 The Radio Theatre brings you Loretta Young and Brian Ahern in The Barretts of Wimpole Street. Ladies and gentlemen, your producer, Mr. William Keely. Greetings from Hollywood, ladies and gentlemen. Tonight, we introduce you to two fascinating people in one of the greatest love stories of all time. Robert Browning and the English poetess, Elizabeth Barrett, whose turbulent courtship is the theme of our play tonight. Adapted from the Broadway stage's success, The Barretts of Wimpole Street, later made into an outstanding motion picture by Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer. Our stars are Loretta Young and Brian Ahern, each making their 20th appearance on this stage. Brian and the role that he created so brilliantly in the stage play. Here's the first act of The Barretts of Wimpole Street, starring Loretta Young as Elizabeth Barrett and Brian Ahern as Robert Browning, with Vanessa Brown as Henrietta and Lester Matthews as Mr. Barrett. London a hundred years ago. It's an early evening in June and at 50 Wimpole Street, in a gloomy book-lined room, Dr. Chambers concludes a procedure which he's followed now for some six years, his weekly examination of Miss Elizabeth Barrett. You haven't found anything new, Dr. Chambers. It's your increasingly low vitality, Miss Elizabeth. Perhaps we're overdoing our literary efforts. A few articles for the Athenaeum, nothing more. Why not try something light and easy for a change? Poetry. You're not neglecting your poetry. Poetry, light and easy. I must tell that to Mr. Robert Browning when I meet him. Read his Sardella, Dr. Chambers, and then tell me that poetry is light and easy. Oh, well, if your mental exercises keep you contented... I shudder to think what my life would be if I hadn't attained for scribbling and study. Oh, if Papa were only a happier man, it would make such a difference to us all. Happily, my dear, when a man's an unmitigated tyrant. Oh, well, now what about your appetite? My appetite. Oh, that reminds me, Doctor. Do you remember Papa suggesting that kind of beer called a porter that might do me some good? Oh, yes. Excellent suggestion, too. Oh, forgive me. It was nothing of the kind. I have to drink it twice a day, and it's horrible. Surely something one abominates so intensely can't possibly do one any good. And it's no use my appealing to Papa. You poor little lady. I'll tell him, of course. Oh, thank you, Doctor. Thank you. Come in. Begging your pardon, Miss, that the master wishes most particularly to see Dr. Chambers before he leaves. Of course. Well, good night, Miss Elizabeth. Oh, good night, Doctor. And you won't forget the porter. I shall tell him right now. Oh, thank you. I'm just going to post your letters, Miss Boss. Shall I take plush with me? Oh, yes, the poor little dog. Clinging to this prison of a room all day. Oh, my good companion. Come, plush. Come, doggie. Oh, Miss Henrietta. Henrietta? Oh, come in, dear. Well, how was dinner? It was awful. Papa is in one of his moods. Oh, Dr. Chambers just went to see him. Oh, Bob, I do hope for all I say because his report of you isn't too good. Henrietta. Oh, forgive me, dear. What I mean is that good news of any kind is certain to aggravate him in his present mood. I don't know why it should, but it does. Bob, Dr. Chambers, you're not worse. Not worse and not better. Henrietta. Boss room, Arabelle. Oh, come in, dear. Get the note for Henrietta from Papa. Here, when he starts sending out notes from his study. Well, read it. Your cousin Bella is now in London. She proposes to call on you tomorrow at three o'clock with Mr. Bevin, her fiancé. You and Arabelle will receive them and if Elizabeth is well enough, you may bring them upstairs. I have invited Bella and her parents to dinner on Thursday. Papa. Well... Now I know why Papa was so distraised at dinner. Vile tempered, you mean. You know Papa despises being ordinarily polite to anyone. Now he's simply bound to show some kind of hospitality to our relation. Aren't you being unfair, dear? Papa seldom objects to our receiving friends here. Well, for a cup of tea in a bun and so long as the house is clear of them before he's back from the city. What enrages me is that I was expecting a friend tomorrow at three. Now I shall have to put him off. Why? Why what? Well, Bella and her fiancé won't eat your friend. What business is that of yours? Oh, Henrietta. I hate people plying into my affairs. Oh, dear. Usually she quite enjoys being quizzed about Captain Sir T's cook. Oh, poor Henrietta. Poor Henrietta? Why doesn't she realise that Papa will never, never permit a marriage in the family? Why, if he dreamed that she... I'm too dreadful to even think of what would happen to Henrietta. I'm sorry. Oh, my dear, I only meant tea. And instead you... you displease me. Oh, I'm Papa's daughter all right. When Bella and her fiancé call tomorrow, bring them to me. You can entertain Captain Cook all alone in the drawing room. Oh, what a thing it is to be a genius. You darling bar. But I must have this room to myself at half past three. Mr. Browning is calling. What I thought, Mr. Browning? Has Papa given his permission? Of course. I've heard he's wonderfully handsome. But didn't you say only last week you didn't intend to receive him? I didn't, and I... I don't want to now. But why? Because, my dear, I'm as vain as a peacock. When people admire my work there, quite likely to picture the poetess as the equal of her verses. It's dreadfully humiliating to disillusion them. Oh, bar, you're very interesting and picturesque. Isn't that the way guidebooks usually describe a ruin? Oh, bar! Well, Mr. Browning has been so insistent that out of sheer weariness I've given way. But I don't want an audience to witness the tragedy of his disillusionment. May I come in? Oh, please do, Octavius. Well, Doctor Satisfied. Oh, yes, I think so. Here, Octavius, read this. A note from Papa. Come in. How are you, bar? Hope the doctor's satisfied. Oh, yes, I think so. I say, Septimus, a note from Papa. The headlies are dining here Thursday. Not really. Is that you, Alfred? And how's our dear bar tonight? I hope the doctor was happy. Oh, yes, I think so. Oh, Charles? How are you feeling tonight, bar? I hope Dr. Chambers had a good report. Yes, I think so. Oh, come in, Henry. How are you, my dear? Is the doctor pleased? Oh, yes, I think so. Oh, I must say you are looking a little better. Well, and how is bar tonight? I'm afraid the doctor wasn't too pleased, was he? Oh, yes, I think so. Why not? Well, you're not looking so well. Is she, Henry? Why, I think she's looking considerably better. I say, George, the headlies are in town. They are? Bella and her swain are calling on the girls tomorrow. On Thursday, they're dining here in state. Dining here? I have some news, too. You may be interested to hear that Papa is going to Plymouth on business next week. Go on, George, go on. And he's not expected back for at least two weeks. Oh, George, how glorious. Oh, do you poke, George? Oh, don't be childish. Look, everyone, watch me poke. Papa. Good evening, Papa. I am most discreet. I have repeatedly pointed out that in her precarious condition, not more than three of you are to be in Elizabeth's room at the same time. As usual, my wishes have been disregarded. I am not aware that I've said anything amusing, Henrietta. I beg your pardon, Papa. And may I ask what you were just doing? I was showing bar how to dance the poker. Well, bar, I think I'll say good night. I should be grateful, sir, if you'd allow me to finish speaking. Oh, Papa, I like nothing better than having all the family here together. No, it couldn't possibly do me any harm. You are not the best judge of what is good or bad for you, my dear, which brings me to another matter. Dr. Chambers tells me that you persuaded him to discontinue drinking porter. I detest porter, Papa. Couldn't I take milk instead? I questioned him closely as to the comparative values of porter and milk, and he was forced to admit that porter came first. But when you dislike something to loathing, Papa, I don't see how I can do it. I must warn you, Elizabeth, that if you discontinue drinking porter, you will incur my grave displeasure. But when Dr. Chambers himself... I have no means of forcing you. A tankard will be left at your bedside. I only hope that tomorrow you will be able to tell me... Sorry, Papa. Henrietta. But I shan't drink it. Will you fetch a tankard of porter? No. I beg your pardon? You know how bar hates it. You're just torturing her because you like torturing her. Must I ask you a second time? Or pay me this instant? Go and fetch it, Henrietta. I can't stand it. No, please, please, dear. Yes, Pa. You had all better say good night to your sister. Good night, darling. Good night. Good night, Pa. Good night. Good night, Pa. Good night, Pa. Good night, Pa. Good night, Pa. Good night, Pa. Good night. And you have the porter, Henrietta? Yes, Papa. Set it down. You may leave the room. Good night, Pa, dear. Good night. Elizabeth, why do you look at me like that, child? And you're trembling. Why? I don't know. But you're not frightened of me. No, no, no. You mustn't say it. I can't bear to think that. Elizabeth, if you love me, you can't be afraid of me. For love casts out fear. You love me, my darling. You love your father. Yes. And you'll prove your love by doing as I wish. Oh, please, Pa, Pa, it's all so petty. Give me the tankard. You're acting of your own free will. Please, Pa, Pa, let's get this over and forget it. We're making the whole house miserable over a tankard of porter. Here it is, my dear. Thank you. You're not feeling worse tonight, my darling. Oh, no, Pa. Shall I... shall I say a little prayer before I go? Please. I'll kneel by your bed. Almighty God, in thy inscrutable wisdom, thou hast seen good to lay upon thy daughter, grievous and heavy afflictions. Give her to bear her sufferings in patience. Give her to fix her heart on thee and on that heavenly eternity which may at any moment open out to her. Purge her mind of all selfish thoughts and comfort her. This I beseech thee for the sake of thy dear son, Jesus Christ. Amen. Amen. Good night, my child. Good night. Oh, your bed, Miss Vaughn. Yes, Wilson. Will it never end, Miss? This long-gray death and life. Oh, Miss Vaughn, you shouldn't say such things. No, I suppose I shouldn't. Did Flush enjoy his run? Oh, yes, Miss. Is it a nice night? Oh, yes. And there's such a lovely moon. A moon? Oh, draw the curtains, Wilson. Raise the blind. There you are, Miss. You can see it lovely. Yes. Leave me for a little while. Yes, Miss Vaughn. So beautiful. What are you doing home? Vaughn's bright idea, Vaughn. Vaughn says that at least one male bearer ought to show up for cousin Bella. And when Vaughn says something, that thing is done. Aki. The captain said his cook is calling too. He's coming to see Henrietta. He is? Well, by Joe. She must have her captain to herself. Aki. Vaughn, doesn't it occur to you that we may be doing Henrietta an uncommonly bad turn, encouraging this romance? We'll chance that. Aki, last night when you six boys wished me good night, a queer thought came into my mind. You weren't alive at all. Just automaton. Oh, but I say, Vaughn. And Bella is just the same. You all seem to have cut out of life everything that makes life worth living. Excitement, frivolity, and love. We haven't cut him out, Vaughn. That operation was performed by dear Papa. I know, I know, but... Not counseling sedition, are you? No. But not resignation. Keep your souls alive, like Henrietta. I don't notice you making much struggle to rebel. But I don't count. You have your lives before you, my life is over. Rubbish. I won't have you saying, oh, what's that? Do I hear a carriage? I do. Our cousin has arrived in Mr. Bevan. Ready, Vaughn? Yes, I'm ready. Bring them up here any time you wish. When is the wedding to be? Oh, early in August. Oh, that reminds me. Where's dear Henrietta? At the moment, she's downstairs and attending a friend. A friend? Yes, Bella. Captain Serti is called. Oh, how thrilling. Oh, God, do so. Why did it be one of my bridesmaids? Do you think she... Oh, Henrietta, we were just talking about you, dear. Were you? Oh, you must be one of my bridesmaids. You simply must. I should love to, Bella, if Papa doesn't object. Object? Bella, dear, perhaps Mr. Barrett looks on bridesmaids as frivolous your relevancy. No, Mr. Bevan, it's not that. It's... Well, it's simply that Papa once owned slaves in Jamaica. And as slavery's been abolished there, he carries it on here instead. I'm quite serious. We're all his slaves here. Henrietta. We haven't a soul of our own, not one of us. Yes, Bella, it's more than likely he'll refuse to let me be your bridesmaid. And for no rhyme or reason except that he's out of temper. Uh, I said, what about tea? Oh, I'm sorry, I've got to mention it. Tea is quite ready, Bella. The Captain Cook hasn't swallowed it all. Captain Cook has already left. Oh, he has. It's been so lovely seeing you. And on our dear Miss Barrett, and on our... Goodbye, Bella, Mr. Bevan. Coming, Henrietta. In a minute. Oh, Bob, I'm so miserable. Miserable? And so why are they happy? Thirties asked me to marry him. Henrietta, yes. Oh, Bob, what are we to do? Thirties has only money enough to keep himself decently. If I only had your 400 a year, I might defy Papai and marry Thirties tomorrow. What earthly good is that money to me? I'd give it to you so gladly. I know you would, darling. But think what your life would be if Papai knew that you'd made it possible for me to marry. Oh, my dear, can it possibly be wrong to want a man's love desperately? And a home? And babies of my own? Who am I to answer a question like that, darling? Love and children? Oh, they're so utterly remote from my life. Yes, I know, dear. But love and children, they're natural to an ordinary girl like me. Yes? Well, that's me. And Mr. Browning is here. I'd better be off. Mr. Browning? Oh, no, no, no. Stay here, Henrietta. I can't see him. I can't. I just don't feel up to it. Wilson, tell Mr. Browning I'm just not well enough to see him. Where is he, Wilson? The library, Miss. I'll bring him up myself. Henrietta. Oh, Wilson, my hair. Is it tidy? Yes, ma'am. Oh, and please arrange the cover. No, don't ever mind, Wilson. Thank you. That will be all. Yes, Miss. I shouldn't. I know I shouldn't. I shouldn't. Mr. Robert Browning. Miss Barrett? How do you do, Mr. Browning? Dear Miss Barrett, at last. At last. We'll return with the Barrett's of Wimpole Street, starring Loretta Young and Brian Ahern. We'll return you now to Mr. William Keely. Act two of the Barrett's of Wimpole Street, starring Loretta Young as Elizabeth Barrett and Brian Ahern as Robert Browning. A few seconds have passed. In the presence of the ardent and dashing Robert Browning, Elizabeth Barrett is quite helplessly transfixed. By that link, she manages a polite suggestion. Won't you take off your cape, Mr. Browning? Oh, thank you. Oh, this room. Wonderful. You may think, Miss Barrett, that this is the first time I've been here. You're wrong, you know. But... You're quite wrong. Your books. Yes, yes, the way they're arranged and that tendril of ivy slanted across your window. Oh, and the bust of Chaucer. Yes, yes, of course. My friend Mr. Kenyon has told you. I've read all the details I possibly could out of him. And my imaginations applied the rest. You've frightened me, Mr. Browning. Oh, why? Because of what Mr. Kenyon might have told you about... about myself. But be hopeless for me to try to live up to his description. He never told me anything about you personally that had the slightest interest for me. Because I knew it already. And better than Mr. Kenyon, old friend of yours, though he is. Do my poor writings give me so hopelessly away? Hopelessly, utterly entirely. To me, I can't speak for the rest of the world. You frighten me again, Mr. Browning. No. But you do. For I'm afraid it would be quite useless ever to try to play act with you. Oh, quite useless. And I shall always have to be just myself. Always. Oh. And you too, Mr. Browning. Always? Just myself. But being myself comes to me as easily as breathing, Miss Barrett. It's the play-acting I can't manage. Never could. Oh, but that's extraordinary. In your writings, you'll never do anything but play-act. I know. And you would never have been yourself in any one of your poems. Shall I tell you why? I'm a very modest man. Oh. Oh, I am really. But I didn't question it, Mr. Browning. So modest, I fully realized that if I wrote about myself, my hopes and fears, hate and loves and all the rest of it, my poems would be intolerably dull. Oh, but those poems with their glad and great hearted acceptance of life and those wonderful people of yours all so tingling with life. Oh, no, no, you'll never begin to realize how much I owe to you. You really mean that. What? Why, Mr. Browning? Oh, no, no, but of course you do or you wouldn't say it. And you'll believe me when I tell you that what you've just said makes up to me a thousand times over for all the cold shouldering I've had from the public. Oh, it infuriates me. Sometimes I detest the British public. Oh, dear old British public, at least it gives us generously the jolly pastime of abusing it. And mind you, Miss Barrett, I have an uneasy feeling that my style is largely to blame for my own popularity. But surely not. Didn't we just agree never to play act? Well, perhaps there are some passages a little involved. I mean, well, a little too profound for the general reader. Oh, no, no. No, it's not what I say, but how I say it. Oh, but sometimes there are passages. I mean here, for example. Oh, which volumes is this? Oh, it's so dull. Yes, yes. I've marked one or two parts which do rather puzzle me. Oh, here, Mr. Browning. Ah, let me see. How the monarch of mankind succumbed to the first fool that was in my style. Well, of course, that... But if for the... That's extraordinary. Extraordinary. Well? Well, Miss Barrett, when that passage was written, only God and Robert Browning understood it, but now only God understands it. What do you say? Shall we lighten this great darkness by pitching Sordello into the fire? Oh, we should do nothing of the kind. I love Sordello. And shall I tell you why? Because it's a colossal failure. Oh, if by failure you mean an attempt, well, yes, you're right. I, too, am always making colossal attempts and always failing. Oh, but isn't one such failure worth a hundred small successes? Oh, a thousand and more. You think so too? Of course. Miss Barrett, you smiled when I told you that Kenyon had no need to describe you because I knew you already, but what you've just said about success and failure proves to me how right I was. All Kenyon did was to fill in the background. I had painted the portrait with the true soul of you, ardent and lovely, looking out of it. Ardent and lovely. And you think you know me. Oh, Mr. Browning, too often impatient and rebellious. Well, what of it? I have no love for perfect patience under reflection. My portrait is the portrait of a woman, not of a saint. Did Mr. Kenyon... I suppose he told you that I'm a dying woman? We are all of us dying. Oh. And that our family life was one of unrelieved glooms? Yes, he hinted at something of the sort. Oh, frankly now, Mr. Browning, do you find me such a pitiable object? I find you, as I expected to find you, full of courage and gaiety. And yet, in spite of what you say, I'm not at all sure that Kenyon's colours were too somber. But that's entirely up to you. Listen to me. Those colours must be scraped off. Why, the whole background must be repainted. And in that splendid work, I must have a hand. Mr. Browning, I... You say my verses about you. Oh, then nothing. It's I. I, who I'm going to help you now, we've come together at last. And I don't intend to let you go again. But really, I... No, no, listen to me. Give me your hands. There, there now. Miss Barrett, I've more life in me than is good for one man. It sees young races in me. Up to now, I've spent a little of all that surplus energy in creating imaginary men and women. But there's still so much that I've no use for but to give. May I give it to you? Oh, don't you feel new life? Tingling and prickling up your fingers and arms right into your heart and brain. Please, please, Mr. Browning. Let my hands go. Really, rather, an overpowering person. No, no, no. Don't tell me again that you're afraid of me. You're not. It's life you're afraid of. And that shouldn't be. Life, yes. Well, when life becomes a series of electric shocks... Oh, was it as bad as all that? My holding your hand? Indeed, yes. I hesitated meeting you. You laugh at me, Mr. Browning. But we very nearly didn't meet today, after all. I was panic-stricken when my maid announced you. Not as nervous as I, Miss Barrett. You? Yes, yes. And I'm anything but a nervous man. But that moment was the climax of my life. Miss Barrett, do you remember the first letter that I wrote you? It was a wonderful letter. You may have thought that I dashed it off in a fit of white-heart enthusiasm over your poems. I didn't. I weighed every word of every sentence. And of one sentence in particular... I love your verses with all my heart. And I love you, too. It was charmingly impulsive of you. Oh, and I tell you, there was nothing impulsive about it. That sentence was as deeply felt and as anxiously thought over as any sentence I have ever written. And it's quite useless. You're trying to put aside the word with a smile and a jest. I said love. I mean, love. Oh, really, Mr. Browning, I must ask you... I'm neither mad nor morbidly impressionable. I must sing and level-headed as any man alive, yet all these months, since first I read your poems, I've been haunted by you. And today, you are the center of my life. If I were to take you seriously, Mr. Browning, it would, of course, mean the quick finish of a friendship, which promises to be very pleasant. Why? Well, you know very well that love, in the sense that you use the word, can have no place in my life. Why? Why, for many reasons. As I told you before, I... I'm a dying woman. I refuse to believe it. For if that were so, God would be callous. And I know that he's compassionate. Life would be dark and evil. And I know that it's good. You must never say such a thing again. I forbid you to. Forbid, Mr. Browning? Yes, forbid. Well, since you forbid me to speak of you as I feel, should I not be allowed a little forbidding as well? Yes. My dear Miss Barrett, what a splendid beginning to our friendship. Why, we've known each other a bare ten minutes. And yet we've talked intimately of art and life and death and love. We've ordered each other about, and we've almost quarreled. Could anything be happier or more promising? Well, with your permission, I'm going. Now, Mr. Kenyon impressed upon me that strangers tire you. Not that I'm a stranger. Still, I can see that you are tired. When may I call again? I don't quite know. Well, next Wednesday suit you? Well, perhaps it would be better. Next Wednesday then. But really, I... At half past three again? Yes. Au revoir then. Goodbye. Au revoir. Au revoir. Thank you. By the window, Wilson. But how did you... You walked to the window here? He's turning the corner now. How fast he walks. Oh, now he's gone. Your doctors have just left me. Yes, papa. It's most astonishing, this phenomenal improvement, these last three months. Yes. But who is this fool, Dr. Waterloo? Oh, Dr. Chamber says he's one of the cleverest physicians in London. Papa, did Dr. Waterloo speak to you about next winter? He did. And that I shall be fit to travel to Italy in October if you... Italy! So, it's out at last. And how long has this precious plot been hatching? Since June, papa. And your brothers and sisters know of this delightful project? Well, yes, I have mentioned it to them. And that charlatan, Browning. Oh, papa, what does it matter? It matters. It's nothing that I alone should be shot out of your confidence, ignored, deserted, Elizabeth. If returning health means such a sad change in your character, I shall be driven to wish that you again lie helpless on that sofa. No. There's nothing more to be said. But there is more to be said. At first, the thought of Italy seemed too wonderfully impossible. But now I know that nothing really stands in my way of going, but I have every right to go. Right? Yes. Oh, if only I could get your consent. I said nothing, only that I might have a perfectly arranged plan to place before you, after the doctors had agreed. If I have acted tactlessly, papa... Self, self, self. Didn't it even once occur to you that your father would be left here alone? Alone. I'll tell you alone. Your brothers and sisters might as well be shadows for all the companionship they afford me. And you too, as your strength returns, draw more and more away from me. Well, that's not true. Who used to be your whole world? I who love you. Papa. Who is it? If you please, Mr. Browning has called. Mr. Browning appears to consider this his second home. I haven't seen him since last Wednesday. Indeed. Wilson, you might tell Mr. Browning to come up. Well, tell me quickly. Dr. Waterlow, what did he say? Well, Dr. Waterlow was quite taken out of his gloomy self. With the astonished delight at my improvement. Oh, say that again. The whole sense. I should like to see it in letters of fire. Elizabeth, this is the best moment I've had since I got your note giving me permission to call. And how many years ago was that? Three months. Three months? Absurd. Why, I've known you a lifetime and over. But the doctors and Italy. What about Italy? Are they agreed about your wintering there? I can go in October unless there's a relapse. Relapse? There's no such word. October? October? Why, it's extraordinary. If you know October, it suits my own plans to perfection. Your plans, Robert? Well, of course I shall go too. May I call on you often in Italy? Where do you intend to stay? What is it? What are you laughing at? Oh, because. I shall be at 50 Wemple Street next winter. Your father? Yes. But in heaven's name. Oh, it's so hard to explain, Robert. The power's very devoted to me at least. Devoted? Elizabeth, may I speak plainly? Oh, but you don't understand the situation, Robert. How could you? Oh, whatever. Farewell, I'll say nothing. Tell me, I don't understand. Well, you're quite right, I don't. I don't understand a devotion that demands all, takes all, and gives nothing in return. I don't understand a devotion that grudges you in a ray of light and glimpse of happiness. And that doesn't even stop at risking your life to gratify its colossal selfishness. Devotion. Oh, Robert, I must ask you. Forgive me, but I won't be silent any longer. Even before I met you, I knew that sickness wasn't your only shadow in your life. And all these months, I've stood by and said nothing. I might find you tired and sick. After hateful scenes, I could picture only two vividly. I must pretend to know nothing, see nothing, and feel nothing. Well, I've done with pretence. It's not just your happiness, which are at stake now. It's your very life. And I forbid you to play with your life, and I have the right to forbid you. No, no, no, please. All right, you won't deny it. You're too uttered, candid, and true. Well, even before I passed that door, our eyes first met across this room. I loved you, and I shall go on loving you to the end and beyond. You know that. You've always known. Yes, yes, I've always known. And now, for pity's sake, for pity's sake, leave me. No, but no, I shall never go. I shall never leave you. Oh, Robert, have mercy on me. I love you, Robert. I love you. I love you. Take my marching orders and to go out of your life. Oh, I should have refused to see you after our first meeting. But I loved you then, though I would have denied it, even to myself. Robert, I was hopeless with the happiness I never dreamed was possible to see you. That's my only excuse. And God knows I need one for not having sent you away from me at once. I love you. Do you know what you've done to me, Robert? I could have laughed when Dr. Chamber said heal myself by wanting to live. Yes, I wanted to live. But only because life meant you. Because of you, the air was once more sweet to breathe. And the world was good and green again. And now, I'm to turn my back on you and go. But what have I to look forward to? I love you and I want you for my wife. I can't marry you. How can I? Not today or tomorrow, not this year. I may never be able to marry you, Robert. Then I shall die proud and happy in having spent a lifetime fighting for the richest prize a man was ever offered. No. No. Robert, put aside your dream of me. Look at me as I am. A pale ghost of a woman. Do you think I'm not buoyed to be swept off my feet by an impulse or a sentimental dreamer blind to realities? There's no man alive who sees things with clearer eyes than I do. And I tell you in all soberness that my need of you is as urgent as your need of me. If your weakness asks my strength for support, my abundant strength cries out for your weakness to complete my life and myself. Have you thought what your position here would be like if you went on seeing me after the day? And if... if even a whisper should get to my father... I know, I know. But if we were to say goodbye today, we should have nothing but beautiful memories of each other. No disillusionment. No bitterness, no remorse. Is it you who are speaking? What do you mean? I don't know you. We're to dream away the rest of our lives in tepid sadness rather than risk, utter disaster for utter heaviness. Oh, I don't know you. I never thought you were a coward. A coward? I... Oh, yes. Yes, I'm a coward, Robert. But it's not for myself that I'm afraid. No, I know that. What's another disaster to me, Robert? But you, you're a fighter. You were born for victory and triumph. This disaster should come to you through me. This is a fighter. But I'm sick of fighting alone. I need a comrade at arms to fight beside me. But not one already wounded in battle. Wounded, but undefeated, undaunted, unbroken. What finer comrade could a man ask for? Robert. No. But Robert, please. No, I'll never leave you. Never. In a moment, we'll return with the third act of the barrette of Wimple Street, starring Loretta Young and Brianna Hearn. Act three of the barrette of Wimple Street, starring Loretta Young as Elizabeth Barrett and Brianna Hearn as Robert Browning. For two weeks now, a strange happiness has pervaded the barret household. Easily explained by the fact that the master of 50 Wimple Street has been away on business. In his absence, two gentlemen have been almost daily callers. Henrietta's Captain Cook and Mr. Robert Browning. You look tired, sweetheart. You're not being too ambitious. No, no, I feel wonderfully well, Robert. Those eyes of yours give you hopelessly away, my darling. What is it? Has your father returned? A few moments ago, a letter arrived from him, Robert. We're moving to the country. We're leaving London. Well, you think that will make no difference to us? I think that I know your father perhaps even better than you. He's grown jealous of your life here, of your pleasures and your friends. Slowly and surely, you're to be parted from them. He made it impossible for me to go to Italy. And now he'll make it impossible for me to see you at all. This precious letter may mean all that. But it means a great deal more. It means that you will be in Italy before the month is out. Italy? Yes, and with me. Robert. It means we must be married at once. Do you know what you're saying? I know what I'm saying, and I repeat it. We must be married at once, my darling. Listen to me. No, no, please don't touch me. I can never marry you, Robert. You can and you shall. You marry me if I have to carry you out of this house and up to the altar. Do you seriously imagine that I'm going to be elbowed out of your life just to satisfy the selfish jealousy of a man whom I no longer believe to be sane? Robert, it's not only Papa who stands between us. It's I. Oh, Robert, however much stronger I may become, I shall always remain an invalid. You tell me that you want me sick or well. Elizabeth. Please, please, you will listen to me. As your wife, I should be haunted day and night by thoughts of all the glorious things you would have enjoyed, but for me, by the ghosts of your unborn children. Oh, Elizabeth. Oh, I thank God Papa's the letter arrived while we're still free, and have the strength to shake hands and say goodbye. Well, on the whole, I think this will be our best plan of campaign. Oh, please. We'll meet at Meriband Church on Saturday and be married quietly some time in the morning. I'll see about a license at once. Oh, please, Robert. Directly afterwards, you'd better return here. Of course, we could start the journey at once, but I think it would be better, my darling, if you had a week to prepare. Now, the boat train leaves on Saturday. It is at nine o'clock. Oh, Robert. Oh, Robert. And I always believe that Papa is the most overbearing man in the world. And yet you've known me for some time now. I suppose that I were... I was to die in your hands. Are you afraid, Bob? Afraid? I'd sooner die with you beside me than live a hundred lives without you. But how would you feel if I were to die like that? And what would the world say I feel? Oh, I should be branded as little better than a murderer. Oh. And what I should feel... I'll leave you to imagine. And yet you ask me to come with you. Yes, yes. I'm prepared to risk your life and all much more than mine to get you out of this dreadful house into the sunshine and to have you for my wife. You'll love me like that. I love you like that. Oh, Robert. Robert, give me a few hours. Before I sleep tonight, I'll write and tell you of my decision, please. You promise me that. I promise. I'm leaving, Bar, Mr. Browning. May I bring him in now? Bar, you're not listening. It's 30. She's in his full regimental. Of course, darling, bring him in. You may come in, 30. Captain 30's cook, Bar. My sister, Elizabeth. You're servant, Miss Barrett. Greatly honoured, ma'am, on my word I am. Oh, 30, tell her. Tell her. Oh, well, I'd say Miss Barrett... Yes. Yes, I... Yes, Captain, yes, I know. And how I wish I could do something for you both. I can't get it into his poor head, Barrett. Such things as asking for my hand are now simply not possible. That's 50 wimples. But if I spoke to Mr. Bass... Captain Cook, if you were directly descended from the Emperor of the Moon and came here with a fortune of creases in one hand, you're back sooner than I expected, Papa. I don't think that I've had the privilege Captain Cook, my father. Papa, Captain 30's cook. You're servant, sir. Captain Cook is a great friend of George and Archie. Indeed, sir. My sons are rarely home this time of the day. Time? Time? Yes, by Jove, high time I was moving. Well, goodbye, Miss Barrett. Goodbye, Captain Cook. I'll see you at 30. You will remain here. Well, good day, Miss Henrietta. You received my letter, Elizabeth? Yes, Papa. What has just happened fully confirms the wisdom of my decision. Fortunately, our new home is so far from town that callers are not likely to trouble us. Our new home? You have not told your sisters? No, not yet. Your letter just arrived. I have taken a house in Surrey. We shall move on the 22nd. Why? I am not in the habit of accounting for my actions to my children. But I have a right to ask you, Papa. If Captain Cook is to be forbidden... Captain Cook, come here. Yes, Papa. What is this fellow to you? I told you, he's a friend of George Anarchy. Answer me. What is this man to you? Papa, please. Please, you're hurting me. Will you answer me? Oh, Papa, I love him. Let her go, Papa. Let her go at once. I won't have it. Could you? You knew of this? Yes. For some time. You dare to tell me? Oh, Papa, please. I'm not a bad girl. I swear to you, I'm not. Now, listen to me. Unless I have your solemn word that you will neither see nor communicate with this man again, you will leave my house at once and go to petition any way you please. You have your choice. Take it. Is it nothing to you that I... that I shall hate you for this to the end of my life? Less than nothing. Do you give me your word? I have no choice. You will go to your room and remain there until you have my permission to leave. Elizabeth, have you anything to say to me? Then I shall not see you again until you repent of your wickedness and ask for God's forgiveness and mine. Wilson, are you my friend? There's nothing I wouldn't do, Miss Barr. You know that. I... I'm going to be married with her on Saturday. Married? And directly afterwards. I shall return here for a few days. The following Saturday, Mr. Browning and I are sailing to Italy. Will you come with us? Italy? Oh, Miss, I'd be that proud, too. Thank you. I'm writing to Mr. Browning now. I shall want you to take the letter to him at once. Just think, Miss, a bride of one whole week and in just 90 minutes we'll be out of this house bound for a life among the Italians. Wilson. Wilson. About the carriage. Are you sure it would be there? Oh, yes, Miss. Half past three at the corner. Have you finished your goodbyes, Miss? Yes. I've written to them all. Oh, Miss Barr, what I give to be here tonight when the master finds out. Oh, this waiting is killing me. Why don't you just sit down and write some poetry, Miss? Poetry? Yes, Miss. That'd make the time pass nicely, I'm sure. Oh, Wilson. Oh, Barr. Barr, I must speak to you. Oh, Rita, I thought you were gone out. Wilson, may I speak to my sister alone? Yes, Miss. Barr is leaving London, 13. He wants to see me. But Barr made me swear never to see him or write to him. But I've broken my oath. Oh, my poor Henry. And I glory in breaking it. I shall go out of my way to lie to Popeye as often as grossly as necessary. Why do you tell me this? Because I want you to say that I'm wicked and deceitful so that I can fling the words back in your face. Oh, oh, Barr, darling, forgive me. I'm all love and hate. I don't know which is the worst torture. And you don't think I can understand. All that I do, I do with all my heart. Miss Barr, Miss Barr, the master, Miss, he's just come in. Papa, he must know someone must have told him. Told him? Told him what? Nothing. It's only that Papa hasn't seen me for days now. And, well, scenes of forgiveness are always trying. Barr, you're as white as a sheet. Oh, no. And you will not, and you understand nothing. Nothing is coming. Where have you been, Henrietta? Nowhere. Where are you going? To tea with Aunt Hedley. Is that for truth? Yes. You remember your oath? Yes. Leave us alone. You too, Wilson. I wish to speak to your mistress. Do you know why I'm back so early today? No, Papa. Because it's ten days since I last saw you. And I could bear it no longer. Am I to blame for that, Papa? Do you know that night after night I had to call up all my willpower to hold me from coming here to your room to forgive you? Today I could bear it no longer. Oh, my darling, your love is all I have left in the world. Well, you might have had the love of all of your children. Papa, you don't know how I pity you. Pity? I don't want pity. Elizabeth, my child, my darling. The only happiness I shall never know is yours to give or take. You must depend on me, lean on me. I want all your heart. Please, Papa, I can't stand it. I can't stand anymore. Forgive me, my dear. I was carried away. I'll leave you now. Please. I shall pray for you. Yes, pray for me, Papa. Pray for me. We must go now, at once. But the cab won't be there yet. Then we must walk about the street. Oh, but if he sees us leaving. We'll try, sad. I belong to my husband now. Papa can kill me. Why, dear Miss? I don't. Then I must go alone. Alone? I'll fetch my things at once. Oh, oh, don't get me. Flush. Flush, where is it? Here it is. Oh, if you bark now, Flush, we're lost. Let me look. And we're ready to leave. He's resting for dinner. Who was making that hideous noise just now? Where is Elizabeth? Hush, dear Hush. Here, Papa. This letter. Far left it for you. What do you mean? She left letters for us all. This is yours. You must forgive her, Papa. Not for her sake, for yours. I thought I hated you. But I don't. I pity you. Married? Yes. A dog will have her dog. A dog must be destroyed once. But Papa, are you... You will take it to the veterinarian tonight. You understand me? Good night. I really don't see what the poor little beast has done. You understand me. In her letter to me, Papa. Yes? Far right. She's taken Flush with her. The combined total of 40 evenings Loretta Young and Brian Ahern have entertained us in this theatre, always with the same high standard of performance. Thank you, Bill. I've looked forward for a long time to doing the Barrett to Wimper Street with Brian. Well, it's been a great pleasure, Loretta. And we've looked forward for a long time to bringing you two together in this play. Good night. Good night, and thanks for the grand performance. This is William Keely, saying good night to you from Hollywood.