Harriot-I have
something
of consequence: if you will give
me leave, sir, I will wait till she returns.
me leave, sir, I will wait till she returns.
Warner - World's Best Literature - v07 - Cic to Cuv
He had not moved
since I had laid him down and made his bed, he lay locked in
a deep and quiet sleep.
While I was still looking at him I heard the bedroom door
softly opened. Once more Miss Verinder appeared on the thresh-
old in her pretty summer dress.
"Do me a last favor," she whispered. "Let me watch him
with you. "
I hesitated-not in the interest of propriety; only in the
interest of her night's rest. She came close to me and took my
hand.
-
"I can't sleep; I can't even sit still in my own room," she
said. "Oh, Mr. Jennings, if you were me, only think how you
would long to sit and look at him! Say yes!
Do! "
Is it necessary to mention that I gave way? Surely not!
She drew a chair to the foot of the sofa. She looked at him
in a silent ecstasy of happiness till the tears rose in her eyes.
She dried her eyes and said she would fetch her work. She
fetched her work, and never did a single stitch of it. It lay in
her lap-she was not even able to look away from him long
enough to thread her needle. I thought of my own youth; I
thought of the gentle eyes which had once looked love at me.
In the heaviness of my heart I turned to my Journal for relief,
and wrote in it what is written here.
So we kept our watch together in silence,—one of us absorbed
in his writing; the other absorbed in her love.
Hour after hour he lay in deep sleep. The light of the new
day grew and grew in the room, and still he never moved.
Toward six o'clock I felt the warning which told me that my
pains were coming back. I was obliged to leave her alone with
him for a little while. I said I would go up-stairs and fetch
another pillow for him out of his room. It was not a long attack
this time. In a little while I was able to venture back and let
her see me again.
I found her at the head of the sofa when I returned. She
was just touching his forehead with her lips. I shook my head
as soberly as I could, and pointed to her chair. She looked back
at me with a bright smile and a charming color in her face.
"You would have done it," she whispered, "in my place! "
## p. 3894 (#260) ###########################################
3894
WILLIAM WILKIE COLLINS
It is just eight o'clock. He is beginning to move for the first
time.
Miss Verinder is kneeling by the side of the sofa. She has
so placed herself that when his eyes first open they must open
upon her face.
Shall I leave them together?
Yes!
COUNT FOSCO
From The Woman in White'
If he mar-
ried a tigress instead of a woman, he would have tamed
the tigress. If he had married me, I should have made
his cigarettes as his wife does; I should have held my tongue.
when he looked at me as she holds hers.
E LOOKS like a man who could tame anything.
HⓇ
I am almost afraid to confess it even to these secret pages.
The man has interested me, has attracted me, has forced me
to like him. In two short days he has made his way straight
into my favorable estimation; and how he has worked the
miracle is more than I can tell.
It absolutely startles me, now he is in my mind, to find
how plainly I see him! how much more plainly than I see Sir
Percival, or Mr. Fairlie, or Walter Hartright, or any other
absent person of whom I think, with the one exception of
Laura herself. I can hear his voice as if he was speaking at
this moment. I know what his conversation was yesterday,
as well as if I was hearing it now. How am I to describe
him? There are peculiarities in his personal appearance, his
habits, and his amusements, which I should blame in the boldest
terms or ridicule in the most merciless manner, if I had seen
them in another man. What is it that makes me unable to
blame em or to ridicule them in him?
For example, he is immensely fat. Before this time, I have
always especially disliked corpulent humanity. I have always
maintained that the popular notion of connecting excessive gross-
ness of size and excessive good-humor as inseparable allies was
equivalent to declaring either that no people but amiable peo-
ple ever get fat, or that the accidental addition of so many
pounds of flesh has a directly favorable influence over the dis-
## p. 3895 (#261) ###########################################
WILLIAM WILKIE COLLINS
3895
position of the person on whose body they accumulate. I have
invariably combated both these absurd assertions by quoting
examples of fat people who were as mean, vicious, and cruel
as the leanest and worst of their neighbors. I have asked
whether Henry the Eighth was an amiable character? whether
Pope Alexander the Sixth was a good man? whether Mr.
Murderer and Mrs. Murderess Manning were not both unusually
stout people? whether hired nurses, proverbially as cruel a set
of women
to be found in all England, were not, for
the most part, also as fat a set of women as are to be found
in all England? -and so on through dozens of other examples,
modern and ancient, native and foreign, high and low. Hold-
ing these strong opinions on the subject with might and main,
as I do at this moment, here nevertheless is Count Fosco, as
fat as Henry the Eighth himself, established in my favor at
one day's notice, without let or hindrance from his own odious
corpulence. Marvelous indeed!
Is it his face that has recommended him?
It may be his face. He is a most remarkable likeness, on a
large scale, of the great Napoleon. His features have Napo-
leon's magnificent regularity; his expression recalls the grandly
calm immovable power of the Great Soldier's face. This strik-
ing resemblance certainly impressed me, to begin with; but
there is something in him besides the resemblance, which has
impressed me more. I think the influence I am now trying to
find is in hi eyes. They are the most unfathomable gray eyes
I ever saw; and they have at times a cold, clear, beautiful, irre-
sistible glitter in them, which forces me to look at him, and yet
causes me sensations, when I do look, which I would rather not
feel. Other parts of his face and head have their strange pecul-
iarities. His complexion, for instance, has a singular sallow-
fairness, so much at variance with the dark-brown color of his
hair that I suspect the hair of being a wig; and his face, closely
shaven all over, smoother and freer from all marks and
wrinkles than mine, though (according to Sir Percival's account
of him) he is close on sixty years of age.
But these are not the
prominent personal characteristics which distinguish him, to my
mind, from all the other men I have ever seen. The marked
peculiarity which singles him out from the rank and file of
humanity lies entirely, so far as I can tell at present, in the
extraordinary expression and extraordinary power of his eyes.
## p. 3896 (#262) ###########################################
3896
WILLIAM WILKIE COLLINS
His manner, and his command of our language, may also
have assisted him in some degree to establish himself in my
good opinion. He has that quiet deference, that look of pleased
attentive interest, in listening to a woman, and that secret gen-
tleness in his voice in speaking to a woman, which say what
we may, we can none of us resist. Here too his unusual com-
mand of the English language necessarily helps him. I had
often heard of the extraordinary aptitude which many Italians
show in mastering our strong hard Northern speech, but until I
saw Count Fosco I had never supposed it possible that any
foreigner could have spoken English as he speaks it. There are
times when it is almost impossible to detect by his accent that
he is not a countryman of our own; and as for fluency, there
are very few born Englishmen who can talk with as few stop-
pages and repetitions as the Count. He may construct his sen-
tences more or less in the foreign way; but I have never yet
heard him use a wrong expression, or hesitate for a moment in
his choice of words.
All the smallest characteristics of this strange man have
something strikingly original and perplexingly contradictory in
them. Fat as he is, and old as he is, his movements are aston-
ishingly light and easy. He is as noiseless in a room as any of
us women; and more than that, with all his look of unmistak-
able mental firmness and power, he is as nervously sensitive as
the weakest of us. He starts at chance noises as inveterately
as Laura herself. He winced and shuddered yesterday when Sir
Percival beat one of the spaniels, so that I felt ashamed of my
own want of tenderness and sensibility by comparison with
the Count.
The relation of this last incident reminds me of one of his
most curious peculiarities, which I have not yet mentioned - his
extraordinary fondness for pet animals.
Some of these he has left on the Continent; but he has
brought with him to this house a cockatoo, two canary-birds,
and a whole family of white mice. He attends to all the neces-
sities of these strange favorites himself, and he has taught the
creatures to be surprisingly fond of him and familiar with him.
The cockatoo, a most vicious and treacherous bird toward every
one else, absolutely seems to love him. When he lets it out of
its cage it hops on to his knee, and claws its way up his great
big body, and rubs its topknot against his sallow double chin in
## p. 3897 (#263) ###########################################
WILLIAM WILKIE COLLINS
3897
the most caressing manner imaginable. He has only to set the
doors of the canaries' cage open, and to call them; and the
pretty little cleverly trained creatures perch fearlessly on his
hand, mount his fat outstretched fingers one by one when he
tells them to "go up-stairs," and sing together as if they would
burst their throats with delight when they get to the top finger.
His white mice live in a little pagoda of gayly painted wire-
work, designed and made by himself. They are almost as tame
as the canaries, and they are perpetually let out, like the cana-
ries. They crawl all over him, popping in and out of his waist-
coat, and sitting in couples, white as snow, on his capacious
shoulders. He seems to be even fonder of his mice than of his
other pets; smiles at them, and kisses them, and calls them all
sorts of endearing names. If it be possible to suppose an
Englishman with any taste for such childish interests and amuse-
ments as these, that Englishman would certainly feel rather
ashamed of them, and would be anxious to apologize for them.
in the company of grown-up people. But the Count apparently
sees nothing ridiculous in the amazing contrast between his
colossal self and his frail little pets. He would blandly kiss his
white mice and twitter to his canary-birds amidst an assembly
of English fox-hunters, and would only pity them as barbarians
when they were all laughing their loudest at him.
It seems hardly credible while I am writing it down, but it
is certainly true that this same man, who has all the fondness
of an old maid for his cockatoo, and all the small dexterities
of an organ-boy in managing his white mice, can talk, when
anything happens to rouse him, with a daring independence of
thought, a knowledge of books in every language, and an
experience of society in half the capitals of Europe, which
would make him the prominent personage of any assembly
in the civilized world. This trainer of canary-birds, this archi-
tect of a pagoda for white mice, is (as Sir Percival himself has
told me) one of the first experimental chemists living, and has
discovered among other wonderful inventions a means of petri-
fying the body after death, so as to preserve it, as hard as
marble, to the end of time. This fat, indolent, elderly man,
whose nerves are so finely strung that he starts at chance
noises, and winces when he sees a house spaniel get a whipping,
went into the stable-yard the morning after his arrival, and put
his hand
on the head of a chained bloodhound -
beast so
―――――
a
## p. 3898 (#264) ###########################################
3898
WILLIAM WILKIE COLLINS
savage that the very groom who feeds him keeps out of his
reach. His wife and I were present, and I shall not forget the
scene that followed, short as it was.
"Mind that dog, sir," said the groom; "he flies at every-
body! " "He does that, my friend," replied the Count quietly,
"because everybody is afraid of him. Let us see if he flies at
me. " And he laid his plump yellow-white fingers, on which the
canary-birds had been perching ten minutes before, upon the
formidable brute's head, and looked him straight in the eyes.
"You big dogs are all cowards," he said, addressing the animal
contemptuously, with his face and the dog's within an inch of
each other. "You would kill a poor cat, you infernal coward.
You would fly at a starving beggar, you infernal coward. Any-
thing that you can surprise unawares-anything that is afraid
of your big body, and your wicked white teeth, and your slob-
bering, bloodthirsty mouth, is the thing. you like to fly at. You
could throttle me at this moment, you mean miserable bully;
and you daren't so much as look me in the face, because I'm
not afraid of you. Will you think better of it, and try your
teeth in my fat neck? Bah! not you! " He turned away, laugh-
ing at the astonishment of the men in the yard; and the dog
crept back meekly to his kennel. "Ah! my nice waistcoat! " he
said pathetically. "I am
sorry I came here. Some of that
brute's slobber has got on my pretty clean waistcoat. " Those
words express another of his incomprehensible oddities. He is
as fond of fine clothes as the veriest fool in existence, and has
appeared in four magnificent waistcoats already - all of light
garish colors and all immensely large, even for him- in the
two days of his residence at Blackwater Park.
His tact and cleverness in small things are quite as noticeable
as the singular inconsistencies in his character, and the childish
triviality of his ordinary tastes and pursuits.
I can see already that he means to live on excellent terms
with all of us during the period of his sojourn in this place.
He has evidently discovered that Laura secretly dislikes him (she
confessed as much to me when I pressed her on the subject),
but he has also found out that she is extravagantly fond of
flowers. Whenever she wants a nosegay he has got one to give
her, gathered and arranged by himself; and greatly to my amuse-
ment, he is always cunningly provided with a duplicate, com-
posed of exactly the same flowers, grouped in exactly the same
## p. 3899 (#265) ###########################################
WILLIAM WILKIE COLLINS
3899
way, to appease his icily jealous wife, before she can so much as
think herself aggrieved. His management of the Countess (in
public) is a sight to see. He bows to her; he habitually ad-
dresses her as "my angel"; he carries his canaries to pay her
little visits on his fingers, and to sing to her; he kisses her
hand when she gives him his cigarettes; he presents her with
sugar-plums in return, which he puts into her mouth playfully,
from a box in his pocket. The rod of iron with which he rules
her never appears in company-it is a private rod and is always
kept up-stairs.
His method of recommending himself to me is entirely differ-
ent. He flatters my vanity by talking to me as seriously and
sensibly as if I was a man. Yes! I can find him out when I
am away from him; I know he flatters my vanity, when I think
of him up
here in my own room-and yet when I go down-
stairs and get into his company again he will blind me again,
shall be flattered again, just as if I had never found him
and I
out at all! He can manage me as he manages his wife and
Laura, as he manages the bloodhound in the stable yard, as he
manages Sir Percival himself every hour in the day. "My good
Percival! how I like your rough English humor! "—"My good
Percival! how I enjoy your solid English sense! " He puts the
rudest
remarks Sir Percival can make on his effeminate tastes
and amusements quietly away from him in that manner—always
calling the baronet by his Christian name; smiling at him with
the calmest superiority; patting him on the shoulder; and bear-
ing with him benignantly, as a good-humored father bears with
a wayward son.
The interest which I really cannot help feeling in this
strangely original man has led me to question Sir Percival about
his past life.
Sir Percival either knows little, or will tell me little about it.
He and the Count first met many years ago, at Rome, under
the dangerous circumstances to which I have alluded elsewhere.
Since that time they have been perpetually together, in London,
in Paris, and in Vienna-but never in Italy again; the Count
having, oddly enough, not crossed the frontiers of his native
country for years past. Perhaps he has been made the victim
of some political persecution? At all events, he seems to be
patriotically anxious not to lose sight of any of his own country-
who may happen to be in England. On the evening of
men
## p. 3900 (#266) ###########################################
3900
WILLIAM WILKIE COLLINS
his arrival, he asked how far we were from the nearest town,
and whether we knew of any Italian gentlemen who might hap-
pen to be settled there. He is certainly in correspondence with
people on the Continent, for his letters have all sorts of odd
stamps on them; and I saw one for him this morning, waiting
in his place at the breakfast-table, with a huge official-looking
seal on it. Perhaps he is in correspondence with his govern-
ment? And yet that is hardly to be reconciled, either, with my
other idea that he may be a political exile.
How much I seem to have written about Count Fosco! And
what does it all amount to? -as poor dear Mr. Gilmore would
ask in his impenetrable business-like way. I can only repeat
that I do assuredly feel, even on this short acquaintance, a
strange, half-willing, half-unwilling liking for the Count. He
seems to have established over me the same sort of ascendency
which he has evidently gained over Sir Percival. Free and even
rude as he may occasionally be in his manner toward his fat
friend, Sir Percival is nevertheless afraid, as I can plainly see,
of giving any serious offense to the Count. I wonder whether
I am afraid too? I certainly never saw a man, in all my experi-
ence, whom I should be so sorry to have for an enemy. Is
this because I like him, or because I am afraid of him? Chi
sa? - as Count Fosco might say in his own language. Who
knows?
## p. 3901 (#267) ###########################################
3901
GEORGE COLMAN THE ELDER
(1733-1794)
F THE two George Colmans, father and son, familiar to the
student of English drama and humor, the son was for two
or three generations much the better known to the pub-
lic, through the inclusion of some humorous poems- of the coarse
practical-joking sort dear to the British public, and not unaptly char-
acterized by Macaulay as "blackguard doggerel "-in popular anthol-
ogies. But the improvement in taste has
retired these, and the father's work as a
dramatist has solider merits.
George Colman was the son of an Eng-
lish diplomatist, and born at Florence,
but educated in England; entering Christ
Church College, Oxford, in 1751, and be-
coming M. A. in 1758. He studied law in
London; but his tastes and an intimacy
with Garrick soon led him to abandon this
for poetry and play-writing. His first piece,
'Polly Honeycomb,' was acted at Drury
Lane with great success in 1760; and the
following year The Jealous Wife' -"rich
in borrowed excellences"-had an equal
welcome. Neither of them has much originality, but they show an
excellent sense of stage effect and humorous situation, and are well
put together and harmonized. Later it occurred to Garrick and Col-
man that an entertaining play might be made on the lines of
Hogarth's Marriage à la Mode,' and the result of their joint labors
was The Clandestine Marriage' (1766). Garrick made a great hit in
this as Lord Ogleby, a faded but witty old man.
Colman also wrote some excellent detached pieces for the Con-
noisseur, and about 1761 became owner of the St. James's Chronicle
and contributed humorous matter to it. In 1764 he published a
translation of the comedies of Terence into English blank verse,
which was much praised. In 1768 he became an owner of Covent
Garden Theatre, and later managed the Haymarket. For many years
he wrote and translated pieces for the stage, and was much respected
as a manager and liked as a man. In 1783 he published a translation
of Horace's 'Art of Poetry. ' He died in 1794, after five years of
insanity.
GEORGE COLMAN
## p. 3902 (#268) ###########################################
GEORGE COLMAN THE ELDER
3902
THE EAVESDROPPING
From The Jealous Wife'
Scene, Mr. Oakly's House: Enter Harriot following a Servanı
ARRIOT
Not at home! are you sure that Mrs. Oakly is not
at home, sir?
H
―
Servant-She is just gone out, madam.
Harriot-I have something of consequence: if you will give
me leave, sir, I will wait till she returns.
Servant You would not see her if you did, madam. She
has given positive orders not to be interrupted with any com-
pany to-day.
Harriot Sure, sir, if you were to let her know that I had
particular business-
-
-
Servant-I should not dare to trouble her, indeed, madam.
Harriot-How unfortunate this is! What can I do? Pray,
sir, can I see Mr. Oakly then?
Servant-Yes, madam: I'll acquaint my master, if you please.
Harriot - Pray do, sir.
――
Servant - Will you favor me with your name, madam ?
Harriot-Be pleased, sir, to let him know that a lady desires
to speak with him.
Servant I shall, madam.
[Exit Servant.
Harriot [alone]-I wish I could have seen Mrs. Oakly! What
an unhappy situation am I reduced to! What will the world say
of me? And yet what could I do? To remain at Lady Free-
love's was impossible. Charles, I must own, has this very day
revived much of my tenderness for him; and yet I dread the
wildness of his disposition. I must now however solicit Mr.
Oakly's protection; a circumstance (all things considered) rather
disagreeable to a delicate mind, and which nothing but the abso-
lute necessity of it could excuse. Good Heavens, what a multi-
tude of difficulties and distresses am I thrown into, by my
father's obstinate perseverance to force me into a marriage which
my soul abhors!
Enter Oakly
Oakly Where is this lady? [Seeing her. ] Bless me, Miss
Russet, is it you? [Aside]-Was ever anything so unlucky? —Is
it possible, madam, that I see you here?
1
## p. 3903 (#269) ###########################################
GEORGE COLMAN THE ELDER
3903
Harriot-It is true, sir! and the occasion on which I am
now to trouble you is so much in need of an apology, but
the favor, sir, which I would now request of you is that you will
suffer me to remain for a few days in your house.
-
Oakly [aside] — If my wife should return before I get her out
of the house again! -I know of your leaving your father, by a
letter we had from him. Upon my soul, madam, I would do.
anything to serve you; but your being in my house creates a
difficulty that-
―――――――――
Harriot-I hope, sir, you do not doubt the truth of what I
have told you?
Oakly — I religiously believe every tittle of it, madam; but I
have particular family considerations that—
Harriot-Sure, sir, you cannot suspect me to be base enough
to form any connections in your family contrary to your inclina-
tions, while I am living in your house.
Oakly - Such connections, madam, would do me and all my
family great honor. I never dreamed of any scruples on that
What can I do? Let me see-let me see- - suppose·
account.
[Pausing.
Enter Mrs. Oakly behind, in a capuchin, tippet, etc.
Mrs. Oakly-I am sure I heard the voice of a woman con-
versing with my husband. Ha! [Seeing Harriot. ] It is so,
indeed! Let me contain myself! I'll listen.
Harriot-I see, sir, you are not inclined to serve me. Good
Heaven, what am I reserved to? Why, why did I leave my
father's house, to expose myself to greater distresses?
-
[Ready to weep.
Oakly I would do anything for your sake, indeed I would.
So pray be comforted; and I'll think of some proper place to
bestow you in.
Mrs. Oakly-So, so!
Harriot- - What place can be so proper as your own house?
Oakly-My dear madam, I-I-
Mrs. Oakly-My dear madam! mighty well!
Oakly-Hush! hark! what noise? No, nothing. But I'll be
plain with you, madam; we may be interrupted. The family con-
sideration I hinted at is nothing else than my wife. She is a little
unhappy in her temper, madam; and if you were to be admit
ted into the house, I don't know what might be the consequence.
## p. 3904 (#270) ###########################################
GEORGE COLMAN THE ELDER
3904
Mrs. Oakly- Very fine!
Harriot - My behavior, sir-
Oakly - My dear life, it would be impossible for you to be-
have in such a manner as not to give her suspicion.
Harriot-But if your nephew, sir, took everything upon
himself -
Oakly Still that would not do, madam. Why, this very
morning, when the letter came from your father, though I
positively denied any knowledge of it, and Charles owned it, yet
it was almost impossible to pacify her.
Mrs. Oakly-The letter! How have I been bubbled!
- What shall I do? what will become of me?
Harriot
-
Oakly-Why, look ye, my dear madam, since my wife is so
strong an objection, it is absolutely impossible for me to take
you into the house. Nay, if I had not known she was gone out
just before you came, I should be uneasy at your being here
even now. So we must manage as well as we can: I'll
take a private lodging for you a little way off, unknown to
Charles or my wife or anybody; and if Mrs. Oakly should dis-
cover it at last, why the whole matter will light upon Charles,
you know.
Mrs. Oakly - Upon Charles!
Harriot How unhappy is my situation! [Weeping. ] I am
ruined forever.
Oakly Ruined! not at all. Such a thing as this has hap
pened to many a young lady before you, and all has been well
again. Keep up your spirits! I'll contrive, if I possibly can, to
visit you every day.
And you,
Mrs. Oakly [advancing]- Will you so? O Mr. Oakly! I
have discovered you at last? I'll visit you, indeed.
my dear madam, I'll-
Harriot
Madam, I don't understand-
Mrs. Oakly-I understand the whole affair, and have under-
stood it for some time past. You shall have a private lodging,
miss! It is the fittest place for you, I believe.
How dare you
look me in the face?
――――
―
Oakly For Heaven's sake, my love, don't be so violent!
You are quite wrong in this affair; you don't know who you are
talking to. That lady is a person of fashion.
Mrs. Oakly-Fine fashion, indeed! to beguile other women's
husbands!
## p. 3905 (#271) ###########################################
GEORGE COLMAN THE ELDER
3905
Harriot-Dear madam, how can you imagine-
Oakly-I tell you, my dear, this is the young lady that
Charles
Mrs. Oakly-Mighty well! But that won't do, sir! Did not
I hear you lay the whole intrigue together? did not I hear
your fine plot of throwing all the blame upon Charles?
Oakly-Nay, be cool a moment! You must know, my dear,
that the letter which came this morning related to this lady.
Mrs. Oakly-I know it.
Oakly - And since that, it seems, Charles has been so fortu-
nate as to-
-
Mrs. Oakly-O, you deceitful man! that trick is too stale
to pass again with me. It is plain now what you meant by
your proposing to take her into the house this morning. But
the gentlewoman could introduce herself, I see.
Oakly Fie, fie, my dear! she came on purpose to inquire
for you.
Mrs. Oakly- For me! Better and better! Did not she watch
her opportunity, and come to you just as I went out? But I am
obliged to you for your visit, madam. It is sufficiently paid.
Pray don't let me detain you.
to death.
Oakly - For shame, for shame, Mrs. Oakly! How can you
be so absurd? Is this proper behavior to a lady of her char-
―
acter ?
Mrs. Oakly-I have heard her character. Go, my fine run-
away madam!
Now you've eloped from your father, and run
away from your aunt, go! You shan't stay here, I promise you.
Oakly-Prithee, be quiet. You don't know what you are
She shall stay.
doing.
Mrs. Oakly-She shan't stay a minute.
Oakly She shall stay a minute, an hour, a day, a week, a
month, a year! 'Sdeath, madam, she shall stay forever, if I
choose it.
Mrs. Oakly- How!
Harriot-For Heaven's sake, sir, let me go. I am frighted
Oakly-Don't be afraid, madam! She shall stay, I insist
upon it.
Russet [within]-I tell you, sir, I will go up.
that the lady is here, and nothing shall hinder me.
Harriot -Oh, my father, my father!
VII-245
I am
sure
[Faints away.
## p. 3906 (#272) ###########################################
3906
GEORGE COLMAN THE ELDER
Oakly-See! she faints. [Catching her. ] Ring the bell!
who's there?
Mrs. Oakly-What, take her in your arms too! I have no
patience.
Russet-Where is this-Ha! fainting! [Running to her. ] Oh,
my dear Harriot! my child! my child!
Oakly-Your coming so abruptly shocked her spirits. But
she revives. How do you, madam?
Harriot [to Russet]-Oh, sir!
Russet -Oh, my dear girl! how could you run away from
your father, that loves you with such fondness! But I was sure
I should find you here.
Mrs. Oakly-There, there! Sure he should find her here!
Did not I tell you so? Are not you a wicked man, to carry on
such base underhand doings with a gentleman's daughter?
Russet- Let me tell you, sir, whatever you may think of the
matter, I shall not easily put up with this behavior. How durst
you encourage my daughter to an elopement, and receive her in
your house?
Mrs. Oakly-There, mind that! the thing is as plain as the
light.
Oakly I tell you, you misunderstand
Russet-Look you, Mr. Oakly, I shall expect satisfaction from
your family for so gross an affront. Zounds, sir, I am not to be
used ill by any man in England!
My dear sir, I can assure you
Harriot
Russet - Hold your tongue, girl! you'll put me in a passion.
Oakly Sir, this is all a mistake.
£ Russet -A mistake! Did not I find her in your house?
since I had laid him down and made his bed, he lay locked in
a deep and quiet sleep.
While I was still looking at him I heard the bedroom door
softly opened. Once more Miss Verinder appeared on the thresh-
old in her pretty summer dress.
"Do me a last favor," she whispered. "Let me watch him
with you. "
I hesitated-not in the interest of propriety; only in the
interest of her night's rest. She came close to me and took my
hand.
-
"I can't sleep; I can't even sit still in my own room," she
said. "Oh, Mr. Jennings, if you were me, only think how you
would long to sit and look at him! Say yes!
Do! "
Is it necessary to mention that I gave way? Surely not!
She drew a chair to the foot of the sofa. She looked at him
in a silent ecstasy of happiness till the tears rose in her eyes.
She dried her eyes and said she would fetch her work. She
fetched her work, and never did a single stitch of it. It lay in
her lap-she was not even able to look away from him long
enough to thread her needle. I thought of my own youth; I
thought of the gentle eyes which had once looked love at me.
In the heaviness of my heart I turned to my Journal for relief,
and wrote in it what is written here.
So we kept our watch together in silence,—one of us absorbed
in his writing; the other absorbed in her love.
Hour after hour he lay in deep sleep. The light of the new
day grew and grew in the room, and still he never moved.
Toward six o'clock I felt the warning which told me that my
pains were coming back. I was obliged to leave her alone with
him for a little while. I said I would go up-stairs and fetch
another pillow for him out of his room. It was not a long attack
this time. In a little while I was able to venture back and let
her see me again.
I found her at the head of the sofa when I returned. She
was just touching his forehead with her lips. I shook my head
as soberly as I could, and pointed to her chair. She looked back
at me with a bright smile and a charming color in her face.
"You would have done it," she whispered, "in my place! "
## p. 3894 (#260) ###########################################
3894
WILLIAM WILKIE COLLINS
It is just eight o'clock. He is beginning to move for the first
time.
Miss Verinder is kneeling by the side of the sofa. She has
so placed herself that when his eyes first open they must open
upon her face.
Shall I leave them together?
Yes!
COUNT FOSCO
From The Woman in White'
If he mar-
ried a tigress instead of a woman, he would have tamed
the tigress. If he had married me, I should have made
his cigarettes as his wife does; I should have held my tongue.
when he looked at me as she holds hers.
E LOOKS like a man who could tame anything.
HⓇ
I am almost afraid to confess it even to these secret pages.
The man has interested me, has attracted me, has forced me
to like him. In two short days he has made his way straight
into my favorable estimation; and how he has worked the
miracle is more than I can tell.
It absolutely startles me, now he is in my mind, to find
how plainly I see him! how much more plainly than I see Sir
Percival, or Mr. Fairlie, or Walter Hartright, or any other
absent person of whom I think, with the one exception of
Laura herself. I can hear his voice as if he was speaking at
this moment. I know what his conversation was yesterday,
as well as if I was hearing it now. How am I to describe
him? There are peculiarities in his personal appearance, his
habits, and his amusements, which I should blame in the boldest
terms or ridicule in the most merciless manner, if I had seen
them in another man. What is it that makes me unable to
blame em or to ridicule them in him?
For example, he is immensely fat. Before this time, I have
always especially disliked corpulent humanity. I have always
maintained that the popular notion of connecting excessive gross-
ness of size and excessive good-humor as inseparable allies was
equivalent to declaring either that no people but amiable peo-
ple ever get fat, or that the accidental addition of so many
pounds of flesh has a directly favorable influence over the dis-
## p. 3895 (#261) ###########################################
WILLIAM WILKIE COLLINS
3895
position of the person on whose body they accumulate. I have
invariably combated both these absurd assertions by quoting
examples of fat people who were as mean, vicious, and cruel
as the leanest and worst of their neighbors. I have asked
whether Henry the Eighth was an amiable character? whether
Pope Alexander the Sixth was a good man? whether Mr.
Murderer and Mrs. Murderess Manning were not both unusually
stout people? whether hired nurses, proverbially as cruel a set
of women
to be found in all England, were not, for
the most part, also as fat a set of women as are to be found
in all England? -and so on through dozens of other examples,
modern and ancient, native and foreign, high and low. Hold-
ing these strong opinions on the subject with might and main,
as I do at this moment, here nevertheless is Count Fosco, as
fat as Henry the Eighth himself, established in my favor at
one day's notice, without let or hindrance from his own odious
corpulence. Marvelous indeed!
Is it his face that has recommended him?
It may be his face. He is a most remarkable likeness, on a
large scale, of the great Napoleon. His features have Napo-
leon's magnificent regularity; his expression recalls the grandly
calm immovable power of the Great Soldier's face. This strik-
ing resemblance certainly impressed me, to begin with; but
there is something in him besides the resemblance, which has
impressed me more. I think the influence I am now trying to
find is in hi eyes. They are the most unfathomable gray eyes
I ever saw; and they have at times a cold, clear, beautiful, irre-
sistible glitter in them, which forces me to look at him, and yet
causes me sensations, when I do look, which I would rather not
feel. Other parts of his face and head have their strange pecul-
iarities. His complexion, for instance, has a singular sallow-
fairness, so much at variance with the dark-brown color of his
hair that I suspect the hair of being a wig; and his face, closely
shaven all over, smoother and freer from all marks and
wrinkles than mine, though (according to Sir Percival's account
of him) he is close on sixty years of age.
But these are not the
prominent personal characteristics which distinguish him, to my
mind, from all the other men I have ever seen. The marked
peculiarity which singles him out from the rank and file of
humanity lies entirely, so far as I can tell at present, in the
extraordinary expression and extraordinary power of his eyes.
## p. 3896 (#262) ###########################################
3896
WILLIAM WILKIE COLLINS
His manner, and his command of our language, may also
have assisted him in some degree to establish himself in my
good opinion. He has that quiet deference, that look of pleased
attentive interest, in listening to a woman, and that secret gen-
tleness in his voice in speaking to a woman, which say what
we may, we can none of us resist. Here too his unusual com-
mand of the English language necessarily helps him. I had
often heard of the extraordinary aptitude which many Italians
show in mastering our strong hard Northern speech, but until I
saw Count Fosco I had never supposed it possible that any
foreigner could have spoken English as he speaks it. There are
times when it is almost impossible to detect by his accent that
he is not a countryman of our own; and as for fluency, there
are very few born Englishmen who can talk with as few stop-
pages and repetitions as the Count. He may construct his sen-
tences more or less in the foreign way; but I have never yet
heard him use a wrong expression, or hesitate for a moment in
his choice of words.
All the smallest characteristics of this strange man have
something strikingly original and perplexingly contradictory in
them. Fat as he is, and old as he is, his movements are aston-
ishingly light and easy. He is as noiseless in a room as any of
us women; and more than that, with all his look of unmistak-
able mental firmness and power, he is as nervously sensitive as
the weakest of us. He starts at chance noises as inveterately
as Laura herself. He winced and shuddered yesterday when Sir
Percival beat one of the spaniels, so that I felt ashamed of my
own want of tenderness and sensibility by comparison with
the Count.
The relation of this last incident reminds me of one of his
most curious peculiarities, which I have not yet mentioned - his
extraordinary fondness for pet animals.
Some of these he has left on the Continent; but he has
brought with him to this house a cockatoo, two canary-birds,
and a whole family of white mice. He attends to all the neces-
sities of these strange favorites himself, and he has taught the
creatures to be surprisingly fond of him and familiar with him.
The cockatoo, a most vicious and treacherous bird toward every
one else, absolutely seems to love him. When he lets it out of
its cage it hops on to his knee, and claws its way up his great
big body, and rubs its topknot against his sallow double chin in
## p. 3897 (#263) ###########################################
WILLIAM WILKIE COLLINS
3897
the most caressing manner imaginable. He has only to set the
doors of the canaries' cage open, and to call them; and the
pretty little cleverly trained creatures perch fearlessly on his
hand, mount his fat outstretched fingers one by one when he
tells them to "go up-stairs," and sing together as if they would
burst their throats with delight when they get to the top finger.
His white mice live in a little pagoda of gayly painted wire-
work, designed and made by himself. They are almost as tame
as the canaries, and they are perpetually let out, like the cana-
ries. They crawl all over him, popping in and out of his waist-
coat, and sitting in couples, white as snow, on his capacious
shoulders. He seems to be even fonder of his mice than of his
other pets; smiles at them, and kisses them, and calls them all
sorts of endearing names. If it be possible to suppose an
Englishman with any taste for such childish interests and amuse-
ments as these, that Englishman would certainly feel rather
ashamed of them, and would be anxious to apologize for them.
in the company of grown-up people. But the Count apparently
sees nothing ridiculous in the amazing contrast between his
colossal self and his frail little pets. He would blandly kiss his
white mice and twitter to his canary-birds amidst an assembly
of English fox-hunters, and would only pity them as barbarians
when they were all laughing their loudest at him.
It seems hardly credible while I am writing it down, but it
is certainly true that this same man, who has all the fondness
of an old maid for his cockatoo, and all the small dexterities
of an organ-boy in managing his white mice, can talk, when
anything happens to rouse him, with a daring independence of
thought, a knowledge of books in every language, and an
experience of society in half the capitals of Europe, which
would make him the prominent personage of any assembly
in the civilized world. This trainer of canary-birds, this archi-
tect of a pagoda for white mice, is (as Sir Percival himself has
told me) one of the first experimental chemists living, and has
discovered among other wonderful inventions a means of petri-
fying the body after death, so as to preserve it, as hard as
marble, to the end of time. This fat, indolent, elderly man,
whose nerves are so finely strung that he starts at chance
noises, and winces when he sees a house spaniel get a whipping,
went into the stable-yard the morning after his arrival, and put
his hand
on the head of a chained bloodhound -
beast so
―――――
a
## p. 3898 (#264) ###########################################
3898
WILLIAM WILKIE COLLINS
savage that the very groom who feeds him keeps out of his
reach. His wife and I were present, and I shall not forget the
scene that followed, short as it was.
"Mind that dog, sir," said the groom; "he flies at every-
body! " "He does that, my friend," replied the Count quietly,
"because everybody is afraid of him. Let us see if he flies at
me. " And he laid his plump yellow-white fingers, on which the
canary-birds had been perching ten minutes before, upon the
formidable brute's head, and looked him straight in the eyes.
"You big dogs are all cowards," he said, addressing the animal
contemptuously, with his face and the dog's within an inch of
each other. "You would kill a poor cat, you infernal coward.
You would fly at a starving beggar, you infernal coward. Any-
thing that you can surprise unawares-anything that is afraid
of your big body, and your wicked white teeth, and your slob-
bering, bloodthirsty mouth, is the thing. you like to fly at. You
could throttle me at this moment, you mean miserable bully;
and you daren't so much as look me in the face, because I'm
not afraid of you. Will you think better of it, and try your
teeth in my fat neck? Bah! not you! " He turned away, laugh-
ing at the astonishment of the men in the yard; and the dog
crept back meekly to his kennel. "Ah! my nice waistcoat! " he
said pathetically. "I am
sorry I came here. Some of that
brute's slobber has got on my pretty clean waistcoat. " Those
words express another of his incomprehensible oddities. He is
as fond of fine clothes as the veriest fool in existence, and has
appeared in four magnificent waistcoats already - all of light
garish colors and all immensely large, even for him- in the
two days of his residence at Blackwater Park.
His tact and cleverness in small things are quite as noticeable
as the singular inconsistencies in his character, and the childish
triviality of his ordinary tastes and pursuits.
I can see already that he means to live on excellent terms
with all of us during the period of his sojourn in this place.
He has evidently discovered that Laura secretly dislikes him (she
confessed as much to me when I pressed her on the subject),
but he has also found out that she is extravagantly fond of
flowers. Whenever she wants a nosegay he has got one to give
her, gathered and arranged by himself; and greatly to my amuse-
ment, he is always cunningly provided with a duplicate, com-
posed of exactly the same flowers, grouped in exactly the same
## p. 3899 (#265) ###########################################
WILLIAM WILKIE COLLINS
3899
way, to appease his icily jealous wife, before she can so much as
think herself aggrieved. His management of the Countess (in
public) is a sight to see. He bows to her; he habitually ad-
dresses her as "my angel"; he carries his canaries to pay her
little visits on his fingers, and to sing to her; he kisses her
hand when she gives him his cigarettes; he presents her with
sugar-plums in return, which he puts into her mouth playfully,
from a box in his pocket. The rod of iron with which he rules
her never appears in company-it is a private rod and is always
kept up-stairs.
His method of recommending himself to me is entirely differ-
ent. He flatters my vanity by talking to me as seriously and
sensibly as if I was a man. Yes! I can find him out when I
am away from him; I know he flatters my vanity, when I think
of him up
here in my own room-and yet when I go down-
stairs and get into his company again he will blind me again,
shall be flattered again, just as if I had never found him
and I
out at all! He can manage me as he manages his wife and
Laura, as he manages the bloodhound in the stable yard, as he
manages Sir Percival himself every hour in the day. "My good
Percival! how I like your rough English humor! "—"My good
Percival! how I enjoy your solid English sense! " He puts the
rudest
remarks Sir Percival can make on his effeminate tastes
and amusements quietly away from him in that manner—always
calling the baronet by his Christian name; smiling at him with
the calmest superiority; patting him on the shoulder; and bear-
ing with him benignantly, as a good-humored father bears with
a wayward son.
The interest which I really cannot help feeling in this
strangely original man has led me to question Sir Percival about
his past life.
Sir Percival either knows little, or will tell me little about it.
He and the Count first met many years ago, at Rome, under
the dangerous circumstances to which I have alluded elsewhere.
Since that time they have been perpetually together, in London,
in Paris, and in Vienna-but never in Italy again; the Count
having, oddly enough, not crossed the frontiers of his native
country for years past. Perhaps he has been made the victim
of some political persecution? At all events, he seems to be
patriotically anxious not to lose sight of any of his own country-
who may happen to be in England. On the evening of
men
## p. 3900 (#266) ###########################################
3900
WILLIAM WILKIE COLLINS
his arrival, he asked how far we were from the nearest town,
and whether we knew of any Italian gentlemen who might hap-
pen to be settled there. He is certainly in correspondence with
people on the Continent, for his letters have all sorts of odd
stamps on them; and I saw one for him this morning, waiting
in his place at the breakfast-table, with a huge official-looking
seal on it. Perhaps he is in correspondence with his govern-
ment? And yet that is hardly to be reconciled, either, with my
other idea that he may be a political exile.
How much I seem to have written about Count Fosco! And
what does it all amount to? -as poor dear Mr. Gilmore would
ask in his impenetrable business-like way. I can only repeat
that I do assuredly feel, even on this short acquaintance, a
strange, half-willing, half-unwilling liking for the Count. He
seems to have established over me the same sort of ascendency
which he has evidently gained over Sir Percival. Free and even
rude as he may occasionally be in his manner toward his fat
friend, Sir Percival is nevertheless afraid, as I can plainly see,
of giving any serious offense to the Count. I wonder whether
I am afraid too? I certainly never saw a man, in all my experi-
ence, whom I should be so sorry to have for an enemy. Is
this because I like him, or because I am afraid of him? Chi
sa? - as Count Fosco might say in his own language. Who
knows?
## p. 3901 (#267) ###########################################
3901
GEORGE COLMAN THE ELDER
(1733-1794)
F THE two George Colmans, father and son, familiar to the
student of English drama and humor, the son was for two
or three generations much the better known to the pub-
lic, through the inclusion of some humorous poems- of the coarse
practical-joking sort dear to the British public, and not unaptly char-
acterized by Macaulay as "blackguard doggerel "-in popular anthol-
ogies. But the improvement in taste has
retired these, and the father's work as a
dramatist has solider merits.
George Colman was the son of an Eng-
lish diplomatist, and born at Florence,
but educated in England; entering Christ
Church College, Oxford, in 1751, and be-
coming M. A. in 1758. He studied law in
London; but his tastes and an intimacy
with Garrick soon led him to abandon this
for poetry and play-writing. His first piece,
'Polly Honeycomb,' was acted at Drury
Lane with great success in 1760; and the
following year The Jealous Wife' -"rich
in borrowed excellences"-had an equal
welcome. Neither of them has much originality, but they show an
excellent sense of stage effect and humorous situation, and are well
put together and harmonized. Later it occurred to Garrick and Col-
man that an entertaining play might be made on the lines of
Hogarth's Marriage à la Mode,' and the result of their joint labors
was The Clandestine Marriage' (1766). Garrick made a great hit in
this as Lord Ogleby, a faded but witty old man.
Colman also wrote some excellent detached pieces for the Con-
noisseur, and about 1761 became owner of the St. James's Chronicle
and contributed humorous matter to it. In 1764 he published a
translation of the comedies of Terence into English blank verse,
which was much praised. In 1768 he became an owner of Covent
Garden Theatre, and later managed the Haymarket. For many years
he wrote and translated pieces for the stage, and was much respected
as a manager and liked as a man. In 1783 he published a translation
of Horace's 'Art of Poetry. ' He died in 1794, after five years of
insanity.
GEORGE COLMAN
## p. 3902 (#268) ###########################################
GEORGE COLMAN THE ELDER
3902
THE EAVESDROPPING
From The Jealous Wife'
Scene, Mr. Oakly's House: Enter Harriot following a Servanı
ARRIOT
Not at home! are you sure that Mrs. Oakly is not
at home, sir?
H
―
Servant-She is just gone out, madam.
Harriot-I have something of consequence: if you will give
me leave, sir, I will wait till she returns.
Servant You would not see her if you did, madam. She
has given positive orders not to be interrupted with any com-
pany to-day.
Harriot Sure, sir, if you were to let her know that I had
particular business-
-
-
Servant-I should not dare to trouble her, indeed, madam.
Harriot-How unfortunate this is! What can I do? Pray,
sir, can I see Mr. Oakly then?
Servant-Yes, madam: I'll acquaint my master, if you please.
Harriot - Pray do, sir.
――
Servant - Will you favor me with your name, madam ?
Harriot-Be pleased, sir, to let him know that a lady desires
to speak with him.
Servant I shall, madam.
[Exit Servant.
Harriot [alone]-I wish I could have seen Mrs. Oakly! What
an unhappy situation am I reduced to! What will the world say
of me? And yet what could I do? To remain at Lady Free-
love's was impossible. Charles, I must own, has this very day
revived much of my tenderness for him; and yet I dread the
wildness of his disposition. I must now however solicit Mr.
Oakly's protection; a circumstance (all things considered) rather
disagreeable to a delicate mind, and which nothing but the abso-
lute necessity of it could excuse. Good Heavens, what a multi-
tude of difficulties and distresses am I thrown into, by my
father's obstinate perseverance to force me into a marriage which
my soul abhors!
Enter Oakly
Oakly Where is this lady? [Seeing her. ] Bless me, Miss
Russet, is it you? [Aside]-Was ever anything so unlucky? —Is
it possible, madam, that I see you here?
1
## p. 3903 (#269) ###########################################
GEORGE COLMAN THE ELDER
3903
Harriot-It is true, sir! and the occasion on which I am
now to trouble you is so much in need of an apology, but
the favor, sir, which I would now request of you is that you will
suffer me to remain for a few days in your house.
-
Oakly [aside] — If my wife should return before I get her out
of the house again! -I know of your leaving your father, by a
letter we had from him. Upon my soul, madam, I would do.
anything to serve you; but your being in my house creates a
difficulty that-
―――――――――
Harriot-I hope, sir, you do not doubt the truth of what I
have told you?
Oakly — I religiously believe every tittle of it, madam; but I
have particular family considerations that—
Harriot-Sure, sir, you cannot suspect me to be base enough
to form any connections in your family contrary to your inclina-
tions, while I am living in your house.
Oakly - Such connections, madam, would do me and all my
family great honor. I never dreamed of any scruples on that
What can I do? Let me see-let me see- - suppose·
account.
[Pausing.
Enter Mrs. Oakly behind, in a capuchin, tippet, etc.
Mrs. Oakly-I am sure I heard the voice of a woman con-
versing with my husband. Ha! [Seeing Harriot. ] It is so,
indeed! Let me contain myself! I'll listen.
Harriot-I see, sir, you are not inclined to serve me. Good
Heaven, what am I reserved to? Why, why did I leave my
father's house, to expose myself to greater distresses?
-
[Ready to weep.
Oakly I would do anything for your sake, indeed I would.
So pray be comforted; and I'll think of some proper place to
bestow you in.
Mrs. Oakly-So, so!
Harriot- - What place can be so proper as your own house?
Oakly-My dear madam, I-I-
Mrs. Oakly-My dear madam! mighty well!
Oakly-Hush! hark! what noise? No, nothing. But I'll be
plain with you, madam; we may be interrupted. The family con-
sideration I hinted at is nothing else than my wife. She is a little
unhappy in her temper, madam; and if you were to be admit
ted into the house, I don't know what might be the consequence.
## p. 3904 (#270) ###########################################
GEORGE COLMAN THE ELDER
3904
Mrs. Oakly- Very fine!
Harriot - My behavior, sir-
Oakly - My dear life, it would be impossible for you to be-
have in such a manner as not to give her suspicion.
Harriot-But if your nephew, sir, took everything upon
himself -
Oakly Still that would not do, madam. Why, this very
morning, when the letter came from your father, though I
positively denied any knowledge of it, and Charles owned it, yet
it was almost impossible to pacify her.
Mrs. Oakly-The letter! How have I been bubbled!
- What shall I do? what will become of me?
Harriot
-
Oakly-Why, look ye, my dear madam, since my wife is so
strong an objection, it is absolutely impossible for me to take
you into the house. Nay, if I had not known she was gone out
just before you came, I should be uneasy at your being here
even now. So we must manage as well as we can: I'll
take a private lodging for you a little way off, unknown to
Charles or my wife or anybody; and if Mrs. Oakly should dis-
cover it at last, why the whole matter will light upon Charles,
you know.
Mrs. Oakly - Upon Charles!
Harriot How unhappy is my situation! [Weeping. ] I am
ruined forever.
Oakly Ruined! not at all. Such a thing as this has hap
pened to many a young lady before you, and all has been well
again. Keep up your spirits! I'll contrive, if I possibly can, to
visit you every day.
And you,
Mrs. Oakly [advancing]- Will you so? O Mr. Oakly! I
have discovered you at last? I'll visit you, indeed.
my dear madam, I'll-
Harriot
Madam, I don't understand-
Mrs. Oakly-I understand the whole affair, and have under-
stood it for some time past. You shall have a private lodging,
miss! It is the fittest place for you, I believe.
How dare you
look me in the face?
――――
―
Oakly For Heaven's sake, my love, don't be so violent!
You are quite wrong in this affair; you don't know who you are
talking to. That lady is a person of fashion.
Mrs. Oakly-Fine fashion, indeed! to beguile other women's
husbands!
## p. 3905 (#271) ###########################################
GEORGE COLMAN THE ELDER
3905
Harriot-Dear madam, how can you imagine-
Oakly-I tell you, my dear, this is the young lady that
Charles
Mrs. Oakly-Mighty well! But that won't do, sir! Did not
I hear you lay the whole intrigue together? did not I hear
your fine plot of throwing all the blame upon Charles?
Oakly-Nay, be cool a moment! You must know, my dear,
that the letter which came this morning related to this lady.
Mrs. Oakly-I know it.
Oakly - And since that, it seems, Charles has been so fortu-
nate as to-
-
Mrs. Oakly-O, you deceitful man! that trick is too stale
to pass again with me. It is plain now what you meant by
your proposing to take her into the house this morning. But
the gentlewoman could introduce herself, I see.
Oakly Fie, fie, my dear! she came on purpose to inquire
for you.
Mrs. Oakly- For me! Better and better! Did not she watch
her opportunity, and come to you just as I went out? But I am
obliged to you for your visit, madam. It is sufficiently paid.
Pray don't let me detain you.
to death.
Oakly - For shame, for shame, Mrs. Oakly! How can you
be so absurd? Is this proper behavior to a lady of her char-
―
acter ?
Mrs. Oakly-I have heard her character. Go, my fine run-
away madam!
Now you've eloped from your father, and run
away from your aunt, go! You shan't stay here, I promise you.
Oakly-Prithee, be quiet. You don't know what you are
She shall stay.
doing.
Mrs. Oakly-She shan't stay a minute.
Oakly She shall stay a minute, an hour, a day, a week, a
month, a year! 'Sdeath, madam, she shall stay forever, if I
choose it.
Mrs. Oakly- How!
Harriot-For Heaven's sake, sir, let me go. I am frighted
Oakly-Don't be afraid, madam! She shall stay, I insist
upon it.
Russet [within]-I tell you, sir, I will go up.
that the lady is here, and nothing shall hinder me.
Harriot -Oh, my father, my father!
VII-245
I am
sure
[Faints away.
## p. 3906 (#272) ###########################################
3906
GEORGE COLMAN THE ELDER
Oakly-See! she faints. [Catching her. ] Ring the bell!
who's there?
Mrs. Oakly-What, take her in your arms too! I have no
patience.
Russet-Where is this-Ha! fainting! [Running to her. ] Oh,
my dear Harriot! my child! my child!
Oakly-Your coming so abruptly shocked her spirits. But
she revives. How do you, madam?
Harriot [to Russet]-Oh, sir!
Russet -Oh, my dear girl! how could you run away from
your father, that loves you with such fondness! But I was sure
I should find you here.
Mrs. Oakly-There, there! Sure he should find her here!
Did not I tell you so? Are not you a wicked man, to carry on
such base underhand doings with a gentleman's daughter?
Russet- Let me tell you, sir, whatever you may think of the
matter, I shall not easily put up with this behavior. How durst
you encourage my daughter to an elopement, and receive her in
your house?
Mrs. Oakly-There, mind that! the thing is as plain as the
light.
Oakly I tell you, you misunderstand
Russet-Look you, Mr. Oakly, I shall expect satisfaction from
your family for so gross an affront. Zounds, sir, I am not to be
used ill by any man in England!
My dear sir, I can assure you
Harriot
Russet - Hold your tongue, girl! you'll put me in a passion.
Oakly Sir, this is all a mistake.
£ Russet -A mistake! Did not I find her in your house?
