University of Virginia Library

ACT IV.

Scene.—Drawing-room, as in Act III.
Enter Thorold and Llaniston.
Thor.
Nay, friend! a truce to jesting. You, indeed,
Propose to marry her.

Llan.
[Sitting.]
Asked like a guardian!
Do you indeed propose? To think now, Thorold,
You should turn out her guardian. Yes, we marry,
That is, with your consent, if she decides so.

Thor.
Then she yet doubts?

Llan.
She bade me wait her answer
Soon in the library. [Looking at his watch.]
Cupid and Hymen,
'Tis near the hour!

[Rising.
Thor.
[With indignant surprise.]
You trifle!

Llan.
Don't object
To my poor Cupid. He's a comelier god
Than Miss Blake swears by—Plutus!

Thor.
How?

Llan.
You know
Your ward so little? She has a sparkling eye,
But shrewder than 'tis bright. Sir, by her sex
Nature has spoiled a lawyer. There be women
Who shine in drawing rooms; some captivate
On horseback; some are irresistible
In kitchens; but her sphere's a pleader's chambers!
Some charmers lure by dress; some melt by music;
Some, with the imperious lightnings of their eyes,
Effect a breach in hearts; some awe by learning;
She's none of these; her forte's arithmetic.
You should have heard my wooing
An hour back. “Anne, behold me at your feet,”
I cried.—“You'll give me hope?” What was her answer?
Straight to the point. She asked my yearly income—
Net—after all deductions; if indeed
I were a peer's next heir; would live in London,
Take her to court, mix with the world, and see
She matched its proudest—for all which perhaps
She'd give me a wife's duty. As for love,
I must omit that trifle.

Thor.
Well!

Llan.
I promised.
Her frankness suits me. I prefer a hand
Labelled for sale, to one that coyly slides
Into your palm, and tingles for your purse.

Thor.
[Energetically.]
It shall not be!

Llan.
It shall, if she consent.
My truth's engaged to it. Are you a rival,
That you would thwart me?

Thor.
No; for me love's spark
Glows not within her breast; but, sir, I knew
And loved her father. When in India,
One high in rule aspersed my soldier name,
His honest, fearless pen disproved the lie,
And won me back that amulet true souls
Must wear or perish—honour! We grew friends,
Heart friends, until he died—most poor—most noble!
I'd save his child from sin.

Llan.
Sin!

Thor.
That black sin
Which vows what the heart shrinks from. You have said
She loves you not.

Llan.
You're warm, I find, sir. Time
Cuts short this conference.

[He bows coldly, and goes out.
Thor.
Nay, I follow, then.
Anne, Anne, whom I so loved—my once betrothed!
I bear thy loss; but could I bear thy shame?

[He follows Llaniston out.
Enter Sir Joshua, Lady Toppington, and Anne.
Sir J.
But hear me, my dear niece!

Anne.
Leave me, Sir Joshua!
You may trust me, madam.

Lady T.
You'll give full consent
To Llaniston's suit?

Anne.
I've said it.

Sir J.
Quick, consent, dear Anne,
Say, quick! My maxim is, “Secure the bird
While the lime's fresh.” 'Twas so I won your aunt.
Ha, ha! You'll heed my maxim?

Anne.
If you'll leave me
To ponder it.

Sir J.
And, further, niece, don't tell him
You take him for his money. Men don't like it.
Truth isn't told at all times, and in courtship
One never tells it.

Anne.
Yet that very truth
I'll tell unless you leave me.

Lady T.
[Apart to Sir Joshua.]
You'll spoil all.

Sir J.
I'm not at ease. She'll change her mind, and Llaniston
Call in his mortgage.—One more word, and then
I'll go indeed. You're sure you'll not relent,
And marry Thorold? Thorold, who despised
The poor dependant!

Anne.
Listen! By each good
Men value,—by what gold or a lord's smile
Is to your heart, or pride to my own crushed heart,
Or prayers to dying lips,—I take my vow,
Poor and dependant, never to wed Thorold!

Lady T.
There, there, be satisfied. That vow would bind her
Though her life paid it. Come!

Sir J.
Farewell, dear niece!
You'll be discreet, now?

Lady T.
[Forcing him off.]
Come!

Sir J.
A quick consent.
You'll give a quick consent,—you'll heed my maxim,
“While the lime's fresh,”—ha, ha!

[Goes out in glee with Lady Toppington.
Anne.
[Looking after them.]
Were my mind less fixed,
'Twould swerve revolted from the path you travel.
No matter now. One impulse, like the glare
Of a volcano inwards, lights my soul,
And shows it its own nature—fire and stone.
My tears, that burned like lava when they fell,
Like that congeal to rock. One hope, one aim,
One pulse of life,—that I, the poor, abased,
Deserted outcast, by my will and brain
Rise to far heights of power, of woman's power,
To dazzle and enslave! Then he may feel
I had the strength to rule; I might have had
The strength to love and bless!—Now to my fate.

As she advances to door, Thorold re-enters and confronts her.
Thor.
Stay, Anne! Where would you go?

Anne.
To the library.

Thor.
Upon what errand?

Anne.
[With haughty coldness.]
Sir!

Thor.
You doubt my right to question?—I'm your guardian.

Anne.
But not my jailer; 'tis my will to pass;
You block my way.

Thor.
And is it I alone
That block your way? Are there no crowding shapes
Such as the soul sees—youth's sweet instincts gazing
With sorrow-stricken faces, memory, conscience—
To warn you from the gulf?

Anne.
I've not the brain
To solve a riddle, nor the time.

Thor.
Then wait,
And hear me solve it. Your way leads to Llaniston,
And you'd accept his suit.

Anne.
[After a pause.]
You're right. Such is
My way and purpose. Shall I pass?

Thor.
Not yet.

Anne.
I must, save force should bar me: quit my path!

Thor.
You fear to hear me speak, then?

Anne.
Fear! No, speak!
[She sits, and coldly motions him to proceed: a pause.
What's your theme?

Thor.
Guilt! You would marry, yet deny the love
Makes wedlock sacred.

Anne.
Do you boast heaven's right to judge the heart?

Thor.
No.—Have I misjudged yours? Say that, and go!

Anne.
I'll pay the forfeiture of my own deed.

Thor.
Do you know that forfeit?

Anne.
Count it, if you will,
And then see if I shrink.

Thor.
Count what she forfeits
Who weds and gives no heart! I'll try, though words,
Which figure outward loss, appraise not ruin
In things immortal. First, she forfeits truth;
She forfeits womanhood in love, its essence;
Cuts off earth's blessed commerce with the skies;
Profanes all sacred forms; makes home a sound,
The temple an exchange, the shrine a counter,
The grave a common sod, where never kneels
Love that points upward!

Anne.
[Aside.]
And this thing he made me!—
The peril's on my head.

[Half rising.]
Thor.
And would you brave
What freezes me to tell? Hear my last plea;
Then as you will. Alas! no parent's voice
May warn—implore! I'd speak of yours, I'd tell you
Why you ne'er knew a father.

Anne.
Speak.

Thor.
You know already
How toil brought sickness, sickness poverty;
How—bowed in mind and frame—your father sat
By his cold hearth, yet from one faithful breast
Drew warmth and hope. Before him knelt his wife,
Your mother!

Anne.
Well!

Thor.
He loved her, as they only
Can love who suffer—loved her, soul and form!
Her form was as the crystal to the light;
Her soul—the light that filled it. Yet they parted!
Those twin lives broke, and blent on earth no more!

Anne.
What parted them?

Thor.
Well asked! What could? Not want,—
They had quaffed it to the dregs, and in its cup
Pledged love anew; not exile,—where he stood
Was home to her; not chains,—her faithful tears
Had rusted them to free him; not the seas,—
They had foundered on one plank; not Iceland snows,—
You had tracked her footfall there! All these, men brave
For Gold; why, Love had mocked them!

Anne.
Tell me, then,
What severed them?

Thor.
They had a child, an infant.
Famine was at their threshold. For their child
Those true hearts quailed. They sought your uncle's aid.
He offered shelter to the wife and babe—
Denied it to the husband!

Anne.
And my father?

Thor.
Strained
Your mother to his breast, as though that strain
Could lock out time and death, till soon their eyes
Lit on the form that clung for life to hers;
They saw its wan, pinched cheek, the blight of want
Creep on their blossom;—they could save it! He
With one long kiss, till their souls met, again
Embraced his wife, unwound his beggared arms,
And said, “Wife, go!”—And, for her child, she went!

Anne.
[Aside.]
I must quit or yield.

[She rises.
Thor.
[Detaining her.]
You were that child!—for you
They wrenched the bent of life—slid from the raft
That buoyed their fainting limbs, that you might ride
The sorrows where they sunk!

Anne.
Cease!

Thor.
Will you pay
That mighty debt by sin?—a sin that mocks
The love they worshipped! See, your mother speaks—
She pleads—look in her face!

[Snatches the miniature from his breast, and places it in her hand.
Anne.
Her face!—that portrait
My mother's face?

Thor.
Even so.

Anne.
My mother, mother!

[She bursts into tears, and sinks on her knees, reverently pressing her lips to portrait; Thorold gazes on Anne with deep emotion, and goes out.