ACT IV.
Scene: Library at Dr. Athelney’s.
Mrs. Van Brugh discovered seated, reading letters.
Mrs. V. B. “The Rev. Mr. Twemlow presents his compliments to Mrs. Van Brugh, and begs to return her annual subscription of fifty guineas to the Fund for providing Shelter for the Homeless Poor. He does not feel justified, under the circumstances, in accepting any aid from Mrs. Van Brugh on their behalf. With respect to the living to which Mrs. Van Brugh has recently presented Mr. Twemlow, he desires that she may understand that, if he consents to retain it, it is because he feels that it affords him a more extended sphere of spiritual usefulness than the curacy he has hitherto held.” (Opens another letter.) “We, the aged occupants of the Locroft Almshouses, are humbly pained and respectfully shocked at the disclosures that have recently been made with reference to Miss Brandreth’s relations with the late Captain Van Brugh. We trust that it is unnecessary for us to add that, if it were not that the Almshouses pass at once from Miss Brandreth’s hands into those of an upright and stainless Christian, whom it is an honor respectfully to know and a satisfaction humbly to profit by, we would not have consented to occupy them for another day; we would rather have worked for our living. Signed.” (Opens another letter.)
“Honored Madam,
“We shall feel greatly flattered and obliged if you will kindly afford us a sitting for your photograph at your earliest convenience.
“We are, Honored Madam,
“With much esteem,
“Most respectfully yours,
“Scumley & Ripp.”
When these people address me, I am degraded indeed! My name a word of reproach in every household in the country; my story a thing to be whispered and hinted at, but not to be openly discussed, by reason of its very shame. My years of atonement held to be mere evidences of skillfully sustained hypocrisy. Myself a confessed counterfeit, a base and worthless imposition, a living fraud on the immaculate beings with whom I dared to surround myself. And Ruth—Ruth, to whom my heart opened—even Ruth has left me. Poor blind, wayward woman, you are of the world, worldly; your idol is shattered, and there is the end. So let it be; it is meet that such as I should be alone!
Enter Eve, who has overheard the last few lines. She approaches her mother quietly, and places her arms round her neck.
Eve. Mamma, you have many kind friends left to you; Dr. Athelney, who has given you a home; Edward and myself.
Mrs. V. B. A daughter’s love comes of honor. Can that love live without the honor that gives it sustenance?
Eve. Mamma, I am very young, and I know little of the world and its ways. Will you forgive me if I speak foolishly? Dear mamma, I think my love for you began with my life. It was born with me, and came of no other cause than that you are my mother. As I brought it with me into the world, so I believe I shall take it with me out of the world. Do you understand me? I mean, that if I had no other reason for loving than that you are my mother, I should still love you, for I am your child.
Mrs. V. B. A child to whom I have given a life that is worse than death; a life that brings with it a curse that will be flung in your teeth by all who know you, and first of all, and above all, by him who was to have married you.
Eve. No, no; your bitter sorrow has made you unjust. Remember, he loves me. I do not know why he loves me, but whatever he saw in me to love is there still. I am not changed, and why should he change? I trust his heart as I trust my own.
Mrs. V. B. Eve, I know the world too well. That man will visit my fault upon you. He will renounce you now, my poor child, and the world will say he is right.
Eve. I will believe this when I hear it from his own lips.
Mrs. V. B. You will hear it to-day. It is part of the punishment of women who sin as I have sinned, that those who are dearest to them shall suffer with them. See how I am punished. I have placed a mark of shame on you whom I love beyond all on earth. I have inflicted a lasting injury on you whom I would have died to serve. I have cursed you whom I would have blessed. I have degraded you whom I would have exalted. Eve, my darling—out of my sin has come your love for me. I have no claim to that love. I have cheated you into honoring me; for that honor comes of my sin. I do not ask for love—I do not ask for honor. Humbled, unworthy, and spirit-broken, I plead to you for pardon—only for pardon. (Kneels to Eve.)
Eve. Pardon! My mother—my gentle-hearted mother. There is no thought in my mind but of the perfect woman of the past eighteen years. The luster of those years fills my world. I can see nothing else; I will see nothing else. As you have always been to me, so shall you always be—the type of gentle charity, tender helpfulness, brave, large-hearted womanly sympathy. When the bright light of those bygone years pales in my eyes, then let me suffer ten times the sorrow of to-day, for indeed I shall have deserved it. (She rises and they embrace.)
Enter Fitz Partington cautiously, l.
Mrs. V. B. Mr. Fitz Partington?
Fitz. Yes, but don’t be alarmed. If it is open to a person in my debased position to be regarded as a friend, regard me as one.
Mrs. V. B. Mr. Fitz Partington, I did you an injustice when I saw you last—I doubted you. Will you forgive me? (Holding out her hand.)
Fitz. (much affected, takes it). Ma’am, this is the most unprofessional moment of my career. No one ever apologized to me before. It is very unmanning. It is like having a tooth out. I hope no one will ever apologize to me again.
Eve. Have you brought us any news, Mr. Fitz Partington? I am sure you are here for some kind purpose.
Fitz. It is my fate to appear continually before you in the character of the Mysterious Warner of penny romance. Mrs. Van Brugh, once more, beware of Smailey. That abject man is going at you again.
Mrs. V. B. Has he not done with me yet? Can I be poorer than I am—or more unhappy—or more despised?
Fitz. He proposes to make you so, but he will be sold.
Eve. But with what motive does he do this?
Fitz. Revenge. To adapt the words of the poet to Smailey’s frame of mind, “Revenge is sweet, especially on women.”
Mrs. V. B. Revenge on me! Through him, whom I have never injured, I have lost my home, my fortune, and my good name, and he seeks revenge on me?
Fitz. Mrs. Van Brugh, if it is a source of pain to you to know that your friends have cut you, it may console you to know, that in their strict impartiality they have also cut him. He is hooted in the streets. His windows are a public cockshy. Nobody is at home to him, and though he is at home to everybody, it is to no purpose. The very tradesmen refuse to supply him. He is a desolate, and a hungry being, and nobody calls on him except the taxes.
Eve. I fear, Mr. Fitz Partington, that you may yourself have suffered from your association with this man.
Fitz. (to Eve). I? I believe you! Why I go about in fear of my life. Not only am I deprived of the necessaries of existence, but I have become the very focus of public execration. I couldn’t be more unpopular if I had come down to stand for the borough.
Eve. But, Mr. Fitz Partington, how in heaven’s name does he propose to injure my mother? What can he do to her, that he has not already done?
Fitz. He is advertising for the present Mrs. Van Brugh’s marriage certificate, and the late Mrs. Van Brugh’s burial certificate, with a view to a prosecution for bigamy.
Eve. Mamma, mamma, do you hear this? (Crosses to her.)
Mrs. V. B. Yes, I hear it. I knew that he had conceived this monstrous idea, but I have already assured him there is no ground for his suspicion. I have told him (after a pause, and with much shame) the truth.
Fitz. Yes, but he don’t believe you. Read that. (Hands newspaper to Eve, who gives it to Mrs. Van Brugh, pointing out advertisement.) Such is the snake-like and foxy character of that unparalleled old Pharisee, that he don’t believe you. Why, I am a professional skeptic at two guineas a day, and even I believe you.
Mrs. V. B. (who has been reading the advertisement). This is most shameful. This is monstrous beyond expression. I have borne my terrible punishment to this point patiently, and without undue murmur, but I will bear no more. Let that man know this. He has roused me at last, and I will meet him face to face. Let him know that, helpless and friendless as he believes me to be; crushed as I am under the weight of the fearful revelation he has extorted from me; shunned as I am, and despised even by those whom all despise but I, I am yet strong in this, that I have nothing more to lose. He has made me desperate, and let him beware. There are men in these days as hot in the defense of an insulted woman as in the days gone by, and he shall have a legion of them about his ears. I have been punished enough. I will be punished no further.
Eve. But who could have put this monstrous scheme into his head? What demon could have suggested it to him?
Fitz. I suggested it to him, but I ain’t a demon.
Eve and Mrs. V. B. You!
Fitz. I—I drew up the advertisement, put it in, and paid for it. It’s a dodge, I’ve put him on a wrong scent.
Mrs. V. B. How am I to understand this?
Fitz. That’s just it; you are not to understand—at present. You are to do me justice to believe that, when you do understand it, you will like it very much. I’ve put him on a wrong scent, and if I’m not very much mistaken, it will have the effect of taking him in his own toils. For the present it is enough to tell you that his advertisement has been answered, and that the person who answered it is to meet him here this afternoon.
Mrs. V. B. Here? Why does he come to me?
Fitz. Because he conceives, with some reason, that you are not likely to go to him. But don’t be alarmed, I shall accompany him, as per usual.[Exit Fitz Partington.
Mrs. V. B. (covering her face). Oh, the shame of it! Oh, the shame of it! To know that my terrible story is the common gossip of every plow-boy in the village; to feel that there is not a flighty servant-girl who does not gather her skirts about her as she passes me; to be certain when women cross the road it is to escape the contamination of my presence; and when they meet me face to face, it is that they may toss their head and tell each other that they knew it from the first! Oh, the shame of it! Oh, the shame of it!
Eve. But Mr. Smailey can do nothing. His wicked schemes must recoil upon himself. We will leave Locroft; we will leave this fearful place. Dr. Athelney sails in a fortnight, and he has made arrangements that we may accompany him. There, in a new world, with new friends and new duties, we shall forget all that is bitter in the past, and gather new stores of happiness from the future that is before us. (They embrace.)
Enter Dr. Athelney, L. D. Crosses to Eve.
Dr. A. Mrs. Van Brugh; Eve, my dear, prepare yourself for a surprise. This morning, Mrs. Van Brugh and I were discussing Frederick Smailey’s probable course of action. That very good or very bad young man is at this moment crossing the lawn with my son, Ted. He is coming with the view, no doubt, of setting all future discussion on that point at rest. Let us suspend judgment on that admirable or detestable lad until he has explained himself.
Eve. I knew he would come; I was sure of it. Mamma, dear, I told you he loved me, I told you he would come.
Enter Fred and Ted Athelney, arm-in-arm.
Fred. Eve!
Eve. (running to him). Fred, my dear Fred! (He embraces her.)
Ted. Here he is, I was sure of him; Eve and I were both sure of him. We knew him, Eve, didn’t we?
Fred. Edward came to me, Mrs. Van Brugh, and told me that—that you doubted me. (Much affected.)
Ted. Yes, I told him that. Don’t be angry with me, but when Fred Smailey’s honor is at stake, Ted Athelney doesn’t beat about the bush. I went straight to him and told him at once how the land lay. “Fred,” said I, “Eve knows you, and I know you, but the others don’t. Come over with me and show them what you really are. Show them that you are the brave, straight-hearted, thorough-going fellow I know you to be.” He didn’t give me time to say it twice.
Fred. Mrs. Van Brugh, will you take my hand? (Shakes her hand. Crosses to Dr. A., then shakes his hand.) Dr. Athelney, my very dear friend, this is very, very kind of you. You are too noble-hearted a man to confound the son with the father.
Dr. A. I hope and trust, sir, that I have done you an injustice. (Goes up.)
Fred. Mrs. Van Brugh, I know not how to express my opinion of my father’s behavior in terms that would be consistent with my duty as a son. I am most painfully situated. Permit me to content myself with offering you my deepest and most respectful sympathy.
Mrs. V. B. Mr. Smailey, you speak very kindly.
Ted. And he means kindly, mind that. I’ll stake my life he means kindly.
Fred. Thank you, Edward; thank you very heartily. My father, Mrs. Van Brugh, is, I have learnt, a very hard man; a good man, a truly good man, but a very hard one. He is unaccountably incensed against you; I have pleaded for you, but, alas, in vain. I have implored him to allow you, at least, to continue to occupy the cottage which is endeared to me by so many happy recollections, dear Eve, but in vain. (He takes Eve’s hand.) He—he answered me harshly for the first time in his life. (Much moved.)
Ted. My very dear fellow, heaven bless you for that.
Fred. Under these circumstances I said to myself, How can I lighten this intolerable burden to them? If not to Mrs. Van Brugh, at least to Eve. I lay awake all last night, thinking it over, and at last—at last I saw my way.
Ted. (to Dr. A.). Trust Fred Smailey to find the right thing to do.
Fred. I said to myself, Here is an amiable and blameless young lady placed, through no fault of her own, in the painful position of being engaged to a member of a family which has done her and her mother a fearful and irreparable injury. Association with such a family must be, to her, a source of inconceivable distress. To a sensitive and high-minded girl, such as I know my darling to be, an alliance with such a family must be simply insupportable. Deeply as I love her, and because I love her deeply, I will fight with the great love that is within me; I will act as becomes a man of honor; I will at once, and of my own free will, release her from this engagement. Eve, my dear Eve, you are free. (Eve faints in Mrs. Van Brugh’s arms.)
Mrs. V. B. My darling! My poor, poor darling!
Dr. A. (C.) Sir, I have been a clergyman of the Church of England for five-and-forty years, and, until to-day, I have never regretted the restrictions that my calling has imposed upon me. My hands, sir, are tied. Ted, my boy, these remarks do not apply to you.
Ted. (crosses to Fred Smailey). You infernal villain! You unutterably mean and sneaking villain! (Seizing him.)
Mrs. V. B. Edward! Edward!
Ted. Don’t stop me, or I shall kill him. Look there, you miserable hound (pointing to Eve), look there! Do you see the work that your infernal heart has done? Why, you miserable cur, she loved you! You trembling hypocrite, she loved you! Eve loved you—loved you! Look at her, man, and if your devil’s heart don’t beat the harder for the sight, it hasn’t a beat left in it!
Mrs. V. B. Dr. Athelney, pray, pray stop him.
Dr. A. Stop him? No, certainly not. I’m too fond of plain truth, and I hear it too seldom to stop it when I do hear it. Go on with your remarks, my boy, if you’ve any thing else to say.
Enter Smailey, followed by Fitz Partington, l.
Mr. S. When your son has quite finished shaking my son, perhaps you will kindly devote a little attention to me.
Fred. Edward, I sincerely hope you may live to apologize for this. (Offers to shake hands; Ted refuses.)
Dr. A. Mr. Smailey, I must tell you that your presence here is an act of audacity for which I was not prepared.
Mr. S. I fear that the surprise of my appearance here is but the first of a series of surprises in store for you.
Fitz. And I am convinced of it.
Dr. A. Leave my house, sir! (To Smailey.)
Mr. S. Nay, nay. I am here in the discharge of a high public duty, and I propose to remain. Come, Dr. Athelney, is this quite considerate? Is this quite as it should be? You are a minister of the Church, about to be invested with the very highest Colonial functions. In affording shelter to this unhappy person, have you not allowed your sympathy for her misfortunes to blind you to the fact that you are a clergyman?
Dr. A. Sir, I never had my duty as a clergyman so strongly before my eyes as when I placed my home at the disposal of this admirable lady. And, believe me, sir, I never felt so strongly disposed to forget my duty as a clergyman as I do at this moment. My hands are tied. Ted, my boy, these remarks do not apply to you.
Ted. Mr. Smailey, if you’ll come with me, I’ll see you out.
Fitz. (to Ted). See him out? Nonsense. Hear him out. He’s worth listening to, I can tell you.
Mr. S. Miss Brandreth (to Mrs. Van Brugh), when you denied having ever gone through the form of marriage with Captain Van Brugh, I considered it my duty, as a magistrate accustomed to deal with evidence, to disbelieve you. At the suggestion of my solicitor (aside, to Fitz) A lie, sir, for you are no solicitor; heaven forgive you! (Aloud.) At his suggestion I advertised for the burial certificate of the late Mrs. Van Brugh. That advertisement has been answered.
Fitz. That advertisement has been answered.
Mr. S. The person who answered it is at this moment waiting without.
Fitz. Waiting without.
Mr. S. And, with or without your permission, shall be introduced.
Fitz. Shall be introduced.
Mr. S. Mr. Fitz Partington shall introduce him.
Fitz. It ain’t a him, it’s a her. (Opens door, and discovers Ruth.)
Mrs. V. B. Ruth Tredgett!
Ruth. Ay, missis, ’tain’t no other.
Mr. S. What does this mean? Is this a hoax? (Indignantly, to Fitz Partington.)
Fitz. Is this a hoax? (Appealing to the others).
Mr. S. What does this woman want here?
Fitz. Woman, what do you want here?
Ruth. Want to help you agin her. (Indicating Mrs. Van Brugh.)
Mrs. V. B. Oh, Ruth, Ruth!
Mr. S. Do you mean this, Tredgett? (Crosses to Ruth.)
Ruth. Ay, I mean it, Smailey. It’s justice; and justice must be done. It was done agin me, years ago, and why not agin her now?
Mr. S. Dr. Athelney, this poor woman is an example to you. She has learned her mistress’s true character.
Ruth. Ay, I have. I have learned my missis’s true character.
Mrs. V. B. Ruth, how have I injured you, that even you turn against me? I loved you, Ruth!
Ruth. (with some emotion). You ha’n’t injured me, but I’m a ’spectable woman. You’ve made me ’spectable, and you must bide the consequence. (To Mr. Smailey)—You want the burial-ticket of Captain Van Brugh’s dead wife?
Mr. S. Yes; I have offered £50 for it.
Ruth. Gi’ us the money.
Mr. S. Why?
Ruth. I’ve got the paper.
Mr. S. How? How did you get it?
Ruth. No odds how. I’ve got it.
Mr. S. Give it to me, and you shall be paid.
Ruth. Nay, I must ha’ the brass first.
Mr. S. As soon as I’ve verified it you shall be paid.
Ruth. Maybe you’ll take some time over it. I must ha’ the brass.
Mr. S. (giving her a bank note). There is the money, but mind, if you are deceiving me, there is a constable outside.
Ruth. No fear. (Tears up the note.)
Mr. S. You fool, what have you done! Give me the paper.
Ruth. I’ll give it to him. (Indicating Fitz Partington, who has come between them.)
Fitz. (takes paper and reads). “St. Andrew’s Church, Port Philip, 17 July, 1858.”
Mr. S. ’58! Why, she died in ’69—I know she died in ’69. This is some forgery—we shall want the constable yet.
Fitz. This is some forgery. We shall want the constable yet. (Reads.) “This is to certify that on the above date I read the burial service over the remains of Martha Vane, of Port Philip.” (Smailey sinks into a chair.)
Dr. A. Martha Vane!
Mrs. V. B. That was her maiden name, the name under which she passed when she left her husband.
Mr. S. (much confused). This is not what I advertised for.
Fitz. No, but it’s what I advertised for.
Mr. S. You? What have you to do with this?
Fitz. I was engaged to trace this forgery to you at the time when you engaged me to undermine the character of this inestimable lady. In strict compliance with the terms of our contract, you have allowed me the free run of all your books, papers, and memoranda, and I am much obliged to you.
Fred. (who has heard this with the greatest concern). Father! Tell them that it’s a lie.
Fitz. It ain’t a lie. The case is only too clear. Tredgett and he were both in it, but she turns Queen’s evidence. Mr. Smailey, I desire to press hardly on no fellow-creature, but your own policeman is without, and he will be happy to walk off with you whenever you find it convenient to be arrested. (About to touch Smailey on shoulder.)
Fred. Father, tell them that it’s a lie. (To Fitz.) Keep your hands off him,—stand back—it’s a lie, I tell you. Stand back, or I shall do you a mischief. Father, whatever others believe of you, I believe you to be the best and truest man on earth. For my sake, for the sake of my belief, tell them that it’s a lie. For the love of God, tell them it’s a lie.
Mr. S. I have nothing to say, my boy; I have lied enough.
Fred. But they will take you away! Great heaven, think what will follow!
Mr. S. I care not what may follow. Whatever punishment may be in store for me, will be as nothing compared to the bitter shame of my degradation in the eyes of my poor boy, whom I have loved. He will desert me now! And what matters the rest—what matters the rest?
Fred. Father, I swear that where you are, there will I be to the end.
Mr. S. Heaven bless you for that.
Fred. Whatever you may have been—whatever I may have been—I am your son, and I love you; and I will be with you—to the end!
Mr. S. And the end is at hand.
Fitz. And the end is at hand.
[Exeunt Frederick Smailey, followed by Fitz Partington. Eve stretches out her arms towards Frederick as he goes, but he does not see her.
Ruth. (who, during the preceding dialogue, has been kneeling at Mrs. Van Brugh’s feet.). Mistress, my good and kind mistress, I had that paper in safe keeping miles away, I walked day and night to fetch it. It was hard to leave you in your sorrow, but none other could have got it. My mistress, my pure and perfect mistress, my angel from heaven, we will never part again.
Mrs. V. B. We will never part again, Ruth. Under the guidance of our loving friend, we will sail to the new land, where, humbly as becomes penitents, cheerfully as becomes those who have hope, earnestly as becomes those who speak out of the fullness of their experience, we will teach lessons of loving kindness, patience, faith, forbearance, hope, and charity.
Dr. A. “And the greatest of these is CHARITY.”
THE PRINCESS:
A Whimsical Allegory.
(Being a Respectful Perversion of Mr. Tennyson’s Poem.)