NAT--[_Alarmed by this outburst--submissively._] Yes, Pa. BARTLETT--Then see that ye heed. [_After a pause--as_ NAT _lingers_.] They’ll be waitin’ for ye at the house. NAT--All right. I’ll go. [_He turns to the doorway on the left, but before he gets to it, the door is pushed open and_ MRS. BARTLETT _enters_. NAT _stops, startled_.] Ma! MRS. BARTLETT--[_With a forced smile._] Run along, Nat. It’s all right. I want to speak with your Pa. BARTLETT--[_Uneasily._] Ye’d best go up with Nat, Sarah. I’ve work to do. MRS. BARTLETT--[_Fixing her eyes on her husband._] I want to talk with you alone, Isaiah. BARTLETT--[_Grimly--as if he were accepting a challenge._] As ye like, then. MRS. BARTLETT--[_Dismissing_ NAT _with a feeble attempt at a smile_.] Tell Sue I’ll be comin’ up directly, Nat. NAT--[_Hesitates for a moment, looking from one to the other uneasily._] All right, Ma. [_He goes out._] BARTLETT--[_Waits for_ NAT _to get out of hearing_.] Won’t ye set, Sarah? [_She comes forward and sits by the table. He sits by the other side._] MRS. BARTLETT--[_Shuddering as she sees the bottle on the table._] Will drinkin’ this poison make you forget, Isaiah? BARTLETT--[_Gruffly._] I’ve naught to forget--leastways naught that’s in your mind. But they’s things about the stubborn will o’ woman I’d like to forget. [_They look at each other across the table. There is a pause. Finally he cannot stand her accusing glance. He looks away, gets to his feet, walks about, then sits down again, his face set determinedly--with a grim smile._] Well, here we be, Sarah--alone together for the first time since-- MRS. BARTLETT--[_Quickly._] Since that night, Isaiah. BARTLETT--[_As if he hadn’t heard._] Since I come back to you, almost. Did ye ever stop to think o’ how strange it be we’d ever come to this? I never dreamed a day’d come when ye’d force me to sleep away from ye, alone in a shed like a mangy dog! MRS. BARTLETT--[_Gently._] I didn’t drive you away, Isaiah. You came o’ your own will. BARTLETT--Because o’ your naggin’ tongue, woman--and the wrong ye thought o’ me. MRS. BARTLETT--[_Shaking her head, slowly._] It wasn’t me you ran from, Isaiah. You ran away from your own self--the conscience God put in you that you think you can fool with lies. BARTLETT--[_Starting to his feet--angrily._] Lies? MRS. BARTLETT--It’s the truth, Isaiah, only you be too weak to face it. BARTLETT--[_With defiant bravado._] Ye’ll find I be strong enough to face anything, true or lie! [_Then protestingly._] What call have ye to think evil o’ me, Sarah? It’s mad o’ ye to hold me to account for things I said in my sleep--for the damned nightmares that set me talkin’ wild when I’d just come home and my head was still cracked with the thirst and the sun I’d borne on that island. Is that right, woman, to be blamin’ me for mad dreams? MRS. BARTLETT--You confessed the rest of what you said was true--of the gold you’d found and buried there.