 | The Patrician's Daughter |  |
ACT IV.
SCENE I.
Same as Scene I., Act III.Enter Lister, Heartwell, Deancourt, and Colville.
Lis.
The marriage, then, takes place at noon to-morrow?
Col.
'Twill be a royal festival.
Heart.
For me,
I never looked within these ancient walls
For welcome as a guest, far less as one
Summoned to Mordaunt's marriage.
Dean.
It is strange,
After his sharp repulse—'tis now five years since—
He should renew his suit and win. We all
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And taunts that followed it.
Heart.
All which he owed
To Lady Lydia, his aunt elect.
She told the farce—so then she called his suit—
With such malicious wit, 'twas London's jest.
Scarce any one dared know him. It amazed me
To see him, thus the mark for public scorn,
Calmly outbrave it, give his mind entire
To public duties, daily gathering friends,
Until his strength so grew, the Earl conceded
All our demands; then sought him for a son.
Col.
The Minister, and not the father, sought him.
Lis.
Proceeds the match with Lady Mabel's will?
Heart.
Her cold and pensive carriage testify
In this she only brooks her father's choice.
Not ours to scan too nicely. Pass we on:
The Lady Lydia and her nephew come.
Enter Lady Lydia and Captain Pierpoint.
[Bows to Lady Lydia.]
Fine weather and fair promise for to-morrow.
Lyd.
Fair as our brightest hopes are, gentlemen.
[Lister, Heartwell, Deancourt, and Colville go out.
Lyd.
You know already
These are the members of a factious clique
Mordaunt has brought to notice of the Earl.
Pier.
You scarce bear Mordaunt better will than I.
Lyd.
We do not idolise our future kinsman.
Pier.
Who won his way, no doubt, by artifice
And smooth insinuation?
Lyd.
No; the truth,
Though bitter, must be granted. Haughtily
He trod his separate path. Alone, he forced
His way to power and rank. My brother bought
His service by concessions, claimed the more;
The more were granted. Out of weakness grew
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This union was offered, almost pressed,—
It costs a pang to own it, by the Earl.
Had I been he!—but this is folly.
Pier.
What
Intend you now?
Lyd.
To bear what can't be shunned.
When first my brother named this humbling contract,
I wrote to Mordaunt, asked an interview,
And wrought him to belief that Mabel's heart
Shrank from this union, though her hand, indeed,
Obeyed her father. This looked plausible;
For a still pensive mood has ruled her late—
Seldom dispersed, and then for reckless mirth.
Pier.
So he believes she never loved him?
Lyd.
Fully.
In proof of which he's seldom here; and then
He greets her distantly. He pressed the marriage
With most indelicate haste; no time for wooing,
Little for preparation. A proud alliance
Bribed him, and not a heart.
Pier.
[Indignantly.]
Aunt!
Lyd.
[Interrupting.]
Since we're conquered,
Let's even make the best of it. Here come
A group of bland nonentities.
Enter Lord and Lady Chatterly, Sir Archer, and Lady Taunton.
Ah, good friends!
With smiling faces as befits the time.
Lord C.
Dear Lady Lydia,
We share your happiness in seeing it.
Lyd.
You're good to say so. Happiness like mine
Grows by participation.
Sir A.
Lady Mabel
Has positively had no mercy on us—
Her wit's so brilliant, pungent, piercing and—
[Hesitates.
Lord C.
Truly enchanting.
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'Tis benevolence
In you to call it so; for 'twas indulged
Greatly at your expense.
Lady T.
Nay! that's severe.
Sir A.
A little too severe, but in plain truth,
Mordaunt's much to be envied.
Lyd.
Surely, not
More than my niece.
Lady T.
Mordaunt!—Is he connected
With the old family in Devonshire.
Lyd.
This gentleman is of a race whose rise
Is far more ancient.—But 'tis near the hour
My brother named to read the marriage-deed.
[All are about to go.
Enter Mabel.
Your pardon for a moment; I'll soon follow.
[Guests and Pierpoint go out. She advances to meet Mabel.
Nay, be of better cheer. Should one betrothed
Upon her bridal-eve look downcast thus?
A strange foreboding shadow clouds your brow,
I marked not ere this wooing. O my child!
Carry it gaily; go among your guests;
Be liberal of your smiles, free of your mirth,
As one should be upon the verge of joy.
Mab.
Believe me, I have striven to do my best,
Nor quite in vain; nay, heard you not yourself
Our sprightly jests, as I led forth the train
Through the wood's maze? Oh, we were very gay!
Lyd.
I was not unobservant of your mirth;
It did not please me, Mabel; it was strained,
Abrupt—wanted tranquility; your tones
Were quicker than belong to quiet joy;
Your smiles not such as peace serenely wears.
Mab.
You are right; and I, it seems, am not so skilled
As I had thought in artifice. Yes, aunt!
There is a care lies heavy at my heart.
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Confide it, love!
Mab.
I fear that time has changed him.
Lyd.
You mean Sir Edgar?
Mab.
Ay: 'tis even so.
Lyd.
Despite of which, your love still perseveres?
Mab.
True love, though tender, is immortal too—
Easy to wound, incapable of death.
Not that he has at any time been harsh,
At least in words; but that to me seems stern
Which others might not deem so. Public cares
Leave him few hours for converse, and in those
He speaks me formally. Then I grow cold,
And proudly hide my heart. I know I'm blameful
To tell you this; but then I have no mother,
Whose voice might solace weakness or reprove it.
Lyd.
Alas! sweet niece, you merit better fate.
Mab.
Why say so, aunt? I have in nought accused him
Except in change; such change as comes like growth,
Sure but unnoted.
Lyd.
But you kept my counsel,
Avoided all recurrence to the past?
Mab.
We have not spoken of it. Much I fear
It steals upon his memory, and clouds
The sunshine of his love.
Lyd.
I would fain hope
The best, dear Mabel. You did well at least
In keeping silence; but we shall be late.
You know your father's wishes are to grace
Your nuptials with all ceremony, whence
This public reading of the marriage treaty.
Would I could bribe those lips to smile. Come, love!
[They go out.
Enter Mordaunt, looking after them.
Mor.
'Tis she. What sad reluctance in her step!
The conscious victim in each gesture speaks.
True, true, confirmed by many a certain sign,
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And curbs her loathing at her father's will,
Whose interest and ambition force her hand—
His child's hand—to the man she spurned before,
And yet despises. Shame that to my breast
They bind a form that inwardly recoils!
There's the one drop that overflows the cup,
And makes endurance treason to mankind!
She turns within. What witchery of grace!
Proud scorner, I could love thee, spite of scorn!
Ill fits this mood the time. Hence, yielding self;
No private weakness now. No! though each word
Were coined in fires that fed upon my heart,
I'd speak their rights whom nature crowns and man's
Poor pride would crush. So, lady, heart, take heart!
Thy cause I champion here, no less than mine,
And haste to snatch thee from my father's doom!
Enter Servant.
Ser.
My lord, sir, seeks your presence.
Mor.
Does he so?
I will attend him instantly; I come.
[Mordaunt and Servant go out.
SCENE II.
Library as before.Earl of Lynterne, Mordaunt, Heartwell, Lister, Colville, Deancourt, Pierpoint, Lady Lydia, Lady Mabel, Lord and Lady Chatterly, Sir Archer and Lady Taunton, and other Wedding Guests, with Solicitor, enter and take places.
Earl.
Good friends, assembled here to confer honour
Upon the near espousals, I beseech
Your kind attention while this gentleman
Reads in your hearing the accustomed deed
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Of such as stand affianced.
[Solicitor is about to rise.
Mor.
[Rising.]
My Lord Lynterne,
And guests who grace us with your presence here,
I've that to say, which 'twere unseasonable
To broach at any later stage than this.
Deem you not me much honoured, who have sprung
From lineage obscure, in this alliance
With a most noble lady, who can trace
An ancestry which from the Conqueror's time
Has never mingled blood with churl's before?
Lyd.
[Aside.]
What frantic scheme has this man now to compass?—
You're modest, sir, and underrate your birth.
Mor.
Not so. My father was a man of toil;
I mean real toil, such toil as makes the hand
Uncouth to sight, coarse, hard to the touch;
There are none here who would have clasped that hand
Save at our borough contests, when all fingers
Grew marvellously pliant.
Lyd.
Well this frankness
Becomes a noble mind! How great it is
To rise by our desert from lowliness,
And blush not at its memory!
Omnes.
Most noble!
Dean.
[To Heartwell apart.]
I understand not this.
Heart.
There's meaning in it.
Mor.
You would do honour then, good friends, to him
Who from obscurity should win his way
To eminence and power?
Lord C.
Such men adorn their country!
Sir A.
Their merit
Transcends all praise!
Lyd.
They are earth's master spirits!
Mor.
Then had you known one such in his first years
Of effort, you had aided him—at least,
Given him encouragement, showed him respect?
Lady C.
Respect most due!
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Decidedly! Who doubts it?
Mor.
You had been just, and had not plotted then
Against his peace, nor baited with such smiles
As the heart loves to feed on, the dire poison
Of wanton, causeless scorn?
Lyd.
Why ask them this, knowing that they would not?
Lady C.
Who would be guilty of such crime?
Lady T.
Oh, no one!
Mor.
But did such live, what should be their desert?
Earl.
You trespass, sir, too much upon the time
Of this high company. Methinks 'twere well
The lawyer should proceed.
Mor.
I am indifferent.
Earl.
Mean you to wed my daughter?
Mor.
[Turning fiercely on him.]
No!
[All rise in surprise.
Pier.
Malignant viper! you shall dearly pay
The debt of this disgrace.
Mor.
Yet hold awhile.
If you accuse me, grant me the same rights
That all accused enjoy. Hear my defence!
That over, I will bide whatever shape
Your anger wills to take.
Earl.
Begone, sir!—leave us, while contempt stills wrath.
Mab.
I do beseech you hear him. I am curious
To learn what sins of my commission urged
To deed so pitiful. If I had wronged—
Lord C.
Even then it was most pitiful revenge.
Lady C.
Most pitiful retort!
Lady T.
Most infamous!
Lyd.
But still consistent with his character?
Chorus of Voices.
Oh yes, yes, yes! With his—past doubt!
Mor.
Why, see now,
How much your expectations mock your acts!
You sow the heart with bitterness, and marvel
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Is what you give man, and the angel's meekness
Is what you demand from him! 'Tis five years
Since this same Lady Mabel lured my soul
With such soft phrases and such winning words
As only leave the words “I love” unsaid.
'Twas not my vanity that thus construed
These signs of tenderness. The Lady Lydia
Noted their import; duped me with feigned proofs,
To think my love returned—
Pier.
Audacious!
Lyd.
[Scornfully.]
Hear him!
Mor.
Deluded thus, I straightway sought the Earl,
Entreated his permission to be ranked
As Lady Mabel's suitor; when it pleased her
Smilingly to admit that she had toyed
With me, to while away an idle hour.
I hasted home. In a few days the tale
Of my crushed love was blazoned to the world!
A proud heart's honest passion woke to life,
By specious smiles and studied blandishments,
But to be trampled on—the deep excess
Of passionate devotion—charm of day,
And dream of night, and hope of life—it was—
It was all this to me—blown, published, chorused
In the quick ear of scoffers! This low churl,
This foiled plebeian aspirant, supplied
Mirth for a thousand jesters. What presumption
In him to love thus! Mark! Years passed; that churl
Rose to power's summit. From his arms still shrank
The loved one of his youth. A father's law
Now forced her struggling hand, and bade him take
The victim, where he once had hoped the wife!
Pier.
No more, I say!
Mor.
For once be men and women.
Have you loved ever? known what 'tis to stake
Your heart's whole capital of blessedness
Upon one die, the chance of love returned?
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And hear scorn's pack pursue you; cheered by those
Who tempted but to ruin? “Stay,” you cry;
“Your case is changed since then!” By what? “Success.”
Success! I cast it off. [To Lady Lydia and the Earl.]
Madam—my lord
Here in your stately halls; here where your robes
Of blazoned memories thickly fold you in;
I stand—God's common work, a naked heart—
To say, the prize that lured, then scorned my love,
I scorn to take in barter for success!
Earl.
Enough, sir! You have had your vengeance. Hence!
Mor.
I have not sought for vengeance in this act.
My life, my energies, my talents, all
Were meant for nobler uses than belong
To a mere private feud; but I have fought
A battle for high principles, and taught
Convention, when it dares to tread down man,
Man shall arise in turn and tread it down!
As for this lady—she has never loved me,
Nor have I lately sought to win her love;
I would not wreak on her such wretchedness
As she caused me for pastime. I have done.
My errand is fulfilled.
[Going.
Pier.
You go not thus!
Mab.
[Rushing forward and arresting him with great agitation.]
Upon your life,
Injure him not! Stir not a step I say!
[Mordaunt regards her earnestly.
He is not worthy of it.
[Mordaunt goes out followed by Heartwell and Deancourt.
[In the interval between the Fourth and Fifth Acts the season changes from Summer to Autumn.]
| The Patrician's Daughter | |