The Ghost and Mrs. Muir Page #7

I feel rather ashamed

about having taken it.

You should be.

Only as a writer,

of course.

It was much

too obvious a device.

And in questionable taste.

But very necessary.

I wanted to have

something of you

until I saw you again.

You're quite accomplished,

aren't you?

I should think

being Uncle Neddy

would satisfy anyone.

No. I also paint...

under the name of Renoir.

Oh, you're such a fool.

That's the nicest thing

you've ever said to me.

And what, if anything,

do you do as Miles Fairley?

Play the fool, generally.

Specifically, I behave

quite idiotically

towards a certain young lady

that I fell in love with

while passing on a stair.

Mr. Fairley, please.

I have no illusions

about my conduct.

Am I being unforgivably

offensive, Lucy?

Lucy?

That's your name.

It's been so long

since anyone called me that.

No, you've done nothing

really unforgivable.

It's just that I'm not--

Come and take a look

at my canvas.

Why, it's me.

You've been painting me.

You've been

watching me bathe.

But always from

a respectable distance.

Not too bad, is it?

I think

it's very flattering, really--

It will need

a thousand Renoirs.

That was unforgivable,

wasn't it?

But I shall not go away,

even if you send me...

and I shall see you again,

even if you forbid it.

I'm sure I have no control

over where you go or...

or what you do.

Then you won't forbid it.

So now you've been kissed

in the orchard all over again.

You've been spying on me.

I merely happened to be

cruising in the vicinity.

I don't believe you.

Why did you let him?

I--I didn't.

He took me unaware.

Ha ha ha! My dear,

since eve picked the apple...

no woman's ever been

taken entirely unawares.

Just what do you mean

to insinuate by that?

When a woman's kissed...

it's because deep down

she wants to be kissed.

That is nothing

but masculine conceit.

Nevertheless, it's true.

Well, now what happens?

He'll stay, or he'll go away.

It doesn't matter to me

one way or the other.

I think it matters to you

more than you'll admit.

Isn't that so, Lucia?

Why bother

to ask me, Daniel?

You seem to know my mind

better than I do.

You don't like him, do you?

He puts brilliantine

on his hair.

Most men do.

And he uses perfume.

Blasted near drove me

out of his room.

You shouldn't have been

in his room in the first place.

So you can find an excuse

for everything.

Only because you're

attacking him, Daniel.

I know. It's a natural

human reaction.

I wish you

wouldn't be so superior

just because

you're...not alive.

And he is,

very much so.

It's no crime to be alive.

No, my dear. Sometimes

it's a great inconvenience.

The living can be hurt.

I don't intend to be hurt.

No captain intends to pile his ship

up on a reef, but it happens.

You yourself said I should

go about in the world.

That means taking risks.

I know, my dear.

Real happiness is

worth almost any risk...

but be careful.

There may be

breakers ahead.

I will, Daniel.

Hello, Martha.

Hello.

Like my picture?

No.

That's honest, anyway.

It's indecent,

that's what it is.

Him painting you in your

bathing costume like you was a...

I don't know what.

Oh, come, Martha.

This is the 2Oth century.

We must rid ourselves

of the old fetishes and taboos.

Huh! Learnt a lot

of new words, ain't you?

We're never

too old to learn.

No. Nor to make fools

of ourselves either.

""Uncle Neddy.''

All right, my girl.

Let's have it.

What's he up to?

What's he want with you?

Well, I rather think he's going

to ask me to marry him.

And you'd be willing to.

I might.

Why shouldn't I?

Because he ain't good enough

for you, that's why not.

He's the kind of man

no decent woman

would associate with.

Martha, what right have you

to talk like that?

Well, I got a right

to me own feelings...

and I got a feeling about him.

How dare you!

I'm sorry.

It's just that I've been

so worried about you lately.

Now, Martha.

There's nothing to worry about.

I know he isn't perfect.

Perhaps he's conceited

and erratic...

even childish...

but he's real.

Real?

I thought I was impervious

to emotion...

a respectable widow woman

with a growing child

and a hide

like a rhinoceros...

but I'm not.

I need companionship

and laughter

and all the things

a woman needs.

I suppose I need love.

Well, I hope

he can give it to you.

Now, suppose you

go on downstairs

and make us both

a cup of tea.

I'll finish up.

Yes, ma'am.

Well, Daniel...

haven't you anything to say?

Happy?

Oh, I've never

felt like this before.

How?

I don't know.

Tell me.

Like...Like looking

down from high up...

all dizzy and unsure.

You won't fall.

I'll hold you.

It isn't right, it can't be,

to feel like this...

like...I don't know.

It is right

because you're happy.

Martha's gone up.

It's Anna's bedtime.

Just this once,

pretend you've forgotten.

But I didn't.

Just this one night.

There'll be so many nights,

darling...

two lifetimesful,

till we're both old

and even Anna's

grown and married, too.

What's wrong?

I'm jealous.

I'm even jealous

of a little girl.

But she's my daughter.

I can't just forget

my duty to her.

When you're with me...

I want you to forget about

everyone else in the world...

your duty, and what

the world will say.

I think you

must be a magician.

You make it seem all wrong

to consider my duty

and only right that I...

I thought you were

one woman with sense...

but you're like

all the rest of them.

Fall for any man

who'll promise you the moon

and end by taking everything

you have to give.

Oh, don't trouble yourself,

my dear.

It's not your fault.

I should have known

it was on the chart.

You've made your choice...

the only choice

you could make.

You've chosen life...

and that's as it should be...

whatever the reckoning.

And that's why

I'm going away, my dear.

Oh, I...I can't help you now.

I can only confuse you more

and destroy whatever chance

you have left of happiness.

You must make your own life

amongst the living.

And whether you'll meet

fair winds or foul...

find your own way to harbor

in the end.

Lucia, listen to me.

Listen, my dear.

You've been dreaming...

dreaming of a sea captain

that haunted this house...

of talks you had with him...

even a book

you both wrote together...

but, Lucia,

you wrote the book...

you and no one else--

The book you imagined

from his house...

from his picture

on the wall...

from his gear

lying around in every room.

It's been a dream, Lucia.

And in the morning

and the years after...

you'll only remember it

as a dream...

and it'll die...

as all dreams

must die at waking.

How you'd have

loved the North Cape

and the fjords and

the midnight sun...

to sail across the reef

at Barbados...

where the blue water

turns to green...

to the Falklands

where a southerly gale

rips the whole sea white!

What we've missed, Lucia!

What we've both missed.

Goodbye, my darling.

Listen to this.

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