Complete Works of Wilkie Collins (1945 page)

It was plain from this that neither the rector nor the parents and friends knew anything of the purchase of the knife. The one miserable man who knew the truth was the man who had asked her to be his wife.

I owed it to myself — at least so it seemed to me — not to let it be supposed that I, too, had meanly deserted her. Dreadful as the prospect was, I felt that I must see her once more, and for the last time.

She was at work when I went into her room. As I opened the door she started to her feet. Her cheeks reddened, and her eyes flashed with anger. I stepped forward — and she saw my face. My face silenced her.

I spoke in the fewest words I could find.

“I have been to the cutler’s shop at Waterbank,” I said. “There is the unfinished inscription on the knife, complete in your handwriting. I could hang you by a word. God forgive me — I can’t say the word.”

Her bright complexion turned to a dreadful clay-colour. Her eyes were fixed and staring, like the eyes of a person in a fit. She stood before me, still and silent. Without saying more, I dropped the inscription into the fire. Without saying more, I left her.

I never saw her again.

VIII.

BUT I heard from her a few days later. The letter has long since been burned. I wish I could have forgotten it as well. It sticks to my memory. If I die with my senses about me, Priscilla’s letter will be my last recollection on earth.

In substance it repeated what the rector had already told me. Further, it informed me that she had bought the knife as a keepsake for Zebedee, in place of a similar knife which he had lost. On the Saturday, she made the purchase, and left it to be engraved. On the Sunday, the banns were put up. On the Monday, she was deserted; and she snatched the knife from the table while the engraver was at work.

She only knew that Zebedee had added a new sting to the insult inflicted on her when he arrived at the lodgings with his wife. Her duties as cook kept her in the kitchen — and Zebedee never discovered that she was in the house. I still remember the last lines of her confession:

“The devil entered into me when I tried their door, on my way up to bed, and found it unlocked, and listened a while, and peeped in. I saw them by the dying light of the candle — one asleep on the bed, the other asleep by the fireside. I had the knife in my hand, and the thought came to me to do it, so that they might hang
her
for the murder. I couldn’t take the knife out again, when I had done it. Mind this! I did really like you — I didn’t say Yes, because you could hardly hang your own wife, if you found out who killed Zebedee.”

Since the past time I have never heard again of Priscilla Thurlby; I don’t know whether she is living or dead. Many people may think I deserve to be hanged myself for not having given her up to the gallows. They may, perhaps, be disappointed when they see this confession, and hear that I have died decently in my bed. I don’t blame them. I am a penitent sinner. I wish all merciful Christians good-by forever.

First published in 1863, this play was written by dramatist Bayle Bernard, with Collins’ approval.
 
It was never performed in England.

NO NAME.

A Drama,

In Five Acts.

FOUNDED ON, AND ADAPTED FROM, THE STORY SO ENTITLED.

BY WILKIE COLLINS, Esq.

to which is added

A description of the costumes — cast of the characters — entrances and exits — relative positions of the performers on the stage, and the whole of the stage business.

—

New York

ROBERT M. DE WITT, PUBLISHER
No. 33 Rose Street.

CHARACTERS.

NOEL VANSTONE
CAPTAIN KIRKE
MR. CLARE
PENDRIL (a Solicitor)
CAPTAIN WRAGGE (a moral Agriculturist)
SERVANT
POSTMAN
MAGDALEN VANSTONE
NORAH (her sister)
MISS GARTH (their Governess)
MADAME LECOMPTE
MRS. WRAGGE

COSTUMES (
English, present day.
)

NOEL VANSTONE. — Pale, light, short-curl wig, thin moustache. Act III.: Light pants, white vest, morning-gown with silk cord and tassel. Act IV.: Light sea-side suit, straw hat with blue ribbon, canvas shoes.

CAPTAIN WRAGGE. — Act II.: Seedy black suit, coat buttoned up to the throat, frayed collar and cuffs, black hat too often brushed, straggling moustache, semi-military air. Act IV.: Light summer dress, moustache trimmed, colour on cheeks, ring and pin, watch and seals. Act V.: Black suit, very fine, ruffled bosom to shirt, jewelry.

CAPTAIN KIRKE. — Dark blue suit, of naval cut, with plain gilt buttons, cap with glazed peak, moustache and beard around face.

MR. CLARE. — Black suit.

PENDRIL. — A lawyer. Black suit, black gloves.

SERVANT. — In black, white tie, etc.

POSTMAN. — Dark blue uniform, faced with red.

MAGDALEN VANSTONE. — Act I. — Hair rather plain, in full mourning, white collar and cuffs. Act II : Traveling dress, gray, mantle, reticule, gloves, parasol. Act III.: Made up after general appearance of MISS GARTH, old-fashioned dark alpaca dress, high bonnet, with thick black lace fall, dark gloves, reticule, false front of different coloured hair to her own. Disguised voice throughout. Act IV. : White dress with trimming to suit, straw sea-side hat, parasol. Act V.: Gray dress, hair in fashion.

NORAH VANSTONE. — To resemble MAGDALEN. Act I.: Mourning. Act V.: Fashionable attire, hat, gloves, parasol, wedding-ring.

MISS GARTH. — (About forty). Dark dress, old-fashioned. Hair in old style, black lace mittens.

MADAME LECOMPTE. — Swiss-French accent. Act III.: House dress. Act IV.: Walking-dress, hat, parasol.

MRS. WRAGGE. — Act II.: Faded satin dress, cap, hair rather disordered, confused, dazzled manner. Act IV.: Light dress, bonnet with veil, sun-umbrella, large reticule.

SERVANT-GIRL for Act III. — House dress, cap and apron.

LADIES for promenaders. — Act IV.: Handsome sea-side dresses, parasols.

SCENERY (
English, present day.
)

Act I. — Scene: Parlor in Country House

Landscape on flat in distance; foreground, lawn and garden. Carpet down in room. Sideboards. Pictures on flat and side sets. Writing materials on round table, R.; statuette, books, portfolio on table up L.

Act II. — Lodgings. Mean Parlor, in 3d grooves.

Backing of wall to D. in F. Soiled curtains to window in F. Square of carpet in the centre of the room. Lighted candle on table. Low fire in fireplace. Bureau, looking-glass over it.

Act III. — Scene: Parlor.

Framed engraving on side sets. Carpet down. Large window R., cut out panes, with view of shrubbery in a garden. D. L. 3 E. is practicable. Trunks, valises, boxes up L.,in disorder.

Act IV. — Scene: Beach and Villas.

View on flat, calm sea. A few small sail in sight, foreground, beach, bathing-machines and grounded fishing-smacks. Houses R. and L. 1 E.’s, white, with green blinds, striped awnings to upper windows.

Act V. — Scene: Sitting-room in Lodging-house.

A few cheap engravings on flat, framed; curtains to windows. Carpet down. Stairs in upper entrance, up trap, guarded by railing.

STAGE DIRECTIONS

R. means Right of Stage, facing the Audience; L. Left; C. Centre; R. C. Right of Centre; L. C. Left of Centre. D. F. Door in the Flat, or Scene running across the back of the Stage; C. D. F. Centre Door in the Flat; R. D. F. Right Door in the Flat; L. C. F. Left Door in the Flat; R. D. Right Door; L. D. Left Door; 1 E. First Entrance; 2 E. Second Entrance; U. E. Upper Entrance; 1, 2, or 3 G. First, Second, or Third Groove.

The reader is supposed to be upon the stage facing the audience.

NO NAME.

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ACT I.

SCENE. — Parlor at Combe Raven Country House in Somersetshire.

MR. PENDRIL
discovered, seated
R.
of table, a paper in his hand —
MISS GARTH
seated
L.

MR. PENDRIL. Yes, madam, this is the will of our late friend, Mr. Andrew Vanstone. If I can prevail on you to read certain clauses in this document, you will make your own discovery of what I am come here to disclose — circumstances so painful that I hardly know how to communicate them. (
slowly.
)

MISS GARTH. And which affect the dead or living, sir?

PEN. Which affect the dead and living both, madam.

MISS G. (
after pause
). I will not make your hard duty, sir, more painful than I can help. Show me the place in the will, and let me know the worst.

PEN. You will begin here, madam, (
he extends it towards her on the table, pointing out the place.
)

MISS G. (
endeavors to read, but fails, and at length pushes it back
). I — I cannot follow you — I stop. Sir, end all this pain in a word. Does this will of Mr. Vanstone provide for his orphan daughters?

PEN. It did, madam, when he made it.

MISS G. When he made it! Does it now?