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This came for you, reverend mother.

Thank you.

He needn't wait.

Thank you. You needn't wait.

Open the gate, sister Angelique.

Forgive me, reverend mother,

but if you are going to St. Pierre,

the tide is due to rise,

and if you should get caught...

Child, the man who wrote this letter

may ruin the happiness of a family whom we all respect.

Of course, I could stay here and pray to the good lord.

Yes, you could do that, reverend mother. You're not so young anymore.

But I think the good lord

would prefer me to do something about it.

And my age is my own business...

And you can come with me.

Sophie. Reverend mother.

How nice to see you. Do sit down.

No. I haven't time for that.

But I haven't seen you for years. Wh--

Sophie.

Is something wrong?

Edmond Ozanne has returned to St. Pierre.

Edmond.

Naturally, he doesn't know you're Mrs. Patourel,

and he wants to see you.

Oh...

There is my answer-- my 2 daughters.

You don't mention Octavius.

Don't you love him?

Octavius? Of course. He is my husband.

But you didn't love him

when your parents forced the marriage on you.

Octavius is kind and devoted.

He's been a loving father to his children,

and he's carried on the family business beautifully.

But Edmond is still the man you love...

And always will.

My parents forbade me to marry Edmond because...

Because he drank too much, talked too much.

Because they considered the marriage unsuitable, and they were right.

Don't lie to me, Sophie Patourel.

You'd have thrown yourself over the Cliff that night

if I hadn't stopped you.

Help me. Help me, reverend mother.

Octavius thinks I scarcely knew Edmond.

He and my children must never know the truth.

Then you must go and see Edmond today.

Tell him about your marriage, your daughters.

Let him know unmistakably that the past is buried forever,

and he must say nothing to jeopardize your family's happiness.

Yes. I'll see him.

I'll go today.

Good. Oh, and I must hurry.

The tide may not wait, even for mother superior.

There's Edmond now.

Oh, Mrs. Metivier, you flatter me.

He has changed... Shockingly.

Cabby, let's have this bag first, eh?

Who is the young man?

That is his son.

Edmond married in England.

His wife died when the boy was born.

Come, sister.

Good-bye, my child.

Good-bye, reverend mother.

Oh, mama, help me get my bonnet on properly.

That's a darling.

Marianne.

Marianne!

I won't be long.

I'm with papa.

I wrote to London this morning

and told them not to send you the plans of the steamboat.

Marianne, why don't you get married?

And I signed your name to the letter.

You what?

I said, I signed your name to the letter.

Marianne, Marianne, it's most unseemly for--

oh, nonsense, papa. These are modern times.

I've made up my mind. You must marry.

Sir Charles-- That's our man.

You must know that he loves you.

Oh, don't think mama and I didn't notice that you spent 3 hours

with him in the conservatory last night.

Yes. It took me 3 solid hours

to coax sir Charles to give me this report.

You see? It's marked, "confidential."

Oh, here, dear--

your new glasses.

These figures prove that at the present cost of operation,

the steamboat will eat up all its profits.

I still say it's most unseemly

for a young woman to know so much about the shipping business.

Oh, papa. You'll be using steamships in 8 to 10 years,

but by that time, you'll be retired,

and I'll be running the business.

By that time, you'll be married to some smart young fellow

who'll carry on in my place.

If I ever marry,

it won't be because the bridegroom is a good businessman.

Marianne, my dear,

sometimes you shock me.

Of course I do.

I'm bold and scheming,

and sometimes I think I'm not quite nice.

Marianne, Marguerite is waiting.

Oh, be an angel and run down and tell mama

that in exactly 5 minutes I shall descend the front staircase

so elegantly I'll frighten myself.

You're incorrigible.

Marguerite.

Oh, Marianne, you're beautiful, simply beautiful.

I am not beautiful. I'm immensely chic.

Smell. It's a new perfume from Paris.

I think it's a little indecent, don't you?

Marianne, the neckline of that dress,

do you think it modest?

Mama, it's a very latest style.

Papa, my angel, what do you think? Is it all too bold?

Not on you, my dear. God has given you that quality.

Oh, no. It's all my own doing.

Don't be rude to your father.

Go where you're going

before I lose my Patience with you.

We're going shopping. Come, Marguerite.

Shopping? In that dress?

But, mama, this dress is only to prove

that even if we are the richest people on the island,

we are not snobs, at least I'm not.

As a matter of fact, today I feel particularly common.

What are we going shopping for?

We're not going shopping.

We're calling on our new neighbors, both of them.

Look alive, you young whippersnapper.

Come in. Come in.

Well, bless my soul, if you aren't a pretty pair of fish!

William! William, come and see what I've got:

A pink one and a green one.

Are there any more of you outside,

say, a yellow one or a blue one?

William, make your manners.

Bow to the little dears.

This is my son William,

and your name is?

Marianne, and you're sweet.

Well, thank you.

And yours?

Marguerite.

Marianne and Marguerite,

2 pretty names for 2 pretty little dears.

Holy Moses, I don't know that I ever heard

2 prettier names.

Did you, William?

I don't like them.

Too fancy and too much alike.

He's a vicious little brute, isn't he?

Come. Sit down, ladies.

I've been trying to save him from the likes of you

ever since the day he was born.

I never saw them until this minute.

Oh, he doesn't mean saving you from us.

He means from good manners, respectability, sobriety.

Well, I'll be--

Oh, please don't be angry with her.

She talks like that to everybody.

Angry with her?

Why, if I were a young man, I'd...

You'd what?

I'd run away as if you were the devil himself.

And a fine job you've made of yourself and your son.

Huh?

If this impossible youth can be your son.

Impossible! Ha ha ha!

What's wrong with me?

Well, you could start making yourself civilized

by tying your shoelaces.

I wouldn't give a penny

for all the civilized shoelaces in London.

Oh, a revolutionary.

And just what would be your idea of a satisfactory existence?

If I were running this world, I'd pass a law

that everyone could do exactly as he pleased.

Convincing rascal, isn't he?

Ladies, I am Ozanne,

Dr. Edmond Ozanne,

and you are Marianne and Marguerite what?

Excuse me, please.

I'm afraid my daughters are rather unconventional.

Naturally one calls on a new neighbor,

but not without warning, of course.

I am Mrs. Patourel. You remember me?

And you are Edmond Ozanne.

Yes, ma'am, and you are Sophie.

We used to know each other when we--

yes. I was just about to tell your daughters

that I didn't know you very well,

my father being a shopkeeper

on a lower social level

than your mother's family.

Oh, Edmond, that makes us sound like snobs.

Oh, but you are, mama. You're sweet, but you are a snob.

Pay no attention to her.

My husband--I don't think you ever knew him.

His name is Octavius Patourel.

And he's a bit of a snob, too.

Close your mouth, young woman.

Your mother is a gracious lady

merely trying to be kind to a good-for-nothing

who drinks more than is good for him.

Oh, Edmond.

Yes, I...

The only times I ever really got away from this island

and what I left behind here

was through a bottle of...

Well...

But I won't presume on boyhood acquaintanceship.

Oh, I forgot. My son.

Salute the lady, William.

You're very like your father as a boy.

Let's go now. Come, girls.

Good-bye, Dr. Ozanne. I'm coming again... Soon.

An honor, young lady.

Good-bye.

Good-bye, William.

Good-bye, William.

You would look much more like a human being

if you'd comb your hair.

Thank you, Edmond, for helping me out.

They mustn't ever know that you and I once...

Once loved each other beyond all else.

Don't worry, Sophie.

No one will ever hear it from these aging lips.

Aha, and which of the two young ladies

put that comb in your hand?

It was Marianne.

Or is her name Marguerite? It was the nice one.

Why, thank you. Who sent them?

Oh, this is nice.

Are there 2 of them?

Well, shouldn't miss Marianne Patourel

be told the name of her secret admirer

who sent her flowers?

She doesn't even know I exist, and she never will.

I'll go and tell her.

You keep your mouth shut, Corinne, and mind your own business.

Since when has Timothy Haslam not been my business?

What's over is over. I've told you that a dozen times.

Now, can't you understand it?

I can understand, but will my brother understand?

You know, he can use a knife, too.

That statue of the Madonna up there, how tall is it?

No one's ever seen it close,

except the sisters of St. Peter.

William, I've been thinking over very seriously

what you said about shoelaces the other day.

Can you get up there from here?

Well, they say that many years ago,

before the convent was built,

smugglers used to climb up through a tunnel inside the cave.

Smugglers, huh? Well, I can do anything a smuggler can do.

William!

William!

Pretty smart of those old smugglers.

You know, at high tide, the whole cave is hidden underwater,

and at low tide, it's perfect for any kind of--

sit down, William.

Now, what are you going to do about your future?

My future? I think I'll be a smuggler.

Oh, be serious.

After all, a man must have some sort of career.

Well, I'll have to think that over.

It may take me years and years.

In the meantime, I think I'll just lie back here

and think of all the exciting places

on the other side of that ocean, pacific ocean, and all the other oceans.

Good morning, Emily.

Good morning, miss Marianne.

Good morning, Dolly.

Good morning, miss.

Marianne.

Pleasant dreams?

Very.

Marianne, is it possible to fall in love with a man

you've known only 5 days and seen 3 times?

Yes. I think it is.

That means you're in love with him, too.

No, I'm not,

but I could be in love with the man he could be.

Whichever of us...

Oh, Marianne,

it must never make any difference between us.

Nothing ever could or ever will.

How can William not fall in love with you?

You're so striking, and you have a brain.

William!

Yes, father.

Oh, there you are.

William, did you drink as much as I did last night?

I did, old fellow, but I'm young.

Oh, you ungrateful young cub.

Father, Marguerite's coming.

This sign says, "Dr. Ozanne."

Come this way, please.

Sit there.

Hey, here's a patient for you.

What's the matter?

You get in a little trouble?

Holy Moses! That's bad.

You've lost a lot of blood.

It's a knife wound, huh?

It's a matter for the police.

I'll have to report it.

No.

I always have to report knife wounds--

I don't want you to.

Give me one good reason why I shouldn't.

Because it's a private matter.

A woman, huh?

And the man who carved you up was her husband?

Her brother.

Brother? Very dull and uninteresting.

Well, nothing better for the morning after

than a little surgery.

What's the matter? Do I frighten you that much?

Yeah. You're so blasted clever, you scare me to death.

Good. Perhaps I can scare some sense into you.

Come down to the harbor. I want to show you something.

What a beautiful ship.

What is she, Marianne?

One of the new clippers-- the finest, fastest kind of merchant ship.

You see, William? See the name? Green dolphin.

And you live on the corner of green dolphin street.

That's a sign.

Look how high those masts are.

I wonder how many sails she carries.

Well, there's a foretop and staysail, inner jib,

outer or flying jib, foresail, mainsail, and mizzen,

fitted with topsail, topgallant, and royal.

What may you be doing here,

waking me up out of the first good sleep I was after having for a week?

Devil of a storm it was, too, drove me in here last night.

Where are you from and what cargo?

New Zealand. Cargo of timber.

Well, you've got the most perfect ship I've ever seen.

Captain Dennis O'Hara at your service.

Come aboard and have a bite of breakfast.

That's a Mako shark.

Caught it in the Tasman sea with a boat hook.

Yes, New Zealand's a beautiful country

with forests having a grand smell...

And the tops of the trees 150 feet above your head

and giant ferns below,

ferns reaching above your shoulders.

Giant ferns?

Well, go on, captain O'Hara.

It's the first time I've ever seen William

interested in anything worthwhile.

Yes, a grand land with birds bigger than an ostrich

but not able to fly

by reason of the heavy stomachs they have on them

and mountains with the snow always on their crests.

Slept ashore last night, did you?

Stole the eggs off the natives.

It's meself that's proud of you, Nat.

Doesn't your servant talk English?

Nat? He don't talk sense at all.

Some cannibals in New Zealand toyed with tongue, that's why.

Cannibals?

Chopped off his leg, too. A grand country, New Zealand,

with timber and flax and wonderful pastureland,

all virgin soil and don't belong to no one.

There are places like that in this world,

and I have to live and die here--

you're a man, aren't you?

You don't have to do anything you don't want to do.

Here, me dear, for you.

They're made of a New Zealand stone called tangaway,

and green's your color, I can see.

And for you, son, the Maoris of New Zealand use a knife like thus

for cutting up human flesh.

Oh, captain O'Hara, they're beautiful.

I've got to be going. There's trouble on deck. Finish your breakfast.

What's going on here?

Sneaked aboard, hey? A stowaway.

Who are you? Who are you?!

What difference does it make?

Toss him overboard.

Throw him to the sharks.

My name is Timothy Haslam.

You wouldn't be hiding from the police.

It was a fair fight.

And 'tis plain you killed the other fellow.

I won't lie to you. I did kill him,

but I didn't lift a hand to him until he came at me with a knife.

I believe you.

'Tis well and fairly spoken, and I'll help you.

Besides, I'm a man short in me crew.

Take him below. Hide him in the forecastle.

Come along.

The English law can't reach you in New Zealand.

Ah, look...

Just look at her.

I know what I'm going to do. I've made up my mind.

I'm going to be a sailor on a clipper ship like that one.

Oh, no. Not on a clipper ship. You're going into the Navy.

The Navy?

Uh-huh. To be an officer and a gentleman.

Well, that takes money.

Well, suppose someone found a way

to provide the money and the influence.

Well, that's just talk. Who?

My father.

What? And do you suppose my father would permit that?

I repeat, Marianne.

How could you go aboard a strange ship with that uncouth ragamuffin?

How could you indulge in such a disreputable escapade?

And stop sulking.

Are those your new glasses?

Certainly. Certainly. Certainly.

Well, then, you'd better send them back.

I'm not sulking. I'm smiling humbly.

I am sorry. I apologize.

My behavior was most unladylike. I ask you to forgive me.

Oh. Well, we'll say no more about it.

Thank you, papa.

The matter is closed.

Not quite.

Hmm?

What about William?

William?

He wants to go in the Navy. Not my problem.

Well, you object to William being around,

and if he went off to the Navy, he wouldn't be here, would he?

And when he does come back,

why, then, he will be a gentleman

and wouldn't be so offensive, would he?

Hmm. Bright girl, Sophie.

But, of course, it takes money and influence.

Not my money. Oh, no.

Mama is very fond of William.

Wouldn't you like to treat William

as if he were the son mama has always longed for

but has never had?

Mind you, it's not going to be as easy as you think.

William's father is very proud.

You may have a little difficulty

in getting him to accept the proposition,

but you're so brilliant. You'll do it.

Oh, and mention mama and her affection for William.

I don't need to be told how to carry out a good idea.

Then don't go to see Dr. Ozanne this evening. Tomorrow will do.

I shall go tonight. I shall go now.

Oh, and, uh, take Dr. Ozanne a bottle of Brandy.

I will not.

Our best Brandy,

the kind you smuggle in from France.

Marianne, your father is very good.

He's very easily managed.

Mama.

Emily, put the keys to the wine cellar back in my desk.

Very well, sir.

Marianne, whispering: William.

William, you're practically in the Navy.

"It's midsummer festival day.

"How slowly the years have past since William left for England

"and the royal naval college at Portsmouth.

"And now at last her majesty's ship Orion

"is sailing majestically into our harbor,

and William is aboard."

Eh! There he is, and I'll wring his neck.

2 years without a letter to his own father, the young cub.

Well, old fellow, you look younger than I do.

Oh...

A little digestive trouble.

I may even have to take

some of that horrible stuff I give my patients.

Come in.

Come in, my boy. Come in.

Oh, this note came for you awhile back.

One of the servants brought it from the Patourel house.

"Dear William, I have arranged for you to come to dinner tonight at 7:00

"so that my father may see the results so far of his investment in your future.

I know you won't fail me. Marianne."

Yeah, and you've got to go, too.

I want to go. I want to see...

But my ship sails at high tide tonight.

I know.

But we'll have the whole afternoon together.

What's a few more years? Time passes.

Soon you'll be home to stay.

How'd you know about my ship?

The Patourel girl told me.

Came over here not 10 minutes

after the Orion had dropped anchor.

Which Patourel girl?

Both of them. Both of the pretty little rascals.

They've been popping in and out of here ever since you left.

Bless their hearts. Which one of them is it you're so anxious to see?

The one I've had on my mind ever since...

Ever since I first saw her.

That would be the one

who's so much like her mother

when she was a girl.

Son, if you have it in your heart

to speak to this girl,

remember that fine families

are very particular about a son-in-law.

I know.

I've been worrying about her father.

Well, when you're an established officer in her majesty's Navy,

you'll be a gentleman, even to Mr. Patourel.

Oh, good evening, sir.

Good evening.

In the drawing room, sir.

Thank you.

William. Marguerite.

The others will be down in a moment.

Then I shall make use of that moment.

Marguerite, ever since I last saw you,

I've thought of nothing but you.

I love you.

May I say that?

I love you.

Oh, keep saying it, William,

because I love you, too.

Listen, this must be our secret,

but all the time I'm away from you,

you must keep saying to yourself that I love you.

Mama.

Good evening, William.

It's a pleasure to welcome you to our home.

You're very handsome in your uniform.

Thank you, Mrs. Patourel.

He's a little thin.

That's a life of discipline,

the best thing in the world for a man.

William.

How are you, Marianne?

Very well pleased with you.

So you're off to China tonight?

Oh, how lucky you are, William.

You know, mama, the green dolphin trades on the China coast,

and captain O'Hara says a knowledge of the orient

is most important nowadays.

Yes. I suppose so.

Well, the future commerce of the world

will center in the pacific.

Yes, I think papa will be satisfied with your progress so far.

Oh, excuse me.

What is it, Mrs. Metivier?

Dr. Ozanne. He's just had a seizure.

He's very ill. Mr. William must--

yes. Yes. I'll bring him. Get my cloak.

William...

Your father's just had a sudden attack.

Oh.

My father?

Marguerite, get mama's smelling salts,

and then find a doctor, the nearest.

Come, William.

Steady, William. This may not be serious.

Speak to him, William.

Father...

Can you hear me?

Oh... Are you really here, William?

Of course I'm here. Of course I'm here.

Oh...

Thank you. Thank you for coming, William.

It shows you really love me.

You won't have to stay very long

because I'm...

Not going to last very long.

William...

Yes, father?

Wouldn't it be a joke now

if I didn't die after all?

No. I wouldn't

play that kind of joke on you

because I've always loved you.

Father!

Father.

Oh, come, William.

Please.

William. Listen to me, William.

You don't know how wonderful he was.

Yes, I do. I knew, and I loved him,

but what you must realize

is that tonight he saw you as being wonderful, too.

He saw you as you are now, an officer and a gentleman,

and that's the way he'll remember you.

Oh, what does that matter now?

It matters a great deal because you're going to do things

that will make him very proud of you.

Oh, William. Stay here with him for a little while.

I'll stay with you if you like.

But then, you know, we must get you back to your ship

because it sails at midnight.

I'm not going with the ship.

I won't leave him. I can't.

Yes, you can. You're going to sail away with your ship,

and when you come back next year,

you'll come back with your head high,

full of pride of what you've done with yourself,

full of knowledge that he would have been as proud as you,

and you'll find his grave,

where we'll bury him with honor and with kindness,

and when you kneel by his grave,

then you can weep from a brave heart

and respect yourself as well as him.

Oh, William.

There will be flowers on his grave next year.

There will always be flowers on his grave.

Well, Ozanne, there's China. Take it all in.

Yes, sir.

But be back on board by midnight.

By all means, sir.

All I'm looking forward to is our return home.

You wish to buy something?

Yes, please. I'd like something for a young lady.

Certainly.

Why, you speak English perfectly.

Yes. My father was an Englishman.

This is a Chinese charm necklace...

To be given to the one whom you love.

Oh, yes. That's just what I wanted. How much is it?

4 pieces of silver, Chinese money.

I haven't any Chinese money. Will you take English?

One English gold sovereign.

Oh.

Oh, could I write a letter?

Of course. Over there.

"Dear Marguerite,

"this necklace will say I have always loved you.

"Wait for me. When I come home,

I will ask your father for your hand in marriage."

And when will you be home?

Not for another 2 years.

There is an English clipper ship in the harbor.

It will be home in 6 months.

Thank you very much.

You, there. Aye, aye, sir.

There's a clipper ship in port sailing for home.

Put this package and letter on board.

I think this should cover the cost.

Right, sir.

You will drink a little rice wine.

Where is this place?

Where is this place?!

Oh.

What's the matter, mate?

Where's the Orion?

The Orion, man, where is she?

The Orion, now, Matey, she sailed at midnight.

Far as you're concerned, she's halfway to Calcutta.

Oh-ho, a stowaway. Drunk and disorderly, too.

What the devil are ye? Nat! Nat!

Don't you remember me, captain O'Hara? St. Pierre.

Let's have a look at you.

Oh, that young fellow.

What are you doing here, son?

What's the trouble? Huh? Huh?

I had shore leave.

Something happened.

My ship sailed.

Women and rum.

Yes, sir.

What ship?

The Orion.

The Navy? You young fool!

Alright, Nat.

If you'd gone straight to her majesty's consul

and made a clean breast of it...

But, no. Instead of that, you're now a deserter.

A fine mess you made of your life.

Where are we bound, captain O'Hara?

New Zealand, and you're lucky.

There you'll be safe from the law.

Fine young muscles like yours

will be at a premium among the settlers.

William!

Parson and Mrs. Kelly. William Ozanne.

How do you do?

Well, son, I'm ready to up-anchor and leave Wellington,

which means you're through with the green dolphin,

but parson Kelly and his wife will take you in.

You can help in the mission school.

I don't like to impose on a parson.

Who else am I to impose you on but a parson?

A parson can't refuse you bed and victuals,

as expressly provided in the book of Matthew.

Isn't that so, parson?

Quite so.

Thank you, parson.

Ma'am.

Keep a good heart, son.

Don't fret over past mistakes, and remember,

'tis better to keep away from the liquor today

than to waste tomorrow counting yesterday's empty bottles.

Thank you for everything, captain O'Hara.

If you ever get back to St. Pierre, you won't tell anybody--

have no fear of that, son, and god bless you. Shove off, lad.

Earthquake.

That's right, chum. It was an earthquake.

That's right.

Whiskey.

You're a homey, right?

Huh?

New to this country.

Oh, just landed, sir.

Got a job?

Yes, I've got a job--

teaching the kiddies at the mission school.

Not your sort of work, huh?

What do you think?

I've got a place up north in the back blocks

getting out curry-- that's its big tree timber.

You can pitch in and join me if you like.

But why? You don't know anything about me.

I know as much about you

as your father knew about me back in St. Pierre

when he patched up this arm without telling the police.

I remember. I thought you looked familiar.

You killed a man and got away.

Keep your mouth shut.

And your name's Haslam.

My name's Tyharuru.

The Maoris gave it to me.

That's all you need to know about me.

Well, the same applies to me.

Alright.

I'll work you harder

than you've ever been worked before in your life,

and you'll have to be ready for trouble

because there will be a war between the natives--the Maoris--

and the colonials before long.

Make up your mind.

If you go with me, you can forget that girl at home.

Who told you about a girl?

A mutual friend-- captain O'Hara.

Tell me something, Ozanne... Which of the two sisters was it?

None of your blasted business...

Sir.

Well, there it is, Ozanne.

The whole valley?

Well, we live, uh--

you see the lake?

We live on the banks of the river 10 miles upstream from there

without benefit of clergy or doctors.

Very comforting.

The whole valley is a Maori stronghold,

but you'll find our settlement reasonably comfortable and safe.

Are those friendly Maoris?

Well, they're my friends. Perhaps they'll be yours

if you treat them courteously and keep your word,

never show fear before them.

But they're a dangerous and strange people.

I've seen some extraordinary exhibitions

of their ability to predict the future.

Jacky-Poto and Kapua-Manga.

Have a look at that river, Ozanne.

Perhaps someday that water will travel halfway around the world

and splash on the beach at St. Pierre.

Marguerite, I want you

to go down to the drapers and match this silk for me.

Marguerite, I...

What are you hiding from me, Marguerite?

It's a secret, mama.

Is it a secret that has anything to do

with your not marrying any one of those half-dozen young men?

My dear, I would never insist upon your marrying anyone,

but you have your life to live.

I have a life, mama,

in my thoughts and my dreams.

Oh, Marguerite.

Marianne. Home, Edward.

Yes, sir.

Papa.

Huh?

I believe William Ozanne is dead.

No. I question that. Only the good die young.

No. He's dead.

Only that would account for his not writing once

since he sailed away on the Orion.

Oh, I don't know.

If he were alive, nothing could have kept him from writing to...

To you in common gratitude.

Well, that's true.

Or to me in friendship

or to Marguerite, of whom he was once very fond...

In a childish way.

Oh.

No, papa. William is dead.

Sophie, come quick! She's fainted.

What? Mrs. Metivier, Marguerite's fainted.

Get my smelling salts, cold water, and towels.

Feather duster's what you need.

I tell you, Marianne's fainted. Sophie, where are you?

Marianne's fainted? I don't believe it.

Neither do I, but your father hasn't lied to me for 30 years.

Let's go and see.

I've asked your mother to come down.

Marianne, what is it?

A little cordial, dear.

No, no, no. Some smelling salts.

No. Cognac would be better, dear.

Quick. Look. There. There.

Oh. Ah. Ah. There.

But who--

ma'am, it was like this--

I was waiting here for Mr. Patourel when the two of them came in,

and all I said was, "here's a letter for you, Mr. Patourel,

which I bring you from William Ozanne in New Zealand,"

and then...

Now, look, this one's fainted.

No. This one hasn't fainted.

No. This one hasn't fainted. This one's praying.

Then I'll be going.

But tell me about William.

What is he doing in New Zealand?

Isn't he still in the Navy?

Due to an unfortunate incident,

the lad severed his connection.

A good day to you all.

Marianne, the letter is addressed to me.

Suppose I read it aloud, dear.

I will not be bullied in my own household.

"Dear sir, it is a long time

"since I've had the pleasure of addressing you.

"Much has happened, and I now feel

I have earned the privilege of writing."

The young blackguard left the Navy... A deserter, probably.

After all the money I spent on him.

Mama, go on with the letter.

"I've been in the lumber business for over 2 years,

"and I can say I am becoming a fairly successful businessman.

"My partner is a man of great ability,

"and we have developed our little settlement

into a garden spot with a comfortable dwelling..."

What's been going on out there?

Has that fortune-telling medicine man been reading tea leaves again?

He says that a letter you wrote

was delivered today on the other side of the world.

How could he know that?

I personally gave it to captain O'Hara myself months ago.

I didn't even...

Hey, hold on. Wait a minute.

It was about a young woman, wasn't it?

That's my own private affair.

Put down that drink.

Patourel girl?

Alright.

I was drunk.

I was in Wellington, alone and miserable.

Alright. I was drunk.

Never had the courage if I hadn't been drunk

to ask a wonderful girl like that to come all the way out here.

Which girl?

After all they did for me,

I write and offer her my hand in marriage,

a life like this.

Which girl, I said?

Marguerite, of course.

"I do not know what life has brought you and your good wife,

"and as for your lovely daughters, they may have married,

yet I cannot but hope that..."

Oh, well, speak up. What does the young blackguard want?

"I cannot but hope that your daughter Marianne is still unmarried,

"that you would consider

"permitting her to live in such a rough but glorious country

as my wife."

As his wife? Marianne?

The confounded cheek of it.

The outrageous, overwhelming conceit of a fool.

Sophie, here, write my dictation.

Here. Here's pen, ink, paper.

Sit down here. Now, write. Mr. William Ozanne.

Father, you act as though

I've been insulted instead of honored by a marriage proposal.

No daughter of mine--

I'm old enough to marry without your consent,

and that is exactly what I intend to do.

Of course you are.

You're unjust to William. If he was foolish in the past,

he's now written you a fine and straightforward letter.

My daughter go and live

among a lot of man-eating savages?

She's always wanted to marry William.

She'll never marry anyone else...

Will you, Marianne?

No.

And I'm going to marry William!

Everybody's insane here except me.

Here. Write a letter.

"Mr. William Ozanne. Sir--

"you may return here, and if at that time,

"Marianne still desires to marry you,

"I will permit the banns to be published,

"and in due course and in the presence of her family

and in her own church--"

I don't intend to wait for any letter.

When does the green dolphin sail?

On the 31st.

And I forbid you--

then I'm going on the 31st.

I forbid it!

O eternal lord god,

who alone spreadest out the heavens

and rulest the raging of the sea,

receive into thy almighty protection

the persons of us, thy servants,

and the ship in which we serve.

Amen.

Look alive, ye bat-eyed nincompoop!

Is it land, or is it a cloud?

Land ho!

Land off the starboard bow!

I'll take her in with 4 topsails, anchor, and jib.

Aye, aye, sir.

Serve the royals together!

Come on, you son of a sea cook, get up there!

Now hear me closely.

William Ozanne has no reason

to expect you on this ship,

so when we tie up at Wellington,

you can shut yourself up in your cabin,

and 3 days later, we'll be on our way again.

You don't want me to marry William Ozanne?

The letter I gave your father

was handed to me by a bleary-eyed William Ozanne,

just out of a stinking saloon.

Surely it was written more in whiskey than in ink.

Had I known it was a proposal of marriage to you,

I'd have torn it to bits and flung it to the seven winds.

So help me, I would!

If William were a fine, strong character,

what would he need me for?

The very reason that he sent for me

is because he knows that I can save him from himself.

Oh, captain O'Hara, I've loved you

since that first day I came aboard the green dolphin,

but there isn't anything that you can say to change me.

I'll make a fine man of William.

I will. I will!

Drink up, me lads.

The green dolphin's pulling in if you wants to meet her.

That proves no second sight.

Natives could have sighted the ship rounding the three kings

and sent word overland.

Now if she brings a letter from Marguerite,

that's different.

Oh, come on. Let's see.

Get a man on the bowline.

A man on bowline.

Oh, look.

Look there.

Start the spring easy.

Aye, aye, sir.

It can't be.

She came!

It's Marguerite!

Look again!

It's Marianne.

You stupid fool!

Did you put the wrong name in that drunken letter?

Even if I did, why should Marianne come?

Did Marianne ever show any signs of being in love with you?

I think perhaps she did.

Then go on. Wave to her.

Keep waving. Wave your arm off!

I can't marry her. I'm not in love with her.

Are you going to send a girl like that back home,

turned down by a drunken young jackass,

too tipsy to remember the right name of the girl he loved?

No. You won't do that.

I might do it in the name of truth and common sense,

but you haven't got either the strength or the cruelty.

Now, listen.

Go to her. Put your arms around her.

Make her feel that you want her

and don't ever let down.

And remember-- her name is Marianne.

I hate what I'm going to do, but I'll do it.

I'll marry her, just as my father married--

out of pity.

And don't worry. I'll go through with it.

Good luck, ma'am. Thank you.

Congratulations, sir.

Mr. Morgan, all hands splice the main brace.

And a double noggin to every one of ye!

Oh, thank you, captain O'Hara.

Thank you for my beautiful wedding.

Now with certain documents to be signed,

and since 'tis sailing I am with the sunrise tide,

would you mind lending me

your new husband for a trice?

Take him, captain.

With all my worldly goods I him endow.

Ha ha ha!

I seem to recall the best man didn't kiss the bride.

You don't like me, do you?

Please, Mrs. Ozanne. It's not that.

I'm... I'm anxious about you.

Anxious?

I've been very close to your husband for several years now,

and he has changed since you knew him.

Mr. Haslam, I'm quite capable of handling my own family.

I merely suggest for both your sakes

that... You be patient with him.

Oh, I'll be patient.

I have no idea that my husband loves me to distraction.

Actually, he's never known what real love is,

and I did not travel halfway around the world

expecting any miracle to have improved him.

Believe me, I--I only want to help you.

You can... Now.

Is there any reason why we cannot leave

for the settlement at once instead of tomorrow?

You see, I refuse to spend my wedding night anywhere

except in the home my husband has provided for me.

Ha ha ha!

Oh, put it in there.

And as for father-- poor darling--

he's blind as a bat.

Here. In the cupboard.

But, of course, that's been coming on for so long

that by now he hardly knows whether he can see anything or not.

Marguerite-- Is she well?

A good deal changed from the young girl you remember...

And like so many beautiful women,

she's become spiritually lazy.

She hasn't-- She hasn't married?

Well, she's had many offers,

but I don't believe she's been able to summon the necessary emotion.

Oh, Hine-Moa, in the bedroom, please.

Um, Mr. Haslam...

Whose idea was it, shipping your timber overland on those wagons?

Why, Ty's.

It's the only way to ship timber.

Don't you know that it is always cheaper

to transport bulky goods by water?

Excuse me.

Now, look here, Marianne.

Ty knows the timber business.

And I know the shipping business. Sit down, Mr. Haslam.

Thank you.

Oh, that will be all, Hine-Moa. Thank you.

Aye.

You should build barges, large ones.

Float your timber to the sea down that river.

From there you can ship it to anyplace in the world.

Yes. I think that that's quite possible.

Well, it will cut your delivery costs by two-thirds.

I believe that it would.

Now, Mrs. Ozanne, I'm sure that you'll excuse me.

Yes, of course, Mr. Haslam.

This is my wedding night.

Miss Marguerite,

this one's in Mr. Ozanne's handwriting.

It must be important.

Mrs. Metivier, I want you.

My daughter...

Marguerite... I've something to say.

Mostly, Octavius, my dear, for you.

I want Marguerite to hear it, too.

Don't talk, Sophie dear.

When I married you, Octavius,

I did not love you.

The marriage was forced on me by my parents...

Against my will.

Oh, mama.

I was in love with another man.

No.

I came to you, Octavius, with a broken heart,

hating you.

Shh.

But from the very beginning, you were kind to me,

thoughtful, generous...

And soon I began to realize

that your love was bigger than anything I had ever felt.

I was humble and frightened in its presence,

but still I did not love you.

My dear, my dear.

There's no need to talk, no need to tell.

But as the years went on,

something began to grow in my heart--

at first, respect...

Then gratitude.

And the dashing young prince I'd once loved...

Faded from my dreams,

and, suddenly...

Before my eyes... You, Octavius--

feeble-sighted, without much hair,

no longer young...

But more splendid than any dream any girl ever had.

Do you know what I'm saying?

Do you, Marguerite?

Yes.

Yes, I'm trying to.

I've come to love your father

with a love so deep, so great...

That nothing on earth can compare with it.

Mama...

I know what you mean.

Apply it to your own life,

to your own lost love, my dear child.

And now, Octavius...

My dear one, I've always known all about it.

Octavius. Yes.

Even before I married you.

My eyes were quite good then.

Remember?

So it was impossible for me to mistake the way you looked

when his name was mentioned.

Yes, Marguerite...

I've always known your mother's beautiful and honorable secret.

That's why I always did what I could for William.

William? Yes.

Then...

I was in love with William's father,

and you...

You knew always.

If I had thought that Edmond Ozanne could make you happy,

I would never have married you.

But I didn't believe in his love,

and I did believe in mine.

I believed I'd be a better husband,

a better father.

Octavius...

You are wonderful.

And, Sophie, I knew...

Even though you never told me before...

Just when you began to love me.

Oh, but, Sophie...

Sophie...

Sophie... I'm so proud...

And happy...

That you did tell me at last.

Oh, papa.

Leave me alone with her, dear.

Leave us together, Marguerite.

Please, little one.

Come on. Read your letter.

Maybe it will help.

No. You read it to me, please.

"My dear sister-in-law, I hasten to write you

"that Marianne will go to Wellington soon,

"where she will have the best of care

"for the arrival of our child.

Hoping this finds you--"

my daughter.

May I go to my father now?

Your father does not need you now.

Quietly...

He has joined your mother.

God rest his soul.

Reverend mother! Reverend mother!

Somebody's knocking on the old door.

It must be Saint Peter!

Saint Peter?

Saint Peter. Come. You can hear him yourself!

Listen.

I hear nothing.

But I heard Saint Peter knocking.

Please, may I unlock the door?

It is unlocked.

I unlocked it myself, 40 years ago.

Open it if you wish.

Pick her up. Bring her to my room.

Thank you, reverend mother. Thank you.

My poor, dear child.

Help me, help me. I'm all alone now.

I'll try, my child.

There's no one to turn to.

I'm completely lost.

I... I can't think.

It's my mind.

I--it can't think.

I can't think.

Others have passed through the same dark way.

There's no way for me to live.

You'll find a way.

Child, your tragedy is not unique in human history.

I needed my father and mother because...

Because the man I love turned away from me.

And now because your parents have gone,

because your earthly lover has failed you,

you imagine that god has also withdrawn his presence?

Yes.

The way in which the human race

perpetually insults the almighty god

is quite deplorable.

Come. Let's see if you can stand up.

Oh, yes, I can stand. I can walk. I can run.

And if I could fly, it wouldn't help.

Let us see if you can pray.

Thank you, reverend mother.

Oh, Marguerite.

Marguerite.

I have a little book here.

I read it myself when I was about your age.

Read it.

Then we may talk again.

That's a nice job of loading, William.

Cleverly planned.

Yeah. My wife's idea.

Because it's her idea, not yours,

I suppose the two of you sat up all night arguing about it?

Ty, I promised you I'd stick to my bargain,

but I didn't agree to like it.

I want to see her. Tell her.

Good.

Yes, Mr. Haslam.

You've come to apologize for William again.

No.

I brought you a gift.

Oh, thank you, Mr. Haslam.

Thank you.

Why do you dislike me so much?

Because you have too much influence with William.

I've been able to influence William on only one thing:

Not to give up when he takes on a job.

Alright. I failed in my marriage,

and you think I'm making you the scapegoat for my failure.

Your marriage is not a failure.

Huh! My husband hates me.

If I told you that hatred

was only the reverse side of love,

you'd really kill me, as usual.

It's not true.

You can no more separate love from hatred

than you can separate the 2 sides of a coin.

To possess one is to possess the other.

But I don't want scientific explanations.

What do you want?

What do I want?

I love my husband to the point of agony,

and yet there's neither brightness nor warmth in our lives.

What do I want?

Tell me, Mr. Haslam...

Have I been completely wrong in my handling of William?

Or isn't it true that he is infinitely a finer and better person?

That's very true. He has improved.

But you think he would be happier

if I were more submissive and helpless.

It would be a strange way

to win a husband away from his weaknesses,

by developing weaknesses of my own.

Still, I...

Marianne!

Marianne!

William.

About last night--

I'm sorry, Marianne.

William, have I been a bad influence on you?

No man could have a better wife.

Perhaps... Perhaps the boy will help when he comes.

You're sure it's going to be a boy?

I believe you would rather have a girl,

but it's going to be a boy. I know it.

Oh, William...

Please let Mr. Haslam take the barges this time.

Stay here with me.

Cutting the timber is Ty's job.

Taking it to market is mine.

You know the green dolphin

will be waiting at the sea coast for this timber,

and captain O'Hara's expecting me.

I can't let him down.

Oh, William. William, what's happened to us?

Even when we're in each other's arms,

there always seems to be a thousand miles between us.

Oh, look, Marianne.

I've been a clumsy fool,

and I've made you wretched.

If you'll forgive me, I promise I'll try to do better.

Oh, yes, yes, William.

Good-bye, Marianne.

So we're left alone together.

Not for the first time.

As a rule, I see very little of you on these occasions.

Perhaps this time, I shall see more.

Mr. Haslam, will you please make those natives stop singing?

No. That's the chant of the earthquake god.

The natives believe there's to be an earthquake.

Oh, William doesn't believe it, and I imagine you don't believe it,

but when your house starts shaking,

stand in the nearest doorway and yell for me.

Hine-Moa.

The men have stopped working.

Go and see what's happened.

Aah!

Aah!

No!

Aah!

Aah!

Aah!

Aah!

Aah!

Hine-Moa, tear these things up. I'll need bandages.

Right.

We should see the coast around the next bend.

Big sea.

Yes.

My son...

I shall lose my son.

You'll have your son.

No. No, it's too soon.

Oh, Ty, get a doctor.

This isn't a country where a doctor lives on the next street.

Oh, my son. I...

I thought at least I would have...

Marianne, listen to me.

You'll have your child. I know what's to be done.

Oh, no. No!

You've got to trust me.

Remember, this is the sort of thing that happens to women

who choose to live in the back blocks.

And remember, you chose it.

Oh, I trust you.

I will try to give as...

As little trouble as possible.

Hine-Moa.

Hine-Moa!

Oh!

Here you are. The first news from the back blocks--

horrible disaster. The green dolphin is missing.

Here you are. First news from the back blocks--

horrible disaster. The green dolphin is missing.

After 3 weeks, only meager details.

The worst catastrophe in New Zealand history.

Exquisite.

Now you look a bit more like your old self.

This is no time for compliments, Mr. Haslam.

Tell me, is there any definite news of William?

Yes. This time, there is definite news.

Your husband is alive. He's quite safe.

The barges were wrecked in a tidal wave,

but he was able to make his way into Wellington.

You're not lying?

You swear you're telling the truth-- William is alright?

I give you my word, but now be calm.

Oh, but I am calm.

I have complete control of myself.

My mental and physical condition is remarkable, Mr. Haslam.

It's no good, Marianne.

Now, face the situation.

We can't go back to where we were.

Why not be friends?

I'm not aware we're not friends.

William!

Poor Marianne.

What a terrible time you've had.

But, William, where have you--

it was so many days before I knew

that anyone here was alive.

I'm in such a filthy state.

I should have washed and changed,

but I was--

but you were so anxious to see your child.

Well, William, there she is.

She.

She?! Is it a girl?

Yes. I'm afraid it is.

Why wasn't I told? A girl!

I had no idea a daughter would mean so much to you.

You can tell she's going to be fair-haired.

Just look at those eyes.

Yes. I've named her Marguerite Veronica.

But we'll call her Veronica.

Time baby bath.

You may take her, Hine-Moa.

What's wrong, William?

Marianne...

Captain O'Hara's dead.

Dead?

He drowned.

And the green dolphin?

That's gone, too.

Well, tell me.

The green dolphin was wrecked by the tidal wave.

I swam out with a rope.

Well, how dared you?

You might have been drowned.

You should have thought of your wife and child.

Captain O'Hara insisted on being the last ashore.

He stood on the quarterdeck, bellowing orders.

Then, suddenly, before you could say "Jack Robinson,"

the green dolphin heeled over and was gone

and him with it.

I swam out again.

I couldn't save him,

but I think he knows I tried.

Then you've paid your debt to him,

and I'm proud of you, William.

Captain O'Hara... Green dolphin...

Our last tie with home... Gone.

Everything else is gone, too, Marianne:

Years of hard work destroyed in a single day.

We'll begin again.

We'll begin again, William,

and we'll do better.

We certainly will.

Tyharuru.

William...

Tell me, do you think this is reassuring enough?

"My dear Marguerite, do not worry about the Maori war.

"True, it still goes on up-- up north...

"Because the natives who want to sell their land to the white settlers

"are now killing the Maoris who don't want to sell.

"But the new governor expects to work out a treaty of peace,

which is probably accomplished by now."

Aren't you a bit too optimistic, even for Marguerite?

Peace can be arranged.

I could do it if I were the governor.

Yeah. You probably could.

Hello there!

Uncle Ty! Uncle Ty!

Uncle Ty! Uncle Ty!

Well, you didn't come in to see me today.

I've got some news for you.

Let's go inside.

Hine-Moa...

Good.

Heavy fighting's broken out again.

Marianne and Veronica must leave for Wellington at once.

But the peace terms. Why?

The governor's blundered badly.

Well, we have men and guns. We will fight.

You must take Veronica to Wellington.

We'll build a stockade around the house.

And turn this place into a fort?

Certainly.

That would be the worst possible mistake.

It would show our friendly Maoris we don't trust them.

Ty's right. Oh, nonsense.

William, you argue with your wife.

She never would listen to me.

You must take Veronica to Wellington. Don't you see that?

I see nothing of the sort. Veronica and I stay here.

Stop and think, Ty, and you'll realize that I'm right.

Veronica and I are far more likely to be murdered

on a long journey to Wellington than if we stay here well-protected.

Yeah. There's something to that, Ty.

As always, I bow to your clever reasoning.

May I do anything for you in Wellington?

Are you going to Wellington?

Yes, I am.

William, may I see you outside for a moment, please?

Marianne, please.

What is all this?

Are you trying to get rid of me?

Goodnight, daddy.

Goodnight, sweetheart.

Goodnight, mama.

Goodnight, dear.

Goodnight, Hine-Moa.

Well, pray for the best.

Ty's gone, and without him,

we'd never dare make the trip to Wellington.

Then get out every man you have

and start building that stockade.

Come, Veronica. Your dinner.

Come, dear.

Veronica...

Veronica, dear. Come. You must wake up.

Come, shh.

No, no, no. There, there.

Shh.

Shh.

Ohh...

Marianne!

Can you forgive me, William?

It was all my fault.

I wouldn't go to Wellington.

I made you build that stupid stockade.

No, you didn't make me. You honestly convinced me.

So don't blame yourself only.

We're both guilty.

What's the matter, daddy?

It's alright. Shh.

Uncle Ty!

Well, thank heavens you're alright!

Ty, what happened?

Be quiet and listen. When I went to Wellington for help,

I expected this invasion from the northern tribe.

Yeah, but our own Maoris turned on us.

And for good reason. But now that's our chance.

Our own Maoris are out there among the others,

and they're still my friends.

They were strong enough to get me in here.

Oh, William, then everything will be alright.

Now, whether they'll have the influence to get us out,

I don't know.

They're in council now. That's why this quiet.

Ty, what if they won't?

That's a chance we'll have to take.

Chance? But Veronica!

Bramsbottom and hardcastle at brother's field.

179 pounds, 11 and threepence.

They're alright. That's a good account.

Well, how do we stand financially?

Well, I should say we had enough capital in the bank

to start ourselves another future.

Well, how about Caldwell Savell and company?

148 pounds, 4 and eightpence halfpenny.

No. We can forget that one.

Oh.

You know, I've been thinking about our future.

The Maori war is getting worse.

I think it would be best if, well, if we were to leave here and go south.

What? South island?

I've been thinking, I said.

I haven't decided. Let's talk it over.

John Martin...

What are the timber prospects in south island?

Bad.

Ah, but there's a great future for sheep farming.

Sheep?!

What exactly do you got in mind, Marianne?

Sell our land at the settlement and take ship to south island,

find some good pastureland,

spend our capital on it, hire expert labor.

Soon there'll be nothing about sheep we won't know.

But why sheep?

I know timber. I love it.

Why can't we stick to timber?

Because there's a bigger future in wool.

How do you know that?

Because I've an instinct for these things.

I've an instinct for making money.

Personally, I can never think of sheep

without connecting them with job in the Bible.

One time, job lost all his sheep and had boils.

That was just one bad year.

How much of this is your business instinct

and how much the safety of Veronica?

It's mostly for the child's sake.

Ever since this Maori trouble,

she's been having dreadful nightmares.

You know that, William.

She has a morbid curiosity now about fighting and soldiers.

I want to take her where there is no fighting.

Yes, Ty. It's uncanny the way you always bring the hammer down on the nail.

It's really for Veronica's sake.

Well?

Well, William?

Well, if it's for Veronica's good that we should go south,

then we go south.

Then here's to the flocks and herds of job...

And no boils.

Ha ha! Ha ha!

We'll go as soon as possible.

There's a great suffering among my Maori friends

caused by the colonials.

They need help.

I'm going back to them with medical supplies.

Ty, we cannot wait indefinitely--

I'll not prevent you from leaving whenever you like,

and all my best wishes will go with you.

But you're our partner.

Surely you'll come with us.

You don't know me very well, Marianne.

I find very little value in life

aside from my personal independence.

That you and William should join me in my lumber business,

that was one thing.

That I should follow along at the tail end

of your biblical migration like a tame tabby cat,

that is another.

There you are, darling.

Say good-bye to uncle Ty, Veronica.

I'll go aboard and see about the luggage.

Oh, and, Marianne, try not to fight with Ty your last 5 minutes together.

I'll try.

Come along, sweetheart.

Are you really hurt that I'm not coming with you?

Yes, I am.

I thought you had a real affection

for William and Veronica.

I have...

And for you.

Then why not come with us?

The reason I gave.

You spoke of trailing after us.

You'd be what you've always been:

The central figure in the picture.

I thought Marianne Ozanne must always be that.

No. I know myself better than I used to.

I'm sure.

I really don't know how I shall manage without you.

I doubt it.

Oh, and don't talk of losing your independence.

A man in love has no independence worth mentioning.

Yes, Marianne, I love you.

I have for years.

You certainly didn't love me

when I first came out here.

Long before that.

At home, on the island,

when you were a little girl in your teens,

I used to worship you from a distance.

On the island?

William never told me you came from St. Pierre.

It's no coincidence.

Captain O'Hara brought us to the same place for similar reasons.

I can never go home either.

I began by loving you as a child.

I love your faults as well as your virtues.

Have I still so many faults?

At least I'm not proud now, am I?

No, you're not.

And I love you for that, too,

because I think I had something to do with it.

Yes, you did...

A great deal.

Everything.

And that's why you love me.

Though you've hated me, too.

Remember what I said

that you can no more separate love from hatred

than you can separate the 2 sides of a coin?

Well, you hated me

because I saw too much of your real self.

Then I found when you were with me,

everything was alright.

You learned humility from me,

and you love me, don't you?

Ty, I love William with every fiber of my being,

but I love you, too,

for the qualities you have

are the ones I've tried to develop in him.

Yes, Ty, I love you,

but I belong to William.

You still believe that?

But it's true.

William's love is all I've ever wanted.

That's why I'm not going with you.

You'll have more chance of getting what you want

if he has no one to turn to but you.

But I have his love.

Don't be too sure.

This newfound humility of yours only goes skin-deep.

You have made progress,

but your battle isn't won yet.

Good-bye, Marianne.

I won't forget you...

Ever.

If I believed in souls,

I'd say that yours and mine are a very long acquaintance.

Veronica's in the cabin.

Good-bye, William.

You're glad to get rid of a couple of troublemakers, eh?

I'd not have missed these years for anything.

Not always happy-- all those rows and arguments.

I wonder how you stood it.

Well, the adjustments interested me.

Hmm.

You've made a good job of Marianne.

Oh, most people, including Marianne,

would say she'd made a good job of me.

Only a fool could have made that blunder that you did,

but only a very fine man

could have saved her from disaster.

Disa--ha ha! Oh, Marianne?

If you hadn't turned your life into a magnificent lie,

she'd have certainly foundered.

And if you hadn't made that idiotic mistake in a girl's name,

I'd never have known her.

Ready, Mr. Ozanne.

We're about to cast off, sir.

Well...

Reverend mother.

What is it, sister Angelique?

A lady to see you, reverend mother.

She sends you this little book.

Sit down, Marguerite.

It's a long time.

You read it?

Over and over,

to see if there isn't some way for me to live.

I seem to have given up all my girlhood friends.

I've dropped out of all life.

I belong to nothing or nobody.

And yet you do not look so very unhappy.

I'm not unhappy.

I'm only... Lost,

but I want to feel once again

that I'm following some pattern of life.

Sometime, god permits deep disappointment to enter our lives

in order to open up our eyes to what he wants us to do.

And so great is his magnanimity

that if we come at last to his feet,

I think he cares little how we came.

Am I good enough, reverend mother?

Ask yourself, my daughter.

Keep asking yourself.

Uh, this the residence of Mrs. William Ozanne?

Yes.

With the compliments of captain Faucett

from her majesty's ship Brighton.

What you doing tonight?

What sauce! I wouldn't go out with you.

Besides, we got a party on.

Thank you.

Listen, mama. Mr. Anderson is making a speech.

Yes, dear.

Gentlemen, 2 years ago,

this group sponsored the organization of a steamship company.

Aye... And look what the shares are quoted at today.

Of course, the original idea came from...

Mr. William Ozanne.

You know...

I'm thinking he must have Scottish antecedents.

Gentlemen...

I give you the health of the most popular man in Dunedin:

Mr. William Ozanne.

To William Ozanne.

Thank you, gentlemen.

I think your toast might well be to New Zealand

or to the steamship itself,

which as Mr. Anderson so candidly puts,

has done so much good for all of us.

But, certainly, instead of me,

I think your toast should have been given to my wife

because in New Zealand or Timbuktu,

with sheep, wool, steam, or with timber,

any man influenced by such a woman...

Must succeed.

It is to her that I owe whatever small accomplishments I've made.

There, Veronica. You've heard your father's speech.

Now you must go to bed. Come along.

How was the party?

Beautiful. Weren't you listening?

Yes.

All those things you said about me,

they made me blush.

Oh, but they were true.

Ah, but you were generous, far too generous.

Uh, William...

There's something I want to talk to you about.

Mm-hmm.

Let's sell out here and go home

to our real home-- St. Pierre.

Back to St. Pierre? Why?

Because of... Of Marguerite.

Marguerite.

But she's going to become a nun.

But she's still a novice,

and we can see her before she takes her final vows.

But why?

Here we have everything--

the finest house in Dunedin,

and--and--

but, William, this isn't really our home.

There's that beautiful house in St. Pierre,

empty, waiting for us.

Then there's the family business

that you could now run most efficiently.

But I can't go back.

There's a little matter of desertion

from her majesty's Navy.

Come here.

There.

It's taken me more than a year to arrange that.

"After due consideration, it has been decided

"that William Ozanne is to be allowed to resign honorably

"from the royal Navy,

"and that in regard to the charges of desertion,

"it has been instead officially pronounced

involuntary absence from duty."

Think what home will mean to Veronica,

the opportunities she can have.

But mostly, William, it's Marguerite,

my own sister.

You never knew what it cost me to leave my home,

come out to this new country to marry you.

I want to go home, William.

I do so want to go home.

May I look now?

No, not yet.

Now?

N-n-n-now!

That's where mama was born.

But how will father Christmas know

we've moved from New Zealand?

Oh, he has ways of finding out.

Oh!

Miss Marianne!

God loves us! Oh!

Oh, no, no, no.

Mrs. Metivier, no.

Do you think you could find a Dolly

at grandpa's office?

I wouldn't be at all surprised.

Good-bye, sweetheart.

Good-bye.

Papa's gone.

4 sheets, 12 pillowslips, embroidered.

Here, Veronica.

Let's see. You may help mama.

Take this into your bedroom.

Oh, and put it on the bed, dear.

4 linen sheets.

Oh, there's a tear in this one.

Very well put it to one side.

What about my letter?

Oh, the tide was out, and the young man's already back.

The young man delivered your letter to the mother superior

and will reach miss Marguerite at once.

Thank you. Oh!

What is it, dear?

Look, mama.

Well, where did you find it?

In this box.

Oh?

May I wear it? May I?

Yes, dear.

Oh, look, Mrs. Ozanne.

I found these 2 embroidered pillowcases.

I suppose you used these when you were children.

This one would come in very well for Veronica.

After all, her name's Marguerite.

Oh, good evening, Mrs. Metivier.

Where's Mrs. Ozanne?

In her room.

She's not feeling well, sir.

Too much unpacking to my way of thinking, sir.

Hello, my dear.

Tired yourself out, did you?

I'm tired, too.

Your father's business is quite a terrifying institution.

What's the matter, Marianne?

Is it-- Is it Marguerite?

Have you heard from her?

Yes, I've heard from Marguerite.

Tomorrow she is to become a nun.

It would seem we arrived just in time.

I found this today.

This was written a long time ago, Marianne.

Nevertheless, you loved Marguerite. You loved her.

But that's all past now.

But when you wrote my father, you lied.

You asked for my hand in marriage.

I didn't lie.

Listen to me, Marianne. I love you more--

listen to more lies?

You never loved me.

You loved her, but you sent for me. Why?

It wasn't a lie. It was only--

why did you send for me?

I'll tell you, Marianne.

Now I must tell you.

I never wanted you to know. I never thought you'd find out.

But now...

What did you never want me to find out?

That I accidentally wrote your name instead of Marguerite's

in the letter to your father.

You accidentally wrote my name?

And our whole marriage has just been...

A slip of the pen?

Marianne...

Does Marguerite know of... Of your slip of the pen?

No. Absolutely not.

I never even so much as hinted anything.

Oh, please believe me, Marianne.

I never told a living soul.

Oh, that's not quite true.

I told Tyharuru.

Oh, I had to tell him.

Tyharuru knew?

He knew that you hated me.

I thought I'd reached

the lowest depths of degradation,

but I didn't expect this.

So Ty knew.

Of course he knew.

Now I understand everything.

Why, you would never have married me

if he hadn't forced you into it,

would you, William?

Oh, William...

William, don't ever, ever speak to me again.

Good morning, Mrs. Metivier.

Has Mrs. Ozanne come downstairs yet?

She left the house an hour ago, sir.

Miss Marguerite takes her vows to the church today.

Had you forgotten, sir?

Thank you.

Oh, Marianne.

Marguerite.

Oh, my dear, even when you were

on the other side of the world,

I always felt you near to me.

Marguerite...

Yesterday I found the letter

William sent you with the necklace.

He intended to ask you to come to New Zealand,

but when he wrote father, he put in my name by mistake.

Then when I came instead of you,

he married me out of pity.

Oh, Marguerite, don't you hear me?

Don't you realize what I'm saying?

I knew you were in love with him.

I knew he had an affection for you.

I made myself believe it was only a childish infatuation,

so I fought you for him,

and I always thought that I'd won him fairly...

But he's never loved anyone but you.

Was it just an accident

that you found the letter?

Just chance, do you think?

Perhaps there is less chance in life than we realize.

Perhaps it was intended

to bring out the truth at last.

Oh, but when I think of what your life has been--

a heartbreak.

Do I look like a heartbroken woman?

But you're becoming a nun because William married me.

At first, when you went away to marry him

and when your child was born,

there was nothing left for me

but chaos and hopelessness.

Ohh...

Oh, Marguerite.

Marguerite, can you ever forgive me?

There is no question of forgiveness.

Marianne.

Your husband is here in my room.

He wants to talk to you.

He loves you.

I'll send him to you.

No.

I ask you to do this for me.

Tell William that I've outgrown

the young, selfish love of a girl in her teens,

that I've found here what I've been searching for

all my life.

Tell him this is the way everything was meant to be.

You were destined to accomplish his salvation.

I was destined for this.

I was swept up to thee by thy beauty...

And if I was once unhappy,

today I am supremely happy,

not because I've given up something,

but because I've been given everything.

Tell him this...

And then, when you hear the chapel bells ringing,

then bring him to see me.

Marianne, so there shall be no doubt in your mind,

I've come here to see Marguerite

to tell her that much as I loved her once,

my love is now only for my wife.

What kind of love can that be--

something manufactured out of your sense of duty?

It would be an unhappy world

if the only kind of love was the love of youth.

And suppose I didn't love you when I married you.

You weren't a very lovable person then.

I didn't want to love you. I didn't try to,

but something great and wonderful was borne out of our relationship,

our accommodating ourselves to each other's failings,

our learning to know each other's virtues.

Oh, this is far more worth having than any other love I can think of.

Marianne, don't you see?

It was no slip of the pen that brought you to me.

It was something far greater than us,

something beyond my control.

Oh, I--I do love you, Marianne.

Now that I know how much, a whole new life is ahead of us.

Come with me to Marguerite

so that I can tell her the truth

and so that you'll know that I...

I only want you.

Oh, William.

Oh, William.

This love of yours...

This love that grew out of our marriage...

Has it all the warmth and glory...

All the passion and tenderness...

Everything that you once wanted love to be to you?

More than I ever dreamed of.

And now, with absolute truth between us,

it will be as perfect a love

as there can be on this earth.

Ohh...

Oh, William.

William, I'm so proud of you.

Go now, my children,

and be invested in the habit

of the congregation of the sisters of Saint Peter.

May the blessing of almighty god--

the father, the son, and the holy ghost--

descend upon you and remain forever.

Amen.