Complete Works of Wilkie Collins (1953 page)

CAPT. W. That letter was a masterpiece — not merely a mechanical triumph, an exact rendering of the hand — but the man’s mind, his style, ideas. Yes, that constitutes my triumph; that’s a something to be proud of!

VANSTONE
enters,
R. U. E.,
with
MAGDALEN.

VANS. You called to me, Mr. Bygrave.

CAPT. W. For Madame Lecompte, sir. She has bad news — a letter from her brother, who it seems is very ill.

VANS. Then I must leave you, Miss Bygrave, for an instant, an instant only; but I go the proudest and happiest of men. (
after kissing her hand, he enters
L.
house.
)

CAPT. W. From which words I am to infer that he has proposed to you, and been accepted?

MAG. He has. (
on seat
R.)

CAPT. W. And would only be too happy if he could marry you to-morrow. Let him restrain his impatience for a week, and perhaps it can be managed.

MAG. In a week?

CAPT. W. Perhaps less, if he’s active. As soon as this woman starts for Switzerland, he has simply to start for London, buy a license and a ring.

MAG. Oh wretchedness!

CAPT. W. So! I think both of us are to be congratulated — you on the fascinations which have hooked this trout so easily, and I on the tact and firmness that saved the sport from interruption.

VANSTONE
enters from
L.
house.

VANS. (
eagerly to
CAPT. W.). Mr. Bygrave, was ever anything so fortunate! Her brother’s dying, and she is resolved to start for Switzerland to-day.

CAPT. W. And you, Mr. Vanstone, for London the day after; when, having arranged all the preliminaries, by the time your worthy housekeeper has reached her brother’s side, you and your young bride will have reached Scotland on your wedding tour.

VANS. Oh, rapture! Dear Miss Bygrave! (
he approaches
MAGDALEN
ardently.
)

VOICE OF MAD. L. (
off
L. 1. E. ). Mr. Vanstone!

VANS. I’m coming, my good Lecompte. (
he goes into house,
MAGDALEN’S
head falls on the back of the chair.
)

CAPT. W. I think I shall touch my two hundred pounds. (
stands rubbing his hands.
)

CURTAIN.

ACT V.

SCENE. —
Aaron’s Buildings, Regent’s Park. A Sitting Room in a Lodging House.

CAPTAINS KIRKE
and
WRAGGE
discovered at table,
R.

CAPTAIN KIRKE. And she married this Mr. Vanstone?

WRAG. Yes, my dear sir, she married him about a week after you left Aldborough, and married him as I have told you.

CAPT. K. To regain the properly which herself and sister had virtually been robbed of?

WRAG. Precisely so.

CAPT. K. When, on one occasion, during her absence to visit her sister in London, her husband fell again into the hands of his old housekeeper, who induced him to revoke the will which he had made entirely in her favor, and leave everything at his death to his cousin, Mr. George Bartram.

WAG. Exactly so again.

CAPT. K Shortly after which he died, and Mrs. Vanstone found herself reduced to utter destitution.

WRAG. Such was the wind up, sir, of this most melancholy story.

CAPT. K. (
aside
). She has withheld nothing from me, then — she has told all, without reserve.

WRAG. The consequence of her misfortune being that she was led to hide herself from her friends, and taken refuge in this poor lodging, where, illness overtaking her, and her money being gone, she was actually in danger of being carried to a hospital; when, most fortunately, you happened to pass her door, and recognising, saved her from that miserable catastrophe.

CAPT. K. Well, well!

WRAG. Prompted, of course, by the circumstance that your respective fathers were old friends and brother officers in Canada — though I must be allowed to add that the sympathy you showed —
 
— -

CAPT. K. Add nothing, sir, I beg; what I have done for Miss Vanstone has been abundantly repaid by her convalescence, and my also having the happiness of aiding in restoring her to her friends. Her sister, as you are aware, is coming here to-day to remove her to her own home.

WRAG. And, of course, you are also aware, sir, who that sister is become?

CAPT. K. No; I only know that Miss Norah Vanstone —
 
—

WRAG. Within the past few weeks has changed her name to that of Mrs. Bartram.

CAPT. K. Is it possible?

WRAG. It’s the fact, sir. Mr. Bartram met her at some friend’s house during the time we were all at Aldborough, and would have proposed to her at once, only that his uncle, the admiral, was then living, who wanted him to marry some one else. As soon, however, as he was his own master, he followed his own wishes, and —
 
—

CAPT. K. And her end is gained, then, after all — the wealth and right for which she struggled is now become her sister’s.

WRAG. Her sister’s, if not her own.

CAPT. K. (
aside
). She will be rich herself, then — will have a home and friends, and I must make up my mind to say farewell to her forever.

MRS. WRAGGE
enters,
L. D.

MRS. W. Oh, if you please, Captain Kirke —
 
—

WRAG. Stand straight

MRS. W. Yes, dear.

WRAG. Shoe down again.

MRS. W. Yes, dear. If you please, sir, Mrs. Vanstone is very sorry to keep you waiting, but will see you in a minute.

CAPT. K. Tell her I beg she will not hurry herself. Now I remember I’ve a call to make close by, and will be back in half an hour. (
aside
) Yes, a turn in the open air will give me courage for this parting.

[
Exit,
D.
in
F.

MAGDALEN
enters,
L. D.

MAG. Is he gone?

WRAG. Only for a moment, my dear child; a little engagement to attend to, and will be back again directly.

MAG. (
takes chair by table,
R. —
aside
). He will return, of course; he would never depart without seeing me.

WRAG. And now, my dear child, let your old friend tell you how delighted he is to see you so far restored to health. I am really delighted, honestly delighted, to see you again, and getting well. Ah, I have often thought of you, have often missed you, have often said to myself — well, no matter what — clear the stage and drop the curtain on the past. You are beginning to look yourself again, and I — be equally candid — tell me if I do not look the very picture of a prosperous man?

MAG. You do, indeed.

WRAG. And the reason — you’re naturally anxious to know it — you’re a woman and a friend. My dear girl, since we’ve parted, I’ve slightly modified my pursuits. I’ve shifted from moral agriculture to medical. Formerly I preyed on public sympathy, now I prey on the public stomach. Incredible as it may appear, I am at last a man with an income; the founders of my fortune are three in number — their names are aloes, scammony and gamboge. In plainer words, I am now living on a pill.

MAG. A pill?

WRAG. A pill. I made a little money by my friendly connection with you. I made a little more by the death of Mrs. Wragge’s aunt. Sit straight, madam, I desire you. I invested all my money in advertisements, getting my drugs and boxes on credit, and the result is, here I am, a grand financial fact, with a balance at my banker’s, a servant in livery, and a gig — solvent, flourishing, popular, and all upon a pill.

MAG. I can’t say you surprise me.

WRAG. No, no. I merely sustain my character; advertisement is the thing, my child, advertisement is the thing. There is not a form of appeal possible which I am not making to the world at this moment. Hire the last new novel, there I am inside the boards of the book. Send for the last new song, open the leaves, and I drop out of it. Take a ‘bus, I fly into the windows in red. Buy a box of tooth powder, I wrap it up for you in blue. Seat yourself at the theatre, I flutter down on you in yellow. Let me quote a few of my titles from my last week’s issue. Proverbial title: A pill in time saves nine. Familiar title: Excuse me, how’s your poor stomach? Patriotic title: What are the three characteristics of an Englishman? His hearth, his home, his pill.

MAG. And all this, you say, succeeds?

WRAG. Succeeds! Look at my shop — an advertisement itself. Behind one counter are four-and-twenty young men in white aprons, making up the pill; behind another are four-and-twenty in white cravats, making up the boxes; at the bottom are three elderly accountants, posting my financial transactions; over the door are my name and portrait in colossal proportions, with my motto: “Down with the Doctors.” Mrs. Wragge contributes her quota to this prodigious enterprise of mine.

MAG. Mrs. Wragge?

MRS. W. Yes, dear, I —
 
—

WRAG. Silence, and sit straight. She is the celebrated woman whom I have cured with my extraordinary medicine of every complaint under the sun. Her picture is engraven on the wrapper with the following inscription: “Before she took the pill, you might have blown her away with a feather; look at her now!” Such, my dear child, is the history of my connection with British medicine — such the cause of my rise to fortune and popularity — and also the happy reason of my being conducted to your door. Repairing to Aldborough to establish an agency, I met with a letter from Captain Kirke, to the hotel keeper at that place, offering a reward to discover your friends, and being one of them, I trust I made a point to come to town and present myself forthwith.

MAG. It was very kind of you, and I thank you, deeply thank you, since it was by your means my dear Norah came to comfort me.

WRAG. Who comes to-day to take you home with her to her pleasant retreat in the Isle of Wight.

MAG. Yes; and ‘tis near the time she promised to be here.

VOICE OF NORAH (
off at back
). My sister is in her room, you say?

MAG. Ah, she is there! Norah, dear, come in! (NORAH
enters
D.
in
F.,
and crossing to
MAGDALEN,
embraces her eagerly.
)

NORAH. Dearest Magdalen! and how do you feel to-day?

MAG. Is it necessary to ask me? Do you not see I am almost well?

NORAH Friends of yours?

WRAG. Yes, Mrs. Bartram, old friends and sincere ones; allow me also to add, I am an old friend of your family, and connection, in fact, of your ever dear lamented mother — Captain Horatio Wragge, — you must have heard her speak of me — and Mrs. Wragge, allow me to present her. Stand straight, madam, I desire you; more to the right — more still.

MRS. W. Yes, dear.

WRAG. You may have heard of me also in connection with my well-known pill, to be had in neat boxes, name upon the wrapper, price thirteen-pence-halfpenny, Government stamp included, accompanied by portrait of a patient, who you might have blown away with a feather before she took the pill, and whom you are now simply requested to look at in the form before you. Stand straight, madam, I command you. Good morning to you, madam; good morning, my dear Mrs. Vanstone. I trust the Isle of Wight will completely effect your cure. If not, pray remember as a last resource — you can always command my pill. Good morning.