 | The Wife's Secret |  |
ACT II.
Scene First.
—Garden of Sir Walter Amyott's House.Enter Maud and Page, R. 1 E.
Page.
(R. C.)
I tell thee, Mistress Maud, there is a secret.
Maud.
(C.)
I tell thee, Master Page, thou art a fool.
Page.
Everything proves it—
Maud.
What, that thour't a fool?
Page.
Psha! No; but that some dear delicious secret
Is giving interest to these dull old walls.
Now Maud—dear Maud—by all the tender love
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By all the charms of buttery and larder,
That spread a halo of delight about thee—
I do conjure thee—
Maud.
What an imp it is!
Page.
Maud, gentle Maud! Think of this gloomy house,
That has grown gray with premature old age,
And I with it, for want of some excitement
To vary our monotonous propriety—
Think of its now holding a mystery
To stir its pulse up to a healthy beat,
And I forbid my share! There's not a page
From Durham to Land's End that would endure it!
Maud—pretty Maud!
Maud.
Thou arrant little fool!
I tell thee there is naught.
Page.
Maud, have a care!
My office gives me opportunities
Beyond the common herd—I've seen too much!
Maud.
(alarmed)
Seen! What?
Page.
Ha! Thou dost start,—thou'rt pale, sweet Maud!
Seen what? Hist!—no one's by. Why has my lady
Forsworn her Bower Chamber?
Maud.
Why? Because
She's weary of it. She has wept and watched there
So many hours, she made a solemn vow
That, should my lord come safely home at last,
No foot should enter it—no eye behold it—
'Till twelve months' joy had washed it sweet again.
Page.
Excellent Maud!—but lady most forsworn!
Forsworn, ere yet twelve hours of joy had passed!
Why did she—ah, she fancied, unobserved—
Steal, an hour back, in secret to that chamber?
Why did sweet Maud bear there a portly basket,
Hid in a napkin, and come empty forth?
Why lock the door so carefully behind her?
Maud.
Silence! The deuce is in the prying urchin!
Page.
Aha, good Maud!—is there no secret now?
There's more than that, though—
Maud.
Peace, thou imp of mischief!
Page.
Hist! (beckons her—whispers)
There is a man concealed within that chamber.
21
(screams)
Ha! Oh, thou wretch! Thou little slanderous viper!
I'll have thee hanged.
Page.
I say, Maud, there's a man!
I heard his voice in converse with my lady,—
Heard him in talk with thee too. Maud, thou tremblest;
But do not fear—I am a gentleman.
Treat me with confidence, I'll not betray you;
But, strive to hoodwink me and fool me, then
I'll be all spite and mischief—cross and vicious;
I'll go for counsel to old Jabez Sneed;
I'll—
Maud.
Curse upon the prying little vermin!
Well, since you know it then, there is a man.
Page.
Oho, my charming Maud!
Maud.
But, look you, sir,
There's life and death hang now on your discretion,
And if you speak—
Page.
My honour, Maud—my honour!
You have my honour. (laying his hand on his heart)
But who is the man?
La! only think, my lady! Fie, fie, fie!
Oh, woman, woman, you're a feeble sex!
We men do play the very devil with
Your dear soft hearts! We ought to shew more mercy—
We really— (crosses L.)
Maud.
(boxing his ears)
Why thou pestilent cock sparrow!
Is't possible thou dar'st with even a thought
Slander my precious lady! Know then, sir,
Since I must tell your prying pageship all things,
It is her brother.
Page.
Brother! Pooh, pooh, pooh!
Maud.
I tell thee boy—I swear it—that the man
Hid in the Bower Chamber, is Lord Arden.
He has sought refuge here unknown to all,
'Till he can ship for France. And since, sir, now
You've got your will, and all that I can tell you,
I shall expect your aid.
Page.
I'm disappointed.
Maud.
What!
Page.
Yes, I really am. A little mischief
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Of this staid, pretty-mannered house.
Maud.
Why now,
Thou little reprobate—
Page.
Hush!—no ill language.
(whispers)
Remember I'm a co-conspirator;
And, to offend me, may be dangerous.
Maud.
Hist, for your life! We're watched!
Page.
Fear nothing, Maud;
Thou'rt under my protection. (leads her apart to L.)
Enter Jabez, R. 1 E.
Jabez.
Whispering?
Heads close together? Is he, too, made partner
Of the suspicions held against me? Fool
To give my papers up to her demand!
I deemed her asking them a woman's whim,
Which, if opposed, would but grow doubly strong;
Or, yielded to, would cease with its enjoyment.
But she has pried too curiously, and now
Locks up the chamber where they are bestowed;
Belike that they may testify against me.
Could I obtain them—some few figures changed,
And all were well again; but, till that's done,
I lie within her malice. Mistress Maud!
Maud.
Save thee, good master Jabez!
Jabez.
My occasions
Require admittance to the Bower Chamber.
Maud.
(C.)
In verity, 'tis closéd with a fastening,
Carnally called a lock; and Lady Eveline
Hath got the key. No one may enter there.
Jabez.
(R. C.)
But there be papers which Sir Walter needs,
And I must render him. Obtain the key
But for a minute, and the act shall be
Esteemed a goodly service.
Maud.
Peradventure,
They be the papers which my lady wishes
Herself to render to Sir Walter's hand.
Those where she deem'd she found—ahem! thou knowest!
Jabez.
It ill beseemeth servants and handmaidens
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Is better found in goodly fellowship.
Cast in thy lot with mine; it may be, else,
That I may stir some matters, Mistress Maud,
In thine own office, that but ill become thee.
Maud.
In mine? Man, I defy you!
Jabez.
Even in thine.
There's pilfering in the larder! Choice provisions,
That neither reach master's nor servants' tables,
Vanish from out the house!
Maud.
There must be rats.
(aside)
Lord Arden has a monstrous appetite.
Jabez.
I am not given to care for creature comforts;
But I had put aside a little pasty
For my own use—
Maud.
(aside)
Last night his lordship's supper.
Jabez.
'Tis stolen!—gone!
Maud.
The pasty? Oh, the pasty
Yes, the poor dog, old Rover—Rover ate it.
I would have beat him, but he seemed to say
'Twas only a small love of creature comforts
The steward's room had taught him.
Jabez.
And the wine
A flask of Burgundy that stood beside it,
Drank the dog that, too?
Maud.
(aside)
Plague upon the wine!
Who shall have taken that?
Page.
(aside, up L. C.)
She's breaking down;
I must go in and rescue her
Jabez.
The wine!
The wine, I say!
Page.
(advancing, R.)
Oh, fie, fie, Master Sneed!
You know I saw you drinking that yourself.
Jabez.
Me! Saw me drink it?
Page.
(gravely)
Thee—thee—Jabez Sneed.
The fumes of it are still upon thy breath.
Maud.
(approaching him)
Oh, quite unpleasant!
Jabez.
Scum! Do you dare to flaunt me?
Page.
Oh, it's rising!
It's getting in his head. (whispers aloud)
He's drunk!
This is a sight unfit for female eyes.
24
Leave him. Oh, fie!
Maud.
Oh, fie, fie, Jabez Sneed!
Exeunt Maud and Page, R. 1 E.
Jabez.
They dared not do this, if they felt not sure
My ruin was determined. They make haste
Already to the spoil, and glorify
Themselves in my backslidings. How to oppose them?
If I could only shake her credit with him;
Make him, but by a shade, distrustful of her—
Find something I could threaten with. But no;
She is too subtle. The accursed papers!
'Tis all shut up in them. What if I move him
To ask, as for himself, the chamber key?
She'll scarce deny him. If she give it—good!
If not, in the refusal, there's suspicion,
Which, managed tenderly, might—Hush! he's here. (goes up, L.)
Enter Sir Walter, R. 1 E.
Sir Wal.
My home, my home! Oh, what a wordless joy
To be in thy familiar clasp again!
In absence, it seemed almost too much bliss
For hope to picture. My returning foot
Paused on the threshold, doubting still, lest change,
Like a spring frost, had nipt some bud away;
But not a leaf is wanting! All's the same—
Love, peace, and joy flutter in every breeze,
And my full heart, too small for its great wealth,
Flows over with its rapture.
(Jabez advances, L.)
Ha! good Jabez!
The same as ever—up with the first dawn?
Jabez.
The master suffers when the servant sleeps—
And forty years of sleepless service, make
Watching grow second nature. I'm a fool though—
My zeal but breeds revilings for my payment:
Yet 'tis for you.
Sir Wal.
And me it binds your friend.
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I thank him most for thee, my honest Jabez.
Jabez.
Ah, well, well, well!—truly thou art a kind
And easy master—it may be too easy;
Yet servants and handmaidens, dogs, and horses,
All joy to see thee back!
Sir Wal.
(smiling)
Maids, dogs, and horses,
And never name their mistress! Fie! The flash
Of happiness that kindled on her cheek
At my approach—oh, that had more of joy
Than all a world beside, combined, could offer.
(crosses, L.)
Jabez.
Well, well, perhaps it had.
Sir Wal.
Only perhaps?
Jabez.
How should I know? I have some little skill
In servants, horses, dogs—but none in women,
I thank my fortune, and my single state.
Sir Wal.
Thou graceless infidel! Would'st thou be blind
And thank the lot that hid from thee the rose?
Deaf, and rejoice thou could'st not hear sweet music?
Fie! fie on thee! The tongue that rails at woman
Blasphemes creation in its brightest work.
A ribald jest upon her purity
Is flinging stain upon the fairest mirror,
Where heaven is glass'd below.
Jabez.
I thought 'twas only
The trick of raving boys, to call earth heaven,
And women angels.
Sir Wal.
Nay, that do not I;
I would not so mis-name my Eveline.
She is a woman! 'Tis the idiot's cant
To seek for what's of earth, a higher name.
The smile that darts its sunlight to our souls;
The sigh that melts and purifies our hearts;
The trembling tear that owns and pleads for weakness;
The timid trust that leans upon our strength;
Gentleness that refines our rugged nature;
And constancy nor time nor change can move;
All these are woman's—woman's own! 'Twould wrong her
To separate her name from her best graces.
26
More wrong to make an idol of frail clay,
And worship it.
Sir Wal.
I worship not—I love!
A nearer, dearer word; whose human fondness
Encloses in its warm and holy clasp
Affection, tenderness, esteem, devotion,
Whatever heaven has left its creatures free
Unblamed to consecrate to one another. (crosses, R.)
Jabez.
And confidence?
Sir Wal.
What question of it?
Jabez.
None.
She's fair to look on, and, I doubt not good,
In full proportion. If on your return
She locks her chamber up against all access,
Except her favourite maid's, it needfully
Argues no want of confidence. Belike
'Tis but caprice.
Sir Wal.
Hast thou occasion there?
Jabez.
My lady had some papers there to view,
Which I require.
Sir Wal.
Then ask her for the key.
Jabez.
Not I, not I; I'm somewhat old to brook
Refusal calmly, and she would refuse me;
For she doth ever make her sport to chafe me:
I know not for what cause.
Sir Wal.
I fear me, Jabez,
Thou art too harsh and churlish with her youth.
Remember, she's thy mistress, and my wife.
Jabez.
I pray you ask my mistress, then—your wife—
To give to you the key of the Bower Chamber.
'Tis like there is no mystery, yet if
There, peradventure, should be, she'll scarce choose
Disclose it to a servant; but from you
I would not think she could desire concealment—
'Twould grieve my spirit if she should.
Sir Wal.
What folly
Works now in thy suspicious brain?
Jabez.
Speak lower.
She comes. I pray you walk now by my counsel.
(turns away, and retires, L.)
27
Lady E.
Oh, Walter, I have been in search of thee!
Why, what is this?—A cloud upon thy brow!
Has aught gone wrong? Yet, even if there has,
Couldst thou but know the pains we have bestowed,
To make all bright and fit to welcome thee,
Thou would'st not be too critical. I meant not
To trust thee from my side till I had been
Thy guide to every favourite spot—I made it
My joy to think how thou would'st view a thousand
Little surprises I'd prepared for thee!
There's not a flower but I have watched its growth,
And hoped it would not bloom till Walter came;
There's not a bird sat singing on a tree
But I have tried to lure it there again
To make its constant perch till thou should'st hear it:
There's not a sight thine eye has ever loved
But I have sought to multiply it round,
To make more beauty for thy coming home;
And I had meant to lead thee on through all,
And find in thy delight a sum of joy
To pay me all thine absence.
Sir Wal.
So thou shalt,
My priceless treasure, my unequalled wife!
And in thy smile, and thy sweet voice's tone,
Shall all of pleasant sights and pleasant sounds,
Gather around till earth grows Eden!
Lady E.
Then
Why did I find thee with so grave a brow?
Sir Wal.
A passing folly—'twould but vex thee!
Lady E.
Walter,
Thou did'st not take me for a summer wife
To share thy sunshine only! That dear title
More strongly yet claims to partake thy pains.
What was the cloud I met upon thy brow?
Sir Wal.
Well, then, they'd tell me,
I have not all thy heart—that thou hast from me
Reserves, concealments—
Lady E.
Who's the enemy
Of both our peace, would dare to whisper that?
28
(affectionately, and resting on her shoulder)
Dost thou say guilty? Has that open heart
Its chambers, where I must not ask admission,
And where I may not enter? Has it thoughts
It would not place, as in my open hand,
Where I might scan them throughly?
Lady E.
Well thou know'st
It is a book whose every character
Thou hast read o'er and o'er—whose open leaves
Thou canst search through at will:—and if a page
There be I would turn over from thine eyes,
'Tis only that which bears some household names
I may not quite blot out—and thou, alas,
Hast little pleasure viewing.
Sir Wal.
Ever most pure and good!
I would not have one shade of heart or soul,
Other than what it is.
Lady E.
(after a short pause)
There's something further!
I have not studied in those eyes so long,
To miss their meaning. There's a something yet,
Struggling for utterance, although forbid—
What is it?
Sir Wal.
Such a folly that I shame
To give it speech; but, thou hast locked a chamber
And borne away the key. Would'st thou object
To trust it to thy husband?
Lady E.
Did the same
Who told thee to suspect me of concealments,
Suggest this proof?
Sir Wal.
Thou'rt right—it was the same—
No second tongue could ever so insult thee,
Save mine, which now—
Lady E.
Walter—
Sir Wal.
Thou shalt not speak—I will not hear thee
It would degrade thee answering such a doubt.
If thou desire thy chamber's privacy,
Thou shalt not even seem to ask my licence—
No, not a word; I will not listen! This
Is all the poor return that I can make.
Lady E.
(placing her hand in his)
Walter! I never had a thought or wish
29
I could not look thus fearless in thy face,
And meet thy confidence.
Sir Wal.
I know it, dear one!
Forgive, forget my folly. We have wasted
Too thriftlessly a crowd of precious moments;
For every moment's precious when with thee.
Come, thou shalt lead me to each favourite haunt,
And teach me what remains of Paradise
Earth still can boast, when love sits smiling there.
Come, Eveline! (leads her off, R. 1 E.)
Jabez.
(advancing)
Fool! Idiot! Ass! She winds him
As pliant as a silken thread about her,
And foils me still. Can nothing—ha! the window;
I never thought of that. It may be open,
And I may reach them so. I'll make the attempt.
Exit, R. 1 E.
Scene Second.
—The Bower Chamber (as in Scene Second of First Act)—Daylight.Lord Arden discovered walking about.
Lord A.
It's very entertaining: but I wonder
Wherein this differs from a prison! only
Excepting in the article of food,
Which really's very decent. Memorandum—
Always be good friends with the housekeeper;
My constant maxim. But a prisoner
I am, to all intents, locked in my cell—
Hem! (looking round)
Something better, too, than bare stone walls;
Yet there's a plague even in that. I've heard
Of captives who have made themselves amusement
With toads and spiders. No such luck for me!
I've searched through every corner for a spider;
But meddling housemaids have not left me one!
The door, L. 2 E., is heard to unlock; it then opens—enter Maud with a basket, and carefully locks the door after her.
Ha, my sweet Maud! Why, in this very instant,
I longed—I pined for thee! (taking her hand)
30
(demurely)
'Tis like, your lordship
Felt carnal cravings of the inward man
For worldly things. (pointing to the basket—she brings forward the table and spreads the cloth)
Lord A.
A truce with canting, Maud!
It is not fit for rosy lips like thine.
Maud.
(as before)
In verity,
Unless we exercise the gifts we have,
Our graces will grow rusty.
Lord A.
Say you so?
There then! (kisses her)
Maud
(R. C.)
Good gracious! La! My lord!
Lord A.
(C.)
You know,
Except we exercise our gifts, good Maud,
Our graces will grow rusty. Ha, ha, ha!
I have not had so sweet a kiss these six months.
Maud.
(aside)
Nor I.
Lord A.
In sooth, good Maud, I'm almost crazed
For want of occupation. Even the pastime
A prisoner finds in peeping through the bars,
I am forbid.
Maud.
Why, if you would not have
A musquetoon be levelled at your head,
I should not recommend it. For heaven's sake
Never approach the window.
Lord A.
I regard it
At most respectful distance—as I saw there
A troop of Ironsides! Pest on it, Maud!
Is there no cock-boat will put out for France?
Will the wind never change? It's like a woman,
Flitting round all the points, when you would fix it.
Maud.
Ay, like your mistress.
Lord A.
Only constant when
It holds you fast, and you would give the world
To change it—
Maud.
Like your wife—Exactly so!
Lord A.
I've wandered round this chamber, till I've learnt
Each stitch in all the tapestry by heart—
I'll tell you to a pane, how many squares
Are in that casement. I have reckoned up
31
I had some thoughts of numbering the nails—
In short, I've nothing left, but making love,
And none to love but thee!
Maud.
(shewing the basket)
Yes, here's a rival!
Lord A.
Psha! The bright ruby of thy lips—
Maud.
Is nothing to this full flask of burgundy.
Lord A.
Thy hand—
Maud.
Not half as tempting as a pigeon's leg,
That's in this pie.
Lord A.
Thy round and buxom form— (putting his arm round her)
Maud.
Mere nothing to the crust (crosses, L.)
Lord A.
I swear to thee—
Maud.
(gets chair)
Thou'rt very hungry, so sit down and feed!
Lord A.
(at table)
Thou art a sage, and know'st the the heart of man—
I honour thee, sweet Maud! Here's to thy health!
(sits.—Jabez appears at window, and seeing them, starts)
Maud.
(L., sees Jabez, who instantly disappears—screams)
Ha!
Lord A.
(starting up)
What's the matter?
Maud.
I—I thought I saw
Something—that window— (Lord Arden is going to the window, when Maud stops him)
Are you mad, my lord?
Stand back! (goes and looks out)
No; there seems nothing—it was fancy.
But, to make doubly sure, I'll go myself,
And see outside. (going, L. 2 E.)
Lord A.
(stopping her at the door)
Maud—Maud! one moment. (kisses her)
Maud.
Fie, then!
Exit, L. 2 E.
Lord A.
Only to keep my graces from the rust—
Excellent, Maud! I drink thy health again.
(snatching a glass from the table—Maud pops her head on, and Arden starts from table to run after her)
END OF THE SECOND ACT.
| The Wife's Secret | |