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.
MISS SUSAN. Please not to do that.
CHARLOTTE (implying that MISS SUSAN will be responsible for her early death). My chest is weak. I shall sit among the dew.
MISS SUSAN. Charlotte, you terrify me. At least, please to put this cloak about your shoulders. Nay, my dear, allow me.
(She puts a cloak around CHARLOTTE, who departs vindictively for the shrubbery. She will not find LIVVY there, however, for next moment MISS PHOEBE darts in from the back.)
PHOEBE (in a gay whisper). Susan, another offer [Transcriber's note: officer?] – Major Linkwater – rotund man, black whiskers, fierce expression; he has rushed away to destroy himself.
(We have been unable to find any record of the Major's tragic end.)
AN OLD SOLDIER (looking up from a card table, whence he has heard the raging of BLADES). Miss Livvy, ma'am, what is this about the moon?
(PHOEBE smiles roguishly.)
PHOEBE (looking about her). I want my cloak, Aunt Susan.
MISS SUSAN. I have just lent it to poor Charlotte Parratt.
PHOEBE. Oh, auntie!
OLD SOLDIER. And now Miss Livvy cannot go into the shrubbery to see the moon; and she is so fond of the moon!
(MISS PHOEBE screws her nose at him merrily, and darts back to the dance, but she has left a defender behind her.)
A GALLANT (whose name we have not succeeded in discovering). Am I to understand, sir, that you are intimating disparagement of the moon? If a certain female has been graciously pleased to signify approval of that orb, any slight cast upon the moon, sir, I shall regard as a personal affront.
OLD SOLDIER. Hoity-toity.
(But he rises, and they face each other, as MISS SUSAN feels, for battle. She is about to rush between their undrawn swords when there is a commotion outside; a crowd gathers and opens to allow some officers to assist a fainting woman into the tent. It is MISS PHOEBE, and MISS SUSAN with a cry goes on her knees beside her. The tent has filled with the sympathetic and inquisitive, but CAPTAIN BROWN, as a physician, takes command, and by his order they retire. He finds difficulty in bringing the sufferer to, and gets little help from MISS SUSAN, who can only call upon MISS PHOEBE by name.)
VALENTINE. Nay, Miss Susan, 'tis useless calling for Miss Phoebe. 'Tis my fault; I should not have permitted Miss Livvy to dance so immoderately. Why do they delay with the cordial?
(He goes to the back to close the opening, and while he is doing so the incomprehensible MISS PHOEBE seizes the opportunity to sit up on her couch of chairs, waggle her finger at MISS SUSAN, and sign darkly that she is about to make a genteel recovery.)
PHOEBE. Where am I? Is that you, Aunt Susan? What has happened?
VALENTINE (returning). Nay, you must recline, Miss Livvy. You fainted. You have over-fatigued yourself.
PHOEBE. I remember.
(BLADES enters with the cordial.)
VALENTINE. You will sip this cordial.
BLADES. By your leave, sir.
(He hands it to PHOEBE himself.)
VALENTINE. She is in restored looks already, Miss Susan.
PHOEBE. I am quite recovered. Perhaps if you were to leave me now with my excellent aunt —
VALENTINE. Be off with you, apple cheeks.
BLADES. Sir, I will suffer no reference to my complexion; and, if I mistake not, this charming lady was addressing you.
PHOEBE. If you please, both of you. (They retire together, and no sooner have they gone than MISS PHOEBE leaps from the couch, her eyes sparkling. She presses the cordial on MISS SUSAN.) Nay, drink it, Susan. I left it for you on purpose. I have such awful information to impart. Drink. (MISS SUSAN drinks tremblingly and then the bolt is fired.) Susan, Miss Henrietta and Miss Fanny are here!
MISS SUSAN. Phoebe!
PHOEBE. Suddenly my eyes lighted on them. At once I slipped to the ground.
MISS SUSAN. You think they did not see you?
PHOEBE. I am sure of it. They talked for a moment to Ensign Blades, and then turned and seemed to be going towards the shrubbery.
MISS SUSAN. He had heard that you were there with Captain Brown. He must have told them.
PHOEBE. I was not. But oh, sister, I am sure they suspect, else why should they be here? They never frequent balls.
MISS SUSAN. They have suspected for a week, ever since they saw you in your veil, Phoebe, on the night of the first dance. How could they but suspect, when they have visited us every day since then and we have always pretended that Livvy was gone out.
PHOEBE. Should they see my face it will be idle to attempt to deceive them.
MISS SUSAN. Idle indeed; Phoebe, the scandal! You – a schoolmistress!
PHOEBE. That is it, sister. A little happiness has gone to my head like strong waters.
(She is very restless and troubled.)
MISS SUSAN. My dear, stand still, and think.
PHOEBE. I dare not, I cannot. Oh, Susan, if they see me we need not open school again.
MISS SUSAN. We shall starve.
PHOEBE (passionately). This horrid, forward, flirting, heartless, hateful little toad of a Livvy.
MISS SUSAN. Brother James's daughter, as we call her!
PHOEBE. 'Tis all James's fault.
MISS SUSAN. Sister, when you know that James has no daughter!
PHOEBE. If he had really had one, think you I could have been so wicked as to personate her? Susan, I know not what I am saying, but you know who it is that has turned me into this wild creature.
MISS SUSAN. Oh, Valentine Brown, how could you?
PHOEBE. To weary of Phoebe – patient, lady-like Phoebe – the Phoebe whom I have lost – to turn from her with a 'Bah, you make me old,' and become enamoured in a night of a thing like this!
MISS SUSAN. Yes, yes, indeed; yet he has been kind to us also. He has been to visit us several times.
PHOEBE. In the hope to see her. Was he not most silent and gloomy when we said she was gone out?
MISS SUSAN. He is infatuate – (She hesitates.) Sister, you are not partial to him still?
PHOEBE. No, Susan, no. I did love him all those years, though I never spoke of it to you. I put hope aside at once, I folded it up and kissed it and put it away like a pretty garment I could never wear again, I but loved to think of him as a noble man. But he is not a noble man, and Livvy found it out in an hour. The gallant! I flirted that I might enjoy his fury. Susan, there has been a declaration in his eyes all to-night, and when he cries 'Adorable Miss Livvy, be mine,' I mean to answer with an 'Oh, la, how ridiculous you are. You are much too old – I have been but quizzing you, sir.'