Quality Street Part 20

VALENTINE. I also must work. I will become a physician again, with some drab old housekeeper to neglect me and the house. Do you foresee the cobwebs gathering and gathering, Miss Phoebe?

PHOEBE. Oh, sir!

VALENTINE. You shall yet see me in Quality Street, wearing my stock all awry.

PHOEBE. Oh, oh!

VALENTINE. And with snuff upon my sleeve.

PHOEBE. Sir, sir!

VALENTINE. No skulker, ma'am, I hope, but gradually turning into a grumpy, crusty, bottle-nosed old bachelor.

PHOEBE. Oh, Mr. Brown!

VALENTINE. And all because you will not walk across the street with me.

PHOEBE. Indeed, sir, you must marry--and I hope it may be some one who is really like a garden.

VALENTINE. I know but one. That reminds me, Miss Phoebe, of something I had forgot. (_He produces a paper from his pocket._) 'Tis a trifle I have wrote about you. But I fear to trouble you.

(PHOEBE'S _hands go out longingly for it._)

PHOEBE (_reading_). 'Lines to a Certain Lady, who is Modestly unaware of her Resemblance to a Garden. Wrote by her servant, V. B.'

(_The beauty of this makes her falter. She looks up._)

VALENTINE (_with a poet's pride_). There is more of it, ma'am.

PHOEBE (_reading_)

The lilies are her pretty thoughts, Her shoulders are the may, Her smiles are all forget-me-nots, The path 's her gracious way,

The roses that do line it are Her fancies walking round, 'Tis sweetly smelling lavender In which my lady's gowned.

(MISS PHOEBE _has thought herself strong, but she is not able to read such exquisite lines without betraying herself to a lover's gaze._)

VALENTINE (_excitedly_). Miss Phoebe, when did you cease to care for me?

PHOEBE (_retreating from him but clinging to her poem_). You promised not to ask.

VALENTINE. I know not why you should, Miss Phoebe, but I believe you love me still!

(MISS PHOEBE _has the terrified appearance of a detected felon._)

(_MISS SUSAN returns._)

MISS SUSAN. You are talking so loudly.

VALENTINE. Miss Susan, does she care for me still?

MISS SUSAN (_forgetting her pride of s.e.x_). Oh, sir, how could she help it.

VALENTINE. Then by Gad, Miss Phoebe, you shall marry me though I have to carry you in my arms to the church.

PHOEBE. Sir, how can you!

(_But_ MISS SUSAN _gives her a look which means that it must be done if only to avoid such a scandal. It is at this inopportune moment that_ MISS HENRIETTA _and_ MISS f.a.n.n.y _are announced._)

MISS HENRIETTA. I think Miss Willoughby has already popped in.

PHOEBE (_with a little spirit_). Yes, indeed.

MISS SUSAN (_a mistress of sarcasm_). How is Mary, f.a.n.n.y? She has not been to see us for several minutes.

MISS f.a.n.n.y (_somewhat daunted_). Mary is so partial to you, Susan.

VALENTINE. Your servant, Miss Henrietta, Miss f.a.n.n.y.

MISS f.a.n.n.y. How do you do, sir?

MISS HENRIETTA (_wistfully_). And how do you find Miss Livvy, sir?

VALENTINE. I have not seen her, Miss Henrietta.

MISS HENRIETTA. Indeed!

MISS f.a.n.n.y. Not even you?

VALENTINE. You seem surprised?

MISS f.a.n.n.y. Nay, sir, you must not say so; but really, Phoebe!

PHOEBE. f.a.n.n.y, you presume!

VALENTINE (_puzzled_). If one of you ladies would deign to enlighten me. To begin with, what is Miss Livvy's malady?

MISS HENRIETTA. He does not know? Oh, Phoebe.

VALENTINE. Ladies, have pity on a dull man, and explain.

MISS f.a.n.n.y (_timidly_). Please not to ask us to explain. I fear we have already said more than was proper. Phoebe, forgive.

(_To_ CAPTAIN BROWN _this but adds to the mystery, and he looks to_ PHOEBE _for enlightenment._)

PHOEBE (_desperate_). I understand, sir, there is a belief that I keep Livvy in confinement because of your pa.s.sion for her.

VALENTINE. My pa.s.sion for Miss Livvy? Why, Miss f.a.n.n.y, I cannot abide her--nor she me. (_Looking manfully at_ MISS PHOEBE.) Furthermore, I am proud to tell you that this is the lady whom I adore.