your true and brave and generous heart; and if you pardoned me for
mistaking you a single moment for one who had neither soul nor heart, I
could never look you in the face again!"
_Bartlett._--"You seem to be taking a good provisional glare at me
beforehand, then, Miss Wyatt. I've never been so nearly looked out of
countenance in my life. But you needn't be afraid; I shall not pardon
your crime." Constance abruptly drops her head upon his breast, and
again instantly repels herself.
_Constance._--"No, you must not if you could. But you can't--you can't
care for me after hearing what I could say to my father"--
_Bartlett._--"That was in a moment of great excitement."
_Constance._--"After hearing me rave about a man so unworthy of--any
one--you cared for. No, your self-respect--everything--demands that you
should cast me off."
_Bartlett._--"It does. But I am inexorable,--you must have observed the
trait before. In this case I will not yield even to my own colossal
self-respect." Earnestly: "Ah, Constance, do you think I could love you
the less because your heart was too true to swerve even from a traitor
till he was proved as false to honour as to you?" Lightly again: "Come,
I like your fidelity to worthless people; I'm rather a deep and darkling
villain myself."
_Constance_, devoutly.--"You? Oh, you are as nobly frank and open
as--as--as papa!"
_Bartlett._--"No, Constance, you are wrong, for once. Hear my dreadful
secret; I'm not what I seem,--the light and joyous creature I look,--I'm
an emotional wreck. Three short years ago, I was frightfully
jilted"--they all turn upon him in surprise--"by a young person who, I'm
sorry to say, hasn't yet consoled me by turning out a scamp."
_Constance_, drifting to his side with a radiant smile.--"Oh, I'm _so_
glad."
_Bartlett_, with affected dryness.--"Are you? I didn't know it was such
a laughing matter. I was always disposed to take those things
seriously."
_Constance._--"Yes, yes! But don't you see? It places us on more of an
equality." She looks at him with a smile of rapture and logic
exquisitely compact.
_Bartlett._--"Does it? But you're not half as happy as I am."
_Constance._--"Oh yes, I am! Twice."
_Bartlett._--"Then that makes us just even, for so am I." They stand
ridiculously blest, holding each other's hand a moment, and then
Constance, still clinging to one of his hands, goes and rests her other
arm upon her mother's shoulder.
_Constance._--"Mamma, how wretched I have made you, all these months!"
_Mrs. Wyatt._--"If your trouble's over now, my child,"--she tenderly
kisses her cheek,--"there's no trouble for your mother in the world."
_Constance._--"But I'm not happy, mamma. I can't be happy, thinking how
wickedly unhappy I've been. No, no! I had better go back to the old
wretched state again; it's all I'm fit for. I'm _so_ ashamed of myself.
Send him away!" She renews her hold upon his hand.
_Bartlett._--"Nothing of the kind. I was requested to remain here six
weeks ago, by a young lady. Besides, this is a public house. Come, I
haven't finished the catalogue of my disagreeable qualities yet. I'm
jealous. I want you to put that arm on _my_ shoulder." He gently effects
the desired transfer, and then, chancing to look up, he discovers the
Rev. Arthur Cummings on the threshold in the act of modestly retreating.
He detains him with a great melodramatic start. "Hah! A clergyman! This
is indeed ominous!"
THE PARLOUR CAR.
A FARCE.
THE PARLOUR CAR.
A FARCE.
SCENE: _A Parlour Car on the New York Central Railroad. It is late
afternoon in the early autumn, with a cloudy sunset threatening
rain. The car is unoccupied save by a gentleman, who sits fronting
one of the windows, with his feet in another chair; a newspaper
lies across his lap; his hat is drawn down over his eyes, and he is
apparently asleep. The rear door of the car opens, and the
conductor enters with a young lady, heavily veiled, the porter
coming after with her wraps and travelling-bags. The lady's air is
of mingled anxiety and desperation, with a certain fierceness of
movement. She casts a careless glance over the empty chairs._
_Conductor._--"Here's your ticket, madam. You can have any of the
places you like here, or,"--glancing at the unconscious gentleman, and
then at the young lady--"if you prefer, you can go and take that seat in
the forward car."
_Miss Lucy Galbraith._--"Oh, I can't ride backwards. I'll stay here,
please. Thank you." The porter places her things in a chair by a window,
across the car from the sleeping gentleman, and she throws herself
wearily into the next seat, wheels round in it, and lifting her veil
gazes absently out at the landscape. Her face, which is very pretty,
with a low forehead shadowed by thick, blonde hair, shows the traces of
tears. She makes search in her pocket for her handkerchief, which she
presses to her eyes. The conductor, lingering a moment, goes out.
_Porter._--"I'll be right here, at de end of de cah, if you should
happen to want anything, miss,"--making a feint of arranging the shawls
and satchels. "Should you like some dese things hung up? Well, dey'll be
jus' as well in de chair. We's pretty late dis afternoon; more 'n four
hours behin' time. Ought to been into Albany 'fore dis. Freight train
off de track jus' dis side o' Rochester, an' had to wait. Was you goin'
to stop at Schenectady, miss?"
_Miss G._, absently.--"At Schenectady?" After a pause, "Yes."
_Porter._--"Well, that's de next station, and den de cahs don't stop
ag'in till dey git to Albany. Anything else I can do for you now, miss?"
_Miss G._--"No, no, thank you, nothing." The porter hesitates, takes off
his cap, and scratches his head with a murmur of embarrassment. Miss
Galbraith looks up at him inquiringly, and then suddenly takes out her
porte-monnaie and fees him.
_Porter._--"Thank you, miss, thank you. If you want anything at all,
miss, I'm right dere at de end of de cah." He goes out by the narrow
passage-way beside the smaller enclosed parlour. Miss Galbraith looks
askance at the sleeping gentleman, and then, rising, goes to the large
mirror, to pin her veil, which has become loosened from her hat. She
gives a little start at sight of the gentleman in the mirror, but
arranges her head-gear, and returning to her place looks out of the
window again. After a little while she moves about uneasily in her
chair, then leans forward and tries to raise her window; she lifts it
partly up, when the catch slips from her fingers and the window falls
shut again with a crash.
_Miss G._--"O _dear_, how provoking! I suppose I must call the porter."
She rises from her seat, but on attempting to move away she finds that
the skirt of her polonaise has been caught in the falling window. She
pulls at it, and then tries to lift the window again, but the cloth has
wedged it in, and she cannot stir it. "Well, I certainly think this is
beyond endurance! Porter! Ah--porter! Oh, he'll never hear me in the
racket that these wheels are making! I wish they'd stop--I"--
The gentleman stirs in his chair, lifts his head, listens, takes his
feet down from the other seat, rises abruptly, and comes to Miss
Galbraith's side.
_Mr. Allen Richards._--"Will you allow me to open the window for you?"
Starting back, "Miss Galbraith!"
_Miss G._--"Al--Mr. Richards!" There is a silence for some moments, in
which they remain looking at each other; then,
_Mr. Richards._--"Lucy"--
_Miss G._--"I forbid you to address me in that way, Mr. Richards."
_Mr. R._--"Why, you were just going to call me Allen!"
_Miss G._--"That was an accident, you know very well--an impulse."
_Mr. R._--"Well, so is this."
_Miss G._--"Of which you ought to be ashamed to take advantage. I wonder
at your presumption in speaking to me at all. It's quite idle, I can
assure you. Everything is at an end between us. It seems that I bore
with you too long; but I'm thankful that I had the spirit to act at
last, and to act in time. And now that chance has thrown us together, I
trust that you will not force your conversation upon me. No gentleman
would, and I have always given you credit for thinking yourself a
gentleman. I request that you will not speak to me."
_Mr. R._--"You've spoken ten words to me for every one of mine to you.
But I won't annoy you. I can't believe it, Lucy; I can _not_ believe it.
It seems like some rascally dream, and if I had had any sleep since it
happened, I should think I _had_ dreamed it."
_Miss G._--"Oh! You were sleeping soundly enough when I got into the
car!"
_Mr. R._--"I own it; I was perfectly used up, and I _had_ dropped off."
_Miss G._, scornfully.--"Then perhaps you _have_ dreamed it."
_Mr. R._--"I'll think so till you tell me again that our engagement is
broken; that the faithful love of years is to go for nothing; that you
dismiss me with cruel insult, without one word of explanation, without a
word of intelligible accusation, even. It's too much! I've been thinking
it all over and over, and I can't make head or tail of it. I meant to
see you again as soon as we got to town, and implore you to hear me.
Come, it's a mighty serious matter, Lucy. I'm not a man to put on
heroics and that; but _I_ believe it'll play the very deuce with me,
Lucy,--that is to say, Miss Galbraith,--I do indeed. It'll give me a low
opinion of woman."
_Miss G._, averting her face.--"Oh, a very high opinion of woman you
have had!"
_Mr. R._, with sentiment.--"Well, there was one woman whom I thought a
perfect angel."
_Miss G._--"Indeed! May I ask her name?"
_Mr. R._, with a forlorn smile.--"I shall be obliged to describe her
somewhat formally as--Miss Galbraith."
_Miss G._--"Mr. Richards!"
_Mr. R._--"Why, you've just forbidden me to say _Lucy_. You must tell
me, dearest, what I have done to offend you. The worst criminals are not
condemned unheard, and I've always thought you were merciful if not
just. And now I only ask you to be just."
_Miss G._, looking out of the window.--"You know very well what you've
done. You can't expect me to humiliate myself by putting your offence
into words."
_Mr. R._--"Upon my soul, I don't know what you mean! I _don't_ know what
I've done. When you came at me, last night, with my ring and presents
and other little traps, you might have knocked me down with the lightest
of the lot. I was perfectly dazed; I couldn't say anything before you
were off, and all I could do was to hope that you'd be more like
yourself in the morning. And in the morning, when I came round to Mrs.
Phillips's I found you were gone, and I came after you by the next
train."
_Miss G._--"Mr. Richards, your personal history for the last
twenty-four hours is a matter of perfect indifference to me, as it shall
be for the next twenty-four hundred years. I see that you are resolved
to annoy me, and since _you_ will not leave the car, _I_ must do so."
She rises haughtily from her seat, but the imprisoned skirt of her
polonaise twitches her abruptly back into her chair. She bursts into
tears. "Oh, what _shall_ I do!"
_Mr. R._, dryly.--"You shall do whatever you like, Miss Galbraith, when
I've set you free; for I see your dress is caught in the window. When
it's once out, I'll shut the window, and you can call the porter to
raise it." He leans forward over her chair, and while she shrinks back
the length of her tether, he tugs at the window-fastening. "I can't get
at it. Would you be so good as to stand up,--all you can?" Miss
Galbraith stands up, droopingly, and Mr. Richards makes a movement
towards her, and then falls back. "No, that won't do. Please sit down
again." He goes round her chair and tries to get at the window from that
side. "I can't get any purchase on it. Why don't you cut out that
piece?" Miss Galbraith stares at him in dumb amazement. "Well, I don't
see what we're to do. I'll go and get the porter." He goes to the end of
the car, and returns. "I can't find the porter--he must be in one of the
other cars. But"--brightening with the fortunate conception--"I've just
thought of something. Will it unbutton?"
_Miss G._--"Unbutton?"
_Mr. R._--"Yes; this garment of yours."
_Miss G._--"My polonaise?" Inquiringly: "Yes."
_Mr. R._--"Well, then, it's a very simple matter. If you will just take
it off I can easily"--
_Miss G._, faintly.--"I can't. A polonaise isn't like an _over_coat"--
_Mr. R._, with dismay.--"Oh! Well, then"--He remains thinking a moment
in hopeless perplexity.
_Miss G._, with polite ceremony.--"The porter will be back soon. Don't
trouble yourself any further about it, please. I shall do very well."
_Mr. R._, without heeding her.--"If you could kneel on that foot-cushion
and face the window"--
_Miss G._, kneeling promptly.--"So?"
_Mr. R._--"Yes, and now"--kneeling beside her--"if you'll allow me
to--to get at the window catch,"--he stretches both arms forward; she
shrinks from his right into his left, and then back again,--"and pull,
while I raise the window"--
_Miss G._--"Yes, yes; but do hurry, please. If any one saw us, I don't
know what they would think. It's perfectly ridiculous!"--pulling. "It's
caught in the corner of the window, between the frame and the sash, and
it won't come! Is my hair troubling you? Is it in your eyes?"
_Mr. R._--"It's in my eyes, but it isn't troubling me. Am I
inconveniencing you?"
_Miss G._--"Oh, not at all."
_Mr. R._--"Well, now then, pull hard!" He lifts the window with a great
effort; the polonaise comes free with a start, and she strikes violently
against him. In supporting the shock he cannot forbear catching her for
an instant to his heart. She frees herself, and starts indignantly to
her feet.
_Miss G._--"Oh, what a cowardly--subterfuge!"
_Mr. R._--"Cowardly? You've no idea how much courage it took." Miss
Galbraith puts her handkerchief to her face and sobs. "Oh, don't cry!
Bless my heart--I'm sorry I did it! But you know how dearly I love you,
Lucy, though I do think you've been cruelly unjust. I told you I never
should love anyone else, and I never shall. I couldn't help it, upon my
soul I couldn't. Nobody could. Don't let it vex you, my"--He approaches
her.
_Miss G._--"Please not touch me, sir! You have no longer any right
whatever to do so."
_Mr. R._--"You misinterpret a very inoffensive gesture. I have no idea
of touching you, but I hope I may be allowed, as a special favour,
to--pick up my hat, which you are in the act of stepping on." Miss
Galbraith hastily turns, and strikes the hat with her whirling skirts;
it rolls to the other side of the parlour, and Mr. Richards, who goes
after it, utters an ironical "Thanks!" He brushes it and puts it on,
looking at her where she has again seated herself at the window with her
back to him, and continues, "As for any further molestation from me"--
_Miss G._--"If you _will_ talk to me"--
_Mr. R._--"Excuse me, I am not talking to you."
_Miss G._--"What were you doing?"
_Mr. R._--"I was beginning to think aloud. I--I was soliloquising. I
suppose I may be allowed to soliloquise?"
_Miss G._, very coldly.--"You can do what you like."
_Mr. R._--"Unfortunately that's just what I can't do. If I could do as
I liked, I should ask you a single question."
_Miss G._, after a moment.--"Well, sir, you may ask your question." She
remains as before, with her chin in her hand, looking tearfully out of
the window; her face is turned from Mr. Richards, who hesitates a
moment, before he speaks.
_Mr. R._--"I wish to ask you just this, Miss Galbraith: if you couldn't
ride backwards in the other car, why do you ride backwards in this?"
_Miss G._, burying her face in her handkerchief, and sobbing.--"Oh, oh,
oh! This is too bad!"
_Mr. R._--"Oh, come now, Lucy. It breaks my heart to hear you going on
so, and all for nothing. Be a little merciful to both of us, and listen
to me. I've no doubt I can explain everything if I once understand it,
but it's pretty hard explaining a thing if you don't understand it
yourself. Do turn round. I know it makes you sick to ride in that way,
and if you don't want to face me--there!"--wheeling in his chair so as
to turn his back upon her--"you needn't. Though it's rather trying to a
fellow's politeness, not to mention his other feelings. Now, what in the
name"--
_Porter_, who at this moment enters with his step-ladder, and begins to
light the lamps.--"Going pretty slow ag'in, sah."
_Mr. R._--"Yes; what's the trouble?"
_Porter._--"Well, I don't know exactly, sah. Something de matter with de
locomotive. We shan't be into Albany much 'fore eight o'clock."
_Mr. R._--"What's the next station?"
_Porter._--"Schenectady."
_Mr. R._--"Is the whole train as empty as this car?"
_Porter_, laughing.--"Well, no, sah. Fact is, _dis_ cah don't belong on
dis train. It's a Pullman that we hitched on when you got in, and we's
taking it along for one of de Eastern roads. We let you in 'cause de
Drawing-rooms was all full. Same with de lady"--looking sympathetically
at her, as he takes up his steps to go out. "Can I do anything for you
now, miss?"
_Miss G._, plaintively.--"No, thank you; nothing whatever." She has
turned while Mr. Richards and the porter have been speaking, and now
faces the back of the former, but her veil is drawn closely. The porter
goes out.
_Mr. R._, wheeling round so as to confront her.--"I wish you would
speak to me half as kindly as you do to that darky, Lucy."
_Miss G._--"_He_ is a gentleman!"
_Mr. R._--"He is an urbane and well-informed nobleman. At any rate,
he's a man and a brother. But so am I." Miss Galbraith does not reply,
and after a pause Mr. Richards resumes. "Talking of gentlemen: I
recollect, once, coming up on the day-boat to Poughkeepsie, there was a
poor devil of a tipsy man kept following a young fellow about, and
annoying him to death--trying to fight him, as a tipsy man will, and
insisting that the young fellow had insulted him. By-and-by he lost his
balance, and went overboard, and the other jumped after him and fished
him out." Sensation on the part of Miss Galbraith, who stirs uneasily in
her chair, looks out of the window, then looks at Mr. Richards, and
drops her head. "There was a young lady on board, who had seen the whole
thing--a very charming young lady indeed, with pale blonde hair growing
very thick over her forehead, and dark eye-lashes to the sweetest blue
eyes in the world. Well, this young lady's papa was amongst those who
came up to say civil things to the young fellow when he got aboard
again, and to ask the honour--he said the _honour_--of his acquaintance.
And when he came out of his state-room in dry clothes, this infatuated
old gentleman was waiting for him, and took him and introduced him to
his wife and daughter. And the daughter said, with tears in her eyes,
and a perfectly intoxicating impulsiveness, that it was the grandest and
the most heroic and the noblest thing that she had ever seen, and she
should always be a better girl for having seen it. Excuse me, Miss
Galbraith, for troubling you with these facts of a personal history
which, as you say, is a matter of perfect indifference to you. The young
fellow didn't think at the time he had done anything extraordinary; but
I don't suppose he _did_ expect to live to have the same girl tell him
he was no gentleman."
_Miss G._, wildly.--"Oh, Allen, Allen! You _know_ I think you are a
gentleman, and I always did!"
_Mr. R._, languidly.--"Oh, I merely had your word for it, just now, that
you didn't." Tenderly.--"Will you hear me, Lucy?"
_Miss G._, faintly.--"Yes."
_Mr. R._--"Well, what is it I've done? Will you tell me if I guess
right?"
_Miss G._, with dignity.--"I am in no humour for jesting, Allen. And I
can assure you that though I consent to hear what you have to say, or
ask, _nothing_ will change my determination. All is over between us."
_Mr. R._--"Yes, I understand that perfectly. I am now asking merely for
general information. I do not expect you to relent, and in fact I should
consider it rather frivolous if you did. No. What I have always admired
in your character, Lucy, is a firm, logical consistency; a clearness of
mental vision that leaves no side of a subject unsearched; and an
unwavering constancy of purpose. You may say that these traits are
characteristic of _all_ women; but they are pre-eminently characteristic
of you, Lucy." Miss Galbraith looks askance at him, to make out whether
he is in earnest or not; he continues, with a perfectly serious air.
"And I know now that if you're offended with me, it's for no trivial
cause." She stirs uncomfortably in her chair. "What I have done I can't
imagine, but it must be something monstrous, since it has made life with
me appear so impossible that you are ready to fling away your own
happiness--for I know you _did_ love me, Lucy--and destroy mine. I will
begin with the worst thing I can think of. Was it because I danced so
much with Fanny Watervliet?"
_Miss G._, indignantly.--"How can you insult me by supposing that I
could be jealous of such a _perfect_ little goose as that? No, Allen!
Whatever I think of you, I _still_ respect you too much for _that_."
_Mr. R._--"I'm glad to hear that there are yet depths to which you think
me incapable of descending, and that Miss Watervliet is one of them. I
will now take a little higher ground. Perhaps you think I flirted with
Mrs. Dawes. I thought, myself, that the thing might begin to have that
appearance, but I give you my word of honour that as soon as the idea
occurred to me, I dropped her,--rather rudely, too. The trouble was,
don't you know, that I felt so perfectly safe with a _married_ friend of
yours. I couldn't be hanging about you all the time, and I was afraid I
might vex you if I went with the other girls; and I didn't know what to
do."
_Miss G._--"I think you behaved rather silly, giggling so much with her.
But"--
_Mr. R._--"I own it, I know it was silly. But"--
_Miss G._--"It wasn't that; it wasn't that!"
_Mr. R._--"Was it my forgetting to bring you those things from your
mother?"
_Miss G._--"No!"
_Mr. R._--"Was it because I hadn't given up smoking yet?"
_Miss G._--"You _know_ I never asked you to give up smoking. It was
entirely your own proposition."
_Mr. R._--"That's true. That's what made me so easy about it. I knew I
could leave it off _any_ time. Well, I will not disturb you any longer,
Miss Galbraith." He throws his overcoat across his arm, and takes up his
travelling-bag. "I have failed to guess your fatal--conundrum; and I
have no longer any excuse for remaining. I am going into the
smoking-car. Shall I send the porter to you for anything?"
_Miss G._--"No, thanks." She puts up her handkerchief to her face.
_Mr. R._--"Lucy, do you send me away?"
_Miss G._, behind her handkerchief.--"You were going, yourself."
_Mr. R._, over his shoulder.--"Shall I come back?"
_Miss G._--"I have no right to drive you from the car."
_Mr. R._, coming back, and sitting down in the chair nearest
her.--"Lucy, dearest, tell me what's the matter."
_Miss G._--"Oh, Allen, your not _knowing_ makes it all the more hopeless
and killing. It shows me that we _must_ part; that you would go on,
breaking my heart, and grinding me into the dust as long as we lived."
She sobs. "It shows me that you never understood me, and you never will.
I know you're good and kind and all that, but that only makes your not
understanding me so much the worse. I do it quite as much for your sake
as my own, Allen."
_Mr. R._--"I'd much rather you wouldn't put yourself out on my account."
_Miss G._, without regarding him.--"If you could mortify me before a
whole roomful of people as you did last night, what could I expect after
marriage but continual insult?"
_Mr. R._, in amazement.--"_How_ did I mortify you? I thought that I
treated you with all the tenderness and affection that a decent regard
for the feelings of others would allow. I was ashamed to find I couldn't
keep away from you."
_Miss G._--"O, you were _attentive_ enough, Allen; nobody denies that.
Attentive enough in non-essentials. O yes!"
_Mr. R._--"Well, what vital matters did I fail in? I'm sure I can't
remember."
_Miss G._--"I dare say! I dare say they won't appear vital to you,
Allen. Nothing does. And if I had told you, I should have been met with
ridicule, I suppose. But I knew _better_ than to tell; I respected
myself too _much_."