BARTLETT--[_Starting toward his wife with an insane yell of fury._] Stop it, I tell ye! [_He towers over her with upraised fist as if to crush her._] SUE--Pa! NAT--[_Starting to his feet from where he has been sitting on the ground--hoarsely._] Pa! For God’s sake! MRS. BARTLETT--[_Gives a weak, frightened gasp._] Would you murder me too, Isaiah? [_She closes her eyes and collapses in_ SUE’S _arms_.] SUE--[_Tremblingly._] Nat! Help me! Quick! We must carry her to bed. [_They take their mother in their arms, carrying her inside the house._] BARTLETT--[_While they are doing this, rushes in his mad frenzy to the platform over the edge of the cliff. He puts his hands to his mouth, megaphone-fashion, and yells with despairing rage._] Ahoy! Ahoy! Sarah Allen! Put back! Put back! [_as_ [_The Curtain Falls_] ACT FOUR SCENE--_About nine o’clock of a moonlight night one year later_--CAPTAIN BARTLETT’S _“cabin,” a room erected on the top of his house as a lookout post. The interior is fitted up like the cabin of a sailing vessel. On the left, forward, a porthole. Farther back, the stairs of the companionway. Still farther, two more portholes. In the rear, left, a marble-topped sideboard. In the rear, center, a door opening on stairs which lead to the lower house. A cot with a blanket is placed against the wall to the right of door. In the right wall, five portholes. Directly under them, a wooden bench. In front of the bench, a long table with two chairs placed, one in front, one to the left of it. A cheap, dark-colored rug is on the floor. In the ceiling, midway from front to rear, a skylight extending from opposite the door to above the left edge of the table. In the right extremity of the skylight is placed a floating ship’s compass. The light from the binnacle sheds down over this and seeps into the room, casting a vague globular shadow of the compass on the floor. Moonlight creeps in through the portholes on the right. A lighted lantern is on the table._ _As the curtain rises_, SUE _and_ DOCTOR BERRY _are discovered sitting by the table. The doctor is a man of sixty or so, hale and hearty-looking, his white hair and mustache setting off his ruddy completion. His blue eyes have a gentle expression, his smile is kindly and sympathetic. His whole manner toward_ SUE _is that of the old family doctor and friend, not the least of whose duties is to play father-confessor to his patients. She is dressed in deep mourning. She looks much older. Her face is pale and plainly marked by the ravages of suffering and grief. But there is an excited elation in her face at present, her eyes are alight with some unexpected joy._ SUE--[_Excitedly._] And here is Danny’s letter, Doctor--to prove it’s all true. [_She takes a letter from the bosom of her dress and holds it out to him._]