Roy. Yes: a quality which tramps (aside) and drummers (aloud) possess in a wonderful degree. (Bess goes up to piano.)
Mar. For my part, I never allow myself to be staggered by the blows of fate. When they come, I take a long breath, and hit out straight from the shoulder.
May. When did you hear from your father, Mr. Graves?
Mar (confused). Eh, – my fa – yes – oh, yes! That is – not lately.
May. He was well when you heard?
Mar. Oh, yes, beautiful – that is hearty – he wishes to be remembered to all my customers – my friends, I mean.
Roy (coming to table). May, what are you doing?
May. Pinning him in a corner. You men are so afraid of each other. Woman’s curiosity knows no fear. We’ve found out one thing: he has a father.
Roy. Yes, and one other: he’s afraid of him. Did you notice his hesitation?
May. Yes. There’s some mystery about that father, which I mean to fathom.
Roy. But not now; give him time. You staggered him – after his boast, too. He didn’t strike out well. Come, let’s go into the garden. The young people want to be left alone. (Goes up.)
May (rising). Yes. I want you to look at my heliotropes; they’re just splendid! (Goes up and places arm in Roy’s.)
Roy. All right. Good-by, Bess. Don’t catch cold. There’s a smacking breeze coming.
Bess. And another going. Good-by.
Graves (slowly). Now what possessed Mrs. Manning to speak of my father? A subject to which I have never alluded. Can she mistrust me? Egad! she nearly took away my breath. My boasted boldness vanished like a flash. (Bess rises, takes a wisp of hay from mantel, and comes behind him.) And yet I’ve nothing to be ashamed of, – only a mystery. Mystery! why should I have a mystery here? (Bess tickles his ear with the wisp. He brushes it off quickly.) Confound it! it’s hurting me. This girl loves me, and I love her. I’ve only to speak and she is mine. (Bess tickles him. He brushes it off.) Hang it! I’m tormented with doubts. But confession is a sure road to favor. I’ll make a confidant of Bessie. If anybody else should tell her I should be (Bess tickles him again) stung with shame. Yes, I’ll meet it (Bess puts her arms round his neck and brings her face round as he speaks this) face to face.
Bess. Dreaming, Marcus? (Sits on hassock at his feet, back to audience).
Mar. Why, Bess, what a brute I’ve been! Yes, dreaming, Bess, of a happy future, I trust, in store for you and me. Do you ever dream of that time?
Bess. Not I. When the skies are bright above us, why should we seek to peep even in dreams beneath the horizon when we know not what storms may be gathering there to roll over the brightness of the present?
Mar. Yes; but the cautious mariner is ever alert for the faintest signs of the coming storm.
Bess. Well, I am not a mariner, and my umbrella is always at hand.
Mar. Bess, can’t you be serious?
Bess. I don’t know. Try me.
Mar. Bess, I love you.
Bess. A failure, Marcus. That pleases me.
Mar. And you are to be my wife?
Bess. Another, Marcus. That delights me.
Mar. Yes, Bess; I know my love is returned. For three years we have been all in all to each other; and now, Bess, I tell you I am unworthy of your love.
Bess. You, Marcus! Now, you surprise me!
Mar. You trust me fully? You would go with me to the altar hand in hand, beyond the altar to death itself —
Bess. To death itself, Marcus!
Mar. And yet, on my part, there has been no confidence; into my past life you have had no glimpse. You took me, a stranger, to your heart, – never questioned me; and, beyond the interchange of affection, myself, my fortune, and my home are strangers still.
Bess. Blind, Marcus! Blind, are you? My woman’s curiosity sought in the beginning to know you; my heart’s instinct probed you, to know if you were worthy. I found you polite, chivalrous, charitable, with a heart open to every cry of distress, a hand ever ready to proffer assistance. Oh, I tried you deeply, as your purse can show! I found you true, noble, sincere. I had no right to question further.
Mar. But you must know me, Bess.
Bess. When you please, Marcus.
Mar. Then patiently hear me; for on your judgment rest my hopes of future happiness.
Bess. Indeed! Now, Marcus, I am serious.
Mar. Bess!
Sim. Beg your pardon! Don’t rise – I may be right. I may be mistaken – Don’t rise. Is this the abode of Miss Nancy Nipper?
Bess (rises quickly. Marcus sits still). Yes. Nancy is in the kitchen.
Sim. Oh, made a mistake! Yes, yes. Can you point out the position of the culinary department of your dwelling?
Bess. I will call her in. Take a seat.
Sim. Ah, thank you. (Bess exit R. I. E.) Here’s my card. Gone! gone without it, and I went to the expense of getting up that card for the express purpose of having it placed in the hands of Miss Nancy Nipper. Says I, “Simon, don’t be shabby. Go, like a gentleman. Spare no expense.” – and it’s useless. (Comes down R., turns, and sees Marcus in chair.) Halloa, Mark! – Mark, the perfect man.
Mar (rises). Si, old fellow where in the world did you drop from? (Gives hand.)
Simon (takes hand and shakes it). Well, in truth, Mark – But stop. I interrupted a tete-a-tete. There was a young lady sitting on that hassock. O Mark, this is too bad! I’m in the way. Good-by (starts for door).
Mar (detaining him). Stop, stop, Si! it’s all right. But why are you here?
Simon. I – why – well – Look here, Mark, I know I’m in the way. I’ll come again (starts for door).
Mar (detaining him). No, no; it’s all right, Si. I see – you’re in love with our Nancy.
Simon. Our Nancy! Our – Good gracious, Mark! You don’t mean to say that you are aspiring to the affection of that damsel?
Mar. Ha, ha, Si! You need not fear. When I said our Nancy, I meant our girl – help, you understand.
Simon. Oh! Ah! Then you are one of the family.
Mar (confused). Well, no. Not exactly.
Simon. Oh, I see. Don’t blush, but I’m sure I must be in the way. I’ll come again (starts for door).
Mar (detaining him). Simon, stop. If you