You're undergoing delirium tremens.
Do you know what that is, Mr. Melrose?
It...rings a bell.
Then you'll know what to expect.
There may be some hallucinations.
We'll get you something to stabilize your heart,
stop you having seizures.
- I'm going to die. - You are not going to die.
I don't mind. I want to die.
I want to die, I want to die.
I want to die.
Oh, Christ. It's the Spiritual Tool Box.
What a great choice for Eleanor.
And a fitting reminder, too, of her incredibly strong connection
with the African-American people.
All of you will have known Eleanor here today
and...if my Eleanor... is not yours
then, all I can say is...
..Let her in.
Let her in.
I first met Eleanor when a group of us
from the Dublin Women's Healing Drum Circle
traveled down to her wonderful house in Provence,
which many of you know well.
When we arrived
we saw her sitting on the wall of the terrace,
hands tucked under her thighs,
looking for all the world like a lonely young child,
dreaming of the future.
Soon she had flung wide her arms to welcome us,
but I never forgot
that first impression of her child-like innocence...
I can never forget he's David's son.
Does he remind you of him?
In flashes... when he's angry or sarcastic.
Which thankfully is less often now.
Does he talk to you about him?
I don't think his father haunts him the way he once did.
I'm gonna catch you.
May I show you something, in private?
I get an awful lot of letters,
usually people asking for a helping hand.
And I give it if I can, but... this is something different.
She stayed here as a child.
She seems...deeply damaged.
I mean, clearly she's a very unhappy woman -
the alcohol, the depression.
But, honestly, to lay this at my door.
- Do you remember her? - Of course!
The family were charming.
She was a bright and happy little girl.
David could be harsh, but the children were always safe.
He was better with children, playful even,
as long as they weren't too noisy.
All I know is the family seemed very happy.
They... They told me they'd had a lovely time.
She says your husband interfered with her.
But how could he?
I mean, it was inconceivable
- No suspicions? - No.
None at all. And that's what makes me so angry.
"I forgive you."
She forgives me for not protecting her, but how could I?
I mean, this is behavior I didn't even know existed.
Here we go.
You mustn't mention a word of this.
It will only unsettle him...
all this talk of...
blame and forgiveness.
I know what a tyrant his father could be,
but I did my best -
my very, very best to protect our son.
Are you awake?
The things...you told me, when we met.
About your father.
- What's brought this on? - We have to talk about them again.
Well, I don't think I have anything further to add so...
I think... you should tell your mother.
I'm sorry, I know it's hard.
I know you don't want to.
- Well, why then? - Because...
She can't keep hiding.
"When I was a child
I spake as a child.
I understood as a child.
When I became a man,
I put away childish things.
For now I see through a glass, darkly.
But then, face to face, now I know in part..."
Christ, not this old chestnut.
Who's on next?
- Patrick. - "..And now abideth faith,
hope, love, these three.
But the greatest of these... is love."
- Mind if I join? - Please.
I've been trying out different combinations of words,
and none of them are right,
so perhaps if I don't think too much and just come out with it.
When we were here...
..When I was a child, and we used to come here...
and for some years afterwards...
..He used to rape me.
I... I haven't prepared a speech.
As you'll see.
A lot has been said today about my mother's innocence,
and how child-like she...
All I know is that when I was a child...
..When my father was...
Why didn't she...
Why... Why couldn't... Why couldn't she...
对不起 对不起 我不行...
I'm sorry. I'm sorry, I can't...
I can't do this...I can't!
I swear, if I hear one more person
telling me how innocent she was--
She might not have been,
-但现在不能感情用事 -玛丽 别
- but even so it's an emotional time-- - Please, Mary, no.
不不不 闭嘴 这无关悲痛或哀悼
No, no, no. Stop! This is not grief or mourning.
This is rage, my heart is racing with it.
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