University of Virginia Library

SCENE I.

—SIR GEORGE HALLERTON'S HOUSE IN LONDON.
Sir George and Laura, who is engaged in writing.
SIR GEORGE.
Out on my haste to bring her back to town,
Where every moment, pompous in its trifle,
Thrusts daily back the urgent suit of prudence. (Aside.)

What humour's this? A robe so negligent,
And look so listless, mock the time. Anon
Your suitor and the marriage contract wait you,
As I appointed.

LAURA
(looking up).
Brother! to be wed
Six weeks' hence, for your pleasure, not mine own,
I yielded. Of the time I bate no second.
I've occupation.

SIR GEORGE.
All my anxious pains
Foiled by her whim! (Aside.)
Laura!

LAURA.
Before you go,
Pray you that footstool.

SIR GEORGE.
Nay; no trifling! Girl,
Must I entreat thee sign to-night?

LAURA.
Do not;
I grieve to wound entreaty.

SIR GEORGE.
I'll command thee!

LAURA.
You may expend your breath so if you please,
'Twill prove a poor investment.

SIR GEORGE.
Fool!

LAURA
(still writing).
You're civil.
I'm puzzled here to round a compliment:
Will you instruct me?

SIR GEORGE.
Mince not words for me!
I'm but your brother. You perform divinely;
But we're just now behind the curtain.

LAURA.
Else
I'd blush for you. (Resuming her letter.)

“Dear Duchess, I accept”—

SIR GEORGE
(seizing her hand).
“Dear Duchess”—nay, I'll not be rude. The Duchess
Admires thee much!

LAURA.
I'm flatter'd.

SIR GEORGE.
Magnified!
A toast, a rage, an all-ascendant star
In fashion's sky!

LAURA.
You're bounteous.

SIR GEORGE.
This may change.
You may lose admiration.

LAURA.
Not this year. (Surveying herself in a mirror).


SIR GEORGE.
This night, fair sister; save that contract's signed!
Yes, I'm quite calm.

LAURA.
Sir George, I'll take the chance.

SIR GEORGE.
There is none, Madam.

LAURA.
Then the certainty.
This man I love not. In ungarded hour
Thou didst persuade me!

SIR GEORGE.
In this guarded hour
I must do so. Refuse me;—into air
Dissolve these stately domes, these pictur'd walls;
These velvet floors. The sky's thy roof, the bound
Of thy new home—the horizon! Thou shalt tread
For carpet—stones and shingles! Nay; believe
A prodigal's confession.

LAURA.
Brother!

SIR GEORGE.
Add—
My honour, too, depends on thy compliance.

LAURA.
Explain.

SIR GEORGE.
I will. Our all surrendered, I remain
Large debtor to my friends. How came this recks not.
'Twas folly—madness! Temple proffers thee
An ample portion. Thou must save me, sister!

LAURA.
He knows it? (after an enquiring pause.)
No? oh, brother!

SIR GEORGE.
Hear me, Laura.
For this last refuge I have schemed, toil'd, borne,
And forborne,—check'd my passion, worn my thought,
Belied my nature! 'Twas my skill that foil'd
His lowly love for Florence.

LAURA.
Ha!—proceed.
He loved her! That I knew not—deem'd on him
She practised wiles. Thou said'st so.

SIR GEORGE.
No; their love
Bore a long date. One hour her coldness stung him,
I press'd the advantage; urged him by his honour
To ratify, in words, the vows his acts
Had pledged thee long before.

LAURA.
A worthy plot!
How feel'st thou, Sir? Elate? And here's the key
To Temple's change. His heart's remorse hath bred
This reveller's spirit in him. Worthy deed!

SIR GEORGE.
'Twas a base deed. I loathe it. Yet no choice
Between this secret shame, and infamy
For common eyes to gloat on! Yet not I
Alone sway'd Temple's mind. Perchance this rumour
That Florence's name too closely links with Thornton's
Had its effect.

LAURA.
How!

SIR GEORGE.
Know'st thou not 'tis said
He boasts another triumph in— (hesitating.)


LAURA.
Her shame!
The word is easy to pronounce; why pause?
Shame! shame! a very easy word. Oh! shame,
Shame on the villain; on his echo shame!

SIR GEORGE.
What I report I did not mean to vouch,
I do not pledge its truth.

LAURA.
Oh, do you not?
Except perhaps by silence. Who permits,
Authenticates a slander. Temple knew it!
I'll not believe he knew it. To the earth
He'd dashed the liar! Did she love for this?

SIR GEORGE.
You prate too much of love for one whose life
Hath made a jest of't.

LAURA.
And who taught me? Who
Ploughed up my generous shoots of early faith,
But could not mine their root; for know, my heart
Still cleaves to him you bade my lips disown.
You crush'd the flowers of life; behold its tares!
Its soil is vital and must quicken! You
Should not have said this.

SIR GEORGE.
But you'll sign this contract?

LAURA.
Never!

SIR GEORGE.
You'll see our father's name disgraced?

LAURA.
How flows
His blood in thee—heir of his name, not blood?
In me it speaks. I'd be an outcast, drudge,
Kiss Fortune's scourge, ere lock up in my heart
Such shame to him who gave it power to throb.

SIR GEORGE.
Now, sister, save me or destroy me! For
I will not live scorn's mark and finger point.
I will not—know me sister! Read my face!
I will not. So decide. (Going.)


LAURA.
Stay!

SIR GEORGE.
You require
An hour for thought, I give it.

[He goes out.
LAURA.
Oh, the strait
Where error drives us! Save a brother's fame
And life by shame! Not shame! Once Temple's wife,
I'd be so duteous, tender.—Ah, returns
The thought of Florence! Thrive upon the spoil
Torn from her breast! Not that! Still loves she him?
(With sudden resolution.)
I'll see her, prove her! If she love, I'm firm.

[She goes out.