ACT III.

ACT III.Scene:Same as Acts I. and II.EnterDaphne.Daph.It seems Pygmalionhasthe fearful giftOf bringing stone to life. I’ll question himAnd ascertain how far that power extends.EnterMyrine, weeping.Myrine—and in tears! Why, what’s amiss?Myr.Oh, we were all so happy yesterday,And now, within twelve miserable hours,A blight has fallen upon all of us.Pygmalion is blind as death itself,Cynisca leaves his home this very day,And my Leucippe hath deserted me!I shall go mad with all this weight of grief!Daph.All this is Galatea’s work?Myr.Yes, all.Daph.But can’t you stop her? Shut the creature up,Dispose of her, or break her? Won’t she chip?Myr.No, I’m afraid not.Daph.Ah, were I his wife,I’d spoil her beauty! There’d be little chanceOf finding him and her alone again!Myr.There’s little need to take precautions now,For he, alas! is blind!Daph.Blind! What of that?Man has five senses; if he loses oneThe vital energy on which it fedGoes to intensify the other four.He had five arrows in his quiver; well,He has shot one away, and four remain.My dear, an enemy is not disarmedBecause he’s lost one arrow out of five!Myr.The punishment he undergoes might wellContent his wife!Daph.A happy woman, that!Myr.Cynisca happy?Daph.To be sure she is;She has the power to punish faithlessness,And she has used it on her faithless spouse.Had I Cynisca’s privilege, I swearI’d never let my Chrysos rest in peace,Until he warranted my using it!Pygmalion’s wronged her, and she’s punished him.What more could woman want?EnterCynisca.Cyn.What more? Why, this!The power to tame my tongue to speak the wordsThat would restore him to his former self!The power to quell the fierce, unruly soulThat battles with my miserable heart!The power to say, “Oh, my Pygmalion,My love is thine to hold or cast away,Do with it as thou wilt; it can not die!”I’d barter half my miserable lifeFor power to say these few true words to him!Myr.Why, then there’s hope for him?Cyn.There’s none indeed!This day I’ll leave his home and hide awayWhere I can brood upon my shame. I’ll fanThe smoldering fire of jealousy untilIt bursts into an all-devouring flame,And pray that I may perish in its glow!Daph.That’s bravely said, Cynisca! Never fear;Pygmalion will give thee wherewithalTo nurture it.Cyn.(passionately).I need not wherewithal!I carry wherewithal within my heart!Oh, I can conjure up the scene at willWhen he and she sit lovingly alone.I know too well the devilish art he works,And how his guilty passion shapes itself.I follow him through every twist and turnBy which he wormed himself intomyheart;I hear him breathing to the guilty girlThe fond familiar nothings ofourlove;I hear him whispering intoherearThe tenderness that he rehearsed on me.I follow him through all his well-known moods—Now fierce and passionate, now fanciful;And ever tuning his accursed tongueTo chime in with the passion at her heart:Oh, never fear that I shall starve the flame!When jealousy takes shelter inmyheart,It does not die for lack of sustenance!Daph.Come to my home, and thou shalt feed it there;We’ll play at widows, and we’ll pass our timeRailing against the perfidy of man.Cyn.But Chrysos?—Daph.Chrysos? Oh, you won’t see him.Cyn.How so?Daph.How so? I’ve turned him out of doors!Why, does the girl consider jealousyHer unassailable prerogative?Thou hast thy vengeance on Pygmalion—He can no longer feast uponthyface.Well, Chrysos can no longer feast on mine!I can’tput outhis eyes (I wish I could!)But I canshutthem out, and that I’ve done.Cyn.I thank you, madam, and I’ll go with you.Myr.No, no; thou shalt not leave Pygmalion;He will not live if thou desertest him.Add nothing to his pain—this second blowMight well complete the work thou hast begun!Cyn.Nay, let me go—I must not see his face;For if I look on him I may relent.Detain me not, Myrine—fare thee well![ExitCynisca,Myrinefollows her.Daph.Well, there’ll be pretty scenes in Athens nowThat statues may be vivified at will. (Chrysosenters unobserved.)Why, I have daughters—all of them of age—What chance is there for plain young women, nowThat every man may take a block of stoneAnd carve a family to suit his tastes?Chry.If every woman were a Daphne, manWould never care to look on sculptured stone!Oh, Daphne!Daph.Monster—get you hence, away!I’ll hold no converse with you, get you gone.(Aside) If I’d Cynisca’s tongue I’d wither him!(ImitatingCynisca) “Oh, I can conjure up the scene at will“Where you and she sit lovingly alone!“Oh, never fear that I will starve the flame:“When jealousy takes shelter inmyheart,“It does not die for lack of sustenance!”Chry.I’m sure of that! your hospitalityIs world-renowned. Extend it, love, to me!Oh, take me home again!Daph.Home? no, not I!Why I’ve a gallery of goddesses,Fifty at least—half-dressed bacchantes, too—Dryads and water-nymphs of every kind;Suppose I find, when I go home to-day,That they’ve all taken it intotheirheadsTo come to life—what would become of them,Or me, with Chrysos in the house? No—no,They’re bad enough in marble—but in flesh!!!I’ll sell the bold-faced hussies one and all,But till I’ve sold them, Chrysos stops outside!Chry.WhathaveI done?Daph.What have younotdone sir?Chry.I can not tell you—it would take too long!Daph.I saw you sitting with that marble minx,Your arm pressed lovingly around her waist.ExplainthatChrysos.Chry.It explains itself:I am a zealous patron of the arts.And I am very fond of statuary.Daph.Bah—I’ve artistic tastes as well as you.But still, you never sawmesitting withMy arms around a stone Apollo’s waist!As for this “statue”—could I see her now,I’d test your taste for fragments!Chry.Spare the girl,She’s very young and very innocent;She claims your pity.Daph.Doesshe?Chry.Yes, she does.If I saw Daphne sitting with her armRound an Apollo, I should pityhim.Daph.(relenting). Would you?Chry.I should, upon my word, I should.Daph.Well, Chrysos, thou art pardoned. After allThe circumstances were exceptional.Chry.(aside). Unhappily, they were!Daph.Come home, but mindI’ll sell my gallery of goddesses;No good can come of animating stone.Chry.Oh, pardon me—why every soul on earthSprang from the stones Deucalion threw behind.Daph.But then Deucalion onlythrewthe stones,He left it to the gods to fashion them.Chry.(aside—looking at her). And we who’ve seen the work the gods turn out,Would rather leave it to Pygmalion!Daph.(takingChrysos’arm, who is looking at a statue of Venus.)Come along, do![Exeunt.EnterMyrine, in great distress.Myr.Pygmalion’s heard that he must lose his wife,And swears, by all the gods that reign above,He will not live if she deserts him now!What—what is to be done?EnterGalatea.Gal.Myrine here!Where is Pygmalion?Myr.Oh, wretched girl!Art thou not satisfied with all the illThy heedlessness has worked, that thou art comeTo gaze upon thy victim’s misery?Well, thou hast come in time!Gal.What dost thou mean?Myr.Why this is what I mean—he will not liveNow that Cynisca has deserted him.Oh, girl, his blood will be upon thy head!Gal.Pygmalion will not live! Pygmalion die!And I, alas, the miserable cause!Oh, what is to be done?Myr.I do not know.And yet there is one chance, but one alone;I’ll see Cynisca, and prevail on herTo meet Pygmalion but once again.Gal.(wildly). But should she come too late? He may not liveTill she returns.Myr.I’ll send him now to thee,And tell him that his wife awaits him here.He’ll take thee for Cynisca; when he speaks,Answer thou him as if thou wast his wife.Gal.Yes, yes, I understand.Myr.Then I’ll be gone.The gods assist thee in this artifice![ExitMyrine.Gal.The gods will help me, for the gods are good.Oh, Heaven, in this great grief I turn to thee.Teach me to speak to him, as, ere I lived,Cynisca spake to him. Oh, let my voiceBe to Pygmalion as Cynisca’s voice,And he will live—for her and not for me—Yet he will live. I am the fountain headEnterPygmalion, unobserved, led byMyrine.Of all the horrors that surround him now,And it is fit that I should suffer this;Grant this, my first appeal—I do not askPygmalion’s love; I ask Pygmalion’s life!(Pygmalionutters an exclamation of joy. She rushes to him and seizes his hand.)Pygmalion!Pyg.I have no words in whichTo tell the joy with which I heard that prayer.Oh, take me to thine arms, my dearly loved!And teach me once again how much I riskedIn risking such a heaven-sent love as thine.Gal.(believing that he refers to her). Pygmalion! my love! Pygmalion!Once more those words! again! say them again!Tell me that thou forgivest me the illThat I unwittingly have worked on thee!Pyg.Forgivethee? Why, my wife, I did not dareTo askthypardon, and thou askest mine,The compact with thy mistress ArtemisGave thee a heaven-sent right to punish me.I’ve learnt to take whate’er the gods may send.(Galatea, at first delighted, learns in the course of this speech thatPygmaliontakes her forCynisca, and expresses extreme anguish.)Gal.(with an effort.) But then, this woman, Galatea—Pyg.Well?Gal.Thy love for her is dead?Pyg.I had no love.Gal.Thou hadst no love?Pyg.No love. At first, in truth,In mad amazement at the miracleThat crowned my handiwork, and brought to lifeThe fair creation of my sculptor’s skill,I yielded to her god-sent influence,For I had worshiped her before she livedBecause she called Cynisca’s face to me;But when she lived—that love died, word by word.Gal.That is well said; thou dost not love her then?She is no more to thee than senseless stone?Pyg.Speak not of her, Cynisca, for I swearEnterCynisca, unobserved.The unhewn marble of PentelicusHath charms for me, which she, in all her glowOf womanly perfection, could not match.Gal.I’m very glad to hear that this is so.Thou art forgiven! (Kisses his forehead.)Pyg.Thou hast pardoned me,And though the law of Artemis declaredThy pardon should restore to me the lightThine anger took away, I would be blind,I would not have mine eyes lest they should restOn her who caused me all this bitterness!Gal.Indeed, Pygmalion—’twere better thus—If thou couldst look on Galatea now,Thy love for her, perchance, might come again!Pyg.No, no.Gal.They say that she endureth painsThat mock the power of words!Pyg.It should be so!Gal.Hast thounopity for her?Pyg.No, not I.The ill that she hath worked on thee—on me—And on Myrine—surely were enoughTo make us curse the hour that gave her life.She is not fit to live upon this world!Gal.(bitterly). Upon this worthy world, thou sayest well,The woman shall be seen of thee no more. (TakesCynisca’shand and leads her toPyg.)What wouldst thou with her now?Thou hast thy wife!(She substitutesCynisca, and retires, weeping.Cyniscatakes him to her arms and kisses him. He recovers his sight.)Pyg.Cynisca! see! the light of day is mine!Once more I look upon thy well-loved face!EnterMyrineandLeucippe.Leu.Pygmalion! Thou hast thine eyes again!Come—this is happiness indeed!Pyg.And thou!Myrine has recalled thee?Leu.No, I came,But more in sorrow than in penitence;For I’ve a hardened and a blood-stained heart!I thought she would denounce me to the law,But time, I found, had worked a wondrous change;The very girl, who half-a-day agoHad cursed me for a ruthless murderer,Not only pardoned me my infamy,But absolutely hugged me with delight,When she, with hungry and unpitying eyes,Beheld my victim—at the kitchen fire!The little cannibal!EnterGalatea.Pyg.Away from me,Woman or statue! Thou the only blightThat ever fell upon my love—begone,For thou hast been the curse of all who fellWithin the compass of thy waywardness!Cyn.No, no—recall those words, Pygmalion,Thou knowest not all.Gal.Nay—let me go from him;That curse—hiscurse—still ringing in mine ears,For life is bitterer to me than death. (She mounts the steps of pedestal.)Farewell, Pygmalion! Farewell! Farewell!(The curtains conceal her.)Cyn.Thou art unjust to her as I to thee!Herswas the voice that pardoned thee—not mine.I knew no pity till she taught it me.I heard the words she spoke, and little thoughtThat they would find an echo in my heart;But so it was. I took them for mine own,And asking for thy pardon, pardoned thee!Pyg.(amazed). Cynisca! Is this so?Cyn.In truth it is!Gal.(behind curtain). Farewell, Pygmalion! Farewell! Farewell!(Pygmalionrushes to the veil and tears it away, discoveringGalateaas a statue on the pedestal, as in Act I.)

Scene:Same as Acts I. and II.EnterDaphne.Daph.It seems Pygmalionhasthe fearful giftOf bringing stone to life. I’ll question himAnd ascertain how far that power extends.EnterMyrine, weeping.Myrine—and in tears! Why, what’s amiss?Myr.Oh, we were all so happy yesterday,And now, within twelve miserable hours,A blight has fallen upon all of us.Pygmalion is blind as death itself,Cynisca leaves his home this very day,And my Leucippe hath deserted me!I shall go mad with all this weight of grief!Daph.All this is Galatea’s work?Myr.Yes, all.Daph.But can’t you stop her? Shut the creature up,Dispose of her, or break her? Won’t she chip?Myr.No, I’m afraid not.Daph.Ah, were I his wife,I’d spoil her beauty! There’d be little chanceOf finding him and her alone again!Myr.There’s little need to take precautions now,For he, alas! is blind!Daph.Blind! What of that?Man has five senses; if he loses oneThe vital energy on which it fedGoes to intensify the other four.He had five arrows in his quiver; well,He has shot one away, and four remain.My dear, an enemy is not disarmedBecause he’s lost one arrow out of five!Myr.The punishment he undergoes might wellContent his wife!Daph.A happy woman, that!Myr.Cynisca happy?Daph.To be sure she is;She has the power to punish faithlessness,And she has used it on her faithless spouse.Had I Cynisca’s privilege, I swearI’d never let my Chrysos rest in peace,Until he warranted my using it!Pygmalion’s wronged her, and she’s punished him.What more could woman want?EnterCynisca.Cyn.What more? Why, this!The power to tame my tongue to speak the wordsThat would restore him to his former self!The power to quell the fierce, unruly soulThat battles with my miserable heart!The power to say, “Oh, my Pygmalion,My love is thine to hold or cast away,Do with it as thou wilt; it can not die!”I’d barter half my miserable lifeFor power to say these few true words to him!Myr.Why, then there’s hope for him?Cyn.There’s none indeed!This day I’ll leave his home and hide awayWhere I can brood upon my shame. I’ll fanThe smoldering fire of jealousy untilIt bursts into an all-devouring flame,And pray that I may perish in its glow!Daph.That’s bravely said, Cynisca! Never fear;Pygmalion will give thee wherewithalTo nurture it.Cyn.(passionately).I need not wherewithal!I carry wherewithal within my heart!Oh, I can conjure up the scene at willWhen he and she sit lovingly alone.I know too well the devilish art he works,And how his guilty passion shapes itself.I follow him through every twist and turnBy which he wormed himself intomyheart;I hear him breathing to the guilty girlThe fond familiar nothings ofourlove;I hear him whispering intoherearThe tenderness that he rehearsed on me.I follow him through all his well-known moods—Now fierce and passionate, now fanciful;And ever tuning his accursed tongueTo chime in with the passion at her heart:Oh, never fear that I shall starve the flame!When jealousy takes shelter inmyheart,It does not die for lack of sustenance!Daph.Come to my home, and thou shalt feed it there;We’ll play at widows, and we’ll pass our timeRailing against the perfidy of man.Cyn.But Chrysos?—Daph.Chrysos? Oh, you won’t see him.Cyn.How so?Daph.How so? I’ve turned him out of doors!Why, does the girl consider jealousyHer unassailable prerogative?Thou hast thy vengeance on Pygmalion—He can no longer feast uponthyface.Well, Chrysos can no longer feast on mine!I can’tput outhis eyes (I wish I could!)But I canshutthem out, and that I’ve done.Cyn.I thank you, madam, and I’ll go with you.Myr.No, no; thou shalt not leave Pygmalion;He will not live if thou desertest him.Add nothing to his pain—this second blowMight well complete the work thou hast begun!Cyn.Nay, let me go—I must not see his face;For if I look on him I may relent.Detain me not, Myrine—fare thee well![ExitCynisca,Myrinefollows her.Daph.Well, there’ll be pretty scenes in Athens nowThat statues may be vivified at will. (Chrysosenters unobserved.)Why, I have daughters—all of them of age—What chance is there for plain young women, nowThat every man may take a block of stoneAnd carve a family to suit his tastes?Chry.If every woman were a Daphne, manWould never care to look on sculptured stone!Oh, Daphne!Daph.Monster—get you hence, away!I’ll hold no converse with you, get you gone.(Aside) If I’d Cynisca’s tongue I’d wither him!(ImitatingCynisca) “Oh, I can conjure up the scene at will“Where you and she sit lovingly alone!“Oh, never fear that I will starve the flame:“When jealousy takes shelter inmyheart,“It does not die for lack of sustenance!”Chry.I’m sure of that! your hospitalityIs world-renowned. Extend it, love, to me!Oh, take me home again!Daph.Home? no, not I!Why I’ve a gallery of goddesses,Fifty at least—half-dressed bacchantes, too—Dryads and water-nymphs of every kind;Suppose I find, when I go home to-day,That they’ve all taken it intotheirheadsTo come to life—what would become of them,Or me, with Chrysos in the house? No—no,They’re bad enough in marble—but in flesh!!!I’ll sell the bold-faced hussies one and all,But till I’ve sold them, Chrysos stops outside!Chry.WhathaveI done?Daph.What have younotdone sir?Chry.I can not tell you—it would take too long!Daph.I saw you sitting with that marble minx,Your arm pressed lovingly around her waist.ExplainthatChrysos.Chry.It explains itself:I am a zealous patron of the arts.And I am very fond of statuary.Daph.Bah—I’ve artistic tastes as well as you.But still, you never sawmesitting withMy arms around a stone Apollo’s waist!As for this “statue”—could I see her now,I’d test your taste for fragments!Chry.Spare the girl,She’s very young and very innocent;She claims your pity.Daph.Doesshe?Chry.Yes, she does.If I saw Daphne sitting with her armRound an Apollo, I should pityhim.Daph.(relenting). Would you?Chry.I should, upon my word, I should.Daph.Well, Chrysos, thou art pardoned. After allThe circumstances were exceptional.Chry.(aside). Unhappily, they were!Daph.Come home, but mindI’ll sell my gallery of goddesses;No good can come of animating stone.Chry.Oh, pardon me—why every soul on earthSprang from the stones Deucalion threw behind.Daph.But then Deucalion onlythrewthe stones,He left it to the gods to fashion them.Chry.(aside—looking at her). And we who’ve seen the work the gods turn out,Would rather leave it to Pygmalion!Daph.(takingChrysos’arm, who is looking at a statue of Venus.)Come along, do![Exeunt.EnterMyrine, in great distress.Myr.Pygmalion’s heard that he must lose his wife,And swears, by all the gods that reign above,He will not live if she deserts him now!What—what is to be done?EnterGalatea.Gal.Myrine here!Where is Pygmalion?Myr.Oh, wretched girl!Art thou not satisfied with all the illThy heedlessness has worked, that thou art comeTo gaze upon thy victim’s misery?Well, thou hast come in time!Gal.What dost thou mean?Myr.Why this is what I mean—he will not liveNow that Cynisca has deserted him.Oh, girl, his blood will be upon thy head!Gal.Pygmalion will not live! Pygmalion die!And I, alas, the miserable cause!Oh, what is to be done?Myr.I do not know.And yet there is one chance, but one alone;I’ll see Cynisca, and prevail on herTo meet Pygmalion but once again.Gal.(wildly). But should she come too late? He may not liveTill she returns.Myr.I’ll send him now to thee,And tell him that his wife awaits him here.He’ll take thee for Cynisca; when he speaks,Answer thou him as if thou wast his wife.Gal.Yes, yes, I understand.Myr.Then I’ll be gone.The gods assist thee in this artifice![ExitMyrine.Gal.The gods will help me, for the gods are good.Oh, Heaven, in this great grief I turn to thee.Teach me to speak to him, as, ere I lived,Cynisca spake to him. Oh, let my voiceBe to Pygmalion as Cynisca’s voice,And he will live—for her and not for me—Yet he will live. I am the fountain headEnterPygmalion, unobserved, led byMyrine.Of all the horrors that surround him now,And it is fit that I should suffer this;Grant this, my first appeal—I do not askPygmalion’s love; I ask Pygmalion’s life!(Pygmalionutters an exclamation of joy. She rushes to him and seizes his hand.)Pygmalion!Pyg.I have no words in whichTo tell the joy with which I heard that prayer.Oh, take me to thine arms, my dearly loved!And teach me once again how much I riskedIn risking such a heaven-sent love as thine.Gal.(believing that he refers to her). Pygmalion! my love! Pygmalion!Once more those words! again! say them again!Tell me that thou forgivest me the illThat I unwittingly have worked on thee!Pyg.Forgivethee? Why, my wife, I did not dareTo askthypardon, and thou askest mine,The compact with thy mistress ArtemisGave thee a heaven-sent right to punish me.I’ve learnt to take whate’er the gods may send.(Galatea, at first delighted, learns in the course of this speech thatPygmaliontakes her forCynisca, and expresses extreme anguish.)Gal.(with an effort.) But then, this woman, Galatea—Pyg.Well?Gal.Thy love for her is dead?Pyg.I had no love.Gal.Thou hadst no love?Pyg.No love. At first, in truth,In mad amazement at the miracleThat crowned my handiwork, and brought to lifeThe fair creation of my sculptor’s skill,I yielded to her god-sent influence,For I had worshiped her before she livedBecause she called Cynisca’s face to me;But when she lived—that love died, word by word.Gal.That is well said; thou dost not love her then?She is no more to thee than senseless stone?Pyg.Speak not of her, Cynisca, for I swearEnterCynisca, unobserved.The unhewn marble of PentelicusHath charms for me, which she, in all her glowOf womanly perfection, could not match.Gal.I’m very glad to hear that this is so.Thou art forgiven! (Kisses his forehead.)Pyg.Thou hast pardoned me,And though the law of Artemis declaredThy pardon should restore to me the lightThine anger took away, I would be blind,I would not have mine eyes lest they should restOn her who caused me all this bitterness!Gal.Indeed, Pygmalion—’twere better thus—If thou couldst look on Galatea now,Thy love for her, perchance, might come again!Pyg.No, no.Gal.They say that she endureth painsThat mock the power of words!Pyg.It should be so!Gal.Hast thounopity for her?Pyg.No, not I.The ill that she hath worked on thee—on me—And on Myrine—surely were enoughTo make us curse the hour that gave her life.She is not fit to live upon this world!Gal.(bitterly). Upon this worthy world, thou sayest well,The woman shall be seen of thee no more. (TakesCynisca’shand and leads her toPyg.)What wouldst thou with her now?Thou hast thy wife!(She substitutesCynisca, and retires, weeping.Cyniscatakes him to her arms and kisses him. He recovers his sight.)Pyg.Cynisca! see! the light of day is mine!Once more I look upon thy well-loved face!EnterMyrineandLeucippe.Leu.Pygmalion! Thou hast thine eyes again!Come—this is happiness indeed!Pyg.And thou!Myrine has recalled thee?Leu.No, I came,But more in sorrow than in penitence;For I’ve a hardened and a blood-stained heart!I thought she would denounce me to the law,But time, I found, had worked a wondrous change;The very girl, who half-a-day agoHad cursed me for a ruthless murderer,Not only pardoned me my infamy,But absolutely hugged me with delight,When she, with hungry and unpitying eyes,Beheld my victim—at the kitchen fire!The little cannibal!EnterGalatea.Pyg.Away from me,Woman or statue! Thou the only blightThat ever fell upon my love—begone,For thou hast been the curse of all who fellWithin the compass of thy waywardness!Cyn.No, no—recall those words, Pygmalion,Thou knowest not all.Gal.Nay—let me go from him;That curse—hiscurse—still ringing in mine ears,For life is bitterer to me than death. (She mounts the steps of pedestal.)Farewell, Pygmalion! Farewell! Farewell!(The curtains conceal her.)Cyn.Thou art unjust to her as I to thee!Herswas the voice that pardoned thee—not mine.I knew no pity till she taught it me.I heard the words she spoke, and little thoughtThat they would find an echo in my heart;But so it was. I took them for mine own,And asking for thy pardon, pardoned thee!Pyg.(amazed). Cynisca! Is this so?Cyn.In truth it is!Gal.(behind curtain). Farewell, Pygmalion! Farewell! Farewell!(Pygmalionrushes to the veil and tears it away, discoveringGalateaas a statue on the pedestal, as in Act I.)

Scene:Same as Acts I. and II.

EnterDaphne.

Daph.It seems Pygmalionhasthe fearful giftOf bringing stone to life. I’ll question himAnd ascertain how far that power extends.

Daph.It seems Pygmalionhasthe fearful gift

Of bringing stone to life. I’ll question him

And ascertain how far that power extends.

EnterMyrine, weeping.

Myrine—and in tears! Why, what’s amiss?

Myr.Oh, we were all so happy yesterday,And now, within twelve miserable hours,A blight has fallen upon all of us.Pygmalion is blind as death itself,Cynisca leaves his home this very day,And my Leucippe hath deserted me!I shall go mad with all this weight of grief!

Myr.Oh, we were all so happy yesterday,

And now, within twelve miserable hours,

A blight has fallen upon all of us.

Pygmalion is blind as death itself,

Cynisca leaves his home this very day,

And my Leucippe hath deserted me!

I shall go mad with all this weight of grief!

Daph.All this is Galatea’s work?

Myr.Yes, all.

Daph.But can’t you stop her? Shut the creature up,Dispose of her, or break her? Won’t she chip?

Daph.But can’t you stop her? Shut the creature up,

Dispose of her, or break her? Won’t she chip?

Myr.No, I’m afraid not.

Daph.Ah, were I his wife,I’d spoil her beauty! There’d be little chanceOf finding him and her alone again!

Daph.Ah, were I his wife,

I’d spoil her beauty! There’d be little chance

Of finding him and her alone again!

Myr.There’s little need to take precautions now,For he, alas! is blind!

Myr.There’s little need to take precautions now,

For he, alas! is blind!

Daph.Blind! What of that?Man has five senses; if he loses oneThe vital energy on which it fedGoes to intensify the other four.He had five arrows in his quiver; well,He has shot one away, and four remain.My dear, an enemy is not disarmedBecause he’s lost one arrow out of five!

Daph.Blind! What of that?

Man has five senses; if he loses one

The vital energy on which it fed

Goes to intensify the other four.

He had five arrows in his quiver; well,

He has shot one away, and four remain.

My dear, an enemy is not disarmed

Because he’s lost one arrow out of five!

Myr.The punishment he undergoes might wellContent his wife!

Myr.The punishment he undergoes might well

Content his wife!

Daph.A happy woman, that!

Myr.Cynisca happy?

Daph.To be sure she is;She has the power to punish faithlessness,And she has used it on her faithless spouse.Had I Cynisca’s privilege, I swearI’d never let my Chrysos rest in peace,Until he warranted my using it!Pygmalion’s wronged her, and she’s punished him.What more could woman want?

Daph.To be sure she is;

She has the power to punish faithlessness,

And she has used it on her faithless spouse.

Had I Cynisca’s privilege, I swear

I’d never let my Chrysos rest in peace,

Until he warranted my using it!

Pygmalion’s wronged her, and she’s punished him.

What more could woman want?

EnterCynisca.

Cyn.What more? Why, this!The power to tame my tongue to speak the wordsThat would restore him to his former self!The power to quell the fierce, unruly soulThat battles with my miserable heart!The power to say, “Oh, my Pygmalion,My love is thine to hold or cast away,Do with it as thou wilt; it can not die!”I’d barter half my miserable lifeFor power to say these few true words to him!

Cyn.What more? Why, this!

The power to tame my tongue to speak the words

That would restore him to his former self!

The power to quell the fierce, unruly soul

That battles with my miserable heart!

The power to say, “Oh, my Pygmalion,

My love is thine to hold or cast away,

Do with it as thou wilt; it can not die!”

I’d barter half my miserable life

For power to say these few true words to him!

Myr.Why, then there’s hope for him?

Cyn.There’s none indeed!This day I’ll leave his home and hide awayWhere I can brood upon my shame. I’ll fanThe smoldering fire of jealousy untilIt bursts into an all-devouring flame,And pray that I may perish in its glow!

Cyn.There’s none indeed!

This day I’ll leave his home and hide away

Where I can brood upon my shame. I’ll fan

The smoldering fire of jealousy until

It bursts into an all-devouring flame,

And pray that I may perish in its glow!

Daph.That’s bravely said, Cynisca! Never fear;Pygmalion will give thee wherewithalTo nurture it.

Daph.That’s bravely said, Cynisca! Never fear;

Pygmalion will give thee wherewithal

To nurture it.

Cyn.(passionately).I need not wherewithal!I carry wherewithal within my heart!Oh, I can conjure up the scene at willWhen he and she sit lovingly alone.I know too well the devilish art he works,And how his guilty passion shapes itself.I follow him through every twist and turnBy which he wormed himself intomyheart;I hear him breathing to the guilty girlThe fond familiar nothings ofourlove;I hear him whispering intoherearThe tenderness that he rehearsed on me.I follow him through all his well-known moods—Now fierce and passionate, now fanciful;And ever tuning his accursed tongueTo chime in with the passion at her heart:Oh, never fear that I shall starve the flame!When jealousy takes shelter inmyheart,It does not die for lack of sustenance!

Cyn.(passionately).I need not wherewithal!

I carry wherewithal within my heart!

Oh, I can conjure up the scene at will

When he and she sit lovingly alone.

I know too well the devilish art he works,

And how his guilty passion shapes itself.

I follow him through every twist and turn

By which he wormed himself intomyheart;

I hear him breathing to the guilty girl

The fond familiar nothings ofourlove;

I hear him whispering intoherear

The tenderness that he rehearsed on me.

I follow him through all his well-known moods—

Now fierce and passionate, now fanciful;

And ever tuning his accursed tongue

To chime in with the passion at her heart:

Oh, never fear that I shall starve the flame!

When jealousy takes shelter inmyheart,

It does not die for lack of sustenance!

Daph.Come to my home, and thou shalt feed it there;We’ll play at widows, and we’ll pass our timeRailing against the perfidy of man.

Daph.Come to my home, and thou shalt feed it there;

We’ll play at widows, and we’ll pass our time

Railing against the perfidy of man.

Cyn.But Chrysos?—

Daph.Chrysos? Oh, you won’t see him.

Cyn.How so?

Daph.How so? I’ve turned him out of doors!Why, does the girl consider jealousyHer unassailable prerogative?Thou hast thy vengeance on Pygmalion—He can no longer feast uponthyface.Well, Chrysos can no longer feast on mine!I can’tput outhis eyes (I wish I could!)But I canshutthem out, and that I’ve done.

Daph.How so? I’ve turned him out of doors!

Why, does the girl consider jealousy

Her unassailable prerogative?

Thou hast thy vengeance on Pygmalion—

He can no longer feast uponthyface.

Well, Chrysos can no longer feast on mine!

I can’tput outhis eyes (I wish I could!)

But I canshutthem out, and that I’ve done.

Cyn.I thank you, madam, and I’ll go with you.

Myr.No, no; thou shalt not leave Pygmalion;He will not live if thou desertest him.Add nothing to his pain—this second blowMight well complete the work thou hast begun!

Myr.No, no; thou shalt not leave Pygmalion;

He will not live if thou desertest him.

Add nothing to his pain—this second blow

Might well complete the work thou hast begun!

Cyn.Nay, let me go—I must not see his face;For if I look on him I may relent.Detain me not, Myrine—fare thee well![ExitCynisca,Myrinefollows her.

Cyn.Nay, let me go—I must not see his face;

For if I look on him I may relent.

Detain me not, Myrine—fare thee well!

[ExitCynisca,Myrinefollows her.

Daph.Well, there’ll be pretty scenes in Athens nowThat statues may be vivified at will. (Chrysosenters unobserved.)Why, I have daughters—all of them of age—What chance is there for plain young women, nowThat every man may take a block of stoneAnd carve a family to suit his tastes?

Daph.Well, there’ll be pretty scenes in Athens now

That statues may be vivified at will. (Chrysosenters unobserved.)

Why, I have daughters—all of them of age—

What chance is there for plain young women, now

That every man may take a block of stone

And carve a family to suit his tastes?

Chry.If every woman were a Daphne, manWould never care to look on sculptured stone!Oh, Daphne!

Chry.If every woman were a Daphne, man

Would never care to look on sculptured stone!

Oh, Daphne!

Daph.Monster—get you hence, away!I’ll hold no converse with you, get you gone.(Aside) If I’d Cynisca’s tongue I’d wither him!(ImitatingCynisca) “Oh, I can conjure up the scene at will“Where you and she sit lovingly alone!“Oh, never fear that I will starve the flame:“When jealousy takes shelter inmyheart,“It does not die for lack of sustenance!”

Daph.Monster—get you hence, away!

I’ll hold no converse with you, get you gone.

(Aside) If I’d Cynisca’s tongue I’d wither him!

(ImitatingCynisca) “Oh, I can conjure up the scene at will

“Where you and she sit lovingly alone!

“Oh, never fear that I will starve the flame:

“When jealousy takes shelter inmyheart,

“It does not die for lack of sustenance!”

Chry.I’m sure of that! your hospitalityIs world-renowned. Extend it, love, to me!Oh, take me home again!

Chry.I’m sure of that! your hospitality

Is world-renowned. Extend it, love, to me!

Oh, take me home again!

Daph.Home? no, not I!Why I’ve a gallery of goddesses,Fifty at least—half-dressed bacchantes, too—Dryads and water-nymphs of every kind;Suppose I find, when I go home to-day,That they’ve all taken it intotheirheadsTo come to life—what would become of them,Or me, with Chrysos in the house? No—no,They’re bad enough in marble—but in flesh!!!I’ll sell the bold-faced hussies one and all,But till I’ve sold them, Chrysos stops outside!

Daph.Home? no, not I!

Why I’ve a gallery of goddesses,

Fifty at least—half-dressed bacchantes, too—

Dryads and water-nymphs of every kind;

Suppose I find, when I go home to-day,

That they’ve all taken it intotheirheads

To come to life—what would become of them,

Or me, with Chrysos in the house? No—no,

They’re bad enough in marble—but in flesh!!!

I’ll sell the bold-faced hussies one and all,

But till I’ve sold them, Chrysos stops outside!

Chry.WhathaveI done?

Daph.What have younotdone sir?

Chry.I can not tell you—it would take too long!

Daph.I saw you sitting with that marble minx,Your arm pressed lovingly around her waist.ExplainthatChrysos.

Daph.I saw you sitting with that marble minx,

Your arm pressed lovingly around her waist.

ExplainthatChrysos.

Chry.It explains itself:I am a zealous patron of the arts.And I am very fond of statuary.

Chry.It explains itself:

I am a zealous patron of the arts.

And I am very fond of statuary.

Daph.Bah—I’ve artistic tastes as well as you.But still, you never sawmesitting withMy arms around a stone Apollo’s waist!As for this “statue”—could I see her now,I’d test your taste for fragments!

Daph.Bah—I’ve artistic tastes as well as you.

But still, you never sawmesitting with

My arms around a stone Apollo’s waist!

As for this “statue”—could I see her now,

I’d test your taste for fragments!

Chry.Spare the girl,She’s very young and very innocent;She claims your pity.

Chry.Spare the girl,

She’s very young and very innocent;

She claims your pity.

Daph.Doesshe?

Chry.Yes, she does.If I saw Daphne sitting with her armRound an Apollo, I should pityhim.

Chry.Yes, she does.

If I saw Daphne sitting with her arm

Round an Apollo, I should pityhim.

Daph.(relenting). Would you?

Chry.I should, upon my word, I should.

Daph.Well, Chrysos, thou art pardoned. After allThe circumstances were exceptional.

Daph.Well, Chrysos, thou art pardoned. After all

The circumstances were exceptional.

Chry.(aside). Unhappily, they were!

Daph.Come home, but mindI’ll sell my gallery of goddesses;No good can come of animating stone.

Daph.Come home, but mind

I’ll sell my gallery of goddesses;

No good can come of animating stone.

Chry.Oh, pardon me—why every soul on earthSprang from the stones Deucalion threw behind.

Chry.Oh, pardon me—why every soul on earth

Sprang from the stones Deucalion threw behind.

Daph.But then Deucalion onlythrewthe stones,He left it to the gods to fashion them.

Daph.But then Deucalion onlythrewthe stones,

He left it to the gods to fashion them.

Chry.(aside—looking at her). And we who’ve seen the work the gods turn out,Would rather leave it to Pygmalion!

Chry.(aside—looking at her). And we who’ve seen the work the gods turn out,

Would rather leave it to Pygmalion!

Daph.(takingChrysos’arm, who is looking at a statue of Venus.)Come along, do![Exeunt.

Daph.(takingChrysos’arm, who is looking at a statue of Venus.)

Come along, do!

[Exeunt.

EnterMyrine, in great distress.

Myr.Pygmalion’s heard that he must lose his wife,And swears, by all the gods that reign above,He will not live if she deserts him now!What—what is to be done?

Myr.Pygmalion’s heard that he must lose his wife,

And swears, by all the gods that reign above,

He will not live if she deserts him now!

What—what is to be done?

EnterGalatea.

Gal.Myrine here!Where is Pygmalion?

Gal.Myrine here!

Where is Pygmalion?

Myr.Oh, wretched girl!Art thou not satisfied with all the illThy heedlessness has worked, that thou art comeTo gaze upon thy victim’s misery?Well, thou hast come in time!

Myr.Oh, wretched girl!

Art thou not satisfied with all the ill

Thy heedlessness has worked, that thou art come

To gaze upon thy victim’s misery?

Well, thou hast come in time!

Gal.What dost thou mean?

Myr.Why this is what I mean—he will not liveNow that Cynisca has deserted him.Oh, girl, his blood will be upon thy head!

Myr.Why this is what I mean—he will not live

Now that Cynisca has deserted him.

Oh, girl, his blood will be upon thy head!

Gal.Pygmalion will not live! Pygmalion die!And I, alas, the miserable cause!Oh, what is to be done?

Gal.Pygmalion will not live! Pygmalion die!

And I, alas, the miserable cause!

Oh, what is to be done?

Myr.I do not know.And yet there is one chance, but one alone;I’ll see Cynisca, and prevail on herTo meet Pygmalion but once again.

Myr.I do not know.

And yet there is one chance, but one alone;

I’ll see Cynisca, and prevail on her

To meet Pygmalion but once again.

Gal.(wildly). But should she come too late? He may not liveTill she returns.

Gal.(wildly). But should she come too late? He may not live

Till she returns.

Myr.I’ll send him now to thee,And tell him that his wife awaits him here.He’ll take thee for Cynisca; when he speaks,Answer thou him as if thou wast his wife.

Myr.I’ll send him now to thee,

And tell him that his wife awaits him here.

He’ll take thee for Cynisca; when he speaks,

Answer thou him as if thou wast his wife.

Gal.Yes, yes, I understand.

Myr.Then I’ll be gone.The gods assist thee in this artifice![ExitMyrine.

Myr.Then I’ll be gone.

The gods assist thee in this artifice!

[ExitMyrine.

Gal.The gods will help me, for the gods are good.Oh, Heaven, in this great grief I turn to thee.Teach me to speak to him, as, ere I lived,Cynisca spake to him. Oh, let my voiceBe to Pygmalion as Cynisca’s voice,And he will live—for her and not for me—Yet he will live. I am the fountain head

Gal.The gods will help me, for the gods are good.

Oh, Heaven, in this great grief I turn to thee.

Teach me to speak to him, as, ere I lived,

Cynisca spake to him. Oh, let my voice

Be to Pygmalion as Cynisca’s voice,

And he will live—for her and not for me—

Yet he will live. I am the fountain head

EnterPygmalion, unobserved, led byMyrine.

Of all the horrors that surround him now,And it is fit that I should suffer this;Grant this, my first appeal—I do not askPygmalion’s love; I ask Pygmalion’s life!

Of all the horrors that surround him now,

And it is fit that I should suffer this;

Grant this, my first appeal—I do not ask

Pygmalion’s love; I ask Pygmalion’s life!

(Pygmalionutters an exclamation of joy. She rushes to him and seizes his hand.)

Pygmalion!

Pyg.I have no words in whichTo tell the joy with which I heard that prayer.Oh, take me to thine arms, my dearly loved!And teach me once again how much I riskedIn risking such a heaven-sent love as thine.

Pyg.I have no words in which

To tell the joy with which I heard that prayer.

Oh, take me to thine arms, my dearly loved!

And teach me once again how much I risked

In risking such a heaven-sent love as thine.

Gal.(believing that he refers to her). Pygmalion! my love! Pygmalion!Once more those words! again! say them again!Tell me that thou forgivest me the illThat I unwittingly have worked on thee!

Gal.(believing that he refers to her). Pygmalion! my love! Pygmalion!

Once more those words! again! say them again!

Tell me that thou forgivest me the ill

That I unwittingly have worked on thee!

Pyg.Forgivethee? Why, my wife, I did not dareTo askthypardon, and thou askest mine,The compact with thy mistress ArtemisGave thee a heaven-sent right to punish me.I’ve learnt to take whate’er the gods may send.

Pyg.Forgivethee? Why, my wife, I did not dare

To askthypardon, and thou askest mine,

The compact with thy mistress Artemis

Gave thee a heaven-sent right to punish me.

I’ve learnt to take whate’er the gods may send.

(Galatea, at first delighted, learns in the course of this speech thatPygmaliontakes her forCynisca, and expresses extreme anguish.)

Gal.(with an effort.) But then, this woman, Galatea—

Pyg.Well?

Gal.Thy love for her is dead?

Pyg.I had no love.

Gal.Thou hadst no love?

Pyg.No love. At first, in truth,In mad amazement at the miracleThat crowned my handiwork, and brought to lifeThe fair creation of my sculptor’s skill,I yielded to her god-sent influence,For I had worshiped her before she livedBecause she called Cynisca’s face to me;But when she lived—that love died, word by word.

Pyg.No love. At first, in truth,

In mad amazement at the miracle

That crowned my handiwork, and brought to life

The fair creation of my sculptor’s skill,

I yielded to her god-sent influence,

For I had worshiped her before she lived

Because she called Cynisca’s face to me;

But when she lived—that love died, word by word.

Gal.That is well said; thou dost not love her then?She is no more to thee than senseless stone?

Gal.That is well said; thou dost not love her then?

She is no more to thee than senseless stone?

Pyg.Speak not of her, Cynisca, for I swear

EnterCynisca, unobserved.

The unhewn marble of PentelicusHath charms for me, which she, in all her glowOf womanly perfection, could not match.

The unhewn marble of Pentelicus

Hath charms for me, which she, in all her glow

Of womanly perfection, could not match.

Gal.I’m very glad to hear that this is so.Thou art forgiven! (Kisses his forehead.)

Gal.I’m very glad to hear that this is so.

Thou art forgiven! (Kisses his forehead.)

Pyg.Thou hast pardoned me,And though the law of Artemis declaredThy pardon should restore to me the lightThine anger took away, I would be blind,I would not have mine eyes lest they should restOn her who caused me all this bitterness!

Pyg.Thou hast pardoned me,

And though the law of Artemis declared

Thy pardon should restore to me the light

Thine anger took away, I would be blind,

I would not have mine eyes lest they should rest

On her who caused me all this bitterness!

Gal.Indeed, Pygmalion—’twere better thus—If thou couldst look on Galatea now,Thy love for her, perchance, might come again!

Gal.Indeed, Pygmalion—’twere better thus—

If thou couldst look on Galatea now,

Thy love for her, perchance, might come again!

Pyg.No, no.

Gal.They say that she endureth painsThat mock the power of words!

Gal.They say that she endureth pains

That mock the power of words!

Pyg.It should be so!

Gal.Hast thounopity for her?

Pyg.No, not I.The ill that she hath worked on thee—on me—And on Myrine—surely were enoughTo make us curse the hour that gave her life.She is not fit to live upon this world!

Pyg.No, not I.

The ill that she hath worked on thee—on me—

And on Myrine—surely were enough

To make us curse the hour that gave her life.

She is not fit to live upon this world!

Gal.(bitterly). Upon this worthy world, thou sayest well,The woman shall be seen of thee no more. (TakesCynisca’shand and leads her toPyg.)What wouldst thou with her now?Thou hast thy wife!

Gal.(bitterly). Upon this worthy world, thou sayest well,

The woman shall be seen of thee no more. (TakesCynisca’shand and leads her toPyg.)

What wouldst thou with her now?Thou hast thy wife!

(She substitutesCynisca, and retires, weeping.Cyniscatakes him to her arms and kisses him. He recovers his sight.)

Pyg.Cynisca! see! the light of day is mine!Once more I look upon thy well-loved face!

Pyg.Cynisca! see! the light of day is mine!

Once more I look upon thy well-loved face!

EnterMyrineandLeucippe.

Leu.Pygmalion! Thou hast thine eyes again!Come—this is happiness indeed!

Leu.Pygmalion! Thou hast thine eyes again!

Come—this is happiness indeed!

Pyg.And thou!Myrine has recalled thee?

Pyg.And thou!

Myrine has recalled thee?

Leu.No, I came,But more in sorrow than in penitence;For I’ve a hardened and a blood-stained heart!I thought she would denounce me to the law,But time, I found, had worked a wondrous change;The very girl, who half-a-day agoHad cursed me for a ruthless murderer,Not only pardoned me my infamy,But absolutely hugged me with delight,When she, with hungry and unpitying eyes,Beheld my victim—at the kitchen fire!The little cannibal!

Leu.No, I came,

But more in sorrow than in penitence;

For I’ve a hardened and a blood-stained heart!

I thought she would denounce me to the law,

But time, I found, had worked a wondrous change;

The very girl, who half-a-day ago

Had cursed me for a ruthless murderer,

Not only pardoned me my infamy,

But absolutely hugged me with delight,

When she, with hungry and unpitying eyes,

Beheld my victim—at the kitchen fire!

The little cannibal!

EnterGalatea.

Pyg.Away from me,Woman or statue! Thou the only blightThat ever fell upon my love—begone,For thou hast been the curse of all who fellWithin the compass of thy waywardness!

Pyg.Away from me,

Woman or statue! Thou the only blight

That ever fell upon my love—begone,

For thou hast been the curse of all who fell

Within the compass of thy waywardness!

Cyn.No, no—recall those words, Pygmalion,Thou knowest not all.

Cyn.No, no—recall those words, Pygmalion,

Thou knowest not all.

Gal.Nay—let me go from him;That curse—hiscurse—still ringing in mine ears,For life is bitterer to me than death. (She mounts the steps of pedestal.)Farewell, Pygmalion! Farewell! Farewell!(The curtains conceal her.)

Gal.Nay—let me go from him;

That curse—hiscurse—still ringing in mine ears,

For life is bitterer to me than death. (She mounts the steps of pedestal.)

Farewell, Pygmalion! Farewell! Farewell!(The curtains conceal her.)

Cyn.Thou art unjust to her as I to thee!Herswas the voice that pardoned thee—not mine.I knew no pity till she taught it me.I heard the words she spoke, and little thoughtThat they would find an echo in my heart;But so it was. I took them for mine own,And asking for thy pardon, pardoned thee!

Cyn.Thou art unjust to her as I to thee!

Herswas the voice that pardoned thee—not mine.

I knew no pity till she taught it me.

I heard the words she spoke, and little thought

That they would find an echo in my heart;

But so it was. I took them for mine own,

And asking for thy pardon, pardoned thee!

Pyg.(amazed). Cynisca! Is this so?

Cyn.In truth it is!

Gal.(behind curtain). Farewell, Pygmalion! Farewell! Farewell!

(Pygmalionrushes to the veil and tears it away, discoveringGalateaas a statue on the pedestal, as in Act I.)

CHARITY:A Play,IN FOUR ACTS.DRAMATIS PERSONÆ.Dr. Athelney,a Colonial Bishop-ElectMr. Chippendale.Ted Athelney,his son, aged 38Mr. Teesdale.Mr. Smailey,a Country Gentleman, aged 60Mr. Howe.Fred Smailey,his son, aged 22Mr. Kendal.Mr. Fitz Partington,a Private Inquiry OfficerMr. Buckstone.ButlerMr. Clark.FootmanMr. James.Mrs. Van Brugh,a widow, aged 35Miss M. Robertson.(Mrs. Kendal.)Eve,her daughter, aged 17Miss Amy Roselle.Ruth Tredgett,a tramp, aged 37Miss Woolgar.(Mrs. A. Mellon.)ACTS I. AND II.BOUDOIR IN MRS. VAN BRUGH’S COUNTRY HOUSE.ACT III.ROOM IN MR. SMAILEY’S HOUSE.ACT IV.LIBRARY AT DR. ATHELNEY’S.[A few days’ interval between each Act.]

A Play,

IN FOUR ACTS.

ACTS I. AND II.BOUDOIR IN MRS. VAN BRUGH’S COUNTRY HOUSE.

ACT III.ROOM IN MR. SMAILEY’S HOUSE.

ACT IV.LIBRARY AT DR. ATHELNEY’S.

[A few days’ interval between each Act.]

CHARITY.ACT I.Scene:A pretty boudoir in Mrs. Van Brugh’s country-house.Evediscovered withFrederick;Frederickon chair,Eveon footstool.Fred.(dictating toEve, who writes in a memorandum book at his feet). Let me see. Three hundred oranges, six hundred buns, thirty gallons of tea, twelve large plum cakes. So much for the school-children’s bodies. As for their minds—Eve.Oh, we’ve taken great care of their minds. In the first place, the amateur minstrels from Locroft are coming, with some lovely part songs.Fred.Part songs. Come, that’s well. Dr. Watts?Eve.Oh dear, no. Doctors Moore and Burgess!—Much jollier. (He shakes his head gravely.) Then we have a magic lantern. Here are the views. (Handing them.)Fred.(examining them). A person on horseback, galloping at full speed. Here he is again. Probably the flight of Xerxes.Eve.No—the flight of John Gilpin.Fred.Very trivial, Eve dear; very trivial.Eve.Oh, but it will amuse them much more than the flight of Xerxes.Fred.(gravely). My dear Eve, is this giddiness quite consistent with the nature of the good work before us?Eve.Mayn’t one be good and jolly too?Fred.Scarcely. Grave work should be undertaken gravely, and with a sense of responsibility.Eve.But I don’t call a school feast grave work.Fred.All work is grave when one has regard to the issues that may come of it. This school feast, trivial as it may seem to you—this matter of buns and big plum cakes—may be productive, for instance, of much—of much—Eve.Indigestion? That’s grave indeed! (He seems annoyed.) There, I’m very sorry I teased you, dear old boy; but you look at every thing from such a serious point of view.Fred.Am I too serious? Perhaps I am. And yet in my quiet undemonstrative way I am very happy.Eve.Ifyouare not happy dear, whoshouldbe?Fred.Yes, Eve, who indeed! (Kisses her.)Eve.I did not mean that. There is very little in me to make such a man as you happy, unless it be the prospect of making me as good and earnest as yourself—a poor prospect, I’m afraid, for I’m a very silly little girl.Fred.At least I will try.Eve.Begin now; tell me of my faults.Fred.No, no; that would be a very ungrateful task.Eve.Oh, if you neglect all tasks that are not pleasant, you are too like me to allow of my hoping to learn any thing of you.Fred.Very aptly put, Eve. Well then, you are too giddy, and too apt to laugh when you should sigh.Eve.Oh, but I am naturally rather—jolly. Mamma has taught me to be so. Mamma’s views are so entirely opposed to yours.Fred.Yes; I am deeply sorry for it. If it were not so, perhaps Mrs. Van Brugh would like me better.Eve.Mamma does like you, dear. She thinks you are very grave and precise and methodical, but I am sure she likes you—or why did she consent to our engagement?Fred.Because she loves you so well that she has the heart to thwart you in nothing. She is an admirable woman—good, kind—charitable beyond measure—beloved, honored, and courted by all——Eve.The best woman in the world!Fred.But she does not understand me. Well, time will work a change, and I must be content to wait.EnterServant.Servant.Mr. Edward Athelney, miss, is in the drawing room.Eve.Dear me, how tiresome.Fred.(calmly). Miss Van Brugh is not at home.Eve.(astonished). Oh, Frederick, I am![ExitServant.Fred.Well, yes, of course in one sense you certainly are. But being engaged upon a good work, with which an interruption would seriously interfere, you may be said—metaphorically, of course, and for the purposes of this particular case—to be, to a certain extent, out.Eve.(puzzled). I am quite sure I am at home, dear, in every possible sense of the word. You don’t dislike Edward, do you?Fred.You know very well that I dislike no one.Eve.I’m sure of that. You love all men.Fred.No doubt, Eve, I love all men. But you will understand that I love some men less than others; and, although I love Edward Athelney very much indeed, I love him, perhaps, less than anybody else in the world.Eve.But this is quite astonishing! Has Ted Athelney a fault? What is it? Come, sir, name one fault if you can. And mind, he’s my big brother, or as good, so be careful.Fred.“Frater nascitur non fit.”Eve.Oh!Fred.I don’t believe in your amateur brother. With every desire to confine himself to the duties of the character he undertakes, he is nevertheless apt to overlook the exact point where the brother ends and the lover begins.Eve.(puzzled). The lover!Fred.The brother by birth keeps well within bounds, but the amateur treads so often on the border line that in time it becomes obliterated and the functions merge.Eve.Ted Athelney a lover of mine! Oh, that’s too absurd. Ted Athelney—that great, clumsy, middle-aged, awkward, good-natured, apple-faced man, a lover of anybody’s, and least of all, of mine! Why he’s forty! Oh, it’s shocking—it’s horrible! I won’t hear any thing so dreadful of any one I love so much.Fred.You admit that you love him?Eve.Oh, yes, Ilovehim—but I don’tlovehim. (Nestling againstFred.) Don’tyouunderstand the difference?Fred.I don’t like his calling you Eve.Eve.Why you wouldn’t have him—oh, you nevercouldwant Ted Athelney to call me Miss Van Brugh?Fred.Then he kisses you.Eve.Of course he does, dear. Kisses me? So does mamma!Fred.No doubt, but there’s some difference.Eve.A difference! What difference?Fred.This, if no other: that I object to the one, and don’t object to the other. (Turns away.)Eve.(disappointed). Then I’m not to kiss Ted Athelney any more.EnterTed Athelney.Ted.Well, Eve, old lady, here I am, back again—well and hearty.Eve.Ted, stand back; I’m not to kiss you.Ted.Eh? Why not?Eve.It’s wrong. Isn’t it? (ToFred.)Fred.I’m sorry you think it necessary to ask the question.Eve.There, Ted. Only think of the wrong we’ve been doing for years and years, and never knew it!Ted.But who told you it was wrong. Not conscience, I’ll be sworn.Eve.No; that’s the worst of it. There’s something wrong with my conscience; it doesn’t seem to be up to its work. From some motive—mistaken politeness, perhaps—it declines to assert itself. Awful, isn’t it?Ted.Come, something’s happened during my absence in town; tell me what it is.Eve.Something of a tremendous naturehashappened! Ted Athelney, I mustn’t call you Ted Athelney any longer!Ted.What?Eve.And I mustn’t let you kiss me, because I’m going to be married.Ted.Married! (Starting.)Eve.Yes.Ted.To—? (IndicatingFrederick.)Eve.Yes. (He is much agitated.) Won’t you tell me that you are glad to hear it?Ted.(after a pause). Yes, Eve, I’m glad of any thing that makes you happy. It has come upon me very suddenly. I never thought of your getting married. I was a great ass, for it must have come about some time or other, and why not now? and it must have been to some fellow, and why not Fred Smailey? God bless you, Eve. I must get it well into my mind before I can talk about it, and mine is a mind that takes a good deal of getting at. I hope and believe that you will be happy.(She retires.)Fred, old man——(Goes toFred; takes his hand and tries to speak, but in vain.)EnterMrs. Van Brugh.Mrs. V. B.Well, I’ve done for myself now; go away from me; I’m a pariah, an outcast; don’t, for goodness’ sake, be seen talking with me.Eve.Why, mamma, dear, what on earth have you been doing?Mrs. V. B.Doing? Listen and shudder! I’ve put a Dissenter into my almshouses! (Sits at table.)Fred.(rising). A Dissenter?Mrs. V. B.A real live Dissenter. Isn’t it awful!Fred.No, awful is too strong a term; but I think it was a very, very sad mistake.Mrs. V. B.A thousand thanks for your toleration—I shall never forget it. The village is outraged—they have stood my eccentricities long enough. It was bad enough when I put a RomanCatholic in, but in consideration of the almshouses being my own they were good enough to swallow the Roman Catholic. Then came a Jew—well, the village was merciful, and with a few wry faces they swallowed even the Jew. But a Dissenter! The linemustbe drawn somewhere, and High and Low Church are agreed that it must be drawn at Dissenters. The churchwardens look the other way when I pass. The clerk’s religious zeal causes him to turn into the “Red Cow,” rather than touch his hat to me, and even the dirty little boys run after me shouting “No Popery” at the top of their voices, though I’m sure I don’t see how it applies.Fred.But, my dear Mrs. Van Brugh, you mean well I’m sure—but a Jew, a Catholic, and a Dissenter!—is there no such thing as a starving Churchman to be found?Mrs. V. B.There are but too many starving men of all denominations, but while I’m hunting out the Churchman, the Jew, the Catholic and the Dissenter will perish, and that would never do, would it?Fred.That is the Christianity of impulse. I would feed him that belonged to my own church, and if he did not belong to it, I would not feed him at all.Mrs. V. B.That is the Christianity of Religious Politics. As to these poor people, they will shake down and agree very well in time. Nothing is so conducive to toleration as the knowledge that one’s bread depends upon it. It applies to all conditionsof life, from almshouses to Happy Families. Where are you going?Eve.We are going down to the school to see the cakes and oranges and decorations——Fred.(seriously). And to impress upon the children the danger of introducing inharmonious elements intotheirlittle almshouses.Mrs. V. B.Well, I hope you’ll be more successful with them than with me. Their case is much more critical than mine, I assure you. (ExeuntEveandFred.Mrs. Van BrughseesEdward, who is sitting at back, with his head between his hands.) Why, who’s this? Edward Athelney, returned at last to his disconsolate village? Go away, sir—don’t come near me—you’re a reprobate—you’ve been in London ten days and nobody to look after you. Give an account of yourself. It’s awful to think of the villainy a thoroughly badly disposed young man can get through in ten days in London, if I’m not there to look after him—come, sir, all your crimes, please, in alphabetical order—now then, A—Arson. Any arson? No? Quite sure? Come now, that’s something—Then we go to Burglary? Bigamy? No Bigamy? Come, it’s not as bad as I thought.—Why (seeing that he looks very wretched), what on earth is the matter—why, my poor Ted—what is distressing you? I never saw you look so wretched in my life!Ted.Oh! Mrs. Van Brugh, I’m awfully unhappy!Mrs. V. B.My poor old friend—tell me all about it.Ted.It’s soon told—Mrs. Van Brugh, you have a daughter, who’s the best and loveliest girl I ever saw in my life.Mrs. V. B.(pause). My poor Edward!Ted.Did—did you know that I—that I was like this?Mrs. V. B.No! no! no!Ted.Nor I, it came on me like a thunderclap—my love for that little girl has grown as imperceptibly as my age has grown—I’ve taken no note of either till now—when I rub my eyes and find that I love her dearly, and that I’m eight-and-thirty!Mrs. V. B.But, surely you know—you must have heard——Ted.Yes, yes, I’ve just heard—Fred Smailey’s a lucky fellow, and he deserves his luck.Mrs. V. B.Perhaps. I don’t know. I don’t like Fred Smailey.Ted.(amazed). You don’t like Smailey?Mrs. V. B.No, I don’t, and I’m afraid I show it. My dear old friend, it would have made me very happy to have seen you married to Eve, but he was first in the field, and she loves him. At first I wouldn’t hear of it—but she fell ill—might have died—well I’m her mother, and I love her, and I gave in. I know nothing against him.Ted.Oh, Fred Smailey’s a good fellow, a thorough good fellow. You do him an injustice, indeed you do; I never knew a man with such a sense of gratitude—it’s perfectly astonishing. Rememberhow he gave me that splendid colly, when I pulled him out of the ice, last February, and how in return for my lending him money to pay his college debts, he got his father to let me shoot over Rushout—no—no—if Fred Smailey has a fault, he’s too good for this world.Mrs. V. B.Is he?—at all events he’s too solemn.Ted.Here’s the dad coming—he mustn’t see me like this. Good-by, Mrs. Van Brugh. You won’t speak of this to any one, I know—not that I’ve reason to be ashamed of it, but it’ll pain Eve and Fred too. I’ll bear up, never fear, and Eve shall never know—after all, her happiness is the great end, and, so that it’s brought about, what matter whether Fred or I do it, so that it’s done. It’s Fred’s job, not mine—better luck for him, worse luck for me.[Exit.Mrs. V. B.Poor fellow! There goes a heart of gold with a head of cotton-wool! Oh, Eve, Eve, my dear, I’m very sad for you! Is it head or heart that makes the best husband? Better that baby-hearted simpleton than the sharpest Smailey that ever stepped! I’m very unjust. Heaven knows that I, of all women in this world, should be slow to judge. But my dislike to that man, to his family, to every thing that relates to him, is intuitive. However, the mischief, if mischief there be, is done; I’ll make the best of it.EnterDr. Athelney, very hurriedly.Dr. A.My dear Mrs. Van Brugh, I come without a moment’s loss of time, to thank you in my late curate Twemlow’s name for your great kindness in presenting him to the Crabthorpe living. He has a wife and four children, and is nearly mad with joy and gratitude. I’ve brought you his letter.Mrs. V. B.I won’t read it, doctor. I can’t bear gratitude; it makes my eyes red. Take it away. I am only too glad to have helped a struggling and deserving man. Now, I’m very glad you’ve come, because I want to consult you on a business matter of some importance.Dr. A.My dear Mrs. Van Brugh, I have been the intellectual head of this village for fifty-three years, and nobody ever yet paid me the compliment of consulting me on a matter of business.Mrs. V. B.Then I’ve no doubt I’m going to hit upon a neglected mine of commercial sagacity!Dr. A.It’s very possible. I was second wrangler of my year.Mrs. V. B.I told you last night of Eve’s engagement. Well, old Mr. Smailey has sent me a note to say that he will call on me to-morrow week to talk over the settlement I propose to make on the occasion of my darling’s marriage with his son. Now, doctor, look as wise as you can, and tell me what I ought to do.Dr. A.Well, in such a case I should be very worldly. I think, my dear, I should prepare a nice little luncheon, with a bottle of that Amontillado, and then, having got him quietly and cosilytête-à-tête, I should ask him whatheproposes to do.Mrs. V. B.Very good indeed, doctor. Upon my word, for a colonial bishop-elect, that’s not bad. But, unfortunately, I’ve already ascertained that he proposes to do nothing. All his money is tied up.Dr. A.Oh, is it indeed? Bless me! Tied up, is it? And may I ask, what do you understand by that expression?Mrs. V. B.Well, in round terms, it’s his, but he mustn’t spend it. Do you understand?Dr. A.Oh, yes. When I was a boy my uncle gave me a guinea on those terms.Mrs. V. B.Now come, doctor dear, the young people look to me, and, when one is looked to, one should be equal to the emergency. What would you advise me to do?Dr. A.Yourproperty is not, I suppose, tied up?Mrs. V. B.No; it is quite unfettered, and consists principally of long leaseholds and funded property, left me by my godfather, and a small sum of money acquired by Captain Van Brugh on his first marriage.Dr. A.His first marriage! Bless me, I never knew he had been married before.Mrs. V. B.Yes (much agitated), a most unhappy match. She—she left him under discreditable circumstances—went to Australia—resumed her maiden name, and, under that name, died in Melbourne.Dr. A.And when did this unhappy lady die?Mrs. V. B.(still agitated). Oh! years ago—It’s a terrible story. I don’t like to think of it—I can’t bear to talk of it.Dr. A.(aside). What a blundering old savage I am! If there is a pitfall open, ten to one I tumble into it! (Aloud.) I have always understood that where marriage settlements of any consideration are concerned, it is customary to employ a solicitor. I can’t quote my authority, but, I feel sure that I am right.Mrs. V. B.Old Mr. Smailey is an executor under Captain Van Brugh’s will, andhissolicitor has always acted for me.Dr. A.His solicitor! what, that queer little red-faced fellow who accompanies him everywhere?Mrs. V. B.No. Ha! ha! ha! I suppose Mr. Fitz Partington is a junior partner, or head clerk, or something of the kind—at all events, his name doesn’t appear in the firm.Dr. A.Well, leave it to me, Mrs. Van Brugh, and I’ll write to my brother, the Vice-Chancellor, who will tell us what to do. Now I’m off. (Noise without.) Why—what’s this? Bless me, Mrs. Van Brugh, what is the cause of this commotion?(Noise heard without, as of people struggling with a woman, who rudely expostulates with them.)Mrs. V. B.Why, what in the world is the matter?Enter three or fourServant MenwithRuth Tredgettin custody. She is wild-looking and dishevelled, as if she had been struggling violently.Groom.We’ve got her, ma’am. Don’t be afraid. (ToRuth.) Stand quiet, you jade, will yer? Woa, there! We’ve got her, sir, but we’ve had a desperate hard job to do it.Dr. A.What has been done?Groom.She’s knocked two teeth clean out of my head, sir, and give notice to quit to a dozen more.Dr. A.We will hear your grievance presently. What has this woman done that she is brought here?All.Done, sir, why——But.(with dignity to the others). If you please! (ToMrs. Van Brugh) Ma’am, Edwards found this here woman creepin’ out of my pantry, ma’am, on all fours.Dr. A.On what?But.On her hands and knees, like a quadruped, sir.Dr. A.Have you searched her?But.(shocked). No, sir, I havenotsearched her.Dr. A.Well, well, I mean has she been searched?But.(with dignity). I put my hand in her pocket, sir, and I looked under her shawl.Dr. A.Well, you didn’t search her, but you putyour hand in her pocket, and you looked under her shawl. What did you find there?But.A decanter of sherry, sir. (Producing it.)Dr. A.(toMrs. V. B.) Your sherry, Mrs. Van Brugh?But.Oursherry, Dr. Athelney.Dr. A.Well, you hear what this man says; did you take this wine?Ruth.Ay, I took it, sure enough.Dr. A.Why did you take it?Ruth.Why, to drink, of course. WhyshouldI take it?Dr. A.Youshouldn’ttake it.Ruth.Don’t you never take wine?Dr. A.Not other people’s wine—except, of course, with their permission.Ruth.Maybe you’ve got a cellar of your own.Dr. A.Maybe I have.Ruth.Well, maybeIhaven’t. That’s my answer.Dr. A.Now, what are we to do with her?Mrs. V. B.Leave her to me. Dr. Athelney, please remain here with me. Every one else, except the woman, leave the room.But.She’s a desperate character, ma’am; it took six of us, including me, to bring her here.Mrs. V. B.Never mind. Dr. Athelney and I will see her alone. Take your hands from her and go.But.Hadn’t we better keep within hearing? If help was wanted——Mrs. V. B.No help will be wanted. I am in earnest. Go. Shut the door. (TheServantsreluctantly depart.)Ruth.You’re a cool hand, missis; ain’t you afeard on me?Mrs. V. B.Not at all. Why should I be afraid of you? I mean you no harm.Ruth.Who’s he?Mrs. V. B.Dr. Athelney, a clergyman and a magistrate.Ruth.Beak, is he? Well, let him make out the committal. Where’s it to be? Sessions?Mrs. V. B.We have no wish to prosecute you. We wish to help you to arrive at a sense of right and wrong.Ruth.Can’t it be done without a parson? I dunno much good o’ parsons. I’d rather it was done without a parson.Dr. A.(kindly). Don’t think of me as a clergyman, if that calling is distasteful to you. Perhaps some day we may succeed in overcoming your prejudice. In the mean time, think of me only as a harmless old gentleman, who is willing and able to help you to earn your living respectably, if you desire to do so.Ruth.Ah, I’ve come across the likes o’ you afore now. Three weeks agone comes a parson, as it might be you. “I’ve come to help you, poor fallen creetur,” says he; “I’ve come to tell you blessed truths, poor miserable outcast,” says he. “Readthat, wretched lost sheep,” says he. “I’ll call again in a month and see how you feel,” says he. A month! Heugh! When I was bad with fever the doctor come every day.Henever come no more. There’s ladies come odd times. I call to mind one—come in a carriageshedid. Same story—poor, miserable, lost one—wretched abandoned fellow-creetur, and that. She called me a brand from the burnin’, and wanted to stretch out a hand to save me,shedid. Well, she stretched it out, and I thought she meant it (for I was green then), and, fool-like, I took it, and kissed it. She screeched as though I’d bit her!Mrs. V. B.Will you takemyhand?Ruth.(astonished). Do you know what I am?Mrs. V. B.Yes; I know well what you are. You are a woman who wants help, and I a woman who will help you. (Taking her hand).Ruth.(much moved). Thankee, missis! you’ve spoke fair to me. I’ve had no one speak like that to me for many a long year. Thankee, missis. (Struggling with tears.) Don’t mind me. (Throws her apron over her face and sobs.) Theywillcome odd times!Mrs. V. B.Will you tell me your name?Ruth.Ruth Tredgett. I come from Cambridge.Dr. A.Born there?Ruth.I dunno as I was born there, but I come from there.Dr. A.What are you?Ruth.I s’pose I’m a thief. I s’pose I’m what gentlefolk thinks is wus than a thief. God help me! I s’pose I’m as bad as I can be. (Weeping.)Mrs. V. B.Are your parents alive?Ruth.No, I never had no father—my mother was such as me. See here, lady. Wot’s to become of a gal whose mother was such as me? Mother! Why, I could swear afore I could walk!Dr. A.But were you not brought up to any calling?Ruth.Yes, sir, I were; I were brought up to be a thief. Every soul as I knowed was a thief, and the best thief was the best thought on. Maybe a kid not long born ought to have knowed better. I dunno, I must ha’ been born bad, for it seemed right enough to me. Well, it wasinprison andouto’ prison—three months here and six months there—till I was sixteen. I sometimes thinks as if they’d bin half as ready to show me how to go right as they was to punish me for goin’ wrong, I might have took the right turnin’ and stuck to it afore this. At sixteen I got seven year for shopliftin’, and was sent out to Port Philip. I soon got a ticket and tried service and needlework, but no one wouldn’t have me; and I got sick and tired of it all, and began to think o’ putting a end to it, when I met a smooth-spoken chap—a gentleman, if you please—as wanted to save me from the danger afore me. Well, wot odds? He was a psalm-singing villain, and he soon left me. Noneed to tell the rest—to such as you it can’t be told. I’m ’most as bad as I can be—as bad as I can be!Mrs. V. B.I think not; I think not. What do you say, Doctor?Dr. A.(struggling with his tears). Say, ma’am? I say that you, Ruth Tredgett, have been a most discreditable person, and you ought to be heartily ashamed of yourself, Ruth Tredgett; and as a clergyman of the Church of England I feel bound to tell you that—that your life has been—has been what God knows it couldn’t well have helped being under the circumstances.Mrs. V. B.Ruth Tredgett, I am very, very sorry for you. If you are willing to leave this unhappy course of life I will provide you with the means of earning your living honestly.Ruth.Honestly! Why, lady, I’m too fur gone for that!Mrs. V. B.I hope not. I have assisted many, very many such women as yourself, and I have seldom found my efforts wasted.Ruth.But you—a lady, high-born, high-bred, beautiful, rich, good—(In amazement.)Mrs. V. B.Hush. (Rises.) No matter what I am. (With emotion.) Who shall say what the very best of us might not have been but for the accident of education and good example? Tell me, Ruth Tredgett, will you accept my offer?Ruth.(kneels at her feet and looks up into her face). I will!

CHARITY.

Scene:A pretty boudoir in Mrs. Van Brugh’s country-house.

Evediscovered withFrederick;Frederickon chair,Eveon footstool.

Fred.(dictating toEve, who writes in a memorandum book at his feet). Let me see. Three hundred oranges, six hundred buns, thirty gallons of tea, twelve large plum cakes. So much for the school-children’s bodies. As for their minds—

Eve.Oh, we’ve taken great care of their minds. In the first place, the amateur minstrels from Locroft are coming, with some lovely part songs.

Fred.Part songs. Come, that’s well. Dr. Watts?

Eve.Oh dear, no. Doctors Moore and Burgess!—Much jollier. (He shakes his head gravely.) Then we have a magic lantern. Here are the views. (Handing them.)

Fred.(examining them). A person on horseback, galloping at full speed. Here he is again. Probably the flight of Xerxes.

Eve.No—the flight of John Gilpin.

Fred.Very trivial, Eve dear; very trivial.

Eve.Oh, but it will amuse them much more than the flight of Xerxes.

Fred.(gravely). My dear Eve, is this giddiness quite consistent with the nature of the good work before us?

Eve.Mayn’t one be good and jolly too?

Fred.Scarcely. Grave work should be undertaken gravely, and with a sense of responsibility.

Eve.But I don’t call a school feast grave work.

Fred.All work is grave when one has regard to the issues that may come of it. This school feast, trivial as it may seem to you—this matter of buns and big plum cakes—may be productive, for instance, of much—of much—

Eve.Indigestion? That’s grave indeed! (He seems annoyed.) There, I’m very sorry I teased you, dear old boy; but you look at every thing from such a serious point of view.

Fred.Am I too serious? Perhaps I am. And yet in my quiet undemonstrative way I am very happy.

Eve.Ifyouare not happy dear, whoshouldbe?

Fred.Yes, Eve, who indeed! (Kisses her.)

Eve.I did not mean that. There is very little in me to make such a man as you happy, unless it be the prospect of making me as good and earnest as yourself—a poor prospect, I’m afraid, for I’m a very silly little girl.

Fred.At least I will try.

Eve.Begin now; tell me of my faults.

Fred.No, no; that would be a very ungrateful task.

Eve.Oh, if you neglect all tasks that are not pleasant, you are too like me to allow of my hoping to learn any thing of you.

Fred.Very aptly put, Eve. Well then, you are too giddy, and too apt to laugh when you should sigh.

Eve.Oh, but I am naturally rather—jolly. Mamma has taught me to be so. Mamma’s views are so entirely opposed to yours.

Fred.Yes; I am deeply sorry for it. If it were not so, perhaps Mrs. Van Brugh would like me better.

Eve.Mamma does like you, dear. She thinks you are very grave and precise and methodical, but I am sure she likes you—or why did she consent to our engagement?

Fred.Because she loves you so well that she has the heart to thwart you in nothing. She is an admirable woman—good, kind—charitable beyond measure—beloved, honored, and courted by all——

Eve.The best woman in the world!

Fred.But she does not understand me. Well, time will work a change, and I must be content to wait.

EnterServant.

Servant.Mr. Edward Athelney, miss, is in the drawing room.

Eve.Dear me, how tiresome.

Fred.(calmly). Miss Van Brugh is not at home.

Eve.(astonished). Oh, Frederick, I am![ExitServant.

Fred.Well, yes, of course in one sense you certainly are. But being engaged upon a good work, with which an interruption would seriously interfere, you may be said—metaphorically, of course, and for the purposes of this particular case—to be, to a certain extent, out.

Eve.(puzzled). I am quite sure I am at home, dear, in every possible sense of the word. You don’t dislike Edward, do you?

Fred.You know very well that I dislike no one.

Eve.I’m sure of that. You love all men.

Fred.No doubt, Eve, I love all men. But you will understand that I love some men less than others; and, although I love Edward Athelney very much indeed, I love him, perhaps, less than anybody else in the world.

Eve.But this is quite astonishing! Has Ted Athelney a fault? What is it? Come, sir, name one fault if you can. And mind, he’s my big brother, or as good, so be careful.

Fred.“Frater nascitur non fit.”

Eve.Oh!

Fred.I don’t believe in your amateur brother. With every desire to confine himself to the duties of the character he undertakes, he is nevertheless apt to overlook the exact point where the brother ends and the lover begins.

Eve.(puzzled). The lover!

Fred.The brother by birth keeps well within bounds, but the amateur treads so often on the border line that in time it becomes obliterated and the functions merge.

Eve.Ted Athelney a lover of mine! Oh, that’s too absurd. Ted Athelney—that great, clumsy, middle-aged, awkward, good-natured, apple-faced man, a lover of anybody’s, and least of all, of mine! Why he’s forty! Oh, it’s shocking—it’s horrible! I won’t hear any thing so dreadful of any one I love so much.

Fred.You admit that you love him?

Eve.Oh, yes, Ilovehim—but I don’tlovehim. (Nestling againstFred.) Don’tyouunderstand the difference?

Fred.I don’t like his calling you Eve.

Eve.Why you wouldn’t have him—oh, you nevercouldwant Ted Athelney to call me Miss Van Brugh?

Fred.Then he kisses you.

Eve.Of course he does, dear. Kisses me? So does mamma!

Fred.No doubt, but there’s some difference.

Eve.A difference! What difference?

Fred.This, if no other: that I object to the one, and don’t object to the other. (Turns away.)

Eve.(disappointed). Then I’m not to kiss Ted Athelney any more.

EnterTed Athelney.

Ted.Well, Eve, old lady, here I am, back again—well and hearty.

Eve.Ted, stand back; I’m not to kiss you.

Ted.Eh? Why not?

Eve.It’s wrong. Isn’t it? (ToFred.)

Fred.I’m sorry you think it necessary to ask the question.

Eve.There, Ted. Only think of the wrong we’ve been doing for years and years, and never knew it!

Ted.But who told you it was wrong. Not conscience, I’ll be sworn.

Eve.No; that’s the worst of it. There’s something wrong with my conscience; it doesn’t seem to be up to its work. From some motive—mistaken politeness, perhaps—it declines to assert itself. Awful, isn’t it?

Ted.Come, something’s happened during my absence in town; tell me what it is.

Eve.Something of a tremendous naturehashappened! Ted Athelney, I mustn’t call you Ted Athelney any longer!

Ted.What?

Eve.And I mustn’t let you kiss me, because I’m going to be married.

Ted.Married! (Starting.)

Eve.Yes.

Ted.To—? (IndicatingFrederick.)

Eve.Yes. (He is much agitated.) Won’t you tell me that you are glad to hear it?

Ted.(after a pause). Yes, Eve, I’m glad of any thing that makes you happy. It has come upon me very suddenly. I never thought of your getting married. I was a great ass, for it must have come about some time or other, and why not now? and it must have been to some fellow, and why not Fred Smailey? God bless you, Eve. I must get it well into my mind before I can talk about it, and mine is a mind that takes a good deal of getting at. I hope and believe that you will be happy.(She retires.)Fred, old man——

(Goes toFred; takes his hand and tries to speak, but in vain.)

EnterMrs. Van Brugh.

Mrs. V. B.Well, I’ve done for myself now; go away from me; I’m a pariah, an outcast; don’t, for goodness’ sake, be seen talking with me.

Eve.Why, mamma, dear, what on earth have you been doing?

Mrs. V. B.Doing? Listen and shudder! I’ve put a Dissenter into my almshouses! (Sits at table.)

Fred.(rising). A Dissenter?

Mrs. V. B.A real live Dissenter. Isn’t it awful!

Fred.No, awful is too strong a term; but I think it was a very, very sad mistake.

Mrs. V. B.A thousand thanks for your toleration—I shall never forget it. The village is outraged—they have stood my eccentricities long enough. It was bad enough when I put a RomanCatholic in, but in consideration of the almshouses being my own they were good enough to swallow the Roman Catholic. Then came a Jew—well, the village was merciful, and with a few wry faces they swallowed even the Jew. But a Dissenter! The linemustbe drawn somewhere, and High and Low Church are agreed that it must be drawn at Dissenters. The churchwardens look the other way when I pass. The clerk’s religious zeal causes him to turn into the “Red Cow,” rather than touch his hat to me, and even the dirty little boys run after me shouting “No Popery” at the top of their voices, though I’m sure I don’t see how it applies.

Fred.But, my dear Mrs. Van Brugh, you mean well I’m sure—but a Jew, a Catholic, and a Dissenter!—is there no such thing as a starving Churchman to be found?

Mrs. V. B.There are but too many starving men of all denominations, but while I’m hunting out the Churchman, the Jew, the Catholic and the Dissenter will perish, and that would never do, would it?

Fred.That is the Christianity of impulse. I would feed him that belonged to my own church, and if he did not belong to it, I would not feed him at all.

Mrs. V. B.That is the Christianity of Religious Politics. As to these poor people, they will shake down and agree very well in time. Nothing is so conducive to toleration as the knowledge that one’s bread depends upon it. It applies to all conditionsof life, from almshouses to Happy Families. Where are you going?

Eve.We are going down to the school to see the cakes and oranges and decorations——

Fred.(seriously). And to impress upon the children the danger of introducing inharmonious elements intotheirlittle almshouses.

Mrs. V. B.Well, I hope you’ll be more successful with them than with me. Their case is much more critical than mine, I assure you. (ExeuntEveandFred.Mrs. Van BrughseesEdward, who is sitting at back, with his head between his hands.) Why, who’s this? Edward Athelney, returned at last to his disconsolate village? Go away, sir—don’t come near me—you’re a reprobate—you’ve been in London ten days and nobody to look after you. Give an account of yourself. It’s awful to think of the villainy a thoroughly badly disposed young man can get through in ten days in London, if I’m not there to look after him—come, sir, all your crimes, please, in alphabetical order—now then, A—Arson. Any arson? No? Quite sure? Come now, that’s something—Then we go to Burglary? Bigamy? No Bigamy? Come, it’s not as bad as I thought.—Why (seeing that he looks very wretched), what on earth is the matter—why, my poor Ted—what is distressing you? I never saw you look so wretched in my life!

Ted.Oh! Mrs. Van Brugh, I’m awfully unhappy!

Mrs. V. B.My poor old friend—tell me all about it.

Ted.It’s soon told—Mrs. Van Brugh, you have a daughter, who’s the best and loveliest girl I ever saw in my life.

Mrs. V. B.(pause). My poor Edward!

Ted.Did—did you know that I—that I was like this?

Mrs. V. B.No! no! no!

Ted.Nor I, it came on me like a thunderclap—my love for that little girl has grown as imperceptibly as my age has grown—I’ve taken no note of either till now—when I rub my eyes and find that I love her dearly, and that I’m eight-and-thirty!

Mrs. V. B.But, surely you know—you must have heard——

Ted.Yes, yes, I’ve just heard—Fred Smailey’s a lucky fellow, and he deserves his luck.

Mrs. V. B.Perhaps. I don’t know. I don’t like Fred Smailey.

Ted.(amazed). You don’t like Smailey?

Mrs. V. B.No, I don’t, and I’m afraid I show it. My dear old friend, it would have made me very happy to have seen you married to Eve, but he was first in the field, and she loves him. At first I wouldn’t hear of it—but she fell ill—might have died—well I’m her mother, and I love her, and I gave in. I know nothing against him.

Ted.Oh, Fred Smailey’s a good fellow, a thorough good fellow. You do him an injustice, indeed you do; I never knew a man with such a sense of gratitude—it’s perfectly astonishing. Rememberhow he gave me that splendid colly, when I pulled him out of the ice, last February, and how in return for my lending him money to pay his college debts, he got his father to let me shoot over Rushout—no—no—if Fred Smailey has a fault, he’s too good for this world.

Mrs. V. B.Is he?—at all events he’s too solemn.

Ted.Here’s the dad coming—he mustn’t see me like this. Good-by, Mrs. Van Brugh. You won’t speak of this to any one, I know—not that I’ve reason to be ashamed of it, but it’ll pain Eve and Fred too. I’ll bear up, never fear, and Eve shall never know—after all, her happiness is the great end, and, so that it’s brought about, what matter whether Fred or I do it, so that it’s done. It’s Fred’s job, not mine—better luck for him, worse luck for me.[Exit.

Mrs. V. B.Poor fellow! There goes a heart of gold with a head of cotton-wool! Oh, Eve, Eve, my dear, I’m very sad for you! Is it head or heart that makes the best husband? Better that baby-hearted simpleton than the sharpest Smailey that ever stepped! I’m very unjust. Heaven knows that I, of all women in this world, should be slow to judge. But my dislike to that man, to his family, to every thing that relates to him, is intuitive. However, the mischief, if mischief there be, is done; I’ll make the best of it.

EnterDr. Athelney, very hurriedly.

Dr. A.My dear Mrs. Van Brugh, I come without a moment’s loss of time, to thank you in my late curate Twemlow’s name for your great kindness in presenting him to the Crabthorpe living. He has a wife and four children, and is nearly mad with joy and gratitude. I’ve brought you his letter.

Mrs. V. B.I won’t read it, doctor. I can’t bear gratitude; it makes my eyes red. Take it away. I am only too glad to have helped a struggling and deserving man. Now, I’m very glad you’ve come, because I want to consult you on a business matter of some importance.

Dr. A.My dear Mrs. Van Brugh, I have been the intellectual head of this village for fifty-three years, and nobody ever yet paid me the compliment of consulting me on a matter of business.

Mrs. V. B.Then I’ve no doubt I’m going to hit upon a neglected mine of commercial sagacity!

Dr. A.It’s very possible. I was second wrangler of my year.

Mrs. V. B.I told you last night of Eve’s engagement. Well, old Mr. Smailey has sent me a note to say that he will call on me to-morrow week to talk over the settlement I propose to make on the occasion of my darling’s marriage with his son. Now, doctor, look as wise as you can, and tell me what I ought to do.

Dr. A.Well, in such a case I should be very worldly. I think, my dear, I should prepare a nice little luncheon, with a bottle of that Amontillado, and then, having got him quietly and cosilytête-à-tête, I should ask him whatheproposes to do.

Mrs. V. B.Very good indeed, doctor. Upon my word, for a colonial bishop-elect, that’s not bad. But, unfortunately, I’ve already ascertained that he proposes to do nothing. All his money is tied up.

Dr. A.Oh, is it indeed? Bless me! Tied up, is it? And may I ask, what do you understand by that expression?

Mrs. V. B.Well, in round terms, it’s his, but he mustn’t spend it. Do you understand?

Dr. A.Oh, yes. When I was a boy my uncle gave me a guinea on those terms.

Mrs. V. B.Now come, doctor dear, the young people look to me, and, when one is looked to, one should be equal to the emergency. What would you advise me to do?

Dr. A.Yourproperty is not, I suppose, tied up?

Mrs. V. B.No; it is quite unfettered, and consists principally of long leaseholds and funded property, left me by my godfather, and a small sum of money acquired by Captain Van Brugh on his first marriage.

Dr. A.His first marriage! Bless me, I never knew he had been married before.

Mrs. V. B.Yes (much agitated), a most unhappy match. She—she left him under discreditable circumstances—went to Australia—resumed her maiden name, and, under that name, died in Melbourne.

Dr. A.And when did this unhappy lady die?

Mrs. V. B.(still agitated). Oh! years ago—It’s a terrible story. I don’t like to think of it—I can’t bear to talk of it.

Dr. A.(aside). What a blundering old savage I am! If there is a pitfall open, ten to one I tumble into it! (Aloud.) I have always understood that where marriage settlements of any consideration are concerned, it is customary to employ a solicitor. I can’t quote my authority, but, I feel sure that I am right.

Mrs. V. B.Old Mr. Smailey is an executor under Captain Van Brugh’s will, andhissolicitor has always acted for me.

Dr. A.His solicitor! what, that queer little red-faced fellow who accompanies him everywhere?

Mrs. V. B.No. Ha! ha! ha! I suppose Mr. Fitz Partington is a junior partner, or head clerk, or something of the kind—at all events, his name doesn’t appear in the firm.

Dr. A.Well, leave it to me, Mrs. Van Brugh, and I’ll write to my brother, the Vice-Chancellor, who will tell us what to do. Now I’m off. (Noise without.) Why—what’s this? Bless me, Mrs. Van Brugh, what is the cause of this commotion?

(Noise heard without, as of people struggling with a woman, who rudely expostulates with them.)

Mrs. V. B.Why, what in the world is the matter?

Enter three or fourServant MenwithRuth Tredgettin custody. She is wild-looking and dishevelled, as if she had been struggling violently.

Groom.We’ve got her, ma’am. Don’t be afraid. (ToRuth.) Stand quiet, you jade, will yer? Woa, there! We’ve got her, sir, but we’ve had a desperate hard job to do it.

Dr. A.What has been done?

Groom.She’s knocked two teeth clean out of my head, sir, and give notice to quit to a dozen more.

Dr. A.We will hear your grievance presently. What has this woman done that she is brought here?

All.Done, sir, why——

But.(with dignity to the others). If you please! (ToMrs. Van Brugh) Ma’am, Edwards found this here woman creepin’ out of my pantry, ma’am, on all fours.

Dr. A.On what?

But.On her hands and knees, like a quadruped, sir.

Dr. A.Have you searched her?

But.(shocked). No, sir, I havenotsearched her.

Dr. A.Well, well, I mean has she been searched?

But.(with dignity). I put my hand in her pocket, sir, and I looked under her shawl.

Dr. A.Well, you didn’t search her, but you putyour hand in her pocket, and you looked under her shawl. What did you find there?

But.A decanter of sherry, sir. (Producing it.)

Dr. A.(toMrs. V. B.) Your sherry, Mrs. Van Brugh?

But.Oursherry, Dr. Athelney.

Dr. A.Well, you hear what this man says; did you take this wine?

Ruth.Ay, I took it, sure enough.

Dr. A.Why did you take it?

Ruth.Why, to drink, of course. WhyshouldI take it?

Dr. A.Youshouldn’ttake it.

Ruth.Don’t you never take wine?

Dr. A.Not other people’s wine—except, of course, with their permission.

Ruth.Maybe you’ve got a cellar of your own.

Dr. A.Maybe I have.

Ruth.Well, maybeIhaven’t. That’s my answer.

Dr. A.Now, what are we to do with her?

Mrs. V. B.Leave her to me. Dr. Athelney, please remain here with me. Every one else, except the woman, leave the room.

But.She’s a desperate character, ma’am; it took six of us, including me, to bring her here.

Mrs. V. B.Never mind. Dr. Athelney and I will see her alone. Take your hands from her and go.

But.Hadn’t we better keep within hearing? If help was wanted——

Mrs. V. B.No help will be wanted. I am in earnest. Go. Shut the door. (TheServantsreluctantly depart.)

Ruth.You’re a cool hand, missis; ain’t you afeard on me?

Mrs. V. B.Not at all. Why should I be afraid of you? I mean you no harm.

Ruth.Who’s he?

Mrs. V. B.Dr. Athelney, a clergyman and a magistrate.

Ruth.Beak, is he? Well, let him make out the committal. Where’s it to be? Sessions?

Mrs. V. B.We have no wish to prosecute you. We wish to help you to arrive at a sense of right and wrong.

Ruth.Can’t it be done without a parson? I dunno much good o’ parsons. I’d rather it was done without a parson.

Dr. A.(kindly). Don’t think of me as a clergyman, if that calling is distasteful to you. Perhaps some day we may succeed in overcoming your prejudice. In the mean time, think of me only as a harmless old gentleman, who is willing and able to help you to earn your living respectably, if you desire to do so.

Ruth.Ah, I’ve come across the likes o’ you afore now. Three weeks agone comes a parson, as it might be you. “I’ve come to help you, poor fallen creetur,” says he; “I’ve come to tell you blessed truths, poor miserable outcast,” says he. “Readthat, wretched lost sheep,” says he. “I’ll call again in a month and see how you feel,” says he. A month! Heugh! When I was bad with fever the doctor come every day.Henever come no more. There’s ladies come odd times. I call to mind one—come in a carriageshedid. Same story—poor, miserable, lost one—wretched abandoned fellow-creetur, and that. She called me a brand from the burnin’, and wanted to stretch out a hand to save me,shedid. Well, she stretched it out, and I thought she meant it (for I was green then), and, fool-like, I took it, and kissed it. She screeched as though I’d bit her!

Mrs. V. B.Will you takemyhand?

Ruth.(astonished). Do you know what I am?

Mrs. V. B.Yes; I know well what you are. You are a woman who wants help, and I a woman who will help you. (Taking her hand).

Ruth.(much moved). Thankee, missis! you’ve spoke fair to me. I’ve had no one speak like that to me for many a long year. Thankee, missis. (Struggling with tears.) Don’t mind me. (Throws her apron over her face and sobs.) Theywillcome odd times!

Mrs. V. B.Will you tell me your name?

Ruth.Ruth Tredgett. I come from Cambridge.

Dr. A.Born there?

Ruth.I dunno as I was born there, but I come from there.

Dr. A.What are you?

Ruth.I s’pose I’m a thief. I s’pose I’m what gentlefolk thinks is wus than a thief. God help me! I s’pose I’m as bad as I can be. (Weeping.)

Mrs. V. B.Are your parents alive?

Ruth.No, I never had no father—my mother was such as me. See here, lady. Wot’s to become of a gal whose mother was such as me? Mother! Why, I could swear afore I could walk!

Dr. A.But were you not brought up to any calling?

Ruth.Yes, sir, I were; I were brought up to be a thief. Every soul as I knowed was a thief, and the best thief was the best thought on. Maybe a kid not long born ought to have knowed better. I dunno, I must ha’ been born bad, for it seemed right enough to me. Well, it wasinprison andouto’ prison—three months here and six months there—till I was sixteen. I sometimes thinks as if they’d bin half as ready to show me how to go right as they was to punish me for goin’ wrong, I might have took the right turnin’ and stuck to it afore this. At sixteen I got seven year for shopliftin’, and was sent out to Port Philip. I soon got a ticket and tried service and needlework, but no one wouldn’t have me; and I got sick and tired of it all, and began to think o’ putting a end to it, when I met a smooth-spoken chap—a gentleman, if you please—as wanted to save me from the danger afore me. Well, wot odds? He was a psalm-singing villain, and he soon left me. Noneed to tell the rest—to such as you it can’t be told. I’m ’most as bad as I can be—as bad as I can be!

Mrs. V. B.I think not; I think not. What do you say, Doctor?

Dr. A.(struggling with his tears). Say, ma’am? I say that you, Ruth Tredgett, have been a most discreditable person, and you ought to be heartily ashamed of yourself, Ruth Tredgett; and as a clergyman of the Church of England I feel bound to tell you that—that your life has been—has been what God knows it couldn’t well have helped being under the circumstances.

Mrs. V. B.Ruth Tredgett, I am very, very sorry for you. If you are willing to leave this unhappy course of life I will provide you with the means of earning your living honestly.

Ruth.Honestly! Why, lady, I’m too fur gone for that!

Mrs. V. B.I hope not. I have assisted many, very many such women as yourself, and I have seldom found my efforts wasted.

Ruth.But you—a lady, high-born, high-bred, beautiful, rich, good—(In amazement.)

Mrs. V. B.Hush. (Rises.) No matter what I am. (With emotion.) Who shall say what the very best of us might not have been but for the accident of education and good example? Tell me, Ruth Tredgett, will you accept my offer?

Ruth.(kneels at her feet and looks up into her face). I will!

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