Chapter XXIII: Act III: Scene 1

_The next morning_. ROBERT’S _cousins are standing by the fire-place of the same room_.

LIZ. ’Tis powerful unhomely here, Jane.

JANE. And that ’tis. I wish as Robert had never brought us along of him.

LIZ. She’s a stuck-up jay of a thing what he’s about to wed if ever I seed one.

JANE. That her be. He’ll live to wish hisself dead and buried one day.

LIZ. There bain’t but one sensible tongue in the whole place to my mind.

JANE. Ah, he’s a man to anyone’s liking, sister.

LIZ. ’Tis homelike as he do make I to feel among all these strangers.

JANE. Here he comes.

[JEREMY _with a yoke and two pails stands at the doorway_.

LIZ. Now do you come in, mister, and have a bit of talk along of we.

JANE. Set down them pails and do as sister says, Mister Jeremy.

[JEREMY _looks them all over and then slowly and deliberately sets down his pails_.

LIZ. That’s right, sister and me was feeling terribly lonesome here this morning.

JANE. And we was wishing as we’d never left home to come among all these stranger folk.

LIZ. Not that we feels you to be a stranger, dear Mister Jeremy.

JANE. You be a plain homely man such as me and sister be accustomed to.

JEREMY. Anything more?

LIZ. I suppose you’ve put by a tidy bit—seeing as you be of a certain age.

JANE. Although your looks favour you well, don’t they, sister?

LIZ. To be sure they do.

JANE. And I reckon as you could set up a home of your own any day, mister.

JEREMY. [_Pointing through the window_.] See that there roof against the mill?

LIZ. Indeed I do.

JEREMY. That’s where I do live.

[_Both sisters move quickly to the window_.

JANE. A very comfortable looking home indeed.

LIZ. I likes the looks of it better nor this great old house.

JANE. [_Archly_.] Now I daresay there’s but one thing wanted over there, Mister Jeremy.

JEREMY. What’s that?

JANE. A good wife to do and manage for you.

JEREMY. I never was done for nor managed by a female yet, and blowed if I will be now.

LIZ. [_Shaking her finger at him_.] Sister an’ me knows what comes of such words, don’t us, sister? ’Tis an old saying in our family as one wedding do make a many.

JEREMY. Give me a woman’s tongue for foolishness. I’ve heared a saying too in my family, which be—get a female on to your hearth and ’tis Bedlam straight away.

JANE. Now, sister, did you ever hear the like of that?

LIZ. Us’ll have to change his mind for him, Jane.

JEREMY. I reckon ’twould take a rare lot of doing to change that, mistress.

JANE. Bain’t you a-goin’ to get yourself ready for church soon?

JEREMY. Dashed if I ever heard tell of such foolishness. Who’s to mind the place with all the folk gone fiddle-faddling out?

LIZ. There’s the man William.

JEREMY. I bain’t a-goin’ to leave the place to a stranger.

JANE. Why, sister, us’ll feel lost and lonesome without mister, shan’t us, Liz?

LIZ. That us will. What if us stayed at home and helped to mind the house along of he?

JANE. [_Slowly_.] And did not put our new gowns upon the backs of we after all the money spent?

JEREMY. Ah, there you be. ’Tis the same with all females. Creatures of vanity—even if they be got a bit long in the tooth. ’Tis all the same.

[JANE _and_ LIZ _draw themselves up_, _bridling_, _but_ LIZ _relaxes_.

LIZ. He must have his little joke, sister, man-like, you know.

[JOHN _enters_.]

JOHN. Jerry, and I’ve been seeking you everywhere. Come you off to the yard. ’Tis as much as we shall do to be ready afore church time. I never knew you to idle in the house afore.

JEREMY. [_Taking up his pails_, _sarcastically_.] ’Twas the females as tempted I, master, but ’twon’t occur again, so there. [_He hurries off_, _followed by_ JOHN.

LIZ. [_With dignity_.] Us’ll go upstairs and dress, sister.

JANE. ’Tis time we did so. All them new-fashioned things be awkward in the fastenings.

[_They go upstairs_.

[ROBERT _and_ ROSE _come in from the garden_. ROBERT _carries a little card-board box in his hand_, _which he places on the table_. ROSE _sits down listlessly on a chair leaning her arms on the table_.

ROBERT. [_Undoing the box_.] This is the bouquet what I promised to bring from town.

ROSE. [_Her gaze wandering outside_.] Well, we might as well look at it afore I go to dress.

[ROBERT _uncovers the box and takes out a small bouquet of white flowers surrounded by a lace frill_.

ROSE. [_Taking it from him carelessly and raising it to her face_.] Why, they are false ones.

ROBERT. [_Contemptuously_.] My good girl, who ever went to church with orange blossom that was real, I’d like to know?

ROSE. [_Languidly dropping the bouquet on the table_.] I’m sure I don’t care. I reckon that one thing’s about as good as another to be married with.

ROBERT. [_Going to the window and looking out_.] Ah—I daresay ’tis so.

ROSE. I feel tired of my wedding day already—that I do.

ROBERT. There’s a plaguey, fanciful kind of feel about the day, what a man’s hardly used to, so it seems to me.

ROSE. [_Wildly_.] O, I reckon we may get used to it in time afore we die.

ROBERT. Now—if ’twas with the right—

ROSE. Right what, Robert?

ROBERT. [_Confused_.] I hardly know what I was a-going to say, Rose. Suppose you was to take up your flowers and go to dress yourself. We might as well get it all over and finished with.

ROSE. [_Rising slowly_.] Perhaps ’twould be best. I’ll go to my room, and you might call the girl Lucy and send her up to help me with my things.

ROBERT. Won’t you take the bouquet along of you?

ROSE. No—let it bide there. I can have it later.

[_She goes slowly from the room_.

[_Left to himself_, ROBERT _strolls to the open door and looks gloomily out on the garden_. _Suddenly his face brightens_.

ROBERT. Lucy, Lucy, come you in here a moment.

LUCY. [_From outside_.] I be busy just now hanging out my cloths, master.

ROBERT. Leave your dish cloths to dry themselves. Your mistress wants you, Lucy.

LUCY. [_Coming to the door_.] Mistress wants me, did you say?

ROBERT. Yes, you’ve got to go and dress her for the church. But you can spare me a minute or two first.

ISABEL. [_Going quickly across the room to the staircase door_.] Indeed, that is what I cannot do, master. ’Tis late already.

ROBERT. [_Catches her hand and pulls her back_.] I’ve never had a good look at your face yet, my girl—you act uncommon coy, and that you do.

ISABEL. [_Turning her head away and speaking angrily_.] Let go of my hand, I tell you. I don’t want no nonsense of that sort.

ROBERT. Lucy, your voice do stir me in a very uncommon fashion, and there’s sommat about the appearance of you—

ISABEL. Let go of me, master. Suppose as anyone should look through the window.

ROBERT. Let them look. I’d give a good bit for all the world to see us now.

ISABEL. O, whatever do you mean by that, Mister Robert?

ROBERT. What I say. ’Tis with you as I’d be going along to church this morning. Not her what’s above.

ISABEL. But I wouldn’t go with you—No, not for all the gold in the world.

ROBERT. Ah, you’ve changed since yesterday. When I caught your eye at dinner, ’twas gentle as a dove’s—and your hand, when it gave me my mug of cider did seem—well did seem to put a caress upon me like.

ISABEL. O there lies a world of time twixt yesterday and to-day, Master Robert.

ROBERT. So it do seem. For to-day ’tis all thorns and thistles with you—But I’m a-goin’ to have my look at your pretty face and my kiss of it too.

ISABEL. I shall scream out loud if you touches me—that I shall.

ROBERT. [_Pulling her to him_.] Us’ll see about that.

[_He tries to get a sight of her face_, _but she twists and turns_. _Finally he seizes both her hands and covers them with kisses as_ KITTY _enters_.

KITTY. O whatever’s going on! Rose, Rose, John—come you in here quickly, do. [_To_ LUCY.] O you bad, wicked girl. I knew you couldn’t be a very nice servant brought in off the road by Jeremy.

[ISABEL, _released by_ ROBERT, _goes over to the window arranging her disordered sun-bonnet and trying to hide her tears_. ROBERT _watches her sullenly_.

KITTY. [_Goes to the staircase door and calls loudly_.] Rose, Rose—come you down as quick as you can run.

ROSE. [_Coming down_.] What’s all this, I’d like to know?

KITTY. It’s Lucy, behaving dreadful—O you must send her straight away from the house, Rose.

ROSE. What has she done, then?

KITTY. Going on with Robert. Flirting, Rose, and kissing.

ISABEL. O no, mistress, twasn’t so, I do swear to you.

ROBERT. [_Brutally_.] Yes ’twas. The maid so put me powerful in mind of someone who—who—

ROSE. [_Coldly_.] I understand you, Robert. Well, ’tis lucky that all this didn’t come off an hour or so later.

KITTY. [_Tearfully_.] O Rose, what do you mean?

ROSE. I mean that what’s not broken don’t need no mending. Robert can go to church with someone else to-day, he can. And no harm done.

[_She takes up the bunch of orange flowers and begins pulling it to pieces and throwing it all about the room_.

KITTY. O Rose, Rose, don’t take it so hard. ’Twasn’t Robert’s fault. ’Twas the girl off the road what led him on. I know it. Tell her to get out of the house. I’ll dress you—I’ll do the work. Only be just and sensible again; dear Rose.

ROSE. Let the girl bide. It makes no difference to me. There’ll be no marrying for me to-day.

[JOHN _comes in at the door_.

KITTY. [_Running to him_.] O John, John—do you quiet down Rose and tell her to get upstairs and dress. She’s a-saying that she won’t marry Robert because of his goings on with the new servant—But, O, you’ll talk her into reason again, won’t you, dear John?

JOHN. Come, come, what’s all this cackle about, Rose?

ROSE. I’m breaking off with Robert, that’s all, John.

JOHN. Robert, can’t you take and explain a bit what ’tis.

ROBERT. [_Sullenly_.] A little bit of play ’twixt me and the wench there, and that’s about all, I reckon.

JOHN. Now that’s an unsensible sort of thing to get doing on your marriage day, to my thinking.

KITTY. ’Twasn’t Robert’s fault, I know. ’Twas the maid off the road who started it.

[_Here_ ISABEL _sinks down on a chair by the window_, _leaning her arms on the table and bowing her head_, _in tears_.

JOHN. [_Going to the door_.] Jeremy—Jeremy—come you in here a minute.

[_Instead of_ JEREMY, LUBIN _comes in_.

JOHN. ’Twas Jeremy I did call—not you.

LUBIN. He’s gone off the place for a few minutes.

JOHN. [_Vexedly_.] Ah, ’tis early for the Red Bull.

LUBIN. Can I—can I do anything for you, master?

JOHN. Not unless you can account for the sort of serving wench off the roadside what Jerry has put upon us.

LUBIN. What is there to account for in her, master?

ROSE. [_Passionately_.] O I don’t particular mind about what’s happened. Let her kiss with Robert if she has the mind. ’Tis always the man who commences.

JOHN. ’Tis not. There are some wenches who don’t know how to leave anyone alone. Worser than cattle flies, that sort.

ISABEL. [_Going across the room to_ LUBIN’S _side_.] O you shame me by them words, I bain’t that sort of maid—you’ll answer for me—William?

[LUBIN _silently takes her hand_.

ROSE. [_Her eyes fixed on_ LUBIN.] I’ll tell you what, John; I’ll tell you, Kitty. I wish I’d held me to my first lover and I wish ’twas with Lubin that I was a-going to the church to-day.

ROBERT. [_Sullenly_.] Then I’ll say sommat, Rose. I wish ’twas with Isabel that I was getting wed.

JOHN. Now, now—’Tis like two children a quarrelling over their playthings. Suppose you was to go and get yourself dressed, Rose-Anna—And you too, Robert. Why, the traps will be at the door afore you’re ready if you don’t quicken yourselves up a bit. Kitty, you go and help your sister.

ROSE. [_With a jealous glance at Isabel_.] No, I’ll have Lucy with me.

JOHN. That’s it, you keep her out of mischief

KITTY. I’ve got my own dress to put on.

JOHN. And Robert, you and me will have a drink after all this caddle. ’Tis dry work getting ready for marriage so it appears.

ROBERT. ’Tis fiery dry to my thinking.

ROSE. [_Crossing the room and going up to_ LUBIN.] I have no flowers to take to church with me, William; go you to the waterside, I have a mind to carry some of the blue things what grow there.

KITTY. Forget-me-nots, you mean!

ROSE. Forget-me-nots, I mean. And none but you to gather them for me, William. Because—because—well, you do put me in thoughts of someone that I once held and now have lost. That’s all.

[_Curtain_.