Complete Works of Wilkie Collins (2063 page)

MISS G.

Leave me! (
Looking at him with contempt.
) You are trembling.

DR. D.

Am I? (
He puts his finger on his pulse.
) Quicker than usual, by Jupiter! (
He goes out.
)

MISS G. (
holding up the bottle
).

Four pourings from this and the poisoned air steals in and fills the fatal room. (
She advances to No. 1, and lifts the cover of the pedestal.
) Die, you who have divided my husband with me! Die, you who have made me the woman I am! (
She drops the first pouring into the funnel, then draws an easy chair close to the pedestal, seats herself, and looks at her watch, then fixes her eyes on the door of No. 2.
) Is he sleeping? Is he waking? Is he thinking of
me?
Oh, the dreadful stillness! Even the wind in the garden is dead to-night. (
She rises and pushes her hair back.
) Something throbs and burns in my head. My hair — how clinging and heavy my hair is to-night! (
She returns to the pedestal after another look at her watch.
) The minutes are counted out — the interval is past! Will it be easier the second time than the first? (
She pours again from the bottle — pauses, shuddering — then puts the bottle down upon the table.
) Two more intervals to pass!

(
A long pause. She remains standing by the table. The candle, still alight in room No. 1, begins to grow dim.
MIDWINTER,
who has hitherto sat motionless, as if sinking into sleep from fatigue, now stirs in his chair mechanically.
)

MID. (
to himself, in low, faint tones
).

How heavy the air is to-night! (
His head sinks on his breast, his eyes close.
MISS GWILT
looks at her watch, and speaks once more.
)

MISS G.

The minutes stand still — the silence petrifies the restless time! Nothing moves but the chill that creeps over me — nothing sounds but the fever throbbing in my head!

(
The flame of the candle in
MIDWINTER’S
room sinks lower.
MIDWINTER
moves again. He notices the waning light, half rises, drops back again into the chair, rises again, holding by the table; looks wildly round him, and cries out faintly.
)

MID.

Allan!

MISS G. (
just hearing the cry
).

Who calls “Allan”? (
She looks at No. 2, then glances back again at No. 1.
) Armadale is here!

(MIDWINTER
reaches the door, supports himself against it with one hand, and feels with the other for the key. He rallies his failing strength, and calls again,
“ALLAN!”

MISS G.

My husband’s voice! God in heaven! they have changed rooms. (
She tries to force in the locked door.
) Turn the key! the lock! the lock! (MIDWINTER,
by a last effort, finds the key in the lock, turns it, half opens the door, and falls forward insensible into his wife’s arms. Remaining by the door, she places him in the easy chair which stands near the pedestal, and supports his head on her bosom. She feels the poisoned air coming from the room.
)

MISS G.

The poisoned air! It will kill him in my arms! (
She closes the door, looks at
MIDWINTER
again, and places her hand on his heart.
) Dead? No! I feel a fluttering at his heart. What is this in his hand? (
She opens
MIDWINTER’S
left hand and finds the letter, on which his fingers have remained mechanically closed.
) My letter! my letter, written to him in the first days of our marriage! Oh, my husband, was there a little corner in your heart still left for me? How can I be grateful for the love that has not quite forgotten me, even yet! There is one way, and but one! I can free him from me for ever! (
She stoops over him and kisses his forehead.
) The last kiss, love! — a dying woman has that privilege, even when she is a wretch like me! (
She rests
MIDWINTER’S
head on the back of the chair, and takes the bottle from the table.
) The one atonement I can make to him is the atonement of my death. (
She pours the whole contents of the bottle into the funnel, and returns to
MIDWINTER.) Oh, he lives! he looks at me!

MID. (
faintly
).

Allan? (
Recognising his wife.
) You? you here?

MISS G.

You have saved Armadale, and you have saved him from
me.
Ask no more. (
She knocks at the door of No. 2.
MIDWINTER’S
head sinks back again on the chair.
)

ALLAN (
speaking within
).

What is it?

MISS G. (
speaking through the door
).

Your friend wants you. (
She draws back.
)

ALLAN (
opening his door
).

You! (
Turning from
MISS G.,
and hurrying to
MIDWINTER.) Good God! Is he dead?

MISS G.

Faint — only faint. Draw him nearer to the window. Give him air.

(ALLAN
draws the chair back a little, then throws up the window; then turns and speaks to
MISS G.)

ALLAN.

Where is the Doctor?

MISS G.

Don’t trust him! Rouse the house!

(
She crosses to the door of No. 1, and prepares to open it.
)

ALLAN (
hurrying to the drawing-room door
).

Help! help!

(
He goes out.
MIDWINTER,
roused by
ALLAN’S
voice, raises himself feebly in the chair, and sees his wife standing at the door of No. 1.
)

MID.

Lydia!

MISS G. (
with infinite tenderness
).

My name, as he used to speak it! His last word to me is an echo of the old time! (
She returns to him and kneels at his feet.
) I am not all bad. Forgive me — and forget me! Farewell for ever!

(
She enters the room and turns the key in the lock. The next moment the poisoned air overpowers her. She staggers, and drops on the floor. The candle, reduced to its last point of flame, goes out.
)

MID. (
trying vainly to rise
).

Lydia! Lydia!

(
Voices are heard outside.
)

A MAN’S VOICE.

Dr. Downward!

THE DOCTOR’S VOICE.

Who wants me?

THE MAN’S VOICE.

You are my prisoner.

ALLAN’S VOICE.

Neelie!

MISS MILROY’S VOICE.

Allan! Allan!

(MISS MILROY
and
ALLAN
appear together at the drawing-room door. They hasten to
MIDWINTER.
As
ALLAN
bends over him and takes his hand the curtain falls.
)

CURTAIN

A Dramatic Story, in Three Acts.

1877

PERSONS OF THE DRAMA

Franklin Blake.
Godfrey Ablewhite.
Sergeant Cuff.
Betteredge.
Mr. Candy.
Andrew.
A Policeman in Plain Clothes.
Rachel Verinder.
Miss Clack.
Penelope.

SCENE: KENT.

PERIOD: THE PRESENT TIME.

The action of the drama extends over twenty-four hours, and passes entirely in the inner hall of
MISS VERINDER’S
country-house. At the back of the hall is a long gallery, approached by a flight of stairs, and supposed to lead to the bedchambers of the house. The stairs must be so built that persons can pass backwards and forwards behind them, in the part of the hall which is situated under the gallery. Two of the bedchamber doors, leading respectively into the rooms occupied by
FRANKLIN BLAKE
and
GODFREY ABLEWHITE,
are visible to the audience. The other rooms are supposed to be continued off the stage on the left. The entrances are three in number. One, under the gallery, at the back, supposed to lead to the staircase in the outer hall and to the house door. One on the left, at the front of the stage, supposed to lead to
RACHEL’S
boudoir and bedroom. And one opposite, formed by a large window, which opens to the floor, and which is supposed to lead into a rose-garden. The fireplace is on the left, just above the door leading into
RACHEL’S
room. The stage directions refer throughout to the right and left of the actors as they front the audience.

THE FIRST ACT

At the rise of the curtain, the lamps hanging from the ceiling are lit in the hall. The time is between eight and nine o’clock in the evening.
BETTEREDGE
is discovered arranging cold refreshments on a table at the back. He leaves the table and takes a telegram out of his pocket.

Betteredge.
There is one great misfortune in the lives of young ladies in general — they have nothing to do. As a natural consequence, their minds shift about like a weathercock; and every change in the wind blows a new botheration in the way of their unfortunate servants. (
He opens a telegram.
) Here is a proof of it! A week ago, my young mistress telegraphed to me as follows: (
He reads the telegram.
) “Miss Rachel Verinder, London, to Gabriel Betteredge, House Steward, Crowmarsh Hall, Kent. I have made up my mind to pass the rest of the year in town. Cover up the furniture, and set the painters at work.” (
He speaks.
) Very good. I covered up the furniture, and I set the painters to work. (
He folds up the telegram, and produces another.
) An hour ago comes another telegram. “Miss Rachel Verinder,” as before, “to Gabriel Betteredge,” as before. “Uncover the furniture, and turn the painters out. I have made up my mind to pass the rest of the year in the country. Expect me by the seven-forty train from London. I shall bring Miss Clack, and my cousin, Mr. Godfrey Ablewhite. Send to Mr. Candy, and ask him to sup with us.” (
He folds up the second telegram.
) Turn out the painters? All very well! Can I turn out the stink the painters have left behind them? There (
he points to an open space under the cabinet
) are their pots and brushes not cleared away yet. “Invite Mr. Candy?” Well, there’s some sense in inviting him. He’s the doctor at our town here — and he’ll be nice and handy when the smell of the paint has given the whole party the colic. I’ve sent for Mr. Candy! (PENELOPE
hurries in excitedly by the hall door. She is smartly dressed, with gay cap ribbons.
) Here’s a whirlwind in petticoats! What’s wrong now, Penelope?