Edge of Madness Page #3

you gave me.

You're building too close

to the creek.

This whole area floods

in the spring.

Hup!

We didn't need his help,

or anyone else's.

He's hoping we'll fail

so he can take it over.

Or he'll marry

his daughter off to George.

You'd be daft enough

to do it, huh?

- You borrowed the house, Simon.

- I paid him in furs.

He isn't so smart.

Lots of places have fireplaces,

open like this.

Every house in Orkney.

Annie:
That Jenny does have

her eye on you, George.

Pure and simple.

Nothing's pure,

and never simple.

(people chatter)

- Five?

- All right.

Good night.

Good night.

Sir?

Annie gave me this to mail.

I never mailed anything.

So I thought I should

give it to you.

Thank you, Ruth.

I'll take care of it.

Annie's voice:
"Dear Sadie,

I'm in terrible trouble.

I don't know who I can trust,

so I won't write of my situation

until I have heard from you."

"If you make your way here,

I'm sure that Mr. Mullen,

the fort headquarters,

will find you a place to stay.

Yours affectionately,

Annie."

It says nothing.

It says she's keeping

a great deal to herself.

I'll post the letter.

Then, if Sadie exists,

their correspondence continues

and we can learn what

really happened out there.

Good idea.

George:
(music) Talk not of love (music)

(music) It gives me pain (music)

(music) For love

has been my foe (music)

(music) He bound me with (music)

(music) An iron chain (music)

(music) And plunged me

deep in woe. (music)

He wrote that

for a secret love...

Agnes Craig,

a married woman.

A lover.

You have a haunting voice.

No wonder

they miss you at church.

There was not much to sing about

till you came, Annie.

I thank God every night

that you're here.

You've been

such a blessing.

- (Annie sighs)

- I'd better go back

and make supper.

Annie...

if you were my wife...

I would worship you.

Mullen's voice:

A month has passed,

and no light has been shed

on the young woman's true identity,

nor on the location

of her homestead.

Her youth and open demeanor

invite sympathy.

But in my experience,

judging a woman from her parents

is always a mistake.

I think I'd better

give this to you.

Thank you.

Look at this.

"Sadie Johnson...

deceased."

Oh dear.

- You want to tell her?

- I'd be wise not to.

For one thing, she's writing

another letter, a long one.

Yes, I see what you mean.

A man in your position

should always tell the truth,

but not all truths

need be told.

Exactly.

She has a bold script,

don't you think?

Yes.

Yes, a fascinating lass,

that one.

(music plays)

George:
(music) Till all the seas

gang dry, my dear (music)

(music) And rocks melt

with the sun! (music)

(music) And I will love thee

still, my dear (music)

(music) While the sands

of life shall run. (music)

Mr. Treece:

Well done. Bravo.

- What confidence.

- Extraordinary.

You've got a real

talent there, lad.

Where did you learn

to sing like that?

Well, I was raised

by my father's sister,

a schoolteacher.

Simon was not so lucky.

He was raised

by my mother's cousin,

a woodsman.

I can sing a tune...

but you might not

like it much.

I wanted to go on at school.

But Simon was impatient

to take out my father's claim.

How wonderful

that you have each other.

- You can sing at my church.

- No, he can't.

We're leaving now.

Get your coat.

No, son. we thought

you'd stay here tonight.

It's pitch black

out there.

I didn't want to come

in the first place.

- We could get up early, Simon.

- No!

God damn it!

I wouldn't think

of traveling so late.

- I'm staying.

- Afraid of the wolves, Reverend?

God will protect you.

I hope you'll come back

soon, Mrs. Herron.

Maybe I can't read

or write...

but I can do a day's work,

- and not whine about it.

- We're going, Simon.

I just wanted to thank you

for the best meal I've ever had,

and for your hospitality.

- God bless you all.

- He'd be dead if it weren't for me.

- 100 times over.

- We're going, Simon.

The wolves would be chewing

at his bony ass.

You saw how he was.

Oh don't mind him, George.

I made a raisin pie.

Sit down.

Thank you.

Jenny made

the custard, George.

Simon, I'm falling!

You think I'm stupid?

You think I didn't see

what's going on?

I should leave you both

out here to freeze.

George!

Get down.

Make a fire.

You're not ready?

Simon, I don't want to.

Let's get it nice

and warm in here first.

Take everything off now.

Just sit down and...

I'll undress for you.

You'll like it.

I'll take off everything.

Just sit there.

George will be here soon.

Be very quiet,

and go to bed.

George:
Annie!

Annie!

Annie!

Are you all right?

- Geor...

- Annie!

God damn you.

- Get the hell away from here.

- Annie!

Annie,

just say something.

- Anything.

- Annie:
Simon, you're drunk.

Tell him, honey...

how much you love

your husband.

I'm fine, George.

I'm fine.

No...

I'm coming inside.

Annie:
No, don't! Don't!

- Annie.

- Go away, George.

- Annie, please.

- Go now.

Please, go.

(Simon groans)

George:
Christ.

Mullen:

Thank you, Donnely.

I've had a response

from my inquiries.

- A Reverend McBain.

- Have they found George?

He says he arranged the marriage

between you and Mr. Herron.

Seems to know a great deal.

He's very concerned about you.

And...

he says that this has been

a horrible mistake.

Why did you come here?

Have you ever looked

into a dead man's eyes?

No, not a dead man's.

A dead child's.

My daughter...

just a few days old.

- I'm sorry.

- I blame myself.

But that doesn't

make it right, does it?

No, sir.

Death is forever.

Heeyah!

Annie,

do you remember me?

Reverend McBain, of course.

Poor wee child.

We've gone over every idea.

Then we got word you were here.

- Have you seen George?

- He's at the Treeces'.

He's distraught

and confused...

as I'm sure you are.

Annie...

George told us

what happened.

I think not, Reverend.

I think not.

What have you

got on, there?

I'm going to marry

the devil.

Tell George not to lie

unless he's absolutely certain

the truth will never be discovered.

Aye, we'll make

some arrangements, sir.

Her mother was a Catholic,

but her father was a Scot.

Make him go away,

Mr. Mullen!

Nobody's accusing her

of anything.

You weren't there, Reverend!

You don't know!

Will you just listen to me?

Calm down, Reverend.

This is going nowhere.

- (Annie hums)

- Donnely.

Mullen:
Did you believe

his story?

Reverend:
He's a member

of my congregation.

- He swore it is truthful.

- Either she's mad...

Am I wicked or insane?

Annie:
George!

He's finally asleep.

Annie...

it's all right.

Let's get inside.

Take me away.

We could start over...

our own place,

our own family.

Simon:
God damn you.

No, don't!

No!

- Annie:
George!

- I should do the same to you!

Annie:

He's sick from the drink.

He's fallen asleep.

He's sorry.

I'm sure

he'll apologize.

He can apologize to Satan,

for all I care.

What if the fire goes out?

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