The exterior of the farmhouse, as in Part One--a hot Sunday afternoon two months later. Abbie, dressed in her best, is discovered sitting in a rocker at the end of the porch. She rocks listlessly, enervated by the heat, staring in front of her with bored, half-closed eyes.
Eben sticks his head out of his bedroom window. He looks around furtively and tries to see--or hear--if anyone is on the porch, but although he has been careful to make no noise, Abbie has sensed his movement. She stops rocking, her face grows animated and eager, she waits attentively. Eben seems to feel her presence, he scowls back his thoughts of her and spits with exaggerated disdain--then withdraws back into the room. Abbie waits, holding her breath as she listens with passionate eagerness for every sound within the house.
Eben comes out. Their eyes meet. His falter, he is confused, he turns away and slams the door resentfully. At this gesture, Abbie laughs tantalizingly, amused but at the same time piqued and irritated. He scowls, strides off the porch to the path and starts to walk past her to the road with a grand swagger of ignoring her existence. He is dressed in his store suit, spruced up, his face shines from soap and water. Abbie leans forward on her chair, her eyes hard and angry now, and, as he passes her, gives a sneering, taunting chuckle.
EBEN--(stung--turns on her furiously) What air yew cacklin' 'bout?
ABBIE--(triumphant) Yew!
EBEN--What about me?
ABBIE--Ye look all slicked up like a prize bull.
EBEN--(with a sneer) Waal--ye hain't so durned putty yerself, be ye? (They stare into each other's eyes, his held by hers in spite of himself, hers glowingly possessive. Their physical attraction becomes a palpable force quivering in the hot air.)
ABBIE--(softly) Ye don't mean that, Eben. Ye may think ye mean it, mebbe, but ye don't. Ye can't. It's agin nature, Eben. Ye been fightin' yer nature ever since the day I come--tryin' t' tell yerself I hain't purty t' ye. (She laughs a low humid laugh without taking her eyes from his. A pause--her body squirms desirously--she murmurs languorously) Hain't the sun strong an' hot? Ye kin feel it burnin' into the earth--Nature--makin' thin's grow--bigger 'n' bigger--burnin' inside ye--makin' ye want t' grow--into somethin' else--till ye're jined with it--an' it's your'n--but it owns ye, too--an' makes ye grow bigger--like a tree--like them elums--(She laughs again softly, holding his eyes. He takes a step toward her, compelled against his will.) Nature'll beat ye, Eben. Ye might's well own up t' it fust's last.
EBEN--(trying to break from her spell--confusedly) If Paw'd hear ye goin' on. . . . (resentfully) But ye've made such a damned idjit out o' the old devil . . . ! (Abbie laughs.)
ABBIE--Waal--hain't it easier fur yew with him changed softer?
EBEN--(defiantly) No. I'm fightin' him--fightin' yew--fightin' fur Maw's rights t' her hum! (This breaks her spell for him. He glowers at her.) An' I'm onto ye. Ye hain't foolin' me a mite. Ye're aimin' t' swaller up everythin' an' make it your'n. Waal, you'll find I'm a heap sight bigger hunk nor yew kin chew! (He turns from her with a sneer.)
ABBIE--(trying to regain her ascendancy--seductively) Eben!
EBEN--Leave me be! (He starts to walk away.)
ABBIE--(more commandingly) Eben!
EBEN--(stops--resentfully) What d'ye want?
ABBIE--(trying to conceal a growing excitement) Whar air ye goin'?
EBEN--(with malicious nonchalance) Oh--up the road a spell.
ABBIE--T' the village?
EBEN--(airily) Mebbe.
ABBIE--(excitedly) T' see that Min, I s'pose?
EBEN--Mebbe.
ABBIE--(weakly) What d'ye want t' waste time on her fur?
EBEN--(revenging himself now--grinning at her) Ye can't beat Nature, didn't ye say? (He laughs and again starts to walk away.)
ABBIE--(bursting out) An ugly old hake!
EBEN--(with a tantalizing sneer) She's purtier'n yew be!
ABBIE--That every wuthless drunk in the country has. . . .
EBEN--(tauntingly) Mebbe--but she's better'n yew. She owns up fa'r 'n' squar' t' her doin's.
ABBIE--(furiously) Don't ye dare compare. . . .
EBEN--She don't go sneakin' an' stealin'--what's mine.
ABBIE--(savagely seizing on his weak point) Your'n? Yew mean--my farm?
EBEN--I mean the farm yew sold yerself fur like any other old whore--my farm!
ABBIE--(stung--fiercely) Ye'll never live t' see the day when even a stinkin' weed on it'll belong t' ye! (then in a scream) Git out o' my sight! Go on t' yer slut--disgracin' yer Paw 'n' me! I'll git yer Paw t' horsewhip ye off the place if I want t'! Ye're only livin' here 'cause I tolerate ye! Git along! I hate the sight o' ye! (She stops, panting and glaring at him.)
EBEN--(returning her glance in kind) An' I hate the sight o' yew! (He turns and strides off up the road. She follows his retreating figure with concentrated hate. Old Cabot appears coming up from the barn. The hard, grim expression of his face has changed. He seems in some queer way softened, mellowed. His eyes have taken on a strange, incongruous dreamy quality. Yet there is no hint of physical weakness about him--rather he looks more robust and younger. Abbie sees him and turns away quickly with unconcealed aversion. He comes slowly up to her.)
<!--pagebreak-->CABOT--(mildly) War yew an' Eben quarrelin' agen?
ABBIE--(shortly) No.
CABOT--Ye was talkin' a'mighty loud. (He sits down on the edge of porch.)
ABBIE--(snappishly) If ye heerd us they hain't no need askin' questions.
CABOT--I didn't hear what ye said.
ABBIE--(relieved) Waal--it wa'n't nothin' t' speak on.
CABOT--(after a pause) Eben's queer.
ABBIE--(bitterly) He's the dead spit 'n' image o' yew!
CABOT--(queerly interested) D'ye think so, Abbie? (after a pause, ruminatingly) Me 'n' Eben's allus fit 'n' fit. I never could b'ar him noways. He's so thunderin' soft--like his Maw.
ABBIE--(scornfully) Ay-eh! 'Bout as soft as yew be!
CABOT--(as if he hadn't heard) Mebbe I been too hard on him.
ABBIE--(jeeringly) Waal--ye're gittin' soft now--soft as slop! That's what Eben was sayin'.
CABOT--(his face instantly grim and ominous) Eben was sayin'? Waal, he'd best not do nothin' t' try me 'r he'll soon diskiver. . . . (A pause. She keeps her face turned away. His gradually softens. He stares up at the sky.) Purty, hain't it?
ABBIE--(crossly) I don't see nothin' purty.
CABOT--The sky. Feels like a wa'm field up thar.
ABBIE--(sarcastically) Air yew aimin' to' buy up over the farm too? (She snickers contemptuously.)
CABOT--(strangely) I'd like t' own my place up thar. (a pause) I'm gittin' old, Abbie. I'm gittin' ripe on the bough. (A pause. She stares at him mystified. He goes on.) It's allus lonesome cold in the house--even when it's bilin' hot outside. Hain't yew noticed?
ABBIE--No.
CABOT--It's wa'm down t' the barn--nice smellin' an' warm--with the cows. (a pause) Cows is queer.
ABBIE--Like yew?
CABOT--Like Eben. (a pause) I'm gittin' t' feel resigned t' Eben--jest as I got t' feel 'bout his Maw. I'm gettin' t' learn to b'ar his softness--jest like her'n. I calc'late I c'd a'most take t' him--if he wa'n't sech a dumb fool! (a pause) I s'pose it's old age a-creepin' in my bones.
ABBIE--(indifferently) Waal--ye hain't dead yet.
CABOT--(roused) No. I hain't, yew bet--not by a hell of a sight--I'm sound 'n' tough as hickory! (then moodily) But arter three score and ten the Lord warns ye t' prepare. (a pause) That's why Eben's come in my head. Now that his cussed sinful brothers is gone their path t' hell, they's no one left but Eben.
ABBIE--(resentfully) They's me, hain't they? (agitatedly) What's all this sudden likin' ye've tuk to Eben? Why don't ye say nothin' 'bout me? Hain't I yer lawful wife?
CABOT--(simply) Ay-eh. Ye be. (A pause--he stares at her desirously--his eyes grow avid--then with a sudden movement he seizes her hands and squeezes them, declaiming in a queer camp meeting preacher's tempo) Yew air my Rose o' Sharon! Behold, yew air fair; yer eyes air doves; yer lips air like scarlet; yer two breasts air like two fawns; yer navel be like a round goblet; yer belly be like a heap o' wheat. . . . (He covers her hand with kisses. She does not seem to notice. She stares before her with hard angry eyes.)
ABBIE--(jerking her hands away--harshly) So ye're plannin' t' leave the farm t' Eben, air ye?
CABOT--(dazedly) Leave . . . ? (then with resentful obstinacy) I hain't a-givin' it t' no one!
ABBIE--(remorselessly) Ye can't take it with ye.
CABOT--(thinks a moment--then reluctantly) No, I calc'late not. (after a pause--with a strange passion) But if I could, I would, by the Etarnal! 'R if I could, in my dyin' hour, I'd set it afire an' watch it burn--this house an' every ear o' corn an' every tree down t' the last blade o' hay! I'd sit an' know it was all a-dying with me an' no one else'd ever own what was mine, what I'd made out o' nothin' with my own sweat 'n' blood! (a pause--then he adds with a queer affection) 'Ceptin' the cows. Them I'd turn free.
ABBIE--(harshly) An' me?
CABOT--(with a queer smile) Ye'd be turned free, too.
ABBIE--(furiously) So that's the thanks I git fur marryin' ye--t' have ye change kind to Eben who hates ye, an' talk o' turnin' me out in the road.
CABOT--(hastily) Abbie! Ye know I wa'n't. . . .
ABBIE--(vengefully) Just let me tell ye a thing or two 'bout Eben! Whar's he gone? T' see that harlot, Min! I tried fur t' stop him. Disgracin' yew an' me--on the Sabbath, too!
CABOT--(rather guiltily) He's a sinner--nateral-born. It's lust eatin' his heart.
<!--pagebreak-->ABBIE--(enraged beyond endurance--wildly vindictive) An' his lust fur me! Kin ye find excuses fur that?
CABOT--(stares at her--after a dead pause) Lust--fur yew?
ABBIE--(defiantly) He was tryin' t' make love t' me--when ye heerd us quarrelin'.
CABOT--(stares at her--then a terrible expression of rage comes over his face--he springs to his feet shaking all over.) By the A'mighty God--I'll end him!
ABBIE--(frightened now for Eben) No! Don't ye!
CABOT--(violently) I'll git the shotgun an' blow his soft brains t' the top o' them elums!
ABBIE--(throwing her arms around him) No! Ephraim!
CABOT--(pushing her away violently) I will, by God!
ABBIE--(in a quieting tone) Listen, Ephraim. 'Twa'n't nothin' bad--on'y a boy's foolin'--'twa'n't meant serious--jest jokin' an' teasin'. . . .
CABOT--Then why did ye say--lust?
ABBIE--It must hev sounded wusser'n I meant. An' I was mad at thinkin'--ye'd leave him the farm.
CABOT--(quieter but still grim and cruel) Waal then, I'll horsewhip him off the place if that much'll content ye.
ABBIE--(reaching out and taking his hand) No. Don't think o' me! Ye mustn't drive him off. 'Tain't sensible. Who'll ye get to help ye on the farm? They's no one hereabouts.
CABOT--(considers this--then nodding his appreciation) Ye got a head on ye. (then irritably) Waal, let him stay. (He sits down on the edge of the porch. She sits beside him. He murmurs contemptuously) I oughtn't t' git riled so--at that 'ere fool calf. (a pause) But har's the p'int. What son o' mine'll keep on here t' the farm--when the Lord does call me? Simeon an' Peter air gone t' hell--an Eben's follerin' 'em.
ABBIE--They's me.
CABOT--Ye're on'y a woman.
ABBIE--I'm yewr wife.
CABOT--That hain't me. A son is me--my blood--mine. Mine ought t' git mine. An' then it's still mine--even though I be six foot under. D'ye see?
ABBIE--(giving him a look of hatred) Ay-eh. I see. (She becomes very thoughtful, her face growing shrewd, her eyes studying Cabot craftily.)
CABOT--I'm gittin' old--ripe on the bough. (then with a sudden forced reassurance) Not but what I hain't a hard nut t' crack even yet--an' fur many a year t' come! By the Etarnal, I kin break most o' the young fellers's backs at any kind o' work any day o' the year!
ABBIE--(suddenly) Mebbe the Lord'll give us a son.
CABOT--(turns and stares at her eagerly) Ye mean--a son--t' me 'n' yew?
ABBIE--(with a cajoling smile) Ye're a strong man yet, hain't ye? 'Tain't noways impossible, be it? We know that. Why d'ye stare so? Hain't ye never thought o' that afore? I been thinkin' o' it all along. Ay-eh--an' I been prayin' it'd happen, too.
CABOT--(his face growing full of joyous pride and a sort of religious ecstasy) Ye been prayin', Abbie?--fur a son?--t' us?
ABBIE--Ay-eh. (with a grim resolution) I want a son now.
CABOT--(excitedly clutching both of her hands in his) It'd be the blessin' o' God, Abbie--the blessin' o' God A'mighty on me--in my old age--in my lonesomeness! They hain't nothin' I wouldn't do fur ye then, Abbie. Ye'd hev on'y t' ask it--anythin' ye'd a mind t'!
ABBIE--(interrupting) Would ye will the farm t' me then--t' me an' it?
CABOT--(vehemently) I'd do anythin' ye axed, I tell ye! I swar it! May I be everlastin' damned t' hell if I wouldn't! (He sinks to his knees pulling her down with him. He trembles all over with the fervor of his hopes.) Pray t' the Lord agen, Abbie. It's the Sabbath! I'll jine ye! Two prayers air better nor one. "An' God hearkened unto Rachel"! An' God hearkened unto Abbie! Pray, Abbie! Pray fur him to hearken! (He bows his head, mumbling. She pretends to do likewise but gives him a side glance of scorn and triumph.)
