JOAN.--
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’ve ’ad enough of earth. I’ve sowed, I’ve reaped,I’ve gathered, and I’ve strawed. But me and ’imWe won’t meet any more. He ’aven’t come,Nigh me--not for a year.And when he did come back--he went againNext day. SNOWMAN. Went? Where? JOAN. Nowhere. He roves about. Seeing the world, ’e calls it. Rovingblood. That’s been ’is curse; and mind, ’is roving blood, it haven’talways roved. He liked his ease, he liked the victuals I give him wellenough, he liked his fireside, and he liked his bed when I was by ’im.Ah! And then one day he’d ’ad enough of comfort, and was off,--lookingfor what? ’Ardship? He might have ’ad that ’ere if he’d but stayed.Aye, that ’e could--for it’s been ’ard enough--with they two there. Ah,you may look at ’em, they ’aven’t known trouble--yet they was with meall the time. Why, there’ve been days when I’ve not ’ad enough to eatmyself. And what ’ave fed me? Just to ’ear ’em laugh and think they’aven’t known. What do you look at me like that for? What do you know?What did you come for? Say! SNOWMAN. To bring you comfort. JOAN. Comfort? I’ve got no place for comfort in me now. It isn’t that Iwant--it’s rest. SNOWMAN. ’Tis rest I bring. JOAN. Where’s ’e? SNOWMAN. Here--near at hand. Come, come and do not be afraid. (_Hetakes her hand_) JOAN. Oh, dearie me. This feels like death. Like death! (_As they touch hands a mist draws over the stage, the wallsof the house seem to fade away, the sound of the storm growsloud around them. They stand in a white world full of obscuremovement and pale drifting forms._) SNOWMAN. What do you see? JOAN. A waste of snow. SNOWMAN. Anyone there? JOAN. No one I know. No--only you. What? You say you saw him on theroad, coming? How do you know that it was ’im? Yes--yes--’e was likethat. But younger, ’andsomer than that,--not lame---- No, he was never lame--a young, young man,And strong!----Oh, lost his way? You say ’e’d lost his way?Well, maybe that might tire ’im just a bit,But oh, he’d find it! Oh, trust him for that!He’s been all round the world--and lost his wayThrough coming ’ome. Yes, yes, he’s coming ’ome.Ah! Now I see ’im. Yes, I’m ’ere, I’m ’ere!Waiting for yer,--waiting--expecting yer.Ah, never mind. Though yer don’t love me, stillIt’s back to me you come! Yer can’t ’elp thatThat’s ’ow God made yer. That’s why He made me.No! I can’t reach yer. No, he’s got my hand,Holding it, holding it,--and won’t leave go!I’d ’elp yer, if I could. I’d die for yer!But he won’t let me go.----I’m cold, I’m cold!Can’t see!--I’ve lost my way,And I shan’t--never--any more come home! (_The snowman looses her hand, and she falls. The mist clearsfrom a dark stage, the walls close in again, the chamberremains in darkness. A figure stumbles past the window, thedoor is thrown open, the Snowman stands aside. Enter_ JASPAR.)
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