FENWICK. Dorothy, who is the man?
DOROTHY. O poor Dorothy! O poor dead Dorothy! John, you found me breaking this: me, your Diana of the Fells, the Diana of your old romance by Edenside. Diana-O what a name for me! Do you see this trinket? It is a chapter in my life. A chapter, do I say? my whole life, for there is none to follow. John, you must bear with me, you must help me. I have that to tell-there is a secret-I have a secret, John-O, for God's sake, understand. That Diana you revered-O John, John, you must never speak of love to me again.
FENWICK. What do you say? How dare you?
DOROTHY. John, it is the truth. Your Diana, even she, she whom you so believed in, she who so believed in herself, came out into the world only to be broken. I met, here at the Wells, a man-why should I tell you his name? I met him, and I loved him. My heart was all his own; yet he was not content with that: he must intrigue to catch me, he must bribe my maid with this. (_Throws the necklace on the table_.) Did he love me?
Well, John, he said he did; and be it so! He loved, he betrayed, and he has left me.
FENWICK. Betrayed?
DOROTHY. Ay, even so; I was betrayed. The fault was mine that I forgot our innocent youth, and your honest love.
FENWICK. Dorothy, O Dorothy!
DOROTHY. Yours is the pain; but, O John, think it is for your good.
Think in England how many true maids may be waiting for your love, haw many that can bring you a whole heart, and be a noble mother to your children, while your poor Diana, at the first touch, has proved all frailty. Go, go and be happy, and let me be patient. I have sinned.
FENWICK. By God, I'll have his blood.
DOROTHY. Stop! I love him. (_Between_ FENWICK _and door_, _C._)
FENWICK. What do I care? I loved you too. Little he thought of that, little either of you thought of that. His blood-I'll have his blood!
DOROTHY. You shall never know his name.
FENWICK. Know it? Do you think I cannot guess? Do you think I had not heard he followed you. Do you think I had not suffered-O suffered!
George Austin is the man. Dear shall he pay it!
DOROTHY (_at his feet_). Pity me; spare me, spare your Dorothy! I love him-love him-love him!
FENWICK. Dorothy, you have robbed me of my happiness, and now you would rob me of my revenge.
DOROTHY. I know it; and shall I ask, and you not grant?
FENWICK (_raising her_). No, Dorothy, you shall ask nothing, nothing in vain from me. You ask his life; I give it you, as I would give you my soul; as I would give you my life, if I had any left. My life is done; you have taken it. Not a hope, not an end; not even revenge. (_He sits_.) Dorothy, you see your work.
DOROTHY. O God, forgive me.
FENWICK. Ay, Dorothy, He will, as I do.
DOROTHY. As you do? Do you forgive me, John?
FENWICK. Ay, more than that, poor soul. I said my life was done, I was wrong; I have still a duty. It is not in vain you taught me; I shall still prove to you that it was not in vain. You shall soon find that I am no backward friend. Farewell.
ACT II.
MUSICAL INDUCTION: '_The Lass of Richmond Hill_.'
_The Stage represents George Austin's dressing-room_. _Elaborate toilet-table_, _R._, _with chair_; _a cheval glass so arranged as to correspond with glass on table_. _Breakfast-table_, _L._, _front_.
_Door_, _L._ _The Beau is discovered at table_, _in dressing-grown_, _trifling with correspondence_. MENTEITH _is frothing chocolate_.
SCENE I
AUSTIN, MENTEITH
MENTEITH. At the barber's, Mr. George, I had the pleasure of meeting two of the Dook's gentlemen.
AUSTIN. Well, and was his Royal Highness satisfied with his quarters?
MENTEITH. Quite so, Mr. George. Delighted, I believe.
AUSTIN. I am rejoiced to hear it. I wish I could say I was as pleased with my journey, Menteith. This is the first time I ever came to the Wells in another person's carriage; Duke or not, it shall be the last, Menteith.
MENTEITH. Ah, Mr. George, no wonder. And how many times have we made that journey back and forth?
AUSTIN. Enough to make us older than we look.
MENTEITH. To be sure, Mr. George, you do wear well.
AUSTIN. _We_ wear well, Menteith.
MENTEITH. I hear, Mr. George, that Miss Musgrave is of the company.
AUSTIN. Is she so? Well, well! well, well!
MENTEITH. I've not seen the young lady myself, Mr. George; but the barber tells me she's looking poorly.
AUSTIN. Poorly?
MENTEITH. Yes, Mr. George, poorly was his word.
AUSTIN. Well, Menteith, I am truly sorry. She is not the first.
MENTEITH. Yes, Mr. George. (_A bell_. MENTEITH _goes out_, _and re-enters with card_.)
AUSTIN (_with card_). Whom have we here? Anthony Musgrave?
MENTEITH. A fine young man, Mr. George; and with a look of the young lady, but not so gentlemanly.
AUSTIN. You have an eye, you have an eye. Let him in.
SCENE II