Complete Works of Wilkie Collins (2055 page)

He spoke very positively, ma’am.

MISS G.

That will do. (LOUISA
goes out.
) What should the landlord know about it? Of course the landlord is wrong! Those positive people generally are wrong. I wonder where the Diligence office is? What! distrusting him again? I’ll go and employ myself. I’ll go and pack up. (
She rises and checks herself.
) No! I must put his table right first. What did he tell me about this newspaper? He said I was to put it by in his desk, with the ink mark uppermost. (
Looks for the ink mark, and finds it.
) What is this on the margin? a stain of blood? (
Looking at it closer, more in curiosity than in alarm.
) It looks like a finger-mark in blood. Manuel! I remember my brooch pricked him! The sight of it sickens me. I’ll cut it out with my scissors. What was the wretch reading when he stained the paper in this way? “Foundering of the brig
Speranza
.” (
A pause. She has hitherto shown curiosity and annoyance, but no alarm. The newspaper now drops from her hand, and the fist suspicion of the truth dawns on her.
) Am I dreaming? Am I mad? (
A pause.
) Was it after I saw him with the newspaper, when he spoke of vessels springing leaks and owners being drowned on board? or was it before? After! (
The whole truth bursts on her.
) If Armadale sails, he sails to his death, and I am concerned in it! (
She rings the bell violently.
LOUISA
enters with a note in her hand.
) Get a carriage instantly! I must go down to the port!

LOUISA.

A messenger has just come from the port, ma’am, and has left this note for you.

MISS G. (
snatching the note from her
).

My husband’s writing! (
She reads.
) “My own Love, — I cannot reconcile it to my conscience to deceive you, even for a good end. Allan has need of me. I have gone with Allan.” (
The note falls from her hand. She stands for a moment struck speechless by the discovery.
)

LOUISA (
looking at her in terror
).

My mistress! my dear mistress! (
At the sound of the servant’s voice
MISS G.
suddenly rallies into action, and makes distractedly for the door.
LOUSIA
follows, and holds her back.
) Where are you going, ma’am? You have not got your shawl; you have not got your hat!

MISS G. (
struggling with
LOUISA).

Let me by! I shall kill you! Let me by! (
The muffled report of a gun is heard from the sea.
MISS G.,
with a cry of horror, releases
LOUISA,
and totters a few steps towards the window. At the same moment the topsails of a schooner-yacht — no other part of the vessel being visible — are seen gliding into view through the window.
)

MISS G. (
petrified with horror
).

The yacht! the yacht!

THE END OF THE THIRD ACT.

ACT IV.

SCENE. —
The drawing-room of
MISS GWILT’S
lodgings in London. A door of entrance in the centre, at the back, by which visitors enter and go out. Other doors at the sides, right and left. The door on the right is supposed to lead into
MISS GWILT’S
room. The drawing-room is small and modestly furnished. Writing materials are placed on a side table.

At the rise of the curtain the stage is vacant. A bell, from below, is heard to ring twice.
LOUISA
enters by the door on the left.

LOUISA.

No peace for anybody in these London lodgings! The door-bell is going, first for one lodger, and then for another, from morning to night. One ring for the first floor, two rings for the second, and so on up to the garret. This time it’s somebody for us. (
She opens the door at the back. A shop porter enters with a milliner’s basket.
)

THE PORTER.

Number twelve, Bearwood Buildings, second floor?

LOUISA.

Quite right. That’s here.

THE PORTER (
opening his basket
).

Mourning bonnet and mourning mantle for a lady. Paid for at the time. Anything for the porter, Miss?

LOUISA.

No. The shop charges quite enough, without paying the porter. (
She places the bonnet and mantle on a chair.
) Ah, my poor mistress! so young and so nice-looking, and obliged to wear this horrid black?

THE PORTER.

Come, I say, Miss! — don’t you abuse black, if you please! It’s the most becoming colour a lady can wear.

LOUISA.

What do
you
know about it?

THE PORTER.

In our mourning warehouse, Miss, we all know about it. There’s nothing like black — let your complexion be what it may! If you’re light, black sets you off. If you’re dark, black’s dark like you. Did you say there was nothing for the porter, Miss?

LOUISA (
relenting
).

You are a very impudent man!

THE PORTER.

And you are a very pretty girl! And what’s the natural consequence? (
He kisses her in spite of her resistance. At the same moment
DR. DOWNWARD
enters by the centre door. The
PORTER
touches his hat, and goes out.
LOUISA
appeals to the
DOCTOR
in great confusion.
)

LOUISA.

I am not to blame, if you please, sir? He’s a low fellow. I shall complain to his master!

DR. D. (
benevolently
).

My good girl, I am no saint. Young fellows will be young fellows — and stealing kisses is the most excusable of all forms of petty larceny. (
Changing to a tone of the deepest sympathy.
) How is your mistress?

LOUISA.

Very poorly, sir. She hasn’t had a night’s unbroken rest since the dreadful news came to her at Naples.

DR. D.

You were at Naples with her, were you not?

LOUISA.

Yes, sir. I was with her when the news came that the yacht was lost, with every soul on board.

DR. D.

Lost, with every soul on board! I knew Mr. Armadale, I knew Mr. Midwinter. How inexpressibly shocking! Both drowned!

LOUISA.

Both drowned, sir.

DR. D.

Were any remains of the yacht found at sea?

LOUISA.

Yes, sir. They found some furniture floating about, and one of the yacht’s boats upside down.

DR. D.

Were any bodies found near the upset boat?

LOUISA.

Only one, sir, and that owing to his having a lifebelt on. The doctor said he must have died of exhaustion. A storm came up unexpectedly that night, and the life was beat out of him, like, by the sea.

DR. D.

Was the body identified?

LOUISA.

Yes, sir. It was the body of the sailing-master of the yacht. (
She turns away, and re-arranges the bonnet and mantle on the chair.
)

DR. D. (
aside
).

Most satisfactory! Captain Manuel first does all I want of him, and then gets beaten to death in his lifebelt by the sea. Much obliged to the sea! (
To
LOUISA.) Has your mistress any plans for the future?

LOUISA.

My mistress thinks of living quietly at Thorpe-Ambrose. (
She approaches the side door on the right.
)

DR. D. (
aside
).

I venture to predict she will find Thorpe-Ambrose too hot to hold her! (
To
LOUISA). Are you going to your mistress’s room, my good girl?

LOUISA.

Yes, sir.

DR. D.

You had better say I am here, in case she may be well enough to see me.

LOUISA.

What name, sir?

DR. D.

Doctor Downward. (LOUISA
goes out by the door on the right.
) So my fair friend persists in retiring to Thrope-Ambrose! Have I had time to set the necessary scandal afloat before she gets there? It’s a question of dates — let me look at my pocket-book. (
He produces his pocket-book, and looks back through it; then reads
). “Tenth of the month — a letter with a mourning border, from my fair friend. She is coming back to England, and she proposes to see me in London, on her way to Thorpe-Ambrose. — Eleventh of the month. Sent my fair friend’s character down to Thorpe-Ambrose before her — in an anonymous letter to Major Milroy. Purport of the letter: — Major Milroy has been deceived, and Miss Milroy has been cruelly injured, by an abandoned woman. The Major supposed — as Miss Milroy supposed — that Miss Gwilt left Thorpe-Ambrose to marry Mr. Midwinter. It now appears that Miss Gwilt used poor Mr. Midwinter as a blind to hide her designs on rich Mr. Armadale. Positive proof of this statement enclosed, in the shape of a copy of the marriage certificate, showing that ‘Lydia Gwilt’ was married privately in London to ‘Alan Armadale.’“ (
He puts back the pocket-book.
) Nobody at Thorpe-Ambrose knows that there is a second “Allan Armadale,” and that Midwinter is the man! The widow’s income is to be had for the asking. (
He looks towards the door on the right.
) And here comes the woman who must ask for it!

(
Enter
MISS GWILT
from the right, dressed in widow’s weeds. The rapid changes from one feeling to another which have hitherto characterised her have all disappeared. A settled depression is expressed in her manner throughout the earlier part of her interview with the
DOCTOR.)

MISS G.

Thank you, Doctor Downward, for coming to see me.

DR. D. (
taking both her hands in his
).

Oh, how sad this is! My dear, dear lady! My poor afflicted friend!

MISS G.

I am not ungrateful for your kindness, but I am beyond the reach of sympathy. When women are in distress, you know what a relief it is to them to cry. I have not had that relief since my husband’s death. The tone you are so good as to take is useless with
me.
Sit down. I have something to say to you.

DR. D. (
aside, placing chairs
)

I don’t like her language! I don’t like her looks!

(
They seat themselves.
)

MISS G.

I wish to consult you as a medical man. Do you detect any serious change in me since we met last?

DR. D. (
assuming his professional manner
).

Turn a little this way, if you please. More towards the light. Thank you. (
He scrutinises her face closely, feels the pulsation at her temples and her wrist, leans back in his chair and considers, then speaks again.
) Must I tell you the truth?