[More footsteps coming down the stairs from an upper floor.]

Mrs. Hale: Margaret?

[Mr. Hale enters with a book in his hands, turns to look at his wife and daughter.]

Mr. Hale: What's the matter?

Mrs. Hale: [clearing her throat] There is some talk...Margaret?

Mr. Hale: Margaret, what does she mean "talk"?

Margaret Hale: I did hear some people talking, when we were house-hunting.

Mrs. Hale: About why we moved to Milton...so abruptly. Why you left the church.

Mr. Hale: People are...talking?

Mrs. Hale: Well, it's only natural, after all, that people should wonder. It's not usual for clergymen to leave their parish, travel hundreds of miles, as if to escape something. Just because we follow you without question...

[Mr. Hale pulls a letter out of his pocket, opens it and hands it to his wife.]

Mrs. Hale: It's from the bishop. It's not about Frederick?

Mr. Hale: No. I keep that letter with me at all times. To reassure me that I made the right decision.

Mrs. Hale: [reading the letter] I-Is this all? [quoting]"I ask that all rectors in the diocese of the New Forest reaffirm their belief in the Book of Common Prayer."

Mr. Hale: Yes, there! Exactly. The effrontery! The man's ten years our junior. [sighs] He tries to treat us all like children.

Mrs. Hale: But this is a formality, surely...to reaffirm.

Mr. Hale: My conscience will not let me. I can and have lived quietly with my doubts for ... well, for some years now, but...I cannot swear publicly to doctrines I am no longer sure of. Now we men of conscience have to make a stand.

Mrs. Hale: We?

Mr. Hale: Yes, there are others who have doubts. We all agreed. We could not reaffirm.

Mrs. Hale: [rising from her seat] Are you telling me that all the rectors of the New Forest have decamped to industrial towns? [sarcastic and angry]

Mr. Hale: Well, some thought it possible to yield, but...I did not.

Mrs. Hale: [shouting] How many? How many refused?

Mr. Hale: I could not avoid it. I was FORCED into it. You must understand. [pleading]

Mrs. Hale: I understand.[calmer now] I understood...that the very worst must have happened...that you had lost your faith...or that you felt that God wished you to preach his word in these new places.[voice rising again] That some very GREAT matter must have happened to make you uproot us all, DRAGGING us up to this God-forsaken place! [Margaret flinches]

Mr. Hale: Maria! [Maragret leaves quickly]

Mrs. Hale: You gave up your livelihood...our source of income...on a formality. [she starts backing out of the room]

Mr. Hale: It was not like that Maria. [very distressed] Really, it IS not like that. I already have work - teaching. And I - I will find more. And...maybe I will discover THAT is my real vocation after all.

Mrs. Hale: The people here don't want learning. They don't want books and culture. It's all money and smoke. That's what they eat and breathe. [she backs into the shadows of the doorway]

[Margaret walking through streets hung with drying cloth. A woman stirring a big pot, dying fabric nearby. A baby is heard crying in the narrow passage.]

Margaret Hale: [voice heard as she writes another letter to her cousin] ...And you're right, Edith. Milton is very far from home, but it is quite an interesting and modern sort of place. There are at least twenty mills, all very prosperous, in and around the town, and it's full of new industry of one sort or the other. It is, of course, not remotely green like Helstone, and so large that I often lose my way. But the people are friendly enough, and there is nearly always someone to point me in the right direction.

[Going down some stairs in the street, a mill whistle sounds loudly. Many footsteps sound behind soon after, Margaret sees workers rushing down behind her. She holds onto her hat on her head and moves to the wall to avoid them.]

Worker 1: Ey up, what have we got here?

Worker 2: Watch out, lass! [as he roughly brushes past]

Woman Worker: [laughter] 'Scuse us! [She purposely knocks Margaret off balance down the stairs. Then they are all teasing and touching her.]

Margaret: Please. [gasping as they knock her about] Please...Please don't.[drops her purse] ...Just stop. Please...please stop. [more laughter as a young man coming down the stairs spies her bag on the ground and picks it up, holding it just out of her reach]

Young Man: Is this yours? [An older worker comes upon him from behind.]

Nicholas Higgins: Leave the lass alone.

Young Man: Here y'are!

Higgins: [repeats as he grabs the hand holding Margaret's purse] Leave the lass alone!

Young Man: She shouldn't take on so. We were only having a bit of fun.

Higgins: [handing Margaret her bag] Come on, miss. Be careful where you walk when the whistle sounds for the break. [accompanies her down the rest of the steps] But don't worry, they won't harm you. They just like a bonny face. And yours is a picture. [takes her arm] Come on. [leads her to a cab]

Margaret: I'm - I'm obliged to you. Thank you, sir.

Higgins: You're welcome, lass. [As he opens the carriage door for her, Margaret offers him a coin from her purse] No charge, miss. [He sees her up and into the cab, closes the door and watches it drive off with a thoughtful smile.]

Cab Driver: Get up! Hup, hup, hup!

[A man is sitting in a public hall ( the Lyceum) listening to Mr. Hale's lecture.]

Mr. Hale: So this century was probably the most productive, simply in terms of the number of...[sound fades out]

Margaret:  [her voice as she continues her letter to Edith] Father is working hard. He teaches students and also lectures [shows other men yawning and sleeping] though some of it is unpaid [snoring from the sleeping man]...and, I fear, unwanted. But he keeps happy.

Mr. Hale: ...Thank you. [some limp applause] Until, um...next Sunday. [Mr. Hale begins his walk down the aisle out of the auditorium.]