Part 8 (1/2)

_Philo_ (_coming to table_)

I will work--work--work! (_Busies his hands._) Not a voice to help me--not a smile of hope--not a touch of sympathy. (_Sits still and despairing._) ... Perhaps the time is not ripe for larger knowledge.

Nature and the Divinity that guides her must protect their new evolving creatures. A too sudden revelation and they might perish from sheer wonder.... Yes, truth must come softened, as a dream, to the man child's brain. Its naked light would sere and blind him forever.... But to me it has been given to see--to hear--and keep sane in the light. Oh, from what planet is the call? From what one of the hundred million spheres?

How many centuries has it been sent outward to the deaf, the dumb, and the blind? And what is the word? Is it Hail? Help? Hope?... Or is it an answer? An answer to some signal of mine? How shall I know?... How shall I know?

(_There is a noise outside the window._ PHILO _does not look up._ REBA _appears and leaps lightly through the windows. Advances centre.

Her dress is of clinging black, relieved by a floating scarf of cloudy white. She has a ma.s.s of blonde hair, and all the charms properly belonging to her age, which is eighteen._)

_Reba_

Philo!

_Philo_ (_turning_)

Reba!

_Reba_

Don't be angry.

_Philo_

How did you get here?

_Reba_

The window. Don't you remember--you showed me how to climb up once--with a ladder--the tree--and the shed roof? Oh, the things you've forgotten, Philo!

(_He goes to door and unbolts it._)

_Philo_

You must go down, Reba. (_She does not move._) What will mother say?

_Reba_ (_laughing_)

She held the ladder for me.

_Philo_

Mother?

_Reba_

You've frightened her so. You mustn't bolt the door again. She's afraid you'll do something dreadful.

_Philo_