Complete Works of Wilkie Collins (2022 page)

Fosco (gravely).
Miss Halcombe! before you see Anne Catherick, I have a word to say to you — in the interests of your tranquillity, in the character of your friend.

Mar. (shuddering).
His voice curdles my blood! His eye freezes me with horror!

(She looks at
WALTER.)

Wal. (approaching her).
Compose yourself. I won’t leave you alone with him.

(FOSCO,
who has calmly waited his opportunity to speak again, once more addresses
MISS HALCOMBE,
and once more passes
WALTER
by unnoticed.)

Fosco (to
MARIAN,
with strong, but suppressed, emotion).
No interests but yours could have prevailed on me to come here to-day. The one exception in the world is, Miss Halcombe. I make that exception against my own better sense; with the full knowledge in myself that I am trusting to a calculation of chances in which I may be fatally deceived. Why do I do this? I do it, because Miss Halcombe’s peace of mind is precious to me beyond my own. Noble woman! my tongue is tied by a terrible necessity. But my sentiments are at your feet. My heart bleeds for you!

Mar. (to
WALTER). Oh, if I could but say the words which are trembling on my lips!

Wal.
The time has not come for saying them yet!
(He addresses
FOSCO.) You see for yourself, sir, the effect which your presence produces on this lady. State your business with her plainly.

Fosco (suddenly turning on
WALTER). Who are you? Your name, sir, if you please!

Wal.
I have no reason to conceal my name. Walter Hartright.

Fosco.
Mr. Hartright! I find you intruding yourself into affairs with which you have absolutely no concern. I warn you — take care how you cross my path a second time!

Mar. (indignantly).
This is beyond endurance!

(She attempts to address
FOSCO.)

Wal. (his eyes firmly fixed on
FOSCO’S
face, lifting his hand to
MARIAN). Not a word!

Fosco (continuing).
Know this, sir! If you were twenty Mr. Hartrights instead of one, I have but to lift my hand and to brush you out of my way! I live my own life; I go on to my own ends, in spite of you — sustained by my sublime indifference; self-balanced by my impenetrable calm.

Wal. (still steadily eyeing him).
Something tells me, Count Fosco, that a day is coming when I shall disturb that calm.

Fosco.
When that day does come, Mr. Hartright, something tells ME —
(he pauses, and suddenly puts his hand on WALTER’S breast)
— it will be the last day of your life.

Mar. (suddenly interfering).
Walter! take your hat!
(She turns, strongly constraining herself, to
FOSCO,
without looking at him.)
Am I to understand that Count Fosco wishes to speak to me alone?

Fosco (with a low bow).
For five minutes, Miss Halcombe.

Mar. (to
WALTER). Leave me.

Wal.
While
he
is here?

Mar.
What have I to fear? It’s
you
who cannot remain in the same room with him — not I. Go! (WALTER
hesitates.)
For my sake, go!

Wal. (taking his hat).
You leave me no alternative. I will wait outside the house if you want me.

(He walks to the door at the back, turns for a moment, and looks at
FOSCO,
then goes out.)

Fosco (to
MARIAN). Permit me to offer you a chair. (MARIAN
declines, by a gesture.
FOSCO
respectfully persists.)
You are weak — you have not recovered yet. I will not exceed my five minutes; I will not presume to be seated myself.

(He again offers the chair.
MARIAN,
unwillingly influenced, seats herself.
FOSCO
retires to a little distance and waits until she is composed enough to listen to him.)

Mar. (aside).
Something moves him deeply — even
he
may say the words which betray him. Oh, Laura, it is in your cause that I submit to this!

Fosco.
Miss Halcombe! You are on the brink of a terrible revelation. You are getting nearer, minute by minute, to a fearful shock. I am here to prepare you to meet it.

Mar. (aside).
What does he mean?

Fosco.
You are advancing, blindfold, at this moment, and in this room, to a discovery that will shake you to the soul. You are trembling — unconscious of the truth — on the brink of a new crisis in your life.
(Advancing a step.)
When I leave you here by yourself, summon your sublime courage. You will want it.
(He points to the door on the right; his voice sinks low in horror)
When that door opens — on my life and honour you will want it! (MARIAN
interrupts him by a gesture of contempt)
I am speaking the truth. Look at me!

Mar. (looking at him for the first time).
Murderer!!!

Fosco (with true emotion).
Oh, I pity you! I pity you!

Mar. (rising indignantly, stung by the insult).
Leave the room!

Fosco (with dignity; feeling the insult on his side).
Compose yourself, Miss Halcombe. My errand here is done. I have yielded immeasurable concessions to the first — last — weakness of Fosco’s life, inspired by YOU.
(He bows low, retires to the door at the back, turns, and points again to the door on the right.)
For the last time, rouse the great heart that is in you, before that door opens. (MISS HALCOMBE,
spell-bound by the terrible sincerity of his voice and manner, fixes her eyes on the door.)
While you stand there, you are standing at the gate of the grave! The dead will walk out on you!

(He looks at her for the last time, and leaves the room.)

Mar. (slowly repeating his last words).
I am standing at the gate of the grave? The dead will walk out on me?
(She shudders under a momentary thrill of terror, and calls softly under her breath.)
Walter!
(A pause. She looks round her slowly)
No: I sent Walter away.
(Another
pause. She looks towards the door on the right.)
Hush! It’s opening.
(She presses her hand on her bosom.)
My heart! my heart!

(The door on the right opens. The Matron appears, sees
MISS HALCOMBE
alone, and draws back out of sight.)

The Mat. (speaking outside).
Anne Catherick, there is a lady to see you. Anne Catherick, go into the room.

(LAURA
enters slowly on the right. The door is closed behind her. Her face and manner show that confinement in the asylum has already shaken her mind. She pauses near the door, looks at
MARIAN,
and shakes her head sadly.
MARIAN,
on her side, stands with eyes fixed in agony.
FOSCO’S
warning strengthens her first instinctive doubt of the person before her.)

Laura (pausing at the door; uncertain whether it is
MARIAN,
or the phantom of her own imagination).
Dreaming of her last night. Dreaming of her now. Oh me! mad! mad!

(MARIAN
speaks, without moving, following the succession of her own ideas — in a whisper.)

Marian (to herself).
Anne Catherick?
(A pause.)
No. (LAURA
advances a step; still uncertain of the reality of what she sees.)

Marian (as before).
A spirit from the dead?
(A pause.)
No.

(LAURA
advances again. The idea that it is
MARIAN
herself dawns on her mind. She holds out her hand timidly to
MARIAN,
as if not quite certain yet.)

Marian (breathless: her voice choked by emotion).
Laura?

(An answering smile appears on
LAURA’S
face. A cry of rapture bursts from
MARIAN.
They rush into each other’s arms.)

THE CURTAIN FALLS.

THE END OF THE THIRD ACT.

ACT IV.

IN TWO SCENES.

FIRST SCENE.

DATE: September 26, 1862. Morning.
PLACE: A Room in the Village Inn at Limmeridge, Cumberland.

Entrances at the side, right and left. A large open window at the back. A table and chairs. The rise of the curtain discovers
MARIAN, LAURA, WALTER HARTRIGHT, PESCA,
and
MR. KYRLE. MARIAN
is seated apart, supporting
LAURA,
whose head rests on her shoulder.
WALTER, PESCA,
and
MR. KYRLE
are seated round the table, on which papers and writing materials are placed.

Wal. (indignantly addressing
MR. KYRLE). And you expect me to be patient?

Mr. K.
Yes, Mr. Hartright, as your friend and your legal adviser, I expect you to be patient.
(He turns to
MARIAN.) How is Lady Glyde?

Mar.
As you see, quite worn out.
(Looking down fondly at
LAURA.) Denied to her face by the people among whom she has lived from a child! Branded as an adventuress — here, on her own land, and in sight of her own home! Is it for
this
that we have rescued her from the madhouse, and brought her to the place of her birth?

Wal. (bitterly.)
It is
we
who are exposed as impostors by Count Fosco. It is
we
who have planned a conspiracy and committed a fraud.
(He points to
LAURA.) The tenantry on the Fairlie estate have seen her here to-day, a living woman — and they still believe the lie which records her death on the tombstone in the churchyard!

Pesca.
Patience, my friend. Count Fosco has possessed himself of their confidence. Count Fosco has blinded them to the truth.

Enter a Chambermaid on the left.

Chamber. (to
MARIAN). The room is ready, ma’am, if the lady wishes to rest.

Mar. (rising, with
LAURA). Come, Laura. After what you have endured to-day you need repose.

Laura (faintly).
Where is Walter? (WALTER
approaches.)
You won’t leave me here? When you go back to London you will take me with you?