ROBERT. (_thoughtfully_) I’ve been wondering what the great change was in you. (_After a pause_) You--a farmer--to gamble in a wheat pit with scraps of paper. There’s a spiritual significance in that picture, Andy. (_He smiles bitterly_) I’m a failure, and Ruth’s another--but we can both justly lay some of the blame for our stumbling on God. But you’re the deepest-dyed failure of the three, Andy. You’ve spent eight years running away from yourself. Do you see what I mean? You used to be a creator when you loved the farm. You and life were in harmonious partnership. And now---- (_He stops as if seeking vainly for words_) My brain is muddled. But part of what I mean is that your gambling with the thing you used to love to create proves how far astray---- So you’ll be punished. You’ll have to suffer to win back---- (_His voice grows weaker and he sighs wearily_) It’s no use. I can’t say it. (_He lies back and closes his eyes, breathing pantingly_). ANDREW. (_slowly_) I think I know what you’re driving at, Rob--and it’s true, I guess. (ROBERT _smiles gratefully and stretches out his hand, which_ ANDREW _takes in his_). ROBERT. I want you to promise me to do one thing, Andy, after---- ANDREW. I’ll promise anything, as God is my Judge! ROBERT. Remember, Andy, Ruth has suffered double her share. (_His voice faltering with weakness_) Only through contact with suffering, Andy, will you--awaken. Listen. You must marry Ruth--afterwards. RUTH. (_with a cry_) Rob! (ROBERT _lies back, his eyes closed, gasping heavily for breath_). ANDREW. (_making signs to her to humor him--gently_) You’re tired out, Rob. You better lie down and rest a while, don’t you think? We can talk later on. ROBERT. (_with a mocking smile_) Later on! You always were an optimist, Andy! (_He sighs with exhaustion_) Yes, I’ll go and rest a while. (_As_ ANDREW _comes to help him_) It must be near sunrise, isn’t it? ANDREW. It’s after six. ROBERT. (_As_ ANDREW _helps him into the bedroom_) Shut the door, Andy. I want to be alone. (ANDREW _reappears and shuts the door softly. He comes and sits down on his chair again, supporting his head on his hands. His face is drawn with the intensity of his dry-eyed anguish_). RUTH. (_glancing at him--fearfully_) He’s out of his mind now, isn’t he? ANDREW. He may be a little delirious. The fever would do that. (_With impotent rage_) God, what a shame! And there’s nothing we can do but sit and--wait! (_He springs from his chair and walks to the stove_). RUTH. (_dully_) He was talking--wild--like he used to--only this time it sounded--unnatural, don’t you think? ANDREW. I don’t know. The things he said to me had truth in them--even if he did talk them way up in the air, like he always sees things. Still---- (_He glances down at_ RUTH _keenly_) Why do you suppose he wanted us to promise we’d---- (_Confusedly_) You know what he said. RUTH. (_dully_) His mind was wandering, I s’pose.