RUTH'S ROMANCE; A SUMMER EVENING'S SKETCH, FRED. W. BROUGHTON tflfemfor of the Dramatic Authors' Society). AUTHOR OF " Light and Shade ;" " Years Ago ;" " A Debt of Honour ;" * Withered Leaves ;" "A Labour of Love ;" " Eyei and Hearts ;" " The Finger of Fate," &c. AND Joint Author of "Christine." LONDON- : SAMUEL FRENCH, PDBLISHP;R, 89, STBAND, NEW YORK : SAMUEL FRENCH & PUBLISHERS, 38, EAST HTH First performed at the Theatre Royal, Bath, March 6th, 1876, by the " Broken Hearts " Company, under the management of Messrs. L. J. Sef ton and Frank Emery. CHARACTEES. Strand, 1879. Ruth Carey ... Miss ROSE LECLERCQ Miss DENMAN Jack Dudley ... Mr. F. D. BEVEKIDGE Mr. H. J. CARTER Capt. Wilton ... Mr. F. MARSHALL Mr. H. PARRY TimeTIfE PRESENT. Scem-ROOKWOOD. SUGGESTIONS AS TO DEESS, &o. RUTH CAREY. Her dress may be as picturesque as is con- sistent with the time. On her second entrance, she may, if possible, wear instead of her country attire, a stylish and fashionable one, but this is left wholly to the taste and discretion of the lady concerned. JACK DUDLEY. A rough country walking suit ; a knieker- bocker one would be as well as any. CAPTAIN WILTOIT Being a man supposed to be about six or seven and thirty years of age, should dress with consistent quietness. His face may be " got up " as good tempered and funny, but not broad. 10 H~ S 7.55 RUTH'S ROMANCE. SCENE. A pretty farm garden, separated from a rustic Idne at the back by a low fence or railing, in the centre ofivhichis a little wicket. At the left of the stage is an antique porch, and on the right an out-door table at ivhich CAPTAIN WILTON sits, as if in deep thought. The curtain rises to the refrain of "The Farmer's Boy," and directly afterwards enter RUTH CAREY, in country dress, carrying in one hand a basket, and in the other a milk-can, ivhich she sets down in the porch unobserved by WILTON. RUTH. When, during all day, a girl doesn't see the some- body she wants to see, she's cross, of course and I'm cross, of course. I must either bully someone or cry. (seeing WILTON) There is someone to bully, that dear, genial, imperturbable, impoverished brother-in-law of mine ! (she steps behind him, and places her hands over his eyes) WIL. (sleepily) Hallo, Ruth, is that you? RUTH, (imitating him) Hallo, Captain George Wilton, is that you ? WIL. Well, as you're not a creditor, I'll venture to admit that 1 believe it is. Who did you think it was ? RUTH. Somebody else much nice .-looking. WIL. I expected as much from you, Ruth. Something impudent and illogical. If you thought I was somebody else much nicer-looking, I must have looked, you know, like the nice-looking handsome somebody you thought I was. RUTH. As you're such a provokingly good-tempered man, I won't be too severe, and don't mind confessing that the back view of you is certainly the least objectionable one you can present. Now, what have you to say ? WIL. Only that Blue Beard and Henry the Eighth must have had a rough time of it if you're a fair sample of sisters- in-law. I ought to think myself lucky that you're the only one I've got. RUTH. You ought to think yourself lucky that you've got any at all. I can't imagine whatever possessed a sister of mine to marry you. You've no money but your half-pay ; no ability but your half wit. WIL. And no available cash but half-a-crown. RUTH. I believe you quite. You're very poor in every particular, including looks. 058 WIL. Come. There are uglier aaen in the world than I. RUTH, (meditatively) Are there 1 Perhaps there are perhaps there are. I speak advisedly, after reading a work on the natives of Central Africa. WIL. I don't pretend to be a particularly handsome man, or a particularly brilliant man, and I admit the poverty. But Alice didn't consider me altogether a worthless match. RUTH. No ; she managed to strike you. WIL. And I burst out into a radiant flame of love, like a a fusee. RUTH. No, a lucifer ; a damp lucifer. You did your best to blaze, but you only managed to flicker. WIL. How you do take me down. RUTH. I can't take you down much. There isn't enough of you. WIL. Your sister Alice thinks there is. RUTH. Likely enough. She thinks there's too much of you. WIL. But I've heard you say she might have done worse. RUTH. Of course ; she might have married a missionary fcnd gone to stir up the natives of Central Africa. WIL. And I've heard you say also that I might have done better. RUTH. Of course again you might have married me. WIL. (devoutly) Heaven forbid ! RUTH, (chanting) A-men ! Have you been here long '{ WIL. About ten minutes. RUTH. And what have you come for ? WIL. To see how you are. RUTH. Well, and how am I ? WIL. Impudent as usual. RUIH. Is that all you've come for ? WIL. No, I've brought Alice's lov^. RUTH. Where is it? WIL. (kissing her) Here ! RUTH, (making wry face) Ugh ! It's got horribly damaged in the transit. Anything else besides the depreciated pro- perty you've just delivered ? WIL. Yes ; an invitation to spend the evening with us at the cottage. RUTH. It's a long walk, and I'm very tired ; but I accept the invitation, subject to a rest here first. How is Alice to- day ? WIL. As well as can be expected under the circumstances. RUTH. And is the circumstances pretty well ? WIL. Glorious. His lungs are in lovely condition, and his hair is growing with all the rapidity and luxuriance of mustard and cress. RUTH. I hope it isn't of the same colour. WIL. No, the colour rather inclines to that of a more for- midable and less fragile vegetable. I allude, of course, to the carrot. I am now awaiting anxiously the debut of a tooth. RUTH. Even exceptional babies, like your's, have some hesitation in cutting their teeth at the age of a fortnight. WIL. Jove ! It is an exceptional baby. There never was a baby like it. RUTH. Then there's no likeness between father and son ? WIL. It's premature to say. The features are not yet moulded into anything sufficiently distinctive to be like any- body's; I can only describe them now as being a little miscel- laneous. But what are appearances ? Trust not to them. (Quotation from copy-book.) I look at his accomplishments. His very yell is music, his gentle snore is pathos. Come and hear him at once. RUTH. No, I'm going to have my rest. WIL. What's the reason you're tired ? RUTH. One you won't understand hard work. WIL. What have you done ] RUTM. Heaps of things. Milked the cows, drawn water for the horses, who're dreadfully thirsty animals, and beer for the men, who're thirstier animals still. I've fed the fowls, churned the milk, baked the bread, kissed the retriever, mended my stockings, and made a roley-pole^pudding. I'd like to know how much of this you could have managed, you useless, unadorning man. Not any. WIL. I think I could have drawn the beer. RUTH. If you had it would never have reached the top of the cellar steps. But really, don't you think I've got through a fair day's work ? WIL. Yes ; more fair than necessary. That insane uncle of yours when he made his insane will, never contemplated any- thing more than that you should simply reside as a lady here at the farm during certain months of the year. He never meant you to tramp about like an infernal dairy-maid. KUTH. Had you cheese to dinner to-day ? WIL. Certainly ! RUTH. Did you like it ? WIL. I always do. RUTH. Then never abuse dairy-maids again, and don't tallc again about things you don't understand ; though if you were to obey me in this last particular, you'd never talk about any- thing at all. Uncle Cris's will intended me to do exactly what I am doing, and what I intend to do, for a couple of 6 RUTH'S ROMANCE, months to come. I know this is so, for I've paid innumer- able six and eightpences for the knowledge. I mean to comply with the trust to the very letter, and though my arms are brown, and my face freckle, my conscience will retain its usual capital complexion, and J shall sleep the slumber of the just. WIL. I should like to see a copy of that will. I'm sceptical about your construction of it. RUTH. It is not my construction. It's the construction of wise and aged men, who are as musty as the parchment they live by spoiling, as yellow as the sovereigns they pocket, and as learned as the books they swallow. WIL. Have you a copy of the document ? Let me give my opinion. You shall have it for nothing. RUTH. Thank you. You're at least an honest tradesman, and don't ask more for your wares than their value. But you'd go to sleep before you'd read a page of it. It's worse than the debate on the Budget, and covers half a quire of huge sheets, whilst I could tell its purport in half a minute . WIL. I'll bet you seven to two you can't. RUTH. Hush ! You promised never to bet again until you'd paid your debts, and by that time you'll have forgotten how to bet at all. WIL. Come, just a harmless wager. Seven to two in chocolate sticks. RUTH. Done. I never object to chocolate sticks. WIL. (taking out his ivatch. ) Go ahead. RUTH. " I, Christopher Carey, eccentric, industrious, and original, give to my frivolous, impudent, and, therefore, favourite niece, Ruth, all my farm called the Nest, with its adjoining lands, if during three months in the summer imme- diately following my death, she leave the abominable and abhorrable nonsense of the London season, and work honestly as a simple farm maiden upon such farm. If she refuse, or fail to do this, I devise the property to those little snobs, my half cousin's sons, Richard and Tom Cokeson, abso- lutely and unconditionally. " There, have I won the bet ? How long have I been ? WIL. (looking intently at his ivatch) You've just done it in no time. RUTH. I won't be called such a chatterbox as that. Let me look. (looks at the watch and then severely) I fear you're relapsing into your old loose ways. You didn't wind your watch up last night. What were you thinKing of ? WIL. That blessed infant : he has a lot to answer for already. RUTH. Yes, he ought to have some god- fathers. WIL. So he shall. I must pick a couple up somewhere. I suppose your conscientious obedience to the direction of that infatuated testator, your defunct, very properly defunct, uncle, will not prevent you from attending the christening. Gad ! If I had been a girl of your position, Ruth, I'd havo stopped in London, and let the property go to the dogs. RUTH. It wouldn't have gone to the dogs ! It would have gone to the Cokesons and they're puppies. Besides, if I choose to give up dances, garden parties, operas, parks and rinks, for hayfields, paddocks, stables, barns and pigsties, and I do this work with the consent of my father, what is it to anybody else ? \\IL. A cause for wonder, that's all, at such a choice, by a woman who is daughter to a county member, cousin to a countess, and RUTH. Sister-in-law to a donkey. WIL. Who married in his own condition of life, and there- fore the wife of this humble, docile, and long- suffering quad- ruped is RUTH. Also a donkey. Certainly, for marrying you. I have my reasons for submitting to this exile, though I don't choose that you should know them yet. But you'll oblige me by distinctly understanding that it is not for the mere selfish greed of gain that I stay here, making my face like that of a gipsy-queen in an opera, and my hands as coarse as the home- liest of oat-cake. Besides, I'm learning truths down here amongst this peasantry which it might be as well for some of us (a little sarcastically) "superior" sort of persons more familiarly to know. I've found out that corduroy is not necessarily the clothing of coarseness, nor a good broad accent the speech of vulgarity, and that high thoughts, fine susceptibilities, and keen jealousyof honour, take the un- warrantable liberty of existing under the roof of tenements let out at a rental of three shillings per week. WIL. That's very neat, Miss Claptrap, you ought to write a Radical pamphlet. That reminds me I've been doing some- thing in the shape of composition, (takes out paper) RUTH, (contemptuously) You compose ! Why, with your conscience, I don't believe you can even satisfactorily com- pose yourself. Are you going to publish the effusion ? WIL. Yes, I'm thinking about it. RUTH. And who is to be the fortunate editor ? WIL. Well, I shan't exactly send it to an editor. If it's published at all, it will have to be published, I expect as an advertisement. RUTH, (laughingly) Prose ? WIL. Poetry, exquisite poetry. s RUTH. Fiction ? WIL. Fact, enchanting fact, RUTH. May I ask to see the precious manuscript ? WIL. May I first ask you a question or two ? Do you know that I am a father ? RHTH. Yes, upon the authority of Alice. WIL. I want everybody to know it. RUTH. That wish is easily realised. Keep your bedroom windows op n, and with that wonderful youngster's compass of voice, everybody will know it. WIL. I propose a more effectual method tlian that ; I pro- pose in fact to send this to the Times, (hands RUTH paper) ROTH, (looldng at the paper) Do you? (reads) " On the second instant, at Ivy Cottage, Rookwood, Westshire, Captain Wilton, of a son and heir." WIL. (hastily) That's a slip of the pen. Let me alter it ? RUTH. Slip of the pen. Don't lay to the fault of the pen the preconceived folly of your brain. It's a slip altogether. (tears paper up) That for your absurd advertisement. WIL. What's the objection ? Surely I may inform a doubt- ful world that I'm the joint proprietor of a son and heir ? RUTH. Heir to what ? WIL. That's rather a botherer. I don't know that he's at present heir to anything except my debts, but they, from one point of view, are a very handsome property. RUTH. Now, answer me. Why are you living here in the quietest country village in England ? From choice ? WIL. Not altogether. RUTH. Why at all ? WIL. Because it's the last place in England where my con- founded creditors would think I was living, and until, by dint of economy, approaching niggardliness, their demands are liquidated, it is convenient to enjoy the calm and holy seclusion of a rural life. RUTH. (R.) Is it out of the range of probability that the wives or sisters of your confounded creditors read the birtli columns in the limes ? WIL. (L. ) I never knew a woman yet who didn't. RUTH. And is it out of the range of probability that the wives or sisters of your confounded creditors should retail interesting news to their husbands or brothers 1 Of course it isn't : and in your individual case what would the result be? WIL. The sheriffs officers, several sherifFs'officers, who'd seize everything I've got. RUTH. Including the baby, (crosses to L.) WIL. (R.) That would be a regular " distress " in the house. You're right. What a head you've got ! You won't be a bad investment after all to a marrying man who doesn't object to a lively time of it. I wonder whom you will marry ? RUTH, (sighing, quietly) I wonder, too. WIL. That means you hope it will be somebody soon. I don't wonder when a woman passes twenty, single life begins to pall on her. She wants a change. When I'm a free man again, I must look up some fellows I know, and mention the matter to them. What will you give me for a sweetheart ? RUTH. How do you know I haven't got one ? WIL. Where? RUTH. Here. I know several plough-boys eminent in their profession, and I'm on speaking terms with a most eligible butterman. WIL. Anybody else in your eye ? RUTH. Yes, and (earnestly) perhaps in my heart, too. There's a certain young and gallant cavalier staying at the old inn yonder, well bred, well educated, well looking. WIL. But you can't introduce yourself to him if he's a gentleman. You must draw the line somewhere and I don't think you'll let it extend much beyond the limit of butter- nien. It's scarcely prudent for a man in my parental position to visit a public-house in the vicinity of his own residence, where he's supposed to keep his own liquor but if you wish it, I'll look the young man over, and if sound, bring him down here in an ingeniously casual sort of way. RUTH. Don't unsettle your code of respectability on my account ; I know him already ; (shyly) very well. WIL. Impudent beggar ! He's introduced himself, then ? RUTH. No, he hasn't ; but if he had, where 's the harm ? I'm only a poor country girl, and not supposed to know what the formality of introduction means. WIL. Where is he from 1 He might be a creditor. The majority of the human race in Great Britain are. I hope you've not mentioned me ? RUTH. Don't flatter yourself. When you're out of sight I forget that you're in existence. WIL. That's very good of you. How did you get to know him ? How did he, or you, manage it ? Or how did you both manage it ? RUTH. How ? (melodramatically) He rescued me from a watery grave. WIL. (excitedly) Good heavens ! RUTH. I had all but perished in a fierce and cruel torrent when he, with a heroism I thought only to exist in sixpenny novels novels with yellow backs rushed and saved me, WIL. You've never mentioned this before, 10 RUTH. I feared to shock you. WIL. But where was it ? How did he do it 1 RUT T. It was on the high road, and he did it with an umbrella. It was raining cats and dogs, (goes to house) WIL. You're too much for me, Ruth. 1 shall go in the house, and leave you till you've had that rest. RUTH. Thank you. (she goes to porch and returns with two long pipes in one hand, and rough needlework in the other) See, I've been buying some new pipes for you. (she puts pipes on the table, and WILTOX takes up one} Go and have your smoke, for I know you want it. Men must smoke, as women must flirt. You'll find the decanters in the cellaret, the arm-chair in its usual corner, and that sepulchural housekeeper of mine, Mrs. Moggs, in her usual dumps. Try and persuade her to take an excursion out of them for half-an-hour. WIL. (L.) Not I. I can't stand Mother Moggs ; she's continually drumming it into me that I want more grace. I shall have a quiet puff and a nap. RUTH. A nap at this time ? WIL. If you understand anything of the condition of a married man with a demonstrative baby on his premis s, you will also understand his inclination to nap whenever he is able. Ta-ta. (nods loosely to RUTH, and is about to go in) RUTH, (indignantly) Raise your hat, sir, and don't jerk your head at me in that absurd way, as if you were calling a cab. Officers were once able to be gentlemen, even on half pay. WIL, And so they are now. (he takes his hat off" and bows in a ridiculously obsequious manner) RUTH, (impatiently seizing the hat. she throws it on the ground, pushes WILTON a little violently towards the porch) Go in, you stupid ! WIL. (a little angrily) Ruth, you're a RUTH, (interrupting) What ? WIL. (toning down) A rum girl, (goes in) RUTH, (musingly) A rum girl ! Am I a rum girl ? Per- haps I am, but I can't help it. Only a rum girl would allow a stranger a young stranger a handsome stranger to be in- troduced to her by an umbrella. Only a rum girl would allow herself to fall in love with such a stranger upon the ac- quaintance of a fortnight. But have I fallen in 'ove with him ? What are my symptoms ? Suspicious. When I meet him my pulse and my coljur simultaneously heighten. When I talk to him, I long to drop the formal " Mr. Dudley," and call him " Jack." I'm thinking of him all day, and my sleep is getting irregular. Does he think of me, and what does he think of me ? When he took my hand in ' ( Good fctJTH's ROMANCE. 11 night,*' last night, he hurt it a little, and that should mean something. Who is he ? I'm sure a gentleman, though it's lard to distinguish the genuine article now-a-days. I wish I'd 5 een him to-day. I wish -- 1 wish -- 1 don't know what I vish, except that I wish I wasn't such a rum girl, (looking ) Good gracious ! It's metaphysics, or something, but ic is coming now. (feeling her pulse) What an awful rattle t is going at. (she sits with her back to the lane and seivs industriously, and affects total unconsciousness of JACK DUDLEY, who enters at back, and stands pensively looking at her, lean- ing over the railings) JACK, (aside) " A rosebud set in little wilful thorns, And sweet as English air could make her. ' When Tennyson wrote that, he must have seen such a girl she is. AVhy can't I write poetry about her ? I feel it. What a contrast she is to the flimsy women I've left ! What s she working at ? Not useless, imbecile, embroidery noii- .ense, I'll be bound, but good honest plebeian calico. What vill society say if I ask her successfully, what day after day or a fortnight has told me. I can't help but ask her ? Bah ! Society is as hollow as the noise it makes I wish she'd look round. RUTH, (aside) Is h-3 there ? Watching me. If yes, I wonder how I look in this position. He doesn't speak Oh, "he should have gone ! (she, cautiously loolcs round) JACK, (raising his hat) Good evening ! How are you ? RUTH, (orusquely) As usual. JACK. That means very well. You see I'm here again ; I couldn't keep away. I hop e you're not sorry I've come. RUTH. Perhaps I am. You're always coming. I'm any- hing but sure that you're not getting a nuisance. A regular nuisance ! JACK. Yes ; regular because I come every day. But don't say I'm a nuisance, and don't look at me so severely. RUTH. I won't look at you at all. (turns from him) I'm not an inspector of nuisances ! JACK. Have I leave to come in ? Rura. Certainly not ! JACK. May I take Icavo ? RUTH. Yes ; leave of me. Good-bye ! (aside) I hope he won't think I mean that. JACK. Oh, let's come in. RUTH. Not with my permission. JACK. May I without ? RUTH, (shyly) Yes, if you like. 12 RUTH'S ROMANCE. (JACK comes in garden and stands, or sits, opposite to her oH the other side of the, table) JACK. What a jolly day it's been ! RUTH. Has it ? I've really not had time to think about it. JACK. No, you're always too industrious, early and late. Farming in the day, mending in the evening, (looks over her work) RUTH. It's never too late to mend : but I'm not mending now. I'm manufacturing. JACK. What is it ? RUTH. Harding sevenpence a yard. JACK. What will it be ? RUTH. A smock. JACK. "A smock ! " Doesn't it hurt your mouth to say it? Is it for yourself ? Do you wear smocks ? RUTH. Dear me, no ! It's for Hodge, the labourer, (in order to turn her work she puts one corner of the material between her teeth for a moment) JACK, (absently watching the movement) I wish I were a smock No no of course I don't mean that. I mean, I wish I were Hodge. RUTH. With ten children to feed ? JACK. No, by Jove ! Has he ten children ? (aside) What a devil of a lot they'll eat. A man's no business to have a family like that. It's a bad example to them. In a few years every other person one meets will be a Hodge. RUTH. Why did you wish you were Hodge ? JACK. Because then you'd make a smock for me. RUTH. I will as it is, if you'll turn out in the fields and work like him. JACK. I shouldn't mind. It would kill time. RUTH. What has Time done to deserve killing ? JACK. It so often drags along so wearily. RUTH. By killing it you'd stop it altogether. But here in the country we are taught to be Conservative, and I'm Con- servative, even in maxims. So I must admit that Time flies. JACK. Perhaps it does. But more like a great lumbering partridge than a swallow. RUTH. Then, if I know anything about guns, it should be easier to kill. Come, confess Time flies. JACK. It does now. It does always when I'm doing some- thing like this. RUTH, (nervously) Like what ? JACK. Talking to you. RUTH, (nervously) Do you like talking to me ? JACK, (earnestly) Far more than I can say. RUTH, (suddenly after an awkward pause, during which A RUTH'S ROMANCE. 13 has worked rapidly) Do you like weather ? No, I mean, do you like umbrellas \ JACK. Umbrellas ! I do indeed. I shall swear by them in future. KI T TH. The oath at all events will be original. It's usual, isn't it, for young men to swear " By Jove ! " JACK. Yes ; with an occasional variation in the shape of "Jingo." RUTH. Romeo swore by the moon, didn't he ? I wonder how he managed when there was no moon ? JACK. I should think he made use of the nearest lamp- post. Forgive my talking nonsense. RUTH. Don't mention it. I like it. JACK. So do I. I've not been able to talk nonsense for long. RUTH. How very clever and wise you must have been. JACK. No ; disheartened. Do you know what brought me from busy London here, into its completest contrast ? RUTH. Was it a cheap trip ? JACK. No ; another train of reason. I've lived and moved in town for a long time. I've seen there much that is good, and more that is worthless ; one-third of Truth to two of Humbug. Cynics in society of these advanced days are con- sidered fools, because cynicism and society's usages are at daggers drawn. But cynicism is no folly when it sneers at vice at fair young girls swearing to love, honour, and obey palsied mammons, with one foot in the grave ; at high-bred men who boast of the poor hearts they have wrecked ; at high-born women who are eternally simpering and smiling, not, heaven knows, because they're happy, but because they've brilliant teeth. I have seen all this, and though it's an unhealthy sentiment to feel better than one's neighbour, I irresistibly grew disgusted, sickened, bitter as wormwood. (L. of RUTH) RUTH. Bitter as wormwood ; how bitter is that ? Up to the standard of marmalade ? JACK. You're laughing at me. RUTH. It was such a long speech with so many big words in it. I'm sure you must be very thirsty after it. What may I offer you ? JACK. What can you offer me ? RUTH. Being such a convert to the country, what do you say to milk ] JACK. Well, there's a good deal of sameness about milk, but I don't mind. Where is it. RUTH. Oh, you'll have to go and help yourself ; you'll find a cow in the next field but one. 14 lltJTH*S JACK. No, its pure strength would bo too much for me. \V'e Londoners are not accustomed to take our milk neat. How you do quiz i But I like you to laugh at me. 1 came here seeking honest laughter and candour, and freshness and brightness, and I've found more than I ever hoped to find in this dear place, and, let me say, in you. RUTH. That's very good of you. Unfortunately I've not got a convenient forelock, or I'd pull it. (in a matter-of-fact way) It's very gratify ing, very gratifying indeed, to know that Rookwood and / have exceeded your expectations. What did you think to find the place ? JACK. Natural, thorough, straight. RUTH. And its people I JACK. Also natural, thorough, straight. But I confess (pointedly) not graceful, and clever, and refined, and very beautiful. RUTH. I see. You believed that the male portion of our community could only (mimicking) grin " ee, ee," and blurt out " Es, Zur," and that the highest accomplishments of a dairy -maid lay in her ability to drop eyelids, curtsey, and h's. JACK. Scarcely so bad as that ! I thought RUTH. Only to be able to tolerate us, and you find that you like us in spite of yourself. JACK. So much, that I think I shall stop here always. Why not? I could turn farmer, and every week take my farm- yard produce to the market in the most uncomfortable gig that ever incompetent coach-builder conceived. Huge baskets of butter, cream, cheese, and eggs. RUTH. How many eggs wouid you sell for a shilling ? JACK. That would altogether depend upon the industry of the hens. Oh, I think I could work a farm famously in every department. RUTH. Do you ? Who'd churn your butter, milk your cows, look after your parlour curtains, regulate your mangling, and superintend your peggy tub ? JACK. Of course I should require help in certain necessary details ; and whom do you think I should ask to help me ? RUTH, (nervously) How can I tell, Mr. Dudley 1 I suppose you'd hire somebody at eighteen pence a day. JACK. No, I should study economy. I should ask you to help me for nothing. RUTH, (her head bent to her work) I scarcely understand you. JACK. Then I'll cut parable and try to make myself under, stood. (Ruth seivs furiously) I want you to help me in every- thing (leaning across the table, and speaking earnestly) to help me to be better, and healthier-minded, and happier. I want 15 yon to believe, Ruth, that I love you very, very much, and that I hope you will be my wife. RUTH, (as if pained) Oh, Mr. Dudley, you have JACK. Not offended, or hurt you ? RUTH. No, made me prick my fingers, (her eyes still doivn, turned) You see, Mr. Dudley, I know so little of you. JACK. Trust me, I'll give you every opportunity of knowing more. RUTH. And you see, too, Mr. JACK. You'll make me feel desperate if you call me " Mr." My name's Jack. RUTH. That's short for John, isn't it ? JACK. I'm never called John, except by the Governor, when he rows me, and he very often does. RUTH. Who is the Governor? JACK. My father. RUTH. What is your father ] JACK. How do you mean ? RUTH. What's his profession, his business ? JACK. He is in the Baronet interest. RUTH. Are you the son of a real live Baronet ? (rises) But what would he say of your proposal to a poor, simple, rustic fcpecimen like me ? JACK. I don't like to tell you. RUTH. But I wish you to. JACK. If you insist I suppose I must tell you. He'd say RUTH, (quickly interrupting) Stop a bad word I JACK. Several. RUTH. Then tell me what he'd say ivithout the bad words] JACK. He'd say nothing, (down front) RUTH. He must be a very dreadful man. JACK. He's about the average of Baronets who've got the gout. RUTH. What are his politics ? JACK. Like your eyes, true blue. RUTH. Then his is not a "short sighted policy." And suppose suppose nothing more, yet that I do care for you just a little, would you, with this gulf of station between us, in spite of all, be thoroughly constant, thoroughly true? JACK. Always true. RUTH. HOAV true ? JACK. As as true as steel. RirjH. Even if that simile were original, I shouldn't like it. Steel is so cold, and if you're going to be like steel, you'4 get rusty when you were cried over ? JACK. Cried over ! Why should I be cried over \ 16 RUTH'S ROMANCE. RUTH. All girls cry over their sweethearts some time or another. Try again. JACK. Then as true as gold. RUTH. What carat ? JACK. Eighteen, of course. RUTH. You'd never relapse into anything approaching aluminium 1 Always gold 1 Eighteen carat ? JACK. Always. RUTH. Then I'll JACK, (taking her hand across the table) Take me ? RUTH. Yes, and call you Jack. JACK. The happiest Jack living. RUTH. That's saying a good deal (both sit. After a pause) So we're engaged, (after a pause, shyly) Doesn't it strike you that there's something a little incomplete about the arrangement ? In London, when a man proposes to, and is accepted by a woman, isn't it usual for him to to kiss her? JACK. (L. , eagerly) It is indeed, (he sits on the table close to her). RUTH. Of course, you know of course, it is of no great consequence, but it's sometimes done in the country. JACK. It's a pity to be exceptional, (kisses her, and puts his arm around Jier). RUTH, (touching his arm) I'm not sure that this is customary in the country. JACK. Then we'll sec a wholesome precedent. RUTH. But if anybody sees us, what shall we look like ? JACK. If ' ' anybody " is fanciful like the sun and the sea over there in the distance. RUTH. The sun's popularly supposed to be a " He " so you're the sun. JACK. Yes, and you're the sea. Look the sun is kissing " good-night " to the sea, and doesn't the sea seem to like it I RUTH. I don't know. She's blushing dreadfully. JACK. She'll moan very dismally when the sun has left her, and when she has to be contented to enjoy only the memory of him in the shape of the moon. But he'll come back to her to-morrow evening. RUTH. Yes, after having kissed sundry other seas in the meantime. But he might not come back to her for many evenings. Clouds might rise between them. You're rather unhappy in your comparisons. JACK. I can't be unhappy in anything now. No clouds, no doubts, shall ever arise between its. We shall trust each other implicitly. No jealousies, no suspicions, no secrets. RUTH. No secrets ! Well, I have a wee secret, so wee, it's scarcely worth sharing with you. RUTH'S ROMANCE. 17 JACK. Don't be selfish. Give me half of it. RUTH. Not now ; I'll test your patience, and tell you when we can find nothing else to talk about. JACK. Then you'll never tell it to me. What is it ? RUTH. Only a little romance of my own. But it's too late to tell it now. See, the sun is going. You must go, too. JACK. Not yet. RUTH. (rising) Then the sea must rise and leave the sun. I must go. Farewell, resplendent sun. JACK. Farewell, imperious ocean. RUTH, (offering her Jiand) Good-night, Jack. JACK, (kissing her) Good-night, Ruth (Exit RUTH) JACK, (after a pause) I wonder if there's a shop in the dis- trict where I can buy an engagement ring. No, hang it ! I'll go in for a wedding ring right off, and marry her to-morrow. Why shouldn't I ? Every man for himself is this unselfish world's motto, and why should I throw away self-happiness because my high sisters and mighty brothers will weep and gnash their teeth over what they will idiotically term a "mes- alliance." Your wife can't be a lady, they'll say, " because she worked for her bread and butter." I foresee the style of commotion. Gushing girls who can't put together an average English sentence, will turn up their lovely lips because she can't gabble in French. Artistic maiden aunts will look severe because she doesn't paint like they do. Musical connois- seurs who never have their hair cut, will shake their luxuriant locks in depreciation, because she can't play, (a soft piano symphony within) By Jove, though she can. (he sits and takes out tobacco pouch) It's queer how well smoke and sound go together Beethoven and Bacca. Confound it ! I've forgotten my pipe, (seeing long pipe) Here is a pipe, a long pipe, of course. There's bound to be a fairy influence about her home. (fills pipe sternly) But who smokes long pipes here ? (laughing) What an ass I am ! Mrs. Moggs, of course. Mrs. Moggs is a very old woman, and very old women smoke, (lights pipe) I wonder why very old women smoke I suppose it's because they've been women such a long time, that they want to get a taste of what it's like to be a man. (song inside, RUTH. After song, rising, still smoking) With a prize like her, I snap my fingers at the world. Changeable, fickle, inconstant, as as as, what ? Summer ; I thank thee, as a butterfly the first I've seen this year, (thiows his hat down as if to catch a butterfly, and it falls close by WILTON'S) Missed her. ( picks up WILTON'S hat) A hat, a man's hat ; and not a working man's hat either ; Mrs. Moggs doesn't wear this. I may be an idiot, but I don't like to see such a hat as this here, because the possibility is that there's a head to fit it. (looks into the hat t 18 and reads with surprise) " Captain George Wilton." He used to have the reputation of being the fastest man in town. What does he want here? I don't half like this. Half like it. Damn it ! I don't like it at all. (goes to back as if in deep thought) Enter WILTON, bareheaded, also smoking a long pipe. WIL. Ruth not here ! I suppose she's gone to put hor things on, and Vanity only knows how long she'll be. What an alarming number of looking glasses a woman must wear out in the year. It takes her three quarters of an hour to put on her hat ; and then it doesn't fit properly. It takes a man three-quarters of a second to put on his. (lie picks up JACK'S hat, supposing it to be his own, and hastily jerks it on his head) And it doesn't fit properly either, (he takes off the hat and examines it turning, sees JACK) JACK. Excuse me, bufc you've got my hat. WIL. The coincidence is singular, but you've got mine. JACK. You are Captain Wilton ! (they cluinge hats) I fancy I've met you in town on two or three occasions at WIL. (hastily) Never mind saying where. JACK. Don't you remember me. WIL. I think I do. Dudley's your name, isn't it ? (aside) This is infernally awkward. He'll go back to London, let out the secret of my whereabouts. I shall bo inundated with writs, and the baby will be sold up. But he mustn't know I'm permanently domiciled here. JACK, (aside) He's not glad to see me. I'm getting devilish uneasy about this, (they look distrustfully at each other in silence, both smoking) May I ask what you're doing down in these parts ? WIL. Oh, I don't know smoking. What are you ? JACK. Smoking, too. (another pause) What are you doing down in these parts when you're not smoking ? WIL. Nothing industriously. JACK. In town, lately, I've heard you rather anxiously inquired about. WIL . (innocently) Have you ? Very likely. I'm missed no doubt. I always was considered a capital sort of fellow, you know you know don't you know. A capital sort of fellow, you know. JACK, (drily) Yes, I know, (aside) A borrowed capital sort of fellow. Have you been here long 1 ? WIL. (embarrassed) A few months ; no, I mean a few hours that is, perhaps, twenty minutes. JACK. The three periods are a little inconsistent. WIL. You'd better strike an average, (aside) It is the sacred duty of a parent to protect, at any cost of feeling RUTH'S ROMANCE. 19 the interests of his offspring, and if this cross-examination continues, I shall be reluctantly compelled to lie, like Billy. JACK. Are you living here ? WIL. Certainly not. (aside) Literally here is here, this place so I've kept to the path of rectitude so far. JACK. You used to have the name of being the most ardent devotee in London life and pursuits ; it's a little strange to find you smoking a long pipe in a hamlet of about sixty inhabitants. WIL. (ingeniously) Fine country, lovely landscapes, superior foliage, and all that. There's a splendid fall of water over the hills there. Go and nee it. It's only six miles off, and if you start at once you may get a glimpse of it before dark. Take my advice start at once. JACK, (aside) He wants to get rid of me, but he'll find the fall of water won't wash, (to WILTON) I agree with you. The cascade is a fine one ; I was there yesterday. WIL. Try it by night, when there's a good moon on that's the time. Don't miss the opportunity ; no time like the present. It's rumoured in the district that after to-night there won't be another good moon on for years. I have this from America. Let me assure you, my dear young friend, that the weird phosphorescent rays shining on the seething cataract is like like (at a loss for a simile) JACK. Moonshine ; I enjoyed this wonderful spectacle a week ago. WIL. A week ago, did you ? From what I remember of you, London life and pursuits were not to your taste wholly unpalatable. Now, what the devil do you want, pmoking a long clay in a hamlet of sixty inhabitants ? (aside) I'll give hima, turn or two now. JACK. I have my reasons. WIL. You don't owe anybody anything, do you ? JACK. No except, perhaps, a grudge or two. WIL. Confine yourself to liabilities of that uncommercial nature, and you'll never have occasion to go into liquida- tion. JACK. I've no ambition in that direction. If one doesn't meet his engagements, he has to avoid those with whom they are made, and I like to look my fellow-men in the face. WIL. So do I, except when my fellow-men happen to be ugly customers like creditors. JACK. I should think fellow-women come more in your way. WIL. Considerably. And if they don't come in my way 1 go in theirs. 20 RUTH'S ROMANCE. JACK, (uneasily) I see. Perhaps that's why you are herel WIL. (with a wicked wink) Perhaps, (aside) Gad ! Here's a capital and, to him, consistent way out of the situation. (to JACK) Rusticity on the stage, with its red petticoats and bare arms, and its daintily-clad ankle, always fetched me awfully ; so I thought I'd take a flying visit only a flying visit, mind and just look over the real thing. JACK. What do you think of the real thing 1 WIL. Mediocre very. JACK. That's a slander ; I don't agree with you. WIL. Oh ! you're up to the same game, are you ? Well, boys will be boys. JACK. Yes, when they ou^ht to be men. I presume, then, Captain Wilton, since you find the result of this flying visit of yours mediocrity, you'll soon bring it to a close. You're not the sort of bird to flutter in mid-air, like an innocent pheasant you like to soar. WIL. Like the bee-utiful lark. JACK. No ; like the hawk. When do you go 1 WIL. Let me see. Have you a Bradshaw ] JACK. There's no train before morning. WIL. (resignedly) Ah ! then I shall have to make another night of it. (sits L.) JACK. Where are you going to sleep ? WIL. If you ask that question with the ulterior object of sleeping with me, I may as well tell you at once, that there are cogent reasons to be urged against the arrangement. JACK. Strangers on a flying visit to a village generally roost in the only available nest the village affords namely, the village hostelry. You are not staying there. May I ask where you are staying f WIL. (angrily) You may ask, but the matter will end there. I'm sick of this beastly badgering, and I must decline to ex- cuse it, unless you're training for an Old Bailey barrister ; or compiling a directory, or picking up ideas for a catechism. JACK. As you please, (putting down pipe and speakinj sternly) But remember WIL. Steady! Don't get uncivil. Civility, you know, is seldom lost. JACK. You're right. It's seldom found. Remember, I repeat, that I have my suspicions concerning your presence here, and I'm interested in testing their accuracy. If they are accurate, I shall adopt measures that may be unpleasant to you. (aside) I must have a tramp, and think this out. (Exit furiously} Wiu (musingly) He is interested in my presence here lie 21 adopt measures that may be unpleasant to me. (melo- dramatically) Ha ! ha ! I see it all ! The blow has fallen, the crisis has come, and the workhouse and limited diet are inevitable. I've had too many lawyer's letters to be ignorant of the meaning of "adopting unpleasant measures." I see it all ! Speculation is the mania of the day, and Dudley has bought up some of those I. O.U. 's of which I am the prolific author. He has hunted me down, and when he finds, as he must find, that I am a respectable householder, he'll realise. I see it all ! There will be an open air auction in the front garden, of my desirable effects, and that lovely little cradle will go for a mere song, (leans against the table in deep thought, and does not seem to see RUTH, ivho enters dressed for walking, and half amused at his abstraction, looks fixedly into this face) RUTH. Well, and what's supposed to be the matter with !you? WIL. (mechanically) 1 am looking disgrace and degradation in the face. RUTH. If you mean me for disgrace and degradation, you couldn't be better employed. What are you thinking about? WIL. Thinking which is the least expensive and the most tasty poison to be purchased. RUTH. Captain Wilton, I shall be sorry to resort to ex- tremities, but if you persist in continuing in this semi-im- becile condition, I shall call two of the men and have you pumped on. WIL. (R. ) Yes, you're right. Water will be as easy an end as any water, with a touch of brandy in it ! Ruth. (L.) If you are to be taken to the pump, you might as well be shaken before taken, (shakes him, turns him to L. Shaken out of his letJiargy) WIL. (L.) Hallo, Ruth, how are you? I didn't see you. Fact is, I've been in deep thought. RUTH. (R). Deep thought, indeed ! You might think it was deep. But then you're such a little man. WIL. I confess it ; but I shall soon be less. I shall shortly be a perfect nonentity a mere cipher. RUTH. No, you won't. A cipher's a round O, and a round O's a circle, and there's no end to a circle. Besides, a cipher is something of a figure ; you're not. Don't you see I'm ready to go up with you to the cottage. Why don't you offer me your arm I WIL. (absentbi) Here it is. Take it whilst it's to be of any use to yon. I shan't be able to support myself soon. Dear me ! The melancholy truth is, I am not myself. KUTH. Aren't you I I don't think you've any need tp 22 grumble a:, that. It strikes me you and the cellaret have been making friends, and I shall go and take off my things, for I don't feel comfortable in trusting myself *o your care on such a lonely walk, (impatiently) Come, George, do end this mummery. Do stop being a riddle. You're put out. WIL. Not so much put out as found out, by an irate creditor who, as far as my somewhat copious experience in such matters will permit me to judge, is not disposed to wait for his money. RUTH. All the better if he won't wait for it ; you'll be the sooner rid of him. Who is he WIL. A fellow call Dudley. A mean Saturday afternoon swell sort of man. RUTH. Never mind the personal appearance. How much do you owe him ? WIL. I've not the vaguest shadow of a slender conception. RUTH. Surely you know how much you borrowed from him ? WIL. The agitating amount of nothing. 1 never exchanged a dozen words wr h hi a before. RUTH. Then how in the world do you come to owe him money ? WIL. In the financial world, by a very usual process, owe fifty pounds to Smith, and as time goes on, I go off. Smith begins to think the property a trifle shaky. In comes Brown, and offers to buy the debt for half the sum, and that's the sort of playfulness Dudley has been up to. RUTH, (aside) I shouldn't have thought it of my unworldly Jack, (to WILTOX, earnestly) I am sorry beyond expression that you owe money to Mr. Dudley. WIL. I do owe money, and how does it matter to you to vrhom I owe it ? RUTH. In this way. (she sits) In the present case, I may become a sort of creditor of yours, and, knowing you as I do, the position is not an enviable one. WIL. How could you ? RUTH. I'm going to marry Mr. Dudley, that's all. WIL. Are you ? When was the festive little negotiation concluded ] UUTH. A few minutes ago. He is the cavalier of the inn I spoke of. WIL. You seem to have been working things pretty briskly. RUTH. Even the commerce of farm life has taught me that there's nothing like expedition. WIL. I suppose, to go through the matter consistently you'll marry him in about half-an-hour ? RUTH. Perhaps you'll forbid the marriage ? (she rises) H T JTH'S ROMANCE. 23 WIL. No ; it's against public policy to do anything in estraint of matrimony, and (after a pause) by all that's pportune, the cradle may yet be saved. You will mediate, eg his clemency, and ask him to suspend arrangements with .is highness, the sheriff, until I have accumulated some .vailable assets. Drawing a moving picture of the havoc fhich proceedings would occasion to my little homestead ; iving him a touching story of the holy peace of domestic life, nd all that sort of bosh. You will do something for me, ron't you, for my sake ? RUTH. Certainly not for your sake, (crosses to L). WIL. (R.) Then for Alice's. RUTH. (L.) No ! she married with her eyes open, without ven the excuse of a squint. WIL. Then for the baby's, (with emphasis) for your ephew's sake. RUTH, (relenting) Ah, you evidently know the weak tender- ess of a newly manufactured aunt. Well, the appeal will be .umiliating, but I'll make it. WIL. You're a brick, Ruth, and I should like to order a lousand of you. Do you know, if I'd never seen Alice, I link I should have proposed to you ? RUTH. Then Alice's existence has saved you from a snub- ing you would never have forgotten. But I don't believe ou are speaking the whole truth. Indeed, I believe you only. 3ok Alice as a last chance of making a union with our dis- inguished family after seeing your case was hopeless as far as was concerned. 1 WIL. No, I deny that. It's a slander on Alice. RUTH. A girl can only judge a man's sentiments by a man's jonduct ; and Gush wasn't the name for yours. You were wful. WIL. If I was, it was the more safely to secure Alice by making her jealous. There's nothing like jealousy for in- lucing healthy competition amongst women. But I deny your allegation in toto. Can you give me an instance when I've suggested grounds that you were the high game I was liming at 1 RUTH. Fifty at the least, (they talk in merry dumb show it L.) Enter JACK at the back, n.c. JACK, (aside) I can't think it out ; Ruth must help me ouf . [sees WILTON and RUTH) He does know her, and she doesn't jeem to dislike the acquaint mce either. The Hawk and the Dove. I wish the Dove would look a little more fluttered ; \ trifle less at ease. Listeners never hear any good of them- 24 RUTH'S ROMANCE, selves, but I'm no egotist ; and so 1 shall listen. It isn'1 sufficient only to keep my eye upon you, Sir Hawk, my ear must help, (he stands at the back listening) WIL. Never ! I never meant to marry you. Prove it. Give me one or two of these instances. RUTH. I will, you base and perjured man. Don t you remember Goodwood, when you wilfully bet very long odds on the most notoriously broken-down outsider with me, for the mere luxury of buying me huge boxes of the daintiest gloves. Don't you remember Asct, when you forewent the sight of its most exciting race, for the sake of driving back, in the broiling sun, to Windsor, for my forgotten parasol 1 Didn't you, during the journey home, link your arm in mine, and quoting the thrillingest of Owen Meredith's verse, look up into my eyes, like a languishing black-and-tan-terrier ? Haven't you written me notes in perfumed envelopes, and sent me valentines like small transformation scenes in the pantomimes you've taken me to see ? Haven't you looked white,when I looked black at you,red, when I've been amiable, and blue, when I've pulled your ears? Haven't you, in short,by word and deed, given me every reason to suppose that you meant to make me your wife 1 WIL. Well, I can't marry you now, you know ; can I, Ruth 1 RUEH. (tragically) No, false one, it is now too late. There is now but left to me the hope that I m iy regain my lost happiness, and recover my attenuated from when I marry Jack my Jack. JACK, (aside) I'm her Jac'c ! WIL. And when will the marriage come off ? RUTH. As soon as possible. " When a girl gets past twenty," you know, " single life begins to pill on her." JACK, (aside) And this is my beautiful, pure, unsullied dove ! (he comes forward unobserved, and mechanically toys with the long pipe as he listens) WIL. A nd where shall you live ? RUTH. In dear old London, I devoutly hopo. WIL. Never to re-visit these sylvan scenes ? RUTH. (L.) Oh yes. I shall slip down whenever it's practic- able to kiss the precious baby. JACK. (c. , aside) Baby ! So is the image broken ; so is the idol shattered ! (drops the pipe which break* upon the floor) WIL. (R., disturbed by the noise, turns and sees JACK) Hallo! He's there. I thought he wouldn't lose sight of me. (to JACK with a half-familiar, half-nervous nod) How cle do again ? Not be 311 to see the waterfall ] (to RUTH) I'll go in. Try and arrar g j the little matter with him as well as you cai. RUTH'S ROMANCE. 25 (crosses L.) I'll keep near the door, and when you come to anything definite and favourable, wink, or whistle, or some- thing. (Slit, L.) RUTH, (to JACK) You here yet, good sun ? You ought to be almost at the antipodes by now. JACK, (curtly) If the antipodes are as opposite in thought and feeling as they are in locality, I wish I were there. RUTH. (L.) I don't quite see that; you're getting a little too deep in your metaphor. And how gloomy you look ! Not a bit like the sun, except through smoked glass. I see how it is ! You've lingered so long by the sea that it's salt spray has damped your lustre. JACK. (R.) Will you, for a moment or two, cease this non- sense ? RUTH. If you wish it, but I thought you liked nonsense ! JACK. Yes, when it's the wholesome recreation of a good conscience. Not when it's the veil of vice. RUTH. Is that an extract from a sermon? I can preach too Be very good and you'll be very unhappy. Do unto others as you would that they should do unto you, and they probably won't. I believe you're in a bad temper. JACK. Do you ? RUTH. Yes. At any rate you're not in a good one, and judging by your woe-begone expression, you've not hit a nappy medium. But I'm sorry you're in a bad temper, PS I've a little confession, and a rather humiliating appeal to make to you. JACK. I can spare you both. I guess the nature of the appeal ; I have heard the confession. I listened, just now, to your interview with Captain Wilton. RUTH. Oh indeed, did you ? Of course with your know- ledge of upper class propriety, it's impossible for you to commit any breach of excellent form, but in the uneducated, uncivilised country we are abandoned enough to consider eaves-dropping a little mean. JACK. Have you anything further to say ? RUTH. No, I'm a little cross, and if anything it will be something horribly formal about the weather, (crosses B. ) JACK. (L., viciously) Then it only remains for me to settle accounts with him. RUTH, (aside) Settle accounts ! I shall have to melt after all. I must keep my promise to plead for poor George, (to JACK) Do exercise a little forbearance towards him. Think of the poor baby, which you know will be a kind of relative of yours when we're married. (JACK turns away disgusted) Well, I should never have thought this of you, Jack ! 26 RUTH'S ROMANCE. JACK. Don't think anything of me ; and don't call me "Jack." RUTH. Then "John," though I'm not very angry, and I haven t got the gout JACK. You don't quite appear to realise the seriousness of the occasion; but, perhaps, with you, so frivolous a woman RUTH. Silence ! Until I'm nearer thirty than twenty, I won't be called a woman. You're very rude, and I don't know what you mean. JACK. I mean, then, that there is an unbridgable chasm placed between us, by your connection with that man, Captain Wilton. Is that plain ? KUTH. (aside, a little amazed) Plain ! It's downright ugly. (to JACK) Yet, surely, you cannot mean that because I am really not the poor, homely, simple peasant maid you believed me to be because George, Captain Wilton, has been a little thoughtless and reckless JACK, (impatiently) I mean exactly what I say ; and as you admit what I say to be perfectly intelligible, there is an end of the matter. RUTH, (severely) No, there's not. You shall listen to what I say and mean before you go. Listen ! Rather than trust myself for ever to such a variable, capricious, unworthy windmill a sham, as your lately professed attachment proves upon the puniest test to be I'd live here obscure, unmarried, unloved, speaking to, and seeing no man, except George Wilton and that's saying a good deal for a girl of my attractions. George Wilton ! Why, he's worth a score of such concentrations of namby-pamby virtue as you. I hate your goody-goody young men. George Wilton ! What if he has ordered half-a-dozen suits of clothes, or borrowed half-a-dozen five-pound notes, and some unconscionable horse's fickle legs have hindered the honestly - intended payment. He will pay some time, and pay with interest, too. He has done with his folly now ; he has sown his wild oats JACK. Which are ripening into a harvest of infamy. RUTH. You're wrong. He never deliberately, and with malice aforethought injured any man. That he is, and always was, incapable of wronging any woman, I will stake my character. JACK. By all means. It is the best thing you can do, for, luckily, you're certain to lose it. RUTH. Luckily, from your point of view, for if I were to lose it, you'd look anxiously until you found it, and then, with a stolen passport, gain an entrance into the most desir- able society. How much does Captain Wilton owe you ? HUTH'S ROMANCE. 27 JACK. Owe me ! More than he can ever pay me. RUTH. What's the amount ? You won't be ashamed to take the money even from me. JACK, (angrily) Money ! What money ? RUTH. I mean the money Captain Wilton owes you. JACK. His debt is not one of common-place money. (pointedly) I have been a fool, but never either sufficiently foolish, or sufficiently rich, to invest my capital in so risky a concern as Captain Wilton. RUTH. Then he doesn't owe you anything ? JACK. If by any strange chance, you should ever be blest with a touch of the refining influence of sentiment and suscepti- bility, you may catch a glimpse of the enormity of the debt. RUTH. What are the items ? JACK. They should be posted in the ledger of your own conscience. RUTH. We don't do our book-keeping on that principle here. JACK. If you did, you'd find on reference such items as these Ascot Goodwood arm linked in arm languishing eyes perfumed envelopes huge valentines. (R.) Do you wish me to go on ? RUTH. No, thank you, that will do just now. (laughs merrily then aside) I see the whole idea the foolish, im- pulsive, absurd, jealous darling, (laughs again, then, turns to the porch and whistles quaintly to WILTON, who comes to the door) It's all a mistake ; you don't owe him a farthing. WIL. (L. ) Don't I ? I'll give my lungs a treat, and breathe again, (draws a long breath) Lovely atmosphere ! It licks Italy ! RUTH, (c.) Jack and I are quarrelling. He has been very unjust and insolent in word and thought. What shall I do ? WIL. (L.) Harrow him up. You're just the girl to do it. Commence harrowing him up at once, (he leans lazily against the porch looking on) RUTH, (to JACK, who in the meantime has seemed in hesitation between going and stopping) And so, Mr. Dudley, this is your consistency ; this your premise- your plausible promise that no clouds should rise between us ; on the shallowest pre- tence you conjure up a regular London fog. You true as steel ? Why, you'd put to blush the most inferior Britannia metal. JACK. Have you finished your programme of abuse? May I be now permitted to go ? RUTH, (aside) 1 11 take care he doesn't, (to JACK) Yes, you mav go if you don't intend to pay for the pipe you have 28 broken, and (laughing} if you're quite sure you wouldn't like to have a peep at the baby. JACK, (enraged) For it's sake, don't bring it in my way, or I shall strangle it. WIL. (coming forward, c., hotly) Strangle it, will you 'I Damme, sir, you'd better get about it, Perhaps you'd like to nave a grip at it's mother, too. JACK, (threateningly) Yes, and strangle you also, you con- temptible little cur. (they seem to be on the verge of a fight when RUTH interferes) RUTH, (c.) Gentlemen. No, I don't mean "gentlemen ;" I retract that. I mean Captain Wilton and Mr. John Dudley, how dare you brawl here before me? This is not a public-house, and you're not intoxicated navvies licensed to be drunk on the premises. JACK. (L. , raising his hat, sarcastically) You are right ; you are at least a woman, (to WILTON) We shall see each other again. WIL. As I don't owe you anything, you can make your own appointment. I'll be there, you may depend, to receive not only your apologies for your cursed impertinence towardg me, but also towards the daughter of Colonel Carey, and my wife's sister. JACK, (mystified) I don't understand you. Give me a moment. What does it mean ? RUTH, (pleasantly) I'll tell you, Jack. WIL. (inter nqrtingly) Don't stop to give any explanation to such a cub. RUTH. Yes, I shall. I'm not going to hold my tongue and lose a good-looking husband. They are too scarce. My blood is up, and what I told you, in no time, by your in- animate watch, T can tell him in less. (RuTH goes and explains in dumb show to JACK) WIL. (still very angry, aside) Is a man who did his duty at Inkerman to accept passively the appellation of a contemp- tible cur ? No, I'll be hanged if I do ; and I'll let him see that the muscle which could wield a sabre can play with a horsewhip . (exit in porch, L. ) JACK. (R.) And this is your little secret, this your romance, Ruth ? RUTH. (L.) Do you like it ? (at table) JACK. I should like it better if I had not made for it so ridiculous a sequel. Enter WILTON with a large cotton umbrella. (aside) Not a horsewhip within reach ; but if he's RUTH'S ROMANCE. 29 decently human, I dare say I can make him howl with the help of this gamp of Mother Moggs's. (to JACK) Now, sir I_ give you ten seconds to withdraw the canine epithet you ap" plied to me. (takes out his watch, but sheepishly puts it back, a 9 RUTH laughs meaningly at him) JACK. I'll withdraw everything except myself. Pray pardon me. WIL. Not so easily. You must be taught a lesson ; and you (RUTH whispering to him) Eh! Ah! What ! Well ! And you're forgiven on one condition the condition that you stand godfather to the boy. JACK. With pleasure to all your boys. WIL. Well, one at a time, my impetuous young friend ; but I don't wish you to run blindfold into any engagement ; and I vote you come up with us to the cottage and see what you've taken upon yourself that is, if you won't try any of your garrotting dodges on. Will you come ? RUTH, (shyly) It's a very nice walk, Jack. WIL. With lots of avenues and things. Just suit you two in your feverish condition. I promise to keep on well in front ; and then think of the stroll back. JACK. Yes, jolly. There's a good moon on, isn't there ? WIL. There'll soon be a better a honeymoon. RUTH. Don't talk rubbish ! We're not going to be mar ried for years yet. JACK. Oh, yes, we are ; I heard you say that you meant to marry me as soon as possible, and as soon as possible shall the marriage be, in the country church, by the country par~ son, with country bridesmaids, whose bouquets shall com- prise every species of country flowers. WIL. Except, of course, the cauliflower. RUTH. I claim to be slightly Interested in the matter, and pnt my veto upon the whole arrangement. Our wedding and our home shall be in London, (to JACK) Your " palsied mammon" theory shews you to be in a state of moral dis- organisation, and I'm going to reform you, and prove your cynicism to be nonsense after all. WIL. But, I say, you know, Ruth, I should like to rub up some rusting rhetoric at the breakfast, and with the millstone of debt round my neck, I can't hold my head up in London, for at least two years. RUTH. Yes, you can in two months. In that time this farm and its accumulated income will be iiRconditionally mine ; and I propose, and all along have proposed, after enr 30 RUTH'S ROMANCB. joying the property for about a couple of hours, to hand it over to you, with my blessing. WIL. No, no, by Jove ! couldn't think of RUTH. George, you are not ginger-beer, and I must beg you not to effervesce. My sister's husband must mix honestly again with honest men in his own rank of life. All I ask of you in return is that you mend your ways, and set a brilliant example to that little lump of mortality, your son. JACK. His little thread of life is already interwoven with WIL. A regular little yarn, a regular bright little story, the first he shall read ; for I'll have it printed in terrific capitals, and teach him to spell it through myself. IUTH. And I'll name the story what? JACJ*. A new way to pay other people's old debts, eh, Wilton ? JtuTH. Don't be mean. I'll have no such title. WIL. A new way to get a sweetheart, eh, Dudley 1 (he looks knowingly at DUDLEY, and holds the umbrella open over him and RUTH) RUTH. Don't be silly that is worse still. JACK and WIL. What will you call it ? RUTH. A far, far prettier name. I'll christen it with a cup of cream, and call it " RUTH'S ROMANCE." (they all turnup stage as if going off over stile) Rejmin, " THE FARMER'S Boy." CURTAIN. MISCELLANEOUS PLAYS. Many very scarce. Price 6d. each, unless otherwise marked. denotes burlesque, (c) comedy, (c d) comic drama, (c o) comic opera id) drama, (ex) extravaganza, (f) farce, (f p) fairy play, (i) interlude m d) melodrama, (o b) opera boufife, (p) play, (r) romance, (t) tragedy, r) vaudeville. belard and Heloist (d), S, It. Bnckstont bon Hassan (ex). A. O'Neal bon Hassan (c d), 2 Irian and Orilla (p), 5. W. Dimond gamemnon & Cassandra (b). R. Reee taddin II. (o b), Is. A. Thompson lhambra (b). A. Smith rmourer's Daughter (ex). H. T. Ardem thenian Captive (t), 5, 1*. L. N. Talfourd kilifTi Daughter (f), 1 ttl* of Life (d), 3,' 1*. A. Smith Bast and Beauty (b). F. C. Burnand ea Nash (c), 3. D. Jerrold ird of Paradise (f). A. Thompson 9tt Ton (f), 2, 1*. D. Garrick arrowing a Husband(c),!. W.T.Moncrieff [rigand (b). G. a'Beckett ringing Home the Bride (v), 2. Moncrieff nbblei of the Day (c), 5, 1*. D. Jerrold armese War (m d), 3. J. Hamhcrst itterfly'g Ball (ex), 1*. H. R. 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Barnett Waslha (p), 3, 1*. W. H. Oxberry Watch and Ward (f). A. Wigan What's your Game (eta), 1, Is. J. Brnton Which is the King (c d), 1. W. Watts Who's a Traveller (f), 1, 1*. F. Cooper Wild Boy of Bohemia (d), 2. Wild Goose Chase (f), 2, Is. H. Jamesoa Winterbottoms (0, 1. W. T. Moncrieff Wizard Priest (d), 3. J. Walker Woman's Wit (p), 5, 2s. J. S. Knowles Wrangling Managers, prelude Wreck of the London, ballard. Heraud Young Hussar, (opta), 2 Zoroaster (m d), 2, 1*. W. T. MoncrlOT PROSCENIUM. A luost effective Proscenium can be formed l>r utilising the paper made for this purpose. Three pieces of wood are merely required, shaped according to this design, and covered with the EM DC,]- ; the proscenium having the appearance of .ght blue: puffed satin panels, in gold frames, with Shakespeare medallion in the centre. Puffed satin paper, size 20 inches by 30 inches, per -lieet, I.-. Imitation Gold Bordering, per sheet. Is., making 14 feet. Shakespearian Medallion, 18 inches in di- ameter, L!-. . These comprise three sheets of paper each, and can be had either for drawing-room or cottage purposes. Size, 7 feet by 3 feet. Price, complete, 5s. each. riDO~\^7". This is tl parlour window formed with two sheets of paper, and could be made practicable to slide up and down. The introduction of curtains each side would make it very effective. Size, 3 feet by 4| feet. Price 4s., complete. Filter TF r J TJ ' r - ACiTFi. This is also made with two sheets of paper. The tire is lighted, but should this not be required a fire-paper can be hung over it. It will be found most useful in many farces wherein a character has to climb up a chimney, and many plays where a fireplace is indispensable. !\v pnrHisi.sing a door, window, and fireplace an ordinary room scene could easily lie constructed with the addition of some wall-paper. Size 3 feet by 4% feet. Price, complete, 5s. MAKE-UP BOX Clotii Board, 15s. The new Portable 21s. Tin Case. Con L ains everything necessary for making up the face, viz. .- Rouge, Pearl Powder, Whiting, Mongolian, Ruddy Rouge, Powdered Antimony, Joining Paste, Violet Powder, Box and Putt ; Chrome, Blue, Burnt Cork, Pencils for the lids, Spirit Gum, Indian Ink, Burnt Umber, Camel Hair Brushes, Hares' Foot, Wool Crape Hair,Cold Cream, Paint Saucer, Miniature Puffs, Scissors and Looking Glass, tach article is of the best quality. Packed neatly in a Stroner Cloth- coverecl :iox, 15s. ; Elegant Tin Case, 21s. We can strongly recommend the Tin cases.' They are very durable, and any article can be used without disturbing another, a great advantage in inaking-up. The above articles to be had separately. See Catalogue, Post Free. FRENCH'S ACTING EDITION-7s, per Vol., 6d. each. VOLUME 110. 1636 Uncle's Will 1-. 1687 Fame 1638 One in the hand, &c. I6:>i> Chain of Guilt 1610 Peter liel] 1041 Little tMinshine 1642 'Insured at Lloyds l:-t:.! Demon of the Desert 1641 Dice of Death 4646 l-'alse Co ours 161ti Rose of Corbeil itf-17 The Signal 165s Tower of Lochlaine MUi' Vidocq jr;.v> "Weaver of Lyons :.ujiii in. 16.-. i Who'll lend me a Wife 'J6-VJ ]: \trei iii-s meet 16-jS Bonld Su^er Hoy 16") I t; olden 1665 Sweethearts 1050 Little Back Parlour 1H37 A.I ichor of Hope Iti"^ Home Again ii-":i -; Ivester Dajrcersvoocl IW) Tale of a Comet 1H61 Deep Red Rover (Brlsq.) 1662 Unprotected Female 166:i Under False Colours I6(U Heroes 1663 Who do they take me for VOLUME 112. !6t> T'u> Provost of Brusres IBur 1! -il Kinder of St. Paul's 166S Philanthropy I6H!) U'calc Woman I67D Velvet and Rau's 1<17) Little Vixens 107:? Ciu for Partners 1073 The Comiuir Woman ire's Alarms Telephone IG7'> An appeal to the feelings 1677 Too late to save Itn* Just my luck Ifi7! Grateful Father ltj.^0 Happy medium VOLUME 11:5. 16*1 \H's well that ends well 1G82 Poppleton's predicaments I63:'> Aukl acquaintance 16S4 Weeds i6>"> i-Q'.a survivor ION; ];n. ; wer of Preston 16S7 White pilgrim UK^ Neck or Nothing !>>! Dtmttsfs Clerk lt>: Winter's Tale ifi.tl Old rioldiera 16!2 Aly Daughter's Debut J6<:: Word of Honour ir.a-t False Step, Is. 1695 S>9 Scarlet Dick 1700 Liz 1701 St. Patrick's Day 170-2 Behind the Scene I7i>;i Wedding March 17' 4 Wild Hoy of Bohemia l70-> My wife's father's sistei 1706 His Novice 1707 Much too clever 17";> Where shall I dine 17<>9 Innkeeper's Daughter 171) Highland Fling VOLUME i.'.s. 1711 Lodgings for Single Gen- 1712 Note Forger [tleraen 17U! Bamlet Improved 17 U Our Friends, Is. 17 1." Queen of Hearts 17 10 Lady of Lyons Married 1717 Bitter Cold [and Settled 1718 Peacock's Holiday l7l!.' Daisy Farm 172c Wrinkles 1721 Lancashire Las- 1722 on an Island "!7'J3 Married in Haste 17.'4 i.). K. D. 172.3 Withered Leaves VOLUME 110. 17'JG Ruth's Romance 17_>7 Old Sailors 1723 Our I'O.vs 1729 Widow Bewitched 17:!() Pampered Menials 1731 Mysteries of Paris 1732 Lady of Lyons 1733 Memoirs of the Devil 1734 Bold Stroke for a Hns i7:!5 Noblise Oblige- j burn! 1~I6 A Lad from the Country 3737 Not False hut Fickle 17:58 Infatuation ir:;:< Davenport Bros. \- Co. 17iO Freezingaruother-in-law VOLUME J17. 17-il Ish. Jealous 174'2 Suspicions liu--.li,UHl 174:! Riiialdo Rinaldini 1744 That Dreadful Doctor 174;} Plot for Plot 1740 Our Relatives 1717 1 'avid Gsirrifk Is- 174!) My Awful Dad 175:) On Bail 17.J1 Richelieu Cobb 1 (".'} t'ousin Pinter 1754 BJW Bells I75,i Married fcr Monej' VOLUME US. 17-30 Mun About Town Miibone's Fix T v. Clatter 17,39 Daii'l Drucu 17(io Kor Her Child's Sake 1701 Poinc of Honour 1702 Unequal Match Is. 1703 Childhood'.- Dream 1704 Lo-t Diamonds .766 Broken Heart- 760 Wild Flowers 707 Match for a Moth 708 Second Thoughts 769 Two Rosi - Is. 770 First in the Field VOLUME 119. 1771 Money 1772 Adrinune Lecoavre 1773 George Geith i.'i4 Marianne the Chi 177.3 Rover's Bride [Ch 1776 Summoned to Cour 1777 Jack Long 1778 An Old Master 1779 Hrtrmonv 1780 A Bed of Ro-es 1781 Devilish Good Joke CQ -i PS ^ f^ **^ = t* Z Ti g o! C-' 2 El -3 n 1 (2 3 H o TJ O H 03 K < W O W LACY'S COSTUMES. Dramatic and Historical, Male and Female, in Thirty-four Parts of Six Plates each, beautifully coloured. :.5s. ])cr puil, plain. Complete in two Vols., handsomely bound in red, I'A r>s. ach; plair "' Lady's invaluable Books on Costume give full particulars of variety of Dramatic and Historical Costume from the period of the An Briton to the present day. " Court Journal.