(Curtain rises on Richmond fair scene, set as before. The courtiers, all dressed as farmers and maid servants, are standing about.)
No. 18a.
Cho.I can sew, sir, I can scrub, sir,
I'm a good one at a tub, sir,
Yes, to every sort of work
My hand I turn and never shirk, etc. (as before).
(Lady Harriet, Nancy and Plunket enter and come down front while chorus sings. Lionel enters from the other side and wanders about among the booths, not looking at anything or anyone, wrapped in a deep reverie. He is plainly distraught, utterly unbalanced by the sad experience he has had. Lady H. and Nan. are in their hunting costumes.)
Plun. Poor Lionel! He seems quite lost to me! He avoids me, seeks solitude, or if he does approach his fellow men he utterly ignores their presence, as now.
Nancy. Does he seem to have no moments when he knows you?
Plun. Not so far. Ever since the Queen recognized the ring I gave her and restored him to his rightful place and name as Earl of Derby he seems to think he is no more himself. All the past is wiped away from his thought and he wanders about in a daze or dream.
Lady H. And I am the one who is to blame!
Plun. Yes—and no. Nancy here did by me much what you did by Lionel, but it did not drive me crazy. So after all it is partly Lionel's strange nature that is to blame. He was always a queer lad, sensitive to a fault.
Nan. Did you really think I meant the girls to stick their spears into you? I was furious with them!
Lady H. It was my hope that if Lionel found himself again in the midst of this familiar scene where first we met he might recognize me and come to himself again.
Nancy. But not when you are in those clothes. This is the costume you wore when you were so cruel to him.
Lady H. That is true. I had forgotten, in my zeal to get all the rest of them ready. But here he comes. O, Lionel, don't you know me? (He repulses her.)
No. 19.
Lio. When I first that hand did claim,
Was I not repulsed with laughter?
Did that hand not heavy chains
Heap upon me, heedless after?
No, this hand which yesterday,
But yesterday did drive me forth,
Though today 'tis kind again
Ah, to me 'tis nothing worth!
Lady H. O, he is cruel!
Lio. Love is turned to hate!
I thought her sent by heav'n to bless,
To shed around her happiness;
What deep and glowing ecstasy
Filled all my heart
When first she smiled on me!
Lady H. Oh, can these eyes, grown dim with grief,
And wan with tears, seek to betray you?
Oh, doubt me not, for I am thine.
Lio. I ne'er again can call thee mine!
Dead for aye my trust in thee
Hateful art thou grown to me!
(Lionel rushes of the stage. Lady H. sinks weeping into the arms of Nancy.)
Plun. Courage, my lady! I see in this very frenzy a hopeful change. His apathy and indifference were far worse. At least you waked him up. Better luck next time.
Nan. Go, my lady, and come back again in the simple little dress of Martha. When he sees you so it will call up the old memories and then—if you sing to him—surely his strange hallucination will not continue. (Lady H. goes off.)
Plun. Poor lass, my heart aches for her—or it would, if it were not so busy aching for itself.
Nan. Yes, it is hardest of all for you—you have loved Lord Lionel so long.
Plun. To tell the truth I was not thinking wholly of Lionel, either!
Nan. (demurely). You have troubles of your own?
Plun. You know very well what I mean!—I shall be so lonely when he leaves me to go and live on his grand estates.—Will you think of me sometimes, Miss Nancy, sitting all alone in my poor farmhouse?
Nan. Ye-es, perhaps—I don't know. I shall think how you sit and si-i-igh—like that. (Sighs in mock-serious fashion.) Ah-h-h!
Plun. You needn't laugh. It is a serious matter. I am very much to be pitied.
Nan. If you could only—(hesitates)
Plun. What is she going to say now, the witch? (Aside.)
Nan. If you could—couldn't you get some one to come and live with you—a friend, perhaps—or even—a wife—now! Just let your imagination work a little.
Plun. That's so, I might get somebody to marry me! That would be a good idea. I have a pretty neighbor—a farmer's daughter—
Nan. O, indeed! A farmer's daughter? A good steady girl, I've no doubt, who would always do exactly what you told her. That's an excellent idea. Marry her by all means!
Plun. Will you dance at the wedding?
Nan. Certainly—and who with a lighter heart? Remember to send me an invitation.
Plun. No, I won't, you little minx!
Nan. Won't invite me?
Plun. Won't marry her.
Nan. Why not?
Plun. I am not in love with her.
Nan. But you will find plenty of other handsome lasses.
Plun. The more I search, the less I find.
Nan. O, indeed. How unfortunate—for the girls!
Plun. None of them suit me. You see, I had a maid once—a little serving maid—the gayest, prettiest creature—but she ran away from me—
Nan. Perhaps you were not kind to her?
Plun. Kind, I? I was kindness itself! I was too kind! I killed her with kindness!
Nan. Well, that's the trouble, then. A girl needs a good firm upstanding sort of a way, to keep her in her place. Don't be too easy,—take my advice. But tell me about your servant.
Plun. O, I don't know as she was so much, after all. But I found her amusing. She was a well-meaning sort of creature, and rather good looking, but she couldn't do a thing! She could not knit or spin, she could only laugh and joke.—But ignorant as she was, she knew one thing.
Nan. What was that?
Plun. How to make me miss her!
Nan. Perhaps she misses you!
Plun. (starts toward her). Nancy—my little Betsy Ann!
Nan. And though she does not know the things you say, though she is a poor silly creature who never did a useful thing in all her life—could she not learn?
Plun. Don't torment me, girl. Do you mean what you say?
Nan. (laughing at him). Certainly I mean it. What clever girl could not learn those things—if she really—
Plun. Really—what?—
Nan. O, if it were worth while!
Plun. O Nancy, is it worth while?—But no, we must not think of ourselves while Lionel is in such a state—my poor Lionel! Until he is right again my home is his.
Nan. (walking off a little stiffly). O, keep your old home! Nobody wants it!
Plun. (goes after her and speaks in her ear). I mean to keep it—and you!
Nan. If you can!
Plun. I can. A voice whispers in my heart!
Nan. What is the voice that whispers in your heart?
Plun. It is the voice of love.
(Lady H. returns in peasant costume. She goes up to the groups of farmers and begins to arrange them in the old order. Speaks.)
Lady H. Arrange everything just as it was before. Bring the big chair for the sheriff. Don't look at Lionel. Pretend to be all occupied with the business of the day.
Nan. (looking off). Here he comes, with his sad and gentle look. Sing to him, my lady.
(Music begins with Nancy's speech. Lady H. sings.)
No. 20.
Lady H. Now the April day returning
Girds the earth with living green;
As the moon shines clearer, fairer,
Spring's new loveliness is seen.
Laughing flowers that gem the meadows,
With the stars in beauty vie,
While the nightingale with singing,
Tells his love to earth and sky.
Lio. Heaven! Martha's singing!
Lady H. (approaches him timidly). See, 'tis Martha.
Cho. See, he knows her! Sadly, but mildly
Meets her glances
And our advances.
(Lionel moves about among the supposed servants in wonderment.)
(Nancy steps from among them.)
Nan. Now hither troop both young and old
The village clock the hour has told!
I can darn, sir, I can sew, sir,
I can milk and I can mow, sir,
I can bake and mend and make,
And garden beds can hoe and rake.
Cho. Yes, I can clean, sir, I can scrub, sir,
I'm a good one at the tub, sir (etc., as before).
Plun. (to Lionel). Come, this way,
We'll choose a servant;
Come with me.
Lio. (passes his hand over his brow in bewilderment).
O, what is it?
Plun. Why, the servants
Who at Richmond market gather.
Come, then, choose which one you'd rather.
(They approach Lady Harriet and Nancy. Lionel stands and gazes at Lady H. He speaks.)
Lio. (perplexed). Martha, Martha! Is it you? Tell me that this is indeed you! Tell me that it is no dream. We are together at last!
Lady H. Lionel, I am Martha, and your humble, loving servant. You know what has come to you, fortune and a splendid name. But before I knew of this, my heart repented. I was ready to go to you in your prison and claim you as my love. Then you were set free without my aid—O wretched, cruel girl that I was! Lionel, I am fairly punished for my worldly pride, my cruel impulse. But life is hard for girls. Think how they might all have scorned me if I confessed to having been a servant! But now I care for nothing—only you.
Lio. Let all the past be forgotten. Joy smiles at last. At last my dreams have all come true.
Plun. (to Nancy). And what can you do, you useless bit of baggage?
Nancy (hums). I can cook, sir, I can bake, sir,—
Plun. (laughing). You are jesting. You are my own little good-for-nothing.
Nan. If my master is obstinate—I can bring him to reason.
Plun. You will suit me, after all. You will make an excellent farmer's wife. Come along.
Nan. There! (She boxes his ear.) Take that as an earnest.
Lady H. sings.
No. 21. Finale.
Lady H. Now the April days returning
Gird the Spring in living green.
Lio. As the moon shines clearer, fairer,
Spring's new loveliness is seen.
Lady H. and Lio. While the nightingale with singing,
Tells his love to earth and sky,
Sounds at last love's hour of promise,
Hour of hope and nuptial joy.
Cho. Sounds at last love's hour of promise,
Hour of hope and nuptial joy.
Curtain.
End.
