldn’t I be? Marsh. Why haven’t you written to me once since you were married? Norah. I hadn’t got much to say. [With a smile.] And after all, I’d been practically turned out of your house. Marsh. [Puzzled.] I don’t know what to make of you. Norah. [Nervous and almost exasperated.] Oh, don’t cross-examine me, there’s a dear. Marsh. Frank Taylor’s kind to you and all that sort of thing, isn’t he? Norah. Quite. Marsh. When I asked you to come and stay on the farm I thought it wouldn’t be long before you married, but I didn’t expect you’d marry one of the hired men. Norah. Oh, my dear, don’t worry about me. Marsh. It’s all very fine to say that. You’ve got no one in the world belonging to you but me, and when—when our mother died, she said: “You’ll take care of Norah, won’t you, Eddie?” Norah. [With a sob in her voice.] Oh, don’t, don’t. Marsh. Norah. Norah. [With an effort at self-possession.] We’ve never quarrelled since the first day I came here. Here’s Reggie. [She turns to him with relief. Hornby is dressed in a blue serge suit and again looks like a well-groomed English gentleman.] Norah. [Gaily.] I was wondering what on earth you were doing with yourself. Hornby. [Shaking hands with her.] I say, this is a very swell shack you’ve got. Norah. I’ve tried to make it look pretty and homelike. [Marsh catches sight of the bowl of mustard flowers.] Marsh. Hulloa, what’s this? Norah. Aren’t they pretty? I’ve only just picked them. Mustard flowers. Marsh. We call it weed. Have you got much of it? Norah. Oh yes, lots. Why? Marsh. Oh, nothing. Norah. [To Hornby.] I hear you’re going home. Hornby. Yes, I’m fed up with God’s own country. Nature never intended me to be an agricultural labourer. Norah. What are you going to do now? Hornby. [With immense conviction.] Loaf! Norah. [Amused.] Won’t you get bored? Hornby. I’m never bored. It amuses me to look at other people do things. I should hate my fellow creatures to be idle. Norah. [With a faint smile.] I should have thought one could do more with life than lounge about clubs and play cards with people who don’t play as well as oneself. Hornby. I quite agree with you. I’ve been thinking things over very seriously this winter. And I’m going to look out for a middle-aged widow with money who’ll adopt me. Norah. I remember that you have decided views about the White Man’s Burden. Hornby. All I want is to get through life comfortably. I don’t mean to do a stroke more work than I’m obliged to, and I’m going to have the very best time I can get. Norah. [Smiling.] I’m sure you will. Hornby. The moment I get back to London I’m going to stand myself a slap-up dinner at the Ritz, then I shall go and see a musical comedy at the Gaiety, and after that I’ll have a slap-up supper at Romano’s. England, with all thy faults, I love thee well. Norah. I suppose it’s being alone with the prairie all these months, things which used to seem rather funny and clever—well, I see them quite differently now. Hornby. [Coolly.] I’m afraid you don’t altogether approve of me. Norah. [Not disagreeably.] You haven’t got pluck. Hornby. I don’t know about that. I expect I have as much as anyone else, only I don’t make a fuss about it. Norah. Oh, pluck to stand up and let yourself be shot at—I daresay. But pluck to do the same monotonous thing day after day, plain, honest, hard work—you haven’t got that. You’re a failure, and the worst of it is, you’re not ashamed of it. It fills you with self-satisfaction. Hornby. Rule Britannia, and what price the Union Jack? Norah. [With a laugh.] You’re incorrigible. Hornby. I am.... I suppose there’s nothing you want me to take home. I shall be going down to Tunbridge Wells to see mother. Got any messages? Norah. I don’t know that I have. Eddie has just brought me a couple of letters. I’ll have a look at them. [She opens Miss Pringle’s letter, reads two or three lines, and gives a cry.] Oh! Marsh. What’s the matter? Norah. What does she mean? [Reading.] “I’ve just heard from Mr. Wynne about your good luck, and I have another piece of good news for you.” [She puts Marsh. That’s a very respectable sum. Hornby. I could do with that myself. Norah. I’ve never had so much money in all my life. Marsh. But what’s the other piece of good news that Miss Stick-in-the-mud talks about? Norah. Oh, I forgot. [She takes Miss Pringle’s letter up again and begins to read it.] “...Piece of good news for you. I write at once so that you may make your plans accordingly. I told you in my last letter of my sister-in-law’s sudden death, and now my brother is very anxious that I should live with him. So I am leaving Mrs. Hubbard, and she wishes me to say that if you care to have my place as her companion Marsh. Both letters are addressed to Miss Marsh. Don’t they know you’re married? Norah. No. I never told them. Hornby. What a lark! You could go back to Tunbridge Wells, and none of the old frumps would ever know you’d been married. [Norah gives a sudden start when he says this and stares at him with wide-open eyes. There is a moment’s pause.] Marsh. Just clear out for a minute, Reg. I want to speak to Norah. Hornby. Right-o. [He goes out.] Marsh. Norah, d’you want to clear out? Norah. What on earth makes you think that? Marsh. You gave him such a look when he mentioned it. Norah. I’m bewildered. Did Frank know anything about this? Marsh. My dear, how could he? Norah. It’s so extraordinary. He was talking about my going away just now. Marsh. [Quickly.] Why? Norah. Oh! [She realises that she has betrayed the secret inadvertently.] Marsh. Norah, for goodness’ sake tell me if there’s anything the matter. After all, it’s now or never. You’re keeping back something from me. Aren’t you getting on well together? Norah. [In a low voice.] Not very. Marsh. Why didn’t you let me know? Norah. I was ashamed. Marsh. But you say he’s kind to you. Norah. I’ve got nothing to reproach him with. Marsh. I felt that something was wrong. I knew you couldn’t be happy with him. A girl like you and a hired man. The whole thing was horrible. Thank God I’m here and you’ve got this chance. Norah. What d’you mean? Marsh. You’re not fit for this life. You’ve got a chance to go back to England. For God’s sake take it. In six months all you’ve gone through here will seem nothing but a hideous dream. [He is suddenly struck by the expression of her face.] Norah, what’s the matter? Norah. [Tragically.] I don’t know. [Hornby comes in again.] Hornby. I say, here’s someone coming to see you. Norah. Me? [She goes to the door and looks out.] Oh, it’s Mrs. Sharp. Whatever brings her here on foot? She never walks a step if she can help it. She’s the wife of my neighbour.... Good-afternoon, Mrs. Sharp. [Mrs. Sharp enters. She is a middle-aged woman, red in the face, stout and rather short of breath. She wears an old sun-bonnet, a faded shirt-waist, none too clean, and a rather battered skirt.] Norah. Come right in. Mrs. Sharp. Good-afternoon to you, Mrs. Taylor. I’m all in a perspiration. I’ve not walked so far in months. Norah. This is my brother. Mrs. Sharp. Your brother? Is that who it is? Norah. [Smiling.] It seems to surprise you. Mrs. Sharp. I was so anxious, I couldn’t stay indoors. I went out to see if I could catch sight of Sid, and I walked on and then I saw the rig what’s outside, and it give me such a turn, I thought it was the inspector. I just had to come. I was that nervous. Norah. Is anything the matter? Mrs. Sharp. You’re not going to tell me you don’t know about it? Why, Sid and Frank haven’t been talking about anything else since Frank found it. Norah. Found what? Mrs. Sharp. The weed. Marsh. [With a slight gesture towards the pudding bowl of flowers.] You have got it, then? Mrs. Sharp. It’s worse at Taylor’s. But we’ve got it too. Norah. What does it mean? Mrs. Sharp. We can’t make out who reported us. It isn’t as if we had any enemies. Marsh. Oh, there’s always someone to report you. No one’s going to take the risk of letting it get on his own land. Mrs. Sharp. [Looking at the mustard blossom.] And she has them in the house as if they were flowers. Norah. Tell me what she means, Eddie. Marsh. My dear, these pretty little flowers which you’ve picked to make your shack look bright and homelike—they may mean ruin. Norah. Eddie! Marsh. You must have heard us talk about the weed. We farmers have three enemies to fight—frost, hail, and weed. Mrs. Sharp. We was hailed out last year. Lost our crop. We never got a dollar for it. And if we lose it this year too—why, we may just as well quit. Marsh. When it gets into your crop you’ve got to report it, and if you don’t one of the neighbours will. And then they send an inspector along, and if he condemns it, why you just have to destroy the crop, and all your year’s work is lost. You’re lucky if you’ve got a bit of money in the bank and can go on till the next crop comes along. Mrs. Sharp. We’ve only got a quarter section and five children. It’s not much money you can save then. Marsh. Are they out with the inspector now? Mrs. Sharp. Yes. He came out from Prentice this morning. Marsh. This is a bad job for Frank. Mrs. Sharp. Oh, he hasn’t got the mouths to feed that we have. He can hire out again. But what’s to become of us? Norah. I wonder why he never told me. Mrs. Sharp. I guess he’s in the habit of keeping his troubles to himself and you’ve not taught him different yet. [Norah gives her a quick look, but seeing the woman is all on edge with nervousness does not answer.] Marsh. You must hope for the best, Mrs. Sharp. Mrs. Sharp. Sid says we’ve only got it in one place, but perhaps he’s only saying it so I shouldn’t worry. You know what them inspectors are. They don’t lose nothing by it. It don’t matter to them if you starve all the winter. [She gives a sob and heavy tears roll down her cheeks.] Norah. Oh don’t—don’t cry, Mrs. Sharp. After all, it may be all right. Marsh. They won’t condemn the crop unless it’s very bad. Too many people have got their eyes on it. The machine agent, the loan company. Mrs. Sharp. What with the hail that comes and hails you out and the frost that kills your crop just when you’re beginning to count on it, and the weed—I can’t bear it any more. If we lose this crop I won’t go on. I’ll make Sid sell out and we’ll go home. We’ll take a little shop somewhere. That’s what I wanted to do from the beginning, but Sid—he had his heart set on farming. Norah. You couldn’t go back now. You’d never be happy in a little shop. And if you’d stayed in England you’d have been always at the beck and call of somebody else. And you own the land. You couldn’t Mrs. Sharp. You don’t know what I’ve had to put up with. When the children came, only once I had a doctor. The other times Sid was the only help I had. I might have been an animal. I wish I’d never come to this country. Norah. How can you say that! Your children are strong and healthy. Why, they’ll be able to help you in the work soon. You’ve given them a chance that they’d never have got at home. Mrs. Sharp. Oh, it’s all very well for them. They’ll have it easy. I know that. But we’ve had to pay for it, Sid and me. Norah. You see, you were the first. It’s bitter work opening up a new country and perhaps it’s others who reap the harvest. But I wonder if those who start don’t get a reward that the later comers never dream of. Marsh. She’s right there, Mrs. Sharp. I shall never forget what I felt when I saw my first crop spring up and thought that never since the world began had wheat grown on that little bit of ground.... I wouldn’t go back to England now for anything in the world. I couldn’t breathe. Mrs. Sharp. You’re a man. You have the best of it and all the credit. Norah. People don’t know. You mustn’t blame them. It’s only those who’ve lived out on the prairie who know that the hardships of opening up a new country fall on the women. But the men who are their husbands, they know. Marsh. I guess they do, Mrs. Sharp. [Norah, on her knees beside her, strokes Mrs. Sharp’s hands. Mrs. Sharp gives her a grateful smile.] Mrs. Sharp. Thank you for speaking kindly to me, my dear. I’m that nervous, I hardly know what I’m saying. Norah. Sid and Frank will be here in a minute, surely. Mrs. Sharp. And you’re right, my dear, I couldn’t go back any more. If we lose our crop, well, we must wait till next year. We shan’t starve. One’s got to take the rough with the smooth, and take it all in all, it’s a good country. [Frank Taylor comes in.] Norah. Frank. Mrs. Sharp. [Starting to her feet.] Where’s Sid? Taylor. Why he’s up at your place. Hulloa, Ed. I saw you coming along in the rig. Morning, Reg. I wasn’t expecting to see you. Hornby. Pleasant surprise for you. Mrs. Sharp. What’s happened? Tell me what’s happened. Norah. Mrs. Sharp came here because she was so anxious. Taylor. [Cheerfully.] Oh, you’re all right. Mrs. Sharp. [With a gasp.] We are? Taylor. Sure. Only a few acres has got to go. That won’t hurt you. Mrs. Sharp. Thank God for that. And it’s going to be the best crop we ever had. It’s the finest country in the world. Taylor. You’d better be getting back. Sid’s taken the inspector up to give him some dinner. Mrs. Sharp. He hasn’t? That’s just like Sid. It’s a mercy there’s plenty. I’ll be getting along right now. Norah. Don’t walk. There’s Eddie’s rig. Reggie will drive you over. Mrs. Sharp. Oh, thank you kindly. I’m not used to walking so much and I’m tired out. Good-afternoon, Mrs. Taylor. Norah. Good-bye. Reggie, you don’t mind driving Mrs. Sharp back? It’s only just over a mile. Hornby. Not a bit. Marsh. I’ll come and help you put the mare in. [Mrs. Sharp and Hornby go out.] Marsh. I guess it’s a relief to you now you know, Frank. Taylor. Terrible.... I’d like to have a talk with you presently, Ed. Marsh. Right you are. [He goes.] Norah. I’m so thankful it’s all right. Poor thing, she was in such a state. Taylor. They’ve got five children to feed. I guess it makes a powerful lot of difference to them. Norah. I wish you’d told me before. I felt that something was worrying you and I didn’t know what. Taylor. If I saved the crop there didn’t seem any use fussing, and if I didn’t you’d know quite soon enough. Norah. How could you bear to let me put the flowers here? Taylor. I guess I didn’t mind if it made you happy. You didn’t know they was only a weed. You thought them darned pretty. Norah. [With a little smile.] It was very kind of you, Frank. Taylor. I guess it’s queer that a darned little flower like that should be able to do so much damage. Norah. Why didn’t you tell me you’d written to Eddie? Taylor. I guess I forgot. Norah. Frank, Eddie brought me some letters from home to-day. I’ve had the offer of a job in England. [Frank is just going to make an exclamation, but immediately controls himself and answers quite quietly.] Taylor. Gee! I guess you’ll take that. Norah. It’s funny that you should have been talking just now of my going away. Taylor. Very. Norah. [A little surprised at his manner.] Have you any objection? Taylor. I guess it wouldn’t make a powerful lot of difference to you if I had. Norah. What makes you think that? Taylor. I guess you only stayed here because you had to. [She goes over to the little window and looks out at the prairie.] Norah. Is life always like that? The things you’ve wanted so dreadfully seem only to bring you pain when they come. [He gives her a quick look, but does not answer, and she notices nothing.] Month after month I used to sit looking at the prairie and sometimes I wanted to scream at the top of my voice just to break the silence. I thought I should never escape. The shack was like a prison. I was hemmed in by the snow and the cold and the stillness. Taylor. Are you going to quit right now with Ed? Norah. [With a smile.] You seem in a great hurry to be rid of me. Taylor. I guess we ain’t made a great success of married life, my girl.... It’s rum when you come to figure it out. I thought I could make you do everything I wanted. It looked as if I held a straight flush. And you beat me. Norah. I? Taylor. Why, yes. Didn’t you know that? Norah. I don’t know what you mean. Taylor. I guess I didn’t know how strong a woman could be. You was always givin’ way, you done everything I told you—and all the time you was keepin’ something from me that I couldn’t get at. Whenever I thought to put my hand on you, I guess I found I’d only caught hold of a shadow. Norah. I don’t know what more you wanted. Taylor. I guess I wanted love. Norah. You? [She looks at him with consternation. His words give her a queer little twist of the heart-strings.] Taylor. I know you now less than when you’d only been a week up at Ed’s. I’ve lost the trail and I’m just floundering around in the bush. Norah. [In a low voice.] I never knew you wanted love. Taylor. I guess I didn’t either. Norah. I suppose parting’s always rather painful. Taylor. If you go back to the Old Country, I guess—I guess you’ll never come back. Norah. [Rather shyly.] Perhaps you’ll come over to England one of these days. If you have a couple of good years you could easily shut the place up and run over for the winter. Taylor. I guess that would be a dangerous experiment. You’ll be a lady in England, and I guess I’d be just the hired man. Norah. You’d be my husband. Taylor. I guess I wouldn’t risk it. Norah. You’ll write to me now and then and tell me how you’re getting on, won’t you? Taylor. Will you want to know? Norah. [Smiling.] Why, yes. Taylor. I’ll write and tell you if I’m making good. If I ain’t, I guess I shan’t feel much like writing. Norah. But you’ll make good, Frank. I know you well enough for that. Taylor. Do you? Norah. I have learnt to respect you during these months we’ve lived together. All sorts of qualities which I used to value seem very unimportant to me now. You’ve taught me a great deal. Taylor. You’ll think of me sometimes, my girl, won’t you? Norah. [Smiling.] I don’t suppose I shall be able to prevent it. Taylor. I was an ignorant, uneducated man. I didn’t know how to treat you properly. I wanted to make you happy and I didn’t seem to know just how to do it. Norah. You’ve never been unkind to me, Frank. You’ve been very patient with me. Taylor. I guess you’ll be happier away from me. I’ll be able to think that you’re warm and comfortable at home and you’ve got plenty to eat. Norah. D’you think that’s all I want? [He gives her a rapid glance, and then setting his teeth looks away.] Taylor. I couldn’t expect you to stay on here, not when you got a chance of going back to the Old Country. This life is all new to you. And you know that one. Norah. Oh, yes, I know it—I should think I did. [As she pictures to herself the daily round which awaits her, she is filled with a sort of mirthless scorn, and this presently, as she speaks, is mixed with hatred and dismay.] At eight o’clock every morning a maid will bring me tea and hot water. And I shall get up, and I shall have breakfast, and I shall interview the cook. I shall order luncheon and dinner. And I shall brush the Taylor. Gee! Norah. And then I shall come in and lunch, and after luncheon I shall go for a drive, one day in this direction and one day in that. And then I shall have tea, and then I shall go out again on the nice neat asphalt paths to give the dogs another walk. And then I shall change my dress and come down to dinner. And after dinner I shall play bezique with my employer, and I must take care not to beat her because she doesn’t like being beaten. And at ten o’clock I shall go to bed.... [She pauses a moment.] At eight o’clock next morning a maid will bring in my tea and hot water, and the day will begin again. Every day will be just like every other. And there are hundreds of women in England, strong and capable, with blood in their veins, who would be eager to get the place that’s offered to me. Almost a lady and thirty-five pounds a year. [Taylor has been gazing at her steadily. What she means begins to dawn on him, but he restrains himself. He will not look at her now.] Taylor. I guess it’s a bit different from the life you’ve had here. Norah. [Turning to him.] And you will be clearing the scrub, cutting down trees, ploughing the land, sowing and reaping. You will be fighting every day, frost, hail, and weed; you will be fighting, but I know you’ll be conquering in the end. Where was wilderness will be cultivated land. And who knows what starving child may eat the bread that has been made from the wheat that you grew. My life will be ineffectual and useless, but you will have done something worth while. Taylor. Why, what’s the matter with you, Norah, Norah? [He does not say the words to her, but rather to himself as though they were forced from him in agony of spirit.] Norah. When I was talking to Mrs. Sharp just now I don’t know what I said, I was just trying to comfort her because she was crying, and it seemed to be someone else who was speaking, and I listened to myself. I thought I hated the prairie through the long winter months, and yet somehow it has caught hold of me. It was dreary and monotonous, and yet I can’t get it out of my heart. There’s a beauty and a romance in it which fill my soul with longing. Taylor. [Quietly.] I guess we all hate the prairie sometimes, but when you’ve once lived in it, it ain’t easy to live anywhere else. Norah. I know the life now. It’s not adventurous and exciting. For men and women it’s the same hard work from morning till night, and I know it’s the women who bear the greater burden. The men go into the towns, they have shooting now and then, and the different seasons bring them different work. But for the women it’s always the same, cooking, mending, washing, sweeping. And yet it’s all got a meaning. We, too, have our part in opening up the country. We are its mothers and the future is in us. We are building up the greatness of the nation. It needs our courage and strength and hope, and because it needs them, they come to us. Oh, Frank, I can’t go back to that petty, narrow life. What have you done to me? Taylor. [Hoarsely.] I guess if I asked you to stay now, you’d stay. Norah. [In a low voice.] You said you wanted my love. Don’t you know?... Love has been growing in me slowly, month by month, and I wouldn’t see it. I told myself I hated you. I was ashamed. It’s only to-day, when I had the means of leaving you for ever, that I knew I couldn’t live without you. I’m not ashamed any more. I love you. Taylor. I guess I loved you from the beginning, Norah. Norah. Taylor. I guess you’ll have to take that job in England. I can’t ask you to stay on. Norah. Why? Taylor. The inspector’s condemned the crop. I’m bust. Norah. Oh, why didn’t you tell me? Taylor. I guess I couldn’t. I made up my mind when I married you that I’d make good. I couldn’t expect you to see that it was just bad luck. Anyone can get the weed in his crop. But I guess a man oughtn’t to have bad luck. The odds are that it’s his own fault if he has. Norah. Now I understand about Eddie. Taylor. I wrote to him when I knew I’d been reported. Norah. What are you going to do? Taylor. It’s all right for me. I can hire out. It’s you I was thinking of. I felt pretty sure you wouldn’t go back to Ed’s. I didn’t fancy you taking a position as lady help. I didn’t know what was to become of you, my girl. And when you told me of the job in England, I thought I’d let you go. Norah. Without telling me you were in trouble? Taylor. Why, if I wasn’t smashed up, d’you think I’d let you go? By God, I wouldn’t. I’d have kep’ you—by God, I’d have kep’ you. Norah. Are you going to give the land up? Taylor. No, I guess I can’t do that. I’ve put too much work in it. And I’ve got my back up now. I shall hire out for the summer and next winter I can get work lumbering. The land’s my own now, and I’ll come back in time for the ploughing next year. Norah. Look. Taylor. What’s that? [She hands him the cheque which she has received from Mr. Wynne.] Norah. The nephew of the lady I was with has made me a present of it. Twenty-five hundred dollars. You can lake the quarter section next to this one and get all the machinery you want and some cows. It’s yours to do what you like with. Now will you keep me? Taylor. Oh, my girl, how shall I ever be able to thank you! Norah. Good heavens, I don’t want thanks. There’s nothing in the world so wonderful as to be able to give to someone you love.... Give me a kiss and try. Taylor. I guess it’s the first time you’ve asked me to do that. Norah. Oh, I’m so happy.
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