 Tonight's starring Olivia DeHavilland in My Cousin Rachel with Ron Randell. Ladies and gentlemen, your producer, Mr. Irving Cummings. Ladies and gentlemen, tonight's play has been widely read as a best-selling novel. It's Daphne de Morier's My Cousin Rachel. And to recreate her role in this 20th Century Fox screen success, we have a twice honored Academy Award winner, Olivia DeHavilland. Playing opposite, we welcome Ron Randell to our fifth. Now, My Cousin Rachel, starring Olivia DeHavilland in the title role with Ron Randell as Philip. To me quickly, Philip, she has done for me at last Rachel, Rachel, my torment. This was all the letter said, the letter from My Cousin Ambrose. I left it once for Ambrose was more than just my cousin. It was father, brother, friend, everything in the world to me. My journey ended in the Villa Sangaletti in Florence, Italy. But I had come too late. Ambrose was dead. It was long, senior, but the end was quick. The violence had all gone from his face, only a look of peace. Violence? The fever, senior. Sometimes for days his senses would leave him. Keateka told me you were their friend, that you're a lawyer. That is true, senior. And Mrs. Ashley, where is she? She left here the day after the funeral. That's my suggestion. Why was I not informed at least of my cousin's illness? His death was sudden, Mr. Ashley. But not so sudden he hadn't time to write to me. She was afraid he might have written. The doctors warned her that he might. Warned? Your cousin's behavior was quite irresponsible those last few weeks. The tumour had created a considerable pressure on the brain. Tumour? Because of death, Mr. Ashley. May I ask what proof there is of that? There is the death certificate. A copy has been sent to the trustee of your cousin's will to Mr. Nicholas Kendall in Cornwall. How do you know that Mr. Kendall's the trustee? It is indicated in the will, sir. You've read my cousin's will. But he showed it to me. May I ask how he disposed of the estate? In effect to you. All of it. He mentions you with the deepest affection. My cousin took me to his home more than 20 years ago when my parents died. It must be a magnificent estate. Now it is all yours, senior. Or will be soon on your 25th birthday. What about her? His widow. Rachel? She is not mentioned in the will. She'll contest it then, of course. No. Rachel approves of it completely. I see. About my cousin's illness. Yes. Regardless of doctors, that letter. He sent the letters are not the man of a man simply sick. Ambrose was in danger. Sir, but... And read this letter. There you see. She has done for me at last. Rachel, my comet. May I ask if there were other letters? Some, not many. He wrote to me in January of meeting the Countess, Sangaletti. He said she was half English and a very distant cousin of ours. She was a widow then, senior. And now, so young and beautiful, Rachel is twice a widow. Anyway, Ambrose fell in love with her. The courtship was brief. They were very happy. For how long? Every moment, until he became so ill. Could the illness have been a relapse, Mr. Ashley? Relapse? That's absurd. He was subject to romantics in his legs. Our winter's a wet and dreary, so he decided to spend a month or two in Italy. Yes. And his other letter? Ambrose wrote that he was ill. He said there was no one he could trust. That she watched him constantly. Believe me, he was deluded by the fever. Why didn't his wife send for me? Your cousin, Rachel, is a woman of very strong feelings. Such women do not easily acknowledge defeat. They cling to the things they want, and they never surrender. Where is she now? My cousin. I have no idea. Where is he buried? Or don't you know that either? The Protestant cemetery that the stone ordered by Mrs. Ashley is already in place. When she returns, tell her I was here. And tell her that I know how Ambrose died. Rachel is a woman of impulse, senor. There is no assurance she will ever come back to Florence. At month's end I was back in England. The weeks dragged by. But I could not forget Ambrose, nor the woman he'd married, in spite of the attentions of my two dearest friends, Nick Kendall and Louise, his daughter. It was Nick who brought me the startling news that Rachel was here. Here in England. She just survived in Plymouth. She writes to tell me of Ambrose's death. Obviously, Philip, she knows nothing of your journey to Florence. What's she after? A settlement? She asks for nothing, not a shilling. Although as the widow, she does have certain rights. After driving Ambrose to his death? That's a very foolish thing to say, Philip. I wouldn't repeat it if I were you. You still believe that story of the tumor? Ambrose was my friend. I can't sit here and do nothing when his widow arrives. I'll invite her to stay with Louise and me until her plans are more definite. I know you won't want to see her. But I would like to see her. Very much. Oh? Tell her that I'm a plain man, living in a rather plain fashion with no fine manners whatsoever. But if she wishes to see me and her late husband's home, both are at her disposal. Who thinks she'd accept an invitation like that? Send it along. We'll see if she does or not. My invitation was accepted. Rachel came. Mrs. Ashley is here. Since she was due here at five and since it is now nearly seven, I should hope she is. You explained I was too busy to be here to greet her. She said she understood, sir. She's no in her room. She's already dined without waiting for me. Oh, no, sir. She had a tray in her room. She was very tired after the journey and asked that you excuse her this evening. But if you wish to see her after dinner, she'd be pleased to receive you. In her room? Yes, sir. That's all she can. Thank you. I am Philip. Really? Oh, how good to see you. I... I hope you feel better now. Very much, thank you. I owe you an apology for not coming down to dinner. But I was very tired and dull. I should have been here when you arrived. No, please. Seekham explained. You must never let me interfere with any of your plans. I want to thank you for letting me come here. It couldn't have been easy for you, Philip. You're welcome here, I assure you. You have no idea what a strange feeling it was, driving through the estate and up to the house, and Seekham standing by the door to greet me. Everything just as I'd imagined it. Even the clock striking the hour as I came in the door. Ambrose told me so much about... If you'd like to smoke your pipe, Philip, then please do. My...my pipe? You've been putting it from one pocket to another. Oh, I didn't realize it. You don't mind my smoking? Not at all. When Mrs. Pascoe comes, we don't even smoke in the drawing room. But this is not a drawing room. It's a boudoir. And I'm not Mrs. Pascoe. She's the vicar's wife. Yes, I know. I thought women minded about such things. You were made nothing better to worry about. This room, Philip. Wasn't this Aunt Phoebe's room? Was it? Before you were born? All I remember of Aunt Phoebe is her name. Ambrose never told you of her great romance at the age of 45. Why now? As a matter of fact, she died on her wedding night. But I think I'd better not tell you the circumstances until we've known each other a little longer. You...you're sure you're comfortable here. There's nothing you wish? Nothing. Thank you. I'll...I'll see you in the morning, then. Good night. Good night, Philip. That Sunday after church, it was Rachel who reminded me of a custom that Ambrose was so fond of. Luncheon with the Kendall's and the Pascoes. And it was Rachel who suggested that she drive back with Nicholas Kendall while I should return with his daughter, Louise. What did Rachel say? About what? Well, didn't you accuse her? No, Louise. Not yet. You've said nothing at all about the way that Ambrose died. I...I haven't had the right opportunity. I must say she's not at all the sort of person I thought she'd be. She's very beautiful, but middle-aged, of course. Quite 35, I should say. She could be 99 for all I care. Had 99, women don't have eyes like that, nor that complexion. Nor do they dress like that, nor look so well in mourning. What are you trying to tell me? Nothing you don't already know, I'm sure. Very successful, Rachel. I'm glad you thought of it. Your Louise is charming, Philip. She'll make you an excellent wife. Louise is an old friend, but she's not mine. She's practically a child. But you're age, I suppose you'd think that. You're teasing me. Not in the least. It's just that I'm very happy here. It's been a wonderful visit, Philip. You're not thinking of leaving? Well, I came only for a few days. You forget I have a new life to make for myself. Rachel, why did Ambrose never make another will? Do you know? What does that matter now? The fact remains I can't afford to be idle. I must look for work of some kind in London, I suppose. But you'll invite me down again, won't you? I don't know. You don't know? I mean, I don't know if you want to come again or not. I haven't been altogether honest with you. Honest with me? I should have told you that Ambrose wrote to me during his illness. Or did you know that? No. He begged me to come to Florence to help him. But I arrived there too late. You've been to Florence? Yes. When? How long ago? I spent one afternoon a night there, the night of August the 15th. I saw Mr. Reynaldi. But why didn't you tell me? Why have you let me stay here without mentioning such a thing? I thought at first that you knew. Reynaldi, what else did he tell you? First, I think you should read these letters from Ambrose. Here. They're the last he wrote to me. Thank you. I tried not to look at her while she read, but I couldn't keep my eyes from her face. That there was nothing I could define only her beauty. And then? His letters. How you must have hated me. Yes. Philip, why did you ask me here? To accuse you. Of what? I'm not sure. Perhaps of breaking his heart. Which would be murder, wouldn't it? And then? To make you suffer. Then I suppose to let you go. That was merciful of you. More merciful than I should deserve. If that was what you wanted, watch me. Watch me now. Watch me as much as you wish. No, no, please, please don't. You're not that woman. You're not the woman I hated. How do you know I'm not? That was someone who existed only in his pure, sick mind. It's very generous of you, Philip. Someday I'd like to tell you about it. About Ambrose and me and our marriage. As much of it as I understand anyway. I'd never even met a man like him. Strong, tender, without conceit of any kind. For the first time in my life I knew what peace was. As for him, he was like someone sleeping who'd suddenly wakened and found the world with all its beauty and sadness too. Guido Rinaldi, whom he detested as much as you probably do, Guido told me once that Ambrose wakened to me as some man wakened to religion. But a woman unhappily is not religion. She's a human being with human faults and she shouldn't be judged by the same rules. Ambrose expected too much of you. In any case, finding religion doesn't always improve a person. And waking to the world didn't help Ambrose. He changed. His nature changed. How? That's a question I wish from the bottom of my heart I could answer. The doctor said it was his illness that out of pain and fear these deep hidden thoughts and suspicions came to the surface. But how can I be sure that it wasn't something in me that brought them out? We're sure. You're quite sure you don't hate me now. Why should I? I'm very glad. Good night. Make a friend and you make an ally. There's a thought for you to keep in mind as many another American has like Fiorello LaGuardia, the busy little mayor of New York who found time to get on the radio and read funnies to the kids. There was a man who loved children and through his love saw the United Nations International Children's Emergency Fund come into being. To start such a fund, LaGuardia went to Europe not as a representative of the UN but as an American citizen. He traveled from country to country investigating conditions, speaking to the people and making friends. In his native land, Italy, he helped hand out food to the needy and won their admiration. On his return to the United States, LaGuardia worked day and night to sell the need for a children's emergency fund. And finally, the General Assembly of the UN adopted his proposal unanimously in a resolution which stated that as many children as possible to the age of 18 would receive help from the fund on the basis of need and determination because of race, creed, nationality or political belief. Workers all over America donated a day's pay to the fund as did children in all kinds of schools, organizations and churches. But LaGuardia didn't live to see the full success of the great work he helped to start. His big heart stopped the night before the UN announced aid allocation to over 3,700,000 children and mothers in 12 European countries and China. But others picked up where Fiorello LaGuardia left off, people like him who knew that by helping others you help your country. Act two of my cousin Rachel starring Olivia de Haveland in the title role with Ron Randell as Philip. I left the house early the next morning. There was a matter of great importance to bring before my friend and neighbor, Nicholas Kendall. Money? Yes, she's penniless, Philip, I'm sure. How much would you suggest? 5,000 pounds a year. 5,000? But that's a tremendous sum. The entire property might have been due to her. You'll direct the bank to make quarterly payments. No, not until you think it over. I did think it over all night long. Very well. I gather that your cousin Rachel will be leaving us soon. It is my honest hope she'll delay her departure at least until after Christmas. Is that several weeks off? Yes. Oh, my best to Louise Nick. Why? I invited half the village to our party on Christmas Eve. Early in the evening before the guests arrived, I stood with Rachel before the fire. So why, Louise, aren't you going to drink it? I'm thinking of a toast, but it's not elegant enough. I want to drink to you, Rachel, to my distant but very dear cousin. And I drink to mine with a heart full of love and gratitude. This is for you. Merry Christmas, dear Rachel. Put it on. Oh, it's the most beautiful necklace I've ever seen in my life. May I kiss you, Philip? Thank you, darling. Sorry to pry you away from your guests, Philip. But I must talk to you. You sound very sober, Nick. I am. Your cousin Rachel. The necklace she's wearing. I gave it to her. Why? That necklace is part of your family's collection. It won't be yours for another three months. Not until your birthday. Very well, then. I've loaned the necklace to her for three months. Listen to me, Philip. I've come to learn a little more about your cousin Rachel. Some old friends who've wintered in Italy for years. They met her when she was married to Sangaletti, her first husband. Well, both were notorious for unbridled, extravagance and loose living. I've never heard of anything so despicable. Who are these people? It doesn't matter. The moment all that matters is the necklace. What are you suggesting? That she might sell it? Will you ask her to return it or not? No, never. Very well. Then I must do it for you. I forbid you to. Rachel. I couldn't help overhearing. But there's no need for either of you to be embarrassed. Philip, it was dear of you to let me wear this necklace for the evening. But quite right of you, Mr. Kendall, to insist on its return. I want you to take it, Philip. Please. I won't forget this, Nick. Philip, wait. Philip! It's I, Philip. May I talk with you? Just for a moment? I assumed you'd retired. It's quite late. I've been writing a letter. Philip, you mustn't mind about the necklace. Really? It doesn't matter, dear. Not in the least. That's stupid, unspeakable. Now you're acting like a child. I'm not a child and I ask you please to remember that. But I do. I do, darling. Get to any further patronage from anyone. My mother wore that necklace on her wedding day. Before that, her mother. Don't you realize why I wanted you to wear it, too? Good night, Philip. And bless you. May I kiss you, good night? Oh, my dear. Rachel had mentioned a letter. I saw it on a table in the hall before the groom took it to coast. It was addressed to Guido Ronaldo. Some weeks later, a windy rainy afternoon, I returned from some business in the village. I heard voices. Rachel's and a man's. The man was Guido. I'm so glad you've returned. You remember Guido, of course. Guido Ronaldo? Yes. We met in Florence. He should be scolded, Philip. A whole week in England without letting me know. I couldn't have been more surprised when he walked in. Will you have a glass of wine with us? Thank you, no. You might close. I should change. Hurry, dear, won't you? We'll see you at dinner. I'm not certain at all. No, Philip. It's a pleasure to see you, Mr. Reinaldo. E un bel ragazzo. Mi ricorda il quadro del Batista di Andrea Del Sarto. Yes, for me. Philip reminds me only of one person. He will join us at dinner or not? Silly. Of course he will. We sat in the living room after dinner. Rachel was preparing some sort of drink. She had several small jars of herbs on the tea table, and she smiled as she mixed them. You see, Philip, that's all there is to it. It's called tisana, Guido's favorite tisana, which he says no one can make as well as I. No one. I'm sure Rachel knows more about herbs than any other person in the world. But what is it, this tisana? I should have introduced you to it long before now. It's a tea made from herbs. It is a very ancient art with endless variations in flavor and strength and purposes, etc., for pleasure, for health. Ambrose loved it, Philip, and if you like it, we'll have it again. It was a strange beverage, quite unlike anything I've ever tasted before, but not unpleasant. We sat and talked, but I could see that Rachel was becoming restless. Would you excuse us, Philip? Guido and I still have a good deal of rather dull business to discuss, being in play upstairs, certainly. You'll join us later? I'm afraid not, thank you. I'm suddenly rather tired. If you change your mind, come in at any time. Guido? In a moment, Rachel. Mr. Ashley, I must thank you for all you have done for your cousin and for your most generous allowance. I understand now with what regret Rachel will leave here. If and when she does? Of course. About the allowance, it may please you to know that such an arrangement was precisely what Rachel had in mind for you if the other will had been signed. Other will? She didn't tell you. What other will? Perhaps I should not have mentioned it. Ambrose left this entire estate to Rachel. Unfortunately, by the time the will was drawn, his collapse was so complete, it was never signed. You still have the copy, of course. No, we destroyed it. Good night, Mr. Ashley. Go further than this to escape me, Phillip. How did you know I was here? You always fly to the beach when you're angry with me. I've seen you here before, Phillip. Perched on these rocks like some angry seabird. Go back to the house, it's too cold for you here. Not if we sit close and you put your arms around me. Last night, you didn't say, you didn't come to say good night. You didn't really expect me, did you? I waited up for you. With your friend? I could have after I'd sent him off to bed. Is that true? But of course. Why do you ask that? Where is he now? On his way back to London. Oh, I'm terribly sorry. You're a goose. You really don't make me a fool, don't you? I've told you not to say that. It's absurd. I've become fonder and fonder of you with each day that passes. And each day that passes, I'm more and more determined that I shall never let you leave here, Rachel. Rachel. Phillip, I beg you to reconsider. I've never heard of such a thing. Never heard of wrong being righted? There's nothing you can do about it, Nick. My birthday is tomorrow. You realize you're signing away your entire estate? It's what Ambrose himself intended, until he became too ill to arrange for it. We don't know that. Not for a fact, but when you ambrose, didn't we? Would he have done anything less for the woman he loved? No, not if he still loved her. Take the pen and sign, Nick. There are some women, Phillip, good women, very possibly, who impel disaster. Whatever they touch somehow turns to treasure day. You and Louise, you'll come to the house tomorrow, I hope. It's your birthday. We'll be there. Thank you. I don't remember ever knowing the delirium of happiness I knew at that night, standing under Rachel's window, calling her name. What on earth? Did I wake you? Yes, you did. What are you doing there at this hour? Phillip, no. You'll fall and hurt yourself. Only a clog would walk upstairs on such a night. A man in love must scale the walls. You've been drinking. I'm drunk on love and I'm here and we're alone. Don't you know what day this is? It's not day. And if it's your birthday, you mean that's not till tomorrow. The clog's already struck. Tomorrow's here. Your hair's wet. Yes, I've been swimming in the sea. How could you win this weather? Do you remember what your mother used to tell you? What must happen on a birthday? No, but if it's something foolish, I'm sure. But on a man's birthday, his every wish must be granted. No, no, that's not it at all. That's exactly what you told me not a week ago. Only up to the age of ten. There was no such restriction as that, you said. Then there is now to the age of ten and not one day older. Very well then. Suppose this time we reverse it. The celebrator will try to grant your every wish. Whatever you want. Home, fortune or perhaps the contents of this box. Here, open it. No. Then I shall. Really? Remember the necklace. All this goes with it. Are you out of your mind? It's my 25th birthday. And everything I have is yours. Darling, this is impossible. No, you mustn't. This is right. These jewels belong to you. As for this very legal piece of paper, you can read it later. What is it, Philip? Tells you what is yours. This hole in this land, everything. Which always should have been yours anyway. No, no. And if I owned the world, that would be yours too. And all I have for you is a little pin for your cravat. Blessed creature. You remember once I told you there was nothing else I needed but the warmth and comfort of these four walls? I remember. I was wrong. I know now there is something else. Are you... Are you very sure of that? More sure than of anything else under the sun. Philip. We had company the next night at dinner. Nick Kendall and Louise. And so, let me raise my glass to Philip and say that for all his willfulness, for all that he provokes me at times, my regard for him only increases with the years. To you, my boy, to your long life and happiness. To you, Philip. To you. Thank you, Nick, my dear Louise. My dearest Rachel. And now I too have a toast. To Rachel, who is to be my wife. Have you lost your senses, Philip? I'm sorry if I was premature, but it's my birthday. These are my oldest friends. Mr. Kendall, Louise, I hope you can forgive this schoolboy folly and forget it if you can. The day and the wine seem to have gone to Philip's head. He'll apologize when he's himself again. Shall we go into the drawing room? Let him sit for a moment. I'm sure he'll join us. Later, after Nick and Louise had gone, I stood in the darkness on a landing of the staircase. Rachel was approaching, a candle in her hand. You frightened me. I thought you'd gone to bed. Not before I've begged your forgiveness. Then you may go now before you think of some other mistake to do. They won't betray us, believe me. Betray us? Oh, what a humiliating thing to say. You're still angry. And ashamed. You were neither angry nor ashamed last night when you promised to marry me. I promised to marry you? But you couldn't possibly have misunderstood me. What else could I have been asking that meant all the world to me? Whatever you may have thought, I gave no such promise nor anything like it. Then let me ask you now in the plainest of language. Will you marry me? No, Philip. And you may take that as final and forever. Now may I go to my room? But you loved me. I know you did. It couldn't have been pretence. That was last night. And you'd give me the jewels. Philip, you're hurting me. Go. Go to your room. But never leave me, you understand? Never leave me. There's a story here that pretty well illustrates the difference between two beliefs, two ways of life. Unless you've been stationed there, you probably haven't even heard of a place called Herzfeldt in Germany. It's close to the border between the Russian and American zones. In the Russian zone, little by little, the last vestiges of freedom and human dignity are being stripped away. And the people look with fear at their conquerors. But just to step across the border, there's a different spirit. The men of our constabulary squadron there set out to do a big job, one that you won't find listed in Army manuals. On their own initiative, on their own time, they'd built up a community instead of reducing it to nothing. In two years, this little group of men raised more than $40,000 to be used for assorted good works to help the aged and the homeless and the unemployed. The biggest single accomplishment was an $11,000 donation toward construction of a new orphanage. And the work still goes on, giving you hope for the future. Yes, such acts by you and your friends today are shaping our world of tomorrow. All for station identification. The curtain rises on Act 3 of my cousin Rachel, starring Olivia de Havilland in the title role with Ron Randell as Philip. The following afternoon, Louise Kendall rode through our fields to where I was working with the men. She reigned her horse and called me. I've come to talk to you, Philip, about last night. With my own fault. I misunderstood Rachel. I've never misunderstood her. Nor ever liked her. Now since the day she arrived. Philip, do you really love her so much? Twice I've asked her to marry me. When the time is right, I'll ask her again. She'll never marry you. Perhaps not. That document you gave her, the deed of this estate, she brought it to my father this morning. Yes, I know. Why? Well, some of it wasn't altogether clear to her. Yes, and one point in particular, the conditions of remarriage. It simply says that if Rachel marries while I'm alive, the estate reverts to me. But if she marries me, the condition has no meaning at all. No, but remember this. A wife cannot take her husband's money into another country such as Italy. Nor can she herself wander away whenever the impulse seizes her. Oh, Philip, how can you be so blind? Because I love her. Because she's everything I think and feel and want and there's no room in me for anything else, nor ever will be again. Now do you understand? Yes, Philip. All too clearly. I had not felt well all day. Early that night, the pains in my head became more than I could bear. I remember staggering to my bed and seek them calling frantically to Rachel. But all the rest is like a dream. Oh, was it all a dream? There were people, Dr. Bell from the village, and Ambrose, and Reynaldi, and Rachel. Always Rachel. Can't you tell me, dear? My head. My head. Doctor? I'm not sure, Mrs. Ashley. The sudden fever. That is getting worse. I've seen his fever before. I've seen children die of it. You must do something quickly. Philip, don't you hear me? Don't you know who I am? Ambrose. It's Ambrose. Is this how I died, Philip? Ambrose! You must drink this. You must, Arlene. Drink it, and you'll feel better. Don't leave me, Anna. I won't. Promise me. I promise. But you promised me you said you'd come back to me. No, Frido. No. Not while Philip lives. Blessed Rachel, I do love you so. Not more than I love you, dear darling. Then you'll marry me now. I will. With the happiest of heart. Philip! Philip! Rachel. At long last. Oh, my poor Philip. I feel strange. I shouldn't wonder. You've been very ill for a long time. How long? More than three weeks. It's not possible. What... what happened to me? On the continent we call it meningite. But none of the doctors here ever seem to have heard of it. Then how did they...? They worked it out together. I told them what I'd seen done in Italy. Such as puncturing the spine to take out the fluid, and letting into your bladder serum I made of herbs. You don't remember that? No, Rachel. I feel so sorry for you. For me? For having such a poor weak stick of a husband on your hands. Husband? Please, dear. No more talking now. Later, perhaps. Later. My recuperation was rapid. By week's end I was able to leave the house and walk about the ground. And I'm glad to see you. To see you out again. You're looking so wonderful strong. Thank you, Sikkim. Now... oh, now, what's this? What's happened to that tree? The gardeners are moving it, sir. They're afraid the cattle might eat of it. Laburnum, Mr. Phillips. It seeds the poisonous. Laburnum? Yes. Did you know they grow in Italy too? I saw several in Mrs. Ashley's villa in Florence. Tell me, have you seen her yet this morning? They've been waiting for her, sir. She said she wanted to talk about repairing the sunken garden. It'll be more of a job than we thought, sir. It's the bridge. The bridge over the chasm. The underpinnings have rotted away. They'll have to be replaced. Why hasn't it been done? They'll bring the timbers up from the village on Monday, sir. Meanwhile, you'd best warn everyone to keep clear of it. It is a long drop down there to those rocks. I'll warn them, of course. Does... Mrs. Ashley, now? Can I say for certain if she does or not, sir? Get about your work, Sikkim. I'll wait for it here. Thank you, sir. But Rachel didn't appear. To my surprise, I learned from the coachman that she left early in the morning and had gone to Plymouth. That evening, when she returned... I'm terribly sorry, dear. I went into Bartman to do some shopping I should have told you. Bartman, you mean Plymouth, don't you? No, dear. I tried Plymouth last week, but I couldn't find what I wanted. Now, what about the headaches? None today. Not the least sign of one. Oh, I'm so glad. Rachel, I heard some gossip that I don't quite like. What are they saying now, Philip? That you're going back to Italy. Of course, but not until you're completely well. But I may not be able to go with you. I don't know that you should, dear. But you might like to come down in the spring for a visit. But is this how you expect us to live? Long separations and visits? Philip, please. Most of my friends are in Italy. I'm a certain life that I'm more accustomed to, actually, than the life here. I'm sure you must understand that I can't help but miss it. You're tired, aren't you? Yes, I can't imagine where my strength goes. I think I'm quite well again, and then I find it's all I can do to stand on my feet. We'll have tea. Better yet, I'll make designer. Exactly the way you like it. Could we have it upstairs in your room? If you wish, Philip. And someday we must set a metal plate on the wall. Here, in this room, Philip Ashley first said eyes on his cousin Rachel. This is our home. Our true home. It's getting late, dear. You need your sleep. You want me to leave? I think you should. Don't you think we can tell them now? Tell them what? Everyone. That we're married now. But we're not, Philip. Not what? We're not married. But of course we're married. On my birthday, you can't have forgotten. It... it is true, isn't it? No, Philip. It would have been better if you let me die. Don't say things like that. They destroy me, too. Why didn't you tell me? I couldn't. You were so terribly ill. You called me your wife. You were delirious. I couldn't make you understand. Then when you started to recover, I assumed that what you had imagined was forgotten. Forgotten? You're still not well, dear. But when you are, it will no longer appear so important to you. Believe me, everything will seem to you just as it was before I came. I don't really believe that. If I didn't, I don't think I should ever have another moment's peace of mind. Is it Renaldi? No, Philip. I know it is. It's always been Renaldi. Oh, must I go through all that again? And Ambrose knew it, too. You've no right to pry into such matters. But I'll answer you just as I answered Ambrose who hated him, too. Guido is a friend who's seen me through every trial and trouble, who's never misjudged me nor tried to see me as other than I am. All my faults and weaknesses that has never condemned me for them and without his help I should have been lost time and again. He's my only true friend. But friend only. She closed her bedroom door and I was alone. It was then that I saw a letter, half hidden behind a book on the little shelf there in her sitting room. It was addressed to Rachel. The handwriting was Renaldi's. It had been posted but four days ago, but not from Italy. From England. From Plymouth. When I put the letter down, Rachel reappeared in the doorway. I'd better leave now, don't you think? How after this could there be anything but unhappiness for both of us? Where is he? Guido? In Florence, I imagine. When have you ever told me anything? Any single word since you came into this house but lies? Late that night I awoke. My head throbbing again with pain. Suddenly I knew that I must go to Rachel's room and get that letter. Renaldi's letter. It wasn't where I'd left it. I tried the drawers of the desk. They were all locked. All but one. And then as I... Who's there? I stood there frozen. In the open drawer was an envelope. I took it and fled. It was all I could do to reach my room. The envelope. It was not the one I'd hoped for. There was no letter inside. Only some seeds. It was taking their identity. The burn of the seeds, Mr. Phillip. Dispoisoned. The burn of the seeds. Rachel did not leave her room until the afternoon of the following day. I learned from Seacum that she'd spent the morning packing. And I believe in her early this evening, Phillip. I understand there's a vessel sailing from Plymouth in the morning. Don't you think we might be friends for these last few hours? Of course. We must be. There's an old Italian saying that Ambrose loved. No raman-tare, ke li ore, filici. Remember only the happy hours. That, I think, is the way it should be with us. That's a beautiful thought. There are moments when I could swear that Ambrose lives all over again in you. You sent for me, Phillip. Well, I'm here. Louise, I'm most grateful. I wasn't sure you'd come. I've treated you so badly, Louise. There's something wrong, isn't there? Tell me. You read Italian, don't you? Not very well, I'm afraid. Rachel has a letter. It's somewhere in her room, and I've got to find it. It's from Reinaldo. Why must you read it? Because I'm convinced now that Ambrose was right. She not only murdered him, but she's done her best to kill me, too. You can't be serious. You told me it's not yourself many weeks ago. With that letter, I'm certain I can prove it. Surely not murdered. I'm sorry, Reinaldo, and still have possession of this estate. That was the very point she went to your father about. To make sure. But how can you think... Come on, you two. Time enough for that, but I'm gone. This is my last Sunday here, and I want it to be as happy as my first. Thank you, Mrs. Ashley. We'll be right in. So I leave with only the fondest of memories, Louise. I shall miss you and your father more than I can say. Thank you, Mrs. Ashley, and now I want you to watch me. I'm making my specialty, Sana, for Phillip. You've never tasted it, have you? No, but my father recommends it most highly. Well, if you like it, I'll leave some of my herbs for you, too. It's much like brewing tea, isn't it? And almost as simple. In Florence, I used to brew my tassana, and then Ambrose and I would go out into the courtyard and sit, often until after midnight, with the fountain playing, and it was very pleasant and peaceful. Your cup, Louise. Thank you. I wonder, Phillip, if we couldn't make just such a pleasant place in the sunken garden where we might sit in the afternoons. I've been meaning to speak with the gardeners about it. Yes, Seacombs mentioned it. If we could find another little statue, like the one in the courtyard. Well, Phillip, here. Your tassana. No. No, thank you. Now, Phillip, really, you can't refuse this last cup. You drink it for me, Rachel. No. It's a pity to waste it, but mine's already poured and flavored to my taste. You're in a very bad humor today, aren't you, Phillip? I'd like to think it's because I'm leaving. In any case, there's one thing you'll do for me, isn't there? What do you want me to do, Rachel? Your tassana. If you won't drink it now, drink it before you go to bed, won't you? If you insist. I do. It's helped you before and it will help you gain. Now, who'll walk with me to the sunken garden? I've just thought of a little statue I can get in Florence and I want to make sure in my mind how it'd look from the other side. If you don't mind, Louise must leave in a few minutes. I promised to show her an old map of the estate that someone left would seek him yesterday. Of course. You should. I'll go alone. I'm frightened, Phillip. Right now he's in England, Louise, in Plymouth. But he told my father he was going back to Italy. She's been seeing him there for weeks. She'd be lying about that justice. She'd be lying about everything else. What about the letter? Come along. We'll go up to her room. What if she's destroyed it? We'll find that out soon. Here's an odd one. Look. A receipt from the bank. She sent them back to the jewelry collection. Sent it back? But it's worth a fortune. Yes, how clever of Rachel. That letter. That letter. Phillip, Phillip, look. Here. Under the writing pad on the desk. This is it. There. You see the pillow postmark? Harry, open it up. Well, it's in English. What does it say? Rachel, love. My ship sails Monday midnight. I don't see you before then. I believe defeated, but with no reproaches. I shall continue to serve you with love and friendship as long as I shall live. As for that boy, if he is so much in your heart that you cannot bear to leave him, I all mean bring him back to Florence with you and will nurse him back to health. But that doesn't sound as if they mean to. What are you doing at the window? A sunken garden. Out there, look, the bridge. She's walking towards the bridge. Phillip. The bridge. Oh, God, forgive me. She'll cross the bridge. But what is it? The bell rope at the foot of the stairs. The alarm bell. Yes. Go down and pull it. Read it hard. I'm going after her. Rachel! Rachel, wait. Don't go any further. Stay where you are. Mr. Phillip. Seek him. Where is he? Have you seen her? I was just coming for help, sir. The bridge. She's down there. Sir, crushed on the rocks. Come here, Rachel. Darling. Oh, please. Please. Why, Phillip? Why did you do it? Rachel. Rachel. She said nothing more. Rachel was dead. It is night now. And I stand on the rocks that overlook the sea. Blessed, Rachel. Only you can know now this burden that I must carry to the end of my days. This question that I must ask myself again and again every day of my life. Never to be answered now until we meet at last in perpetuity. Were you innocent? Or were you guilty? Rachel. My torment. My pain. My pain. Rachel. Rachel. Rachel. Rachel. Rachel. Rachel. Rachel. Rachel. Rachel. Rachel. Rachel. Rachel. Rachel. Oh, man. In a moment, our stars will return. You know, I read a story sometime ago that made me realize that there can be heroes of peace as well as heroes of war. It was about a Husky MP in Tokyo named Earl S. Whitney, Jr. He had been supporting two war orphans, a Chinese and a Japanese for three years on a private's pay. He took Little Nathan Tong, aged 13, under his wing first when the Chinese lad began hanging around the Tokyo base. Whitney rented a place for Phan Tung and took over the duties of a father. Then Hirayama Chokichi, age 15, came along, and Whitney spread the other wing for him. For three years he fed, educated, maintained, and clothed the pair. And then he took on a night job and a service club to earn some extra change. He needed it. His army pay was $111.90 a month, and he spent about $100 a month on his two kids. He called the boys Mickey and Jimmy Whitney, and hoped that someday they'd all wind up at his home back in Southern California. But in the meantime, even though he was only a private in the army, he was a real hero to those two war orphans. And it all goes to prove that such acts by you and your friends today are shaping our world of tomorrow. Now Mr. Cummings with our stars, and here they are, Livy de Havilland and Ron Randell. Now tell me, do you think Rachel really was trying to poison Phillip? I refuse to answer on the grounds that may incriminate me. I wonder what Daphne Dumario would answer. Well I don't know Ron, but I love the book. She's one of the favorite English authors of so many people. I have a favorite too, C.S. Forrester. I'd like to recommend his Sailor of the King, which 20th Century Fox has just made into an exciting motion picture. I understand you have an exciting picture for the next Monday show. I think it'll keep you right on the edge of your chair, because it's the story of an almost perfect crime, an extraordinary plot which required perfect timing. It's 20th Century Fox's absorbing drama of the steel trap. And as our stars from the original cast will be Joseph Cotton and Theresa Wright. That will be a wonderful show, Irving. Good night. Good night. Good night and thank you for a memorable evening. First by Mr. Irving Cummings, our orchestra is under the direction of Rudy Schrager. This is Ken Carpenter inviting you to join us next week at this same time for another presentation of the Hollywood Radio Theater. Radio Theater is a presentation of the United States Armed Forces Radio and Television Service.