Complete Works of Wilkie Collins (2006 page)

Mr. P.
(
looking towards the door on the right.
) Hush!

(
The door opens, and
MAGDALEN
re-appears, pale, and with an expression of suppressed suffering.
MR. PENDRIL
and
MISS GARTH
look at her in momentary embarrassment. She pauses as she crosses the stage at the back, and speaks.
)

Mag.
Don’t let me interrupt you. Norah is reading. I am going up to my room.

(
She goes out slowly on the left.
)

Miss G.
(
to
MR. PENDRIL). We are alone again. Go on!

Mr. P.
I have just returned from St. Crux. The admiral has revealed the secret of the Trust. The person named in it is — George Bartram!

Miss G.
(
clasping her hands in breathless interest
). Oh!

Mr. P.
Wait! The admiral is instructed to give the money to his nephew — on his nephew’s marriage only. And, further, on condition that George does
not
marry Magdalen Vanstone.

Miss G.
(
despondently
). Is this the good news you promised me a moment since?

Mr. P.
Wait once more! You know the admiral’s temper. Imagine him tied down by the condition I have just mentioned, and informed, by George’s own lips, that George will die a single man, unless he marries Magdalen. Does your woman’s wit see a way out of that?

Miss G.
Suppose George marries Magdalen? What does the Trust tell the admiral to do with the money in that case?

Mr. P.
You would have made a good lawyer, Miss Garth! You have hit the weak point in Mr. Noel Vanstone’s cunningly-devised letter. In the case you have mentioned, the money remains with the admiral. The Trust is content with the one cruel condition which prevents Magdalen from recovering her birthright as George’s wife. The Trust entirely forgets that Magdalen has a sister, and never once mentions Norah’s name!

Miss G.
(
starting to her feet
). The admiral —
 
— ?

Mr. P.
The admiral restores the property to Norah. Andrew Vanstone’s daughters inherit their birthright, after all!

Miss G.
Oh, my darlings! my darlings!

(
She sinks back into her chair.
)

Mr. P.
(
continuing
). And mind this! I was not the man who found the way out of the difficulty. It was George. I was not the man who contended with the admiral’s scruples, and conquered them. It was George.

Miss G.
Where is he? Let me thank him on my bended knees.

Mr. P.
He waits for Magdalen’s decision. He shrinks from owing to her sense of obligation, what he will only owe to her love. “Tell nobody but Miss Garth, in the first place,” he said to me. “Leave it to her to break the news to Norah, and leave it to both of them only to mention me to Magdalen, if they think right.”

Miss G.
If I think right? Magdalen shall reward him for this, if I drag her to the church door with my own hands! Where is she? (
She rings a bell. The Maidservant enters.
) Miss Magdalen?

The Servant.
Miss Magdalen has gone out, ma’am.

Miss G.
Gone out? She said she was going up to her room.

The Servant.
I found this note in her room, ma’am. (
She gives
MISS GARTH
the note, and goes out.
)

Miss G.
(
looking at the direction
). Addressed to me! (
She opens the note, shudders, and looks away from it.
) The last time she left us, there was a note found in her room. I daren’t read it!

(
She hands the letter to
MR. PENDRIL.)

Mr. P.
(
after looking at the letter
). Gone!

(
The scene closes on them, changing to

SECOND SCENE. — (
Front Scene.
)
A room in the village inn at St. Crux. A large bow-window open in the Flat, with nothing seen through it but the sky. Entrances at the side, right and left. A rumour of voices heard, as proceeding from a crowd under the window.

A Waiter at the inn enters on the left, followed by
MAGDALEN,
in the dress of a respectable servant.

The Waiter.
You can’t see the doctor, miss.

Mag.
Why not?

The Waiter.
Lord bless you! he has roused up the whole village. He’s selling the Pill. (
Pointing to the open window.
) You may see him for yourself.

MAGDALEN
goes to the window — then turns once more to the waiter.
)

Mag.
Send down to him, and say I am here. The doctor will see
me.

The Waiter.
What name, miss?

Mag.
No name. Say “the parlour-maid wishes to speak to him.” (
The Waiter goes out on the right.
MAGDALEN
continues wearily.
) Three days — only three days since I left London — and the purpose to which I have devoted myself revolts me already! Has George put a new nature into me? Go where I may, I am haunted by the thought of him. To-morrow shall find me freed from this vile disguise!

Enter
WRAGGE
on the right.

Wragge.
My dear girl, what did I bargain for? I said it in so many words. “Command my services, as long as you don’t interfere with the sale of the Pill.”

Mag.
I have a reason for interfering. Make up your mind this time to the loss of your profits. I leave St. Crux to-night.

Wragge.
Discovered?

Mag.
Not even suspected.

Wragge.
Have you laid hands on the Trust?

Mag.
No.

Wragge.
And yet you want to leave to-night?

Mag.
George Bartram is in search of me. George Bartram is expected tonight at St. Crux.

Wragge
(
resignedly
). I see! I see! I am sorry for your sister. Her interests are at stake, poor soul, as well as my profits. (
He points to the window.
) I have left my young man below to represent me with the sick public. One question before I go back. Do you know where the Trust is at this moment?

Mag.
The admiral has locked it up in an old bureau that stands in the banqueting-hall.

Wragge.
Can you get at his keys?

Mag.
I can’t steal his keys — no, not even for Norah’s sake.

Wragge.
Stuff and nonsense! Where does he keep the keys at night?

Mag.
In a basket on the table at his bedside.

Wragge.
Does he lock his door?

Mag.
I don’t know. I daren’t try.

Wragge.
What are you afraid of?

Mag.
I am afraid of meeting him. (
In a whisper.
) He is a sleep-walker! The servants warned me, on my first night at St. Crux, not to be frightened if I chanced to meet him walking in his sleep. I should be frightened out of my senses if I met him.

Wragge
(
looking towards the window
). The sick public is suspiciously quiet. (
To
MAGDALEN.) I must attend to my customers. I have only one word more to say. Tell me plainly — have you courage enough to go back to the house to-night?

Mag.
Why do you ask the question?

Wragge.
I hate being beaten; and I hate losing my profits. In plain English, I mean to have a try for the Trust myself. (
Aside
) A bit of wire — in my hand — will open the bureau as well as the admiral’s key.

Mag.
how are you to get at the Trust?

Wragge.
That is my business. When do they go to bed at St. Crux? Early?

Mag.
The lights are out in the Banqueting Hall at ten.

Wragge.
Go back, and put a candle in one of the windows when it’s safe for me to come in. (MAGDALEN
hesitates.
) Your sister’s interests are concerned as well as mine. Yes? or No?

Mag.
(
with an effort
). Yes.

(
Voices are heard under the window. “The doctor! the doctor!”
)

Wragge
(
hurrying to the window
). The voice of the sick public! The cry of the people for the Man of the People! (
To
MAGDALEN.) I won’t fail you. Go!

Mag.
(
at the left entrance
). Oh, that the night was over, and the risk run! (
She goes out.
)

Wragge
(
addressing the mob from the window
). Gentlemen! here I am again, after an interval of necessary repose. Do my eyes deceive me, or is it possible that there are some of you who have not yet purchased the Pill? I address myself to those persons. I put a question to those persons in Roman history. My suffering friends! what do you think of the Emperor Nero? “A monster of cruelty,” I hear somebody say. Nothing of the sort! The private correspondence of the period, lately turned up, proves Nero’s cruelties to have been solely attributable to Nero’s bile. If I had been driving about ancient Rome at the time, Nero might hare descended to posterity in the character of a thoroughly estimable man! Moral: profit by your historical experience, and buy the Pill.

MRS. WRAGGE
enters on the right.

Mrs. W.
If you please, captain —

Wragge.
(
seizing her before she can say more, placing her in front of the window, and continuing his address.
) You won’t buy the Pill? You won’t profit by historical experience? Then take contemporary fact. Let me introduce you to this lady. (
Aside to
MRS. WRAGGE.) Curtsy to them directly! (MRS. WRAGGE
makes several brisk curtsies. The mob cheer.
) Inhabitants of St. Crux! Here is a case of fifty years indescribable agony from heartburn, indigestion, asthma, pleurisy, flatulence, elephantiasis, delusions, fits. Before she took the Pill you might have blown this patient away with a feather. Look at her now! (
A loud burst of cheering.
WRAGGE
turns in triumph from the window, and releases his wife.
) The sale’s set going again. (
To
MRS. WRAGGE.) What do you think of your husband’s eloquence? The ancient Orpheus only moved rocks. The modern Orpheus empties pockets. I am the modern Orpheus.