PR 4779 .H7 S8 Copy 1 EEN-ROOM EDITION OF COPYRIGHTED PLAYS SUMMER MOTHS A Play in Four Acts WILLIAM HEINEMANN fmm THE DE WITT PUBLISHING HOUSE NEW YORK SUMMER MOTHS A PLAY IN FOUR ACTS WILLIAM HEINEMANN AUTHOR OF "THE FIRST STEP," " A DRAMATIC MOMENT " BUSniNG?^ NEW YORK THE DE WITT PUBLISHING HOUSE 1898 *>- 1^^^ ^C.\-K2> 6S .Vt1 2V33 Copyright, i8s>3, BY WILLIAM HEINEMANN r/te acting rights of this play have been protected and are reserved r^ THE PERSONS OF THE PLAY GENERAL SIR ROWLAND ST. GEORGE, K. C. B., aged 54 PHILIP, his son, aged 25 MRS. GROVER W. WATSON, aged 50 ) >• Americans MAUD, her daughter, aged 20 ) FLORENCE BENTLEY, lady-housekeeper and companion. aged 27 KATE, parlour-maid, aged 26 THE SCENE OF THE PLAY represejtis an old-fashioned panelled drawing- room in a country house, with French windows at the back leading to a terrace and park beyojtd ; a door down stage, right, leading into the hall ; and one dozvn stage, left, leading into an adjoining room. Next to the fireplace {left), there is a grand piano. The room is elegantly furnished, and is full of flowers and orfiaments. The panels are filled with port aits of military persofiages in historical uniforms. THE SEASON: August, 189- THE TIME The First Act takes place after Breakfast, The Second Act, at Tea-time, The Third Act, some time after Dinner, The Fourth Act, oti the following morning. THE FIRST ACT SUMMER MOTHS. Bright sunshine is streaming in through the ivindoiv. PHILIP sits in an armchair, reading the " Sports- man.'' kate enters, carrying a tray ivith a number of empty flower vases, which she places on a table close to philip. Kate is engaged in pour- ing water into these and t^nes to attract attention o/ PHILIP, u'ho reads determinedly. She upsets purposely a vase at his elbow and the water runs off the table on to him. KATE I beg your pardon, sir. PHILIP How clumsy you're getting! [He tries to settle himself again to read. KATE Oh, Phil ! PHILIP Confound it all, Kate! I will not allow you to be so familiar. Remember, once and for all, that / ana master and you are maid. KATE I beg pardon. Master Phil. It seems so difficult, almost impossible to get accustomed to that again. What have I done? Why have you changed? PHILIP I have not changed. It's all your fancy. But for your sake more than for mine these familiarities must stop. If we are found out, it's you who are ruined — not I. KATE Yes, but, Phil, my darling — I beg your pardon- Master Phil — could you not take a little, ever so little, notice of me when we are alone? You used to kiss me and hug me whenever there was a ghost of a chance. You would not let me go even when I felt sure that we must be seen. And now it is four months since you kissed me last and you try to avoid being alone with me. PHILIP And when we are alone, what then ? Once and for all, I won't have these scenes. Whenever I try to be 4 quiet, to read, or think, or rest, you thrust yourself into the room and pester me. KATE Oh, Phil! Don't say that. PHILIP When it's nothing else, it's the brat— confound it ! KATE No, Phil, I never talk to you of baby, except when I can't help myself. PHILIP You forget that it took all my cleverness to prevent the whole thing being found out, and I should like to know what would have happened to you if it had been discovered. You would have been turned into the street— mother and child, bag and baggage. KATE I know you have been kind to me— you used to be. PHILIP I have always given you money— all I could spare out of my miserable allowance. So what more do you want? KATE But, Phil, it is your child as much as mine. I know 5 youVe always been generous to me, but I want you not to hate me now — not to hate that poor innocent child. PHILIP Well, I'm not going to gush over it. It's hard lines on a chap, if he has the bad luck to become the father of a child like that, quite apart from the money it's bound to cost him. KATE I know, I know. You must feel disgusted; you're bound to be. But it isn't baby's fault! Oli, Phil, Fhil— [Coming up to him and trying to earless him. He repulses her] — I do wish you would just once look in at Mrs. Jackson's when you're down in the village and see the darling for yourself. She is the loveliest little angel in the world — the very image of you — such eyes and such a sweet little mouth, and the tini- est little hands and feet you ever saw. Sometimes I have felt as if I could not keep my secret, I was that proud of baby. Often I have wanted to bring her up to the house and say to master, " That is your grand- child; are you not proud of it? " PHILIP And I'd like to see the old man ! Gad, I would ! You'd find yourself in queer street after that, I can promise you. 6 KATE Do me this one favour — go and see baby once, just once. Promise me you will. She's fourteen months old now, and has never seen her father. PHILIP I shall do nothing" of the sort. The child's a nui- sance—a blasted nuisance. KATE If you only once saw baby, you'd think so different — you could not help yourself. Oh, Phil, she is simply lovely. And perhaps you'd be kinder to me again, just for your child's sake. PHILIP I've had enough of this now — do you hear that, Kate? You are never to speak to me again of this confounded affair. On the first of every month I shall put your money on my mantelpiece, on the un- derstanding that you don't bother me. The moment you do, I shall stop the money, and you and your brat can starve for all I care. KATE Phil, don't say that. You don't— can't mean it. PHILIP I advise you also, very strongly, to be careful about 7 yourself, what you do and what you say, almost what you think. If there is a suspicion anywhere of what took place last summer, when they were all away and only you and I in the house, you'll get the sack as sure as poison . [kate drops a vase. ] Clumsy, careless fool ! I wash my hands of you. I've done with you ! KATE [In tears.] Oh, you don't mean that, Phil— you don't, I know you don't — I could never live away from you ; and you promised — you know you prom- ised — and I am no more of a nuisance than I can help being. But I do love you, Phil, and I get mad when I see your goings on with— with that Miss Florence. There, I had to say it! PHILIP How dare you drag in Miss Bentley's name? I'll have you turned out of the house if you ever repeat that impertinence. KATE You're in love with her. I can see it, and that's why you hate me now PHILIP Out of my sight— before I forget myself. 8 KATE Ah, well ! ah, well ! I was foolish — I was foolish. [Collects the pieces of the broken vase and wipes up the water. Exit, philip, with a sigh of reliefs settles again to read his paper; he gets up nervously, lights a cigar- ette, and ivalks up and down the room. Enter from garden Florence, almost blind, feel- ing her way. She carries a basket of flowers, ayid tries to arrange them in the empty vases on tables, PHILIP helping her. In every movement, and particularly in the handling and selection of flowers, she displays her inability to perform the task she is engaged upon. FLORENCE Is that you, Phil ? PHILIP Yes, dearest. [He goes up to her and kisses her. FLORENCE Oh, Phil ! I am in such a state of excitement to- day. How shall I ever bear up under it all ? Now that your father is really coming home all seems so distant, so unheard-of, so impossible; and yet it must be. PHILIP And indeed it shall be. FLORENCE You know, Phil, I am almost frightened at all that you are giving me, when I think of how little I can offer you in return. This dreadful affliction makes me daily more useless and hopeless. Where should I be to-day, and where would my brothers and sisters and mother be, if you had not asked me to marry you, and insisted that that involved your becoming everybody's Providence. We should be penniless, all of us — penniless — starving, perhaps. It is dread- ful to think of — how dependent I must be on you always — always ! PHILIP Never think of that, dear, never! Why should you want to work, anyhow? Work, indeed, for one like you, who are fit to be the Princess in a fairy tale — who are, in fact, the one particular Princess in my particular fairly tale. FLORENCE Oh, Phil! you are altogether too good, too kind to me. I only wish I knew how I could ever repay you. lo PHILIP Well, well, you'll repay me for all this monstrous, unheard-of goodness by remaining always and for ever just as you are. FLORENCE That's the worst of it. How can I hope always to please you? I shall become older and much uglier even than I am now. PPIILIP You ugly! You'll always be lovely— exquisitely^ lovely always ! [Kisses her. FLORENCE I can't make out what you see in me, Phil. And I don't know why you love me — why [^t'ith a little shake in her voice] you respect me still. PHILIP I love you, dearest, because I can't help it— because it is you, because you are the bonniest girl in all the world. FLORENCE But can you still respect me, Phil? Can you? Men don't respect PHILIP Stuff and nonsense! We were young and loved one another, and naturally we were not made of stone. Now youVe to be my wife what does it, what can it matter ? No one will ever know. FLORENCE But you know and I know. Are you sure that you will never remember — never let me remember? PHILIP I'll clean forget anything and everything, only you must not look upon things so seriously, dear. FLORENCE But it is serious, very, very serious— fatally serious. PHILIP After all, it was all my fault. I persuaded you that you were getting every day less fit for your work and every day more fit to be my sweetheart, that you must give up the drudgery of it all, and be satisfied with loving and being loved. FLORENCE Oh, don't, dear, don't ! To imagine that you could have ever put such a thought in my head ! No, no, you must never think of it in that way. You must not for a moment — not now, and never, never in the future — fancy there was anything else in my mind than my love for you. If you did, or if you ever were to convince me that there was another motive, that thought would be terrible. It would kill our love. PHILIP My dear girl, you misunderstand me; you really do take things too tragically. I never thought of alluding to the pleasure it might afford you to be- come your people's fairly godmother. It never even occurred to me. No, Flo, indeed I know you loved me then as you love me now, and that in becoming what you have become to me you were giving me your whole heart and soul, with no other thought or impulse. FLORENCE I do love you, Phil, with all my heart. I am so happy when I hear you say that you love me, so happy. But suppose the General from a common- sense point of view thinks that I have schemed to win you. I am blind, or as good as blind. I suppose I should anyhow have to give up my occupation soon — because I am unfit really to be of use to any one. He might imagine I had thought of providing for my- self and for mother and the others, and that I did not love you quite — quite disinterestedly. 13 PHILIP No, no. Give the devil his due. The governor is not suspicious, and always gives one credit for the best of motives. FLORENCE I know — who better?— how generous and noble he is. But that's why it all seems the more strange — the more improbable. PHILIP It does seem rum, doesn't it, Flo, that you and your people and the governor and I — that we all shall soon be one big family? I wonder whether the governor will want them all to come and live here? FLORENCE Don't talk of such things. I'm dreading what the General may say, even to our engagement. I dare not think further. I feel such a mean, false wretch! He trusts and believes in me, however uneasy he may be about his scamp of a boy, who year by year gets himself into one mess or another! PHILIP That's all passed and over now, thank God ! FLORENCE I know, I know. Still, I was left behind on pur- 14 pose to look after you ; you must admit that. Your father made up his mind that he must travel either in my charming society and under my anxious care, but with a constant dread of some unheard-of scrape you were sure to have got yourself into PHILIP My usual summer scrape. Ha, ha ! FLORENCE ' Or — so as to have his disorderly offspring kept in bounds — he must go alone with his valet and with no gentle hand to tend him, no one to talk to and be amused by, unless it be some chance acquaintance of the road. PHILIP Well, considering what he writes about those Yankee women, he seems to have got on all right without you, and I have got on exceedingly well with you. Have I not? FLORENCE That's the trouble of it. You've got on much too well with me. And now that I'm to face the General I realise how very wrong I've done. And it's not only that : I am here to read to him when he returns, and I could barely make out mother's letter last night. I am here to see after the maids and the cook and the gg,rdener and the rest of them, and I 15 am unable to see whether the floors are swept, the windows cleaned, the pots and pans scrubbed bright; I don't know what flowers the gardener is growing, except that I see the distant colour effect; in fact, I am not only a faithless, but even a useless person, a person who is unfit to fulfil her duty, and who, indeed, has not hesitated to betray her sacred trust. ^ [FLORENCE wipes her eyes. PHILIP If you regard me in the light of your trust, my lady of tears, I am not sure that the governor has not every reason to be satisfied. You have certainly kept me out of mischief and made me want to do the very thing he has been preaching and imploring me to do— to settle down and to marry. FLORENCE It's the wife — your choice — he'll find fault with this time. I wonder if he'll think you look improved since he saw you last? The worst of it is that I can't see you even, my beautiful boy, as clearly as I wish to. PHILIP You don't lose much. I am, after all, only an ordinary man. Fancy if I were blind and could not see you ! That would, indeed, be the irony of fate, i6 because you are the prettiest, daintiest little soul in all creation, FLORENCE I wish I could believe you when you say that. Sometimes I am afraid that possibly I may not dress myself as nicely and tidily as I ought to do — that everything about me must betray my blindness. PHILIP StuflP and nonsense ! you as neat and natty as FLORENCE [Putting her hand on his mouth.] Sh ! I'll have no more flattery. If you are satisfied nothing" else matters. But how about the General? Do I look fit and suitable to become his daughter? Ha! ha! It makes me laugh. I, his daughter — I, a would-be interloper into liis family — I, who am really nothing else than a servant, a useless servant at that, and as blind, as blind as a moth. It is too curious, this blindness of mine. I can see every little detail of that picture over there and I can only see you quite dimly. PHILIP You are simply what they call long-sighted. Others are short-sighted— most people, in fact— one way or another. 17 FLORENCE It seems so odd that when I touch you I can barely see you, and Avhen I see you at all clearly, I am much too far away from you to touch you. Let me see: just stand where you are. [philip is close to the door near the footlights. Florence ivalks back- wards up stage.] So, now I see you clearer and clearer and clearer. [At the wiiidoic] There, now you are loveljM Oh, Phil ! you are lovely. PHILIP Don't be so ridiculous, you'll make me vain. FLORENCE No, don't move. [Coming doini stage slowly.] Dimmer and dimmer and dimmer and— and dimmer. But now I feel you, now I hold you, now I love you ! [Kissing him ivith rapture.] Oh, Phil! Are you sure that my blindness will never make you im- patient with me and never make you love me less. You know it will be very trying for you if I really do get quite blind. PHILIP But you w^on't— you shall not. What's the good of doctors if they can't cure so simple a thing as that? We'll go to Wiesbaden on our honeymoon and get Pagenstecher to put your eyes right. They say he can cure any sort of blindness — as long as there are i8 eyes left to cure. He'll have no difficulty with these deep blue lakes of wisdom. [He kisses her eyes. FLORENCE Don't, don't call my eyes lakes. Lakes are full of water, and that means tears. PHILIP There shall never be tears in your dear, lovely eyes, if I can help it. I only wish I could snap my fingers at tlie old man, but I have no money and the old boy will have to stump up. FLORENCE And suppose he doesn't! Oh, Phil! I will never regret if you will only never cease loving me. But we've been mad and rash ! PHILIP Nonsense! All will be well and you will be my own little wife; just you leave the governor to me. He is as fond of you as of anybody, and after all, your father was a soldier like himself; your people have always been soldier-folk the same as ours. FLORENCE But what a difference ! You forget that my father was only a common sergeant, that my people are not gentlefolk, that your father took me away from them 19 and brouglit me up so that I could never be liappy and satisfied again in the sphere of my birth. PHILIP That's the very best reason for fixing yourself irrevocably where you are. Even if your father was not a gentleman he must have been a very fine fellow. And he would have brought you up as a lady, if he'd lived. FLORENCE He could not have afforded to do so— any more than mother could. PHILIP It is not your fault that your father was unable to provide for all of you. FLORENCE But it was in our greatest need that your father befriended us. It's that — my vile ingratitude — that makes me ashamed of myself. He always thought you should make a rich and splendid marriage. He will say you are throwing yourself away. PHILIP Oh ! he may be a little huffy at first, or surprised, but he will come round all right. On the other hand, he may take it as nice as can be. You never know what he will say. I bet level money he puts 20 liis glass in his eye, like this, and says solemnly, "Bless you, my children, bless you ! " But we shall see: he'll be here directly almost, if he really comes by this train. FLORENCE How shall I receive him? Will you tell him at once? PHILIP Yes, if you like; or no, perhaps we had better break it to him gently. Let him sleep here quietly the first night, and we'll tackle him in the morning after breakfast — that's the best time to get anything out of him. It is not only our marriage, you know. I may as well make a clean breast of it in once. There are my debts which he will have to settle first of all. I've had a deuced lot of heavy expenses this last year— unexpected expenses, and he'll just have to pay up and look happy. FLORENCE You are so reckless in money matters ; that's the trouble. Why, this brooch you gave me and this ring — they alone must have cost a great deal of money. You are so generous, Philip, much too generous. PHILIP That's quite impossible— even if I get into debt ever so deep — in giving you a pleasure. Oh ! it's not those few trumpery presents— it's not that. FLORENCE You will have to mend your ways, make no more debts, and settle down — down. PHILIP [Laughing.'] You are the governor all over; that's just what he'll say. Ah, well ! I suppose I am a bit of a bad lot. I'll bet you the first thing he asks you is what I have been up to : will want to know the worst about my summer scrape. As he can't per- suade me to become a soldier, I ought at least to look after the farm— that beastly Lower Farm — when he is away. Why, the place is not fit for a decent tenant. You can't grow a thing there to pay you. He might just as well have put two or three of the old pensioners on it, free of rent, instead of building them cottages all over the place. FLORENCE He would never do that. He is much too solicitous about their comforts. PHILII' People like that are accustomed to work like niggers, and they don't grumble if the quantity or quality of their rations varies from tirne to time, as is sure to happen on that farm. However, I've done my little best even there. This time I've been a very very good hardworking boy, I'm sure I have; and he's a curmudgeon if he doesn't say so. FLORENCE [Laughing.] I am not at all sure that he will say so. But there, we'll see. [Kissing him again.] Anyhow, you've been an angel to me. [The sound of carriage wheels on gravel is heard.] There's the carriage ! [She tears herself away from him and tries to arrange her dress, distancing herself from the mirror and looking into it from far off. PHILIP has gone out and left the door lead- ing to the hall open. PHILIP [Outside.] Hallo, governor, you do look well ! GENERAL [Outside.] Phil, my boy, I am glad to see you. John, you'll have to put the other horses in the carriage and drive down to meet tlie one o'clock train. No, no, let me see : send the 'bus down. There'll be luggage— lots of luggage— heavy lug- gage—infernally heavy. PHILIP [Outside still] Why, bless my soul, governor! What have you brought home? It sounds as if you had bought up half the Continent. GENERAL [Entering with PHIL.] Not mine, my boy. Ladies coming— two charming ladies. PHILIP I say, governor, that sounds a bit thick: comes of letting you travel about alone. GENERAL You young rascal ! No, no I I'll tell you all about it. [Seeing Florence.] Well, Flo, my dear, how are you? Fact is, looking better than ever. FLORENCE I am very well, sir, very well. I hope you are well— that the baths have quite set you up again. GENERAL Indeed, they have. Fact is, I feel my old self again— ten years younger — and as strong as I was before the war. FLORENCE I am so glad, General. You know, I have been 24 ever so nervous. After all, this was the first time you had been away quite alone. GENERAL I know; without my strict task-master, Florence Bentley. FLORENCE I was no stricter than I had to be. You see, you never would do what the doctors ordered you to do. I could hardly make you take your medicine, and, to tell the truth, I am not sure even to-day that you really took all the baths you were supposed to have taken last year. GENERAL Ah, well! never mind about that now, my child. Fact is, I did not do all that the doctors wanted me to do this year either. But nature helped and cured me, and here I am as fit as a fiddle, and what's more, fit for work. FLORENCE Work ! But you don't think of going back to the army again, surely? PHILIP Take up command again ? .='5 GENERAL I am determined to offer my services again to her Majesty. God bless her ! Fact is, as long as a soldier is able, it is his duty and his privilege to wear her colours. PHILIP Now, if I were you, governor, I would settle down and lead the life of a country gentleman instead of GENERAL And be a lazy good-for-nothing like you ! Ah, my boy, I don't mean it unkindly, you know I don't. I'm glad you're enjoying your youth. Fact is, a busy life suits me — a busy life. See there, that's your grandfather ; that's your uncle, Phil [jjointing to the pictures on the ivalls], after whom you were named; that's your great-grandfather. We have always been the king's warriors, and I wish you, my boy, were more a chip of the old block. However, we can't be all alike, and I only hope your idle habits will never lead you into serious mischief — into disgrace. Fact is, such ancestors as yours, my boy, have a posthu- mous claim to respect. [To Florence.] And how has he behaved himself under your care, my girl, in my absence ? 26. FLORENCE He has been quite— quite exemplary. Have you not, Phil ? PHILIP If only I liave satisfied you, that's enough for the governor, is it not ? GENERAL Fact is, I don't suppose he would tell you if he had been up to any of his old tricks, the young scamp. But I am glad, very glad, there has been nothing to scandalise you and the neighbours. PHILIP Oh, there has been no scandal, governor : not a suspicion of a scandal this year. I have barely been out of the house. GENERAL That's right, my boy. Domesticity is a fine thing. No man goes far wrong if he is really fond of his home. PHILIP You see it was very different in the house this year from what it generally has been when you were away in the summer. Flo made all the difference — made a 27 fellow comfortable ; whereas, when I was left alone with nothing but slaveys GENERAL I know, my bo3^ Fact is, we are both grateful to Flo for that and many other gentle acts and thoughts which have made our lives much happier than they could ever have been without her. FLORENCE Oh, General ! It's I who owe you everything. GENERAL Bosh, little woman! Fact is, you are a little brick — a little brick. How are your eyes, dear ? Better? I was distressed with what Phil wrote. FLORENCE I fear I am getting blinder and blinder, and soon shall be of no use to any one. GENERAL I hope it's not as bad as that, my child. I should miss our Half-hours with Great Minds, with you as the dispenser of other people's wisdom. FLORENCE I shall have to make place for some one with eyes that can see. I shall have to resign my post of teacher and preacher, and be— — 28 GENERAL Our good angel. I am very fond of you, my child. You are the daughter of a brave and valiant soldier, and I am happy to recognise in you that same unbend- ing sense of duty and honour that made your father the pride of his regiment. FLORENCE It was his good fortune that he served under a noble and generous superior. It was our good for- tune that you befriended his widow and orphans when he fell for his country. GENERAL Oh, I just did what I had to do. As for your not being able to read, it won't matter much during the next few days. You remember, Phil, my writing to you about Mrs. Grover W. Watson and her daughter. Miss Maud Watson. Fact is, they are on their way here. They are the owners of those unsealed moun- tains of luggage. They are coming by the one o'clock train, that is to say, if our ordinary local train is equal to their luggage. We travelled together from Aix, and they certainly were kindness itself. When we got to London I found them friendless. The few people they knew were out of town — natural enough in August. Fact is, they are so proud of their home and praised its beauties and attractions so con- stantly that I felt quite ashamed of poor, dusty, tired, 29 deserted London. I insisted on showing them our English country life, to counteract the depressing effect of the West End just now, with all its pave- ments up and all its blinds down. Fact is, I was afraid they might think it representative of English life in general. So I had to insist on their coming here. FLORENCE If they are to come so soon, I shall have to make arrangements immediately. [As she moves towards the door, kate enters. KATE I beg your pardon, sir, John says the 'bus is out of repair. GENERAL And the landau won't do, that's quite certain. Confound it ! I must send something ! Fact is, they have more boxes and trunks than I have ever seen together in all my life. Why do Americans travel as if they were never going home again? Phil, you go and see if you can manage it. Bring them up and their luggage somehow. You will easily recognise them. PHILIP I don't suppose there'll be many people. I shall 30 recognise them all right in the dazzling light of your glowing description of them. GENERAL ^ You'll find it none too glowing. Go, my boy. Take a cart with the landau. Only you must lose no time. Mrs. Watson has beautiful white hair and a fine military profile. Reminds you of the Duke of Wellington. PHILIP Right, governor. I'll see to it. I'll bring them up by hook or crook. If necessaiy, I'll borrow two or three of the gipsy vans from the Lower Farm and we'll come up like a wandering circus. Ta, ta ! [Exit. GENERAL What a boy! Hum, hum! And the pensioners, how are they, my dear? FLORENCE As well as can be, all of them. Jarvis is getting very shaky on his legs, but he's well enough, con- sidering his age and all he went through after the war, before he came here. GENERAL He was a wild chap in his days. He is not so old as you would think. He has aged rapidly. It's his bullets, I suppose. Fact is, I should not like to say 31 how many he's got lodged in his body somewhere or other. FLORENCE They have been getting up the usual sort of wel- come for you. GENERAL That's the worst of it. I suppose I shall have to submit to it all after dinner to-night ? No, by the way, if those ladies are here, tell them to come to- morrow morning instead. FLORENCE I'll tell them to postpone it. GENERAL They might have their whisky to-night. FLORENCE They'd hardly trust themselves to be fit for the welcome to-morrow, poor old things, after that. GENERAL Ah well, just let them have it whenever they like, and if they forget all about the welcome over their grog, I'll forgive them and be glad. 32 FLORENCE Oh, no, General. Be candid! It pleases you to see the happmess and gratitude of these old people, who owe a comfortable old age to your generosity. You'd miss their welcome on your return, if they stayed away. It's touching and beautiful, their feel- ing for you. You should hear them talk of you, when you commanded them, of your brilliant deeds in battle, and the time when they picked you up for dead in Egypt. GENERAL Fact is, they are good chaps, always were. FLORENCE I often wonder why other officers who have fortunes don't follow your example. Government medals are all very well, but to be given a home, as you have given them, and comfort for their shattered frames, that's a very different thing. GENERAL They were brave men and did their duty. I'm doing no more. Other officers have other views, You don't understand these things. Fact is, no other officer ever had such men under him, from your father down to the rawest recruit. And now about Phil. I do hope that boy has behaved himself dur- ing my absence. The thought of his summer scrape 33 lias been the only thing that has interfered with per- fect enjoyment for me in Aix. FLORENCE * You may be quite at ease, indeed. You have no idea how kind and good Phil has been: he has changed altogether; he is a different man, he takes life quite — quite seriously now — thinks of his respon- sibilities and has plans, such beautiful plans, for the future. You'll see— you'll see — when you talk with him alone he'll tell you all — how he is determined to deserve everybody's respect, to have the follies of the past forgotten. You'll be kind to him and try to do what he asks, won't you, General ? GENERAL Why, of course, my dear. I have no wish except for the boy's happiness. I am truly delighted to have such good reports from you, Flo. I only hope it is as you say, and that there is no abominable secret to come out— as there generally is when I re- turn. PXORENCE No, no — you may be sure. There is no secret that I don't know. GENERAL [Laughing.] You women are easily deceived in these matters; but I'll see, I'll soon discover if there 34 is anything wrong-. I'll haul him over the coals in the morning-, and I only hope it is as you say. Fact is, I am getting on in life, and he must be preparing himself for the responsibilities of his future position. If I could only get him to adopt a profession— to engage in a regular employment of his time. Also he must learn the value of money; he will have plenty to live on, but none to waste, and that is a thing which he has not so far grasped. FLORENCE I must leave you now, General, to arrange for re- ceiving the ladies. I suppose if I give them the Ivy and the Iris rooms they will be most comfortable there. GENERAL Could they not have rooms nearer yours in case they wanted anything ? You see, they are strangers to many of our ways and customs. FLORENCE I don't think I can manage to put them up any- where near my room. GENERAL Well, you know best. Only make them comfort- able, I know I can trust you to do that. Fact is, this Mrs. Watson is a very remarkable fine old gentle- 35 woman, and her daughter is a beautiful angel, the sort of girl you don't often come across nowadays. FLORENCE How old is she ? GENERAL I should say about twenty. But she has more spirit, more determination than an English girl of that age. Fact is, she would know how to handle a man and keep him in order. A chap, for instance, like Phil. Just the wife for Phil ! FLORENCE [Interrupting.] For Phil? GENERAL Yes, for Phil ! If only he is as you say. She is a good girl, as good as ever lived. When I first saw her, I said to myself. That's the wife for my boy, the very wife! Flo, dear, you must help me in this. See if you can influence Pliil: it's all for his good, you know. Phil has confidence in you and you have influence over him, the best sort of influence. Fact is, he looks upon you as a sister. FLORENCE But, Phil 36 GENERAL No " but," my dear! Phil has a way of resenting any advice I give him: looks upon it as a sort of command, an attempt to interfere with his independ- ence. You are different, and he'll be influenced by you. I want him to take up some serious occupa- tion. It maddens me to see him idling and loafing about. First of all he must get rid of his flightiness -must become steady. That's why I want him to marry— to marry the right sort of girl. Fact is, I am confident Miss Watson is the most suitable young lady I know to become Phil's wife. [FLORENCE, as if petrified, tries to collect her- self to answer— unable to do so, she bolts from the r^oom. Curtain. 37 THE SECOND ACT The trees of the park are illuminated with a warm afternoon gloiv. The GENERAL and philip. GENERAL The ladies are having a long rest after their lunch- eon, and yet they did not seen very tired. PHILIP Tired— no, indeed not! And as for talking— why, coming from the station they asked more silly ques- tions than I ever heard asked before. They know nothing about country life. Guess they were raised in a city elevator — as they would say. GENERAL I wish you would speak more decently of those ladies. Fact is, I consider them most charming and refined gentlewomen. PHILIP So do J, governor ; but they are absurdly American, 41 now are they not? That's to say, the old girl is — Miss Watson hasn't much of a twang. GENERAL Personally, I rather like what you call their "Yankee twang." It's a d sight more musical than the supercilious mouthing of the young asses who hang about the Eag, whenever I go there. PHILIP That's a matter of taste. I shouldn't call it musical exactly — at least, not the voice of the old girl. Miss Watson speaks nicely enough. Then perhaps she's musical, so that she knows how to modulate her voice and make even her twang sound all right. GENERAL Miss Watson sings divinely. Fact is, people in Aix went mad about her singing. She has one of the loveliest voices I have ever heard — and she sings with so much feeling, so much heart — she reminds me of your mother, Phil. PHILIP I wonder whether I shall agree with you about Miss Watson's singing? You are prejudiced alto- gether — clean gone on these two Houris from the other side of the herring pond. 42 GENERAL Confound you, Phil ! I won't allow you to talk of these ladies in such a way. PHILIP I beg your pardon, governor. Straight, I think Miss Watson is a downright ripper. But I can't help laughing to see how completely they've both of them walked away with you. GENERAL How did Flo like them? Did she say? PHILIP She said nothing to me. Poor dear, she can barely see how pretty Miss Watson is. GENERAL It's too awful to think of poor Flo's getting blind. A most difficult problem that for me to solve. What am I to do if that poor girl gets entirely incapacitated for her work? Fact is, I love lier almost as if she were my own child. Her father was only a sergeant, but he became almost a personal friend of mine in those many years of service. I have seen her grow up, from a delicate babe to the sweet and gentle young woman she is to-day — till sometimes I almost fancy she must be my own flesh and blood. 43 PHILIP You'll have to go on providing for her mother and the other children, anyhow, I suppose. GENERAL Indeed — and gladly— as far as I am able. As regards Flo, I shall pay her salary as if she were doing her work, and she'll have to find out by degrees that she is being supplanted. I can't bring myself to tell her. Fact is, I shall have to find some one else to assist her without actually superseding her — some one who can look after things as she used to do, and read to me— although, for the matter of reading, I fear I'll never be satisfied with any one else. PHILIP Ah, well, governor, as far as Flo is concerned, I have got to speak to you seriously. The fact is, father — it — well — father — GENERAL Speak out, my boy, what is it? PHILIP [Hesitating.] Oh, never mind. Perhaps I had better wait and have a real business talk with you. I have got an idea in my head about Flo. 44 GENERAL Well, what is it? You are most mysterious; why can't you tell me what it is? PHILIP Never mind now, governor. I'd rather leave it with a lot of other things to talk about to-morrow morning-, as we always do— talk about business- after breakfast. GENERAL You talk about business! What is coming over you? Fact is, I've never had much business talk with you in the past. However, I'm glad if there is to be a change. Flo has spoken to me of your hav- ing become more steady and serious. I am glad of it— I am delighted. Give me your hand, Phil. The next thing for you to do is to think of something to interest you— some worthy object in life— an occupa- tion—work—work of all things. PHILIP Well, I have er—er— thought of that— of work; but there is so much to see to on the place— looking after the horses, exercising them, all the bother of the farms— that beastly Lower Farm in particular. Then I am bound to keep up the hounds, for the sake of the people round here. They look to me for that. I don't see how I am to find time for much else. 45 GENERAL What you are in the habit of doing on the place can be done, should be done, by others — not by its future master ; and as for your sporting inclinations, which I've always encouraged, they are, when grati- fied, all very well as pastimes, but they must never interfere with your business in life. Fact is, I want you to conquer and to occupy a dignified position in the world, Phil. PHILIP Candidly, governor, I don't know whether that would suit me at all. GENERAL Suit you, my boy? You are made for it. We are all of us made for it — we St. Georges. Look at your ancestors — they have for generations served their sovereign, been rewarded by their sovereign, and have made a place for themselves, each successively in his surroundings, which was honoured and re- spected and remembered. If a soldier's life is really unpalatable to you, so much the worse for you. But then you must choose some other career which is at least worthy of you and the traditions of the St. Georges. Fact is, when Mrs. Watson asked me what profession my son had, I was ashamed to have to admit that he was an idler. 46 PHILIP Ah, well, Americans think of nothing but business and money-making. GENERAL And if they do, so much the better for them. At least they have in America no hopeless class of idlers. Fact is, they have built up one of the finest Common- wealths the world has known in a shorter number of years than any other nation has ever done. And why? Because they realise that labour is the clock- work of life and painstaking the mainspring that sets the wheels in motion. PHILIP I don't think Mrs. Watson looks as if she came from a stock of labourers. She is dainty and fastidi- ous-looking enough, and her daughter is more like a Dresden china shepherdess than a real one. GENERAL It is because American men work that their ladies can be as they are, so refined, so graceful, and so ex- cellently cared for. PHILIP I don't see that they are in any w^ay superior to English women — blessed if I do ! 47 GENERAL I never said they were. PHILIP I don't suppose all Americans are like these two. The old girl looks like Queen Elizabeth. As for Miss Watson— ah, well— Miss Watson, she's the sort of girl every man is bound to fall in love with. GENERAL And I should not be sorry to see you fall in love with her. Fact is, you'll not come across a nicer girl in a hurry— I can tell you that. PHILIP Oh, I might like her riglit enough. It would not take me long for that. But it's impossible. The fact is that I am going to marry somebody else. GENERAL Going to marry somebody else? What do you mean? PHILIP All I shall tell you to-day is that the lady of my choice is not an American. GENERAL Well, Phil, I hope she is a fit and suitable com- 48 panion for you. I must say, Phil, I am sorry you should have chosen before you had seen Miss Wat- son, because I think her a most desirable young lady for any man to marry; but if your happiness lies elsewhere, I shall certainly not advise you to think of her for another moment. Won't you tell me who the lady is? Do I know her? PHILIP No, no ! To-morrow morning we are going to have a long business talk — to-morrow morning — and then I will tell you all about her. Enter Florence. PHILIP [To her.] Flo, I have just told the governor that I am going to talk to him of serious business to-morrow morning. You know what it is, but don't you let it out. FLORENCE [ With a sign to philip. ] Wild horses shall not drag it from me. GENERAL You have conspired, you two young wretches. This is most unfair, Flo, I would not have thought it of you. 49 FLORENCE But, General, I have promised not to tell. PHILIP You shall know it all to-morrow morning". [FLORENCE looks at PHILIP awkwavdly as if to encourage him to speak. KATE enters with tea-things. Florence hears the clattering of cups and busies herself at once with them. She is blushing and she holds her side as if her heart were palpitating. GENERAL ^ Ah, well! I am not in a hurry. I can wait. To- morrow then, as you two have decided to give me a sleepless night. PHILIP Ha, ha! You won't have a sleepless night; you will dream sweetly of Mrs. Watson and her dangerous daughter. [Timiing to Florence.] Won't he, Flo? [Pause. FLORENCE is silent and embarrassed, makes a sigii to philip to induce him to say something. He tries to brace himself to do so, when 50 Enter MRfi. watson, an elderly, heautifully-preserved lady with white hair, delicate features, and aquiline yiose ; and her daughter Maud, tall, vivacious, fair, ivith her hair combed over her forehead and ears. Both exquisitely dressed in the latest Parisian fashion. GENERAL Ladies, I am delighted to see you again. I hope you have rested and feel refreshed after the journey. MRS. WATSON [ With an American acceiit.] Oh, my dear General, we have not rested one minute. We have just un- packed our steamer trunks and got out our gowns. That is what you men don't understand. GENERAL I know, I know. A woman travelling— don't I know? Ha, ha! Takes with her every rag she has to her back — every trinket she owns— carries about her Lares and Penates in the shape of a scent bottle and a powder puff, and plants them on the hotel man- tel with a sense of safety that no general ever felt behind the stoutest walls. MRS. WATSON You are severe on us, General. These tactics are new— unexpectedly assumed— they are not what you 51 have accustomed us to. Mr. St. George, your father has been a cavaUer of cavaliers — protecting unpro- tected females on the tramp. Without him we should have known little, seen little, enjoyed little while abroad. He was the incarnation of useful knowledge and of chivalrous attention. We account ourselves among the few who have really profited by our ex- periences among strange people. PHILIP Yes, the governor is great at explaining, isn't he? And then he knows the lingo, which is more than I do. [To MISS WATSON.] Can you speak foreign lan- guages, Miss Watson? MISS WATSON Oh, I know French, German, and Italian, just as every educated person knows them. PHILIP My education must have been pretty badly neg- lected. I suppose in your country they would not think much of a fellow who knows more about the points of a horse than about French verbs. MISS WATSON Oh, no, Mr. St. George, we think none the worse of a man for that. Why, so many of our men are of necessity bound to devote all their time to their work, or have to start in it so early in life, that they 52 never get an opportunity of really improving them- selves. Indeed, there are even idle gentlemen in America who are just as ignorant as you. PHILIP Now that's unfair, Miss Watson; after all, if one does not know all about one thing, perhaps one may know more about another. MISS WATSON [Laughing.] Exactly, so, Mr. St. George, and I shall like you none the less because you have wasted your school days. MRS. WATSON [To GENERAL.] Indeed, I'm not tired-not in the least. From London here-I don't call that a journey-two hours through such delicious scenery. It was quite a pleasure ride. MISS WATSON You don't know how we enjoy the English scenery even after the Alps and France. All the trees and hedges in their exquisite verdure-so fresh and refreshing. MRS. WATSON The drive up from the station was quite too lovely. What a quaint, old-fashioned village you've got! 53 Why, do you know people in America would travel half across the continent to see the old cross and the church and the Manor House. Your son was very kind in pointing out everything to us as we drove by. MISS WATSON I wonder if you would mind taking me down to the churchyard — not to-day — to-morrow, or some other day, Mr. St. George? I took a great fancy to the place, and should like to look over the graves carefully. Mother and I are very fond of decipher- ing the inscriptions in your old churchyards. They are so quaint and curious, and we have quite a collec- tion of the oddest bits of sentiment with which people have commended the souls of their relatives to the mercy of God. MRS. WATSON Yes, and I keep an eye on the names. You see, we Watsons have never been able to definitely estab- lish where we really come from. There are so many Watsons. There are the Watsons of Yorkshire, the Watsons of Sussex, the Scotch Watsons, and ever so many others ; then there are all the hyphenated Watsons. It really is most bewildering. However, I do not despair, and I shall yet find our real home. I suppose it seems odd to you that we should be so curious about our English origin. 54 GENERAL Not at all, my dear Mrs. Watson, not at all. We are so proud and happy to claim you as cousins. MRS. WATSON You are really very kind, General. You see, all our family documents were lost in a conflagration. MISS WATSON And it's a blessing they were, mamma! MRS. WATSON Why, child? MISS WATSON I mean that if we knew exactly where we come from, and all about our ancestors — well, like you, for instance, General— mother would lose half her in- terest in life. MRS. WATSON I suppose you have quite an ancient family tree, General St. George? GENERAL You shall see the document, my dear Mrs. Watson, It is in the library; but, first of all, you must have some tea. 55 MRS. WATSON No, thank you, General. We don't in America take tea in the afternoon. GENERAL But won't you do so here? Can't I persuade you to adopt, just for once, this very innocent habit of the old home? [He brings her tea, which sJie fakes under pro- test. They then stroll on the terrace, where the general is seen pointing out and describing the scenery. MISS WATSON I should like some tea, anyhow. FLORENCE "Will you help yourself, Miss Watson? I had no idea that afternoon tea was so entirely unknown with you. I think I should miss it. MISS WATSON Don't you believe mother. You see, she's old- fashioned, and sticks to it that five o'clock tea spoils her dinner, pretending to ignore that since its intro- duction the dinner-hour has become about two hours later than it used to be, and that you really want something to keep you up between one and eight. 56 We younger people, almost all of us, have afternoon tea, just as you do here. PHILIP [To MISS WATSON, ignoring Florence, icho covers her emotion hy a little imnecessary clattering of tea- things.] I wonder if you would care for a drive before dinner. Miss Watson? I can have a pony put into a cart in a minute, and I might take you round the place. You know there's lots to be seen still. You only just got an idea of it coming up this morning. MISS WATSON I should like a drive very much, only you must give up all hope of interesting me in your cattle and your cart-horses. I don't care a bit for them. I love the woods and the meadows, the fields and the hedges —and the singing-birds— I love them above every- thing. PHILIP Then I'll just go and have the pony put in. MISS WATSON But how about mother and the General. Oh, there they are on the terrace. PHILIP I'm afraid the cart won't hold so many. 57 MISS WATSON I don't think I can drive with you alone. PHILIP Surely you— an American MISS WATSON [To FLORENCE.] Perhaps Miss Bentley will come with us. FLORENCE Oh, thank you. I'm afraid I can't. I have some things to attend to in the house. But please don't let me stand in your way. I mean, can't you go alone? MISS WATSON [Appealing to mrs. watson, who is on the point of descending with the general from the terrace into the garden.^ I say, Ma, do you think I should go out driving alone with Mr. St. George? MRS. WATSON Why not? Of course, my dear. You won't upset her, Mr. St. George, will you, or let her come to any harm? PHILIP You may trust me with the whip, Mrs. Watson. Ask the governor. 58 GENERAL Yes, Mrs. Watson ; he's safe enough behind a horse. I only wish he were as safe in all circumstances. MRS. WATSON' Very well, then. Good-bye, dear, good-bye. Mr. St. George, I hope you'll enjoy yourselves. The General is going to show me the gardens. [Descends with general. PHILIP I'll go and have the pony put into the shafts. You might put your bonnet on meanwhile, Miss Watson. I'll be round at the front ^oor in five minutes, wait- ing for you in as dapper a little turn-out as you'll come across anywhere in this neighborhood. [Exit. MISS WATSON [To FLORENCE.] Oh, Miss Bentley, I am real glad to get five minutes with you alone. The General has told me so much about you, that I've been dying to know you. FLORENCE You are very kind. MISS WATSON Come, let us be frieuds. I like you— I feel that I like you very much, and I'm so sorry for you. 59 FLORE^XE Really, Miss Watson MISS WATSON I want us to be friends— good friends. FLORENCE Don't you think that is rather a matter of time and experience — a matter — I mean friendship — that you can hardly be sure about on the first day you meet? MISS WATSON Perhaps; but don't you believe in a sort of fi-ee- niasonry among unmarried girls? I do. We gener- ally feel as if there existed a natural bond of sympathy among us American girls. We stand up for one another and we try to help one another. FLORENCE But how could I possibly help you? MISS WATSON ' You never know. I've been of tremendous help to girls I hardly knew in our country, and girls whose chance acquaintance I have made have ren- dered me services too, which were of greater help than what most of my friends were ever able to do for me. 60 FLORENCE What sort of service do you mean? MISS WATSON All sorts of services. Generally, of course, with regard to men. FLORENCE I fear I would be worse than useless at that, I know so little about men. You see, I've lived here all my life. I hardly know any man except the General and Mr. St. George— at least, not well enough to give or even have an opinion. MISS WATSON "Well, now, just those two. I suppose General St. George is a very fine soldier— or at least was in his day? FLORENCE Yes; I've been told that but for him England would have lost many a battle that through him she won. MISS WATSON How splendid ! What a fine old man he is, to be sure! [Musing]. And Mr. St. George? 6i FLORENCE He is quite difPerent: he inherits none of the General's martial spirit; but he's a good, kind- hearted boy : he's very kind and so gentle and MISS WATSON Yes, I must say I did think him perfectly splendid the moment I saw him. I said to myself, "Now this is the sort of man a girl can't help admiring — the beau-ideal of manliness and strength and health ." FLORENCE Yes, indeed, he is all that. MISS WATSON I said to myself how lucky it was he lived in the country a wholesome, healthy life, away from the temptations of the world. I suppose he knows very little about women? FLORENCE I'm sure I don't know. Miss Watson. MISS WATSON Well, and what if he does down here? One knows the sort of girls he's likely to come into contact with here. I don't suppose country girls are very different in England from what they are in America. But tell me something about Mr. St. George. 62 FLORENCE Really, Miss Watson, I can tell you nothing that you cannot see for yourself. MISS WATSON But surely you must know what sort of love affau's he has had — whether he has ever been engaged to be married? FLORENCE Don't you think these questions had better be answered by Mr. St. George? MISS WATSON You show more feeling than I should have expected in this matter, Miss Bentley. I'm profoundly indif- ferent, of course, as to what Mr. St. George does or does not do. From what I heard about you I should certainly have expected more loyalty to your own sex than you seem to possess. After all, men are our com- mon enemy, and we should stand by one another, more particularly when there can be no question of rivalry. FLORENCE I fear it would be difficult for me to look upon men in the light of enemies. I am living under the roof of a man who has shown me more true and uncalled- for kindness than any member of my sex has ever 63 done, and if for no other reason, for that alone, I could trust him more entirely than I ever could any member of my sex. As for Phil — I mean Mr. St. George — I have been taught to look upon him — well, as a brother. I feel for him the same — perhaps a deeper— loyalty than many a girl does for her own brother. Forgive me, I mean no offence, but I really cannot discuss him with— a complete stranger. MISS WATSON Oh, well, my dear, don't distress yourself. It seems odd the way you talk of these people — as if you were one of them. I thought here you were— well, a sort of help. FLORENCE My father was a common soldier and I am proud of him for what he was. He fell in the service of his country — as glorious a death as man ever died. He was a common soldier and I should have been a com- mon servant but for General St. George, who gave me advantages which I was not entitled to. That is how I rose and became "a help." As such I know no other loyalty than my loyalty to him and his, which, by the way, reminds me that I have some orders to send into the village. You will excuse me. [She icrites, holding the paper far off and feeling her way on the sheet, miss watson looks out over the parlc, returns, sits doivn at the piano, strumming and humming. 64 Enter phiup, ivearing driving gloves, hut without hat. PHILIP Not ready yet? Why, I've been waiting at the front door these ten minutes, and the cob is getting* restless. MISS WATSON I think I'll not drive, Mr. St. George. Please for- give me. I would rather stroll with you about the grounds. You won't mind, will you? I really don't feel inclined for driving. PHILIP I'll do just whatever you like, Miss Watson; you have only got to command me. MISS WATSON I should like to go down to the lake, Mr. St. George. And you shall be polite and carry some bread for me to feed the swans. I'll go up and put on thicker shoes. These are too thin to walk on the grass in. I won't be a second. PHILIP As you like ; I'm quite at your disposal. [Exit MISS WATSON. 65 FLORENCE [ Under breath.] Oh, Phil ! Phil ! PHILIP What is it, dear? FLORENCE Oh, Phil, I am so unhappy ! Your father— they all Avaiit you to marry Miss Watson. PHILIP They can't make me do that — not the lot of them. FLORENCE But they are determined. She is so beautiful and so designing. PHILIP Little goose, don't be jealous. I must surely be polite to my father's guests. Be careful ! [He lights a cigarette and strolls towards the terrace.] Be careful ! [FLORENCE exit after ringing. KATE enters with tray to remove tea-thi7igs. She stands for a moment gazing at philip, w7io does not notice her. At the door she encounters miss WATSON. 66 MISS WATSON Mr. St. George. Have you seen Mr. St. George? Is he on the terrace ? KATE Mr. St. George ! I don't know, miss— yes, I mean he is on the balcony. PHILIP [Entering.] Ready to go? MISS WATSON Quite. PHILIP [To KATE.] Just get my straw hat, Kate, and bring Miss Watson some bread for the swans. Yes, and tell John I sliaivt want the cart after all. He can take the pony out again. KATE Ye-s-s, sir. [Exit ivith tray. PHILIP You know, Miss Watson, it has just occurred to me that I have only known two American girls in all my life. MISS WATSON Is that so? 67 PHILIP The first I knew— oh, never mind about tlie first. MISS WATSON This is very exciting. I want to know all about the first. PHILIP Never mind ! She is not worth bothering about. MISS WATSON I see ; and when you come across a third one you will say, never mind about the second— she is not ■worth bothering about. PHILIP Indeed, no. Miss Watson. Indeed, she wasn't like you. In fact, I never thought Americans were quite like you. MISS WATSON In what way do you mean? KATE enters, handing hat and paper hag to philip. Exit KATE. PHILIP Well, you see, the other one was such a wild, racketty sort of a girl, and I thought to myself if these American girls, that so many fellows go mad about, 68 are all like this~I thought English gh'ls were more my form. But you are altogether different. MISS WATSON [Laughing.] You English are really very funny. Because you come across one vulgar American, all Americans must be vulgar. Your conclusions are too naive for words, and I should not be surprised if you were convinced that we are really a semi- barbarous nation — thought we lived in wigwams on Fifth Avenue, and were convinced that we scalp foreigners as they land. PHILIP No, no, Miss Watson; don't misunderstand me purposely. You know what I mean. MISS WATSON Mr. St. George, I do not know what you mean. You have had an unfortunate experience with a vulgar American woman, and therefore do not hesitate to express surprise when you come across an American woman who is— well, not vulgar, not unpleasant, not an absolute dunce, and perhaps rather nice looking. Mr. St. George, I am conscious of a personal compliment; but I assure you it is wiped out in my patriotic mind through the slight I feel it implies to my countrywomen. I think I have a right to be indignant. Be careful — I am very, very patriotic. 69 PHILIP Indeed I meant no wrong. I am sorry. I beg your — I mean America's pardon. MISS WATSON Ah, well, then I forgive you. But you must never again think or say anything that is not entirely charming about American women — or in fact about anything American. PHILIP I promise. And let me hereby seal my vow. [Handing miss watson out on to the terrace, he tries to kiss her hand, which she withdraivs. FLORENCE eutcrs and sees philip bending over MISS watson's hand. She starts, makes a rapid step as if to follow, then stops; and as they disappear she goes up to the ivin- dow, followhig them with her eyes. She turns tvith a cry, comes down, sits motion- less with dilated terrified eyes for a minute, and then bursts into sobs, burying her face in her handkerchief. Curtain. 70 THE THIRD ACT The French window leading to the terrace is wide open and reveals a beautiful star-lit night. The GENERAL, MRS. WATSON, and FLORENCE. KATE [Comi7ig in from the terrace.^ Mr. St. George says he will be in directly, and that it is not damp. MRS. WATSON Miss Watson is with Mr. St. George? KATE Yes, mum, and if you'll forgive me, mum, I think it very dangerous for the young lady to be out there on the lake in her low-necked dress on a night like this. FLORENCE Really, Kate! MRS. WATSON [She stares for a moment at kate, tvho is con- fused— then turning to general.] That girl of mine 73 is really too trying! I only hope she won't catch cold. GENERAL Young people will be reckless. It's the worst of them. They'll be in directly, I suppose. However, perhaps I'd better fetch them myself— that will be the shortest way. Kate, get my hat. FLORENCE [To KATE.] And his coat as well. [Exit KATE. GENERAL That young scamp of mine never thinks that women are more delicate tlian he is. Fact is, he can stand anything. Nothing ever hurts him. MRS. WATSON What a blessing it is to have such robust health. My girl is pretty sound, too. But I think they had better come in, and it is very kind of you to be will- ing to go out for them, General. KATE enters ivith the general's coat and hat. GENERAL I shall not want my coat, Kate, thank you. 74 FLORENCE You liad better put it on, General. It is cooler here at night than at Aix, you know. GENERAL Ah, well ! perhaps you are right. Anyhow I know it's useless to attempt opposition. Mrs. Watson, let me warn you of Miss Bentley. Fact is, she rules w ith an iron hand, and brooks no opposition. MRS. WATSON Miss Bentley is very wise. Men should always be ruled with determination. [Ejcit general. Won't you come over here, my dear, and sit by me? I should like to have a chat with you. [FLORENCE moves over. MRS. WATSON [Continuing.^ I want to tell you that I appreciate very highly your devotion to our dear friend the General. He says there is no one like you in the world. FLORENCE The General thinks much, much too well of me. MRS. WATSON It is good to see men really appreciate a nice girl. They so rarely appreciate goodness and sterling qualities in women. 75 FLORENCE I think men are veiy generous. MRS. WATSON You don't know tliem as I do, my dear. Youth, spirits, and a pretty face, when those have gone men seldom think much of you. Beyond that there is only the affection of a parent that lasts, and really the General seems to look upon you almost as his daughter. FLORENCE This house has been my home ever since I was seven. MRS. WATSON Then you were practically brought up with j'oung Mr. St. George? I suppose he looks upon you in the light of a sister? FLORENCE Mr. St. George cares for me as much as any brother cares for his sister. MRS. WATSON Oh, really? FLORENCE You see, ours is a " Wahlverwandschaft " — a sort of ''elective affinity." 76 MRS. WATSON Then you would miss him very much, I suppose, if he left here. I mean went to live elsewhere. FLORENCE He will never do that. MRS. WATSON Still, he might take up some occupation that forced him to be elsewhere. He is very young-, is, I sup- pose, bound to do something — to take up a profession, or engage in some business. Besides, he might get married, and his w^ife might want to live elsewhere. It is not likely that a young woman such as he would marry would care to bury herself all the year round in the country. FLORENCE Phil's wife would be content and happy anywhere, as long as she were near him — I mean — Mr. St. George is bound to marry some one fond of country life. He would never care for life away from here. This place has been in the family of the St. Georges for so many generations, that, out of sheer liabit, they can- not live away from it. It seems as if they had literally taken root here. MRS. WATSON But does Mr. St. George never go to London? 77 FLORENCE Very rarely, and he barely stops there a day, if he can help it. MRS. WATSON That is curious. I thought the General rather complained of the boy's getting into scrapes? FLORENCE London is not the only place where people get into scrapes. Phil— Mr. St. George— has given the General a little anxiety occaisionally in the past. But he is steady enough now. MRS. WATSON I am glad you say so. The General is very, very fond of his boy, and he certainly seemed a little appre- hensive when he spoke of him. FLORENCE He might have spared himself that anxiety. It seems a pity that he should have spoken to strangers abroad of a few boyish indiscretions, which are alto- gether matters of the past. Forgive me, I don't mean to be rude. Only it does seem a pity, doesn't it? MRS. WATSON Never mind, my dear. I shall think none the worse 78 of the boy on that account. If any young man were anxious, for instance, to marry my little girl, I should be relieved rather than otherwise to know that he had sowed his wild oats, so that he could enter into married life with no dangerous curiosity for the forbidden. But those are things you can't under- stand. FLORENCE I think I understand what you mean, Mrs. Wat- son. MRS. WATSON Then you are very sensible. I must say I thought it a little risky of the General to have left his " scamp of a boy," as he insists on calling his son, in a country house alone with a young girl of twenty-odd years, and I could not help telling him so. FLORENCE You told him so ! MRS. WATSON Yes, indeed I did! Men never think of these things— the best of them don't. And then they are surprised when But all's well that ends well! And I am quite reassured now that I know you. Ah, here they are ! 79 PHILIP, and MISS watson. Maud, you are really too unreasonable to run such risks. I am sure it must be cold and damp out of doors. MISS WATSON Indeed, no, mother. Mr. St. George rowed me about on the lake, and we went quite to the other end. The house seems a fairy palace from there. You have no idea how lovely it looks with its win- dows lit up and with all the tapering reflections in the water. MRS. WATSON I only hope you have not caught cold. It's too bad of you, anyhow, to have made the poor General go after you. MISS WATSON I am really very sorry. General. Will you forgive me? GENERAL Forgive you, my dear ! Bless your dear little soul ! It was a pleasure. Fact is, you're not to blame; it's that young rascal who is at fault. PHILIP Governor, I assure you it was ever so warm, and 80 Miss Watson can't possibly have caug-ht cold. Besides, she had my dress-coat over her shoulders while I was rowing. GENERAL All right, let's say no more about it. And now, Miss Watson, if your expedition has really not affected you, you are to prove it by giving us a song, MRS. WATSON Is it not rather late, General, to begin singing? GENERAL No, no, it's not too late. Just let her sing one song. MISS WATSON Of course I will, and with pleasure. What shall it be? Have you any preference. General? You know^ all my songs, or nearly all. GENERAL Whatever you like, my dear, as long as your heart is in it. Not one of those Wagner things. Your heart can't be in them. You are always at your best when you follow your own inclination. I dis- covered that in Aix. 8i MISS WATSON [Rummaging in a portfolio which has been placed on the piano, and which she has unlocked. I sup- pose I am very human. Let me see— yes, this will do. [To PHILIP.] Do you remember those big moths we saw hovering over the fiower-beds when we first went out? Curiously, they made me think of this song. I have not looked at it for ages, but somehow I tliink I should like to sing it to-night. PHILIP Let me see the title. "Summer Moths." That's rather an odd name, isn't it? MISS WATSON I think it a very charming name ; it's a beautiful pathetic little song, if I can only do it justice. [Sings.] A summer moth on a cornice high With longing dreamt of days gone by, When she, a brown little chrysalis, knew Not shiver of cold nor damp of dew. For never there was such a sensitive thing As a summer moth that was born in spring. A maiden heaved a weary sigh, And a bitter tear-drop stood in her eye, As she dreamt of her innocent girlish state When she knew neither envy nor love nor hate. 82 For never there ims such a sensitive thing As the heart of a maid ivho is wooed in spring. But ivinter follotced with wind and frost, And that poor little summer moth was lost : A7id maid was tveak and man was strong, And that is the end of my sad little song. ' For maid, like moth, poor sensitive thing. Can taste but once the rapture of spring. ' [FLORENCE has during the last verse of the song crept, with half-concealed emotion, out on to the terrace. GENERAL Capital! capital! [clapjoing his hands. To MRS. WATSON.] Your daughter is really an artist-a splen- did artist. PHILIP [To MISS WATSON.] Thanks, awfully. It's a bit gloomy, that; but you do sing beautifully. MRS. WATSON [To GENERAL.] Marcliesi taught her admirably, don't you think so? GENERAL Her voice gives me a thrill, as if I were twenty instead of being fifty. You must not think of taking 83 that girl away too soon, Mrs. Watson. It will be cruel to deprive me of her singing. Miss Watson, you should consider yourself one of the happiest of mor- tals, to be able to afford so much pleasure to others. MISS WATSON It makes me very happy to know that my singing pleases you, and you must never mind asking me to sing if you really want to hear me. I shall be glad at all times to do so while I'm here, just to show you how grateful I am for all your kindness to us. GENERAL But when you go — but you must not think of that for a long while. Fact is, I only wish I could keep you here altogether. MRS. WATSON You are too kind— too good to that girl —much too good! You have no idea how harassing American women are in the long run, and how exigeantes. But you'll soon find out— soon enough! At least we'll relieve you this evening. Good-night, General [shaking hands ivith the general], good-night. GENERAL Good-night, Mrs. Watson. I hope you will rest well the first time you sleep under my roof. [MRS. WATSON skukes hands with philip, who is talking intently to miss watson. 84 MRS. WATSON Come, Maud, come! MISS WATSON All right, mother? [Exit MRS. watson. GENERAL [Following.] Let me lig-lit your candle for you. MISS WATSON Good-night, really now. [Offering her hand, ivhich philip takes and holds. PHILIP Good-night! And just you think over what the governor said. We shall never let you go; you'll have to make England your home. MISS WATSON Oh, no, Mr. St. George, indeed, No! I am an American, and I love my country dearly! It would take a great deal of persuasion to keep me away from it for any lengthy period, and as for leaving it alto- gether PHILIP I wonder whether you really are so patriotic that nobody could persuade you — if, for instance, I could if I tried ever so hard? 85 MISS WATSON You? What an idea! I don't think you would have a ghost of a chance. Why, I hardly know you. PHILIP And yet I feel as if I had known you all my life. MISS WATSON [Trying to 7'elease her hand.] All your life, in- deed ! Just you wait till you know me a little better. Two or three days may suffice to change your opinion. But I must really go to bed now. Won't you let my hand go? PHILIP Your hand— Oh MISS WATSON How odd you are ! Do all Englishmen act as you do toward young ladies the first day they see them? PHILIP I don't know what other Englishmen do with other American girls. I don't suppose any other Englishman ever before saw such an American girl. S6 I\IISS WATSON Tut, tut! You are silly [releasing her hand.] Good-night. Good-night. [Exit. PHILIP Good-night, and MISS WATSON [Outside.] Good-night, General. GENERAL Good-night, my child. God bless you ! [At door.] Good-night, Phil. PHILIP Good-night, governor, good-night. [As PHILIP turns from the door he sees Flor- ence's hack on the terrace ; he crosses stage and retires quickly to the right, locking the door after him, and ignoring Florence's call ''Philip!'' as she turns, facing the stage, and sees his retiring form. She comes for- ward, irresolute ichat to do. Her eyes are very red. She listens at the hall door, hav- ing fi^^st closed the windotv and drawn the curtains. Having assured herself, she crosses to Philip's door. 87 FLORENCE Phil, Phil! [She knocks.] Phil, don't you hear me? PHILIP [From ivithin.] Who is it? FLORENCE I, dearest ! I want to speak to you. PHILIP Not to-night. I am tired. FLORENCE But I must see you for a minute— I must. Just open the door; I won't keep you a second. PHILIP It's too risky, now they are all back. KATE entering, remains at the door. FLORENCE They've all gone upstairs, and I only want to speak to you for a minute. PHILIP Go to bed, dear, I am tired to-night. I am in bed and want to go to sleep. 2>2> \ FLORENCE Oh, Phil, Pliil ! don't be unkind ! You can't be in bed. You have only just left this room. Phil, please— Phil, dear Phil! Do you hear me? [Trying the door. PHILIP I beg" you to leave me alone to-night and to go to bed. I shall not open this door. FLORENCE Do you hear me, Phil? Will you promise to speak to the General to-morrow morning? PHILIP I shall promise nothing if you don't go away now. For your own sake go to bed. You are excited, and if they hear you, don't blame me for the conse- quences. FLORENCE Oh, but Phil, it's only for a minute. PHILIP I shall answer nothing more. I am going to sleep. Good-night. FLORENCE [In great excitement.] Oh, Phil, Phil! just one 89 word! You will be true to me? Dearest, dearest! you will be true to me? For God's sake end this sus- pense! That American — Miss Watson — whom they are throwing at you ! Phil, you won't give me up? Phil, answer! I can't stand it. Oh, Phil! be kind. Say you love me— I am on my knees here ! For God's sake, Phil, don't kill me! On my knees I beg you for one little word of comfort [kjiockmg louder and louder]. Phil, if you desert me, if you take back your word, I shall die ! Phil, I shall die ! Can't you hear my agony? Listen, Phil! One word — just one word, and then I wall go away and be happy and sleep and dream of you, and know you'll be true. Oh, Phil, don't torture me. KATE I think you are worrying in vain, miss. If he won't open the door, he won't. I know him. FLORENCE [Violently.] How dare you speak to me? KATE [Advancing.] I beg your pardon, miss. I could not help hearing your carryings on. FLORENCE Don't speak to me ! 90 KATE But I must speak to you, miss, and I don't care what happens after. FLORENCE Go to your room at once ! KATE I came here to put out the lights. FLORENCE I will put them out. KATE [Undecided, then suddenly casting all reserve aside.] I tell you, miss, he is mine— mine ! And it's wicked of you to come between us. FLORENCE How dare you speak to me in that tone? KATE I'm past tliinking of the tone I speak in now, miss. You can turn me into the street if you like— you can tell them all if you like, and what you like. But you can't— you shall not— take him from me ! FLORENCE What do you mean, girl? Mr. St. George and I are engaged to be married. 91 KATE He will never marry you — never? He will treat you as he has treated me. FLORENCE He can never have promised you KATE Promise! What has he not promised? He prom- ised — shall I tell you what he promised? He prom- ised to be a father to his child— his child — do you hear? — his child and my child ! FLORENCE You lie! KATE Lie? Come down with me into the village, and I will show you. Ask him, and if he denies it — see for yourself if nature has not marked the child, so that no one can mistake its father. FLORENCE God help me [grasprng]. Air, air! [faints.] KATE For God's sake! what is it, Miss Flo? Come, Miss Flo! get up. What is the matter? Oh, God! what have I done ? [She rubs her hands, trying to 92 revive her; goes to the hack. She draws the curtain and opens the tvindow ivide.] Miss Flo ! Oh, what shall I do? Master PhiJ, Master Phil! [hanging his door.] For the love of God ! Miss Flo has fainted. Help, help! [She runs out, returns with water, a?id sprinkles Florence's /ace, who revives a lit- tle. KATE lifts her and walks the half-con- scious figure— supporting it in her arms- out of the room. Curtain. 93 THE FOURTH ACT The atmosphere is slightly dull at first, but the sun soon breaks through the mist and shines brightly into the room, as in the first Act. MRS. WATSON, and the general are standing on the terrace. MRS. WATSON There they are ! GENERAL They have been to the stables. MRS. WATSON What a handsome couple they make. GENERAL Indeed they do: your girl is a perfect queen in her bearing. How splendidly she walks I MRS. WATSON And I am sure your son is very, very distin- guished-looking. I do admire your open-faced 97 athletic English boys. You have only to look at them to read them to the core. PHILIP [On steps.] I have shown Miss Watson over the stables, but she doesn't seem to care for horses. MISS WATSON [Just visible.] On the contrary, I admired your horses very much indeed, General. But now I should like to go to the flower garden. Mother, will you come with me, and let the gentlemen enjoy their morning smoke? MRS. WATSON With pleasure, child. We will relieve you, gentle- men, for a little wliile, and return to a renewed charge. GENERAL [Laughing.] Then we must fortify our bastions and see to the ammunition. MRS. WATSON By the way, I have not seen Miss Bentley this morning. I wonder whether she would not like to accompany us? PHILIP You will probably find her either in the fl.ower 98 or in the kitchen garden. She always goes there in the morning. MRS. WATSON Very well, we will look for her. GENERAL Oh, Mrs. Watson. [Calling after her.] You may, by the way, be interested in a little ceremony which takes place annually here on my return from abroad. Fact is, I keep a few of my old soldiers as pensioners on the place : it does them good, poor old cripples, to be looked after, and I love to have them near me. War brings the classes very near together. When I return, these good folk make a point of giving me a sort of oflBcial welcome, a speech or two, many cheers, and a song to wind up with. If it interests you to witness the little ceremonj^, you had better get back here in about half-an-hour. MRS. WATSON [Fi'om the terrace.] Indeed, I should like to see it very much. MISS WATSON And so should I. MRS. WATSON We will be back in ample time. 99 MISS WATSON So long, then. [MRS. and Miss watson exeunt. GENERAL That reminds me that I have not seen Flo this morning either. If I am not mistaken she had not been down to breakfast when I left the dining-room. Ill just ask Kate where she is. [Rings. PHILIP She is sure to be somewhere about the house or the garden. I have not seen iier myself. GENERAL Odd, is it not ? Enter kate. GENERAL Have you seen Miss Bentley, Kate? She wa.s not at breakfast. KATE I fear Miss Bentley is not quite well. She was poorly last night and I had to put her to bed, sir. GENERAL What was the matter? IGO KATE She had a shock, I think, and she fainted. GENERAL But where and how? KATE I found her here in the drawing-room when I came to put out the lights, and she seemed fearfully excited. PHILIP Over-fatigued, I suppose, a little hysterical excite- ment ; she is probably quite well by now. KATE Oh, no. Master Phil, it's not so small a matter as that ! It will take more to cure her than a night's rest, if she's had even that, poor thing. I stayed with her till she slept. It was near three when I got to bed myself. GENERAL You worr}^ me. What was the matter? KATE Oh, perhaps, sir — perhaps Miss Bentley had better tell you herself, or perhaps Master Phil knows. lOI GENERAL Miss Bentley — Master Phil — I don't understand. Phil, what does she mean? PHILIP Had Kate not better go up and see how Flo is? GENERAL Yes, you are right. Go up at once and see if she wants anything. KATE I was up there a little while ago. All seemed quiet, so I thought I had better not disturb her. GENERAL Go up again, open the door quietly, and see how she is. Don't disturb lier if she is asleep. KATE Very well, sir. [Exit kate. GENERAL What is this, Phil? What does it all mean? PHILIP It's no good beating about the bush! Well, then, governor, what do you say ! Shall I marry Florence Bentley? I02 GENERAL Marry Florence Bentley? "What the devil do you mean? Marry Florence Bentley? Fact is, you shall not marry Florence Bentley. PHILIP All right, governor, don't excite yourself. If you won't have it, I suppose I can't marry her. Only I don't quite see how I can help doing so. GENERAL Help doing so? I don't understand you. Explain yourself. PHILIP The fact is, governor, I am very fond of Flo, and she loves me, that's what's the matter. And we are engaged to be married. GENERAL Oh, you are engaged to be married. Are you though? Well, of course, this does not concern me, so the less said about it the better. [Pause.] PHILIP You see, governor, I don't quite see how we can manage without you. Flo was very nervous about what you might say. 103 GENERAL She was, was she? PHILIP Flo is a d d good sort of a girl, and I don't see what objection you can have to her. GENERAL Objection to Flo ! I have no objection to Flo in her place. Fact is, I love Flo as if she were my own child. PHILIP Yes, and the very moment you have a chance of making her your own child you fly out about it? GENERAL Silence! I won't have your insolence! You are as big a fool this year as you have in former years been a knave. Flo is in no position to think of marrying. She— her family— are practically depend- ent on my charity, and I am surprised that she should so far have forgotten her position as to have encouraged you in your folly. PHILIP Oh, she did not encourage me. It was I who encouraged her. 104 GENERAL Oh, you encouraged her, did you? Well, I will see if I can't explain to her where your encouragement would lead her to. Fact is, I'll soon cure the girl of her malady, if it is nothing but that. PHILIP Had you not better finish with me before you go for her? GENERAL I have nothing more to say to you. You are not in a position to marry Florence Bentley, and she is not in any way a desirable match for you. Quite apart from her unfortunate affliction, which alone should prevent her marrying, her people are not our social equals and she is penniless. PHILIP That is not her fault— you've told her so many a time. GENERAL Florence has lived in my house in the position of a paid servant, and if I have treated her with the same kindness that I should treat my own daughter with 105 PHILIP You brought her up as a lady, and you can't expect her to marry a labourer. GENERAL I did it for the sake of her father, who was as splendid a soldier as ever lived, but a common sergeant. Do you hear! And you a St. George! I educated and cared for her out of affection and pity for the orphan, but assuredly not to make her the wife of my only son. This marriage of yours will not take place ! PHILIP Well, governor, I don't see my way out of it. GENERAL You leave that to me, my boy. Fact is, I will soon make the girl understand why you cannot marry her. Marry her ! If it comes to that, your behaviour with Miss Watson last night didn't look much like marry- ing Florence Bentley. PHILIP A fellow can't always be hanging about after the girl he is going to marry. She'd soon be sick of him. Besides^ Miss Watson is a ripper I io6 GENERAL She is a delightful girl ! There is a wife for you, my boy! Now, why not try your luck there? Get rid of this silly fancy for Flo, which will never lead to anything, and see if you can't win the affections of Miss Watson. Fact is, if you only could persuade her to marry you, it would indeed be a piece of good luck for you, and j^ou would mdke your old father very happy. PHILIP I suppose Miss Watson is infernally rich? GENERAL I should imagine she must be very well off indeed, to judge from what I have gathered from her mother about their home. Besides, the American Minister in Paris gave me a most excellent account of them. Fact is, they are quite first-class people. Although I do certainly not look upon these considerations as paramount, they nevertheless must be weighed in a question of marriage. Don't be a fool, Phil. [Slaps his back.] Go in and win I And if you do, I'll set you up handsomely, my boy, that I will ! PHILIP And I suppose I shall get nothing if I marry Flo? 107 GENERAL Confound it ! I simply forbid your ever mention- ing her name again in that connection. Do you hear me? PHILIP Yes, I hear. Still, I don't see how I can get out of it. You should not have left us alone all these months. GENERAL Stuff and nonsense! You have lived together all your lives. How can my absence have made this difference? You were children together, were brought up together. Fact is, she has been to you as a sister. PHILIP Well, you see, you were not here for her to look after, and so she looked after me, and as there was no one else for me to look after I looked after her ; that is how we got to care for each other in that way. Anyhow, it's too late now to change things, and I don't see how I can help marrying the girl. GENERAL Phil! Phil! You don't mean that ! For God's sake say it is not so! Phil, Phil! This is very wrong of you ! My old sergeant's daughter, whom he entrusted to my care in his dying hour, and my 1 08 own son— under my roof! Oh, Phil, what have you done? PHILIP I am willing to marry her. GENERAL And what good can there be in such a marriage? Would she ever have your respect as a wife, having been your mistress? Oh, Phil, what have you done, what have you done? PHILIP I am sorry— I was an ass, I suppose. It can't be helped now, and I shall have to go on with it— make the best of a bad job. GENERAL Make the best of a bad job? That is the spirit in which you are prepared to enter into the holiest of all ties that bind human beings together ! Oh, Phil, you have made a hard bed for yourself to lie on ! KATE, entering excitedly. KATE Oh, sir, Miss Bentley has gone— gone away! I found this. 109 GENERAL Gone, you say. gone? But where? [He opens the letter and reads. "My dear fatherly Friend,— i^or^u-e me, I beg and beseech you, for the trouble and anxiety I am, alas! compelled to cause you— a poor return for your great and unvarying kindness. From the bottom of my heart 1 thank you again and again. With burning shame, I feel myself to be the ungrate- fid recipient of bounties and benefits untold. Oh, if you could only even noiv bring yourself to think of me kindly ! When the great love of my life first came to me I put it aside, for I could not help seeing its icorldly advantages— the security it offered to me and mine, and ivith that all the unfitness of it. As I grew blinder and blinder the temptation became greater and greater. At first the terror came on sloidy, but then it increased ivith giant steps, until the veil was almost closed before my eyes. Consider ichat this meant for me and mine ! But before God Isivear to you it was not until I was sure beyond all doubt that I loved ivith all my heart and soul, devotedly and entirely, that I could tolerate your son's advances. All that followed was inevitable. If he had been incapable of fidelity to others, he should, he must, be true to me, and so I stooped In my dying hour I beg of you to forgive me.^^ no Dying ! For God's sake, what does she mean— what has happened? [KATE is sobbing, philip deathly pale and silent [Continuing.] '' I beg of you also not to let my mother come to harm. Poor soul, the neivs of my end will be terrible enough for her. Good-bye, God bless you.— Your child, Florence Bentley." Where can she be? What can she have done? Can she still be saved ? What do you know of this, Phil? [A shriek is heard from the garden.] GENERAL What is that? One of the ladies? PHILIP [Rushing to the icindoiu.] Miss Watson GENERAL Oh, my God! ray God! [Enter miss watson, breathless, pale, and terribly frightened ; she sits doivn speech- less, pointing toward the garden. MRS. WATSON [Following.] A terrible accident has happened. Miss Bentley is dead — is drowned ! MISS WATSON We saw it there, floating- on the lake. It seemed a huge white swan, with its head under water. It was out in the middle of the lake, in the sun, dazzling white. And I called the gardener, but he could not say what it was. KATE Yes, and then MISS WATSON They opened the sluices at the side of the terrace there, and as the water rushed down the brook the white thing was borne towards us on the flood. Then we saw it was a human form. There was long dark hair floating out behind in the wake, and her face was pale and terrible. [She hides her face, sobbing, in MRS. watson's bosom. Both are entirely overcome. MRS. WATSON My poor child, my poor child ! calm yourself. MISS WATSON Mother! mother! [Silence, during ivhich thetj compose them- selves. 112 GENERAL [Bearing up ivith evident effort.] My friends, -we are face to face with an awful tragedy. Fact is, this is no accident. This is almost murder. KATE Don't, sir, don't! GENERAL Silence, girl, and answer my questions. What took place in this room last night, after 1 had gone to bed? KATE I came in, sir, to put out the lights. I found Miss Bentley on her knees at Master Phil's door, begging him to let her in. He called out to her that it would be too risky now that you, sir, had come home. Then I saw that she had won his heart— she thought she had, if he has a heart — and I was reckless and told her all. [MRS. WATSON leads her daughter on to the terrace. GENERAL Told her all ! What did you tell her? 113 / KATE [In tears.] That he used to be my lover— that he is my baby's father. GENERAL [As if about to strike philip.] You hound! [Breaking doivn.] You are not my son. Go — go— to hell! [PHILIP makes a movement as if to leave the room. Stay ! First hear what I'v^e got to say ! PHILIP To be told that I am cut off with a shilling! It is not my fault that she has drowned herself. I wanted to do the right thing— you know I did. I was very fond of poor Flo, very fond. GENERAL Fond! You don't know what love is, or purity. You are a deceiver, a spoiler — a vermin that eats to the core and rots the tree. You have disgraced your family — you liave ruined yourself and me. This house must be closed, not to be reopened in my life- time. Your victim [to kate] and her wretched off- spring shall not starve, nor shall they be further disgraced. The Lower Farm will be theirs to live on. God have pity on you, Kate ! You have done very 114 wrong-. Praj' to the Almiglity that He nmy not punish you in your child, so that she resemble her father. KATE May Heaven reward you, sir. But, sir, be kind to Phil ; forgive him ; forgive him ! PHILIP Perhaps I had better live at the Lower Farm as well. GENERAL To continue a life of idleness at all cost? Do with- out comforts, luxuries— pocket all self-respect— so long as you can be idle? No, no, a thousand times NO! PHILIP The Lower Farm is no sinecure, and I don't sup- pose Kate GENERAL Don't concern yourself about Kate. You are to leave this place at once — to go out into the world, not to return or to be heard of until, through work, you have trained yourself to know what human responsibility is. [Pause.] 115 GENERAL [Continuing with broken voice.] Go into the world, my boy. Atone for the evil you have done. Take this as my advice — work, work, work. Fact is, there is no blessedness, no goodness, no virtue in any one who will not work. See where your idle- ness has brought you to! [Hardening.] I cannot even know you, until, through work, you have atoned. [Turning towards the windoiv.] Ladies! MISS WATSON [In angry heat, to Philip.] With us in the South the people take justice into their own hands when the law is not swift enough. They hang men like you on the nearest tree. So are women avenged with us. [PHILIP backs out of the room.] MRS. WATSON {Coming forwai^d.] Peace, my child. Waste no further words on him, but join me in consoling this good and worthy friend of ours. General ! [Offering him her hand.] Friend, I am grieved and pained so that words fail me. You have been kind and good to us. Let us in your great trouble stand by you — be your friends, your comforters. Join us on our journey. There is a home over the sea ready to welcome you. Come with us, General, for a while ii6 at least. It will be easier there to forget, and per- haps to forgive ! GENERAL I am driven out from the home of my ancestors, to spend an old age of disgrace and misery among strangers. Fact is, I am unfit now to think of again serving my Queen. MISS WATSON [To GENERAL, vevy softly.] Come with us— come with us ! GENERAL Ladies, I thank you. You are right; there is no place for me in England. [Taking both their ex- tended hands.] Let us continue our journey. [The pensioners are observed crowding up the terrace from the right. They divide with aivestruck reverence as men co7ne up from the left bearing on their shoulders a board with FLORENCE'S body on it. Curtain. 117