First Performed at the Royal Olympic Theatre, on Monday, May 14th 1855.
Period . —1851
Scene —1st and 3rd Act, Mildmay's villa at Brompton, drawing-room opening to conservatory; 2nd Act, Scene 1, Mrs. Sternhold's breakfast parlour; Scene 2, Captain Hawksley's Office.
Time Of Representation.—1st Act, 50 minutes; 2nd Act, 36 minutes; 3rd Act, 25 minutes.
Suppose, Emily, you gave us a little music.
Music ! Nonsense ! That you may have the opportunity of snoring without detection, Mr. Mildmay ?
I thought, perhaps, Emily might indulge me with "Auld Robin Gray."
"Auld Robin Gray!" Now, aunt, only conceive his asking for a stupid old melody like that.
You used to like playing it to me before we were married.
Before we were married! When you know I adore Beethoven.
To appreciate Beethoven, Emily, requires a soul for music : Mr. Mildmay has no soul for music.
No, no, John, you know you havn't. You've no soul for anything.
Very well. By-the-bye, Emily, what do you say to a quiet little dinner at Richmond, to-morrow ?
It's quite out of the question, Mr. Mildmay; I can't allow Emily to go. I've issued invitations for a dinner here.
Oh ! I thought, as it was the anniversary of our wedding-day, Emily, you might like a têtê a têtê with me at the Star and Garter.
But you hear it's quite impossible, and that my aunt has made a party at home.
Very well; I shan't be missed, I dare say. I shall probably dine at my club.
On the anniversary of your wedding day! I'm surprised you should not see the want of proper feeling, the indecency, I may say, of such an arrangement I shall certainly expect you to dine with us.
As you please.
Is it such a tax to give us half an hour of your company after dinner?
Of course, aunt, if Mr. Mildmay prefers his vegetables to our company, I should be the last person in the world to detain him.
If you wish me to stay with you, Emily, you've only to say so.
Oh, it's perfectly indifferent to me.
I'm sure your wife would be the last person to thwart your wishes.
Oh, I've no particular wish on the subject. I can make myself comfortable here.
My poor child! But don't distress yourself about him. Suppose you give
With pleasure. What shall I play you?
Anything you like.
Well, Emmy, why don't you go on ?
Dear me, aunt,
Well, but sister—
I beg we may have no discussion on the matter, brother Potter. I hate discussion. Emily has very good reason to be angry—not a year married yet. However, there's one comfort, niece, you might be a great deal worse off.
Worse off! Now, aunt, what could be worse than a husband without the least spirit, life, enthusiasm—not enough to keep himself awake, even, through a sonata of Beethoven ?
Pooh, pooh, child, what do
Yes, aunt, but I hate taking trouble. I want a husband to interest me, to share my feelings, to invest life with something of poetry—of romance.
Nonsense! Poetry and romance are not half such safe investments as the three per cents.
Oh, look! there's a wasp, right on Mildmay's nose. I'll kill it.
It was only a wasp. I missed it.
Oh, thank you. Don't try to kill the next, please. Of the two, I'd rather be stung.
No, I'm going into my own room.
Oh! then I'll go and earth up the celery.
To-night! Why you. never said a word about it till now.
No. Why should I ? I shall return by the express to-morrow. I shall see you again before I start.
Why, you're not going to bed—child, it's hardly nine o'clock.
Isn't it ? I'm sure the day's been long enough.
Tennyson! Nonsense! Always at that ridiculous poetry of yours.
Oh, aunt, if you knew the comfort it brings to my withered heart.
There's Mildmay,with his coat off, just like a common market gardener. Oh ! what a contrast to Hawksley ! Heigho !
Did I speak ? Did you hear ? Now Emily's gone, perhaps you will inform me, yes or no, whether you mean to do what I asked you to do before dinner ?
But, my dear sister, its impossible.
Nothing is impossible, brother Potter.
But you won't understand, that the settlement—
Settlement! Stuff and nonsense!
But, you will allow me to observe, it's anything but stuff and nonsense, sister. When Emily married, I settled eight thousand pounds on her, payable to the trustees, six months from the date of the settlement. That's eight months since, and I've not paid a farthing of the money yet.
And what of that, pray? She's your only child : all you have will be hers at your death.
At my death! Well, if there
Mr. Mildmay knows too well what is due to our position. to do anything of the kind. He's not at all keen in money matters ; that I must say for him.
No—that's it. It's just because he
Nonsense, brother! I don't wish for any discussion ; I only want an answer, yes or no. You've already invested one thousand pounds, in shares, in Captain Hawksley's Galvanic Navigation Company, and now he has very kindly offered you twenty more fifty pound shares, and I've promised you will take them up. You surely don't wish me to break my promise ?
Certainly not, sister, certainly not. It always gives me pleasure to carry out your wishes, but I really don't like to propose the thing to Mildmay.
And why should you say a word to him about it ? I suppose you can pay him the interest of the money. The Galvanic Navigation Company guarantees eight per cent.; you pay Mildmay five, and put three per cent, into your pocket by the transaction. You can't deny that.
Well, but this Galvanic Company you know—how can one tell it's quite safe:
Do you consider Captain Hawksley a gentleman ?
Oh, certainly my dear.
Do you think he would inveigle you into a dangerous speculation?
No, I don't believe he would, for a moment, but—
Then what have you to say ?
Well, my dear. I say—
Black, because I say white ! That's always the way. I wonder what
Well, I'm sure, sister, I always do end by agreeing with you.
Then why not begin with it ? It would save so much disagreeable discussion. Then I consider it settled —you take up these shares. The captain promised to call this evening—you can arrange the business with him when he comes.
Eh ! Hawksley coming here this evening?
Why, have you any objection ?
No, no, no ! He's a very clever fellow, Hawks ley—vastly agreeable —vastly—the sort of man one's always glad to see ; but still I should be just as well pleased not to see him here quite so often.
Indeed!
Oh, if you're going to lose your temper, sister—
Brother Potter, did you ever see me lose my temper?
No, no, my dear.
I wish to know what possible reason you have for objecting to Captain Hawksley's visits ?
I, sister ? I object ? On the contrary, I like him- I've every confidence in him, but—
Well ?
I don't quite like his coming here, on Emmy's account.
On Emily's account! Oh you may be perfectly easy on that score. I grant you that before her marriage he might have shown some penchant for Emily.
So much so that I always fancied, if it had not been for your setting your face against it, he and Emmy might have made a match of it.
Captain Hawksley was not at all the man for Emily. Besides, I'm sure she never had any fancy for him.
Perhaps not; but what I'm afraid of is, she may have some fancy for him now.
Brother Potter !
Oh, I know what I'm about, sister; they're afraid of you—nothing goes on when you are there ; but they don't mind me—and I've observed more than once—
Well— what—speak out—what have you observed ?
Well, but sister, don't excite yourself in that manner. You know it always, flies to your head. Emmy's your niece, its true—but after all—
No equivocation, brother! What have you observed ?
Well then, between ourselves, I've observed something—that is—a sort of—you know—in her manner with the captain, and in his manner with her—Emmy's romantic, and the captain insinuating and agreeable, and what you women call interesting—and, in short, sister, there's a sentimental sort of a—flirtation—going on between 'em already—platonic, I've no doubt, but there's no saying where that sort of thing may end—and I don't like it—and I've intended to talk to Emmy about it this ever so long—only I did'nt like to—
Exactly, sister, I thought I had
I tell you, brother, you had better leave it all to me. Hark! There's his cab !
I told you so. Now just see if she doesn't come down to receive him. Suppose we joined them ?
There's the postman with the evening paper, You know you are always anxious about the news. Go and enjoy your "Globe" in the library. Now will you oblige me by going ?
Can this be true, or is it my silly brother's fancy? Ha! as he said, Emily joins him—she
takes his arm—she leans upon it fondly,
Suppose I offered my heart on the same terms?
Captain Hawksley !
Forgive me ; I forgot this was London, and not Seville. I have lived so long in that land of poetry and passion, that my blood has learned its impetuosity, as my tongue its music. But you are offended. Can,you wonder if, when I see you unappreciated, respect gives way to sympathy.
Master's bag, ma'am. Shall I order a cab ma'am, to take him to the station ?
Mr. Mildmay is in the garden, Jessop; you had better ask him.
Is Mildmay going out of town?
To-night—so he told me half an hour ago, without a word of explanation, or an expression of regret at leaving me.
And to this man you are tied for life ! The law has made you his, and love has no rights in this cold, formal England. Oh, why may I not offer you that tenderness, that sympathy of which he is incapable ? I ask no more, only to love you. I seek no return of love.
Captain Hawksley, I must not listen to this.
Take care ; you know not of what a man is capable whose love-code has been learnt in the hot south where passion excuses boldness. Oh, were this but Seville ! Sweet Seville!
Well, suppose this were Seville?
Then I would insist upon your hearing an avowal of my love, when there should be none to interrupt us—at the dead of night—here!
You would not dare—
You had better not defy me ; ladies never do in Spain. At midnight I would be under your window.
Indeed! You would actually climb the garden wall!
What need for that when there's a door.
But who would open it ?
The duplicate key of the garden gate that my aunt lost last week !
It has been found, you see.
Then you took it ?
I did.
And you would dare to use it ?
This very night—if this were Seville.
Really, this is too absurd to be angry at.
I fear your displeasure more than anything in
Well, suppose admission secured to the garden, you forget Bran, the savage mastiff; he is let loose after dark.
You forget who gave him to you. Bran knows his old master.
And was it for this you made us a present of him ?
Precisely. We lay our plans well in Seville.
Well, suppose you have played the burglar, and Bran the traitor, what then ?
I advance on tip-toe—you always sit up late, reading in this room—you start! This room opens on the conservatory—the conservatory on the garden—
What then ?
Then when the moonlight trembled on the trees —when the night winds were hushed in the petals of the flowers—when all slept hut love—I would be at your side, breathing low words of passion, and you would listen.
There are means to make both useless.
Better and better ! I see you are determined to destroy my night's rest, at all events. I
shall be dreaming of nothing but burglary and assassination; imagining a bandit, duly masked,
cloaked, and dark-lanterned, breaking into the house, at the least noise,
And suppose others heard it besides me ? A glass door bolted inside cannot be forced without some noise.
But if the bolt be wanting ?
Good gracious!
Well?
You are mad, Captain Hawksley. Ha ! ha
Your aunt — pooh ! I'll take odds she's adorning to receive me—putting on the slightest
soupcon of rouge. It's extraordinary how some women will be young, in spite of
nature and their looking glasses.
No, no; you are too severe on poor auntie; she's a great admirer of yours, and if I keep you so long en tête-a-tête, she'll be jealous of me. Ha ! ha ! ha !
At least, let us walk round by the garden. I wish to congratulate Mildmay on his celery—and then it's so much longer.
The double-faced villain! Oh, Hawksley! Hawksley ! So, I wear rouge, do I ?—And false hair, of course—and artificial teeth too, I dare say. And Emily too ! They walk smiling in each other's faces. Thank Heaven! I'm not like that raw girl; I can master my emotion until the time comes, and then beware, Captain! You do not know the woman you have trifled with.
Rather a bore this journey to Manchester. I don't like
Magnificent celery! I congratulate you, my dear Potter, on so horticultual a son-in-law; it's a pursuit at once innocent and economical.,
Yes; I calculate every bundle costs only about twice as much as in Covent Garden.
Apropos—did Mrs. Sternhold mention to you that I'd allotted you fifty more galvanics ?
Ye—es—I think she did mention something of the kind.
There's twenty pounds paid up, you know ; I suppose I may rely on the money for to-morrow?
Why, you see, my dear Hawksley, I'm extremely obliged to you for letting me have the shares; but, the fact is, there's a leetle difficulty in the way. There is no making women understand money matters, not even my sister—she's a most superior woman, but she's rather of an irritable constitution; the slightest contradiction flies to her head. I'm sure she's a leetle upset at this moment, by a discussion we had together this evening on the subject of these very shares.
On the contrary—on the contrary. But, you see, all the ready money I can command, just now, is payable to the trustees under my daughter's settlement. In fact, it belongs not to me, but my son-in-law.
Why, Mildmay must be a greater fool, even, than I take him for, if he objects to an investment guaranteeing eight per cent.
Well, I'll tell you what. Let me propose it to Mildmay. If he agrees, it's settled—if not, you must settle the matter with Mrs. Sternhold; not that I have any objection to tell her, only contradiction does so fly to her head.
As you please.
And do you see Captain Hawksley ?
Oh, yes. I don't stand on ceremony with him. I'm sure the captain will allow me to finish my
job.
No — "Flatting"—that's the technical term.
Indeed ! A punster might be provoked into paying it was proper work for a flat.
Flat? Oh! I see. Very good—very good indeed. Would
No, thank you. I've no talent for the fine arts. Charming colour! isn't it, ladies ? One would say Mildmay had a natural eye for green.
You're very kind. Yes,—I think it's rather a success—and when the creepers come to be trained over it—
Why you don't suppose any creepers will be weak-minded enough to grow there ?
Why not? Parasites thrive uncommonly well in this house, you know, Captain.
Parasites!
That's the technical name for what you call creepers.
Ah.! I forgot how learned you were in the
A letter for me ?
Yes. I looked in at the Union, as I passed —there was a letter for you, so I brought it. It's from Manchester.
Well, now I've played postman, and done my devoirs to the ladies, I must be off.
Adieu, Captain !
No—not Adieu—Au revoir !
The unsuspecting fool! But I will watch for him and for myself. [
The cab's at the door, sir.
Very well. Put in my bag.
Good night, Emmy !
Oh! must you really go, John ? Don't go— not to-night ?
I must, my dear. I shall be back to-morrow. Why, what's the matter ? Your eyes are full of tears. Don't fret, there's a good girl. Good night.
I'm rather in a hurry.
Eh ? That's not what you wanted to say !
Eh ? Well—no—you're quite right, Mildmay, that wasn't what I wanted to say, though it's
quite true, all the same. But I want to talk to you on a
I know that.
Exactly. Well, it occurred to my sister, and me—that is, to me and my sister—that you might have no objection to investing some of the money, under Emmy's settlement, in Galvanics. It's a magnificent
speculation—perfectly safe—guarantees eight per cent., and so—to oblige her—I—I've been and taken fifty shares.
I know that.
Good gracious! Why you know everything!
Not everything.
But who could have told you I'd taken up the shares Captain Hawksley was kind enough to allot me ?
Captain Hawksley himself! He thought
Eh ? Has he been asking you to take shares, too?
Should you hare any objection to get rid of yours ?
Why, the fact is, it's been my sister's doing all along; and now she's undertaken for me to take fifty more shares, and, as they must be paid for out of the money due under Emmy's settlement, she thought you might have no objection to the arrangement, and, meanwhile, to take the interest of Emmy's money, instead of the principal.
I've not the slightest objection.
You havn't ?
In fact I've a few loose thousands of my own at my bankers, and as you tell me this speculation is such a good one, I should like to put a trifle into it myself, say six or eight thousand.
Risk six or eight thousand!
But they're not all my eggs; and then it's clear, from what you say, the basket's a strong one.
No doubt—no doubt. A magnificent speculation—as safe as the bank—but—
Well?
As a young married man, don't you think, now—a good safe mortgage—though it should only bring you in five per cent—
My dear Mr. Potter, if you think it a good investment, why try to dissuade me from it? If you think it a bubble, why have you put my wife's money into it ?
Eh? Well—but—Confound it!
Cabman says he can just save the mail train, sir
Very well. I'm coming.
Now for that letter.
Hark! the cab drives off!—Footsteps !—'Tis Emily!
Mr. Mildmay ! Husband ! Ha ! wheels ! It's too late !—It's too late ! Oh, I had made up my mind to tell him all—to own my folly—to ask his pardon. If Hawksley should be so rash—so wicked—so frantic, as to execute his threat, what will become of me ? But he dare not! Surely he dare not! But I will be bold. I will wait here, and if he dare come—but shall I ever have the courage — oh, I shall faint—I shall go mad!
Mrs. Mildmay !
Aunt Jane! How pale you are! What is the matter . Are you ill ? Shall I call my maid ?
What I have to say must be heard by none but you.
S. Emily, would to heaven your fault was one calling but for that childish correction: for though I punished, I might still esteem you.
What have I done that you dare speak so to me?
What have you done ?—You dare ask what you have done ? Do you think I'm blind ? Do you think you can hoodwink me, as you have done your doting father, and your clod of a husband ? I blush for you!
I do not understand you !
Oh, you do not understand me ! I must speak more plainly still, must I ? A man has addressed you as no man dares address a married woman, till he has ceased to respect her. Captain Hawksley is your lover!
It is false !
Is it ? To-night it may be; were I not here, would it be false to-morrow ? Is it false that
this man has a key to the garden door ? Is it false that tonight—in a few minutes, perhaps—he
may be at that window—in this room—at your feet ? Is that false ? Answer me !
You wait here !—what for?
To receive this man.
No—no!
Go!
Oh, you will not—
No remonstrance—go, I say !
Wonderful fellows, these detectives ! Gimlet had got the news as soon as I did; I came full
tilt upon him driving here at a gallop—we nearly smashed each other. Let me see, I must tell
Mrs. Sternhold at once, or she may be committing poor Potter still deeper with the follow:
she's an intelligent woman, and can keep a secret.
All is quiet—my brother and the servants asleep. Hark!
'Tis not Emily!
Your excitement makes you illogical. Allow me to observe that beggars don't ride, and that my cab is at the garden door.
Thanks to the poor dupes who pay for it, of whom I have been one too long.
You do us both injustice, my dear madam. You are too clever for a dupe — and I'm not clever enough—
For a rogue ? Excuse me—you have just the requisite amount of brains, but there is one quality you are deficient in.
And what may that be, pray ?
Prudence—or you would have foreseen tho danger of making me your enemy.
Allow me to offer you a chair.
You are here—and you
I understand. My presence in Mrs. Mildmay's boudoir is an unpardonable crime—there might have been an excuse for me had it been yours.
Yonder, in her own room. You love her?
Suppose I admit it ?
And you dare to tell
How lucky it's not a dagger!
We have a variety of slow poisons.
Clever as you are, you cannot give a woman a lesson in revenge. Trust the hate I feel for
you from this night. My weapon shall not be dagger or poison. You see those pieces ?
You positively alarm me ! Is it possible I can be so brittle ?
S. Laugh on till others laugh at
No—really—such a capital joke deserves to be laughed at.
Listen, Hawksley ! Because I have been weak, you have thought me blind. I have been your benefactress—yes, wince! I say, your benefactress—but in your eyes I was but one dupe the more. You did not know that a woman could love a man without esteeming him. From the first day I have known you, I have seen through you—your commission—your services—the credit you boast—the luxury you parade. I knew it all a lie—a shallow, transparent lie! You are nothing—you have nothing—
By Jove, madam—
Sit still. I have not done yet. I say, I knew you, and yet was weak enough to love you. That
love drew me on to serve your ends—blindly—devotedly—to give countenance to your
deceptions—credit to your lies : this is what I have done for you, and thus it is I am
rewarded. My blind love has made me thus guilty, and you—you, for whose sake I have done these
things— upbraid me with my weakness! Heaven is just! but 'tis bitter ! very bitter !
Don't cry ! You'll spoil your complexion!
At my fortune, I presume?
Your fortune ! I have but to let in the light upon its shameful secrets, and it crumbles to the ground.
But you won't let in the light
I have done so.
Really!
The money I had wrung from my brother for your speculation, and on which you rely to meet your engagements to-morrow, will not be paid.
Oh! at last!
He will not come.
Oh, yes he will.
I will forbid him.
And I forbid you to say a word to him in the matter! And woe to you if you breathe one syllable of my concerns to him, or any other living soul! You talk of my imprudence! have you forgotten your own ? You can ruin my fortune! True. But your own reputation—that reputation so intact—so awful—kept up at such a cost of hypocrisy and deceit. I am an adventurer! Granted. What are you!
A most unhappy woman!
You will have a better title to
It is not in your power. Who will believe
Allow me to observe that I am the fortunate possessor of no less than thirteen of your letters.
Alas ! Even I did not know this man!
Addio !
Remember my ultimatum! Peace or war, as you will. I prefer peace infinitely! I hate
giving pain to a woman! But if Mildmay doesn't show to-morrow—with the money —your interesting
autographs will be added to the literature of the country. En attendant —allow me
to wish you a very good night!
Ruffian! Coward! Should he dare to expose those fatal letters, he will destroy me! But I
must be calm—this girl shall not see a trace of emotion.
Is he gone?
For this night you are safe. This man dare not—dare not!—Oh, what will he not dare ?
Aunt, dear aunt! Be composed! Come with me! Come to bed! What can have passed between them ?
So ! I knew he was a rascal—but I'd no notion Mrs. Sternhold had been such a fool! But when
laissez aller principle too far. It's a capital rule in political
economy—but it don't do in married life, I see. That wants a coup d'etat now and
then. So ! My wife !
She's calmer now. I must go to my room for ether.
My husband! Come back? Thank heaven! I'm safe now!
I hope so. But what's the matter ? Why are you up at this hour ? How comes that garden door open ?
I—I—don't know. Was it open ?
Yes—I found it so, just now, as I came back from the station.
Then you're not going to Manchester. Do not leave me ! Stay—do stay!
My journey's unnecessary, I find. But, about this open door ? I must take a survey of the premises. Jessop was firing at the blackbirds to day. He left his gun in the root-house.
No—no! Oh, consider!—if you should meet him—
Him !—who ?
The—the—the robber—the man !
Oh! then there
No—no! Didn't you say you thought there was?
Not I! But, to satisfy you. I'll make the round of the garden.
M. No—no !
Don't be alarmed, Emmy. I shall take the gun, and use it—if necessary.
Oh, heaven ! If they meet!
Why Jane, you positively have eaten no breakfast! And now I look at you, I declare you are as pale as a sheet of paper, and your eyes are red, and I'm sure you're feverish. You are not well, my dear Jane ? You're far from well—in fact you're very ill—I'm sure you're very ill. Do let me give you a globule.
Nonsense, brother, I don't believe in globules. It's merely the consequence of our discussion yesterday. You know discussion always makes me ill.
But my dear Jane, there's not the least occasion to be ill this morning. I've agreed to do as you wished. Hawksley shall have the money for those shares this very day. It's an excellent investment, as you proved last night.
And pray who ever said anything of the kind ?
Why, did'nt you ?
Certainly not. You are always misunderstanding me.
Of course ; lay the responsibility upon
Well, you see, as far as I'm concerned, I'd rather not have anything to do with the affair; there's mischief enough done as it is, particularly as Mildmay has taken it into his head to invest six or seven thousand in it himself.
Mildmay invest his money in Captain Hawksley's company ?
Certainly; didn't he tell you ? He was to have seen the captain to-day about it, after his return from Manchester. As he didn't go to Manchester, I suppose he'll call on him when he goes into the city this morning : he's late—poor Emmy's very unwell.
Go at once, and beg Mildmay to come here before he goes.
Yes, my dear. I'll thank you for another cup of tea ?
I said
Yes ; I have a secret to confide to you—a most important secret; one I should not dare to trust to anyone in whom I had not the most implicit confidence.
I'm much obliged to you ; what is it ? And as I've not breakfasted, if you will give me a
cup of tea while you tell me.
My wife ! Didn't you say it was a secret ? The cream, please.
If your mother were alive, and a man had insulted her, what would you do ?
The right thing, of course. Might I trouble you for the sugar basin ?
You have lost your mother; so has Mrs. Mildmay : but your marriage with her has given you a claim upon me, second only to that of a brother. From all I have seen of you, I feel I may expect of you a brother's devotion.
Do you ? Butter, please.
Suppose, then, a man had insulted
Eh!—Well—I really don't know. What should you recommend me to answer ?
Are you a man, and ask that ? You surely did not listen to the case I put.
Why, you see we Lancashire folk are somewhat dull of comprehension. If you'd speak out, straight forward like, I might understand you better.
If a man gave you a blow, what would you do?
Hit him again.
Yes, if he were a Bruiser; but if he were a gentleman, you would use the weapons of a gentleman in your defence. Your honour and that of your wife's relatives are one: you have been insulted through me. Now, do you understand ?
I see: a lady has been insulted, and she wishes me to insist on gentlemanly satisfaction on
her
Don't you ? I do. I have no doubt that you were quite right; only I don't see how a man without any will of his own is to set up a character for pluck and energy all of a sudden, and turn fire-eater, not on his own account, but on yours ; there's my difficulty.
This is no answer, Mr. Mildmay.
Isn't it ? I think I can put it into unmistakeable English. I have been married for a year,
and I've taken things as they came. I confess I have always had a sort of idea a man ought to
be master in his own house; but I know that is'nt your notion; you think a man ought to let
his wife lead him by the nose ; that a woman should control everything: in fact, you're the
head of the family. I daren't ask a friend home to dinner without notice given, and leave
obtained beforehand ; the servants look to you for orders, and to me only for wages ; you
settle the patterns of the furniture, and the laying out of the garden: in short, you're
A 1, and I'm nobody. I've no objection; only if I'm not to have any authority, I
can't think of taking any responsibility: if I am a cipher, I claim the right to act as a
cipher.
As I expected.
I hope she understood that, at all events.
Well, I think I have pretty well : it was about those shares of Hawksley's.
I knew it was. Well, it appears she has changed her mind about 'em.
Not that I know of. I'm off to Hawksley's directly after breakfast; and—talking of that—have you got the shares he allotted to you last week ?
Yes.
If you like to endorse them to me, I've no objection to take them at par, on account of so much of the money owing under my wife's investment.
Take the shares at par!
Oh, Mrs. Sternhold and I understand each other. There's no time to be lost—I want to catch the first bus to the city.
There you are—twenty scrip certificates at par, that's one thousand pounds, and that makes
seven thousand pounds I owe you now, instead of eight thousand pounds.
Oh, never mind me. I know I'm no conjuror—but, perhaps, after all, father-in-law, I'm not
such a fool as I look.
Poor lad ! Poor lad! Now he thinks himself a devilish clever fellow! If he had a little of
my experience ! But there's no taking the self-conceit out of the young men now-a-days.
" Sweet is revenge—especially to women."
But reputation is still sweeter, and,
thanks to her remarkably indiscreet pen, her's is in my hands—and she knows it. I'm a cool
hand, I flatter myself, but, by Jove, she nearly threw me off my balance last night! That
sudden turn up of the lamp was devilish well imagined,
Ah, Hawksley, me boy, how are ye ?
Right as a trivet, my prince of prospectus-mongers.
Ah, don't ye be puttin' the blarney on me, then. Look at that,
Mighty piscatorial, me boy! and, betwixt you and me and the post, if you and me, and the direction generally, doesn't look mighty sharp, the two-and-a-half will be foive by to-morrow.
The devil! Why, they were at two premium only yesterday.
It's that blackguard Bolter; he's blowed the gaff. I tould the Direction they couldn't afford to quarrel wid the Secretary.
But how could we keep a fellow who had been robbing us to the tune of a hundred a month?
And what o' that ? Sure wasn't he the manes of getting us tin times that out o' the public ? The craythur was rared for the church: why wouldn't he be taking his tithe?
Well, there's only one thing for it—we must rig the market. Go in, and buy up every share that's offered.
Divilish asy to say "buy," but where's the tin to come from ? I called in at Flimsy's, as I came along, and they looked so black at me, in the parlour, that I felt it a superfluous act of politeness to inquire after the state of our balance.
I've a thousand in this note case; and, besides, expect a few more thousands to-day.
The divil you do! Hooray! Corn in Agypt! It's yourself that's the boy can do it. I'll go
bail you've
I shall meet you there. But I've a better fish on my hook than old Potter—his son-in-law.
What, young Mildmay ? I know the individual, and respect him. Mind what ye're about, me boy. He's from Lancashire—and thim north-country boys is as cute as Dublin car dhrivers.
Then this fellow's a cock-tail—for a greater flat was never potted.
Anyhow he'd find his match in you, if he was as sharp as Corney Rooney's pig, that always bolted a week afore quarter day, for fear he'd be made bacon of, to pay the rint. The top of the mornin' to ye, my boy. I'll be off to the city, and give our Board the office. By the powers, but they ought to vote you a piece of plate.
Well, a handsome salver wouldn't look amiss on my sideboard.
Divil the salver—sure I'd suggest a stew pan.
A stew pan!
It's nate and appropriate. Brass outside, and tin at the bottom.
Curse his bogtrotting impudence! But that's the worst of letting one's self down to this city work. At the Corner, one was safe to be in a gentlemanly set, but East of Temple Bar, they're such d——d low fellows.
Mr. Mildmay.
Bravissimo ! Here, bring this table down from the fire.
Don't mind me. I'm in no hurry.
Mrs. Sternhold's a little out of sorts this morning.
Ah! Had a bad night ?
I should think so.
No, not yet.
I fancied not, by the style in which you seem to have talked of getting shares, as if you
thought they could be had for asking. You see there's been such a run on 'em, that we've had
twice as many applied for as could be allotted. But there may be a few in the market still.
Another week, and you'd not have had a chance. Perhaps it would be as well, though, before
you connect yourself with it, that I should give you, briefly, an idea of our scheme, our
means of carrying it out, and its probable results.
If you would be so kind.
Fetch yourself a chair, then,
A solid and comprehensive basis ? I suppose that means a good lot of money.
Precisely. Money is the sinews of industry, as of war. Now, to anticipate events a little, let us throw ourselves into the future, and imagine our Company at work. We have created between the Ports of the West of Ireland and the United States, Mexico, the West India Islands, and Brazil, a line of Galvanic Boats—rapid, economical, safe, and regular. For rapidity, we can give four knots an hour to the fastest steamer yet built. As for safety, our Galvanic engines can't blow up.
But suppose the Company should? Companies do blow up sometimes, don't they?
Bubbles do, but not such Companies as this. But, to resume: economy we ensure, by getting rid of coal altogether.
Get rid of coal! Do you really ? And pray what do you use instead ?
Our new motive principle. That is
I used to know a little of it at school.
Then let X and X/2 denote the respective cost of the two modes of carriage—while the two rates of profit are represented by Y and Y1
Which, in algebra, always denote an unknown quantity.
Precisely. Well, A. and B. remaining constant, let Y = A plus B/X be the formula for profit in the case of steam, then Y1 = A plus B/X , divided by 2, will be the formula for profit in the case of galvanic transport— or reducing the equations Y1 = 2 Y, or, in plain English, the profit on galvanic transport equal to twice the profit on steam carriage. I hope that's clear!
Perfectly—only, as you began by assuming the cost of the first at only half that of the second, I don't see what need there was of any algebra to prove the profit double.
Ah!—Why, you see—some people apprehend a thing more clearly in symbols: However, to return to our plan of operations. You observe we start from a Port in the West of Ireland; by this means we gain six days on Liverpool, Bristol, and the Western Ports of England. At one blow, we destroy Liverpool.
The devil you do! I've property in Liverpool.
Next, we destroy Bristol.
Destroy Bristol, too!
That is, when I say destroy, we reduce her to a second-rate Port. She will still have the coasting and fruit trade, and may do a little in turtle. We destroy Hull-
But stop—stop—stop. You're going to destroy everything.
My dear fellow, it's the law of the universe. If, by our line, we can introduce West Indian sugar into the market, at two-thirds the price of East Indian, are we to hesitate because Ceylon may be ruined ?
Of course not. I suppose that would be what the political economists call sentimentalism.
Precisely. If Ceylon is ruined on these terms, so much the better for the world in general.
And so much the worse for Ceylon in particular.
Just so. I see you follow me exactly.
Only, I was thinking—
Pray speak out. The suggestions of a new, fresh mind are invaluable. You were thinking—
That, as the general interest is made up of particular interests, if you destroy the particular interests, perhaps the general interest may not be so much benefitted, after all.
Ah, there you get into an abstruse field of speculation.
Do I ? It seems clear enough to me.
That's because you take a shallow view of the subject.
One I can see to the bottom of, in fact!
Precisely. A man of your calibre should always distrust what he can see to the bottom of.
I generally do. Well, after your very lucid demonstration, I see your company cannot fail
of success. The more shares a man has, the more lucky he should think himself,
I beg your pardon —not exactly—I think—
Why, wasn't that the figure you put it at yourself, last night ?
Last night—yes.
You havn't changed your mind ?
No.
Then let us understand each other. Do you want more than two hundred, or fewer ?
Neither more—nor fewer.
What do you mean?
I mean, I don't want any at all.
Exactly ! I've slept on it.
Perhaps Mrs. Sternhold's advice may have had something to do with your sudden change of intentions.
Mrs. Sternhold knows nothing about my sudden change of intentions.
I must satisfy myself on that point.
Do, by all means, if it interests you.
Certainly. I had two objects in coming. In the first place, about two months ago, my father-in-law, Mr. Potter, took twenty shares in your Company. Those shares have come into my hands this morning by Mr. Potter's endorsement. Now, as I don't care about 'em myself, and as there seems such a rush for 'em in the market, I suppose you'll have no objection to take them off my hands at par.
Eh? Take them off your hands at par? Ha! ha! ha! No! By Jove, that's rather too good! My dear Mr. Mildmay, I know you're the most amiable of men—a consummate cultivator of that delicate vegetable, celery—a distinguished house painter and decorator—but I had no idea how great you were at a practical joke.
Very well. We'll drop the shares for the present, and come to motive number two.
Pray do—and if it's better fun than motive number one, I shall have to thank you for two of the heartiest laughs I've enjoyed for many a day.
We shall see. You have in your possession thirteen letters, addressed to you by Mrs. Sternhold. The second motive for my visit was to ask you to give up those letters.
I beg your pardon. I have no commission from Mrs. Sternhold.
It was not she who told you of those letters ?
Certainly not.
Who did ?
You must excuse my answering that question.
Then you are acting now on your own responsibility ?
Entirely.
Very well—then this is my answer. Though you have married Mrs. Sternhold's niece, I do not admit your right to interfere, without authority from Mrs. Sternhold herself, in an affair in which she alone is interested. I refuse to give up her letters. As to your first request, my business is to sell shares, not to buy them.
I was prepared for both refusals; so I have taken my measures for compelling you to grant both demands.
The devil you have! Do let me hear what they are ? I am all impatience to know how you
propose to make Harry Hawksley say yes, when he has begun by saying no.
You've no objection to smoke ?
None in the world.
Now, my very dear sir, fire away!
I don't think that quite. But allow me to conclude. How you have passed your time since that 30th of April, 1850, I have not the advantage of knowing; but I know that soon after my marriage, and retirement from business, I met you as a visitor at my father-in-law's house. I've a wonderful memory for faces—I remembered yours at once.
It's a lie, I tell you !
No, it isn't. I resolved not to speak till I could back my words by proofs. I applied to my late partners for the forged bill. One of them was dead, the other absent in South America ; so that for ten months I found myself obliged to receive, as a guest at my own table, as the intimate and trusted friend of my wife's family, a person I knew to be a swindler and a forger !
By heavens!—
Take care! If we come to that game, remember it's town versus country; a hale Lancashire lad against a battered London roué ; fresh air and exercise to smoke and speculation. You had better be quiet—a minute more, and I have done. The letter I had been so long waiting for, containing the forged bill, arrived yesterday from Manchester. You were kind enough to bring it out to Brompton yourself. That bill is in my pocket; if I do not deliver it into your hands before I leave the room, it goes at once into those of the nearest police magistrate.
The price of those shares at par, and Mrs. Sternhold's thirteen letters.
You'll excuse my counting them too.
Are they not safe enough as it is ?
Now oblige me.
I thought it might come to that; but you needn't trouble yourself to call me out, because I shan't come.
And do you flatter yourself I can't force you ? I know duelling is out of fashion in this
infernal coldblooded country; but, even here, there are insults a man can't put up with, and
hold his head up before the world — take care I don't put such an insult upon you.
Don't try
Very well. We are by ourselves — there would be no use in insulting you here : but take care ; the first time we meet in company, I will lash you across the face with my horsewhip. We shall see then if you will refuse me satisfaction.
We shall. If you were only a duellist, I doubt if I should think myself bound to risk my life against yours. But I presume even the laws which you recognise absolve me from the obligation of going out with a swindler and a forger.
Oh, I'm not the least afraid of that. For a man who can snuff a candle at twenty paces, to
call out another who never fired a pistol in his life, is no great piece of heroism; but to
commit a murder requires some pluck. You've defied transportation, but I
This is the last, papa, It's just five—Jessop will have time enough to deliver them all before six.
Dear, dear brother—will you spare me any further allusion to the subject. My head aches dreadfully.
Poor dear! Pull the curtains to, Emmy.
No, no—leave them, pray ! And leave me, do!
I can't think what Mildmay can have meant, by telling me he'd settled it all with you. Eh!
here he comes, to give us an explanation.
Eh?
Didn't you tell me, before going into town this morning, when you asked me to endorse those shares to you, that you had settled it all with Mrs. Sternhold ? And now, it seems, she knew nothing about it. My dear Jane, I wish him to explain himself before you. Mildmay, I insist upon a categorical answer. Did you, or did you not, tell me it was all settled between you and Mrs. Sternhold?
You never said a word to me on the subject.
With pleasure! I couldn't dispose of the shares till they came into my hands, and it occurred to me that the best way of getting them into my hands from Mr. Potter's, was to use your name.
I certainly have taken that liberty.
I hate mystification! Will you oblige me, Mr. Mildmay, by stating, simply and distinctly, what you really have done with those shares!
Certainly. I was much struck, last night, with the justice of Mr. Potter's observations on
the danger
And do you mean to say he has taken them ?
Certainly—at par. Here's the money.
Yes—he did a little—but we got over that. There is the thousand pounds.
My dear John, I've done you injustice. Would you believe it ? I thought you were tipsy—that
Hawksley had been making you drink, in order to humbug you into buying—and now, it seems,
you've humbugged
I've only to direct them, aunt.
I'll direct them if you'll tell Jessop to get ready to take them at once.
And I'll just lock up these notes in my escritoire !
It is to put off the people we had invited to dine to-day. I'm too ill to receive them. Did I understand you to say you had seen Captain Hawksley this morning ?
Yes. I left him not long ago.
And when you offered him the shares, he took them without making any objections ?
I over-ruled his objections.
Can you inform me by what means ?
Oh! what matter about the means, when the end's attained?
S. Did nothing pass between you, on any other subject than these shares ?
Oh—yes — we did touch upon other matters.
His seal!
Stay!
You may save yourself the trouble—they're all there.
All?
Thirteen.
Then you have counted them?
Yes—but I've no notion what they're about. He sealed them up, as you see.
John Mildmay, you have acted like a gentleman. Forgive me for my conduct to you—I cannot forgive myself. To think that I should have doubted you, at the very moment you were about to do me a service which a life of gratitude cannot pay for.
I shall be satisfied with a good deal less than that. I see you're better already. Oblige me by not putting off your dinner to-day.
Jessop's ready to start. Why, if she isn't tearing up the letters ! My dear Jane, what are you about ? I'm sure Emmy had written them very neatly.
My dear brother, allow
Renew it! Never! He was, included in our dinner party to-day—but after what must have passed between you, I suppose there's no danger of our seeing him.
I've no doubt he'll come.
He dare not.
Oh yes, he dare! Assurance is his strong point. But don't be afraid—I shall be here. Receive him as usual, and leave the rest to me.
From such a spoon—that's what you mean, isn't it?
No—that's not the word.
It's about the idea, though. But you're wrong. I'm the same man to-day as I was yesterday.
John Mildmay, you're a perfect puzzle.
Have you any curiosity about the key ?
Curiosity! I am a woman.
I'm a man—and not an automaton, as you've always considered me—that's all! Listen to me. We
But for me!
Yes ! She has been brought up to think you infallible. Had you treated me with respect and
consideration, she would have done so too. You thought proper to ridicule and despise me, and
she followed your lead. I saw this, even during our honeymoon. For ten months I've tried what
patience, indulgence, and submission would do—that plan has been a failure. From this hour, I
change my tactics. You are my wife's nearest female relative, and you shall never find me
wanting in duty or respect, but, from this day forth, remember, there's only one master in
this house, and his name is John Mildmay.
A compliment from you! I thought you had forgotten how to pay one.
Did you, Emily ? You remember what day this is ?
Yes.
Does it come round as such a day should, Emily ? Do you remember the vows we both took this day twelvemonth?—"To love, to honour, and obey."
They did well, the compilers of that solemn service, to put
Emily, I returned to this house, last night, half-an-hour before you saw me. I overheard all that passed between your aunt and Captain Hawksley, I knew the motive of his intrusion into this house at that hour.
Oh, thank you, dearest; thank you—tell me of my faults—I will try to correct them. I will honour and obey you, as a wife should.
I've been to blame, too. I have been rough, and cold, and careless—
No—no; you are the kindest and most generous of men. But my father—my aunt—they have been as much mistaken in you as I was. Speak to her, as you have spoken to me.
Oh, bless you—bless you for such words! How have I misjudged you !
Six o'clock, and Mildmay not dressed yet. Egad !
Mr. Langford!
Uncommonly seasonable weather — uncommonly seasonable—uncommonly—
Mr. Markham.
Ah! it is Markham! How are you all at home ?—that's right! You know Langford, I think.
No — nothing stirring but stagnation! Infernally disagreeable weather—
Infernally disagreeable—infernally—very disagreeable weather!
Mr. Dunbilk.
Ye may say that, ma'am—run afther as he is by the aristocracy,
Sure I wouldn't wait for him, if I was you. He'd be sorry, if he does come, to think he spoiled the fish.
No—we'll give him a quarter of an hour.
I hope he won't disappoint us. I never felt so anxious to see him.
I'm sure we must all be glad to see any friend of yours my love. .
Emily !
Maxwell—
Mr. Maxwell, from the North.
All right!
Captain Hawksley!
Stop! My dear Mrs. Sternhold, don't be alarmed—this is no scene for ladies. Oblige me by walking into the next room for a few minutes.
For Mercy's sake
John ! Husband !
I must insist on your going.
Delighted me boy !
If this goes on I'll send for the police !
Gentlemen—
Really, Captain Hawksley—
Here ! police ! Jessop !
Be quiet, I insist—all of you. My mind is made up. Nothing can change it.
Gentlemen, I hold you all to witness what passed. I am the insulted. I have the choice of time, place and weapons. I make that choice. Here—now— these pistols.
Such, a way of fighting was never known but in a novel. I decline this unheard-of mode of proceeding.
I expected as much. I only wished to show these gentlemen that under cover of the forms of a
duel, you contemplated assassination.
A felon !
A felon in this house ! Where ? Police ! Police !
Alias Burgess'—alias Boscawen. It's on a charge of forgery, committed four years ago—evidence only completed last week. It's a lifer, as sure as my name's Gimlet.
A bill; but not
Done !—done by that wo1f in sheep's clothing !
That's right, keep your pecker up.
Mrs. Sternhold, I am sorry I shall not have the pleasure of dining with you: Mrs. Mildmay,
no chance of another tete-a-tete, I fear : Potter, my boy, you were just in time with those
shares; give my compliments to the Board, Dunbilk: Mildmay—
Why that's poor John Mildmay.
Your daughter's husband.
Oh, certainly, if you desire it. John Mildmay, I ask your pardon—Jane and Emily say I ought; though what I've done, or what there is to ask pardon for—
Perhaps you'll learn in time. But we're forgetting dinner—Langford, will you take my wife?
My dear boy, you astonish me ! But, however, there's an old proverb that says,— " All
is not gold that glitters."
Yes; and there is another old proverb, and one much more to the purpose, that says,—
"Still Waters Run Deep."