CRICHTON (who is much shaken). My lady—a valet’s hand!
AGATHA. I had no idea you would feel it so deeply; why did you do it?
(CRICHTON is too respectful to reply.)
LADY MARY (regarding him). Crichton, I am curious. I insist upon an answer.
CRICHTON. My lady, I am the son of a butler and a lady’s-maid—perhaps the happiest of all combinations, and to me the most beautiful thing in the world is a haughty, aristocratic English house, with every one kept in his place. Though I were equal to your ladyship, where would be the pleasure to me? It would be counterbalanced by the pain of feeling that Thomas and John were equal to me.
CATHERINE. But father says if we were to return to nature—
CRICHTON. If we did, my lady, the first thing we should do would be to elect a head. Circumstances might alter cases; the same person might not be master; the same persons might not be servants. I can’t say as to that, nor should we have the deciding of it. Nature would decide for us.
LADY MARY. You seem to have thought it all out carefully, Crichton.
CRICHTON. Yes, my lady.
CATHERINE. And you have done this for us, Crichton, because you thought that—that father needed to be kept in his place?