Oscar And Lucinda Script - Dialogue Transcript

Voila! Finally, the Oscar And Lucinda script is here for all you quotes spouting fans of the movie directed by Gillian Armstrong and starring Ralph Fiennes and Cate Blanchett.  This script is a transcript that was painstakingly transcribed using the screenplay and/or viewings of Oscar And Lucinda. I know, I know, I still need to get the cast names in there and I'll be eternally tweaking it, so if you have any corrections, feel free to drop me a line. You won't hurt my feelings. Honest.

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Oscar And Lucinda Script


  

                   

I would have no story to tell you...



 

                   

if my great-grandfather

had not wagered everything...



 

                   

to bring that church here

to the Bellinger River...



 

                   

or if Lucinda Leplastrier had not been

given a Prince Rupert's drop.



 

                   

Surprise!



 

                   

Surprise!



 

                   

Happy birthday, Lucinda.



 

                   

Oh, it's beautiful.



 

                   

- Your own Rupert's drop.

- Careful. Not too tight.



  

                   

Gently.



  

                   

- You see? Not even with a hammer.

- I'll try the ax.



  

                   

Lucinda,

try the pliers.



  

                   

- I like it just as it is.

- Go on.



  

                   

- Take the plunge.

- You'll see.



  

                   

- Just there.

- One, two, three.



  

                   

Now! Oh!



  

                   

My great-grandfather Oscar Hopkins...



  

                   

had skin like his mother's.



  

                   

Although the cancer

had been removed...



  

                   

by acid dropped

onto her tender skin...



  

                   

- she had died anyway.

- Papa!



  

                   

Papa!



  

                   

Papa!



  

                   

Go!



  

                   

Go! Go!



  

                   

Leave me!



  

                   

Papa!



  

                   

Go!



  

                   

- Oscar!

- Papa! Aah!



  

                   

Little Oscar.



  

                   

The sea, from then on,

would always smell of death to Oscar.



  

                   

It shall be a day

like any other of the Almighty's days.



  

                   

There will be no mockery

of the Almighty with pagan rituals.



  

                   

Others mayjudge and laugh...



  

                   

but they are in a darkness

of their own making...



  

                   

and will burn in hell.



  

                   

"And the light shineth

in the darkness...



  

                   

and the darkness

comprehended it not. "



  

                   

Nay, we shall not

use the name...



  

                   

the popish name

others confer upon it...



  

                   

Christ's mass.



  

                   

You have reclassified

your mama's buttons.



  

                   

Yes, Father.



  

                   

The taxonomic principle

being color...



  

                   

with the spectrum

from left to right.



  

                   

With size the second

principle of order.



  

                   

Very good.



  

                   

- All right.

- Give me neither poverty nor riches.



  

                   

Feed me with food

convenient to me.



  

                   

- Amen.

- Amen.



  

                   

Excuse me, sir. Would Master Hopkins

help with the pollard for the pig's swill?



  

                   

Very well.



  

                   

Here.



  

                   

What is it?



  

                   

- It's Christmas pudding.

- For you.



  

                   

Well, eat up.



  

                   

This is the food of Satan!



  

                   

Sir, it be Christmas day.



  

                   

Some call it that,

but none in my employ.



  

                   

Well, Master Hopkins...



  

                   

you will be a good helper

and fetch up the specimen buckets.



  

                   

Oscar had tasted the pudding.



  

                   

It did not taste like

the fruit of Satan.



  

                   

Dear God...



  

                   

if it is your desire

that your flock eat pudding...



  

                   

in celebration

of thy birth as a man...



  

                   

then show thy humble

supplicant a sign.



  

                   

Dear God...



  

                   

if it be thy will that

thy people eat pudding...



  

                   

- smite him!

- Oscar!



  

                   

Oscar!



  

                   

Oscar was frightened

by what he had begun.



  

                   

The Brethren.



  

                   

Baptists.



  

                   

Catholics.



  

                   

- Anglicans.

- Now his father...



  

                   

no longer knew

the true will of God...



  

                   

Oscar devised a way of asking

the question directly.



  

                   

Show me a sign

that thou talkest to me.



  

                   

Please.

Dear God, no!



  

                   

God repeated the message again and again...



  

                   

Anglican, Anglican,

Anglican.



  

                   

One, two, three,

four, five, six.



  

                   

Oscar did not wish to leave the shelter

of the Plymouth Brethren...



  

                   

but this was where God

wished him to go.



  

                   

That is precisely

my point, Hugh.



  

                   

Divine grace

cannot be sought.



  

                   

It is given.



  

                   

Oh, look, Betty.

It's a new crack.



  

                   

Look, Betty.

It is new.



  

                   

Stop.

You'll make it worse.



  

                   

They appear overnight.



  

                   

Do you know how much was

in the plate this morning?



  

                   

The walls have always been damp, Hugh.

We haven't died from it.



  

                   

That dissenter steals

our congregation one by one.



  

                   

We'll have nothing

while he gets fat.



  

                   

- That's his boy.

- Yes, so it is.



  

                   

Hugh, your back!



  

                   

Go home! Go home!

Go away! Go on!



   

                   

Get off my lettuces!

Off!



   

                   

Wait! I am called!



   

                   

I am called.



   

                   

- They're only raisins.

- He's probably unfamiliar with them.



   

                   

What will your

poor father do?



   

                   

Think of the pain

you will cause him.



   

                   

I know, but he is

in error, you see.



   

                   

He is not saved.



   

                   

But still, you will

go home to him. Hugh?



   

                   

I cannot,

no matter how much I want to.



   

                   

But surely,

your father loves you.



   

                   

Yes.



   

                   

Very much.

I also love him.



   

                   

But, Hugh,

the... the cost.



   

                   

- The boy is called.

- Well, in what sense "called"?



   

                   

He is called

to holy orders.



   

                   

You have had

three glasses, Hugh.



   

                   

I shall coach him

in his articles, Betty.



   

                   

He'll go

to my old college.



   

                   

Think of that.



   

                   

Oscar knew that the Brethren prayed...



   

                   

for the sinner

to be returned to the fold.



   

                   

But it was as impossible

for him to return...



   

                   

as it was for his father

to order him home.



   

                   

Neither would budge.



   

                   

Lucinda's mother knew

that she had produced...



   

                   

a proud, square peg...



   

                   

in the full knowledge

that from coast to coast...



   

                   

there were nothing

but round holes.



   

                   

Good boy.



   

                   

Eight eggs!



   

                   

I went for a swim.



   

                   

We should have returned home

after your father's death.



   

                   

- Returned home?

- To England.



   

                   

I can tolerate what...

I've done to myself staying on...



   

                   

but I can't bear to think

what I've done to you.



   

                   

Mama!



   

                   

You're so hot.



   

                   

I'm freezing.



   

                   

Hey, odd bod, hunt's on!



   

                   

Odd bod! Odd bod! Odd bod! Odd bod!



   

                   

No!



   

                   

I say, these are

West's rooms.



   

                   

West? No, um...



   

                   

- Fish.

- Fish, they are my rooms.



   

                   

He has new rooms on this staircase.

Damn it, I'm sure the scout said two.



   

                   

- Maybe it was one.

- Oh, no, please, please. Come in, come in.



   

                   

Ah.



   

                   

Um... Uh...



   

                   

I say, odd bod,

do you like a flutter?



   

                   

A flutter, Fish?



   

                   

- No, of course you don't.

- What is a flutter?



   

                   

It is to do

with the racetrack.



   

                   

Oh.

Um, ath... athletics?



   

                   

- Horse races.

- Horses?



   

                   

And, um, which part of the race

involves the flutter?



   

                   

A wager, a bet...

a flutter.



   

                   

- You do know what a bet is?

- No, um, I-I don't.



   

                   

You give your money

to chaps...



   

                   

and if the horse you like

is the one that wins...



   

                   

then they give you

double your money back...



   

                   

- or treble or whatever.

- Treble your money for... for guessing?



   

                   

Guessing correctly.

You mock me.



   

                   

No, no.

This is all new to me.



   

                   

I was raised in a little village in Devon,

very much out of the way.



   

                   

Look here, odd bod,

I have to dash.



   

                   

- Perhaps you could, uh, call me Hopkins.

- Call you what?



   

                   

My... My name... Hopkins.



   

                   

Do not rattle your sovereigns.

You are not a plunger.



   

                   

- What is a plunger?

- A plunger? West is a plunger.



   

                   

He starts off with a couple of sovs,

comes up trumps...



   

                   

then dabs it all down

on the second and loses the lot.



   

                   

Look at her. Revenger's Lass...

  to   in the first.



   

                   

It's the day for a powerful bum like that.



   

                   

Look at that backside.

Just look.



   

                   

Now, number    is...



   

                   

the Sailor.



   

                   

- Uh...

- You have caught the germ.



   

                   

- No, no, thank you.

- I am corrupting you.



   

                   

- No, Fish. Fish, don't you see?

- You should not be here.



   

                   

No. You are

an agent of the Lord.



   

                   

Whoa, odd bod.

Ease up.



   

                   

I have been praying to God

for funds, and now...



   

                   

I shall be able

to pay my bills.



   

                   

I shall be able

to pay my bills.



   

                   

Quick, or we'll miss

the first.



   

                   

I am already damned,

of course.



   

                   

That's the Sailor?

Fish, has that got a powerful bum?



   

                   

Odd bod, come on.



   

                   

My great-grandfather won his first bet.



   

                   

In the case histories

of pathological gamblers...



   

                   

you'll find the same story

told time and time again.



   

                   

Stop!

Those trees are mine! Stop it!



   

                   

No, she would've

talked of it to me.



   

                   

She intended

to return home.



   

                   

But this is our home.



   

                   

No, that is not

my mother's signature.



   

                   

Indeed it is.

She signed it in my office.



   

                   

She had it all

calculated...



   

                   

five farms, you see,

at      acres apiece.



   

                   

- You say all this is mine?

- Held in trust by me.



   

                   

- Until you were of age.

- My mother would not have done that.



   

                   

Dear little girl, with a fortune

such as this, you'll be married in a jiffy.



   

                   

- But why was I not told this?

- I would have told you today,

after your mother's funeral.



   

                   

- If you had not run away.

- No, I... I'm staying here.



   

                   

You... You cannot. Your new home is

with Mrs. Ahearn and myself in Parramatta.



   

                   

Yes, you will go

to Mrs. Cousin's School for Young Ladies.



   

                   

No! No!



   

                   

Oh, dear.



   

                   

- Come, come, girlie.

- Do not touch me!



   

                   

You will be rich

one day.



   

                   

That is not the point.



   

                   

Not the point.



   

                   

Lucinda had never been on a boat.



   

                   

She had never been

to Sydney.



   

                   

She carried with her a bank draft

for her entire fortune...



   

                   

as well as an itchy impatience to grasp

what her mother had called...



   

                   

the working world.



   

                   

When Lucinda exploded her present

of the Prince Rupert's drop...



   

                   

it was not something

she easily forgot.



   

                   

She knew that glass

is a thing in disguise...



   

                   

is not solid at all,

but a liquid.



   

                   

And even while it is as frail as the ice

on a Parramatta puddle...



   

                   

it is stronger

than Sydney sandstone.



   

                   

It was as good a material

as any to build a life on.



   

                   

Thank you.



   

                   

One is more

than enough, miss.



   

                   

Oh.



   

                   

Good luck, miss.



   

                   

This Frenchman, Leplastrier...



   

                   

Ifhe expects to find

an expert on glass...



   

                   

I am afraid he'll find

only an enthusiast.



   

                   

However, he has found out my little hobby,

and I shall try to advise.



   

                   

Your visitor, sir.



   

                   

Jolly good.

Show him in.



   

                   

Monsieur Leplastrier.



   

                   

This is from Botany...



   

                   

and the other is

from Hallet's in London.



   

                   

Hold them up to the light.

Compare them.



   

                   

The London...

this one...



   

                   

it's quite yellow...



   

                   

and this is...



   

                   

Oh, it is so clear.

It is lovely.



   

                   

Now...



   

                   

the pièce de résistance.



   

                   

Oh!



   

                   

- No! No, you must not.

- Why must I not?



   

                   

Because...

you know what will happen...



   

                   

well, when it is... gone.



   

                   

Oh.



   

                   

I'm sorry.



   

                   

There's nothing

to be sorry for.



   

                   

The glassworks that are for sale

in Darling Harbour...



   

                   

- I wish to buy them.

- To buy?



   

                   

Would you help me?



   

                   

But I have no knowledge

of the commercial side.



   

                   

My theory is adequate, of course, but...



   

                   

- I'll be there in a minute, Frazer.

- Very good, sir.



   

                   

Don't worry about him. Now stay, please.



   

                   

Soon, though, I have

clergyman's business to attend to.



   

                   

- Yes. You cannot help me.

- On the contrary.



   

                   

Of course I shall help you

to buy your glassworks.



   

                   

I have more than

£     .



   

                   

The deuce you do.



   

                   

Will you take

the plunge with me?



   

                   

Monsieur Leplastrier.



   

                   

Fifteen,            ...



   

                   

Stop. More for you,

less for the poor.



   

                   

- Well, this is all I need.

- You need new togs.



   

                   

What is wrong with my togs?



   

                   

Everything.



   

                   

You rake it in, then throw it away.



   

                   

Look at you.

You look like a scarecrow.



   

                   

Perhaps because

I'm wearing your coat.



   

                   

Pardon me.



   

                   

You've paid your buttery bill.

I inquired. And drinking coffee.



   

                   

- No, not coffee.

- No?



   

                   

I have a question for you.

It is this...



   

                   

Do you have an income?



   

                   

No, thank you. I'd rather stand.

I will take it very ill if you've tricked me.



   

                   

I have not tricked you.



   

                   

It's    years since

I could afford coffee...



   

                   

and now, you, a poor creature

who has nothing in the world...



   

                   

save what I can scrape together,

is so gracious...



   

                   

as to send me...



   

                   

this luxury.



   

                   

I only wish you

not to worry.



   

                   

God will provide for me.



   

                   

- Did you not enjoy your coffee?

- Do not be so simple.



   

                   

You're poisoned

by your father's ideas.



   

                   

- I may be simple...

- Your father is paying you.



   

                   

I swear he is not.



   

                   

He would not pay a penny

to send me here.



   

                   

We've only met four times

since we parted.



   

                   

Then where does

the money come from?



   

                   

I am here in Oxford...



   

                   

to raise funds for the restoration

of my little church.



   

                   

Now, you must promise me...



   

                   

never to be involved

in anything amiss.



   

                   

I cannot have my name

brought low.



   

                   

My dear Mr. Stratton...



   

                   

there is no need

for such a promise.



   

                   

I sent you the coffee

because I love you both.



   

                   

I meant no offense.



   

                   

Miss?



   

                   

Uh, would you leave

the glass samples out, please, Kate?



   

                   

- Just left out, miss? Like that?

- Mm-hmm.



   

                   

I have them all

in categories, you see.



   

                   

The Reverend Dennis Hasset

knew his behavior was reckless.



   

                   

His diary recorded the first meeting

with this unusual girl...



   

                   

and after that, many red slashes

across previous appointments...



   

                   

even one parish meeting.



   

                   

You were right

in your choice of the navy.



   

                   

Uh, excellent.



   

                   

Who is that creature?



   

                   

- Sydney got ready to be scandalized.

- I do agree.



   

                   

It could not bear to see

the two of them together.



   

                   

Let her socialize with the notorious

Charlie Fig if she wished...



   

                   

or with her accountant,

Jimmy D'Abbs.



   

                   

- Pay up double, everyone. Pay up double.

- Oh, dear.



   

                   

Harvey Briggs has

bought himself a steamer.



   

                   

Oh, he can take us

up to Pittwater.



   

                   

Or across to

Mossman's Bay.



   

                   

- Who'd trust Briggsy with a steamer?

- I would rather Pittwater.



   

                   

We could take her out for the day.



   

                   

Look at this.

Two weeks ago...



   

                   

she spilled them everywhere.



   

                   

- Have you had enough of cards?

- Oh, please, just one more hand.



   

                   

You have already lost three guineas,

and it is after  :  .



   

                   

One more hand.



   

                   

D'Abbs, you're to be looking out for the girl's

money, not trying to take it from her.



   

                   

- She is free to leave, Fig.

- Pass.



   

                   

- Pass.

- Five, with hearts.



   

                   

- Pass.

- Eight, with spades.



   

                   

A duck to water.

She's caught the bug.



   

                   

We are corrupting you.



   

                   

I am jealous of your passion, I must admit.



   

                   

- You are making fun of me.

- Not at all.



   

                   

I am a cold man warming myself

at someone else's fire.



   

                   

You will help me to exercise it carefully,

with caution?



   

                   

We shall co-opt, of course. I have a friend...

a clever chap called Wilson.



   

                   

- I wish you'd let me carry those.

- Oh, they're nothing. I have

worked on a farm, you know.



   

                   

London, of course,

is where you should go.



   

                   

London? But I have only

just arrived here.



   

                   

To buy the very latest machinery.

That will make Sydney sit up.



   

                   

Um...



   

                   

- Is he...

- Yes, miss.



   

                   

I have signed!



   

                   

I own the glassworks.



   

                   

My congratulations.



   

                   

I must confess

to feeling scared.



   

                   

I broke with my friend

Tom Wilson this afternoon.



   

                   

Why is that?



   

                   

He said things about you

that are scurrilous.



   

                   

He said things about you

that are scurrilous.



   

                   

What things?



   

                   

That you stay up

all night gambling...



   

                   

with Jimmy D'Abbs

and Charlie Fig...



   

                   

and others of that type.



   

                   

I told Wilson such stories

are pure fabrication...



   

                   

that they should not

be repeated.



   

                   

I told him that D'Abbs

was your accountant...



   

                   

that you did go and see him,

that, indeed, I went with you.



   

                   

There's no more to it,

is there?



   

                   

I am sorry you argued

with your friend.



   

                   

Is there any truth

in his story?



   

                   

I have been

to Mr. D'Abbs's house.



   

                   

Gambling?



   

                   

I was lonely.



   

                   

But you have been here

three or four evenings each week.



   

                   

Wilson mentioned

gambling parties...



   

                   

on a boat at Pittwater.



   

                   

And dancing...



   

                   

not once, but twice.



   

                   

There was no dancing.



   

                   

- Well, I must go.

- But you came to celebrate.



   

                   

- I am too sleepy.

- But we're having beef.



   

                   

- I have to meet Mr. Queale.

- At this hour?



   

                   

Well, there's still

another paper to sign.



   

                   

But his office

will be closed.



   

                   

We are to meet

at Petty's Hotel.



   

                   

I am sorry

about your friend.



   

                   

Lucinda had an immense feeling of relief...



   

                   

no responsibility,

no choice.



   

                   

Every loss was one brick less

in the foundation ofher fortune.



   

                   

Three to one. All bets placed and...



   

                   

Get him, Major!

Go for it, Major! Go for it!



   

                   

Don't run, Perkins!



   

                   

I inquired last week

about the church missionary society.



   

                   

- Sorry, sir.

- Slow down, odd bod.



   

                   

- They will have me if I wish.

- For what?



   

                   

I inquired about

New South Wales.



   

                   

There is no need to frighten yourself

with such ideas.



   

                   

Look at me, Fish.

I have changed.



   

                   

Look at what I have become.



   

                   

Oh, strike me.

What have you become?



   

                   

I have become vile.



   

                   

You are not vile.



   

                   

It's just that

you do not fit.



   

                   

- Shh. Speak quietly.

- You are perfectly unique.



   

                   

- Do you... fit?

- Me?



   

                   

Oh, I fit.

I daresay, I fit all too well.



   

                   

Look at me.

I'm about to marry a bishop's daughter.



   

                   

You cannot fit

more than that.



   

                   

The, uh... The school pays

for all my needs, but...



   

                   

I... I cannot stop gambling.



   

                   

But you give it

all away.



   

                   

You do not even have

coal for a fire.



   

                   

Look at how you live.



   

                   

You have nothing.

Look at your togs.



   

                   

And stop fidgeting.



   

                   

I have sunk so low.



   

                   

I gamble,

even on the Sabbath...



   

                   

on cards, on dogs, anything...

whatever is going.



   

                   

You do not have to go

to New South Wales for penance.



   

                   

And anyway,

you cannot.



   

                   

Why not?



   

                   

Because you cannot bear

a little aqua.



   

                   

You could not sail

as far as Calais.



   

                   

You wish me

to flip this?



   

                   

Oh...



   

                   

Yes.



   

                   

You know I only use

my own coins.



   

                   

Call.



   

                   

- Call.

- No, I... I cannot.



   

                   

Why not?



   

                   

- I'm frightened.

- Then why do such things to yourself?



   

                   

- Come, dear odd bod.

- Heads.



   

                   

For a man who could not bear a little aqua...



   

                   

the Leviathan was

the only ship to travel on.



   

                   

In second class,

you could go eight weeks...



   

                   

and never find your way to a porthole

with a view of the sea.



   

                   

- Pauvre vache.

- Non, c'est drole.



   

                   

The owner of Prince Rupert's Glassworks

had been told that on a clear day...



   

                   

from first class,

you could see all the way to China.



   

                   

Up we go. Hold tight.



   

                   

In a trice, Hopkins,

as I told you.



   

                   

In a trice.



   

                   

Goodness, what a splurge

all this is.



   

                   

Is it you that paid

the boy's passage?



   

                   

I would not have him

go away.



   

                   

Well, it certainly wasn't

the missionary society.



   

                   

Hopkins's old man

writes about the "yea"melody.



   

                   

Melody?



   

                   

Mr. Carlyle's

eternal "yea. "



   

                   

Dearest, you make no sense.



   

                   

For the many singular

kindnesses, et cetera...



   

                   

bestowed by him

on his devoted pupils...



   

                   

during their three...



   

                   

their three...



   

                   

Father.



   

                   

Get up.

You are not one of them.



   

                   

O Lord God...



   

                   

O Lord God...



   

                   

this is my son...



   

                   

from whom I have been

estranged.



   

                   

These are his friends

and fellow voyagers.



   

                   

O Lord...



   

                   

what can we do?



   

                   

This is your caul, from off your

little head when you were born.



   

                   

It is said to save you

from drowning.



   

                   

Will we never stand together

with God on that happy day?



   

                   

All ashore that's going ashore!



   

                   

All ashore

that's going ashore!



   

                   

Oscar knew it was only superstition...



   

                   

that said a caul could

prevent you from drowning...



   

                   

yet he clung

to the belief anyway.



   

                   

You can no longer

put me off.



   

                   

There has been too much

cat and mouse.



   

                   

- We did not think that we were

educating a wealthy man.

- I am not a wealthy man.



   

                   

I am not a cadger.

I do not come here to beg, but...



   

                   

you must tell me how it is

you managed all this.



   

                   

If I were to tell you

and my father heard of it...



   

                   

it would be a torture

beyond his toleration.



   

                   

You have my word

he never shall.



   

                   

All ashore that's going ashore!



   

                   

Oh, dear Oscar,

accept my word.



   

                   

I have...



   

                   

gambled.



   

                   

I knew it.



   

                   

- So, gambled.

- The ship is moving.



   

                   

- You have a system. Is that what you call it?

- System?



   

                   

You have a system...



   

                   

and you will

write it down for me.



   

                   

It's not a simple thing you can just

write down. We have left it too late.



   

                   

- Write it down, boy! I beg you!

- You must go!



   

                   

Is it horses?



   

                   

It is.



   

                   

Do you swear

before God...



   

                   

that you will send me

your system?



   

                   

I do.



   

                   

You must go.



   

                   

- All ashore that's going ashore!

- Go!



   

                   

- Right. Round again, are we?

- Okay, raise you two.



   

                   

- I'm out.

- I'm in.



   

                   

Right. Well, looks like

I'm playing at the wrong time.



   

                   

I'll have that lot in.



   

                   

Let's have a look at you.



   

                   

Thank you very much. Ta.



   

                   

Eeny, meeny, miney...



   

                   

mo.



   

                   

I am in the habit of making,

uh, my confession.



   

                   

Oh. Um, quite.



   

                   

Uh, Lucinda Leplastrier.

How do you do?



   

                   

Oscar Hopkins.

How do you do?



   

                   

- Do you hear confession?

- I have done, on occasion, yes.



   

                   

Oh, but perhaps it is not

a habit you approve of.



   

                   

No, no, no.

I, um... Well, um, no.



   

                   

- Would you, uh, hear mine?

- Of course.



   

                   

Thank you.



   

                   

- Um, where shall I find you?

- What?



   

                   

I'm in first cla...

first class.



   

                   

Um...



   

                   

In order that I exist, two gamblers...



   

                   

one obsessive,

the other compulsive...



   

                   

must declare themselves.



   

                   

You must excuse me

for not coming earlier.



   

                   

Of course.



   

                   

You must come

and look at my view.



   

                   

The purser calls them

landscape windows, but I argue...



   

                   

they should rather be called seascape win...



   

                   

You... You see, I, uh...



   

                   

I have a phobia

about the ocean.



   

                   

Yes, my... my father

was a naturalist...



   

                   

and was in the ocean

all the time.



   

                   

I, too, when I was

a little chap...



   

                   

but I developed a nervousness about it,

like some have with heights.



   

                   

So to come up here

with all this glass...



   

                   

to hear your confession...



   

                   

I feared it was more

than I could manage.



   

                   

But I owe you an apology. I'm...



   

                   

As you see, I was... I was capable

of coming all the time.



   

                   

Uh, confession.



   

                   

"The, uh... The Lord

be in thy heart...



   

                   

"and on thy lips

and give thee grace...



   

                   

to make a true

and faithful confession. "



   

                   

So, uh...



   

                   

I...



   

                   

I co... confess

to God Almighty...



   

                   

and...



   

                   

the whole company

of heaven...



   

                   

- that I have sinned.

- Mm-hmm.



   

                   

I have attended rooms

in Drury Lane...



   

                   

for... for the purpose

of playing fan-tan.



   

                   

I... I've played dice on a train...

full of racing types.



   

                   

Well, I did not attend

the racetrack, but...



   

                   

I went on that train

expressly to play dice.



   

                   

I tried to persuade a business colleague

of mine to take me to a cockfight.



   

                   

No, he refused, but...



   

                   

- I would have gone.

- Mm-hmm.



   

                   

I set up the table here

like this...



   

                   

as a trap for the stewards

who I know to play... poker.



   

                   

I wished to play with them.



   

                   

The-The-The dice...



   

                   

The dice that you

played on the train...



   

                   

was it Dutch hazards?



   

                   

Yes, it... it was.



   

                   

- We also played another game.

- Old British, perhaps?



   

                   

No. In New South Wales,

it is known as seventh man.



   

                   

- And who provided the Peter?

- The Peter?



   

                   

- The term is unknown to you?

- No, no. I... think it's quite familiar.



   

                   

I thought so.



   

                   

Uh...



   

                   

These, uh, terms,

Mr. Hopkins...



   

                   

Are they also, uh,

familiar to you?



   

                   

- Look, I'm afraid so.

- Well...



   

                   

- This is most improper.

- I don't think so.



   

                   

Um, you have not

absolved me.



   

                   

Where is the sin?



   

                   

We bet!



   

                   

It is all in Pascal, you know.

We bet that there is a God.



   

                   

We bet our life on it.

We calculate the odds, the return...



   

                   

that we shall sit

with the saints in paradise.



   

                   

Our anxiety

about our bet...



   

                   

wakes us before dawn

in a cold sweat...



   

                   

and God,

God sees us suffer.



   

                   

I cannot believe

that such a God whose...



   

                   

whose fundamental requirement

of us is that we gamble our mortal souls.



   

                   

It's true, no, we stake everything

on the fact of his existence.



   

                   

I cannot believe that such

a God can look unkindly on a chap...



   

                   

wagering a few quid

on the likelihood of a dumb animal...



   

                   

crossing the line first,

un-unless...



   

                   

unless it-it-it might

be considered a...



   

                   

a blasphemy to apply

to common pleasure...



   

                   

that which is divine.



   

                   

Shall we play?



   

                   

- Yes!

- Yes!



   

                   

Yes.



   

                   

Bet one shilling.



   

                   

I raise you a shilling.



   

                   

And...



   

                   

then I sh...



   

                   

I shall see you.



   

                   

Whoo!



   

                   

Your two and four.



   

                   

Your four.



   

                   

I raise you three.



   

                   

I'll see you.



   

                   

Uh... Uh...



   

                   

- I have led you astray!

- What?



   

                   

No, I have led you astray.

You must forgive me.



   

                   

Yes, yes. Of course I forgive you.



   

                   

- I played for pleasure.

- No! No!



   

                   

I played for pleasure!



   

                   

Please!



   

                   

Oh, dear.



   

                   

The scandal kept Lucinda a prisoner...



   

                   

in her stateroom.



   

                   

She waited for Oscar

to apologize...



   

                   

but she did not hear a word.



   

                   

My great-grandfather

did not emerge from his cabin...



   

                   

until the pinchgut cannons saluted

the great ship's entry into Sydney Harbour.



   

                   

Do not fear

for your wife's cloth, Dean.



   

                   

- My lord, I...

- Not a drop will spill.

You'll see I was not boasting.



   

                   

I'll take a small bet

on it.



   

                   

- Will no one humor me?

- Uh...



   

                   

Half a crown, my lord.



   

                   

- Double or nothing.

- Done.



   

                   

Now...



   

                   

concentrate.



   

                   

Watch.



   

                   

You will not see this done

by many other bishops.



   

                   

- Allow me to remove this.

- No, no, no. Leave it, leave it, leave it.



   

                   

Ha!



   

                   

You did not believe that I could do it.



   

                   

Well done, my lord.



   

                   

I hear that your glass lady is returned.



   

                   

Beg your pardon, my lord?



   

                   

Your petite amie.



   

                   

Miss Leplastrier is not that, my lord.



   

                   

She has arrived just in time

for your farewells.



   

                   

I am told the parish

is called Never-never.



   

                   

Our last chap

was run out of town.



   

                   

"Never, never come back,"

they told him.



   

                   

Miss Leplastrier?



   

                   

Is that the Miss Leplastrier

who has just returned from England?



   

                   

Have you met?



   

                   

Yes.



   

                   

Then I am responsible for your exile.



   

                   

- Yes, and you have tried to hide it from me.

- Hush.



   

                   

- Oh, I never thought...

- Now hush, do you hear me?

You're wrong, quite wrong.



   

                   

Please.



   

                   

- It is wholly theological.

- You are not forced to go.



   

                   

I have no choice.

I must go where I'm sent.



   

                   

- By God?

- Of course.



   

                   

Or a man, the bishop?



   

                   

Please.

Do leave it alone.



   

                   

What will happen

to you in a place...



   

                   

where there is nothing

but mud and taverns?



   

                   

- There's no church.

- No church building.



   

                   

Stay. Please.



   

                   

We can have the works

together.



   

                   

And neither of us lonely.



   

                   

No, I must go.



   

                   

So you will preach

what you do not believe...



   

                   

- to men who do not care?

- I shall preach what I do believe.



   

                   

There's no virgin birth?



   

                   

That Christ died

for our sins...



   

                   

that we might be redeemed

through his blood...



   

                   

that we might sit

at the side of God in heaven.



   

                   

There is a part of you

that wishes to be sent away.



   

                   

Quite a large part.



   

                   

Hmm.



   

                   

Who will I have

to talk to?



   

                   

Does the track bother you,

Reverend?



   

                   

A little, Mrs. Judd.



   

                   

You grow accustomed

to it...



   

                   

in time.



   

                   

Three shillings and threepence.

That's every penny, Hugh.



   

                   

- We'll double it.

- All my capital.



   

                   

Treble it. The system works.

It's foolproof.



   

                   

- It has not been thus far.

- The boy has proven it.



   

                   

Dear Betty, have faith.



   

                   

Hugh! Wait!



   

                   

Oh, Hugh. Please.



   

                   

Please, Hugh.

I can't keep up. Hugh!



   

                   

Mrs. Chadwick?



   

                   

Mrs. Chadwick?



   

                   

I cannot find Paraguay,

Mrs. Chadwick.



   

                   

Have you looked

in the index, Alice?



   

                   

Even her duties as a governess...



   

                   

did not prevent

twice-widowed Miriam Chadwick...



   

                   

from chasing after

another possible husband.



   

                   

I am sorry we have no better

a place for service.



   

                   

Why be sorry, verger?



   

                   

Wherever we're gathered,

isn't it true, God is with us...



   

                   

in a cathedral

or under a tree...



   

                   

as with

our first settlers.



   

                   

Our Lord was born in a stable, verger.



   

                   

I have brought flowers

for the altar.



   

                   

Thank you.



   

                   

Now Lucinda had lost her only friend.



   

                   

She wrote to him

almost daily.



   

                   

What do you think of

a glass arcade to cover George Street...



   

                   

or a little pyramid of glass

for the circular quay?



   

                   

I do wish you were here

to advise me.



   

                   

Are you homesick for Sydney?



   

                   

Heads.



   

                   

Oh, Mr. Judd, the reverend's flowers!



   

                   

Whose dratted horse

is that?



   

                   

Silly bloody animal.



   

                   

No, Mr. Hasset did not ask

to go north. He was sent.



   

                   

- I asked and was refused.

- The bishop refused you?



   

                   

Mr. Judd,

what's going on?



   

                   

The Reverend Hasset,

is he, um...



   

                   

a good friend?



   

                   

Mmm.

He is a very dear friend.



   

                   

Oh, look!



   

                   

Ah.



   

                   

Come on!



   

                   

- I'll tell you, sir...

- Mr. Judd, Mrs. Judd.



   

                   

Please, come in.



   

                   

Here we are.



   

                   

You've been gambling, sir.

We'll not have this. You can't deny it.



   

                   

- I'm not denying it.

- She's slipping out.



   

                   

- I meant no offense.

- She's putting on her hat.



   

                   

- She is my guest, Mrs. Judd.

- A pretty name for it!



   

                   

- Mrs. Judd!

- I will not be stopped. He is a hypocrite.



   

                   

We make him lovely vestments.

He will not wear them. Isn't that true?



   

                   

- You think God would rather

see you looking like a crow?

- No. I wear what I believe...



   

                   

- You dress like a scarecrow, sir!

- Dresses like a scarecrow.



   

                   

And he throws out our music

and our candles.



   

                   

And here he is with cards

and women in the temple!



   

                   

You are a rude woman,

and you are a rude man.



   

                   

You imagine you are civilized, but you are

like savages with toppers and tails.



   

                   

You should pray God

to forgive you your rudeness.



   

                   

You may leave.



   

                   

The way you came.



   

                   

Well, close it!



   

                   

I am done for.



   

                   

Sure... Surely not.



   

                   

When I told

the ecclesiastical commission...



   

                   

that I had never gambled

for personal gain...



   

                   

they would not believe me.



   

                   

They have cast me out.



   

                   

I am sorry to have caused you

so much anguish, dear Papa.



   

                   

I know that you will believe

that I am destined for eternal hellfire.



   

                   

It does seem there is

nothing for a man to do...



   

                   

once he has gained

the reputation...



   

                   

that has been

so unjustly given to me.



   

                   

Is Mr. Hopkins here?



   

                   

No, he is not.



   

                   

Would you tell me

where he has gone?



   

                   

No, I cannot.

I am only a savage.



   

                   

Get up, boy!



   

                   

Get up, boy.



   

                   

Mr. Hopkins?



   

                   

Forgive me.



   

                   

Whoa, boy.



   

                   

- Stand, Boysie.

- Mrs. Smith, we have a visitor.



   

                   

Oh, is that... too tight?



   

                   

No, no. No.



   

                   

There's one paw.

Now the other.



   

                   

Them cuts,

they was made by praying.



   

                   

- Not fighting?

- Praying... like this.



   

                   

Mr. Hopkins?



   

                   

Good morning!



   

                   

Mr. Hopkins.



   

                   

Mr. Hopkins, may I...

may I ask you something?



   

                   

I have been searching for work as a clerk.

I shall not trouble you much longer.



   

                   

No. No, what I wanted to ask

is why do you ignore me?



   

                   

I... I know you have been

through awful pain, and I am sorry for it.



   

                   

But now you...



   

                   

you hide in your room.



   

                   

I never see you.



   

                   

And when I do, you will not look at me.

You barely speak to me.



   

                   

I cannot gamble again.



   

                   

I have not asked you

to gamble.



   

                   

No.



   

                   

I'm in constant fear

every moment of the day...



   

                   

that something we say or do

will start it all over again.



   

                   

Well, I admit,

yes, in that case...



   

                   

we do not have a good history.



   

                   

I am weak.



   

                   

It is like opium to me.



   

                   

For years, I gambled and took what I needed

and gave the rest to the poor.



   

                   

I gambled for a purpose.

There was no sin in what I did.



   

                   

But then when I had

all my needs paid for, I still could not stop...



   

                   

even when I promised God.



   

                   

We shall make a pact.



   

                   

We shall?



   

                   

To never gamble again.



   

                   

I promise I shall never invite you

to a game of cards...



   

                   

or any other form

of gambling.



   

                   

And we shall keep it

and be friends.



   

                   

Yes.



   

                   

I am leaving.

I cannot stay.



   

                   

What do you mean?



   

                   

The gentleman...

so-called...



   

                   

I've been told

who he is.



   

                   

- Oh, your friends at church

have been talking to you.

- I cannot stay!



   

                   

- Well, do not stay then.

- It will give me a bad name.



   

                   

People will think

I was part of it.



   

                   

Part of what?



   

                   

Go!



   

                   

Both sides, Mr. Hopkins.



   

                   

Pipped at the post.





 

                   

- Do you know what I wish?

- No. What do you wish?



 

                   

I wish I had    sisters.



 

                   

- Ten?

- Mm-hmm.



 

                   

Then maybe I could let people

be simple good chaps...



 

                   

as my father could.



 

                   

I am too critical.



 

                   

Is this your confession?



 

                   

And you?



 

                   

I wish I could walk

on the path...



  

                   

between the high downs

and the sea...



  

                   

where my father lives.



  

                   

I... I do not fit.

I know that.



  

                   

You do not give a hoot

what people think of you.



  

                   

Well, my friend from home, Wardley-Fish,

he said it was of no matter.



  

                   

He's right...



  

                   

your friend.



  

                   

The idea that Lucinda

loved Dennis Hasset had taken hold...



  

                   

and would not easily

be knocked loose.



  

                   

- Cheers to Mr. Hopkins.

- Cheers!



  

                   

- Cheers to Mr. Hopkins.

- Here you are, sir.



  

                   

It is a great pleasure, sir, to see our missus

take up with a gentleman such as you.



  

                   

And when our window making

is at full tilt, just come along.



  

                   

We'll be pleased

to explain it to you.



  

                   

Thank you, Arthur.

I will.



  

                   

Oh.



  

                   

I have never seen anything so splendid

as your glassworks.



  

                   

You may approach.

It is not sacred.



  

                   

It is merely a...

prototype.



  

                   

Oh.



  

                   

I thought perhaps

an exhibition hall.



  

                   

It is, uh...



  

                   

It is like a kennel

for God's angels.



  

                   

I, uh...



  

                   

I am bowled over.



  

                   

I, uh... I...

I feel extraordinarily happy.



  

                   

It is so beautiful.



  

                   

Mmm.



  

                   

I have an idea.



  

                   

Are you curious?



  

                   

Yes, of course

I am curious.



  

                   

Oscar's idea was born

out of Christianity...



  

                   

that if you sacrifice yourself,

you will attain the object of your desires.



  

                   

Oh, yes. Thank you.



  

                   

The odds were surely stacked against him.



  

                   

Had it been a horse rather than a woman's

heart, he would never have bet on it...



  

                   

not even for a place.



  

                   

How does your correspondent

enjoy Bellingen Town?



  

                   

Well enough.



  

                   

Does he have a church

built yet?



  

                   

Uh, no, they still hold the service

behind the blacksmith's.



  

                   

Mr. Hasset

should have a church.



  

                   

What is your idea?



  

                   

Well, what would be

his feeling...



  

                   

if he woke up one morning,

he looked out of his window...



  

                   

and he saw a church...



  

                   

made of glass?



  

                   

Oh.



  

                   

A church?



  

                   

- Of glass.

- A glass church.



  

                   

- Yes!

- It is not practical.



  

                   

What is the practical

purpose of a church?



  

                   

If it is only to provide

shelter to Christians...



  

                   

and my father would take

this view...



  

                   

then it is better to worship

in rooms behind a blacksmith.



  

                   

But if the purpose

of a church...



  

                   

is also

a celebration of God...



  

                   

then I would say I am the most practical man

you have spoken to all year.



  

                   

It's like the stairs in the library.

It's what they call a pre...



  

                   

- Prefabricated.

- Yes. You can pack it in crates

and transport it by cart.



  

                   

- No, over ship.

- Yes, you can take it across

the Great Dividing Range!



  

                   

- We are mad to think of it.

- No! No, we are not mad!



  

                   

We-We-We... No! No!

We... We are not mad.



  

                   

Can you imagine

Mr. Hasset's face?



  

                   

- You will deliver it to him.

- I?



  

                   

- Yes, but surely you would...

- No, I cannot leave the works.



  

                   

- But you wouldn't...

- No, it's quite impossible.



  

                   

They're only just recovering

from my last absence.



  

                   

Then I shall...



  

                   

on your behalf.



  

                   

- Bellingen is approached by sea.

- Then I shall go by land.



  

                   

You cannot. It is largely

unmapped country.



  

                   

You think it is outside

my scope?



  

                   

- There is no shame in that.

- There is no truth in it, either.



  

                   

- I wager you I can do it.

You may nominate the date.

- This is madness.



  

                   

I am prepared

to wager you...



  

                   

that I can have the glass church

in Bellingen by, say...



  

                   

Good Friday.



  

                   

And what can you bet?



  

                   

- Ten guineas.

- No, that's not enough.



  

                   

What is enough?



  

                   

Your inheritance.



  

                   

My father may live

until he's    .



  

                   

- He's not a rich man anyway.

- That makes no difference.



  

                   

- And you will bet? The same amount?

- Same.



  

                   

The same.



  

                   

My inheritance.



  

                   

- But you already have it.

- Yes.



  

                   

- Your works?

- Yes, everything.



  

                   

You... You will wager

all that?



   

                   

Yes.



   

                   

Five weeks without...

without even a game of penny poker...



   

                   

and... and now this.



   

                   

Very pretty, this fretwork.



   

                   

It is quite ingenious.



   

                   

Ah, here is my head clerk.



   

                   

Come in, Jeffris.

We have a question for you.



   

                   

Miss Leplastrier, Mr. Hopkins.

This is from the horse's mouth.



   

                   

Jeffris is quite the explorer.



   

                   

He has been there, up north,

on the road survey.



   

                   

- Wasn't it, Jeffris?

- Yes.



   

                   

He knows all

the ins and outs.



   

                   

Would that road

be of any use?



   

                   

If you were carrying cargo

of any sort...



   

                   

- it would be a fool's way to go.

- Oh.



   

                   

Well, we... Yes.



   

                   

We will have cargo, yes.



   

                   

- Then you must go by sea.

- Mr. Hopkins is set on going overland.



   

                   

- Is that so?

- Yes. Yes, I'm afraid it is.



   

                   

Going by land, of course,

one of your main problems...



   

                   

is the butchering habits

of the blacks up north.



   

                   

But you must know that.

If you go...



   

                   

as all the incompetents

have done...



   

                   

smack bang through the center

of their kingdoms, what can you expect?



   

                   

It is like thrusting your bare hand

into a beehive.



   

                   

Gets them hopping mad.



   

                   

Ergo, you take your time...



   

                   

go around their boundaries,

and you're left alone.



   

                   

- Who knows these boundaries?

- I do.



   

                   

Whoa. Ease up.

You are not stealing my head clerk.



   

                   

- Morning, Captain.

- Good morning. Mr. Hopkins.



   

                   

We're having a rehearsal,

Mr. Jeffris.



   

                   

I shall need some assistance

at Bellingen.



   

                   

Though it need not be skilled.

I have learned to glaze.



   

                   

- Excellent.

- It's... It's a lot harder than Latin verbs.



   

                   

Oh, no, Harry, that's "B."

It's to balance "H."



   

                   

He is a brave man,

Mr. Jeffris.



   

                   

Yes, he's

an extraordinary chap.



   

                   

- He's far braver than you or I.

- "D."



   

                   

"D," "D," "D."

# Dee, dee, dee #



   

                   

When I heard of this,

I could not believe it.



   

                   

Now I see it.

I still cannot believe it.



   

                   

It is a scientific expedition.



   

                   

Here is a... a list

of the party we have.



   

                   

The Australian sun will

scorch your congregation...



   

                   

as though they are

in hell itself.



   

                   

How kind of you to come

all the way from Parramatta to tell me this.



   

                   

Have you become

so sarcastic?



   

                   

- It is to be built beneath a tree.

- Fiddlesticks!



   

                   

A shady tree

in a cool aspect.



   

                   

It will be as hot as hell!



   

                   

And where will

the rector change his vestments?



   

                   

He is like a fish in an aquarium

for everyone to see!



   

                   

- Please! Be calm.

- You had such a start in life...



   

                   

and now this...

this... folly.



   

                   

Look at it. Please.



   

                   

Calmly.



   

                   

It's so beautiful.



   

                   

This celebrates God's name.



   

                   

They will fry.

They will curse God's name.



   

                   

You don't look well,

girlie.



   

                   

He has condemned himself

to everlasting hellfire.



   

                   

He has cast himself out from those

who can ask God's forgiveness.



   

                   

What brought your friend,

the Reverend Stratton, to this pass...



   

                   

- Oh, forgive me.

- We can only conjecture.



   

                   

Forgive me,

Almighty God.



   

                   

No.



   

                   

- Mr. Jeffris.

- Miss Leplastrier.



   

                   

- Mr. Hopkins.

- I am offering you a bonus.



   

                   

Mr. Hopkins will give this to you

when he has been safely delivered.



   

                   

Please, no.



   

                   

As you wish.



   

                   

So?



   

                   

So?



   

                   

- Mr. Hopkins, if you please.

- Oh, dear.



   

                   

- Well, surely he can wait.

- Mr. Hopkins must lead the expedition.



   

                   

The Lord keep you safe.



   

                   

The legal document

of our wager.



   

                   

I, uh, have this for you.



   

                   

You...



   

                   

Go.



   

                   

Good-bye.



   

                   

When Oscar first

talked of going overland...



   

                   

he had not known

there were six rivers to cross...



   

                   

the Macleay, the Hastings,

the Clarence, the Manning...



   

                   

the Hunter and the Namoi.



   

                   

He was sick with fear

at the thing he had begun.



   

                   

Smith!



   

                   

- Help!

- Smith!



   

                   

- Help.

- Help me, man. He's having a fit.



   

                   

- Help. No! No!

- Hold his head. Hold his head.



   

                   

No!



   

                   

Help!



   

                   

You are to supervise him at all times.



   

                   

You're not to let him

out of your sight.



   

                   

When you hold your cock,

you will have your eye on him.



   

                   

When you wipe

your arsehole...



   

                   

you will have your hand

around his ankle.



   

                   

When there are rivers

to be forded...



   

                   

you will administer five fluid ounces

of the laudanum.



   

                   

- Do I make myself clear?

- And my duties as collector of animals?



   

                   

All other duties

are second to this one.



   

                   

That she did not open

Oscar's letter was not forgetfulness.



   

                   

She did not wish to weep.



   

                   

They would carry him safely...



   

                   

and they would

bring him back.



   

                   

I dare not hope, and yet I must...



   

                   

that through this deed

I gain your trust.



   

                   

You had my trust.



   

                   

Oh, you fool.



   

                   

My darling.



   

                   

Lucinda did not know

it would be four weeks...



   

                   

before the next steamer

left for Bellingen.



   

                   

Come on, you!



   

                   

- One, two, three.

- Heave!



   

                   

- Lift! Lift it, you sophomores!

- One, two, three.



   

                   

- Heave!

- Get those horses up here, man!



   

                   

- One, two, three.

- Heave!



   

                   

- Lift it!

- Move this thing!



   

                   

- Does your throat still pain you?

- It is not so bad.



   

                   

If I coat the funnel with wax

when you have your fits...



   

                   

- I had no fit.

- I found you in one.



   

                   

That damn church of yours, sir,

is costing us time.



   

                   

He forced his medicine upon me.

I had no fit.



   

                   

He fears your phobia,

that you'll throw yourself into the water.



   

                   

He fears he will lose

his bonus.



   

                   

But he will not lose me.

I shall be here until the end.



   

                   

I... I have much

to live for.



   

                   

One, two, three!



   

                   

- Heave!

- Put your backs into it!



   

                   

Come on! Some muscle!



   

                   

Heave!



   

                   

Well done, lads!



   

                   

Shush. You be quiet now.



   

                   

Blacks! Blacks!

Niggers! Captain!



   

                   

- How many?

- There's hundreds of them!



   

                   

Simpson, you go over the top.

Dalton, watch the provisions.



   

                   

One man secure the horses.

The rest of you with me.



   

                   

- By the rocks!

- Come on, lads! On the double!



   

                   

No!



   

                   

- Get him off of me! Tie him up.

- Talk to them! Talk to them!



   

                   

- No! Stop! No!

- Take the bastards!



   

                   

No! No!



   

                   

Come on, lads.



   

                   

Come along.



   

                   

Hyah! Head 'em up.

Head 'em up.



   

                   

How goes life in

the ladies' compartment?



   

                   

What do you say to this,

the countryside?



   

                   

If it was my country, sir...



   

                   

I'd be feared

to see you coming.



   

                   

Hyah!

Get on! Get on!



   

                   

Oh, God, man, surely you're

not gonna drink with them?



   

                   

I have already

traveled with them.



   

                   

Who's the great streak

of misery over there not drinking?



   

                   

He's a padre.



   

                   

Come to bring God to all you

bastard sons of Bellingen.



   

                   

Bastard son? Bastard daughter, likely.



   

                   

- Lord help us.

- Take this over to him. Keep your eye on him.



   

                   

He's not to leave.



   

                   

Step through.



   

                   

Dip your wee white toe

in the holy well.



   

                   

Compliments

of Sir Roger Rogerer...



   

                   

and Lord Pupslaughter.



   

                   

Oh, great. He's going walkabout.



   

                   

How thin...

my wrist is.



   

                   

This wrist God made me.



   

                   

How could I smite him?



   

                   

That's right, Father.

Give us a sermon on the mount!



   

                   

I will...



   

                   

play you poker.



   

                   

And I will win.



   

                   

- This money will be your gift

to God's work in Bellingen.

- No!



   

                   

I have a pot of £   !



   

                   

I forbid this!



   

                   

I would shoot you dead

and go to hell for it.



   

                   

You murderer.



   

                   

The Lord is my shepherd.

I shall not want.



   

                   

He makest a table for me

in the presence of mine enemies.



   

                   

- Out.

- I warn you.



   

                   

Get out of here!



   

                   

Damn you!



   

                   

Percy...



   

                   

did I...

not murder a man?



   

                   

We did.



   

                   

And...



   

                   

- where is our party?

- They're off.



   

                   

Gone south.



   

                   

In pursuit

of Mr. Jeffris.



   

                   

He went off with their pay, they believe,

so they've chased after him.



   

                   

- Oh, Lord.

- Whoa!



   

                   

Whoa! Whoa. There, there.

There, there.



   

                   

You must not fear.



   

                   

- I have killed a man.

- 'Tis a bad man we have killed.



   

                   

Your maker will forgive you.



   

                   

In truth, I'd have felt more sorrow

if you'd slain a beast.



   

                   

They were nice enough

to leave us tea and sugar and a billy.



   

                   

For the rest,

they were in too much of a hurry.



   

                   

Our church.



   

                   

Look around you!



   

                   

I'll take Bubba, Miriam.

Alice, bonnet, please.



   

                   

It's tempting fate to have thrown away

your widow's weeds.



   

                   

Why? I have no one

left to mourn.



   

                   

My father, my mother,

my husband... all gone.



   

                   

If you'd nabbed

young Reverend Hasset.



   

                   

I did not attempt

to nab him.



   

                   

Although he's been

properly nabbed now.



   

                   

- Jealousy killed the cat.

- Curiosity.



   

                   

Ted. Ted, wait a minute.

Don't forget to do the butter.



   

                   

Not jealousy.



   

                   

O Lord...



   

                   

all thy glory surrounds me...



   

                   

but I am afraid.



   

                   

O Lord. Lord, I thank thee

for granting me this day.



   

                   

The newly-married

Dennis Hasset thought many things at once...



   

                   

that it was a miracle...



   

                   

a broken thing...



   

                   

a tragedy...



   

                   

a dream.



   

                   

Lucinda.



   

                   

- Are we there, Percy?

- Yes. They're all waiting.



   

                   

There you are,

Mr. Hopkins.



   

                   

Safe and dry.



   

                   

Thank you, Percy.



   

                   

I will go alone now.



   

                   

Sir.



   

                   

The Reverend Mr. Hasset?



   

                   

Yes.



   

                   

Then...

it is my pleasure, sir...



   

                   

to present this splendid

glass church to you.



   

                   

It is a gift

to the people of Bellingen...



   

                   

all these people...



   

                   

from the most...



   

                   

wonderful woman

in New South Wales.



   

                   

How you can

stand there, sir...



   

                   

while Miss Leplastrier

pines in Sydney...



   

                   

is quite beyond my...



   

                   

my...



   

                   

Come with me.



   

                   

Mrs. Chadwick,

would you help us?



   

                   

Yes. Yes, certainly.



   

                   

I must hurry home

before my wife hears...



   

                   

all this puffed up

by gossips.



   

                   

Would you be a good Samaritan?

Here's a crown. Buy bandages...



   

                   

Whatever he needs. And here are the keys

to the meeting room.



   

                   

Lock the door to keep out

the busybodies.



   

                   

Can you manage?

Will Mrs. Trevis permit you?



   

                   

Dear Dennis, you must

hurry home to Mary.



   

                   

Leave this wounded

soul to me.



   

                   

Oh, you poor, poor man.



   

                   

What trials have you

been through?



   

                   

There, there.

There, there.



   

                   

Up we go.



   

                   

Although his whole heart

cried out for Lucinda...



   

                   

Oscar believed that he would have to marry

this woman he had compromised.



   

                   

It did not occur to him

that she had compromised him.



   

                   

- Till tomorrow.

- That he had been... nabbed.



   

                   

Forgive me...



   

                   

Almighty God...



   

                   

for the murder

of the blacks.



   

                   

Forgive me for...



   

                   

the death of...

of Mr. Stratton.



   

                   

Forgive me for the murder

of Mr. Jeffris.



   

                   

Forgive me, Almighty God,

for the...



   

                   

seduction of Mrs. Chadwick.



   

                   

For... For...



   

                   

Forgive me for my pride.



   

                   

And forgive me for...



   

                   

my ignorance.



   

                   

Forgive me...



   

                   

for betraying...



   

                   

Lucinda...



   

                   

and...



   

                   

my... my father.



   

                   

Will...



   

                   

Will we never again

stand together?



   

                   

Forgive me.



   

                   

Forgive me!



   

                   

Help!



   

                   

No!



   

                   

Help! Help!



   

                   

Help me!



   

                   

Help me!



   

                   

Help!



   

                   

Help!



   

                   

Help!



   

                   

Thanks be to God

for giving us his Son, the Lord Jesus Christ.



   

                   

Therefore, my beloved brethren,

be steadfast, unmovable...



   

                   

always abounding

in the work of the Lord...



   

                   

for as much as ye know

that your labor is not in vain for the Lord.



   

                   

Man that is born of woman

hath but a short time to live...



   

                   

and is full of misery.



   

                   

He cometh up and is cut down

like a flower.



   

                   

He fleeth as it were a shadow

and never continueth in one stay.



   

                   

In the midst oflife,

we are in death.



   

                   

Of whom may we seek for succor,

but of thee, O Lord...



   

                   

who for our sins

arejustly displeased?



   

                   

Yet, O Lord God, Most Holy...



   

                   

O Lord, Most Mighty,

O Holy and Most Merciful Savior...



   

                   

deliver us not into the bitter

pains of eternal death.



   

                   

Thou knowest, Lord,

the secrets of our hearts.



   

                   

Shut not thy merciful ears

to our prayer...



   

                   

but spare us,

Lord, Most Holy...



   

                   

O God, Most Mighty,

O Holy and Merciful Savior...



   

                   

that thou most worthy

judge eternal.



   

                   

Suffer us not

at our last hour...



   

                   

for any pains of death

to fall from thee.



   

                   

Would you care for our church?



   

                   

We could surely

have it made useful...



   

                   

with some weatherboards

attached or some such.



   

                   

What a gift that would be.

I shall hold you to that.



   

                   

Thank you.



   

                   

If Miriam had known

of Oscar's wager with Lucinda...



   

                   

she would have moved heaven and earth

to claim Lucinda's fortune.



   

                   

Before

my great-grandmother died...



   

                   

she had time to see that her baby had

the same red hair as his father.



   

                   

Oscar Theophilus Peter...



   

                   

I baptize thee...



   

                   

in the name of the Father

and of the Son...



   

                   

and of the Holy Ghost.



   

                   

Amen.



   

                   

We receive this child into

the congregation of Christ...



   

                   

and do sign him

with the sign of the cross.



   

                   

When Dennis Hasset

told Lucinda the baby's history...



   

                   

she had only

one thought in mind.



   

                   

A dream, a lie...



   

                   

a wager... love.



   

                   

This is the story Lucinda

gave to my grandfather...



   

                   

and I give to you.



   

                   

All right. Let's go home.

Yeah? Check for rocks.









 
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