Under a Veil

[Exit. Lucy opens door.

Eliz. (entering 2 E. L.). Why, the key’s fallen out. (Aside.) She’s been up to something, I know.

[Replaces it.

Luc. (still upset). You must be tired, Elizabeth. Go to bed, my good girl, go.

[Reseats herself, and takes up book.

Eliz. (takes off tea things). I tired! Oh, no, mum! (Returns.) Surely thirty waltzes or quadrilles wouldn’t tire me much; and there’s only two hours to sleep. It’s not worth while going to bed: so, if you please, mum, I’ll sit up with you.

[Sits on sofa.

Luc. It must, then, be that nephew, the son of his sister, of whom Mr. Mortimer always avoided speaking to me.

Cha. (in next room, uneasy). What on earth made her so anxious to know my name?

Luc. At any rate, I have his promise: that’s some consolation. By the way, Elizabeth, did you know Mr. Mortimer’s nephew?

Eliz. Well, yes, – little Charley Devereux. Oh, yes! I recollect; and I – I – (falling asleep and dreaming) thank you, sir: I don’t dance any more.

Cha. And to think she’ll leave without my seeing her face! It’s abominable!

[Rises.

Luc. (Looking at Elizabeth). She’s asleep, poor thing! She’ll catch cold.

[Covers her with her cloak.

Cha. Ah, this window! Perhaps there’s a veranda.

[Goes to window.

Luc. How can I ascertain for certain that he is Mr. Mortimer’s nephew? I must know it somehow.

Cha. No road here; perhaps by the other staircase. I shall just go in without knocking, as if I had forgotten; that’s it: here goes.

[Exit, slamming door.

Luc. That noise was in his room. I think he’s gone out. If I was certain that dressing-case he spoke of would tell me! (At door.) Sir, Mr. King! No answer. What have I to fear?

[Enters room, closing door.

Cha. (gently opening 2 E. L. door). Yes, this is the room. (Looking round.) She sleeps; my handkerchief too. Now, my charming girl, let me see your face. (Takes candle, starts back.) Confound it! Well, there’s the end of my dream.

[Heaves a sigh, and goes out.

Eliz. (starting up). There’s somebody in the room. (Goes to door at back, and looks in.) I knew she was up to something: I’ll find it out, see if I don’t.

[Exit 1 L. E.

Luc. (searching). Ah, here it is at last, – Charles Devereux. It’s he, it’s he! (She returns hastily, and bolts door.) Ah, how my heart beats! what shall I do now? (Thinking.) The fact is, he’s very nice, notwithstanding his nickname.

Cha. (entering, and falling into arm-chair). Another dream, that takes itself off to the land of dreams. (Striking table.) No, it’s always the same. If you were to go to a masked ball where there was only one woman – oh, love! oh, frenzy! the mask falls, ugh! no more love, no more frenzy. The woman’s ninety, and ugly as – heaven knows what.

Luc. He’s come in. (Calling at door.) Mr. King!

Cha. And such a voice!

Luc. Sir.

Cha. Woke her up, I suppose. Madam —

Luc. Sir, I should like to have a few words of explanation with you.

Cha. (running to fasten door). Oh, by jingo!

Luc. He’s locked himself in. (Aloud.) Pardon me, sir, for troubling you; but – but – if I mistake not, you are Mr. Charles Devereux, the nephew of Mr. Mortimer.

Cha. I suppose you mean, madam, that that gentleman was my uncle. I don’t dispute the fact. (Aside.) How the mischief did she find that out? Ah! it’s that confounded landlord told her.

Luc. Well, sir, I’ve a most important communication to make to you from his adopted child.

Cha. But I don’t want to hear what she’s got to say, madam. You know her?

Luc. Yes, sir, I know her; and I also know that she has been seeking you for a long time, in order to give you up a fortune which by right belongs to you.

Cha. What you propose, madam, is ridiculous. I could never accept a farthing.

Luc. But suppose in seeing her you happen to like her, and that —

Cha. I shall never like her.

Luc. Perhaps you might. If she were like me, for instance?

Cha. Never, madam. I’m sworn celibacy, – a knight of Malta, in fact.

Luc. (aside). What an extraordinary change! (Aloud.) Mr. King, I’m in the greatest danger, and you alone can save me.

Cha. Madam, I’ve saved you twice to-night, and I distinctly refuse to do it any more.

Luc. (aside). He’s absolutely getting impertinent. Sir, I have something to return to you that belongs to you, – a pocket-handkerchief.

Cha. Thanks: I’ve got it, – one with a monogram. I really believe I must barricade my door.

[Puts furniture against door.

Luc. He’s got it! Why, he must have come in here, then; and – and – of course he saw Elizabeth with my cloak round her. I see. Ha, ha, ha!

Cha. Confound her, she’s laughing! She laughs too as if she was only twenty.

Luc. So, sir, you refuse to open the door?

Cha. Quite impossible, madam. I’m gone, I’m a long way off, I’m on my road to Baden.

Luc. Pleasant journey, sir. (Aside.) It can’t be helped, I must have recourse to more violent means.

[Exit L. D.

Cha. I verily believe she’s going to burst the door in: I’d better bolt. The devil! this is becoming serious. It almost reminds me of my adventure amongst the savages in Africa, where the daughter of a king, with rings in her nose, took a violent fancy to me. The king favored the marriage, and told me quietly that I had the choice, if I didn’t marry his daughter he’d eat me. I at once answered, “Your Majesty, I prefer to enter your family to your mouth; I’ll marry your daughter to-morrow.” And during the night I escaped to the coast. Let us do the same, and escape to the coast.

[Makes for door.

Pri. (appearing at door drunk). Miss Lucy Mortimer wishes to have the honor of seeing you, sir.

Cha. Miss who, did you say?

Pri. Well, sir, beg pardon, it’s your cousin’s uncle or your uncle’s cousin.

Cha. Ask the lady to walk in, wretched man.

Pri. (announcing Lucy, who is in Elizabeth’s cloak with a thick veil on). Miss Lucy Mortimer.

Cha. (advancing, confused). Madam, I thought I —

Luc. (speaking to him in a disguised voice, and throwing back veil). Well, sir, what do you think of me?

Cha. Ah, madam! Even the most confused man in the world could but confess that you are charming. (Aside.) If my neighbor were only half as pretty! Charming is not the word; but, excuse me, you come here at five in the morning, and ask me what I think of you. Well, that’s all right, I suppose; but pardon me if I go further, and venture to ask in the most humble manner in the world a little question.