tWo copies BECEIVED. 
 
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 ADAM BEDE 
 
 A PLAY IN FIVE ACTS 
 Founded on GEORGE ELIOT'S famous novel 
 
 ROBERT LEWIS WEED 
 
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TK ^^^r 
 
 r^ ACT FIRST. 
 
 Scene First — Broxton, England— The Rectory. 
 Scene Second — Hayslope, England — The Hall 
 Farm. 
 
 ACT SECOND. 
 Scene First — (Evening of next day) — In the Wood. 
 Scene Second — {One month later) — The Chase 
 Lawn. 
 
 ACT THIRD. 
 Scene First — {Two days later) — The Hermitage. 
 Scene Second — {Next day) — The Hall Farm, 
 
 ACT FOURTH. 
 Scene First — Broxton {Eight months later) — The 
 
 Rectory. 
 Scene Second — Stoniton (Two weeks later) — 
 
 The Prison. 
 
 ACT FIFTH. 
 India, April 6, 1799 — {Six months later) — Grove of 
 
 Sultanpet. 
 
CAST OF CHARACTERS. 
 
 Adam Bede. 
 Squire Donnithorne. 
 Arthur Donnithorne. 
 Reverend Adolphus Irwine. 
 Martin Poyser. 
 Seth Bede. 
 Joshua Rann. 
 Meester Craig. 
 Meester Casson. 
 Surgeon Maltby. 
 Jack Cranage. 
 Fayther Taft. 
 Fayther Poyser. 
 Bartle Massey. 
 Carrol (a butler). 
 Mills (a butler). 
 Messenger. 
 Jailor. 
 Mrs. Poyser. 
 Hetty Sorrel. 
 Mrs. Irwine. 
 Lisbeth Bede. 
 ToTTY Poyser. 
 Molly (a maid). 
 And 
 Dinah Morris. 
 
 Tenants, Farm-hands, Villagers, Soldiers, Sepoys. 
 Period — A. D. 1798-99. 
 
Copyrighted, 1899, 
 
 by 
 
 Robert Lewis Weed. 
 
ADAM BEDE. 
 
 ACT FIRST— SCENE FIRST. 
 
 The Rectory, Morning. The Study. 
 
 Window r. Door l. c. leading into hall; hall- 
 stairs seen at back. Fireplace l. Walls lined. 
 WITH books. Large study table c. Chairs r. and 
 L. Armchair and hassock near fire l. Small 
 table r. near window, chairs r. and l. of table. 
 
 Discovered, Mrs. Irwine and Rev. Adolphus Ir- 
 wine seated at small table r. playing chess. 
 
 Mrs. Irwine — "There, Dauphin, tell me what that 
 is?" (deposits her queen and quietly folds her arms.) 
 
 Rev. a. Irwine — "Ah! you witch-mother, you sor- 
 ceress ! How is a Christian man to win a game of you ? 
 Before we began I should have sprinkled the board 
 with holy water. You've not won that game by fair 
 means, now, so don't pretend it!" 
 
 Mrs. Irwine — "Yes, yes, that's what the beaten 
 have always said of conquerors. Shall I give you an- 
 other chance?" 
 
8 ADAM BEDE, 
 
 Rev. Irwine — "No, mother, I shall leave you to 
 your conscience." (rises and looks out of window R. ) 
 "The weather is clearing, we must go and splash up 
 the mud a little, mustn't we, Juno?" (strokes a brown 
 setter affectionately. ) 
 
 Mrs. Irwine — "True, the sunshine is falling on 
 the board to show more clearly what a foolish move 
 you made with that pawn." 
 
 Rev. Irwine — "Mother, I'm ashamed of you ! You 
 are an ungenerous victor. But I must go upstairs and 
 — " (starts toivard door; is met by Carrol) 
 
 Enter Carrol (door l. c.) 
 
 Carroll — "If you please, sir, Joshua Rann wishes to 
 speak with you." 
 
 Mrs. Irwine — "Let him be shown in here. I always 
 like to hear what Mr. Rann has to say. His shoes 
 will be dirty, but see that he wipes them, Carrol." 
 
 (Exit Carrol l. c.) 
 
 Mrs. Irwine — "What do you suppose can be the 
 matter now, Dauphin ?" 
 
 Rev. Irwine (x's to fireplace) — "I haven't the 
 least idea, but something out of the ordinary you may 
 be sure. Joshua is not the man to pay me a visit 
 unless he has a grievance or some news to tell." 
 
 Enter Carrol l. c. followed by Joshua Rann. 
 
 Rev. Irwine — "Well, Joshua, good morning. Sit 
 down." 
 
 Joshua Rann — "Thank your reverence, I'll stand 
 if you please, as more becomin'." (pulling a lock of 
 his hair.) "T hope I see your reverence well, an' Mrs. 
 Irwine, well." 
 
 Rev. Irwine — "Yes, Joshua, thank you. You see 
 how blooming my mother looks. She sets us younger 
 
ADAM BEDE. 9 
 
 people an example in not giving way to age. {dogs 
 sniff at Rann's legs; he tries to be polite and not 
 notice them) Never mind the dogs, Joshua, give them 
 a friendly kick. Here, Pug, you rascal. Is anything the 
 matter in Havslope that vou've come over this morn- 
 ing?" 
 
 Joshua — "Why, sir, I had to come to Brox'on to 
 deliver some work and I thought it 'ud be but right to 
 call an' let you know the goin's on as there's been i' the 
 village, such as I hanna seen i' my time, an' I've lived 
 in it man an' boy sixty vear come Saint Thomas." 
 
 Rev. Irwine— "Well?" 
 
 Joshua — ^'I collected the Easter dues for Mr. Blink 
 afore your reverence come into the parish, an' been 
 at the ringin' o' ivery bell, an' the diggin' o' ivery 
 grave, an' sung i' the choir long afore Bartle Massey 
 come wi' his counter-singin' an' fine anthems as puts 
 iverybody out, but himself — one takin' it up after 
 another like sheep a-bleatin' i' the fold." 
 
 Rev. Irwine — "But, Joshua, you — " 
 
 Joshua — "I know what belongs to bein' a parish 
 dark, an' I know as I should be wantin i' respect to 
 your reverence, an' church, an' king, if I was t' allow 
 such goin's on wi'out speakin'." 
 
 Rev. Irwine — "Why, what in the world is the 
 matter, Joshua? Have the thieves been at the church 
 lead again?" 
 
 Joshua — "Thieves ! no sir — an' yet, as I may say, 
 it is thieves, an' a-thievin' the church too. It's the 
 Methodisses as is like to get th' upper hand i' the par- 
 ish, if your reverence, an' his honor Squire Donni- 
 thorne, doesna think well to say the word an' forbid it. 
 Not as I'm a-dictatin' to you, sir; I'm not forgettin' 
 myself so far as to be wise above my betters. Howiver, 
 whether I'm wise or no, what I've got to say, I say 
 — as sure as I'm a-standin' afore your reverence — the 
 young Methodist woman, Dinah Morris, as is at Mees- 
 ter Poyser's, ha' been a-preachin' an' a-prayin' on the 
 green." 
 
lO ADAM BEDE, 
 
 Rev. Irwine — "Preaching on the green ! What, that 
 pale pretty young woman I've seen at Poyser's? I 
 saw by her dress that she was a Methodist or a Quaker 
 but I didn't know she was a preacher." 
 
 Joshua — "It's a true word as I say, sir; an' she 
 preached there last night ; an' she's laid hold o' Chad's 
 Bess, so the gell's been i' fits welly iver sin'." 
 
 Rev. Irwine — "Well, Bessy Cranage is a hearty- 
 looking lass; I dare say she'll come around again,. 
 Joshua. Did anybody else go into fits?" (looks at 
 Mrs. Irwine amused) 
 
 Joshua — " No, sir — I canna say as they did. But 
 there's no knowin' what'll come if we're t' ha' such 
 preachin' as that a-goin on' ivery week; there'll be no 
 livin' i' the village." 
 
 Rev. Irwine — "Well, what's your advice, Joshua? 
 What do you think should be done?" 
 
 Joshua — "Your reverence, I'm not for takin' any 
 measures agin' the young woman. She's Meester Poy- 
 ser's own niece, and I donna wish to say what's any 
 ways disrespectful o' th' family at th' Hall Farm, as 
 I've measured for shoes little an' big, welly iver sin' 
 I've been a shoemaker. She's well enough if she'd 
 let preachin' alone; but Methodisses make folks be- 
 lieve as if they take a mug o' drink extra, an' make 
 theirselves a bit comfortable, they'll have to go to 
 hell for't, an' I make no doubt if th' young woman 
 keeps on preachin' she'll stir other folks up to thinkin' 
 th' same way. She ha' already got Will Maskery t' 
 her way o' thinkin'." 
 
 Rev. Irwine — "Is Maskery preaching too ?" 
 
 Joshua — "Nay, sir, he's no gift at stringin' th' 
 words together wi'out th' book, but he's got tongue 
 enough t' speak disrespectful aboot's neebors, an' what's 
 worse, he's usin' the Bible t' find nicknames for folks 
 as are his elders an' betters. I could bring them as 
 'ud swear as he called me 'a blind Pharisee,' an' you, 
 forgi'e me for sayin' such things over agin', 'a dumb^ 
 dog an' a idle Shepherd.' " 
 
ADAM BEDE. II 
 
 Rev. Irwine — "Let evil words die as soon as they 
 are spoken, Joshua. If you can bring me any proof 
 that Will Maskery annoys his neighbors or creates 
 disturbance, I shall think it my duty as a clergyman 
 and a magistrate, to interfere. But it wouldn't become 
 wise people like you and me to make a fuss about 
 trifles. We must live and let live, Joshua, in religion 
 as well as in other things. You go on doing your 
 duty as parish clerk and sexton as well as you've al- 
 ways done it, and making those capital thick boots 
 for your neighbors, and things won't go far wrong in 
 Hayslope, depend upon it." 
 
 Joshua — "Your reverence is good to say so; an' 
 I'm sensible as you not livin' i' th' parish, there's more 
 upo' my shoulders." 
 
 Rev. Irwine — "I shall trust to your good sense to 
 take no notice of what Will Maskery says, either of 
 you or of me." (sits R. of table c.) "When you've done 
 your day's work, you can go on taking your pot of 
 beer soberly, just as you have always done, and if 
 Will Maskery doesn't want to join you, but prefers to 
 go to a prayer-meeting on the green, why, let hirn; 
 that is no business of yours, so long as he doesn't hin- 
 der you from doing what you like." 
 
 Joshua — "Ah, sir! But when he comes to church, 
 an' we're a singin', he sits an' shakes his head, till I 
 should like to fetch him a rap across the jowl. — God 
 forgi'e me, an' Mrs. Irwine, an' your reverence, too, 
 for speakin' so afore you — but he said as our Christ- 
 mas singin' was no better nor th' cracklin' o' thorns 
 under a pot." 
 
 Rev. Irwine — "It must be that he has no ear for 
 music, Joshua. Never fear; he won't bring anyone 
 else in Hayslope to his opinion." 
 
 Joshua — "Yes, sir; but it turns a man's stomach t* 
 hear th' scripture misused i' that way. I know as 
 much o' th' words o' th' Bible as he does, an' could 
 say the Psalms right through i' my sleep, if you was 
 
12 ADAM BEDE. 
 
 to pinch me ; but I know better nor to take such words 
 t' say my own say wi'." 
 
 Rap at the door, voice heard calling out: 
 
 "Godson Arthur, may he come in?" 
 
 Mrs. Irwine — "Come in, come in, godson." 
 
 Enter Arthur Donnithorne l. c. dressed in riding 
 costume. 
 
 Mrs. Irwine — "Ah, Arthur, welcome." (Arthur 
 kisses Mrs. Irwine, shakes hands with Rev. Irwine.) 
 
 Rev. Irwine — "Glad to see you, Arthur, and where 
 did you drop from ?" 
 
 Arthur — "From the Chase." {sits on edge of table 
 c. ) "I couldn't stand being shut in the house a moment 
 longer ; as soon as the rain stopped I ordered my horse 
 for a canter. The roads are a bit heavy but, {turning 
 for a chair sees Joshua) — don't let me interrupt 
 Joshua's business — he has something to say." 
 
 Joshua — "Belike sir, you hanna heard as Thias 
 Bede's took to drinkin' bad again. If your reverence 
 sees well and good, I hope you'll go an' labor wi' Thias, 
 fur he's a dreadful sinner. He's a-slippin' away, fast." 
 
 Rev. Irwine — "To be sure, Joshua, to be sure. 
 I'll try and do what I can for him. And now good- 
 morning, Joshua; go into the kitchen and have some 
 ale." 
 
 Joshua — "Thank your reverence. Good mornin', 
 Mrs. Irwine, good mornin', Captain Donnithorne, good 
 mornin', your reverence." {exit Joshua l. c. ) 
 
 Rev. Irwine — "Poor old Thias. It's a pity that 
 Adam should have this cross added to the load already 
 on his shoulders. For the last five years he has been 
 propping up his father from ruin." 
 
 x'Vrthur — "Adam Bede is a trump!" {x's to fire) 
 ■"When I was a little fellow and Adam a strapping lad 
 
ADAM BEDE. 1 3. 
 
 of fifteen he taught me carpentering, and I used to 
 think if ever I was a rich Sultan, I would make Adam 
 my grand vizier." 
 
 Rev. Irwine — "And I believe he would stand the ex- 
 altation as well as any poor wiseman in an eastern 
 story." 
 
 Arthur — "If ever I live to be a large-acred man, in- 
 stead of a poor devil with a mortgaged allowance of 
 pocket money, FU have Adam for my right hand. He 
 shall manage my woods for me. He seems to have a 
 better notion of those things than any man I ever met. 
 I'm trying to persuade my grandfather to engage 
 Adam in place of that miserable old Satchell, who un- 
 derstands no more about timber than an old carp. But 
 come, your reverence, (x's to table c. ) Are you for 
 a ride with me? I want to call at the Hall Farm to 
 look at the whelps Poyser is keeping for me." 
 
 Mrs. Irwine — "You must stay and have a glass of 
 wine first, Arthur. Carrol will bring it in directly." 
 
 Rev. Irwine — "Yes, I want to go to the Hall Farm, 
 too, I have some curiosity to have another look at 
 Dinah Morris, the little Methodist who is staying 
 there. Joshua tells me she was preaching on the green 
 last night." 
 
 Arthur — "Oh, by Jove ! was that Dinah Morris? I 
 happened to be riding past and saw her. She looked 
 like Saint Catherine in a Quaker dress. It's a type of 
 face one rarely sees among our common people, (sits L. 
 of table c. ) 
 
 Mrs. Irwine — "If she is so attractive, I should like 
 to see the young woman, Dauphin. Make her come 
 here, on some pretext or other." * 
 
 Rev. Irwine — "I don't see how I can manage that, 
 mother ; it will hardly do for me, a church of England 
 clergyman, to patronize a Methodist preacher. Be- 
 sides, I doubt if she would consent to be patronized by 
 an 'idle shepherd.' " 
 
 Mrs. Irwine — "You should have come in a little 
 
14 ADAM BEDE. 
 
 sooner, Arthur, to hear Joshua's denunciation of his 
 neighbor. Will Maskery." 
 
 Rev. Irwine — "Yes, the old fellow wants me to ex- 
 communicate the wheelwright and then deliver him 
 over to the Civil arm — that is to say, to your grand- 
 father, — to be turned out of house and yard." 
 
 Mrs. Irwine — "It is really insolent of the man, 
 though, to call you an 'idle shepherd and a dumb dog.' 
 I should be inclined to check him a little. You're too 
 easy-tempered, Dauphin." 
 
 Rev. Irwine — "Why, mother, I'm not sure but he is 
 right about it. I am a lazy fellow." 
 
 Mrs. Irwine — "Tut, tut, Dauphin." 
 
 Rev. Irwine — "Oh, but there's truth in it, mother. 
 You can use your right arm quite well now, Arthur?" 
 
 Arthur — "Yes, pretty well; but the doctor insists 
 upon my keeping it up constantly for some time to 
 come. Though I hope I shall be able to get away to 
 the regiment in the beginning of August. It's a des- 
 perately dull business being shut up at the Chase when 
 one can neither hunt nor fish. However, we are to 
 astonish the echoes on the 30th, when I come of age. 
 Grandfather has given me carte blanche for once, and 
 I promise you the entertainment shall be worthy of 
 the occasion. I think I shall have a lofty throne built 
 for you, godmother, (x's to Mrs. Irwine and stands 
 by her chair) so that you may sit and look down 
 upon us like an Olympian goddess." 
 
 Mrs. Irwine — "And I mean to grace the occasion 
 and bring out my best brocade that I wore at your 
 christening twenty years ago. Ah, Arthur, (takes 
 his hand and holds it) I think I see your poor mother 
 flitting about in her white dress, which looked to me 
 that very day almost like a shroud ; and it was her 
 shroud only three months after ; and your little cap 
 and christening dress were buried with her. She had 
 set her heart on that, sweet soul. Arthur, thank God 
 you take after your mother's fam^ily. If you had been 
 
ADA.VX BEDE. 1 5 
 
 .,a puny, yellow baby, I wouldn't have stood godmother 
 ±o you." 
 
 Rev. Irwine — "But you might have been a little too 
 hasty, there, mother. Don't you remember how it 
 was with Juno's last pups ? One of them was the very 
 -image of its mother, but it has two or three of its 
 father's tricks notwithstanding. Nature is clever 
 enough to cheat even you, mother." 
 
 Mrs. Irwine — "Nonsense, child. Nature never 
 makes a ferret in the shape of a mastiff. You'll never 
 persuade me that I can't tell what men are by their 
 outsides. If I don't like a man's looks depend upon it 
 I shall never like him. I don't want to know people 
 that look ugly any more than I want to taste dishes 
 that look disagreeable. If at the first glance they make 
 me shudder, I say take them away. An ugly, fishy eye 
 makes me feel quite ill, it's like a bad smell." 
 
 Arthur — "Talking of eyes, reminds me that I have 
 .a book of poems I meant to bring you, godmother. 
 'The Ancient Mariner,' attracted me most, but I can 
 hardly make head or tail of it as a story, it's a strange, 
 striking thing. I'll send it over to you. By the way, 
 your reverence, {x's to table c.) in a parcel that 
 came down from London I found some pamphlets 
 about Antinomianism and Evangelicalism, whatever 
 they may be, would you like to have them ?" 
 
 Rev. Irwine — ^"I don't know that I'm very fond of 
 'isms,' but I may as well look at the pamphlets, they 
 tet one see what is going on. If you had stuck to 
 your books, you rascal, you would enjoy talking these 
 things over with me." 
 
 Mrs. Irwine — ^'Dauphin, Dauphin, you mustn't be 
 severe with Arthur." 
 
 Arthur — "Quite right, godmother, his reverence 
 forgets that scholarship doesn't run in my family. I 
 shall be satisfied if I remember enough Latin to adorn 
 my maiden speech in Parliament." 
 
 Rev. Irwine — ^"Arthur !" 
 
 Arthur — "Will your reverence kindly tell me what 
 
1 6 ADAM BEDE. 
 
 need a country gentleman has for knowledge of the 
 classics? To my thinking, he would much better have 
 a knowledge of fertilizers." 
 
 Mrs. Irwine — "Godson Arthur ! Reflect, what are 
 you saying?" 
 
 Arthur — "Don't be alarmed, godmother, I've only 
 come to the conchision that I should like to help the 
 farmers in a better management of their lands. Take 
 the Stonyshire side of the estate, — it's in a dismal con- 
 dition — now I should like to set improvements on 
 foot, and gallop about from place to place and over- 
 look them. Know all the laborers and see them touch- 
 ing their hats to me with a look of good will." 
 
 Rev. Irwine — "Bravo, Arthur! You may not care 
 for the classics, but you atone for that if you help raise 
 the food required by those who do appreciate them. 
 When you enter upon your career of model landlord, 
 may I be there to see it." (rising.) 
 
 Mrs. Irwine — "And when that day comes, mind, 
 you fall in love with the right person; for if you get 
 a wife who drains your purse, she'll make you nig- 
 gardly in spite of yourself." 
 
 Arthur — "Never fear, godmother, about my marry- 
 ing while my grandfather lives. But come, your rev- 
 erence, are you ready to start for the Hall Farm ?" 
 
 Rev. Irwine — "In one moment, I've a little matter 
 to attend to, and then I'll be ready to set out with you." 
 (exit Rev. Irwine l. c.) 
 
 Arthur — "Speaking of the Hall Farm. Have you 
 seen Poyser's niece, Hetty Sorrel, godmother?" (sits 
 r. of table c. ) 
 
 Mrs. Irwine — "No, I don't remember that I have, 
 is she pretty?" 
 
 Enter Carrol l. c. with wine, passes it to each and 
 exits. 
 
 Arthur — "Pretty! she's a perfect Hebe; if I were 
 an artist I would paint her." (strikes his boot with his 
 whip.) 
 
ADAM BEDE, 1 7 
 
 Mrs. Irwine — "Why, Arthur, you are enthusias- 
 tic. You are quite sure that she appeals to you only 
 in an artistic light ?" 
 Arthur — "What do you mean, godmother?" 
 Mrs. Irwine — "I mean you mustn't fill her little 
 head with the notion that she's attractive to fine gentle- 
 men, else you will spoil her for a poor man's wife." 
 
 Voice of Rev. Irwine heard outside calling. 
 
 Rev. Irwine — "I'm ready, Arthur, the horses are 
 
 at the door." 
 
 Arthur — "All right, your reverence. Good-bye, 
 
 godmother." (kisses her.) 
 Mrs. Irwine — "Come again soon, Arthur." 
 Arthur — "Yes, Godmother." (going to door.) 
 Mrs. Irwine — "Arthur! (calling him back) mind 
 
 what I say, don't feed the girl's vanity." 
 
 Arthur — "Never fear, godmother, never fear. 
 
 Good-bye." 
 
 End of scene first, act first. 
 
 ACT FIRST— SCENE SECOND. 
 
 The Hall Farm. Early Afternoon. The Kitchen, 
 The Kitchen. 
 
 Garden door upper r. outside door r. c. dairy 
 DOOR l. c. Door leading into front part of house 
 L. armchair by fire r. Cupboard at back between 
 DOORS r. c. and l. c. Table l. Chairs s. and l. Iron- 
 ing BOARD resting ON TWO CHAIRS R. BoWL OF STARCH 
 STANDING ON THE END OF IRONING BOARD L. TUB OF 
 WHEY SEEN STANDING IN DAIRY-WAY L. C. 
 
l8 ADAM BEDE. 
 
 Discovered, Mrs. Poyser ironing r. Totty seated 
 in a high chair at the end of ironing table with a min- 
 iattire iron. Molly szveeping L. 
 
 Totty — "Munny, my iron's twite told; pease put 
 it down to warm." 
 
 Mrs. Poyser — "Cold is it, my darling? Bless your 
 sweet face." {kisses the child.) "Never mind, 
 mother's done her ironing now. She's going to put 
 the ironing things away." 
 
 Totty — "Munny, I tould ike to doo into de barn to 
 Tommy." 
 
 Mrs. Poyser — "No, no, Totty 'ud get her feet wet. 
 Run into the dairy and see cousin Hetty make the 
 butter." 
 
 Totty — "I tould ike a bit o' pum-take." (Mrs. 
 Poyser turns aivay toward the fire. Totty upsets 
 the bowl of starch on the ironing board.) "Oh, Munny, 
 I'se spilted de starch." 
 
 Mrs. Poyser — "Did anybody iver see the like? 
 {running tozvards the table.) The child's allays i' 
 mischief if your back's turned a minute. What shall 
 I do to you, you naughty, naughty gell?" 
 
 Totty exits hastily into the dairy l. c. Mrs. Poyser 
 wipes up the starch. 
 
 Molly — "I've finished sweeping ma'am, shall I go 
 out to the barn and comb the wool for the whittaws 
 till milking time ?" 
 
 Mrs. Poyser — "Comb the wool for the whittaws ! 
 That's what you'd like to be doing is it? To think of 
 a gell o' your age a-wanting to go and sit wi' half 
 a dozen men !" 
 
 Molly — "I'm sure I donna want t' go wi' th' 
 whittaws, on'y we allays used to comb th' wool for'n at 
 Master Ottley's; an' so I just axed ye." 
 
 Mrs. Poyser — "Master Ottley's, indeed! It's fine 
 talking o' what you did at Mr. Ottley's — and you 
 
ADAM BEDE. I9 
 
 know no more o' what belongs to work when you 
 come here, than the mawkin i' the field. And what 
 are you standin' there for like a jack as is run down 
 instead o' gettin' your wheel out?" (Molly goes 
 tozvards door l. ) 
 
 Enter Dinah Morris l. Molly stands aside for 
 Dinah to enter, then exits door l. 
 
 Dinah — "Don't be so hard on the girl, aunt, — she 
 means to do right." {x's to c.) 
 
 Mrs. Poyser — "Means to do right! She's as poor a 
 two-fisted thing as ever I saw. My goodness, Dinah, 
 {x's to Dinah c. ) how you do look the image o' your 
 Aunt Judith. I could almost fancy it was thirty years 
 ago, and I was a little gell at home looking at Judith 
 as she sat at her work. Judith and me allays hung 
 together, though she had such queer ways, but your 
 mother and her never could agree. Your mother little 
 thought as she'd have a daughter just cut out after 
 the very pattern o' Judith, and leave her an orphan for 
 Judith to take care on and bring up wi' a spoon when 
 she was in the graveyard. I allays said that o' Judith, 
 as she'd bear a pound weight any day, to save anybody 
 else carrying a ounce." 
 
 Dinah — "She was a blessed woman." 
 
 Mrs. Poyser — "She was just the same from the 
 first o' my remembering her; it made no difference in 
 her as I could see, when she took to the Methodists. 
 Only she talked a bit different and wore a different 
 sort o' cap." 
 
 Dinah — "And she was very fond of you, too. Aunt 
 Rachel, {sits in chair l. of table l.) I've often heard 
 her talk of you in a loving way. {takes tip sheet from 
 table and begins sezving.) When she had that bad ill- 
 ness and I was only eleven years old, she used to say, 
 'If I'm taken away, Dinah, you'll find a friend in your 
 Aunt Rachel, for she has a kind heart,' and I'm sure 
 I've found it so." 
 
20 ADAM BEDE. 
 
 Mrs. Poyser — "I don't know how a body could be 
 anything but kmd to you, Dinah, (putting away iron- 
 ing board upper l. corner) You know I'd ha' been 
 glad to behave to you like a mother's sister if you'd 
 come and live wi' us. Then you might get married to 
 Seth Bede, and though he is a poor wool-gathering 
 Methodist, as is never like to have a penny before- 
 hand, I know your uncle 'ud help you with a pig, and 
 very like a cow, for he'd do as much for you as he'd 
 do for Hetty, though she's his own niece. And there's 
 linen in the house as I could well spare you. There's a 
 piece o' sheeting I could give you as that squinting 
 Kitty spun, — she was a rare girl to spin, for all she 
 squinted and the children couldn't abide her, — but 
 where's the use o' talkin', if you wonna be persuaded 
 to settle down i'stead o' wearin' yourself out wi' walk- 
 ing and preaching and givin' away every penny you 
 get. so as you've got notions i' your head about relig- 
 ion more nor what's i' the Catechism and the Prayer- 
 book." 
 
 Dinah — "But not more than what's in the Bible, 
 aunt." 
 
 Mrs. Poyser — "Yes, and the Bible, too, for that 
 matter. Else why shouldn't them as know best what's 
 in the Bible, — the parsons and the people as have no- 
 thing to do but learn it the same as you do ? But for 
 th' matter o' that, if everybody was to do like you, 
 the world must come to a standstill, for if we're to de- 
 spise th' things o' this world, as you say, I should like 
 to know where th' pick o' th' stock an' th' corn an' th' 
 best milk cheeses 'ud have to go? Everybody 'ud be 
 wantin' bread made o' tail-ends, an' everybody 'ud be 
 runnin' after everybody else to preach to 'em, i'stead 
 o' bringin' up their families an' layin' by against a bad 
 harvest." 
 
 Dinah — "Nay, dear aunt, you never heard me say 
 that all people are called to forsake their work and 
 their families. It's quite right the land should be 
 plowed and sowed, and the precious corn stored and 
 
ADAM BEDE. 21 
 
 the things of this Hfe cared for, and right that people 
 should rejoice in their families, and care for them. We 
 are all servants of God wherever our lot is cast, but He 
 gives us different kinds of work according as He fits 
 us for it. I can no more help spending my life in try- 
 ing to help others, than you can help running when 
 you hear little Totty crying at the other end of the 
 house." 
 
 Mrs. Poyser — "Ah, I know it 'ud be just th' same if 
 I was to talk to you for hours. You'd make me th' same 
 answer at th' end. I might as well talk to th" running 
 brook an' tell it to stan' still, {looking out the door 
 R. c. ) If there is'nt Captain Donnithorne an' Mr. Ir- 
 wine a-coming into th' yard. I'll lay my life they're 
 comin' to speak about your preachin' on the green ; 
 Dinah, it's you must answer 'em for I'm dumb ! I've 
 said enough a'ready about your bringing such dis- 
 grace upo' your uncle's family. I wouldn't ha" minded 
 if you'd been Poyser's own niece ; folks must put up 
 wi' their own kin as they put up wi' their own noses — 
 it's their own flesh an' blood. But to think of a niece 
 o" mine being cause o' my husband's being turned out 
 o' his farm and me brought him no fortin' but my sav- 
 in's — " 
 
 Dinah — "Nay, Aunt Rachel, you have no cause for 
 such fears. I've strong assurance that no evil will hap- 
 pen to you and my uncle and the children, from any- 
 thing I've done. I didn"t preach without direction." 
 
 Mrs. Poyser — "Direction ! I know what you mean 
 by direction. When there s a bigger maggot than usu- 
 al in your head you call it direction, and then nothing 
 can stir you. I canna ha' common patience wi' you." 
 {advances to the door r. c. courtesying.) 
 
 Enter Mr. Irwine and Captain Donnithorne, r. c. 
 
 Rev. Irwine — "Well, Mrs. Poyser, how are you af- 
 ter this stormy morning? Our feet are quite dry; we 
 shall not soil your beautiful floor." 
 
22 ADAM BEDE. 
 
 Mrs. Poyser — "O, sir, don't mention it. Will you 
 and the captain please to walk into the parlor ?" 
 
 Arthur — "No, indeed, thank you, Mrs. Poyser, I 
 delight in your kitchen, I think it's the most charming 
 room I know. I should like every farmer's wife to 
 come and look at it for a pattern." 
 
 Mrs. Poyser — "Oh, you're pleased to say so, sir; 
 pray, take a seat." 
 
 Arthur — "Is Poyser at home?" 
 
 Mrs. Poyser — "No, sir, he isn't, he's gone to Ros- 
 siter to see Mr. West, the factor, about the wool. But 
 there's father in the barn, sir, if he'd be of any use ?" 
 
 Arthur — "No, thank you; I'll just look at the 
 whelps and leave a message about them with your 
 shepherd. I must come another day and see your 
 husband. Do you know when he's likely to be at 
 home?" 
 
 Mrs. Poyser — "Why, sir, you can hardly miss him 
 except on market-day, — that's of a Friday, you know ; 
 for if he's anywhere on the farm, we can send for him 
 in a minute. If we'd got rid o' th' Scantlands we 
 should have no outlying fields ; an' I should be glad of 
 it, for if iver anything happens, he's sure to be gone 
 to the Scantlands. Things allays happens so con- 
 trary if they've a chance ; and it's an unnat'ral thing 
 to ha' one bit o' your farm in one county and all the 
 rest in another." 
 
 Arthur — "Yes, the Scantlands would go much bet- 
 ter with Choyce's farm, especially as he wants dairy 
 land and you've got plenty. But do you know, Mrs. 
 Poyser, I think your farm is the prettiest on the es- 
 tate, and if I were going to marry and settle down I 
 should be tempted to turn you out and run the Hall 
 Farm, myself." 
 
 Mrs. Poyser — "O. sir, you wouldn't like it at all. As 
 for farmin' it's puttin' money into your pocket wi' your 
 right hand and fetchin' it out wi' your left. As fur as 
 I can see, it's raisin' victuals for other folks, and just 
 gettin' a mouthful for yourself and your children as 
 
ADAM BEDE. 23 
 
 you go along. Not as you'd be like a poor man as 
 wants to get his bread ; for you could afford to lose 
 as much money as you liked wi' farmin', but it's poor 
 fun losing money; though I understand it's what 
 the great folks o' London play at moie than anything 
 else. But you know more about that than I do, sir. 
 As for farmin', sir, I canna think as you'd like it ; and 
 this house — the draughts in it are enough to cut you 
 through, and it's my opinion the floors upstairs are 
 very rotten." 
 
 Arthur — "Why, that's a terrible picture, Mrs. Poy- 
 ser, I think I should be doing you a favor to turn you 
 out of such a place. But there's no chance of that. 
 I'm not likely to settle down for the next twenty years, 
 till I'm a stout gentleman of forty ; and my grand- 
 father would never consent to part with such good ten- 
 ants as you and Poyser." 
 
 Mrs. Poyser — "Well, sir, if your grandfather thinks 
 so well of Mr. Poyser for a tenant I wish you'd put 
 in a word for him to allow us some new gates for the 
 Five Closes. My husband's been askin' an' askin' till 
 he's tired ; an' to think o' what he's' done for the farm 
 and never's had a penny allowed him, be the times bad 
 or good. But as I've said to my husband often an' 
 often, I'm sure if the captain had anything to do with 
 it, it wouldn't be so. Not as I wish to speak disre- 
 spectful o' them as have got th' power i' their hands, 
 but it's more than flesh and blood 'ull bear sometimes, 
 to be toiling an'strivin',up early an' down late, an' hard- 
 ly sleepin' a wink for thinkin' as the cheese may swell, 
 or the wheat may grow green again i' th' sheaf; an' 
 arter all, at th' end o' th' year to be no better off, than 
 if you'd been cookin' a feast an' had got th' smell o' it 
 for your pains." 
 
 Arthur — "I'm afraid I should only do harm instead 
 of good if I were to speak about the gates, Mrs. Poy- 
 ser, though I assure you there's no man on the estate 
 I would sooner say a word for than your husband. I 
 know his farm is in better order than any other within 
 
24 ADAM BEDE. 
 
 ten miles of us ; and as for the kitchen, I don't believe 
 there's one in the kingdom to beat it. {Hetty's laugh 
 heard in the dairy l. c.) By the bye, I've never seen 
 your dairy; I must see your dairy, Mrs. Poyser." 
 
 Mrs. Poyser — "Indeed, sir, it isn't fit for you to go 
 into, for Hetty's in the middle o' makin' the butter, for 
 the churning was thrown late an' I'm quite ashamed." 
 
 Arthur — "Oh, I've no doubt it's in capital order. 
 Take me in." (Arthur leads the zvay into the dairy 
 L. c. Mrs. Poyser follozvs expostulating. ) 
 
 (Mr. Irwine advances toivard Dinah l., ivho rises 
 from chair.) 
 
 Rev. Irwine — "You are only a visitor in this neigh- 
 borhood, I think?" {motions Dinah to resume her 
 seat. He sits opposite her at table l. ) 
 
 Dinah — "Yea, sir, I come from Snowfield, in Stony- 
 shire. I'd been ill and my aunt was very kind Vv'anting 
 me to have a rest from my work there, and invited me 
 to come and stay with her awhile." 
 
 Rev. Irwine — "Ah, I remember Snowfield very 
 well ; to my thinking it's a dreary, bleak place. I once 
 had occasion to go there ; at that time they were build- 
 ing a cotton mill ; but that's many years ago, now I 
 suppose the place is a good deal changed." 
 
 Dinah — "It is changed, sir, for the mill has brought 
 many people there to get a livelihood. I work in it 
 myself and have reason to be grateful, for thereby I 
 have enough and to spare. But it is a bleak place as 
 you say, sir, — very different from this country." 
 
 Rev. Irwine — "You have relatives living there, 
 probably, so that you are attached to the place as your 
 home?" 
 
 Dinah — "I had an aunt there once who brought 
 me up. She was taken away seven years ago, and I 
 have no other kindred that I know of, besides my 
 Aunt Poyser, who would have me come and live in this 
 countrv, — but I'm not free to leave Snowfield, for 
 
ADAM BEDE. 2^ 
 
 there I was first planted, and have grown deep into it 
 Hke the small grass on the hill-top." 
 
 Rev^ Irwine — "Ah, I dare say, you have many re- 
 ligious friends and companions there ; you are a Meth- 
 odist, a Wesleyan, I think ?" 
 
 Dinah — "Yea, my aunt at Snowfield belonged to 
 the society." 
 
 Rev. Irwine — "And have you been long in the habit 
 of preaching ? — for I understand you preached at Hay- 
 slope last night." 
 
 Dinah — "I first took to the work four years since." 
 
 Rev. Irwine — "Women's preaching is sanctioned 
 then, by your society?" 
 
 Dinah — "It doesn't forbid them, sir, when they've a 
 clear call to the work. Mrs. Fletcher, as you may have 
 heard about, was the first woman to preach in the soci- 
 ety, and Mr. Wesley approved of her undertaking the 
 work, for she had a great gift. There are many other 
 women now who are helpers in the work, tb.o'igh I 
 understand of late there's been voices raised against it 
 in the society. I cannot but think their counsel will 
 come to naught. It isn't for men to make channels 
 for God's spirit as they make channels for the water 
 courses, and say, flow here, but flow not there." 
 
 Rev. Irwine — "But tell m.e. if I may ask, how you 
 first came to think of preaching." 
 
 Dinah — "Indeed, sir, I didn't think of it at all. I 
 was led like a child, by a way that it knows not." 
 
 Rev. Irwine — "Tell me the circumstances, just how 
 it was, the very day you began to preach." 
 
 Dinah — "It was one Sunday, and I walked with 
 Brother Marlow, an aged preacher, to a village where 
 there are lead mines and where the people live like 
 sheep without a shepherd. It was summer time, and 
 as we walked over the hills, I had a wonderful sense 
 of the Divine Love. There are no trees there, you 
 know, sir, and the heavens were stretched out like a 
 tent and I felt the everlasting arms about me. It was 
 -a long walk, and when we got to the village Brother 
 
26 ADAM BEDE. 
 
 Marlow was seized with a dizziness that forced him to- 
 lie down and he couldn"t stand up to preach. So I 
 went to tell the people, thinking we'd go into one of 
 the houses and I would read and pray with them. But 
 as I passed the cottages and saw the aged, trembling 
 women and the hard looks of the men who seemed to 
 have their eyes no more filled with the sight of the 
 Sabbath morning than if they had been dumb oxen, I 
 felt a great movement in my soul and I trembled as 
 if I was shaken by a strong spirit. I went to where the 
 little flock of people was gathered together and stepped 
 on the low wall that was built against the green hill- 
 side, and I spoke the words that were given to me. 
 They all came round me, and many wept over their 
 sins and have since been joined to the Lord. This was 
 the beginning of my preaching, sir, and I've preached 
 ever since." (she stoops and gathers up her sezving.) 
 
 Rev. Irwine — "And what did you think of your 
 hearers last night? Did you find them quiet and at- 
 tentive ?" 
 
 Dinah — "Very quiet, sir. But I saw no signs of any 
 great work upon them." 
 
 Rev. Irwine — "Our farm laborers are not easily 
 roused. They take life slowly. But we have some in- 
 telligent workmen about here, the Bedes, for instance. 
 By the by, Seth Bede is a Methodist." 
 
 Dinah — "Yea, I know Seth well, and his brother 
 Adam, a little. Seth is a gracious young man, sincere 
 and without offense. And Adam is like the patriarch 
 Joseph, for his great skill and the kindness he shows 
 to his brother and parents." 
 
 Enter Arthur Donnithorne, Mrs. Poyser and 
 Hetty Sorrel l. c. 
 
 Rev. Irwine (giving his hand to Dinah) — "Good- 
 bye. I hear you are going away soon; but this will 
 not be the last visit you will pay your aunt, — so we 
 shall meet again, I hope." (x's to R.) 
 
ADAM BEDE. 27" 
 
 Arthur — "I hope you will be ready for a great holi- 
 day on the 30th, Mrs. Poyser. You know what is to 
 happen then, and I shall expect you to be one of the 
 guests who come earliest and stay latest. Will you 
 promise me your hand for two dances, Miss Hetty? 
 If I don't get your promise now, I know I shall hardly 
 have a chance, for all the smart young farmers will 
 take care to secure you." 
 
 Mrs. Poyser — "Indeed, sir, you're very kind to take 
 that notice of her. An' I'm sure wheniver you're 
 pleased to dance wi' her, she'll be proud an' thankful, 
 if she stood still all the rest o' th' evening." 
 
 Arthur — "Oh, no, no, that would be too cruel to all 
 the other young fellows who can dance. But you will 
 promise me two dances, won't you ?" 
 
 Hetty — (courtesying with a coquettish glance) 
 "Yes, thank you, sir." 
 
 Arthur — "And you must bring all your children, 
 you know, Mrs. Poyser ; your little Totty as well as the 
 boys. I want all the youngest children on the estate 
 to be there ; all those who will be fine young men and 
 women when I'm a bald old fellow." 
 
 Mrs. Poyser — "Oh, dear sir, that'll be a long time 
 first." 
 
 Arthur — "But where is Totty to-day? I want to see 
 her." 
 
 Mrs. Poyser— "Where is the little 'un, Hetty ?" 
 
 Hetty — "I don't know. She went into the brew 
 house to Molly, I think. 
 
 Mrs. Poyser exits hastily l. c. going l. Arthur 
 and Hetty talk aside. Rev. Irwine x's back and 
 speaks again zvith Dinah l. 
 
 Arthur — "And do you carry the butter to market 
 when you've made it?" 
 
 Hetty — "Oh, no, sir, not when it's so heavy; I'm 
 not strong enough. Alick takes it on horseback." 
 
 Arthur — "No, I'm sure your pretty arms were 
 
28 ADAM BEDE. 
 
 never meant for such heavy weights. But you go out 
 walking sometimes these pleasant evenings, don't you ? 
 Why don't you have a walk in the Chase grounds, now 
 they are so green and pleasant ? I hardly ever see you 
 anywhere except at church." 
 
 Hetty — "Aunt doesn't like me to go a-walking 
 alone. But I go through the Chase sometimes." 
 
 Arthur — "You go to see Mrs. Best the house- 
 keeper?" 
 
 Hetty — "No, it isn't Mrs. Best, it's Mrs. Pomfret, 
 the lady's-maid." 
 
 Arthur — "Ah, yes, yes, I knevv^ I'd seen you at the 
 Chase. She's teaching you something?" 
 
 Hetty — "Yes, sir, the lace mending as she learned 
 abroad, and the stocking mending — " 
 
 Arthitr — "Do you come every week to see Mrs. 
 Pomfret ?" 
 
 Hetty — "Yes, sir, every Thursday." 
 
 Arthur — "What time does Mrs. Pomfret expect 
 you ?" 
 
 Hetty — "Four o'clock sir, because that gives us 
 time before Miss Donnithorne's bell rings." 
 
 Arthur — "And do you always go up the beach ave- 
 nue?" 
 
 Hetty — "Most always, sir." 
 
 Arthur — "You'll be likely to next Thursday?" 
 
 Hetty — "Yes, sir." 
 
 Arthur — "To-morrow I'm going to Eagledale for 
 a day's fishing, but I shall be back by Thursday." 
 
 Enter Mrs. Poyser ivith Totty l. c. Mr. Irwine 
 x's to door R. c. and stands zvaiting for Arthur. 
 
 Mrs. Poyser— "Here she is, sir." {leads Totty to 
 Arthur. ) 
 
 Arthur — "Well, well, (lifts the child and sets her 
 on the arm of the arm chair r. holds on to her) as 
 I live. What a fine child she is. By the way what's 
 Tier other name? She wasn't christened Totty?" 
 
ADAM BEDE. 29- 
 
 Mrs. Poyser — "O, sir, we call her sadly out o' her 
 name. Charlotte's her Christian name. We began 
 by calling her Lotty, and now it's got to be Totty. To 
 be sure it's more like a name for a dog than a Christ- 
 ian child." 
 
 Arthur — "Oh, no, Totty's a capital name. Why 
 she looks like a Totty. Has she got a pocket on? 
 (Totty lifts her apron and shows empty pocket.) 
 
 Totty — "I dot notin' in it." 
 
 Arthur — "No? What a pity! such a pretty pocket. 
 Well I think I've got something in mine that will make 
 a pretty jingle in yours. Yes, I declare I've got five 
 little round silver things, and hear what a pretty noise 
 they make in Totty's pink pocket." (Totty smiles, 
 then jumps dozvn and goes to Hetty to have her 
 hear the jingle. ) 
 
 Mrs. Poyser — "Oh, for. shame, you naughty gell ! 
 Not to thank the captain for what he's given you. I'm 
 sure it's very kind of you, but she's spoiled shameful, 
 her father won't say her nay in anything, an' there's 
 no managing her. It's being the youngest, an' th' 
 only gell, sir." 
 
 Arthur — "Don't apologize, she's a nice little chick. 
 I wouldn't have her different. But I must be going, 
 the rector is waiting for me." 
 
 Mrs. Poyser {to Rev. Irwine) — "I've never asked 
 after Mrs. Irwine and the Misses Irwine. I hope 
 they're as well as usual, sir?"' 
 
 Rev. Irwine — "Yes, thank you, Mrs. Poyser, except 
 that Miss Annie has one of her bad headaches to-day. 
 Let me thank you for that nice cream cheese you sent 
 us. My mother enjoyed it especially." 
 
 Mrs. Poyser — "I'm very glad, indeed, sir. It's but 
 seldom I make one, but I remembered Mrs. Irwine was 
 fond of 'em. Please to give my duty to her and to 
 Miss Kate and to Miss x\nnie." (courtesies) 
 
 Rev. Irwine — "Thank you — good-bye." 
 
 Arthur — "Just ride on slowly, Irwine, I'll overtake 
 you. {exit Rev. Irwine r. c.) I want to speak to 
 
30 ADAM BEDE. 
 
 the shepherd about the whelps. Good-bye, Mrs. Poy- 
 ser, tell your husband I shall come and have a long 
 talk with him soon." (exit Arthur r. c.) 
 
 Exit Hetty and Totty into garden upper r. Mrs. 
 PoYSER courtesies and zvatches visitors from door. 
 
 Mrs. Poyser — "Mr. Irwine wasn't angry then? 
 What did he say to you, Dinah? Didn't he scold you 
 for preachin' ?" 
 
 Dinah — "No, he was very friendly. I was quite 
 drawn out to speak to him. His countenance is as 
 pleasant as the morning sunshine." 
 
 Mrs. Poyser — "Pleasant! And what else did y' ex- 
 pect to find him, but pleasant? It's summat like to 
 see such a man as that i' the desk of a Sunday. As I 
 say to Poyser, he's like a good meal o' victual — you're 
 the better for him wi'out thinkin' on't. (x's to Dinah 
 L.) But what did Mr. Irwine say to you about 
 preachin" on the green?" 
 
 Dinah — "He only said he'd heard of it; he didn't 
 seem to feel any displeasure about it. But, dear aunt, 
 don't think any more about that, (laying aside zvork) 
 He told me something that will cause you sorrow as 
 It does me. Thias Bede has taken to drink again. I'm 
 thinking the aged mother may be in need of comfort. 
 Perhaps I can be of use to her." (rises) 
 
 Mrs. Poyser — "Dear heart, I'm quite willing you 
 should go an' see th' old woman, for you're one 
 as is allays welcome in trouble, Methodist or no 
 Methodist,' but for th' matter o' that it's th' flesh an' 
 blood folks are made on as makes th' difference. Some 
 cheeses are made o' skimmed milk an' some o' new milk 
 an' it's no matter what you call 'em, you may tell 
 which is which by th' look an' th' smell. As for Thias 
 Bede, he'd be better out o' the way nor in it." 
 
 Dinah — "Nay, aunt, we must not judge." (exit 
 •door L. ) 
 
 Mrs. Poyser — (looking out of the door r. c.) "There 
 
ADAM BEDE. 3I 
 
 ■comes Poyser wi' gardener Craig. Poyser seems 
 mighty fond of Craig; but for my part I think he's 
 welly like a cock as thinks th' sun's rose o' purpose 
 t' hear him crow." 
 
 .Enter Mr. Poyser and Craig r. c. They stand in the 
 door a moment and look out. 
 
 Craig — ''Well, Meester Poyser, ye'U not be carry- 
 ing your hay to-morrow I'm thinkin' ; ye may rely upo' 
 my word as we'll ha' more downfall afore twenty-four 
 hours is past. Ye see that darkish-blue cloud there 
 upo' th' 'rizon — you know what I mean by th' 'rizon? 
 where th' land an' sky seems t' meet?" 
 
 Poyser — "Aye, aye, I see the cloud." 
 
 Craig — "Well, you mark my words, as that cloud 
 'ull spread o'er th' hull sky soon. It's a great thing to 
 ha' studied th' look o' th' clouds. Lord bless you ! th' 
 met'orological almanacs can learn me nothing, but 
 there's a plenty o' things I could let them up to if 
 they'd just come to me. (coining dozvn c.) An' how 
 are you, Mrs. Poyser?" 
 
 Mrs. Poyser — "As well as could be expected, Mr. 
 Craig. Poyser, you just missed Captain Donnithorne 
 an' Mr. Irwine, as called askin' for you." 
 
 Poyser — "Did the captain leave any word?" 
 
 Mrs. Poyser — "Yes, he said to tell you as he'd call 
 again soon t' ha' a long talk wi' you." 
 
 Craig — "Ah, there's a mon for you as is a mon ! 
 Wi' such as Captain Arthur i' the army, a mon doesna 
 need t' see fur to know as th' English 'ull beat the 
 French. I know a mon as his father had a particular 
 Icnowledge o' th' French, an' he says upo' good au- 
 thority, as it's a big Frenchmon as reaches five feet 
 high, for they live- upo' spoon-meat mostly. An wi' 
 nothin' i' their insides, they pinch theirselves in wi' 
 stays. Captain Donnithorne's arm's thicker nor a 
 Frenchmon's body I'll be bound." 
 
 Enter Dinah Morris l. with hat on. 
 
32 ADAM BEDE. 
 
 Dinah — "Aunt, I'll be back before dusk." 
 Exit Dinah r. c. Closes door after her. 
 
 Craig — "Mrs. Poyser, your niece is a well-favored 
 woman." {sits l. of table l. ) 
 
 Mrs. Poyser — "If Dinah had a bit o' color in her 
 cheeks, an' didn't stick that Methodist cap on her head, 
 folks 'ud think her as pretty as Hetty." 
 
 Poyser — "Nay, nay, thee dostna know th' pints of 
 a woman. Th' men 'ud niver run after Dinah as they 
 'ud after Hetty." {sits r. of table l.) 
 
 Mrs. Poyser — "What care I what th' men 'ud run 
 after? It's well seen what choice th' most of 'em know 
 how to make, by th' poor draggle-tails o' wives you 
 see, like bits o' gauze ribbin, good for nothing when 
 th' color's gone." 
 
 Poyser — "Well, well, thee canstna say but what I 
 knowed how to make a choice when I married thee? 
 and thee wast twice as buxom as Dinah, ten years 
 ago." 
 
 Mrs. Poyser — "I niver said as a woman had need to 
 be ugly t' make a good missus of a house. There's 
 Chowne's wife, ugly enough to turn th' milk an' save 
 the rennet but she'll niver save anything any other 
 way. She'd take a big cullender to strain her lard wi' 
 an' then wonder as th' scratchin's run through." 
 
 Knock at door r. c. Voice calls: 
 
 "Mrs. Poyser, within?" 
 Mrs. Poyser — {opens door) "Come in, Mr. Bede, 
 come in." 
 
 Enter Adam Bede. 
 
 "Poyser, here's Mr. Bede." 
 
 Poyser — "Why, to be sure — welcome, Adam, wel- 
 come. I'm glad ye're come, sit ye down."^ 
 Adam — "Good evening, Mr. Craig." 
 
ADAM BEDE. 33 
 
 Craig — "Good evenin', Adam." 
 
 Adam — "I came to see what your spinning wheel 
 wants doing to it." 
 
 Mrs. Poyser — "I've put it away in the right hand 
 parlor ; but let be, till I can fetch an' show it you. 
 Maybe you'd like a drink o' whey, first ? I know you're 
 fond o' whey, as most folks is." (goes to tub l. c.) 
 
 Adam — "Thank you, Mrs. Poyser, a drink o' whey's 
 allays a treat to me. I'd rather have it than beer, any 
 day." 
 
 Mrs. Poyser — "Aye, aye. (reaching a small zvhite 
 cup hanging above the tub and dipping it into the ivhey 
 tub) the smell o' bread's sweet t'everybody but the 
 baker. The Misses Irwine allays say, 'O, Mrs. Poyser, 
 I envy you your chickens, an' what a beautiful thing 
 a farm-house is, to be sure.' An' I say, 'Yis, a farm- 
 house is a fine thing, fur them as looks on an' don't 
 know th' liftin' an' th' standin' an' th' worretin' o' th' 
 inside, as belongs to it.' " 
 
 Adam — "Why, Mrs. Poyser, you wouldn't like to 
 live any place else but in a farm-house so well as you 
 manage it? There can be nothing to look at pleas- 
 anter nor a fine milch cow standing up to its knees in 
 pasture, and the new milk, and the fresh butter ready 
 for market and the calves and the poultry. Here's to 
 your health, and may you allays have strength to look 
 after your own dairy, and set a pattern t' all the farm- 
 er's wives in the county." 
 
 Mrs. Poyser — ''Have a little more, Mr. Bede?" 
 
 Adam — "No, thank you. But where's Totty?" 
 
 Mrs. Poyser — "She's outdoors wi' Hetty — I'd be 
 glad now if you'd go into the garden an' tell Hetty to 
 send Totty in. The child 'ull run in if she's told an' 
 I know Hetty's lettin' 'her eat too many currants. I'll 
 be much obliged to you, if you'd go an' send her in ; 
 an' there's th' York an' Lancaster roses beautiful in 
 th' garden now — you'll like to see 'em." 
 
 Adam — "Anything to oblige you, Mrs. Poyser. 
 
34 ADAM BEDE. 
 
 (going) I'll go into the garden and send the little 
 lass in." 
 
 Mrs. Poyser — "Aye, do; an' tell her, mother says 
 she's wantin' her this minute an' she mustna loiter." 
 (Adam exits upper r.) 
 
 Craig — "Adam Bede's a fine mon. An' he knows 
 a fine sight more o' th' nature o' things than those who 
 think theirselves his betters. He may be workin' 
 fur wages now, but he'll be a master mon some day as 
 sure as I sit i" this chair." 
 
 Poyser — "Adam's sure enough, there's no fear but 
 he'll yield well i' th' thrashin'. He's not one o' them as 
 is all straw an' no grain. Master Burge is i' th' right 
 on't, to want him to go partners in his business." 
 
 Craig — "An' marry his daughter, if it be true what 
 they say." 
 
 Mrs. Poyser — "Indeed ! Adam is too smart to look 
 at Mary Burge wi' her yellow face an' hair straight as 
 a hank o' cotton." 
 
 Craig — "Maybe, maybe — but the woman as does 
 marry Adam 'ull have a good take, be't Lady-day or 
 Michaelmas." 
 
 Mrs. Poyser — "Ah, it's all very well for gells to want 
 a ready-made rich man, but may happen he'll be a 
 ready-made fool; an' it's no use fillin' your pocket 
 full o' money if you've got a hole i' th' corner. I 
 allays said I'd niver marry a man as had got no brains ; 
 for where's the use o' a woman's havin' brains o' her 
 own if she's tacked to a geek as everybody's laughin' 
 at? She might as well dress herself fine to sit back- 
 'ard on a donkey." 
 
 Craig — "They say as Lisbeth, Adam's mother, ob- 
 jects to his gettin' married ; doesna like young women 
 about her." 
 
 Poyser — "Eh, it's a poor lookout when th' old 
 folks doesna like th' young 'uns." 
 
 Mrs. Poyser — "Aye, it's ill livin' in a hen-roost for 
 them as doesna like fleas. We've all had our turn at 
 bein' young, I reckon, be't good luck or ill." 
 
ADAM BEDE. 35 
 
 PoYSER — "Come, Rachel, be'nt you forgettin' to 
 offer Mr. Craig some o' your home brewed ale?" 
 
 Mrs. Poyser — "Aye, I was forgettin'. Molly! 
 Molly! (enter Molly l.) Go down an' draw some 
 ale." (enter Totty upper r. ) 
 
 ToTTY — "Did 'ou want me?" (exit Molly l. c. 
 going L.). 
 
 Mrs. Poyser — "Bless her sweet heart! (kisses her) 
 mother allays wants her little pet. If Totty sits down 
 like a good little gell an' keeps quiet (lifts her up on 
 to the bench) she may have a sip o' ale from mother's 
 mug." (exit Mrs. Poyser l. ) 
 
 Craig — "Have vou heard any particular news to- 
 day?" 
 
 Poyser — "No, not as I remember." 
 
 Craig — "Ah, they'll keep it close, they'll keep it 
 close, I daresay. But I found it out by chance ; an' it's 
 news that may concern Adam (pause) — Satchell's got 
 a paralytic stroke. I found it out from the lad they 
 sent to Treddleston for the doctor. He's a good way 
 beyond sixty, you know, an' it's much if he gets over 
 it.''' 
 
 Poyser — "Well, I daresay there'd be more rejoicin' 
 than sorrow i' th' parish at his bein' laid away ; for 
 he's been a selfish talebearin' fellow. Though it's th' 
 squire himself as is to blame — hirin' a stupid mon 
 like that to save th' expense o' a proper steward to 
 look arter the estate. When Satchell's laid on the 
 shelf maybe the squire'll put a better mon in his place, 
 but I donna see how it 'ud make any difference to 
 Adam." 
 
 Craig — "But I see it, I see it. Captain Arthur's 
 comin' o' age now an' it's to be expected he'll ha' a 
 little more say o' things. And I know, an' you know, 
 too, what 'ud be th' captain's wish aboot the woods, if 
 there was a fair opportunity fur makin' a change. He's 
 said in plenty o' people's hearin' that he'd make Adam 
 manager o' th' woods to-morrow if he'd the poo'er." 
 
36 ADAM BEDE. 
 
 Enter Mrs. Poyser l. carrying spinning wheel. She 
 places it r. 
 
 Mrs. Poyser — "'What a time that gell is draw- 
 in' th' ale. I think she sets th' jug under an' forgets 
 to turn the tap, as there's nothing you can't believe o' 
 them gells; they'll set th' empty kettle o' the fire an' 
 then come an hour arter to see if the water boils." 
 
 Poyser — "She's likely drawin' for the men, too. 
 Thee should'st ha' told her to bring our jug up first." 
 
 Mrs. Poyser — "Told her? yis, J might spend all the 
 wind i' my body an' take the bellows, too, if I was to 
 tell them gells everything as their own s'harpness 
 wonna tell 'em." {enter Molly l. c. carrying a large 
 jug, two small mugs and four drinking cans full of 
 beer) Molly, I niver knew your equals, th' times an' 
 times I've told you. (Molly catches foot in her apron 
 •and falls) There you go! It's what I told you'd 
 come, over an' over again. Th' crockery you've broke 
 sin' you've been in th' house 'ud make a parson swear. 
 God forgi' me for sayin' so ; anybody 'ud think you'd 
 got the St. Vitus's dance to see th' things you've 
 throwed down, (wiping up beer from floor) It's 
 a pity th' bits wasna stacked up for you to see, though 
 it's neither seein' nor hearin' as 'ull make much odds 
 to you. (Molly begins to cry) Ah, you'll do no 
 good wi' cryin' an' making more wet to wipe up. 
 (opening the cupboard door) An' here I must take 
 the brown an' white jug as hasna been used this three 
 years." 
 
 Enter Adam carelessly carrying a rose in his hand, 
 and Hetty ivearing one of Dinah's caps upper r. 
 Mrs. Poyser startled at Hetty's appearance, jug slips 
 from her Angers and breaks. 
 
 Mrs. Poyser — "Did iver anybody see the like?* It's 
 them nasty glazed handles — they slip o'er the finger 
 like a snail." 
 
ADAM BEDE. 37 
 
 PoYSER — "Why, thee'st let thy own whip fly i' thy 
 face." 
 
 Mrs. Poyser — "It's all very fine to look on an' grin 
 — Hetty, are you mad? whativer do you mean by 
 coming i' that way an' makin' one think as there's a 
 ghost a-walking i' th' house?" 
 
 PoYSER — "Why, Hetty, lass, are ye turned Meth- 
 odist? You mun pull your face a deal longer afore 
 you'll do for one. How come ye to put th' cap on?" 
 
 Hetty — "Adam said he liked Dinah's looks, an' 
 when I found one o' her caps bleachin' on the grass I 
 put it on. He says folks look better in ugly clothes." 
 
 Adam — "Nay, nay, I only said they seemed to suit 
 Dinah, (aside) But if I said you'd look pretty in 
 'em I should ha' said nothing but what was true." 
 
 Poyser — "Why, Rachel, thee thought'st Hetty war 
 a ghost, didstna? Thee look'dst as scared — " 
 
 Mrs. Poyser — "It little sinnifies how I looked! It 
 little becomes anybody i' this house to make fun o' 
 my sister's child, they'd be better if they could make 
 theirselves like 'her i' more ways nor puttin' on her 
 cap." (exit Mrs. Poyser with Totty into dairy l. c.) 
 
 Poyser — "You'd better take the cap off, my lass, it 
 hurts your aunt to see it." 
 
 Craig — "Well, Poyser, I mun be gettin' on. 
 (rising) 
 
 Poyser — "Donna be in a hurry, Craig." 
 
 Craig — "Thank ye, but I mun go on to see Meester 
 Massey he wasna at church last Sunday, an' I ha' na 
 seen him for a week past. — Good evenin', Hetty, good 
 evenin', Adam." 
 
 Adam — "Good-evening, Mr. Craig." (exit Craig 
 r. c.) 
 
 Poyser looks at Adam and Hetty and exits into 
 dairy l. c. Hetty sits r. of table l. Adam lays down 
 the rose carefully and examines the spimmtg wheel r. 
 
 Adam — "Ah, here's a nice bit o' turning wanted. 
 
38 ADAM BEDE. 
 
 It's a pretty wheel. I must have it up at the turn- 
 ing shop i' th' village and do the work there, (looking 
 for a moment at Hetty) I've been thinking it over 
 in my mind to make it a bit more convenient for doing 
 nice jobs o' cabinet-making at home. I look for me 
 and Seth to get a little business for ourselves i' that 
 way. I've allays done a deal o' such little things in 
 odd hours and they're profitable, for there's more work- 
 manship, nor material in 'em." 
 
 Hetty — "Yes, you might be gettin' rich some day. 
 (pause) Have you ever been to Eagledale?" 
 
 Adam — "Yes, ten years ago, when I was a lad, I 
 went with father to see about some work there. It's 
 a wonderful sight — rocks and caves, such as you never 
 saw in your life. I never had a right notion o' rocks 
 till I went there." 
 
 Hetty — "How long did it take to go?" 
 
 Adam — "The best part o' two days, walking; but 
 it's nothing of a day's journey for anybody as has got 
 a first-rate nag. Captain Arthur goes there a-iishin' 
 sometimes, (pause) 1 wish th' captain'd got th' es- 
 tate in his hands ; that 'ud be the right thing for him, 
 for it 'ud give him plenty to do, and he'd do it well, 
 too, for all he's so young; he's got better notions o' 
 things than many a man twice his age. (pause) He 
 spoke very handsome to me th' other day about lend- 
 ing me money to set up i' business ; and if things 
 come round that way I'd rather be beholden to him 
 nor to any man i' the world, (leaving the zvheel) If 
 your avmt 'ull send the wheel to Mr. Burge's shop 
 i' the morning, I'll get it done for her by Saturday." 
 
 Hetty — "Thank you, Adam, I'll tell her." (rises) 
 
 Adam (taking up the rose) — "How pretty the roses 
 are now. See, I stole the prettiest, but I didna mean 
 to keep it myself. I think these as are pink and have 
 got a finer sort o' green leaves are prettier than the 
 striped 'uns. don't you ?" 
 
 Hetty — "Yes, maybe." 
 
 Adam — ^Tt smells sweet, the striped 'uns have no 
 
ADAM BEDE. 39 
 
 smell. Stick it in your frock and then you can put 
 it in water after. It 'ud be a pity to let it fade. (Hetty 
 takes the rose and coquettishly puts it in her hair above 
 the left ear) Ah, that's like the ladies in the pictures 
 at the Chase; only they've mostly got flowers or 
 feathers, or gold things i' their hair, but somehow I 
 don't like to see 'em ; they allays put me i' mind o' the 
 painted women outside the shows at Treddles'on fair. 
 What can a woman have to set her ofT better than her 
 own hair, when it curls so like yours? K a woman's 
 young and pretty, I think you can see her good looks 
 all the better for her being plain-dressed. It seems 
 to me as a woman's face doesna want flowers. I'm sure 
 yours doesna. It's like a flower itself." 
 
 Hetty — "Do you think so?" (laughs as though not 
 quite understanding. ) 
 
 Adam — "Yes, I like to see you just as you are now; 
 when a man's singing a good tune, he doesna want t' 
 hear bells tinkling and interfering wi' the sound." 
 
 Hetty — "O, Adam, what queer things ye do say." 
 
 Adam — "But it's getting near supper time, it'll be 
 pretty near six before I'm at home. And mother may 
 happen to be waiting for me, she's more fidgety nor 
 usual now. Good-night, Hetty." 
 
 Hetty — "Good-night, Adam. You'll come again 
 soon ?" 
 
 Adam — "Yes, good-night." (exit Adam r. c.) 
 
 Enter Mr. Poyser from dairy l. c. 
 
 Poyser — "Has Adam gone ?" 
 
 Hetty— "Yes." 
 
 Poyser — (pause, gets his tobacco and pipe from 
 shelf above fire-place) If you can catch Adam for 
 a husband, Hetty, you'll ride i' your own spring cart 
 some day, I'll be your warrant. Ye'll not find many 
 men o' six and twentv as '11 do to put i' the shafts wi' 
 him." 
 
40 ADAM BEDE. 
 
 Hetty moves azvay pettishly toward r. c. and tosses 
 her head. Poyser thoughtfully lights his pipe. 
 
 Curtain. 
 
ADAM BEDE. 4 1 
 
 ACT SECOND. SCENE FIRST. 
 
 In THE WOOD. Late Afternoon. Near the Chase. 
 
 Stump or log at r. of stage. 
 
 Enter Arthur Donnithorne l. zvith book under 
 his arm. 
 
 Arthur — "I wonder if she'll go home this way? 
 I'd like to see her if she does. Pooh ! What an idiot I 
 am. {sits r.) What does it concern me whether Hetty 
 Sorrel walks this way or not? (pause) But whv 
 shouldn't I treat the little thing kindly ? —She's a 
 beauty and no mistake. Perhaps, I would better take 
 no more notice of her; it may put notions into her 
 head, as Mrs. Irwine thinks. By Jove ! there she comes 
 now. Tripping along in her bright colors she looks 
 like a bird among the boughs." 
 
 Enter Hetty Sorrel r. zvith a o:i:;ket on her arm. 
 Courtesies to Arthur. 
 
 Arthur — "You are quite right to choose this way 
 of going and coming from the Chase. It is so much 
 prettier as well as shorter than by either of the lodges." 
 
 Hetty — "Yes, sir." 
 
 Arthur — "Did you learn anything from Mrs. Pom- 
 fret this afternoon ?" 
 
 Hetty — "Yes, sir : she says as I'm doing fine, and in 
 a few more lessons I'll be able to mend lace as well 
 as she can." 
 
42 ADAM BEDE. 
 
 Arthur — "Really? You must be an apt pupiL 
 Though for that matter no one could look at those 
 bright eyes of yours and think to the contrary." 
 
 Hetty — "She's teaching me cutting out, too." 
 
 Arthur — "What, are you going to be a lady's 
 maid?" 
 
 Hetty — "I should like to be one." 
 
 Arthur — "I suppose your aunt will be on the look- 
 out and expecting you home about this time, won't 
 she?" 
 
 Hetty — "Yes, sir." 
 
 Arthur — "Ah, then I must not keep you now, else 
 I should like to show you The Hermitage. Did you 
 ever see it?" 
 
 Hetty — "No, sir." 
 
 Arthur — "It's my den, where I go when I want 
 to get away from everybody, to read and write and 
 study. This is the walk where we would turn up to 
 it. But we must not go now. Some other time I'll 
 show it to you if you'd like to see it?" 
 
 Hetty — "Yes, please, sir." 
 
 Arthur — "Do you always come back this way in 
 the evening, or are you afraid to take so lonely a road ?" 
 
 Hetty — "Oh, no, sir, it's never late; I allays set 
 out by eight o'clock and it's so light now in the even- 
 ing. My aunt 'ud be very cross wi' me if I didn't get 
 home before nine." 
 
 Arthur — "Perhaps, Craig, the gardener, comes to 
 take care of you?" 
 
 Hetty — "I'm sure he doesna; I'm sure he never did; 
 I wouldn't let him. I don't like him." (tears of vex- 
 ation come to her eyes.) 
 
 Arthur — "Why, Hetty, what makes you cry? I 
 didn't mean to vex you. I wouldn't vex you for the 
 world, you little blossom — (playfully pinches her arm) 
 come, don't cry. Look at me, else I'll think you won't 
 forgive me. (Hetty drops her basket) Has some- 
 thing frightened you, Hetty ? Have you seen anything 
 in the wood? Don't be frightened, — I'll take care of 
 
ADAM BEDE. 43 
 
 you, now. Come, be cheerful again. Smile at me and 
 tell me what is the matter. Come, tell me." 
 
 Hetty (softly) — "I thought you wouldn't come." 
 
 Arthur — "You little frightened bird! (puts his arm 
 around her and kisses her.) Little tearful rose! Silly 
 pet ! You won't cry again now I'm with you, will you ?" 
 
 Hetty— "No." 
 . Arthur — "I wish I could always hold you in my 
 arms tight, just like this. Would you like me to, 
 Hettv?" 
 
 Hetty (softly) — "Yes." 
 
 Arthur — "You would, eh? (kisses her again) You 
 sweet wild rose ! You're coming to my birthday feast 
 on the 30th, aren't you ?" 
 
 Hetty— "Yes." 
 
 Arthur — "And you'll give me the dances I've asked 
 for?" 
 
 Hetty — "Yes." 
 
 Arthur — "If you don't, I shall be the most miserable 
 man in the world, (siarfs) What's that? There's 
 some one coming ! You go back towards the Chase as 
 if you'd forgotten something. I'll go this way. Till 
 to-morrow." (exits hastily l.) 
 
 Enter Dinah Morris and Seth Bede r. Hetty 
 starts back toivard the Chase r. 
 
 Dinah — "Why, Hetty, where is thee going?" 
 
 Hetty — "Back to the Chase." 
 
 Dinah — "Hurry, child, and I will wait for thee here. 
 It is growing late." (exit Hetty r.) "Hetty must 
 have forgotten something. She's been at the Chase 
 this afternoon. Mrs. Pomfret, the lady's-maid, has a 
 kind heart and is teaching the child to make lace."^ 
 (sits R. Seth x's to l. ) 
 
 Seth — "You've quite made up your mind to go 
 back to Snowfield, Dinah?" 
 
 Dinah — "Yea. I'm called there. It was borne in 
 upon my mind on Sunday as Sister Allen, who's in a 
 decline, is in need of me." 
 
44 ADAM BEDE. 
 
 Seth — "Hast heard from her, Dinah?" 
 
 Dinah — "By a vision, yea, I saw her as plain as 
 we see that bit of white cloud yonder. She was lifting 
 up her poor, thin hand and beckoning to me. And 
 this morning when I opened the Bible for direction the 
 first words my eyes fell on were, 'And after he had 
 seen the vision, immediately we endeavored to go 
 into Macedonia.' If it wasn't for that clear showing 
 of the Lord's will I should be loath to go, for my heart 
 yearns over my aunt and her little ones and Hetty 
 Sorrel. I've been much drawn out in prayer for Hetty 
 of late, and I look on it as a token that there may be 
 mercy in store for her." 
 
 Seth — "God grant it. For I doubt Adam is so set 
 on her he'll never turn to anybody else;, and if he was 
 to marry her, I canna think as she'd make him happy. 
 It's a deep mystery — the way a man's heart turns to 
 one woman out of all the rest he's seen i' the world, 
 and makes it easier for him to work seven year for 
 her, like Jacob did for Rachel, sooner than have any 
 other woman for the asking. After what you told me 
 o' your mind last Saturday, mayhappen you'll think 
 me over bold to speak to you about it again, but I've 
 been thinking it over by night and by day, and it seems 
 to me diere's more texts for your marryin' than ever 
 you could find against it. For St. Paul says as plain as 
 can be, 'I will that the .younger women marry,' 
 (quickly) an' two are better than one, Dinah, an' that 
 holds good wi' marriage as well as wi' other things. 
 We should be o' one heart and o' one mind, an' I'd 
 never be the husband to make a claim on you as 'ud in- 
 terfere wi' your work. I'd make a shift and fend in- 
 door and out, to give you more liberty — more than you 
 have now, and I'm strong enough to work for us both." 
 
 Dinah — (pause) "Seth Bede, I thank thee for thy 
 love toward me, and if I could think of any man as 
 more than a Chistian brother, it would be you. When 
 I first saw as your love was given to me, I thought it 
 might be a leading of Providence for me to change my 
 
ADAM BEDE. 45 
 
 way of life, and that we should be fellow helpers, but 
 whenever I tried to fix my heart on our living together, 
 other thoughts always came in — thoughts of the sick 
 and dying. And so I see that I have been called to 
 minister to others, and not to have joys and sorrows 
 of my own." 
 
 Seth — "Dinah, perhaps, I oughtn't to feel for any 
 creature as I feel for you, for I can't help saying of 
 you what the hymn says, 'She is my soul's bright 
 morning star.' That may be V\-rong, and I'm to be 
 taught better, (pause) You wouldn't be displeased wi' 
 me if things turned out so as I could leave this country 
 an' go to live at Snowfield, an' be near you?" 
 
 Dinah — "No, but I counsel you not to leave your 
 own country and kindred lightly. We mustn't be in 
 a hurry to choose our own lot." 
 
 Seth — "There is no knowin' but what you may see 
 things different after awhile. There may be a new 
 leading?" 
 
 Dinah — "Let us leave that, Seth. It is good to live 
 only a moment at a time. It isn't for you and me to 
 lay plans; we've nothing to do but to obey and to 
 trust. Good-bye." 
 
 Seth — "Good-bj-e. (going l.) You'd let me write 
 you a letter, Dinah, if there was anything I wanted to 
 tell you ?" 
 
 Dinah — "Yea. and you'll be continually in my 
 prayers. Farewell." 
 
 Seth — "Farewell, Dinah." (exit Seth l.) 
 
 Enter Hetty r. 
 
 Dinah — "I'm glad you've come, Hetty, it's time 
 we were at the Hall Farm. (Dinah takes Hetty's 
 hand and drazvs it under her ozvn arm) Dear child, 
 how happy you look. I shall think of you often when 
 I'm at Snowfield, and see your face before me as it 
 is now. It's a strange thing — sometimes when I'm 
 alone in my room or walking over the hills, the people 
 
46 ADAM BEDE. 
 
 I've known are brought before me, and I hear their 
 voices and see their looks. And I am sure that you 
 will come before me, for I feel strongly drawn to you. 
 If you are ever in need of a friend, Hetty, come to 
 Dinah Morris at Snowfield." 
 
 Hetty — "Why should you think of trouble comin' 
 to me." 
 
 Dinah — "Because, dear, trouble comes to us all in 
 this life, and then we need friends." 
 
 Hetty — "Oh, yes — Have you been over to the 
 Bede's again to-day?" 
 
 Dinah — "Yea. It has been very precious to me 
 seeing two such good sons as Adam and Seth Bede. 
 Mrs. Bede has been telling me what Adam has done 
 for these many years to help his father and his brother. 
 It's wonderful what a spirit of wisdom he has, and 
 how he's ready to use it in behalf of them that are 
 feeble. And I'm sure he has a loving spirit, too. Don't 
 you think so, Hetty?" 
 
 Hetty — "Yes I suppose he has." 
 
 Dinah — "But come, Hetty, dear, we must not give 
 aunt cause for worriment." 
 
 Exit Dinah and Hetty l. 
 
 End of Scene First, Act Second. 
 
 ACT SECOND. SCENE SECOND. 
 
 The Birthday Feast. Afternoon. 
 
 The Chase Lawn. 
 
 Before and at rise of curtain bells heard ring- 
 ing. Bunting and flags hung about. 
 
adam bede. 47 
 
 Villagers and tenants moving about the stage. 
 
 The Chase Lawn. 
 Raised dais erected r. on which rests elaborate 
 
 ■GOLD CHAIR. TaBLE L. SLIGHTLY RAISED FROM FLOOR. 
 
 Table down r. Table c. at back. All the tables 
 decorated and bright with cut glass and silver 
 
 and FLOWERS. SmALL TABLE NEAR DAIS ON WHICH 
 ARE PILED NEATLY WRAPPED PACKAGES. 
 
 Enter Mr. and Mrs. Poyser, old Martin Poyser, 
 ToTTY and Hetty l. 
 
 Mrs. Poyser — "Why, the Chase is like a fair. I 
 shouldna ha' thought there was so many people i' th' 
 two parishes. Massey on us, how hot it is ! Come 
 here, Totty, keep i' the shade else your little face 'ull 
 be burned to a scratchin'. They might ha' cooked the 
 dinner i' that open space an' saved the fires. Father, 
 there's Mr. Taft, dost remember him?" 
 
 Old Poyser — "Aye, aye, I remember Jacob Taft 
 walkin' fifty mile arter the Scotch reybels, when they 
 turned back from Stoniton. {goes tozvard Taft. 
 shouts in his ear) Well, Meester Taft, you're hearty 
 yit. You can enjoy yoursen to-day, for all your ninety 
 an' better." 
 
 Taft — "Your sarvent, Meester Poyser, your sarv- 
 ent." (they move aside) 
 
 Enter Adam, Seth and Lisbeth Bede l. 
 
 Mills (to Adam) — "Beg pardon, sir, Captain Don- 
 nithorne's compliments and it is his particular wish 
 that you dine with the large tenants to-day." (Mills 
 moves aside.) 
 
 Adam (to Seth) — "Seth, lad, the captain has sent 
 word as I'm to sit with the large tenants, he wishes it 
 particular, the butler says; I suppose it 'ud be be- 
 
48 ADAM BEDE. 
 
 havin' ill for me not to do it. I don't like sitting above 
 thee and mother, though, as if I was better than my 
 own flesh and blood. Thee't not take it unkind, I 
 hope?" 
 
 Seth — "Nay, nay, Adam, thy honor's our honor; 
 and if thee gets respect thee'st won it by thy own de- 
 serts. It's because o' thy being appointed over the 
 woods, thee't above a common workman now." 
 
 Adam — "Aye, but nobody knows a word about it 
 yet. People 'ull be wondering to see me there, and 
 they'll like enough be guessin' the reason, and askin' 
 questions." 
 
 Seth — "Well, thee canst say, thee wast ordered to 
 come wi'out being told the reason. That's the truth. 
 Mother 'ull be fine and joyful about it, I'll go and tell 
 her." (goes to Lisbeth) 
 
 Mills (c.) — "Ladies and gentlemen." 
 
 From the crowd — "Hear ! hear !" 
 
 Mills — "Captain Donnithorne's best wishes and will 
 you please take your places at table." {croivd begin sit- 
 ting at tables, except at table slightly raised from the 
 fiOor l. Mrs. Poyser, Ketty and Totty, Lisbeth 
 Bede and Seth Bede sit at tabic r. ) 
 
 Adam {to Craig) — "Well, Mr. Craig, I'm going to 
 sit with you to-day; the captain's sent me orders." 
 
 Craig — "Ah, then there's somethin' i' th' wind, 
 there's somethin' i' the wind. Ha' you heard anything 
 about what the old squire means to do?" 
 
 Adam — "I'll tell you what I know if you'll promise 
 to keep a still tongue in your head?" 
 
 Craig — "Trust ta me, my boy, trust ta me. I've got 
 na wife to worm it out o' me an' thin run out an' 
 cackle it i' iverybody's hearin'. If you trust a mon, 
 let him be a bachelor — let him be a bachelor." 
 
 Adam — "Well, then, it was settled yesterday that 
 I'm to take the management o' th' woods. But if any- 
 body asks questions just you take no notice, an' turn 
 th' talk to something else." 
 
 Craig — "I know what to do, niver fear. The news 
 
ADAAI BEDE. 49 
 
 'ull be good sauce to my dinner, though. Mark what 
 I tell you, ye'll get on." (they go tozvards table l. zvhere 
 the crozvd are unable to decide about places. ) 
 
 Casson — "It stands to sense, as old Mr. Poyser, as 
 the old mon should sit at the top o' th' table." 
 
 Old Poyser — "Nay, nay, I'm gi'en up to my son; 
 I'm no tenant now; let my son take my place. The 
 ould folks ha' hadtheir turn; they mun make way for 
 the young" 'uns." 
 
 Craig — "I should ha' thought the biggest tenant 
 had the best right more nor the eldest. There's Mees- 
 ter Holdsworth has more land nor anybody else on th' 
 estate." 
 
 Poyser — "Well, suppose we say the mon wi' the 
 foulest land* shall sit at top; when whoiver gets th' 
 honor, there'll be no envyin' on him." 
 
 Craig — "Eh, here's Meester Massey, the schoolmas- 
 ter ought to be able to tell what's right. Who's to sit 
 at the top of the table, Meester Massey?" 
 
 Massey — "Why, the broadest man; and then he 
 won't take up other folks' room; and the next broad- 
 est must sit at bottom." {laughter and confusion of 
 taking places.) 
 
 Craig — "Well, Meester Massey, who air the broad- 
 est men?" 
 
 Massey — "Martin Poyser, the younger, to be sure. 
 He must sit at head o' table and Mr. Casson at the 
 bottom." 
 
 Craic — "Nay, Adam Bede m.ust sit at bottom. He's 
 broader nor Meester Casson." 
 
 Massey — "True, Adam Bede must sit at bottom." 
 
 (All sit, Martin Poyser at head, Adam Bede at bot- 
 tom of table. Casson provoked that he is supplanted 
 by Adam ) 
 
 Casson — "Well, Mr. Bede, you're one o' them as 
 mounts hup'ards apace. You've niver dined wi' th' 
 large tenants afore as I remember?" 
 
50 ADAM BEDE. 
 
 Adam — "No, Mr. Casson, I've never dined here be- 
 fore — but I come by Captain Donnithorne's wish, and 
 I hope it's not disagreeable to anybody here?" 
 
 Several voices — "Nay, nay, we're glad ye're come. 
 Who's got anything to say agin' it?" 
 
 Massey — "You'll sing us 'Over the hills and far 
 away,' after dinner, won't you Mr. Casson? That's a 
 song I'm uncommonly fond of." 
 
 Craig — "Peeh ! It's not to be named beside o' the 
 Scotch tunes. I've niver cared much about singin' 
 myself, but a second cousin of mine, a drovier, was a 
 rare hand at rememberin' th' Scotch tunes. He'd got 
 nothin' else to think on." 
 
 Casson — "The Scotch tunes ! I've heard enough o' 
 them Scotch tunes to last me while I live. They're fit 
 fur nothin' but to frighten th' birds with — that's to say, 
 the English birds, fur the Scotch birds may sing Scotch, 
 fur what I know." (laughter) 
 
 Craig — "Yes, there's folks as find a pleasure in 
 iindervalying what they know little about." 
 
 Hetty (at the other table) — "O, aunt, I wish you'd 
 speak to Totty, she keeps puttin' her legs up so, and 
 messin' my frock." 
 
 Mrs. Poyser — "What's the matter with the child? 
 She can niver please you. Let her come up by th' side 
 o 'me, I can put up wi' her." (Totty changes her place 
 to her mother) 
 
 Benefit Club Band heard playing Hail to the 
 Chief, r. 
 
 Mrs. Poyser — "The captain's comin' ! I hope Poy- 
 ser won't get tripped up wi' his speech o] welcome and 
 stop i' th' middle, like a balky horse." 
 
 Enter Benefit Club Band r. folloived by Arthur 
 DoNNiTHORNE and Rev. Adolphus Irwine. Arthur 
 dressed in full regimentals. Clapping of hands, waving 
 of handkerchiefs, and general demonstrations of good 
 feeling for Arthur. 
 
ADAM BEDE. 5 1 
 
 Arthur (c.) — "My grandfather and I hope all our 
 friends here are enjoying their dinner and find my 
 birthday ale good. Mr. Irwine and I are come to 
 taste it with you." 
 
 Mr. Povser rises deliberately, with his hands in 
 his pockets. 
 
 PoYSER — "Captain, my neighbors ha' put it upo' me 
 to speak for 'em to-day, for where folks think pretty 
 much alike, one spokesman's as good as a score. And 
 though we've mayhappen got contrairy ways o' think- 
 in' about a many things — this I'll say, as we're all o' 
 one mind about our young squire. We've pretty nigh 
 all on us known you when you war a little 'un an' 
 we've niver known anything on you but what was good 
 an' honorable. You speak fair an' y' act fair, an' we're 
 joyful when we look forrard to your bein' our land- 
 lord, for we believe you mean to do right by ivery- 
 body, an' 'ull make no man's bread bitter to him if you 
 can help it. That's what I mean, an' that's what we all 
 mean; an' when a man's said what he means he'd 
 better stop, fur th' ale 'ull be none the better fur stan- 
 nin'. And I'll not say how we like the ale yit, for we 
 warna goin' to taste it till we'd drunk your health in 
 it; but the dinner is good, an' if there's anybody isna 
 enjoyin' it, it rrtust be the fault o' his own inside. An' 
 as fur the rector's company, it's well known as that's 
 welcome t' all the parish wheriver he may be; and I 
 hope as he'll live to see us old folks, an' our children 
 grown to men and women, an' your honor a man o' 
 family. I've no more to say as concerns the present 
 time, an' so we'll drink our young squire's health — 
 tliree times three!" (Shouting, rapping, a jingling of 
 glasses, etc.) 
 
 Arthur — "I thank you all, my good friends and 
 neighbors, for the good opinion of me and the kind 
 feelings which Mr. Poyser has been expressing on your 
 behalf and on his own. It will always be my heartiest 
 
52 ADAM BEDE. 
 
 wish to deserve them. If I hve, we may expect that I 
 shall one day be your landlord. It hardly becomes a 
 man of my age to talk about farming to you, who are 
 most of you so much older, and men of experience; 
 still I have interested myself in such matters and 
 learned as much about them as my opportunities have 
 allowed ; and when the course of events shall place the 
 estate in my hands it will be my first desire to afford 
 my tenants all the encouragement a landlord can give 
 them. It will be my wish to be looked on by all my 
 tenants as their best friend, and nothing would make 
 me so happy as to be able to respect every man on the 
 estate, and in return, to be respected by him. I meet 
 your good hopes concerning me by telling you that my 
 own hopes correspond to them — that what you expect 
 from me I desire to fulfill ; and I am quite of Mr. 
 Poyser's opinion that when a man has said what he 
 means he would better stop. But the pleasure I feel 
 in having my own health drunk by you would not be 
 perfect if we did not drink the health of my grand- 
 father, who has filled the place of both father and 
 mother to me. I will say no more until you have 
 joined me in drinking his health." (all drink.) 
 
 Mrs. Poyser — "The captain had better not ha' 
 stirred a kettle o' sour broth. I'll not drink to the old 
 man's health." 
 
 Arthur — "I thank you, both for my grandfather 
 and for myself; and now there is one thing more I 
 wish to tell you, that you may share my happiness 
 about it. I think there can be no man here who has not 
 a respect, and some of you, I am sure, have a very 
 high regard for my friend, Adam Bede. It is well 
 known to everyone in this neighborhood, that there 
 is no man whose word can be more depended upon than 
 his; that whatever he undertakes to do, he does well 
 and is as careful for the interests of those who employ 
 him as for his own. I am proud to say that I was very 
 fond of Adam when I was a little boy, and I have 
 never lost my old feeling for him — I think that shows 
 
ADAM BEDE. 53 
 
 that I know a good fellow when I see him. (applause) 
 It has been my wish that he should have the manage- 
 ment of the valuable wood-land on the estate, both 
 because I think so highly of his character, and because 
 he has the knowledge and the skill which fit him for 
 the place. I am happy to tell you that it is my grand- 
 father's wish, too, and it is now settled that Adam 
 shall manage the woods — and by and by, I hope you 
 will join me in drinking his health. But there is a 
 still older friend of mine than Adam Bede present, Mr. 
 Ir'vi-e. I'm sure you will agree with me that we must 
 drink no other person's health until we have drunk 
 his. I know you all have reason to love him, but no 
 one of his parishioners has so much reason as I. 
 Come, charge your glasses and let us drink to our 
 excellent rector — three times three!" {the toast is 
 drunk ivith enthusiasm. Arthur steps up on the dais, 
 looks about, then sits.) 
 
 Rev. Irwine — "This is not the first time by a great 
 many that I have had to thank my parishioners for 
 giving me tokens of their good will, but neighborly 
 kindness is among those things that are the more 
 precious the older they get. Indeed, our pleasant 
 meeting to-day is a proof that when what is good 
 comes of age and is likely to live, there is reason for 
 rejoicing, and the relation between us as clergyman 
 and parishioners cam.e of age two years ago, for it is 
 three and twenty years since I first came among you, 
 and I see some tall, fine looking young men here, as 
 well ?s- =ome bloctning' young women, that were far 
 from looking as pleasantly at me when I christened 
 them, (laughter) as I am happy to see them looking 
 now. But you will not wonder when I say, that among 
 all those young men, the one in whom I have the 
 strongest ii'tercst. i? my friend, Captain Arthur Don- 
 nithorne, for whom you have just expressed your 
 regard. I had the pleasure of being his tutor for sev- 
 eral years and have naturally had opportunities of 
 knowing him intimately which cannot have occurred 
 
54 ADAM BEDE. 
 
 to anyone else who is present; and I have some pride 
 as well as pleasure in assuring you that I share your 
 high hopes concerning him, and your confidence in his 
 possession of those qualities which will make him an 
 excellent landlord when the time shall come for him to 
 take that important position among you. We feel 
 alike on most matters on which a man who is getting 
 toward fifty, can feel in common with a young man of 
 one and twenty, and he has just been expressing a 
 feeling which I share very heartily, and I would not 
 willingly omit the opportunity of saying so. That 
 feeling is his value and respect for Adam Bede. Peo- 
 ple in a high station are of course more thought of 
 and talked about and have their virtues more praised 
 than those whose lives are passed in humble, everyday 
 work; but every sensible man knows how necessary 
 that humble, everyday work is, and how important to 
 us that it should be well done. When a man whose 
 duty lies in that sort of work shows a character which 
 Avould make him an example in any station, his merit 
 should be acknowledged. He is one of those to whom 
 honor is due, and his friends should delight to honor 
 him. I know Adam Bede well. I know what he is 
 as a workman, and what he has been as a son and 
 a brother, and I am saying the simplest truth when I 
 say that I respect him as much as I respect any man 
 living. But I am not speaking to you about a stranger, 
 some of you are his intimate friends, and I believe 
 there is not one here who does not know enough of him 
 to join heartily in drinking his health." 
 
 Arthur (jumps up iilling his glass) — "A bumper 
 to Adam Bede. and may he live to liave sons as faithful 
 and as clever as himself!" (all drink) 
 
 Adam — "I'm quite taken by surprise. I didn't expect 
 anything o' this sort, for it's a good deal more than 
 my wages. But I've the more reason to be grateful 
 to you, cantain. and to you, Mr. Invine, and to all mv 
 friends here, who've drunk my health and wished me 
 well. It 'ud be nonsense for me to be saying, I don't 
 
ADAM BEDE. 55 
 
 at all deserve th' opinion you have o' me; that 'ud be 
 poor thanks to you, to say that you've known me all 
 these years and yet haven't sense enough to find out 
 a great deal of truth about me. You think if I under- 
 take to do a bit o' work, I'll do it well, be my pay big 
 or little — and that's true. I'd be ashamed to stand 
 before you here, if it wasna true. But it seems to me 
 that's a man's plain duty, and nothing to be conceited 
 about; for let us do what we will, it's only making 
 use o' the sperrit and the powers as ha' been given to 
 us. And so, this kindness o' yours I'm sure is no 
 debt you owe me, but a free gift, and as such I accept 
 it, and am thankful. And as to this new employment, 
 I've taken in hand, I'll only say that I took it at Captain 
 Donnithorne's desire, and that I'll try to fulfill his 
 expectations. I'd wish for no better lot than to work 
 under him, and to know while I was getting my own 
 bread I was taking care of his int'rests. For I believe 
 he's one o' those gentlemen as wishes to do the right 
 thing, and to leave the world a bit better than he found 
 it, which it's my belief every man may do whether he's 
 gentle or simple. There's no occasion for me to say 
 any more about what I feel toward him — I hope to 
 show it through the rest o' my life in my actions." 
 
 (Adam sits amid a clapping of hands. Arthur cr^^ 
 to him and shakes his hand warmly, then exits r. 
 There is a general movement of rising from tables. 
 Butlers move tables from the stage) 
 
 Rev. Irwine (to Mrs. Poyser) — "How do you do, 
 Mrs. Poyser? Weren't you pleased to hear your hus- 
 band make such a good speech to-day?" 
 
 Mrs. Poyser — "O, sir, the men are mostly so tongue- 
 tied you're forced partly to guess what they mean, as 
 you do wi' the dumb creatures." 
 
 Rev. Irwine — "What? You think you could have 
 made it better for him? (laughing) 
 
 Mrs. Poyser — "Well, sir, when I want to say any- 
 
56 ADAM BEDE. 
 
 thing, I can mostly find words to say it in. Not as I'm 
 a finding faut wi' my husband, for, if he's a man o' few 
 words, what he says he'll stan' to." 
 
 Rev. Irwine (looking around) — "I'm sure I never 
 saw a prettier party than this." 
 
 Mrs. Poyser — "If I'm not too inquisitive, where is 
 Mrs. Irwine and the Misses Irwine?" 
 
 Rev. Irwine — "They will be here presently. Cap- 
 tain Donnithorne has gone to fetch them. They would 
 have come before, but they were afraid of the noise 
 of the toasts. Ah, here they are now." 
 
 Enter Arthur Donnithorne leading Mrs. Irwine, 
 dressed in damask satin, jewels and black lace, followed 
 by the Misses Irwine. Mrs. Irwine sits on the 
 dais R. 
 
 Mrs. Irwine (looking about) — "Upon my word it's 
 a pretty sight, and it's the last fete-day I'm likely to 
 see, unless you make haste and get married, Arthur. 
 But take care you get a charming bride ; else I would 
 rather die without seeing her." 
 
 Arthur — "You are so terribly fastidious, god- 
 mother, I'm afraid I shall never satisfy you with my 
 choice." 
 
 Mrs. Irwine — "But I won't forgive you if she's not 
 handsome, and she must not be silly; that will never 
 do, because you'll want managing, and a silly woman 
 could never manage you." 
 
 Rev. Irwine — "What's this — something you've ar- 
 ranged, Arthur? Here's Joshua Rann with his fiddle 
 and Wiry Ben with a nosegay in his buttonhole." 
 
 Arthur — "Excuse me for a moment, godmother." 
 (leaves her and goes to c. of stage.) Now, friends, 
 we're going to have the pleasure of seeing Wiry Ben 
 dance the hornpipe, then we're going to listen to some 
 singing by Mr. Casson, and then — but I mustn't tell you 
 all we're going to do, must I? else there'll be no sur- 
 prises. But before we begin let me say this, I'm never 
 
ADAM BEDE. 57 
 
 going to be twenty-one again, (laughter) and I want 
 you all to have so good a time that you'll never forget 
 the day I came of age. Now, Wiry Ben." 
 
 (Arthur goes back to the side of Mrs. Irwine. Wiry 
 Ben, to the playing of the fiddle by Joshua Rann, 
 dances the hornpipe. Applause zvhen Ben finishes. ) 
 
 PoYSER (to Mrs. Poyser) — "What dost think o' 
 that? He goes as pat to the music as if he was made 
 o' clock work. I used to be a pretty good 'un at dancin' 
 myself, but I could niver ha' hit it just to the hair like 
 that." 
 
 Mrs. Poyser — "It's little matter what his legs are, 
 he's empty enough i' the upper story, or he'd niver come 
 jiggin' and stampin' like a mad grasshopper. The 
 gentry are fit to die wi' laughin'." 
 
 Poyser — "Well, well, so much the better if it amuses 
 em. 
 
 (Arthur moves about and arranges for the next 
 number on the programme. ) 
 
 Mrs. Irwine — "Who is that tall young man, Dau- 
 phin, with the mild face? There standing without 
 his hat and taking such care of that old woman by 
 the side of him — his mother, of course. I like to see 
 that." 
 
 Rev. Irwine — "Why, don't you know him, mother? 
 That is Seth Bede, Adam's l:»rot'ner — a Methodist, but 
 a very good fellow." 
 
 Mrs. Irwine — "He looks rather downhearted." 
 
 Rev. Irwine — "Yes, I thought it was because of 
 liis father's recent death, but Joshua Rann tells me 
 lie wants to marry that sweet little Methodist preacher, 
 Dinah Morris, staying at Poyser's. Perhaps, she has 
 refused him." 
 
 Mrs. Irwine — "Ah, I remember hearing Mr. Rann 
 tell about her; but there's no end of gossip that man 
 
58 ADAM BEDE. 
 
 can repeat. We must not listen with credence to all. 
 he says." 
 
 (With awkward movement Mr. Casson comes for- 
 zvard c, hows first to Mrs. lRWiNE,then to the crowds 
 Sings an English ballad, is given an encore. Casson 
 gives a look of triumph at Craig as he finally takes 
 his place among the croivd.) 
 
 Craig — "It's a true sayin', there's no accountin' fur 
 
 tastes. A crowd that 'ud applaud such bawlin 'ud 
 niver care t' hear th' sweet Scotch tunes, as my second 
 cousin can sing." 
 
 Arthur (c.) — "Now, friends, Signor Partie, of 
 London, will entertain us. He has brought his little 
 boy and girl with him — they are very intelligent child- 
 ren, so you must listen carefully to what they say."" 
 
 (A chair is placed in the c. of stage and a ventriloquist 
 entertains the crowd. When he has finished and re- 
 tired, dialogue continues.) 
 
 Re\^ Irwine — "There are the Poysers, mother, not 
 far off on the right hand. Mrs. Foyser is looking at 
 you. Do take notice of her." 
 
 Mrs. Irwine — "To be sure I will, {hows graciously 
 to Mrs. Foyser) A woman who sends me such ex- 
 cellent cream cheese is not to be neglected. Bless me, 
 what a cunning little child she is holding on her knee. 
 But who is that pretty girl with dark eyes ?" 
 
 Rev. Irwine — "That is Hetty Sorrel, Martin Poy- 
 ser's niece. A very likely young person and well 
 looking, too. She has lived with the Foysers six or 
 seven years. You must have seen her, mother." 
 
 Mrs. Irwine — "No, I've not seen her, son; at 
 least not as she is now. (Arthur comes up to Mrs. 
 Irwine.) Godson, I quite agree with you, Hetty 
 Sorrel is a Hebe. What a pity such beauty should be 
 thrown away among the farmers, when it's wanted 
 
ADAM BEDE. 59 
 
 SO terribly among the good families without fortune. 
 Mind, that doesn't apply to you, godson. (Arthur 
 laughingly moves away) I daresay now, the girl 
 will marry a man who would have thought her just 
 as pretty if she had round eyes and red hair." 
 
 Rev. Irwine — "No, mother, I can't agree with you 
 there. The commonest man is conscious of the dif- 
 ference between a lovely, delicate woman and a coarse 
 one." 
 
 Mrs. Irwine — "Bless me! Dauphin, what does an 
 old bachelor like you know about it?" 
 
 Rev. Irwine — "That is one of the matters in which 
 old bachelors are wiser than married men, because 
 they have time for more general contemplation." 
 
 Mrs. Irwine — "O, Dauphin, Dauphin!" 
 
 Arthur (c.) — "Next on the programme, friends, 
 will be the games." 
 
 Women attempt to zvalk as many yards as possible on 
 one leg — Donkey races etc., etc. Band stops playing. 
 
 Arthur — "The winners will now receive their 
 prizes from Mrs. Irwine." 
 
 The Misses Irwine hand packages from small table 
 to their mother. Chad's Bess is the first to come 
 forward. 
 
 Rev. Irwine — "This is Bessy Cranage, mother, 
 Chad Cranage's daughter. You remember Chad Cra- 
 nage, the blacksmith?" 
 
 Mrs. Irwine — "Yes, to be sure. Well, Bessy, here 
 is your prize — excellent warm things for winter. I'm 
 sure you've had hard work to win them this warm day." 
 (girl courtesies and zvalks azvay dejectedly) 
 
 Arthur — "You didn't think the winner was to be 
 so young, I suppose, godmother. Couldn't we find 
 something else for this girl and give that gown to 
 one of the older women? I think she's disappointed." 
 
-6o .VDAM BEDE. 
 
 Mrs. Irwine — "It is best as it is, godson; for a love 
 of finery must not be encouraged in young women of 
 that class. Nothing has been provided but what is 
 useful and substantial." 
 
 (While prizes are being given out the following 
 dialogue takes place down l.) 
 
 Adam {to Lisbeth) — "After the prizes are given 
 out they're going to have dancin' — Captain Donni- 
 thorne wants me to join in." 
 
 Lisbeth — "Eh ! it's fine talkin' o' dancin', and thy 
 fayther not long in's grave. I wish I war there too, 
 i'stid o' bein' left to take up merrier folks' room above 
 ground." 
 
 Adam — "Nay, don't look at i' that way, mother — 
 I don't mean to dance, I shall only look on. And 
 since the captain wishes me to be here, it "iid look 
 as if I thought I knew better than him, to say as I'd 
 rather not stay. And thee know'st how he's behaved 
 to me to-day." 
 
 Lisbeth — "Eh! Thee't do as thee lik'st for thy 
 old mother's got no right t' hinder thee. She's naught 
 but the old husks, and thee'st slipped away from her 
 like the ripe nut." 
 
 Ada?,! — "Well, mother, I'll go to tell the captain as 
 it hurts thy feelings for me to stay and I'd rather go 
 home upon that account; he won't take it ill then, I 
 dare say, and I'm willing." 
 
 Lisbeth — "Nay, nay, I wonna ha' thee do that — 
 the young squire 'ull be angered. Go and do what 
 thee't ordered to do, an' me an' Seth 'ull go home. 
 I know it's a great honor for thee to be so looked on — 
 an' who's prouder on it nor thy mother?" 
 
 Adam — "Well, good-bye then, mother — good-bye 
 lad — remember to feed Gyp when you get home." 
 (exit Lisbeth and Seth Bede l.) 
 
 PoYSER (comes up to Adam zvith Totty on his 
 shoulder, Hetty beside him) — "Well, Adam, I'm glad 
 
ADAM BEDE. 6r 
 
 to get sight on y' again. You're going to ha' a bit o'' 
 fun now I hope. And here's Hetty has promised no 
 end o' partners, an' I've just been askin' her if she'd 
 agree'd to dance wi' you, an' she says no." 
 
 Adam — "Well, I didn't think o' dancin' to-day." 
 
 PoYSER — "Nonsense! Why, iverybody's goin' to 
 dance, except Mrs. Irwine. The young squire has 
 picked out Hetty to be his first partner; she niver had 
 such a partner afore. It'll serve you to talk on, Hetty, 
 when you are an old woman — how you danced wi' 
 th' young squire the day he come o' age. But you'll 
 dance wi' Adam after that, won't you, Hetty?" 
 
 Hetty — "I've got no partner for the fourth dance. 
 ril dance that wi' you if you like." (Mrs, Poyser 
 joins the group.) 
 
 Poyser — "You canna for shame stand still, Adam, 
 an' you a fine young fellow an' can dance as well as 
 anybody." 
 
 Mrs. Poyser — "Nay, nay, it 'ud be unbecomin'. I 
 know the dancin's nonsense ; but if you stick at ivery- 
 thing because it's nonsense, you wonna go far i' this 
 life.'^' 
 
 Adam — "Then, if Hetty 'ull dance wi' me, I'll dance 
 the fourth dance." 
 
 Poyser — "Ah ! but you mun dance the first dance, 
 Adam, else it 'ull look partic'lar. There's plenty o' 
 nice partners to pick an' choose from, an' it's hard 
 for the gells when the men stan' by and don't ask 'em. 
 Hetty, take the little 'un while I go an' hunt a part- 
 ner." (Hetty takes Totty in her arms. Mrs. Poy- 
 ser moves toivard c. and intercepts Arthur as he 
 passes. ) 
 
 Mrs. Poyser — "I've desired Hetty to remember as 
 she's got to dance wi' you, first, sir, for she's so 
 thoughtless she'd be like enough to go an' engage her- 
 self for ivery dance." 
 
 Arthur — "Thank you, Mrs. Poyser." (a partner 
 claims Mrs. Poyser, who moves away) 
 
 Adam {to Hetty) — "Let me hold the child for you. 
 
62 ADAM BEDE. 
 
 Hetty. Children are so heavy when they're asleep." 
 (in changing Totty frojti Hetty to Adam, she wakes 
 up and peevishly strikes at Adam, in doing so she 
 catches her hand in a chain about Hetty's neck. A 
 locket leaps out from Hetty's frock, chain breaks and 
 locket falls on the floor) 
 
 Hetty — "My locket ! my locket ! never mind the 
 beads." 
 
 Adam (picks up locket) — "It's all right, it isn't 
 hurt." 
 
 Hetty (suddenly regaining her composure) — "Oh, 
 it doesn't matter. I don't mind about it." 
 
 Adam — "No matter? You seemed very frightened 
 about it a second ago." 
 
 Hetty — "See, (taking locket) they're taking their 
 places to dance." 
 
 (Arthur comes toward Hetty.) 
 
 Arthur — "Are you ready. Miss Hetty? You know 
 the first dance has been promised to me and I won't 
 give it up to any one. (as they nwz'c away Arthur 
 says aside to her) My sweet, you look more lovely 
 than ever to-day. I shall be in the wood the day after 
 to-morrow at seven ; come as early as you can." 
 
 (Arthur makes a motion for the ijiusic to be^iin. 
 Band strikes up and they dance a country dance with 
 spirit. Adam stands aside meditatively holding 
 Totty. ) 
 
 Curtain. 
 
ADAM BEDE. 63 
 
 ACT THIRD. SCENE FIRST. 
 
 In the Grove. (Two days later.) The Her- 
 mitage. 
 
 Early Evening in Summer. 
 
 Rustic house r. (End of house to the audi- 
 ence) Door l. in centre of house. Rustic table 
 L. Rustic chair r. of table. Stump down l. 
 
 Door of the Hermitage opens and Arthur and 
 Hetty come out hand in hand — Arthur is dressed in 
 .evening clothes. 
 
 Arthur — "You must hurry home, now, my Httle pet. 
 It IS growing late. Good-night, (folds her to his breast 
 and kisses her passionately) 
 
 (Enter Adam Bede r. n'ith stick over his shoulder 
 on zvhich is hung a basket of tools. Arthur and 
 Hetty quickly separate, Hetty exits hastily l. Adam 
 stands motionless looking at Arthur.) 
 
 -\rthur (pause) — "Well, Adam, you're on your 
 way home from work, I presume? I overtook pretty 
 Hetty Sorrel as I was coming to my den, the Her- 
 mitage, here. So, I took care of her and asked a kiss 
 for my pains. But I must get back now, (going r. ) 
 for this road is confoundedly damp. Good-night, 
 Adam, I shall see you to-morrow to say good-bye, you 
 know." (starts to leave) 
 
64 ADAM BEDE. 
 
 Adam — "Stop a bit, sir! I've got a word to say to 
 you." 
 
 Arthur — "What do you mean, Adam?" 
 
 Adam — "I mean, sir, I mean, sir, that you don't de- 
 ceive me by your light words. By your actions, this 
 is not the first time you've met Hetty Sorrel in this 
 grove, and this is not the first time you've kissed her." 
 
 Arthur — "Well, sir, what then?" 
 
 Adam — "Why, then, instead of acting like th' up- 
 right, honora])ie man we've all believed you to be, 
 you've been acting the part of a selfish, light-minded 
 scoundrel. You know as well as I do, what it's to lead 
 to, when a gentleman kisses and makes love to a young 
 woman like Hetty, and gives her presents as she's 
 frightened for other folks to see. And though it cuts 
 me to th' heart to say so, I say it again, you're acting 
 the part of a selfish, light-minded scoundrel !" 
 
 Arthur — "Let me tell you, Adam, you're not only 
 devilish impertinent, but you're talking nonsense. 
 Every pretty girl isn't such a fool as to suppose that 
 when a gentleman admires her beauty and pays her a 
 little attention, he must mean something particular. 
 Every man likes to flirt with a pretty girl and every 
 pretty girl likes to be flirted with. The wider social 
 distance there is between them the less harm there is, 
 for then she's not likely to deceive herself." 
 
 Adam — "I don't know what you mean by flirting, 
 but if you mean behaving to a woman as if you loved 
 her, and yet not loving her all the while, I say that's 
 no' th' action of an honest man, and what isn't honest 
 comes t' harm. I'm not a fool, and you're not a fool, 
 and you know better than what you're saying. You 
 know it couldn't be made public as you've behaved to 
 Hetty, without her losing her character and bringing 
 shame and trouble on her and on her relatives. What 
 if you meant nothing by your kissing and your pres- 
 ents ; other folks won't believe as you've meant nothing; 
 and don't tell me about her not deceiving herself. I 
 tell you as you've so filled her mind with the thought 
 
ADAM BEDE. 65 
 
 of you, that she'll never love another man as 'ud make 
 her a good husband." 
 
 Arthur — "Well, Adam, perhaps, I have gone a little 
 too far in taking ndtice of the pretty thing and 
 stealing a kiss now and then. I'm sure I wouldn't 
 bring any trouble or annoyance on her for the world. 
 But I think you look too seriously at it. You're such 
 a grave, steady fellow, you don't understand the temp- 
 tation to such trifling. Besides, you know I am going 
 away immediately, so I shan't make any more mistakes 
 of the kind. So let us say good-night, and talk no 
 more about the matter. The whole thing will soon be 
 forgotten." {starts to go) 
 
 Adam — "No! No! It'll not be soon forgotten, as 
 you've come in between her and me, when she might 
 ha' loved me — it'll not be soon forgotten as you've 
 robbed me o' my happiness, while I thought you was 
 my best friend, and a noble-minded man as I was proud 
 to work for. You've meant nothing, have you? I've 
 never kissed her i' my life, but I'd ha' worked hard for 
 years for the right to kiss her. And you make light of 
 it. You think little o' doing what may damage other 
 folks so as you get your bit o' trifling as means no- 
 tln'ng. I throw back your favors, for you're not the man 
 I took you for. I'll never count you my friend any 
 more. I'd rather you'd act as my enemy, and fight me 
 where I stand — it's all the amends you can make. 
 (Adam throivs off his coat and hat, blind with passion, 
 while Arthur stands pale and motionless, his hands 
 thrust ill his pockets.) What! won't you fight me like 
 a man ? You know I won't strike you while you stand 
 so." 
 
 Arthur — ''Go away, Adam — I don't want to fight 
 you." 
 
 Adam — "No. you don't want to fight me; you think 
 I'm a common man as you can injure without an- 
 swering for it." 
 
 Arthur — 'T never meant to injure you. I didn't 
 know you loved her." 
 
66 ADAM BEDE. 
 
 Adam — "But you've made her love you. You're a 
 double-faced man. I'll never believe a word you say 
 again." 
 
 Arthur — "Go away, I tell you, or we shall both re- 
 pent." 
 
 Adam — "No, I won't go away wi'out fightin' you. 
 Do you want provoking any more? I tell you you're 
 a coward and a scoundrel and I despise you !" (Ar- 
 thur clinches his right hand and deals a bloiv which 
 sends Adam staggering backzvard, the two men fight 
 Herccly, tzvilight deepens. Adam finally gives Arthur 
 a hloiv from tvhich he falls and lays motionless. Adam 
 ivaits for Arthur to rise.) 
 
 Adam — "Why don't you get up like a man? I say 
 why don't you get up? (pause, kneels beside Arthur 
 and raises his head. ) Have I killed him ? Captain ! 
 Captain ! Dead ! — Oh, what have I done by fightin' ? 
 taken his life but not changed the past, — Hetty — He 
 breathes, (gently he loosens Arthur's craz-at) Do 
 you feel any pain, sir? (pause.) Do you feel any hurt, 
 sir?" 
 
 Arthur (puts his hand to his waistcoat, Adam un- 
 huttons it, Arthur takes a long breath, then replies 
 faintly) — "Lay my head down, and get me some water 
 if you can." (Adam empties tools out of his basket, 
 exits hastily, returns zvith basket leaking water.) 
 
 Adam — "Can you drink a drop out o' your hand, 
 sir?" (kneeling and lifting up Arthur's head.) 
 
 Arthur — "No, dip my cravat in and souse it on my 
 head." (Adam does as requested.) 
 
 Adam — "Do you feel any hurt inside, sir?" 
 
 Arthur — "No, no hurt, but rather done up. I sup- 
 pose I fainted when you knocked me down." 
 
 Adam — "Yes, sir, I'm glad it's no worse." 
 
 Arthur — "You thought you'd done me, eh ? Come, 
 help me on my legs, (zvith Adam's help he rises) I 
 feel terribly shaky and dizzy, (leans on Adam's arm) 
 That blow of yours must have come against me like a 
 battering ram. I don't believe I can walk alone." 
 
ADAM BEDE. 6/ 
 
 Adam — "Lean on me, sir; I'll get you along. Will 
 
 you sit down a bit ? You'll perhaps be better in a min- 
 ute or two." 
 
 Arthur — "Yes, (sits in chair beside rustic table) — 
 Will you go in the Hermitage and get some brandy? 
 You'll see my hunting-bottle somewhere. A leather 
 case with a bottle and glass in it." (Adam exits into 
 the Hermitage, quickly returns with the bottle.) 
 
 Adam — "There's very little brandy in it, sir ; {turning 
 it downzvard over the glass) hardly this glass full." 
 
 Arthur — "Well, give me that." {he takes a sip or 
 two ) 
 
 Adam — "Hadn't I better run to the Chase and get 
 some more, sir? I can be there and back pretty soon, 
 an' if you don't ha' something to revive you it'll be a 
 stiff walk home for you." 
 
 Arthur — "No, this will do, I shall soon be up to 
 walking home, now." 
 
 Adam (hesitatingly) — "I can't go before r^:e sr-en 
 you safe home, sir." 
 
 Arthur — "No, it will be better for you to stay — sit 
 down." (Adam sits on stump, they remain opposite 
 to each other in uneasy silence. They do not look, at 
 each other. Arthur sips the brandy, with visibly ren- 
 ovating effect, presently changes his position to a more 
 comfortable one) 
 
 Adam — "You begin to feel yourself again, sir?" 
 
 Arthur — "Yes, but not good for much, rather lazy, 
 and not inclined to move; I'll go home when I've taken 
 this dose." (pause) 
 
 Adam — "My temper got the better o' me, and I said 
 things as wasn't true. I'd no right to speak as if 
 you'd know you was doing me an injury; for you'd no 
 grounds for knowing it; I've always kept what I felt 
 for her as secret as I could, (pause) And, perhaps, I 
 judged you too harsh — I'm apt to be harsh; and you 
 may ha' acted out o' thoughtlessness more than I 
 should ha' believed was possible for a man wi' a heart 
 
68 ADAM BEDE. 
 
 and a conscience. We're not all put together alike and 
 sometimes we misjudge one another." 
 
 Arthur — "Say no more about our anger, Adam, I 
 forgive your momentary injustice; with the exagger- 
 ated notions you had in your mind, it was quite natural. 
 We shall be none the worse friends in future I hope 
 because we've fought; you had the best of it, and that 
 was as it should be, for I believe I've been most in the 
 wrong of the two. Come, let us shake hands." {offers 
 his hand, Adam sits still) 
 
 Adam — "I don't like to say no, to that, sir, but I 
 can't shake hands till it's clear what we mean by't. I 
 was wrong when I spoke as if you'd done me an injury 
 knowingly, but I wasn't wrong in what I said before, 
 about your bebavic>r t" Hetty, and I can't shake hands 
 wi' you as if I held you my friend the same as ever, 
 till you've cleared that up better." (pause) 
 
 A.RTHUR — "I don't know what you mean by clearing 
 up, Adam. I've told you already that you think toa 
 seriously of a little flirtation. Rut if you are right in 
 supposing there is any danger in it — I'm going away 
 on Saturday to rejoin my regiment, and so there v^ull 
 be an end of it. As for the pain it has given you, I'm 
 heartily sorry for it. I can say no more." (Adam 
 rises x's to r. looks in silence at the moonlit trees, 
 turns and zvalks back to Arthur, standing looking 
 dozvn upon him.) 
 
 Adam — "Though it's hard work, it will be better for 
 me to speak plain. You see, sir, this isn't a trifle to me, 
 whatever it may be to you. I'm none o' them as can 
 go making love first to one woman and then t' another, 
 and not think it much odds which of 'em I take. What 
 I feel for Hetty's a different sort o' love, such as I be- 
 lieve nobody can know much about but them as feel it. 
 She's more nor everything else to me, all but my con- 
 science and my good name. And if it's true what 
 you've been saying all along — that it's only trifling 
 and flirting, as you call it, that 'ull be put an end to by 
 your going away — why then I'll wait, and hope her 
 
ADAM BEDE. 69 
 
 heart 'ull turn to me. I'm loath to think you'd speak 
 false to me, and I'll believe your word, however things 
 may look." 
 
 Arthur — "You would be wronging Hetty more 
 than me not to believe it — (starting up violently and 
 then sinking back into the chair) — You seem to forget 
 that in suspecting me, you are casting imputations 
 upon her." 
 
 Adam — "Nay, sir, nay; things don't lie level be- 
 tween Hetty and you. Whatever you may do, you're 
 acting wi' your eyes wide open ; but how do you know 
 what's been in her mind ? She's all but a child — as any 
 man wi' a conscience in him ought to feel bound to 
 take care on. And whatever you may think, I know 
 you've disturbed her mind. I know she's been fixing 
 her heart on you; for there's many things clear to me 
 now, as I didn't understand before. But you seem to 
 make light o' what she may feel — you don't think o' 
 that." (x's to L.) 
 
 Arthur — "Confound it, Adam, let me alone ! I 
 feel it enough without your worrying me." 
 
 Adam — "Well, then, if you feel it, if you feel it as 
 you may ha' put false notions into her mind, an' made 
 her believe as you loved her, when all the while you 
 meant nothing, I've this demand to make o' you — I'm 
 not speaking for myself, but for her. I ask you t' un- 
 deceive her before you go away. Y' aren't going away 
 forever, and if you leave her behind wi' a notion in her 
 head o' your feeling about her the same as she feels 
 about you, she'll be hankering after you an' the mis- 
 chief may get worse. It may be a smart to her now, 
 but it'll save her pain i' th' end." 
 
 Arthur — "Well, (iui patiently) what do you want 
 me to do?" 
 
 Adam — "I ask you to write her a letter; tell her the 
 truth, an' take blame to yourself for behavin' as you'd 
 no right to behave. I speak plain, sir. But I can't speak 
 any other way. There's nobody can take care o' Hetty 
 i' this matter but me." 
 
yO ADAM BEDE. 
 
 Arthur — "I shall do what I think needful without 
 giving promises to you. I shall take what measures I 
 think proper." 
 
 Adam — "No, that won't do — I must know what 
 ground I'm treading on. I must be safe as you've put 
 an end to what ought never to ha' been begun. I don't 
 forget what's owing to you as a gentleman, but in this 
 thing I can't give up to you, we're man to man." 
 
 Arthur (pause) — "I'll see you to-morrow — I can 
 bear no more now, I'm ill." (rising) 
 
 Adam — "You won't see her again? (going close to 
 him) Either tell me she can never be my wife — tell 
 me you've been lying — or else promise me what I've 
 asked." 
 
 Arthur — "I promise you; let me go." 
 
 Adam — "When will you write that letter?" 
 
 Arthur — "To-morrow." 
 
 Adam — "No, now !" 
 
 Arthur — "Oh, very well." (impatiently sinkiu<y 
 back into his chair and leaning his head upon his 
 hand) Get a candle. You'll find one in the Her- 
 mitage — on the shelf over the fireplace. And writing 
 materials on the table, (exit Adam into Hcrtiiitcgc. re- 
 turns with lighted candle, pen, paper. Arthur sits 
 listlessly for a moment, then begins to zvrite. Adam 
 walks silejitly about, then sits l. After a moment Adam 
 rises, picks up his tools and replaces them in the bas- 
 ket. Goes back and sits down with his head buried in 
 his hands. When Arthur finishes the letter he seals 
 it and hands it to Adam) There is the letter, I have 
 written everything you wish. Before you deliver it, 
 ask yourself whether you are not taking a course which 
 may pain her more than if I were to keep silent, (ris- 
 ing) There is no need for our seeing each other again. 
 We shall meet with better feelings some months hence." 
 (going r.) 
 
 Adam — "You're not well enough to walk alone, sir. 
 Take my arm again." 
 
 Arthur (haughtily) — "I believe I'll not trouble 
 
ADAM BEDE. 
 
 you. It's getting late and I must be going, or there 
 may be an alarm set up about me at home." 
 
 Adam — "You won't let me go with you, sir?" 
 
 Arthur — "No." 
 
 Adam — "Very well — good-night, sir. (Arthur 
 exits R. without replying) Perhaps he's i' the right 
 on't not to see me again. It's no use meeting to say 
 more hard words, and it's no use meeting to shake 
 hands and say we're friends again. We're not friends, 
 and it's better not to pretend it. I can't feel the same 
 toward him. God help me. I don't know whether I 
 feel the same toward anybody; I seem as if I'd been 
 measuring my work from a false line and had got it all 
 to measure o'er again." (puts basket of tools on stick 
 over his shoulder and exits l. ) 
 
 End of scene first, act third. 
 
 ACT THIRD. SCENE SECOND. 
 
 The Hall Farm. (Next day.) The Kitchen. 
 
 Same set as Act iirst. 
 
 Discovered, Hetty and Molly. Hetty has a bas- 
 ket on her arm. 
 
 Molly — "Your arms look like a fine lady's, Hetty, 
 but fine ladies doosna ha' brown hands, for they 
 doosna work, so they keep their hands white. But — 
 maybes thee 'ull ha' white hands, too, someday." 
 
 Hetty — "What do you mean?" 
 
 Molly — "I means that thee'st caught th' fancy o' 
 th' young squire." 
 
72 ADAM BEDE. 
 
 Hetty — "Who says so?" 
 
 Molly — "Nobody ha' said so, but hanna I got 
 ^yes? and canna I see? I am na' bhnd. Thee knows 
 as he's a takin' notice o' thee." 
 
 Hetty — "Well, what o' that?" 
 
 Molly — "Oh, I ha'na jealousy, that are'na i' my na- 
 ture, jealousy are'na, but I doos take notice. Will 
 yez let me come an see thee when thee's a great lady 
 livin' i' the Chase?" 
 
 Hetty — "How you talk." 
 
 Molly — "If thee wast dressed up, thee'd make a 
 grander lookin' lady nor any I've iver seen visitin' at 
 the Chase." 
 
 Hetty— "Molly." 
 
 Molly — "Yis, ye would, (undertone) If the squire 
 axes thee to marry him on th' sly, 'udn't thee do it ?" 
 
 Hetty — "Maybe." 
 
 Molly — "Course you 'ud — Didn't Meester James 
 marry Sir Lawton's niece an' nobody found it out till 
 it war o' no use to be mad about it? (pause) An' 
 then thee'U wear feathers i' thy hair, an' thee'll dress 
 up ivery day in a grand silk frock, as thee's been a-tell- 
 in' me Miss Lydia do. An' some days thee'll wear 
 a white 'un an' some days thee'll wear a pink 'un. An' 
 then thee'll ride by the Hall Farm in a coach, an' I'll 
 be on th' lookout, an' when thee sees me thee'll say, 
 'Good-day, Molly; I hope thee'st well?' An' I'll say 
 {courtesies) 'Yis, thank ye, me lady.' " 
 
 Hetty — "Think what Aunt Poyser 'ud say, Molly." 
 
 Molly — "Aye, she'd scold to see thy feathers nod- 
 din' from th' coach window, but what o' that, thee'st 
 not hear it." 
 
 (Voice of Mrs. Poyser heard calling from the gar- 
 den, "Hetty! Hetty!" Both girls jump, Molly 
 goes into dairy and Hetty goes hastily toward the gar- 
 den door Upper r., meets Mr. and Mrs. Poyser as 
 they enter door Upper R.) 
 
 Mrs. Poyser — "What hast been up to, Hetty? Look 
 at the clock, do ; a fine time o' day to begin pickin' the 
 
ADAM BEDE. 73 
 
 fruit, (exit Hetty into garden) She's no better than 
 a peacock as 'iid strut about on the wall and spread its 
 tail when the sun shone ; there's nothing seems to gi' 
 her a turn i' th' inside, not even when we thought 
 Totty had tumbled into the pit. It's my belief her 
 heart's as hard as a pibble." (comes down l. ) 
 
 PoYSER — "Nay, nay, {sits R. ) thee mustna judge 
 Hetty too hard. Them young gells air like th' unripe 
 grain — they'll make good meal by and by, but they're 
 squashy yit. Thee't see. Hetty'll be all right when 
 she's got a good husband an' children of her own." 
 
 Mrs. Poyser — "I don't want to be hard upo' th' gell. 
 An' let be what may, I'd strive to do my part by a niece 
 o' yours, an' that I've done; for I've taught her every- 
 thing as belongs to a house, an' I've told her her duty 
 often enough, though I've no breath to spare, an' that 
 catchin' pain comes on dreadful by times. Wi' them 
 three gells i' th' house, I'd need have twice the strength 
 to keep 'em up to their work. It's like havin' roast 
 meat at three fires ; as soon as you've basted one, an- 
 other's burnin'." 
 
 Enter Molly from dairy excitedly. 
 
 Molly — "O, missus !" 
 
 Mrs. Poyser — "Well, what is't ails thee gell? Out 
 with it, what hast happened, hast broke th' churn?" 
 
 Molly — "No, missus, but old Squire Donnithorne 
 ha' just drove in at th' gate." 
 
 Mrs. Poyser — "Squire Donnithorne! Poyser, I'll lay 
 my life he's brewin' some nasty turn against us, old 
 Harry doesna call to see us for nothin'." 
 
 Enter Squire Donnithorne r. c. 
 
 Squire Donnithorne {he is short-sighted and 
 peers at people when talking) — "Good-day, Mrs. Poy- 
 ser." 
 
 Mrs. Poyser — "Your servant, sir.'' {courtesies) 
 
76 ADAM BEDE. 
 
 There is much less risk in dairy-land than corn-land." 
 
 PoYSER {after a pause, to Mrs. Poyser) — "What 
 dost say?" 
 
 Mrs. Poyser — "Say? Why, I say you may do as 
 you like about givin" up any o' your corn-land, afore 
 jour lease is up, which it won't be for a year come next 
 Michaelmas Lady-day, but I'll not consent to take 
 more dairy work into my hands, either for love or 
 money ; an' there's nayther love nor money here, as I 
 can see, on'y other folk's love o' theirselves, an' the 
 money as is to go into other folk's pockets. I know 
 there's them as is born t' own the land, an' them as is 
 born to sweat on't, and I know it's Christian folk's 
 duty to submit to their betters as fur as flesh an' blood 
 'ud bear it; but I'll not make a martyr o' myself and 
 wear myself to skin an' bone, an' worret myself as if I 
 was a churn wi' butter a-comin' in't, for no landlord in 
 England, nor if he were King George himself!" {comes 
 dozen L. ) 
 
 Squire — "No, no, my dear Mrs. Poyser, certainly 
 not ; you must not overwork yourself ; but don't you 
 think your work will rather be lessened than increased 
 in this way? There is so much milk required at the 
 Chase that you will have little increase of cheese and 
 butter making from the addition to your dairy." 
 
 Poyser — "Aye, that's true." 
 
 Mrs. Poyser {x's back to l. c.) — "I daresay, I dare- 
 say it's true for men as sit i' th' chimney-corner an' 
 make believe as iverything's cut wi' ins an' outs to 
 fit int' iverything else. If you could make a pudding 
 wi' thinking o' th' batter, it 'ud be easy gettin' dinner." 
 
 Squire — "I believe selling the milk is the most 
 profitable way of disposing of dairv produce, is it 
 not?" 
 
 Mrs. Poyser — "How do I know whether the milk 
 'ud be wanted constant? An' if it wasn't, I'd have to 
 lie awake nights wi' twenty gallons o' milk on my 
 mind ! An' there's the fetchin' an' carryin' as 'ud 
 be well half a day's work for a man an' horse, — that's 
 
ADAM BEDE. 77 
 
 to be took out o" th' profits, I reckon? But there's 
 folks "ud hold a sieve under the pump and expect to 
 carry away water." 
 
 Squire — "That difficulty, about the fetching and 
 carrying, you will not have, Mrs. Poyser. Bethell will 
 do that regularly with the cart and pony." 
 
 Mrs. Poyser — "O, sir, begging your pardon, I've 
 niver been used t' havin' gentlefolk's servants comin' 
 about my kitchen a-makin' love to th' gells, an' keepin' 
 'em wi' their hands on their hips when they should be 
 down on their knees a-scourin'. If we're to go to ruin, 
 it shanna be wi' havin' our back kitchen turned into 
 a public !" 
 
 Squire — "Well, Poyser, {ignoring Mrs. Poyser.) I 
 can easily make another arrangement about supplying 
 my house. And I shall not forget your readiness to 
 accommodate me. I know you will be glad to renew 
 your lease when the present one expires ; otherwise, 
 I daresay, Thurle, who is a man of some capital, would 
 be glad to take both farms, as they can be worked 
 so well together." 
 
 Poyser — "I'm sorry, sir, but, — " 
 
 Mrs. Poyser — "Then, sir, if I may speak, and I've 
 a right to speak, though I am a woman, for I make 
 one quarter o' th' rent an' save the other quarter, — 
 I say if Mr. Thurle's so ready to take farms under you, 
 it's a pity but what he should take this, an' see if he 
 likes to live in a house wi' all the plagues o' Egypt in't 
 — rats an' mice gnawin' every bit o' cheese, an' runnin' 
 over our heads as we lie i' bed till we expect 'em to eat 
 us up alive, — and it's a mercy they hanna eat the chil- 
 dren long ago ! I should like to see if there's another 
 tenant beside my husband, as 'ud put up wi' niver 
 havin' a bit o' repairs done till a place tumbles down, 
 an' not then, on'y wi' beggin' an' prayin', an' havin' 
 to pay half. (Squire going toivard door r. c.) You 
 may run away from my words, sir, an' go spinnin' un- 
 derhand ways o' doin' us a mischief, but I tell you for 
 once as we're not dumb creatures to be abused and 
 
78 ADAM BEDE. 
 
 made money on by them as a' got th' lash i' their 
 hands. If I'm th' only one as speaks my mind, there's 
 plenty o' th' same way o' thinkin' i' th' parish, for your 
 name's no better than a brimstone match in every- 
 body's nose, — if it isna two or three old folks as you 
 think o' savin' your soul by givin' 'em a bit of flannel 
 and a drop o' porridge. You may be right i' thinking 
 it'll take but little to save your soul, for it'll be the 
 smallest savin' y' iver made, wi' all your scratchin' !" 
 
 Exit Squire Donnithorne r. c. Poyser watches 
 him go, then turns to his wife. 
 
 PoYSER — "Thee's done it, now." 
 
 Mrs. Poyser — "Yes, I know I've done it, but I"ve 
 had my say out. There's no pleasure i' livin', if you're 
 to be corked up foriver and dribble your mind out by 
 the sly, like a leaky barrel." 
 
 Poyser — "I'm sorry thee wast so harsh, Rachel." 
 
 Mrs. Poyser — "I shan't repent saying what I think, 
 if I live to be as old as th' old squire, an' there's a 
 little likelihood, — for it seems as if them as arena 
 wanted i' this world are the only ones as arena wanted 
 i' th' next." 
 
 Poyser — "But thee wotna like moving from th' old 
 place and going into a strange parish, where thee 
 know'st nobody. It'll be hard upo' us both, and upo' 
 father, too." 
 
 Mrs. Poyser — "It's no use worretin' ; there's plenty 
 o' things may happen between this an' Michaelmas 
 twelvemonth. For what we know, th' captain may be 
 master afore then." (exit into dairy) 
 
 Poyser — "I am none for worretin', (getting his 
 pipe) but I should be loath to leave th' old place, 
 an' the parish where I was born and bred and father 
 afore me. We should leave our roots behind us, I 
 doubt and never thrive again." (exit door l.) 
 
 (Enter Hetty fro in garden upper r. zvith basket 
 
ADAM BEDE. 79 
 
 ifilled zvith currants. She places basket on table l. and 
 .turns to see Adam Bede standing in the door r. c. 
 Hetty starts. ) 
 
 Adam — "I frightened you. (entering) I'm sorry. 
 You've been picking currants?" 
 
 Hetty — "Yes, aunt wanted some for pies." 
 Adam — "Hetty, I've something particular I'd Hke to 
 talk to you about." 
 
 Hetty — "Very well." (sits r. of table l.) 
 Adam — "I hope you won't think me making too 
 free, but, after what I saw on Thursday night, there's 
 something I want to say to you. You are young, 
 Hetty, and y' haven't seen much o' w'hat goes on i' th' 
 world, and it's right for me to do what I can to save 
 you from harm, for want o' your knowing where 
 you're being led to. If anybody besides me was to see 
 you wi' Captain Donnithorne they'd speak light on 
 you ; and besides that, you'll have to sufifer yourself 
 wi' giving your love to a man as can never marry you 
 an' take care of you all your life." 
 
 Hetty — "You've no right to say as I love him." 
 Adam — "I doubt it must be so, Hetty, for I canna 
 believe you'd let any man kiss you and give you a gold 
 locket with his hair in it, and meet him in the grove, 
 if you didn't love him. I'm not blaming you, for I 
 know it 'ud tegin by little and little, till at last you'd 
 not be able to throw it off. It's him I blame for stealing 
 your love, when he knew he could never make you the 
 right amends. He's been trifling with you, Hetty, and 
 making a plaything of you and caring nothing about 
 you. as a man ought to care." 
 
 Hetty — "Yes, he does care for me; I know better 
 nor you." 
 
 Adam — "Nay, Hetty, if he'd cared for you rightly, 
 he'd never ha' behaved so. He told me himself he 
 meant nothing by his kissing and his presents, and he 
 wanted to make me believe as you thought light of 
 'em, too. But I know better nor that. I can't help 
 
80 ADAM BEDE. 
 
 thinking as you've been trusting t's loving you v»?ell' 
 enough to marry you for all he's a gentleman. But 
 the thought o" marrying you has never entered his 
 head." , 
 
 Hetty — "How do you know? How durst you say 
 so?" 
 
 Ada:,i — "Perhaps, you don't believe me, Hetty, 
 maybe you think too well of him — maybe you think 
 he loves you better than he does. But I've got a letter 
 in my pocket, that after he told me he meant nothing 
 I asked him to write to you. I've not read the letter,, 
 but he says he's told you the truth in it. (takes letter 
 from his pocket) Don't let it take too much hold on 
 you. It would ha' been a mad thing if he'd wanted 
 to marry you; it 'ud ha' come to no happiness i' the 
 end. (she puts out her hand for the letter; Adam con- 
 tinues to hold it) Don't bear me ill-will, Hetty, be- 
 cause I'm the means o' bringing you this pain. God 
 knows I'd ha' borne a good deal worse for the sake o^ 
 sparing it you. (gives her the letter) There's nobody 
 but me knows about this and you needn't fear as any 
 one 'ull ever hear it from me. I'll take care o' you, 
 for you're the same as ever to me. I don't believe 
 you've done any wrong knowingly. If you was being 
 courted by a man as 'ud make you his wife, and I'd 
 known you was fond o' him, I should ha' had no right 
 to speak, but I was bound to interfere when the cap- 
 tain said he'd no thought o' marrying you. You must 
 ha' seen for some time, Hetty, that I've been in love 
 wi' you, but there's no use o' my thinking any more 
 o' that, (x's to R.) 
 
 (Enter Totty from dairy.) 
 
 Adam — "Hey, Totty! And how is Totty to-day? 
 (catches her in his arms and kisses her) What a fine, 
 big girl you're getting to be. Would Totty like to ride 
 on my shoulder — ever so high — and almost touch the 
 top o' the trees?" (Totty nods her head, Adam puts 
 
ADAM BEDE. 8 1 
 
 the child on his shoulder and exits Upper r. Totty 
 laughing zvith delight.) 
 
 (Hetty looks cautiously about, then sits r. of table 
 L., opens letter and reads aloud zvith some difficulty.) 
 
 Dearest Hetty: 
 
 I spoke truly when I said that I loved you. But I 
 ought not to have done as I have and I must do what 
 is right from now on. I would be marrying out of 
 my station if I were to make you my wife. Since I 
 cannot do this, we must part ; try not to think about 
 me any more. I am miserable while I write this. Be 
 angry, sweet one ; I deserve it. When this reaches you 
 I shall be in Windsor — below is my address — do not 
 write unless there is something I can really do for you. 
 Forgive me and try to forget everything about me, 
 except that I shall be as long as I live, 
 Your afifectionate friend, 
 
 Arthur Donnithorne. 
 
 (Hetty leans her neaa upon her hand. After a mo- 
 ment she brushes pettishly, some tears away, rises, x's 
 to r. crumples letter in her hand.) 
 
 {Enter Martin Poyser l. still smoking his pipe.) 
 
 He'^ty — "Uncle, will you let me go and be a lady's- 
 maid?" 
 
 Poyser — "Why, lass, what ails thee? What's put 
 that into thy head?" {sits r. Hetty x's to l. ) 
 
 Hetty — "I should like it better nor farm-work." 
 
 Poyser — "Nay, nay; you fancy so because you 
 donna know it, my lass. It wouldna be half so good 
 for your health nor for your luck i' life." 
 
 Hetty — "I donna care." 
 
 Poyser — "F'd like you to stay wi' us till you've got a 
 good husband ; you're my own niece and I wouldna 
 ha' you go to service as long as I ha' got a home for 
 you." 
 
82 ADAM BEDE. 
 
 Hetty — "I like the needle-work, and I should get 
 good wages." 
 
 PoYSER — "Has your aunt been a bit cross wi' you? 
 You mustna mind that, my lass — she does it for thy 
 good. There isna many as are no kin to thee, 'ud ha' 
 done by you as she has." 
 
 Hetty — "No, it isn't aunt, but I should like the work 
 better." 
 
 PoYSER — "It was all very well for you to learn the 
 work a bit, an' I gev' my consent to that fast enough, 
 sin' Mrs. Pomfret was willin' to teach you. But I niver 
 meant you to go to service, my lass; my family's eat 
 ■their own bread as fur back as anybody knows, an' I 
 •wouldna like my niece to take wage now. Besides, 
 Hetty, you've got a good chance o' gettin' a solid, 
 sober husband, as any gell i' this country. (Hetty 
 begins to cry. ) Hey ! hey ! don't let's have any cryin'. 
 Cryin's for them as ha' got no home." 
 
 Hetty — "Uncle, please let me go." 
 
 PoYSER — "Nay, my lass, give over cryin'. I'll do 
 better for you nor lettin' you go for lady's-maid." 
 
 Hetty — "I'm tired o' allays stayin' here." 
 
 PoYSER — "I canna make out why you should want 
 to go away, it looked o' late as vou'd a mind t' Adam 
 Bede." 
 
 Hetty — "Uncle, maybe by and by you'll let me go?" 
 
 PoYSER — "Nay, till thee'st married, thee must stay 
 wi' us. I know what is best for thee, lass. And so 
 let us hear no more on't." (Mr. Poyser exits into 
 dairy. ) 
 
 (Hetty sits r. of table l., takes letter from pocket, 
 reads part of it again, bursts out crying.) 
 
 (Enter Adam and Totty Upper r. Adam pnts 
 'Potty dozvn and she runs off into the dairy. Adam 
 looks at Hetty.) 
 
 Adam — "Poor child. It's because she's had her first 
 
ADAM BEDE. 83 
 
 heartache. I doubt if he will ever suffer so. {going to 
 her) Try to bear up under it, Hetty. You mustna give 
 way to your feelings, for if you do you'll look white 
 and ill and your aunt may take notice of it. Thee'st 
 a good friend in me allays, Hetty. (Hetty puts out 
 her left hand; Adam takes it in his right, and presses 
 her arm close against his heart) — (pause.) I'm going 
 to tell your uncle some ,news that'll surprise him, 
 Hetty ; and I think you'll be glad to hear it, too." 
 
 Hetty {zvhispering) — "What's that?" 
 
 Adam — "Why, Mr. Burge has offered me a share in 
 his business, and I'm going to take it." 
 
 Hetty — "I'm glad o' that." 
 
 Adam — "I thought you'd be glad, Hetty." 
 
 Hetty — "And maybe some day you"ll be marryin' 
 Mary Burge?" 
 
 Adam — "No, I shall never marry, unless — to thee. 
 Dost think by and by you could come to care for me in 
 that way, Hetty?" (Hetty looks up in his face smil- 
 ing faintly through her tears.) 
 
 Hetty — "Maybe." 
 
 Adam — "Will you try and think as some day you'll 
 
 marrv me 
 
 ?"• 
 
 Hetty — "I'll marry you any time you say, Adam." 
 {she puts her round cheek against Adam's face) 
 
 Adam — "Hetty! You mean it? I may tell your 
 aunt and uncle?" 
 
 Hetty — "Yes." 
 
 {Enter Mr. and Mrs. Poyser from dairy l. c.) 
 
 Adam — "Mr. Poyser, I've just been a-tellin' Hetty, 
 here, that Mr. Burge has offered me a share in his 
 business and that I'm going to take it." 
 
 Poyser — "Good, Adam, good ! that's as it should 
 be. I wish thee all the success that thee deserves. 
 And that's considerable i' my opinion." {shakes hands 
 tvith Adam) 
 
 Mrs. Poyser — "If everybody got their just deserts 
 
84 ADAM BEDE. 
 
 i' this world, there'd be few lookin' forrard to a soft 
 seat i' th' Hereafter." 
 
 Adam — "In a few months time if all goes well, I 
 can afiford to get married, and Hetty has just prom- 
 ised to be my wife. I hope you've no objections 
 against me for her husband ? I'm a poor man as yet, 
 but she shall want nothing as I can work for." 
 
 PoYSER — "Objections? What objections can we ha' 
 to you, lad?" 
 
 Mrs. Poyser — "Never mind your being poorish; 
 there's money in your headpiece as there's money i' 
 th' sown field, but it must ha' time." 
 
 Poyser — "You've got enough to begin on, and we 
 can do a deal tow'rt the bit o' furniture you'll want. 
 Thee's got feathers and linen to spare — plenty, eh?" 
 
 Mrs. Poyser — "It 'ud be a poor tale, if I hadna 
 feathers and linen, when I never sell a fowl but what's 
 plucked, and the wheels a-going ivery day o' the week." 
 
 Poyser — "Come, lass, come and kiss us and let us 
 wish you luck. (Hetty goes quietly and kisses her 
 uncle.) There, (patting her on the back) go and kiss 
 your aunt. I'm as wishful t' ha' you settled well as if 
 you was my own daughter; (Hetty kisses Mrs. Poy- 
 ser) and so's your aunt, for she's done by you this 
 seven year as if you'd been her own. (Hetty goes to 
 sit dozvn.) Come, come, Adam wants a kiss, too, I'll 
 warrant, and he's a right to one now. Come, Adam, 
 take one, else y' arena half a man. (Adam blushing 
 puts his arm around Hetty, stoops and gently kisses 
 her.) Rachel, we mun ha' some wine to drink their 
 health." 
 
 Mrs. Poyser — "Aye, presently." (exits l. c. go- 
 ing L. ) 
 
 Poyser — "Hast thee thought of a house for thysen'? 
 There's none empty i' th' village a'side the little 'un 
 next to Will Maskery's." 
 
 Adam — "That house would be too small, Mr. Poy- 
 ser." 
 
 Poyser — "Maybe. The best plan 'ud be for thy 
 
ADAM BEDE. 85 
 
 mother an' Seth to move there and leave the old home 
 to thee." 
 
 Adam — "Nay, I'd not consent to that. Mother 'ud 
 never be happy but in the old place. Hetty, for my 
 sake you'd be willing mother should live wi' us, would- 
 n't you?" 
 
 Hetty — "Yes — I'd as soon she lived with us as not." 
 
 PoYSER — "Well spoken, lass. But we needna fix 
 ivery thing to-day. You canna think o' getting mar- 
 ried afore Easter at the earliest, {enter Mrs. Poyser 
 L. c. li'ith tray and glasses filled zvith wine) I'm not 
 for long courtships, but there mun be a bit o' time to 
 make things comfortable." 
 
 Mrs. Poyser — "Aye, Christian folks can't be married 
 like cukoos, I reckon." (passes glass of zvine to each) 
 
 Poyser — "I'm a bit daunted though when I think 
 as we may ha' notice to quit, and be forced to take a 
 farm twenty miles off." 
 
 Mrs. Poyser — "I tell thee, Poyser, not t' fret afore- 
 hand." 
 
 Poyser — "Aye, mayhappen th' captain 'uU come 
 home afore then and make our peace wi' th' old squire. 
 I build upo' that, for I know th' captain 'ull see folks 
 right if he can. But come, drink. May Hetty, {look- 
 ing at Adam) make you a good and faithful wife, and 
 may Adam, {looking at Hetty) make you an honor- 
 able, lovin' husband, and may God bless you both." 
 {all touch glasses and drink.) 
 
 Curtain. 
 
86 ADAM BEDE. 
 
 ACT FOURTH. SCENE FIRST. 
 
 The Rectory. Eight Months Later. Evening. 
 
 Same Set as Act First. 
 
 Enter Rev. Adolphus Irwine l. c. followed by 
 Carrol zvho assists the rector to remove his coat, etc. 
 
 Carrol — "Your reverence." 
 
 Rev. Irwine — "Well, Carrol?" 
 
 Carrol — "Squire Donnithome is dead." 
 
 Rev. Irwin's— "What !" 
 
 Carrol — "He was found dead in his bed at ten 
 o'clock this morning. Mrs. Irwine begs you will not 
 retire without seeing her. She told me to say that she 
 should be awake when you came home." 
 
 {Enter Mrs. Irwine l. c. robed in a dressing gown.) 
 
 Mrs. Irwine — "Well, Dauphin, you're home at last. 
 (kisses him) 1 suppose Carrol has told you the news, 
 that the squire was found dead in his bed this morn- 
 ing?" {e.vit Carrol) 
 
 Rev. Irwine — "Yes, mother." 
 
 Mrs. Irwine — "So the old gentleman's low spirits 
 and his sending for Arthur, really meant something." 
 (she sits by fire l. Rev. Irwine r. of desk c. ) 
 
 Rev. Irwine — "What have they done about Arthur? 
 Sent a message to await him at Liverpool ?" 
 
 Mrs. Irwine — "Yes, word was sent to him before 
 the news was brought to us." 
 
ADAM BEDE. 8/ 
 
 Rev. Irwine — "Ah, then the message reached him 
 some hours ago ; barring delays he should arrive home 
 by midnight." 
 
 Mrs. Irwine — "Dear Arthur, I shall live now to see 
 him master at the Chase and making good times on the 
 estate, like a generous-hearted fellow as he is. He'll 
 be as happy as a king now. (Rev. Irwine sighs.) 
 What are you so dismal about, Dauphin ? Is there any 
 bad news? Or are you thinking of the danger for 
 Arthur in crossing that frightful Irish channel ?" 
 
 Rev. Irwine — "No, mother, I'm not thinking of 
 that." 
 
 Mrs. Irwine — "You've been worried about this law 
 business that you've been to Stoniton about. What in 
 the world is it that you can't tell me ?" 
 
 Rev. Irwine — "You will know by and by, mother." 
 
 Mrs. Irwine — "What a mysterious boy you are. 
 (rising x's to kiss him) If you were not such a con- 
 firmed bachelor, I should fancy you were in love. 
 But, good-night, my son, after your long ride you 
 must be fatigued. Promise me you will go to bed 
 at once?" 
 
 Rev. Irwine — "Presently, mother." 
 
 Mrs. Irwine — "Ah, your presentlys, I know them; 
 you're likely to sit up half the night." {going l. c.) 
 
 Rev. Irwine — "Good-night, mother, (goes zvith her 
 to the door; they kiss; Mrs. Irwine exits l. c.) It's 
 no use, it's no use of my going to bed — I can't sleep, 
 with the face of that child, Hetty Sorrel, haunting me." 
 
 (Enter Carrol l. c.) 
 
 Rev. Irwine — "Well. Carrol?" 
 
 Carrol — "Adam Bede is in the hall ; he says he 
 wishes to see you on particular business, or he wouldn't 
 trouble you, sir. (pause) Shall I show him in?" 
 
 Rev. Irwine — "Yes, Carrol." 
 
 (Carrol exits l. c. then returns and shozvs in Adam 
 Bede. ) 
 
»5 ADAM BEDE. 
 
 Rev. Irvvine — ''Good-evening, you want to speak 
 to me, Adam? Sit down. (Rev. Irwine sits r. of 
 desk c. and points Adam to a chair opposite him.) 
 
 Adam — "I come to you, sir, as the gentleman I 
 look up to most of anybody in the world." 
 
 Rev. Irwine — "I am gratified to hear you say that, 
 Adam." 
 
 Adam — "I've something very painful to tell you — 
 something as it'll pain you to hear as well as me to 
 tell. (Mr. Irwine nods his head sloivly.) You wast' 
 ha' married me and Hetty Sorrel, you know, sir, o' 
 th' fifteenth o' this month. I thought she had come to 
 love me, and I was th' happiest man i' the parish. 
 But a dreadful blow's come upon me. She's gone 
 away, sir, and we don't know where. (Mr. Irwine 
 starts up as if involuntarily, but controls himself. 
 Walks to the windotv r. and draws curtains, then re- 
 turns to his seat.) She said she was going to visit 
 Dinah Morris at Snowfield, and I went to fetch her 
 back, but she'd never been there. I'm going a long 
 journey to look for her, and I can't trust to anybody 
 but you, where I'm going." 
 
 Rev. Irwine — "Have you no idea of the reason she 
 went away?" 
 
 Adam — "It's plain enough she didna want to marry 
 me, sir. She didna like it when it came so near. 
 But that isna all, I doubt ; there's somebody else as is 
 concerned in this besides me. (Adam looks on the 
 ■door, pauses, then lifts his head and looks straight at 
 Mr. Irwine.) You know the man I've reckoned my 
 greatest friend and used to be proud to think as I 
 should pass my life i' working for him?" (Mr. Irwine, 
 as if self-control has forsaken him, grasps Adam's 
 ar)n ivhich rests on the table.) 
 
 Rev. Irv/ine — ''No, Adam, no, don't say it, don't! 
 {relaxing his hold.) Go on — I must hear it." 
 
 Adam — "That man behaved to Hetty as he'd no 
 right to behave to a girl in her station o' life. Just 
 before he v/ent av/av I found him a-kissing her as 
 
ADAM BEDE. 89 
 
 they were parting in the grove. There'd been nothing 
 said between me and Hetty, then, though I'd loved her 
 for a long while and she knew it. But I reproached 
 him with his actions, and blows passed between us; 
 and he said solemnly to me after that, as it had been 
 all nonsense, and no more than a bit o' flirting. I 
 asked him to write a letter and tell Hetty he'd meant 
 nothing, for I saw clear enough by things as I hadna 
 understood at the time, as he'd got hold of her heart. 
 I gave Pletty the letter, and she seemed to bear up 
 after awhile better than I'd expected — and she behaved 
 kinder and kinder to me — maybe she didna know her 
 own feelings then, and they came back upon her when 
 it was too late — I don't want to blame her — I can't 
 think as she meant to deceive me. But I was encour- 
 aged to think she loved me— and — you know the rest, 
 sir. (aroused) It's on my mind as he's been false to 
 me, and 'ticed her away, and she's gone to him — and 
 I'm going now to see ; I can't go back to v/ork till 
 I know what's become of her." (Mr. Irwine places 
 Ms hand upon Adam's arm this time gently.) 
 
 Rev. Irwine — "Adam, my dear friend, you have 
 had hard trials in your life. And you have proven 
 that you can bear sorrow manfully, as well as act man- 
 fully; both tasks are required at our hands. And now 
 there is a heavier sorrow coming upon you than any 
 you have yet known. (Mr. Irwine Jiesitates.) I have 
 seen Hetty this morning. (Adam springs up.) She is 
 not gone to him. She is in Stoniton." 
 
 Adam — "She is in Stoniton !" Parson, what " 
 
 Rev. Irwine — ""'Wait, Adam, wait. (Adam sits.) 
 She is in a very unhappy position, in one that will 
 make it harder for you to find her, my poor friend, 
 than to have lost her, forever." 
 
 Adam (almost in a zvhisper) — "What do you mean? 
 Tell me." 
 
 Rev. Irwine — "She has been arrested — She is in 
 prison — Her trial ended to-day." 
 
 Adam — "Her trial ! For what ?" 
 
90 ADAM BEDE. 
 
 Rev. Irvvine — "For a great crime — the murder of 
 her child." 
 
 Adam — "It can't be! (starts for the door, turns, 
 bracing his back against door. ) It isna possible ! She 
 isna guilty! Who says it?" 
 
 Rev. Irwine — "God grant she may be innocent, 
 Adam." 
 
 Adam — "But who says she's guilty? What do you 
 know about it?" 
 
 Rev. Irvvine — "Try and be calm, Adam, and I'll 
 tell you. (Adam comes back to the table, gradually 
 takes his seat again.) On Tuesday I received word 
 that a young woman was on trial at Stoniton, who 
 would neither tell who she was nor where she came 
 from. But when she was searched, a small red leather 
 pocket book was found in which two names were 
 MTitten, 'Hetty Sorrel, Hayslope,' and 'Dinah Morris, 
 Snowfield'. As a magistrate, application was made to 
 me for identifying her." 
 
 Adam — "You went to Stoniton?" 
 
 Rev. Irwine — "At once. And have been with her 
 until the close of the trial." 
 
 Adam — "Oh, God ! (groaning and leaning on the 
 table. There is a pause, then he jumps up.)li there's 
 been any crime, it's at his door, not her's. It's his 
 doing. He taught her to deceive; he deceived me 
 first. Let 'em put him on trial. Let him stand beside 
 her in court, and I'll tell how he got hold of her heart 
 and 'ticed her to evil ; and then lied to me. Is he to 
 go free, while they lay all the blame on her ? — so weak 
 and young. Oh, I can't bear it ! It's hard to lay upon 
 me — it's hard to think she's wicked, (sinks in chair, 
 then sits motionless with eyes iixed.) It was fear- 
 made her hide it — I forgive her for deceiving me — I 
 forgive thee, Hetty — thee wast deceived, too — it's gone 
 hard wi' thee, my poor Hetty — but they'll never make 
 me believe any wrong o' thee, (pause, then he starts 
 up coming dozvn l.) I'll go to him — I'll bring him 
 back — I'll make him look at her in her misery — he 
 
ADAM BEDE. 9 1 
 
 shall look at her till he can't forget it — it shall follow 
 him till he can't eat nor sleep — he shan't escape wi' 
 lies this time. He shall go to Stoniton if I ha' to 
 drag him there myself." (goes toward door l. c.) 
 
 Rev. Irwine — "No, Adam, no. The punishment 
 will fall without your aid. He is now on his way home 
 and may arrive at any moment. Besides, Adam, you 
 forget that there are other people to consider as well 
 as yourself. This sorrow has fallen on the good Poy- 
 sers more heavily than I can bear to think." 
 
 Adam — "Have they been to see Hetty?" 
 
 Rev. Irwine — "No, Mrs. Poyser is too ill to go, 
 and though Mr. Poyser has spent money liberally in 
 Hetty's defense, he cannot find it in his heart to go to 
 her." 
 
 Adam — "Poor child. Such a little while ago looking 
 so happy and so pretty — kissing 'em all, and they 
 wishing her luck — Oh, my poor, poor Hetty— dost 
 think on it now ?" 
 
 Rev. Irwine — "Drink some wine, (offering him 
 some zvine) and show me you mean to bear up like 
 a man." (ivith quiet obedience Adam, drinks a little) 
 
 Adam — "Will you go with me to Stoniton, parson?" 
 
 Rev. Irwine — "Yes, of course, I will go with you, 
 Adam." 
 
 Adam — "When ? To-morrow, first thing i' th' morn- 
 ing?" 
 
 Rev. Irwine — "If you wish it, yes." 
 
 Adam — "We may meet him if we set out early 
 enough ?" 
 
 Rev. Irwine — "No, he will come from the opposite 
 direction. The nearest place for him to leave the coach 
 is at Lansdale." 
 
 Adam — "Yes — well then, we'll wait — we can't go 
 till I've seen him. She shall ha' justice. I don't care 
 what she's done — it was him brought her to it, and he 
 shall know it — he shall feel it — if there's a just God, 
 that man shall feel Avhat it is t' ha' brought a child like 
 her to misery." 
 
•92 ADAM BEDE. 
 
 Rev. Irwine — "Adam, if you obey your passion, 
 though you deceive yourself in calling it justice — it 
 will lead you precisely as it has led him; nay, it may 
 lead you into a worse crime." 
 
 Adam — "No, not worse. I don't believe it's worse. 
 I'd sooner do it. I'd sooner do a wickedness as I 
 could suffer for myself, than ha' brought her to do 
 wickedness." 
 
 Rev. Irwine — "Adam, there is no wrong deed of 
 which a man can bear the punishment alone. An act 
 of vengeance would only add an evil to those we are 
 already suffering under." 
 
 Adam — "I must see him afore we go to Stoniton." 
 
 Rev. Irwine — "But he may not come as we expect. 
 Some accident may delay him for two or three days. 
 I think we would better not wait. Instead, I will send 
 a note to the Chase to be delivered as soon as he 
 reaches home, telling him to follow me to Stoniton." 
 
 Adam — "Would he do it?" 
 
 Rev. Irwine — "Yes, if I asked him to, I am confi- 
 dent he would. Such an arrangement would be better 
 than for us to wait here in a state of uncertainty — 
 when we might be of comfort to Hetty, (zmtches the 
 effect of his zvords upon Adam) I'll write the note 
 now, and send it off at once, (pen, ink and paper on 
 table. Adaai sits quietly l. of table c. zvhile Rev. 
 Irwine ivrites the letter) 
 
 Rev. Irwine (zvrites) "Arthur: 
 
 I send this letter to meet 
 you on your arrival because I may then be at Stoniton, 
 where I am called by the most painful duty it has ever 
 been given me to perform. Hetty Sorrel is in prison 
 under a terrible accusation. The jury are considering 
 the verdict. Follow me to Stoniton at once. 
 
 Adolphus Irwine. 
 
 Rev. Irwine folds and seals letter, taps bell. Car- 
 rol enters l. c. 
 
ADAM BEDE. 93 
 
 Adam — "Oh, God ! and men ha' suffered Hke this 
 before — (Rev. Irwine gives Carrol directions and he 
 exits) and poor, helpless young things ha' suffered 
 like her. (pause) Tell me what they've said, I must 
 know it now — I must know what they have brought 
 against her. Did the evidence go hard against her? 
 What do you think? Tell me the truth, Mr. Irwine." 
 
 Rev. Irwine — "Yes, Adam. The doctor's testimony 
 is heavy against her." 
 
 Adam — "But what did she say?" 
 
 Rev. Irwine — "Denied everything from first to last, 
 in the face of the most positive evidence." 
 
 Adam — "It's no use — it's no use, I can't believe she's 
 guilty, parson, (pause) How did she look?" 
 
 Rev. Irwine — "Frightened. Very frightened, and 
 when they asked her if she'd plead guilty or not guilty, 
 she did not answer, so they plead for her, 'not guilty.' " 
 
 Adam — "Was there nobody there to stand by her? 
 nobody there as 'ud care for her?" 
 
 Rev. Irwine — "No one, but me. I sat by her and 
 did what I could for her." 
 
 Adam — "God bless you for it ! God bless you for it !" 
 
 Rev. Irwine — "It was little that anyone could do, 
 for she sat like a white image, refusing to speak and 
 seeming not to hear nor see." 
 
 Adam — "Poor child. Poor Hetty, my sweet. 
 (pause) Has Dinah Morris been to see her?" 
 
 Rev. Irwine — "No, they are afraid the letter has 
 not reached her. It seems she is away preaching, and 
 they have no exact address. If she knew the child 
 needed her, I am sure she would go to her." 
 
 Adam — "Aye, that she would. Did you ask Hetty, 
 did you say anything about me, sir?" 
 
 Rev. Irwine — "Yes, I asked her if you might come 
 to see her." 
 
 Adam — "Well, parson, well?" 
 
 Rev. Irwine — "She is very much changed, Adam, 
 and she shrinks from seeing anyone. When I men- 
 
94 ADAM BEDE. 
 
 tioned your name she only said 'No, no,' in the same 
 cold way." 
 
 Adam (jumping up and walking about) — "Oh, she 
 lies there in misery, while he — he " 
 
 Rev. Irwine — "He will suffer long and bitterly. 
 Why do you seek vengeance in this way, Adam? No 
 amount of torture that you could inflict on him would 
 benefit her." 
 
 AdaM' — "No! (sinking in chair l. of table c.) 
 that's what makes the blackness of it — it can never be 
 undone. She can never be my sweet Hetty again, 
 looking up at me, the prettiest thing that ever smiled. 
 I thought she loved me — and was good." 
 
 (Enter Carrol l. c. ) 
 
 Rev. Irwine — "Well, Carrol?" 
 
 Carrol — "There is a messenger in the hall from 
 Stoniton. He says he must see you." 
 
 Rev. Irwine — "I will go to him." (starts to go l. c. ) 
 
 Adam — "No, parson, no. If it's news from her let 
 me hear it, too." 
 
 Rev. Irwine — "Very well. Show him in, Carrol." 
 (exit C.-krrol l. c; returns shoiving in a messenger) 
 
 Messenger — "Rev. Mr. Irwine?" 
 
 Rev. Irwine — "That is my name." 
 
 Messenger — "You asked to be notified of the ver- 
 dict in the Sorrel case?" 
 
 Rev. Irwine — "I did." 
 
 Adam — "Speak out, man, quick, speak, what is it?" 
 
 Messenger — "Guilty." 
 
 Adam (staggering back) — "Oh! She's not guilty! 
 She's not guilty! You don't think she is, sir, do you? 
 (exit messenger.) She can't ha' done it. Will they 
 hang her?" 
 
 Rev. Irwine — "We can try for a pardon, Adam. 
 Her youth will be a plea for her." 
 
 Adam — "Come! You promised to go wi' me to 
 Stoniton. i m going." 
 
ADAM BEDE. 95 
 
 Rev. Irwine — "Not to-night." 
 
 Adam — "Yes, now ! It's cowardly o' me to keep 
 away a minute longer. I'm going to her, for all she's 
 been deceitful. We ha' no business to hand folks over 
 to God's mercy and then forget to show mercy our- 
 5elves. I'll go to her, an' I'll stand by her, I'll stand 
 by her to the end. Come ! Mr. Irwine. Come !" 
 (grabs up his hat and starts for the door l. c.) 
 
 End of Scene First, Act Fourth. 
 
 ACT FOURTH— SCENE SECOND. 
 
 The Prison. (Two Weeks Later.) Early Morning. 
 
 The Prison. 
 
 Cell door l. Straw pallet r. Chair l. c. Small 
 window high in wall r. 
 
 Discovered, Hetty seated on straw pallet zvith her 
 face buried in her knees. Key turns harshly in the 
 lock. Enter Jailor follozved by Dinah Morris l. 
 
 Jailor — "There she is." 
 
 Dinah — "Thank thee, friend." 
 
 Jailor — -"She's so sullen most o' th' time, she won't 
 answer when she's spoken to. Is she kin o' 'yourn?" 
 
 Dinah — :"Yea, my own aunt married her uncle. I 
 was away at Leeds and didn't know of this trouble in 
 time to get here, before. What hour does the cart set 
 out?" 
 
 Jailor — "Eight o'clock. It's pretty dark in here 
 now, but it'll be lighter as the sun gets up. (going) If 
 vou want anvthing, I'll be within call." 
 
g6 ADAM BEDE. 
 
 Dinah — "I am grateful for thy kindness, {cxir. 
 Jailor l.) (pause) Hetty, (slight movement of 
 Hetty's frame, out she does not look up) Hetty, — 
 it's Dinah. (Hetty raises her head a little as if listen- 
 ing.) Hetty, — Dinah is come to you. (Hetty lifts 
 her head sloiuly and timidly, the tzvo zvomen 
 look into each others faces, Dinah stretches out 
 her anus.) Don't you know me, Hetty? Don't 
 you remember Dinah? Did you think I wouldn't 
 come to you in trouble? (Hetty looks fixedly on 
 Dinah's face, but does not move) — I'm come to be 
 with you, Hetty, — not to leave you — to stay with you — 
 to be your sister to the last (slozuly Hetty rises, takes 
 a step forzvard and is clasped in Dinah's arms — long 
 pause. They sit on pallet.) Hetty, do you know who 
 it is that sits by your side ?" 
 
 Hetty — "Yes, it's Dinah." 
 
 Dinah — "And do you remember the evening we 
 met in the wood, and I told you to be sure and think of 
 me as a friend in trouble?" 
 
 Hetty (pause) — "Yes, but you can do nothing for 
 me. You can't make 'em do anything. They'll hang 
 me to-day. It's morning now." (shudders) 
 
 Dinah — "No, Hetty, I can't save you from that 
 death. But isn't the suffering less hard when you have 
 somebody with you that feels for you, that you can 
 speak to, and say what's in your heart ?" 
 
 Hetty — "You u-on't leave me, Dinah ? You'll keep 
 close to me ?" 
 
 Dinah — "No, Hetty, I won't leave you. I'll stay 
 with you to the last — But, Hetty, there is some one 
 else in this place beside me, some one close to you." 
 
 Hetty (frightened tvhisper) — "Who?" 
 
 Dinah — "Some one who has been with you through 
 all you hours of trouble — one who has known every 
 thought you have had — has seen where you went, 
 where you lay do^^'n and rose up again, and all the 
 deeds yoii have tried to hide in darkness — And to-day, 
 when I can't follow you, when my arms can't reach 
 
ADAM BEDE. 97 
 
 you, when death has parted us, He, who is with us 
 now, and knows all, will be with you then. It makes 
 no difference whether we live or die, we are in the 
 presence of God." 
 
 Hetty — "O, Dinah, won't nobody do anything for 
 me? Will they hang me to-day? — I wouldn't mind if 
 they'd let me live." 
 
 Dinah — "My dear Hetty, — death is very dreadful 
 to you, I know. But if you had a friend to take care of 
 you after death, in that other world — some one whose 
 love is greater than mine, who can do everything — 
 If God, our Father was your friend, and was willing 
 to save you from sin and suffering, so as you should 
 neither know wicked feelings nor pain again, if you 
 could believe He loved you and would help you, as you 
 believe I love and will help you, it wouldn't be so hard 
 to die, would it?" 
 
 Hetty (zvith sullen sadness) — "But I can't know 
 anything about it." 
 
 Dinah — "Because, Hetty, you are shutting up your 
 soul against Him, by trying to hide the truth. God's 
 love and mercy can oveixome all things, all things but 
 our willful sin ; sin that we cling to and will not give 
 up. You believe in mv love for you, don't you, 
 Hetty?" 
 
 Hetty — "Yes." 
 
 Dinah — "But if you hadn't let me come near you; 
 if you wouldn't have looked at me or spoken to me, 
 you'd have shut me out from helping you. I couldn't 
 have made you feel my love. Don't shut God's love 
 out in that way, by clinging to falsehood and sin, but 
 open your heart to Him, say, 'I have done this great 
 wickedness; O, God, have mercy upon me, and save 
 me.' And then there will enter into your soul light 
 and blessedness and strength and peace. Cast it off 
 now, Hetty, now; confess the wickedness you have 
 done, and have rest. Let us kneel down together, for 
 we are in the presence of God. (they sink on their 
 knees each holding the other's hand, a pause) Hetty, 
 
98 ADAM BEDE. 
 
 we are before God; He is waiting for you to tell the 
 truth." 
 
 Hetty — "Dinah — help me — I can't feel anything 
 like you." 
 
 Dinah (pause) — "Thou, who hast known the 
 depths of all sorrow ; Thou, who hast entered that 
 black darkness where God is not, and hast uttered the 
 cry of the forsaken, stretch forth Thy hand, and rescue 
 this, Thy wandering child. The darkness surrounds 
 her, she does not know the way to come to Thee; she 
 can only feel that her heart is hard and she is helpless. 
 She cries to me, Thy weak creature, — Saviour, — it is 
 a blind cry to Thee. Hear it. Pierce the darkness. 
 Look upon her with Thy face of love and melt her 
 hard heart. See, Lord, I bring her in my arms for 
 Thee to heal and bless. Breathe upon her Thy life- 
 giving spirit, and make her feel Thy living presence. 
 Saviour, — it is yet time, snatch this poor soul from 
 darkness. I believe, I believe in Thy infinite love, yea. 
 Lord, I see Thee coming like the morning with healing 
 on Thy wings. Come, mighty Saviour, open her blind 
 eyes, let her see that Thy love dost encompass her. Let 
 her tremble at nothing but at the sin which cuts her off 
 from Thee. Melt her hard heart, unseal her closed 
 lips, and make her cry with her whole soul, 'Father, I 
 have sinned!' " 
 
 Hetty (sobbing and throzving her arms about 
 Dinah) — "Dinah, I will speak — I will tell — I won't 
 hide it any more. (Dinah raises her from the floor 
 and they sit on the pallet again, after sobs grozv less 
 hysterical — she ivhispers) I did do it, Dinah — I left 
 it in the wood and it cried — I heard it cry a long way 
 off — all night — (the remainder of her speeches Hetty 
 should play in a dull monotone) and I went back be 
 cause it cried. I didn't want to hurt it — but I thought 
 perhaps there might somebody find it. I put it down 
 there because I was so miserable — I didn't know where 
 to go — I tried to kill myself, but I couldn't. And when 
 I went back, it was gone." 
 
ADAM BEDE. 99 
 
 Dinah — "Were did you go when you left Hay slope, 
 Hetty?" 
 
 Hetty — "To Windsor. I went to find him, as lie 
 might take care o' me ; and he was gone with the regi- 
 ment to Ireland, and then I didn't know what to do. I 
 daren't go back home again — I couldn't bear th' scorn 
 o' everybody." 
 
 Dinah — 'Tf only you had come to me, Hetty." 
 
 Hetty — "I thought o' you sometimes and it was that 
 made me come toward Stoniton, but when I got to 
 Stoniton I began to be afraid, because T was going to- 
 wards home. And an old beggar woiiian was- kind to 
 me. Oh, it was so dreadful, Dinah. I couldn't bear 
 being so lonely and coming to beg for want And the 
 thought gave me strength to get up and dress myself. 
 — And when the old woman went out, I put on my bon- 
 net and shawl an' took the baby in my arms an' went 
 out into the dark street. I walked fast, on and on, till 
 it got lighter — the moon came out — O, Dinah! it 
 frightened me when it first looked at me out of t!ie 
 clouds, — it never looked so afore. And I turned out 
 o' tlie road into the fields, for I was afraid o' meeting 
 somebody. I came to a haystack ; there was a place cut 
 into it, where I could make a bed ; I crawled in, and 
 went to sleep. When I woke up it was beginning to 
 be light, and I saw some woods close by, and it was 
 so early I thought I could leave the baby tliere and 
 somebody would find it when I was a long ways off. I 
 wanted to go home, and I thought I'd get rides in carts 
 and go home and tell 'em I'd been to try and see for a 
 place and couldn't get one. I longed for home, 
 Dinah." 
 
 Dinah — "Of course you did, my child, and you 
 needed one so much." 
 
 Hetty — "By and by, I came to a place where there 
 was lots o' turf, and I sat down to think what I should 
 do. And all of a sudden I saw a hole under a tree and 
 it darted into me as I might put the baby there. So 
 I wrapped it in my shawl an' laid it down. And then 
 
 LofC. 
 
lOO ADAM BEDE. 
 
 I ran out o' th' wood into the fields, but the crying held 
 me back; I couldn't go away for all I wanted to go. 
 And I sat against the haystack to watch if anybody 
 'ud come; I was hungry and I'd only a bit o' bread 
 left; but I couldn't go away." 
 
 Dinah — "My dear Hetty." 
 
 Hetty — "After awhile — hours and hours — the man 
 came — him in a smock frock, and he looked at me so, 
 I made haste and went on." 
 
 Dinah — "Where did you go then?" 
 
 Hetty — "I walked till I came to a village. I was so 
 sick and faint. I got something to eat, but I was 
 frightened to stay there for I heard it crying and I 
 thought the other folks heard it, too. It was getting 
 dark, and I was so tired, Dinah, but I went on. At 
 last I saw a barn way ofif from any house. I got there 
 and hid myself behind the hay and straw and I went 
 to sleep. But, O, Dinah ! the crying kept waking me, 
 and I thought that man as looked at me so, was come 
 and laying hold o" me. I slept a long while and at 
 last it was morning and I got up and turned back the 
 way I'd come. I couldn't help it, Dinah, it was the 
 crying made me go. I forgot about going home, I 
 couldn't think about anything but the place in the 
 wood. I see it now. O, Dinah! shall I allays see it?" 
 (Hetty clings to Dinah.) 
 
 Dinah — "No, Hetty, no; in a little while all the pain 
 and the sorrow of it will be gone." 
 
 Hetty — "When I got to the place it was empty. I 
 was like a stone with fear. I couldn't move. I 
 couldn't run away. I couldn't wish or try for 
 anything; it seemed as if I should stay there for- 
 ever and nothing 'ud ever change. But after awhile 
 some men came and took me away, (shudders) O. 
 Dinah! do you think God will take away that crying 
 and the place in the wood, now I've told everything?" 
 
 (Enter Jailor l.) 
 Dinah (going to him) — "Is it time?" 
 
ADAM BEDE. lOI 
 
 Jailor — "No, not yet. Mr. Irwine is outside, he 
 A^ants to know if she won't let Adam Bede come in wi' 
 him. Adam Bede's been here afore, but she'd never 
 see him." 
 
 Dinah (going to Hetty) — "Hetty, Mr. Irwine and 
 Adam Bede are waiting to see you — Shall they come 
 in? (Hetty hesitates, then nods her head.) Yea, let 
 them come in. {exit Jailor) Hetty, there is no one 
 who has a deeper love for you than Adam Bede — no 
 one on earth to whom you have done a greater wrong ; 
 when he comes, be kind to him. Ask him to forgive 
 you. He will, Hetty, for he loves you." 
 
 {Enter Jailor followed by Mr. Irwine and Adam 
 Bede l.) 
 
 Dinah — "Mr. Irwine. (Irwine goes to Hetty) 
 Be comforted, Adam Bede, the Lord has not forsaken 
 her." 
 
 Adam — "Bless you for coming to her." 
 
 Dinah — "Thank thee, friend — Hetty desires to ask 
 your forgiveness. And now the time is short." 
 
 Adam {zvalks back and forth) — "It won't be, — it'll 
 be put off — there'll, perhaps, come a pardon. Mr. Ir- 
 wine said there was hope ; he said that I needn't quite 
 give it up." 
 
 Dinah — "That's a blessed thought to me. It's a 
 fearful thing hurrying her soul away so fast. But 
 Divine Love has taken the pride out of her heart and 
 this fills me with trust that God will show her His 
 mercy. You will say good-bye and let her ask your 
 forgiveness ?" 
 
 Adam — "I can't, T can't say good-bye while there's 
 hope. I'm listening and listening — I can't think o' 
 anything but that. It can't be as she'll die a shameful 
 death — I can't bring my mind to it." 
 
 Dinah — "I will not urge you." 
 
 Adam — "If I could do anything to save her — but 
 t' have to bide still and do nothing. It's hard for a 
 
I02 ADAM BEDE. 
 
 man to bear — and to think o' what might ha' been now, 
 if it hadna been for him !" 
 
 Dinah — "Aye, it is a heavy cross. But remember, 
 we must learn to rise above sorrow and pain, and then 
 there may come good out of all this that we don't now 
 see." 
 
 Adam — "Good come out of it? That doesna alter 
 th' evil. When a man's spoiled his fellow creature's 
 life, he's no right to comfort himself wi' thinking 
 good may come out of it ; somebody's good doesna alter 
 her misery." 
 
 (Enter Jailor l. ) 
 
 Jailor — "The cart is to set out in five minutes. Vis- 
 itors must leave the prison." 
 
 Dinah (to Mr. Irwine) — "You will stay till we go 
 to the cart ?" 
 
 Rev. Irwine — "Yes." 
 
 Adam (to Jailor) — "Is there no news come, — no 
 pardon?" (Dinah goes to Hetty.) 
 
 Jailor — "None." 
 
 Dinah (leads Hetty to Adam. Hetty rests her 
 cheek against Dinah's. Hetty and Adam look at 
 each other. Hetty trembles) — "Speak to him, Hetty, 
 tell him what is in your heart." 
 
 Hetty (obeys like a child) — "Adam — I'm sorry, I 
 behaved wrong to vou — will vou — forgive me before 
 I die?" 
 
 Adam — "Yes, — I forgive thee, Hetty, — I forgave 
 thee long ago." (Hetty keeps hold of Dinah's hand 
 but steps forivard a little, timidly.) 
 
 Hetty — "Will you kiss me again, Adam, for all I've 
 been so wicked?" (Adam draws her to him and folds 
 her in his arms.) And tell him, tell him — for there's 
 nobody else to tell him — as I went after him and 
 couldn't find him — and I hated him and cursed him 
 once, but Dinah says I should forgive him — and 
 I try — for else God won't forgive me." (they separ- 
 ate) 
 
ADAM BEDE. IO3 
 
 Dinah (to Adam) — "Farewell; our heavenly 
 Father comfort you and strengthen you to bear all 
 things. (Adam presses Dinah's hand and exits l. ) 
 Close your eyes, Hetty, and let us pray without ceas- 
 
 (Distant noise of shouting heard, shouts come nearer 
 and nearer.) 
 
 Hetty — "What is that, Dinah? Are they coming 
 for me ? Oh, save me, Dinah, save me ! Can't you save 
 me?" 
 
 Dinah — "O, Father, give us strength, for Thou 
 art strength, and we are Thy weak creatures." 
 
 (Noise becomes a tumult, Jailor opens cell door, 
 Arthur Donnithorne rushes in with glared eyes 
 and carrying a paper in his hand. Falls at Hetty's 
 feet.) 
 
 Rev. Irwine (taking paper out of his hands) — 
 "What is this ?" 
 
 Arthur — "Read — to — her — quick, quick !" 
 
 Rev. Irwine (reads) — "Hetty Sorrel shall be trans- 
 ported to Australia for life and the sentence of death 
 is hereby revoked !" (Hetty leans upon Mr. Irwine's 
 shoulder in a half-fainting condition. Jailor exits.) 
 
 Dinah (extending her arms and looking upzvard) 
 — "God of mercy, I thank Thee! I thank Thee!" (out- 
 side the cheering of the crowd is heard.) 
 
 Curtain. 
 
104 ADAM BEDE. 
 
 ACT FIFTH. 
 
 India, April 6th, 1799. Grove of Sultanpet. 
 
 (Six Months Later.) 
 
 Battle in Progress. Noise of Cannon.\ding. 
 
 At rise of curtain soldiers, headed by an ofHcer on 
 horseback, are marching across the stage from l. to r. 
 Fife and drum corps. Followed by guns draivn by 
 horses, and a battalion of sepoys. Discovered, Dinah 
 Morris, bending over a zvounded man dozvn l. 
 
 Enter Surgeon Maltby r. 
 
 (Dinah, rising, x's quickly to him.) 
 
 Dinah — "How is the battle going?"' 
 
 Surgeon — "If there is no repetition of last night's 
 retreat, Tippu Sahib's forces will soon be routed." 
 
 Dinah — "Heaven be praised !" 
 
 Surgeon — "With the 94th regiment Colonel Welles- 
 ley is doing nobly." 
 
 Dinah — "Will there be such a victory as at Mal- 
 vilH?" 
 
 Surgeon — "I trust so. Thus far the number of Brit- 
 ish killed and wounded is but slight." 
 
 Dinah — "God grant it may continue so. How long 
 must this misery go on, doctor?" 
 
 Surgeon — "Until Tippu's power is broken, until 
 Seringapatam is taken." 
 
ADAM BEDE. IO5 
 
 Dinah — "I pray that may be soon." 
 Enter Jack Cranage l. 
 
 Surgeon (to Jack) — "T shall establish new quarters 
 at this spot and have part of last night's wounded trans- 
 ferred here." 
 
 Jack — "Yes, sir." 
 
 Surgeon — "This will also be a suitable place to 
 bring some of those injured to-day." (exit l.) 
 
 Dinah (aside) — "Those injured to-day. I cannot 
 think it is needful such suffering should be." 
 
 Jack looks curiously at Dinah, approaches her. 
 
 Jack — "I sav, miss, was you ever in Hayslope, Eng- 
 land ?" 
 
 Dinah — ''Yea, there are those very dear to me liv- 
 ing there." 
 
 Jack — "I thought I'd seen you afore. You're the 
 little Methody preacher. Don't you remember me? 
 I'm Jack Cranage." 
 
 Dinah — "Jack Cranage. Are you Chad Cranage, 
 the blacksmith's son?" 
 
 Jack — "That's who I be." 
 
 Dinah — "God bless thee, friend, (offers hand) I 
 am glad to see thee. What news do you hear from 
 home?" 
 
 Jack — "I ha' heard no news o' late an' that's good 
 news. But how'd you get here? how'd they come to 
 let a woman through to the front?" 
 
 Dinah — "At first I was forbidden. But when I 
 told them that T saw clearly it was the Lord's will for 
 me to come, they gave me leave. To what regiment 
 do you belong, friend ?" 
 
 Jack — "To the 94th. I'm detailed to help bring in 
 the wounded." 
 
 Dinah — "Then I shall see thee through the day. 
 My work is here beside the surgeon. To what com- 
 pany do you belong?" 
 
Io6 ADAM BEDE. 
 
 Jack — "Company B., Captain Arthur Donnithorne." 
 
 Dinah — "Tell me of the young man. Has any harm, 
 come to him?" 
 
 Jack — "Not's I know of." 
 
 Dinah (aside) — "Thank God. Then all may yet 
 be well. Have you seen Adam Bede of late ?" 
 
 Jack — "Yes, I ha' seen him, but he ain't in our com- 
 pany. He's in Company E." 
 
 Dinah — "Will you see Adam Bede to-day, think?" 
 
 Jack — "Mayhappen, I might see him." 
 
 Dinah — "If you should, will you tell him that Dinah. 
 Morris is here, that she would like to speak with him ?" 
 
 Jack — "I ain't likely to see him, but if I do I'll tell 
 him what you say." (going r.) 
 
 Dinah — "I thank thee, friend." 
 
 Noise of cannonading heard in the distance R. 
 
 Jack (looking off r.) — "They're hard at it. Tippu's 
 men 'ull catch it to-day. Afore Lord Mornington gets 
 through with him Tippu Sahib 'ull wish he'd never 
 made his blasted alliance with the Frencn." (exit R.) 
 
 Enter Surgeon Maltby l., folloived by sepoys car- 
 rying injured men. Enter three or four native zvonien.. 
 They assist Dinah in looking after the injured. The 
 firing continues. Uproar increases. 
 
 Enter r. some British soldiers, forced back by Tip- 
 pu's men. They fight fiercely. British soldiers force 
 Tippu's men off the stage r. Some zvounded left on 
 the stage. These Dinah and the ivomen care for. 
 
 Enter Jack Cranage and a sepoy r. carrying Adam 
 Bede. He is zvounded and unconscious. 
 
 Surgeon — "Place him here, (indicating l. c.) Lay- 
 him down carefully, (they lay him doivn. Surgeon ex- 
 amines Adam. CRAfi AGE stands by). Poor fellow." 
 
 Jack — "He's going to die?" 
 
ADAM BEDE, lO^ 
 
 Surgeon — "Yes, his wound is fatal." 
 
 Jack — "An' he needna been hurt at all if he hadna 
 taken what was meant for Captain Donnithorne." 
 
 Surgeon — "What's that you say?" 
 
 Jack — "Just now, on the field, I was givin' drink 
 to a man who was dyin' when I heard a yell, an' saw 
 Captain Donnithorne fightin' hand to hand wi' some (> 
 those damned Mahrattas. He was gettin' th' worst o' 
 it till Adam Bede sprang up an' ran between 'em. They 
 had an awful tussle an' th' next thing I knew Adam 
 Bede was lying on the ground as if he was dead." 
 
 Surgeon — "If you hadn't brought him in at once 
 he never would have left the field alive." 
 
 Adam rccoi'crs consciousness. Jack goes to Dinah.. 
 
 Adam — "What ha' happened, Doctor?" 
 
 Surgeon — "You've been wounded. Are you in 
 pain ?" 
 
 Adam — "It doesna matter about me. Where is Cap- 
 tain Donnithorne ?" 
 
 Surgeon — "On the field. You saved him. He is. 
 unhurt." 
 
 Adam — "It's all square, then — doctor, is it all over 
 wi' me?" 
 
 Surgeon — "You are a brave fellow. Take some of 
 this cordial, it will keep up your strength. (Adam 
 (h'Jnks from Hask.) I will do what I can for you." 
 
 Adam — "I know — I know what you mean, doctor — 
 I ha' got to die." 
 
 Jack and Dinah advance. Adam looks at Dinah 
 hetvilderedly. 
 
 Adam— "Dinah. Is it you? Is it Dinah Morris?" 
 Dinah — "Yea, Adam, it is Dinah. (Dinah kneels 
 
 on one knee and holds Adam in her arms.) Lean on' 
 
 me. There, rest on my shoulder." 
 
 Surgeon and Jack retire up stage. 
 
I08 ADAM BEDE. 
 
 Adam — "I ha' longed to see you, Dinah." 
 
 Dinah — "Thank thee, Adam. And it hghtens my 
 heart to see thee, and to hear of the noble deed you 
 have done to-day." 
 
 Adam — "Ah, Dinah, I ha' done no noble deed." 
 
 Dinah — "Nay, Adam, but it is noble to lay down 
 thy life for one who has injured thee." 
 
 Adam — "But you don't know all — I ha' been a 
 wicked sinner." 
 
 Dinah — "Adam, be comforted." 
 
 Adam — "No, no, I mun tell you. You mun hear me 
 — I came to India to follow him." 
 
 Dinah — "I know, Adam." 
 
 Adam — "I would ha' followed him to th' ends o' th' 
 earth. — Though I couldna get in his company I enlisted 
 in the same regiment; an' sin' then I've waited, days, 
 wrecks, for the chance to kill him." 
 
 Dinah — "O, Adam, that sin thou hast atoned f(^r." 
 
 Adam — "If it hadna been for th' disgrace to mother 
 an' Seth, I would ha' killed him in England. But I 
 didna want to make it worse for them, an' I thought in 
 a battle nobody would know how he was shot. Dinah, 
 I was mad to murder him." 
 
 Dinah — "Don't, don't speak about it now." 
 
 Adam — "Last night when I heard we was goin' into 
 battle I was happy — for the first time sin' so long ago. 
 I could hardly wait for th' break o' day. I was all fever- 
 ish an' afraid as somethin' might happen to me so as I'd 
 miss my chance. I kep' sayin' to myself. To-morrow, 
 to-morrow , O, God, let me ha' all my senses until to- 
 morrow. Let me live just one day more. — Toward 
 mornin' I fell asleep — I dreamed o' home, o' you, 
 Dinah, an' you was bendin' over me just as you are 
 now, your face lookin' so lovin' an' sorrowful." 
 
 Dinah — "I was praying for thee, then. It was 
 shown to me that thou must wrestle as Jacob wrestled, 
 and I prayed for thee as I had never prayed for any 
 'One before." 
 
 Adam — "When I woke up it was mornin' an' time 
 
ADAM BEDE. IO9 
 
 to march. As we fell in I could hear you say in' just 
 as plain, Adam, for my sake, for your own sake, forgi'e 
 him. But I answered. No, no, he shall be punished. 
 I ha' th' right to kill him. — We went into battle. 
 I \vatched him. I came closer an' closer. I 
 took aim. Dinah, you mun ha' been prayin' then, for I 
 heard a voice that would be answered say to me. Who 
 are you? Ha' you never done wrong? What right 
 ha' you to take this man's life ? I dropped my gun an' 
 stood pantin' as if I'd been runnin' an' was out of 
 breath. Somethin' held me back ; I tried, but I couldna 
 lift the gun. Just then I saw the rapiain was fightin' 
 alone wi' two tall men. He was gettin' th' better o' 
 them till more came up. They were shoutin' an' wavin' 
 their crooked swords an' I knew it meant death to go in 
 between 'em, but I didna think o' that. I forgot every- 
 thin', everythin', Dinah, but T mun save th" captain's 
 life. An' I ha' saved his life, an' it's all over wi' me. — 
 But I forgi'e him, Dinah, I forgi'e him, an' I ha' no 
 more hard feelin's toward him." 
 
 Dinah — "O, God ! Thou hast saved this precious 
 soul alive. Adam, thy words have brought great peace 
 to me." 
 
 Adam — "You think so much o' me as that?" 
 
 Dinah — ''Aye, Adam, not a day or a night has 
 passed since I knew what was in thy heart but I prayed 
 that God's mercy would be revealed to thee." 
 
 Adam — "Thy prayers ha' been ansAvered. It ha' 
 been revealed to me. But can full pardon be shown to 
 such a sinner as I ha' been?" 
 
 Dinah — '*Aye, Adam, trust Him. His love is un- 
 failing. His mercy everlasting." 
 
 Adam — "I do trust Him. I'm not long now for this 
 world, Dinah. Before I go, you'll let me say what's 
 in my heart?" 
 
 Dinah — "Yea, Adam." 
 
 Adam — "You ha' filled my mind o' late, an' I ha' 
 grown to see what a blessed woman you ha' been to me. 
 If I had seen things as I ought to ha' seen them, I 
 
no ADAM BEDE. 
 
 should ha' known before, it was you I loved as a man 
 should love the woman he would make his wife. I 
 love you wi' my whole heart. If I could ha' lived 
 would you ha' been my wife ? Do you feel you could, 
 Dinah ?" 
 
 Dinah— "Yea, Adam." 
 
 Adam — "You love me?" 
 
 Dinah — "Yea, I love thee. My heart waits on thy 
 words and looks as a little child waits on its mother's 
 tenderness." 
 
 Adam — "Dinah!" (kisses her) 
 
 Dinah (sobs) — "It is too late! too late." 
 
 Adam — "Nay, not too late. For we shall meet i' th' 
 green fields o' heaven where there is no pain an' where 
 th' shadow o' parting never comes." 
 
 Dinah — "Yea, I was forgetting. There we shall 
 abide forever and forever." 
 
 Adam — "But until you come the time o' waitin' will 
 be long to me." 
 
 Dinah — "Nay, it will seem long only to me. For 
 it will be no more than a day in heavenly mansions." 
 
 Adam — "The thought o' you goes wi' me there — 
 I'm dying fast — Do not grieve — I know that my Re- 
 deemer liveth — I ha' repented — Though your sins be 
 as scarlet they shall be as white as snow, (calls) 
 Dinah !" ' 
 
 Dinah (stroking his forehead and sobbing) — "I am 
 here." 
 
 Adam (after a second struggles to his feet delirious) 
 — Why, mother, (in pantomime folds her to his 
 breast) Seth, lad, you're surprised to see me home 
 again? An' here's Dinah, too." 
 
 Dinah — "The God of love and peace be with him." 
 
 Adam — "Yea, Dinah's wi' me — th' best woman i' th' 
 world. Th' comfort o' us all. It's good to be home 
 again. Thee'st looking rare and hearty, mother. Flow 
 green th' fields are i' Hayslope, an' how fresh th' 
 flowers smell. Seth, lad, is there plenty o' buildin' to 
 be done i' th' village? We mun set to work wi' a will 
 
ADAM BEDE. Ill 
 
 Tlow the war is over. There'll be no more fightin' — 
 Peace ha' come — yea — peace ha' come, {recovers con- 
 sciousness) Dinah !" (staggers, sinks back supported 
 by Surgeon Maltby and Dinah.) 
 Dinah — "Adam! Adam!" 
 
 Booming of cannon. 
 Curtain. 
 
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