CARNABY. My mother's very old . . . your grandfather's younger and
seventy-nine . . he swears I'll never come into the title. There's
little else.
SARAH. You're feverish . . why are you saying this?
CARNABY. Ann . . George . . George via Wycombe . . Wycombe Court . . Sir
George Leete baronet, Justice of the Peace, Deputy Lieutenant . . the
thought's tumbled. Ann, I first saw your mother in this garden . .
there.
ANN. Was she like me?
SARAH. My age when she married.
CARNABY. She was not beautiful . . then she died.
ANN. Mr. Tatton thinks it a romantic garden.
CARNABY. [_Pause._] D'ye hear the wind sighing through that tree?
ANN. The air's quite still.
CARNABY. I hear myself sighing . . when I first saw your mother in this
garden . . . that's how it was done.
SARAH. For a woman must marry.
CARNABY. [_Rises._] You all take to it as ducks to water . . but apple
sauce is quite correct . . I must not mix metaphors.
MRS. OPIE _comes from the house_.
SARAH. Your supper done, Mrs. Opie?
MRS. OPIE. I eat little in the evening.
SARAH. I believe that saves digestion.
MRS. OPIE. Ann, do you need me more to-night?
ANN. Not any more.
MRS. OPIE. Ann, there is gossip among the servants about a wager . . .
ANN. Mrs. Opie, that was . . . yesterday.
MRS. OPIE. Ann, I should be glad to be able to contradict a reported . .
embrace.
ANN. I was kissed.
MRS. OPIE. I am shocked.
CARNABY. Mrs. Opie, is it possible that all these years I have been
nourishing a prude in my . . back drawing-room?
MRS. OPIE. I presume I am discharged of Ann's education; but as the
salaried mistress of your household, Mr. Leete, I am grieved not to be
able to deny such a rumour to your servants.
_She sails back, righteously indignant._
CARNABY. Call out that you're marrying the wicked man . . comfort her.
SARAH. Mrs. Opie!
CARNABY. Consider that existence. An old maid . . so far as we know.
Brevet rank . . missis. Not pleasant.
ANN. She wants nothing better . . at her age.
SARAH. How forgetful!
CARNABY. [_The force of the phrase growing._] Brighton, Sarah.
SARAH. Now you've both read the love-letter which Tetgeen brought me.
CARNABY. Come to Brighton.
ANN. Come to Brighton, Sally.
SARAH. No. I have been thinking. I think I will accept the income, the
house, coals, butter and eggs.
CARNABY. I give you a fortnight to bring your husband to his knees . .
to your feet.
SARAH. I'm not sure that I could. My marriage has come naturally to an
end.
CARNABY. Sarah, don't annoy me.
SARAH. Papa, you joined my bridegroom's political party . . now you see
fit to leave it.
_She glances at_ ANN, _who gives no sign, however_.
CARNABY. What have you been doing in ten years?
SARAH. Waiting for this to happen . . now I come to think.
CARNABY. Have ye the impudence to tell me that ye've never cared for
your husband?
SARAH. I was caught by the first few kisses; but he . . .
CARNABY. Has he ever been unkind to you?
SARAH. Never. He's a gentleman through and through . . . quite charming
to live with.
CARNABY. I see what more you expect. And he neither drinks nor . . nor
. . no one even could suppose your leaving him.
SARAH. No. I'm disgraced.
CARNABY. Fight for your honour.
SARAH. You surprise me sometimes by breaking out into cant phrases.
CARNABY. What is more useful in the world than honour?
SARAH. I think we never had any . . we!
CARNABY. Give me more details. Tell me, who is this man?
SARAH. I'm innocent . . if that were all.
ANN. Sally, what do they say you've done?
SARAH. I cry out like any poor girl.
CARNABY. There must be no doubt that you're innocent. Why not go for to
force Charles into court?
SARAH. My innocence is not of the sort which shows up well.
CARNABY. Hold publicity in reserve. No fear of the two men arranging to
meet, is there?
SARAH. They've met . . and they chatted about me.
CARNABY. [_After a moment._] There's sound humour in that.
SARAH. I shall feel able to laugh at them both from Yorkshire.
CARNABY. God forbid! Come to Brighton . . we'll rally Charles no end.
SARAH. Papa, I know there's nothing to be done.
CARNABY. Coward!
SARAH. Besides I don't think I want to go back to my happiness.
_They are silent for a little._
CARNABY. How still! Look . . leaves falling already. Can that man hear
what we're saying?
SARAH. [_To_ ANN.] Can Abud overhear?
ANN. I've never talked secrets in the garden before to-day. [_Raising
her voice but a very little._] Can you hear me, Abud?
_No reply comes._
CARNABY. Evidently not. There's brains shown in a trifle.
SARAH. Does your arm pain you so much?
ANN. Sarah, this man that you're fond of and that's not your husband is
not by any chance Lord John Carp?
SARAH. No.
ANN. Nothing would surprise me.
SARAH. You are witty . . but a little young to be so hard.
CARNABY. Keep to your innocent thoughts.
ANN. I must study politics.
SARAH. We'll stop talking of this.
ANN. No . . let me listen . . quite quietly.
CARNABY. Let her listen . . she's going to be married.
SARAH. Good luck, Ann.
CARNABY. I have great hopes of Ann.
SARAH. I hope she may be heartless. To be heartless is to be quite safe.
CARNABY. Now we detect a taste of sour grapes in your mouth.
SARAH. Butter and eggs.
CARNABY. We must all start early in the morning. Sarah will take you,
Ann, round the Brighton shops . . fine shops. You shall have the
money. . .
SARAH. I will not come with you.
CARNABY. [_Vexedly._] How absurd . . how ridiculous . . to persist in
your silly sentiment.
SARAH. [_Her voice rising._] I'm tired of that world . . which goes on
and on, and there's no dying . . . one grows into a ghost . . visible . .
then invisible. I'm glad paint has gone out of fashion. . . the
painted ghosts were very ill to see.
CARNABY. D'ye scoff at civilisation?
SARAH. Look ahead for me.
CARNABY. Banished to a hole in the damned provinces! But you're young
yet, you're charming . . you're the wife . . and the honest wife of one
of the country's best men. My head aches. D'ye despise good fortune's
gifts? Keep as straight in your place in the world as you can. A monthly
packet of books to Yorkshire . . no . . you never were fond of reading.
Ye'd play patience . . cultivate chess problems . . kill yourself!
SARAH. When one world fails take another.
CARNABY. You have no more right to commit suicide than to desert the
society you were born into. My head aches.
SARAH. George is happy.
CARNABY. D'ye dare to think so?
SARAH. No. . it's a horrible marriage.
CARNABY. He's losing refinement . . mark me . . he no longer polishes
his nails.
SARAH. But there are the children now.
CARNABY. You never have wanted children.
SARAH. I don't want a little child.
CARNABY. She to be Lady Leete . . someday . . soon! What has he done for
his family?
SARAH. I'll come with you. You are clever, Papa. And I know just what to
say to Charles.
CARNABY. [_With a curious change of tone._] If you study anatomy you'll
find that the brain, as it works, pressing forward the eyes . . thought
is painful. Never be defeated. Chapter the latest . . the tickling of
the Carp. And my throat is dry . . shall I drink that water?
SARAH. No, I wouldn't.
CARNABY. Not out of my hand?
ANN. [_Speaking in a strange quiet voice, after her long silence._] I
will not come to Brighton with you.
CARNABY. Very dry!
ANN. You must go back, Sally.
CARNABY. [_As he looks at her, standing stiffly._] Now what is Ann's
height . . five feet . . ?
ANN. Sally must go back, for she belongs to it . . but I'll stay here
where I belong.
CARNABY. You've spoken three times and the words are jumbling in at my
ears meaninglessly. I certainly took too much wine at dinner . . or
else. . . Yes . . Sally goes back. . and you'll go forward. Who stays
here? Don't burlesque your sister. What's in the air . . what disease is
this?
ANN. I mean to disobey you . . to stay here . . never to be unhappy.
CARNABY. So pleased!
ANN. I want to be an ordinary woman . . not clever . . not fortunate.
CARNABY. I can't hear.
ANN. Not clever. I don't believe in you, Papa.
CARNABY. I exist . . I'm very sorry.
ANN. I won't be married to any man. I refuse to be tempted . . I won't
see him again.
CARNABY. Yes. It's raining.
SARAH. Raining!
CARNABY. Don't you stop it raining.
ANN. [_In the same level tones, to her sister now, who otherwise would
turn, alarmed, to their father._] And I curse you . . because, we being
sisters, I suppose I am much what you were, about to be married; and I
think, Sally, you'd have cursed your present self. I could become all
that you are and more . . but I don't choose.
SARAH. Ann, what is to become of you?
CARNABY. Big drops . . big drops!
_At this moment_ ABUD _is passing towards the house, his work finished_.
ANN. John Abud . . you mean to marry. When you marry . . will you marry
me?
_A blank silence, into which breaks_ CARNABY'S _sick voice_.
CARNABY. Take me indoors. I heard you ask the gardener to marry you.
ANN. I asked him.
CARNABY. I heard you say that you asked him. Take me in . . but not out
of the rain.
ANN. Look . . he's straight-limbed and clear eyed . . and I'm a woman.
SARAH. Ann, are you mad?
ANN. If we two were alone here in this garden and everyone else in the
world were dead . . what would you answer?
ABUD. [_Still amazed._] Why . . yes.
CARNABY. Then that's settled . . pellucid.
_He attempts to rise, but staggers backwards and forwards._ SARAH _goes
to him alarmed_.
SARAH. Papa! . . there's no rain yet.
CARNABY. Hush, I'm dead.
ANN. [_Her nerves failing her._] Oh . . oh . . oh . . !
SARAH. Abud, don't ever speak of this.
ABUD. No, my lady.
ANN. [_With a final effort._] I mean it all. Wait three months.
CARNABY. Help me up steps . . son-in-law.
CARNABY _has started to grope his way indoors. But he reels and falls
helpless._
ABUD. I'll carry him.
_Throwing down his tools_ ABUD _lifts the frail sick man and carries him
towards the house_. SARAH _follows_.
ANN. [_Sobbing a little, and weary._] Such a long day it has been . .
now ending.
_She follows too._