University of Virginia Library

Scene I.—

Entrance Hall in Robert Murdock's Place, near Festigniog. A billiard table at the side, to the left of the spectator. An old carved oak cupboard or armoury to the right. Deeply embrasured window at the back of the stage, with a view of distant mountains and the drive winding through the grounds. A round table with books and papers.
Robert Murdock, Carteret, Cross, and Payne.
PAYNE.
Seventy to ninety-two,—the game's a hundred.
Now, Murdock, come; the balls are waiting you;
There's eight to make.

ROBERT MURDOCK.
I see my way to make it;
If at a stroke, I'll count it for an omen.

CROSS.
Of what?

ROBERT MURDOCK.
[Taking deliberate aim.]
Of luck in fishing,—nothing more;
That lovely trout I've angled for so long,
If by a screw I touch the white ball there,
I'll land that trout to-morrow.

CARTERET.
Come, I say;
Your plots are too long hatching.

PAYNE.
Done, by Jove!

CROSS.
A pretty stroke,—a cannon off the red,
And both balls pocketed.

ROBERT MURDOCK.
The game is mine,
And so shall be the trout. You're near the bell,
Just touch it, will you?

[Carteret rings the bell.
PAYNE.
Now, for my revenge;
Come, Murdock, break the balls.

ROBERT MURDOCK.
No, not to-night:
I am content with fortune, and will rest
At one with her. Success is inspiration.

CROSS.
What mischief would you have it help you to?

ROBERT MURDOCK.
The capture of the trout I told you of.
Enter Servant, in answer to bell.
Tell Mrs. Price I want to speak with her.

PAYNE.
What, Hecate, your one-eyed housekeeper?

CARTERET.
One eye was one too many in her head
When with that one the purblind beldame chose
A swaggering young scamp to be her husband,
Who'll squeeze the money out of her for drink,
And leave her pocket shrunken as her skin.

CROSS.
Hush! here she comes.

PAYNE.
We'll leave you to your tryst. [Exeunt Carteret, Cross, and Payne.

Enter Mrs. Price.

ROBERT MURDOCK.
Have you prepared the chamber for the lady

MRS. PRICE.
Aye, aye!

ROBERT MURDOCK.
The painted chamber?

MRS. PRICE.
Yes; your own.

ROBERT MURDOCK.
It is the best; I wish to do her honour.

MRS. PRICE.
Well, honour or dishonour, Sir, 'tis ready.

ROBERT MURDOCK.
Good; and you've moved me to the room above?

MRS. PRICE.
Your man has moved your clothes there; 'tis a job
Not suited to my time of life. I've got
A mort o' twinges. What with the rheumatics
And—

ROBERT MURDOCK.
You would say your conscience. Now, look here;
I tell you, if that stings, it stings for nothing.
You're welcome to mount guard beside her door.
This lady seeks her brother at Festigniog;
He is not there. To spare her further trouble,
I give her lodging in her own despite.
She must not know to whom she is beholden.
You can keep counsel. Speech would not be silver
To you; but silence, look you, would be golden.
If you still doubt me, and still feel those twinges,
Take this,-a sovereign cure. Ha! ha!

[Gives money.
MRS. PRICE.
You make me laugh, Sir, with your pleasant ways.

Re-enter Servant.
SERVANT.
[To Mrs. Price.]
Tom Price is here.

ROBERT MURDOCK.
Without the lady?

SERVANT.
Yes, Sir.
The lady's in the trap, Sir, at the gate. [To Mrs. Price.]

He wants to speak with you.

ROBERT MURDOCK.
Well, bring him in.
Enter Tom Price.
Where is the lady?

TOM PRICE.
In a swound almost.

ROBERT MURDOCK.
Where is she swooning?

TOM PRICE.
In the trap.

ROBERT MURDOCK.
Where's that?

TOM PRICE.
Fast in a rut, the near hind-wheel nigh off.
I loosed the pin, Sir, all as you gave orders.
But had you seen the face of her when first
I told her what had chanced, I'm bound your honour
Would let her go her ways, where'er they led to.
Her brother's sick, and wants her.

MRS. PRICE.
You've been drinking,
Or wouldn't talk that way. You'll smart for this.

ROBERT MURDOCK.
[Fills a glass, and gives it to Tom.]
[Aside.]
An angler should not shrink from touching slime.
Here, take that, on the top of all the rest.

MRS. PRICE.
You make him harmless, but my way was better.
I should ha' sobered him with fright, and used him
To finish up the job.

ROBERT MURDOCK.
Safe have, safe hold.
We're best to keep the babbler here, and send
Some stouter heart to fetch the lady in.
Go, Frost; and mind, we have no wheelwrights here;
This house is uninhabited, except
By you, and Tom, and Mrs. Price, who keep it;
Go, offer her its hospitality,
She'll take it, if you show her that her choice
Lies betwixt that and sleeping in the lane.
[Frost bows and exit.
Now, Carteret, those fellows must clear out;
Get them to go with you;—she's coming, man;
The smoking-room is distant; take them there;
All must be empty here, empty as air;
This house must seem the heritage of ghosts.

TOM PRICE.
[Maudlin, and almost weeping.]
You'll let me fix the wheel upon the trap,
Your honour? 'Twould ha' cut you to the heart
To see her wring her hands, and they so white,—
But whiter was her winsome face.

MRS. PRICE.
[Filling the glass.]
Drink, fool!
Drink to the whey-faced lady; you're in luck.

ROBERT MURDOCK.
Yes, drown him wholly. He is dangerous;
And she must see him here, lest she misdoubt
The trap.

[Refills, and gives the glass.
TOM PRICE.
To you, Sir, and the pretty lady.
She looked a l-lily with the rain upon her,
The rain-drops sparkling in the rising moon.

MRS. PRICE.
Ah, see as many moons as there are stars;
We'll soak you soon in liquor till you're blind.
Moonlight, indeed! At night, all cats are grey.

TOM PRICE.
I'll drive you, lady, though I beg for it!

[Falls on the floor.
ROBERT MURDOCK.
His tongue is locked. Quick, now, and draw the cover
Over the table there. We're barely matched
With time.
[Watching Winifred approach from the window.
Soh, all is well, the gate now shuts
On her; she little dreams whereto her steps
Are leading her, or knows the god who guides them. [Exit Robert Murdock.


Enter Winifred, with Frost.
WINIFRED.
Festigniog still ten miles? Well, I can walk it.
Where now is he who drove me? I would give him
Three times his fare to put me on my way.

MRS. PRICE.
There lies Tom Price, my husband, pretty lady.

WINIFRED.
Asleep? Well, sleep is good, but it comes lightly,
It seems to him. You will not mind to wake him?

TOM PRICE.
[Half rising.]
Here, Miss, your servant. Fifty moons or none,
I'll shift to drive you. There's no man could speak you
No fairer now nor that.

[Falls back again.
WINIFRED.
What's this?

MRS. PRICE.
He's drunk.

TOM PRICE.
No, lively, lady! There's no man 'twixt this
And Conway knows this country-side so well,
Especially o' nights—

MRS. PRICE.
A thankless sot!
Maybe, in fifty years, my boy, they'll haul you
Out o' the bog, and show you, fresh as paint,
For money, when I'm not at hand to get it.

WINIFRED.
Oh, I am lost! [To Frost.]

You'll point me out the road?

FROST.
I am a stranger in these parts, young lady.

WINIFRED.
[To Mrs. Price.]
Well, you could tell the turnings I must take.

MRS. PRICE.
What, in the dark? Do you, too, want to pickle
Your white flesh in the bog? I'll tell you nought.
You'd best come dry yourself before the fire,
And take our food and lodging for the night;
We'll turn you out to-morrow.

WINIFRED.
I must go!
I have a brother at Festigniog, who
Is sick, and worse than sick, in grievous trouble;
He wants my help.

MRS. PRICE.
There'll come no help for him
Through you to-night. You'll get no nearer to him
By drowning. So, just take a dry night's rest,—
'Tis better than the river or the bog;
And in the morning early—

WINIFRED.
She is right;
The deepening night dispenses me of choice.
Poor wretch! you lie beneath our country's curse,
And cannot aid me. I will stay, good mother;
Thanks for the offer; I, in truth, am weary.
No; nothing but a bed whereon to rest,
And gather strength for better use to-morrow. [Exeunt Winifred and Mrs. Price into the chamber.
Enter Robert Murdock, stealthily, by opposite door.


ROBERT MURDOCK.
I have you in the pool, my dainty trout;
There will be work enough to angle you.
Strange, how the dark, old place seems sanctified,—
Yes, sanctified, no other word will serve,
But by her unseen presence; she has carried
Her strong, pure purpose through the hall, and purged
Thereby the air our breathing had made gross.
Well, her own atmosphere shall compass her;
She lies there safe as in her nest at Fulham,
While I, with baser means—so better matched with
This muddy ball, the earth—contrive her will.