Quality Street Part 12

Surely you remember little Livvy, Mary?

MISS WILLOUGHBY (_bluntly_). No, Susan, I do not.

MISS SUSAN. I--I must go. I hear Livvy calling.

MISS f.a.n.n.y (_tartly_). I hear nothing but the band. We are not to see your niece?

MISS SUSAN. Another time--to-morrow. Pray rest a little before you depart, Mary. I--I--Phoebe Livvy--the headache----

(_But before she can go another lady enters gaily._)

VALENTINE. Ah, here is Miss Livvy.

(_The true culprit is more cunning than_ MISS SUSAN, _and before they can see her she quickly pulls the strings of her bonnet, which is like_ MISS HENRIETTA'S, _and it obscures her face._)

MISS SUSAN. This--this is my niece, Livvy--Miss Willoughby, Miss Henrietta, Miss f.a.n.n.y Willoughby.

VALENTINE. Ladies, excuse my impatience, but--

MISS WILLOUGHBY. One moment, sir. May I ask, Miss Livvy, how many brothers you have.

PHOEBE. Two.

MISS WILLOUGHBY. I thank you.

(_She looks strangely at_ MISS SUSAN, _and_ MISS PHOEBE _knows that she has blundered._)

PHOEBE (_at a venture_). Excluding the unhappy Thomas.

MISS SUSAN (_clever for the only moment in her life_). We never mention him.

(_They are swept away on the arms of the impatient_ CAPTAIN.)

MISS WILLOUGHBY, MISS HENRIETTA, AND MISS f.a.n.n.y. What has Thomas done?

(_They have no suspicion as yet of what_ MISS PHOEBE _has done; but they believe there is a scandal in the Throssel family, and they will not sleep happily until they know what it is._)

_End of Act II._

ACT III

THE BALL

_A ball, but not the one to which we have seen Miss Susan and Miss Phoebe rush forth upon their career of crime. This is the third of the series, the one of which Patty has foretold with horrid relish that it promises to be specially given over to devilries. The scene is a canvas pavilion, used as a retiring room and for card play, and through an opening in the back we have glimpses of gay uniforms and fair ladies intermingled in the bravery of the dance. There is coming and going through this opening, and also through slits in the canvas. The pavilion is fantastically decorated in various tastes, and is lit with lanterns. A good-natured moon, nevertheless, shines into it benignly.

Some of the card tables are neglected, but at one a game of quadrille is in progress. There is much movement and hilarity, but none from one side of the tent, where sit several young ladies, all pretty, all appealing and all woeful, for no gallant comes to ask them if he may have the felicity. The nervous woman chaperoning them, and afraid to meet their gaze lest they scowl or weep in reply, is no other than Miss Susan, the most unhappy Miss Susan we have yet seen; she sits there gripping her composure in both hands. Far less susceptible to shame is the brazen Phoebe, who may be seen pa.s.sing the opening on the arm of a cavalier, and flinging her trembling sister a mischievous kiss. The younger ladies note the incident; alas, they are probably meant to notice it, and they cower, as under a blow._

HARRIET (_a sad-eyed, large girl, who we hope found a romance at her next ball_). Are we so disagreeable that no one will dance with us?

Miss Susan, 'tis infamous; they have eyes for no one but your niece.

CHARLOTTE. Miss Livvy has taken Ensign Blades from me.

HARRIET. If Miss Phoebe were here, I am sure she would not allow her old pupils to be so neglected.

(_The only possible reply for_ MISS SUSAN _is to make herself look as small as possible. A lieutenant comes to them, once a scorner of woman, but now_ SPICER _the bewitched_. HARRIET _has a moment's hope._)

How do you do, sir?

SPICER (_with dreadful indifference, though she is his dear cousin_).

Nay, ma'am, how do you do? (_Wistfully._) May I stand beside you, Miss Susan?

(_He is a most melancholic young man, and he fidgets her._)

MISS SUSAN (_with spirit_). You have been standing beside me, sir, nearly all the evening. SPICER (_humbly. It is strange to think that he had been favourably mentioned in despatches_). Indeed, I cannot but be cognisant of the sufferings I cause by attaching myself to you in this unseemly manner. Accept my a.s.surances, ma'am, that you have my deepest sympathy.

MISS SUSAN. Then why do you do it?

SPICER. Because you are her aunt, ma'am. It is a scheme of mine by which I am in hopes to soften her heart. Her affection for you, ma'am, is beautiful to observe, and if she could be persuaded that I seek her hand from a pa.s.sionate desire to have you for my Aunt Susan--do you perceive anything hopeful in my scheme, ma'am?

MISS SUSAN. No, sir, I do not.

(SPICER _wanders away gloomily, takes too much to drink, and ultimately becomes a general_. ENSIGN BLADES _appears, frowning, and_ CHARLOTTE _ventures to touch his sleeve._)

CHARLOTTE. Ensign Blades, I have not danced with you once this evening.

BLADES (_with the cold brutality of a lover to another she_). Nor I with you, Charlotte. (_To_ SUSAN.) May I solicit of you, Miss Susan, is Captain Brown Miss Livvy's guardian; is he affianced to her?

MISS SUSAN. No, sir.

BLADES. Then by what right, ma'am, does he interfere? Your elegant niece had consented to accompany me to the shrubbery--to look at the moon. And now Captain Brown forbids it. 'Tis unendurable.

CHARLOTTE. But you may see the moon from here, sir.

BLADES (_glancing at it contemptuously_). I believe not, ma'am. (_The moon still shines on._)

MISS SUSAN (_primly_). I am happy Captain Brown forbade her.

BLADES. Miss Susan, 'twas but because he is to conduct her to the shrubbery himself.

(_He flings out pettishly, and_ MISS SUSAN _looks pityingly at the wall-flowers._)

MISS SUSAN. My poor Charlotte! May I take you to some very agreeable ladies?

CHARLOTTE (_tartly_). No, you may not. I am going to the shrubbery to watch Miss Livvy.