SIR W. Margaret, I---- (_turns sharply to JOE, who wears his hat_)
Take off your hat, Sir!
JOE. Eh?
SIR W. (_pointing to his hat_) Take off your hat, Sir!
MAR. I don't want to quarrel, and I won't quarrel, if you'll only be
kind to me; but I will be myself again, for since I've been married I
feel as if my head, and my arms, and my legs were all put on the wrong
way; and when I am myself again, if you don't like me I had better go
back to my father, he'll be fond of me if you won't--so come along,
Joe!
_She runs off, followed by JOE, L.H._
SIR W. I give it up! I can no longer pursue my darling theory--it's
all labour in vain!
PLATO. I told you so, my dear Sir William, I told you so when you
described the humble person you were about to honor with your
hand--that the union could not be a happy one.
SIR W. I admired her simplicity, her frankness--and I fondly imagined
that if I could unite such qualities with education, with refinement,
that I should create, as it were, a woman of perfection.
PLATO. You now perceive the error of your speculation--the inutility
of striving to elevate humanity from its natural position. There
_must_ exist separate grades of society--the patrician, the commoner,
and the plebeian--seek not to amalgamate,--the process may be very
well in a railroad, but with human nature it must ever create
incongruities. Where's Lady P.? Ah, there! could you have found
another woman like that, how different would have been your fate!
Well, as we have discussed the state of the nation, I must seek
her--she's in the house, no doubt fatigued with her journey. Don't
look so downcast, Sir William, there's no help for it now--make the
best of a bad bargain, for it's an excellent observation, that there's
no making a silk purse--I need say no more.
_Exit at back._
SIR W. I am sorry, very sorry, to see this sad result of all my
labour, and fear that much unhappiness is in store for both of us. How
can I introduce my wife to society? how can I pass my leisure in the
company of one so utterly uninformed, so incapable of conversation?
Ah! my uncle is indeed happy! Blessed with a woman of intellect, whose
natural graces harmonise so sweetly with her accomplishments, whose
refinement is so exquisite, _his_ life will pass like a dream of
bliss--like a---- Eh? (_looking off R.H.U.E._) my friend Augustus with
a lady? with my--no; yes, with my aunt! They are in earnest
conversation--she seems embarrassed, is weeping--what does it mean? He
clasps her hand, and she does not withdraw it--they come this way.
I--I feel in a very awkward situation! I would not for the world let
them be aware that I had seen them together--I had better retire, and
not notice them. I will; I feel as if I had not the moral courage to
face them. (_he is about to go off at the back--he stops_) They will
see me if I go that way. I quite tremble! they're here! I'll conceal
myself, and slip away as quickly as possible.
_He passes behind the stand of flowers, L.H., and remains there
unperceived by BLENHEIM and LADY PLATO, who enter R.H.D. at the same
moment._
BLEN. Permit me at least to _write_ occasionally to you.
LADY P. If you will bring every philosophical argument, every delicate
sophistry, to prove that one may have a confiding friend to whom one
may unfold the heart's dearest secrets, every emotion of the soul,
every joy, and every sorrow, not only with safety, but propriety, you
may, if you are discreet, periodically correspond with me.
BLEN. Then I am happy! and, though my blighted hopes must ever be my
theme, yet----
_SIR WILLIAM steals from his place of concealment towards a statue
near the door._
LADY P. Heavens! what's that? I heard a footstep!
BLEN. 'Tis no one!--why are you so alarmed, so agitated?
LADY P. Leave me now! you have not been seen; go out again by the gate
we saw near the shrubbery--it opens into the road. You returned here
on foot?
BLEN. I did.
LADY P. Go then, I implore you! and, when you again arrive, no one
need know that we have had this interview.
BLEN. Adieu! for the last time I press your hand to my lips!
_Enter MARGERY, L.H.D., in the dress of a country girl._
MAR. (_entering_) Now I am comfortable--now I do feel myself again!
(_seeing BLENHEIM and LADY PLATO_) Oh!
_BLENHEIM disappears, R.H.D.--LADY PLATO seems confused._
--Oh! don't mind me! I'm so glad I've caught you, though, for if such
a well-behaved gentleman as that is, can kiss my aunt's hand, there
can be no harm in my cousin kissing me.
LADY P. Listen, my dear friend. I do not wish it to transpire that I
have had an interview with the gentleman you saw just now--it would
but cause explanations that must lead to disagreeables, and they had
better be avoided. I shall therefore rely on your discretion.
MAR. On my what?
LADY P. Your keeping my secret.
MAR. Oh, I won't tell, if you mean that.
LADY P. Where's his lordship?
MAR. (_pointing L.H._) With my husband.
LADY P. Remember!
MAR. But stop, Polly--wouldn't it be better not to mind anybody
knowing anything? because it don't seem loving and cosy to be sly, and
to be frightened every minute in case somebody should say something
about somebody that would make somebody else angry, and get everybody
into trouble, and set everybody quarrelling with everybody. I don't
like it, Polly dear! where there's secrets there's no happiness, and
no love--ah! and no goodness, if you come to that.
LADY P. Dear Margery, I feel your reproof, sincerely feel it--oblige
me but for this once, and never, never will I again place myself in a
position that shall cause me to conceal one thought or action--I will
not, indeed!
MAR. Then you're a good girl, and I'll do my best this time, because I
know you'll keep your word with me. Good bye for the present. (_shakes
hands with her_)
_Exit LADY PLATO at back._
--I just now felt so comfortable when I found myself once more in my
old clothes, and was going to be so happy and so free, and now I'm in
trouble again! I don't like there being any secrets, and I know I'm
the worst in the world to keep one--and as to my not telling about the
Captain and my aunt having seen one another, I may try not to say a
word, but it's sure to slip out after dinner. What's Polly afraid of?
why does she want to make believe not to know her old sweetheart? and
I'm to help her in the make believe! I don't like it! and I feel now
as if I had stolen something, and had got it in my pocket, and that
somebody was coming to search me.
JOE. (_without_) I don't care! I'm as good as you are, any day!
_Enter JOE._
MAR. Why, Joe, what's the matter now?
JOE. What's the matter? why, when you put me in that room full o'
pictur's, and left me staring at 'em while you went to take off your
grand clothes, your fine husband came in. "Hallo!" says he, "don't
stand in the chairs." "How can I see the pictures if I don't?" says I.
"Sit down," says he. Well, I did sit down--then he was at me again,
and told me to go out of the room, and I said I shouldn't--that my
cousin had took me in, and neither he nor six of his servants should
take me out.
MAR. That was wrong, Joe.
JOE. Then one word brought up another till I said something and then
he said something, and then I said something, and then he took me by
the collar of my coat and kicked me down stairs.
MAR. And served you just right.
JOE. Eh?
MAR. You had no business to be impudent to my husband, if you _are_ my
cousin. What did you say?
JOE. I didn't say much, only he bothered me so that I up and called
him----
MAR. What?
JOE. A d--d fool!
MAR. You did?
JOE. Yes; and why didn't he come down and fight it out on the grass
like a man? I'd ha' soon ha' 'molished him.
MAR. You would? and did you dare to call my husband names, and such a
name? There, there, there, and there!
_She seizes him by the collar with her left hand, and thrashes him
with her right, and finishes by knocking his hat over his eyes, as SIR
WILLIAM and LORD and LADY PLATO appear at the back._
--(_running to SIR WILLIAM_) I'm so glad you've come, my dear--he
won't behave bad any more, _I_ can promise--I've given him such a
thrashing!
JOE. I won't come _here_ again, _I_ know! I came to see my cousin that
was once so fond o' me, only to bid her good bye, and I haven't been
in the house more nor half-an-hour, and I've been kicked and thumped
about by everybody. I shall go to my new place with, a black eye, I
know.
SIR W. My dear Margery, there was no necessity for being so severe
with your cousin, I had sufficiently corrected him, though I must
confess that I have not witnessed this proof of the openness of your
heart, and the striking simplicity of your nature, without a feeling
of gratification.
_Enter BLENHEIM, at the back._
BLEN. Ah, Sir William! I am afraid I am a little over my time. I beg
your pardon--I was not aware you had strangers.
SIR W. (_confused_) My uncle, and--and his wife. I thought you might
be already acquainted.
PLATO. And so we _are_, now I look again--'tis Captain Blenheim, the
son of an old friend. Allow me to introduce you to Lady Plato, my
dear--you will be charmed to make the lady's acquaintance.
LADY P. (_curtseying with gravity_) I shall at all times be delighted
at an introduction to any friend of my husband.
SIR W. (_aside_) I'm perfectly astonished!
MAR. (_aside_) I couldn't make believe like that.
PLATO. (_to SIR WILLIAM_) You see, my dear nephew! you perceive what
sweetness, what refined obedience. Ah! a thousand pities you did not
make such a selection; but, as we say in the classics--"_a fronte
præcipitium a tergo lupus,_"--I need say no more.
SIR W. (_aside_) Indeed you needn't! I am perfectly satisfied with my
unfortunate choice. What dissimulation! (_aloud_) Margaret, my dear,
will you kiss me?
MAR. Oh, won't I? There!
SIR W. And there! (_embracing her_) You don't want to kiss cousin Joe
now, I hope?
JOE. I wouldn't let her if she did.
MAR. Bless his heart! I think no more of kissing him than I should my
grandmother--but he must not forget himself.
SIR W. I forgive him; and, if agreeable, he may remain and dine with
us.
MAR. There, Joe, you may stay and dine with us if you will.
JOE. Well, then, I will; and I'll be revenged on his wittels, if I
can't on him--ha, ha!
SIR W. (_to MARGERY_) And you are happier in your homely attire?
MAR. Oh, much happier! if only because 'twas what I wore when you
first loved me.
SIR W. And you will be much happier still if I leave you to follow the
dictates of your own heart and feelings, without the direction of
masters or of books?
MAR. Oh, that I shall! yet I _will_ try my hardest to be as you would
wish me, if you but let me try in my own way; and I am sure, in time,
you will not be ashamed of me. Don't give me masters, don't give me
books, but when you want me to learn, teach me _yourself_--a loving
word and gentle patience, and all from _you_, will make us both happy,
and me I hope sincere. (_to Audience_) And, what will be better still,
let but the Rough Diamond be firmly set in _your_ golden opinion, and
she will be sufficiently polished to shine as long as you will permit
her.