Land of Promise

D. Torbett, Maugham W. Somerset

Description

As one of the most abidingly popular literary figures of the twentieth century, W. Somerset Maugham's sphere of influence far exceeded the realm of the stage, for which most of his early works were written. The Land of Promise is D. Torbett's novelization of Maugham's play of the same name, which served as the basis for several versions that were produced for both stage and screen.

Informations

• Publié par: The Floating Press
• Date de parution: 01 juin 2012
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781775560999
• Langue: English

Extrait

THE LAND OF PROMISE
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D. TORBETT
W. SOMERSET MAUGHAM
 
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The Land of Promise First published in 1914 ISBN 978-1-77556-099-9 © 2012 The Floating Press and its licensors. All rights reserved. While every effort has been used to ensure the accuracy and reliability of the information contained in The Floating Press edition of this book, The Floating Press does not assume liability or responsibility for any errors or omissions in this book. The Floating Press does not accept responsibility for loss suffered as a result of reliance upon the accuracy or currency of information contained in this book. Do not use while operating a motor vehicle or heavy equipment. Many suitcases look alike. Visit www.thefloatingpress.com
Contents
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The Land of Promise Chapter I Chapter II Chapter III Chapter IV Chapter V Chapter VI Chapter VII Chapter VIII Chapter IX Chapter X Chapter XI Chapter XII Chapter XIII Chapter XIV Chapter XV Chapter XVI Chapter XVII Chapter XVIII
The Land of Promise
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A Novelization of W. Somerset Maugham's Play
Chapter I
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Nora opened her eyes to an unaccustomed consciousness of well-being. Shewas dimly aware that it had its origin in something deeper than merephysical comfort; but for the moment, in that state between sleeping andwakening, which still held her, it was enough to find that body and mindseemed rested.
Youth was reasserting itself. And it was only a short time ago that shehad felt that never, never, could she by any possible chance feel youngagain. When one is young, one resents the reaction after any strain notpurely physical as if it were a premature symptom of old age.
A ray of brilliant sunshine, which found its way through a gap in thedrawn curtains, showed that it was long past the usual hour for rising.She smiled whimsically and closed her eyes once more. She remembered nowthat she was not in her own little room in the other wing of the house.The curtains proved that. How often in the ten years she had been withMiss Wickham had she begged that the staring white window blind, whichdecorated her one window, be replaced by curtains or even a blind of adark tone that she might not be awakened by the first ray of light. Shehad even ventured to propose that the cost of such alterations bestopped out of her salary. Miss Wickham had refused to countenance anysuch innovation.
Three years before, when the offending blind had refused to holdtogether any longer, Nora had had a renewal of hope. But no! The newblind had been more glaringly white than its predecessor, which bycontrast had taken on a grateful ivory tone in its old age. They had hadone of their rare scenes at its advent. Nora had as a rule an admirablecontrol of her naturally quick temper. But this had been too much.
"I might begin to understand your refusal if you ever entered my room.But since it would no more occur to you to do so than to visit thestables, I cannot see what possible difference it can make," Nora hadstormed.
Miss Wickham's smile, which at the beginning of her companion's outbursthad been faintly ironic, had broadened into the frankly humorous.
"Stated with your characteristic regard for exactitude, my dear MissMarsh, it would never enter my head to do either. I prefer the whiteblind, however. As you know, I have no taste for explanations. We willlet the matter rest there, if you please." Then she had added: "Someday, I strongly suspect, some man will amuse himself breaking that fierytemper of yours. I wish I were not so old, I think that I should enjoyknowing that he had succeeded." And the incident had ended, as always,with a few angry tears on Nora's part, as a preliminary to theinevitable game of bezique which finished off each happy day!
And this had been her life for ten years! A wave of pity, not forherself but for that young girl of eighteen who had once been herself,that proudly confident young creature who, when suddenly deprived of theprotection of her only parent,—Nora's father had died when she was tooyoung to remember him,—had so bravely faced the world, serene in theconsciousness that the happiness which was her right was sure to be hersafter a little waiting, dimmed her eyes for a moment. The dreams she haddreamed after she had received Miss Wickham's letter offering her thepost of companion! She recalled how she had smiled to herself when theagent with whom she had filed her application congratulated her warmlyon her good fortune in placing herself so promptly, and, by way ofbenediction, had wished that she might hold the position for many years.Many years indeed! That had been no part of her plan. Those nebulousplans had always been consistently rose-colored. It was impossible toremember them all now.
Sometimes the unknown Miss Wickham turned out to be a soft-hearted andsentimental old lady who was completely won by her young companion'scharm and unmistakable air of good breeding. After a short time, sheeither adopted her, or, on dying, left her her entire fortune.
Again, she proved to be a perfect ogre. In this variation it was alwaysthe Prince Charming, that looms large in every young girl's dreams, whofinally, after a brief period of unhappiness, came to the rescue andeverything ended happily if somewhat conventionally.
The reality had been sadly different. Miss Wickham had disclosed herselfas being a hard, self-centered, worldly woman who considered that infurnishing her young companion with board, lodging and a salary ofthirty pounds a year, she had, to use a commercial phrase, obtained theoption on her every waking hour, and indeed, during the last year of herlife, she had extended this option to cover many of the hours whichshould have been dedicated to rest and sleep.
All the fine plans that the young Nora had made while journeying downfrom London to Tunbridge Wells, for going on with her music, improvingherself in French and perhaps taking up another modern language, in herleisure hours, had been nipped in the bud before she had been an inmateof Miss Wickham's house many days. She had no leisure hours. MissWickham saw to that. She had apparently an abhorrence for her ownunrelieved society that amounted to a positive mania. She must never beleft alone. Let Nora but escape to her own little room in the vain hopeof obtaining a few moments to herself, and Kate, the parlor maid, wascertain to be sent after her.
"Miss Wickham's compliments and she was waiting to be read to." "MissWickham's compliments, but did Miss Marsh know that the horses were atthe door?" "Miss Wickham's compliments, and should she have Kate set outthe backgammon board?"
And upon the rare occasions when there was company in the house, MissWickham's ingenuity in providing occupation for dear Miss Marsh, whileshe was herself occupied with her friends, was inexhaustible. In an evilhour Nora had confessed to a modest talent for washing lace. MissWickham, it developed, had a really fine collection of beautiful pieceswhich naturally required the most delicate handling. Their need forbeing washed was oddly coincident with the moment when the expectedguest arrived at the door.
Or, it appeared that the slugs had attacked the rose trees in unusualnumbers. The gardener was in despair as he was already behind withsetting out the annuals. "Would Miss Marsh mind while Miss Wickham hadher little after-luncheon nap—!" Miss Marsh did mind. She lovedflowers; to arrange them was a delight—at least it had been once—butshe hated slugs. But she was too young and too inexperienced to know howto combat the subtle encroachments upon her own time made by thisselfish old woman. And so, gradually, she had found that she was notonly companion, but a sort of superior lady's maid and assistantgardener as well. And all for thirty pounds a year and her keep.
And alas! Prince Charming had never appeared, unless—Nora laughed aloudat the thought—he had disguised himself with a cleverness defyingdetection. With Reginald Hornby, a callow youth, the son of MissWickham's dearest friend, who occasionally made the briefest of dutyvisits; Mr. Wynne, the family solicitor, an elderly bachelor; and thedoctor's assistant, a young person by the name of Gard, Nora's list ofeligible men was complete. There had been a time when Nora had flirtedwith the idea of escaping from bondage by becoming the wife of youngGard.
He was a rather common young man, but he had been sincerely in love withher. He was not sufficiently subtle to recognize that it was the idea ofescaping from Miss Wickham and the deadly monotony of her days thattempted her. He had laid his case before Miss Wickham. There had beensome terrible scenes. Nora had felt the lash of her employer's bittertongue. Partly because she was still smarting from the attack, andpartly because she was indignant with her suitor for having gone to MissWickham at all and particularly without consulting her, she, too, hadturned on the unfortunate young man. There had been mutualrecriminations and reproaches, and young Gard, after his brief andbitter experience with the gentry, had left the vicinity of TunbridgeWells and later on married a girl of his own class.
But Miss Wickham had been more shaken at the prospect of losing heryoung companion, who was so thoroughly broken in, than she would haveliked to have confessed. She detested new faces about her, and as amatter of fact, she came as nearly caring for Nora as it was possiblefor her to care for any human being. She had told the girl then that itwas her intention to make some provision for her at her death, so thatshe might have a decent competence and not be obliged to look foranother position. There was, of course, the implied understanding thatshe would remain with Miss Wickham until that lady was summoned to abetter and brighter world, a step which Miss Wickham, herself, was in noimmediate hurry to take. In the meantime, she knew perfectly well justhow often a prospective legacy could be dangled before expectant eyeswith perfect delicacy.
It furni