Delphi Complete Works of Booth Tarkington (Illustrated), page 791
HAWCASTLE
It would ill become a father to press upon the subject of his son’s merits —
PIKE
[plaintively]
I don’t want to talk about him with you — I don’t want to hurt your feelings.
HAWCASTLE
Perhaps I might better put it on the ground of your ward’s wishes — of certain advantages of position which it is her ambition to attain.
PIKE
[troubled]
I can’t talk about it with anybody but her.
[Enter MARIANO from the hotel with a letter on a tray. Goes to PIKE.]
HAWCASTLE
There is another matter —
[PIKE stands examining envelope of the letter in profound thought.]
I fear I do not have your attention.
[MARIANO goes into the hotel.]
PIKE
[looking up]
Go ahead!
HAWCASTLE
There is another matter to which I may wish to call your attention.
PIKE
[genially]
Oh, I’ll talk about anything else with you.
HAWCASTLE
[suavely]
This is a question distinctly different
[with a glance at the hotel, his voice growing somewhat threatening]
— distinctly!
[ETHEL enters from the hotel.]
ETHEL
[to HAWCASTLE, in a troubled voice]
You wished me to come here.
HAWCASTLE
[going to her and taking her hand]
My child, I wish you to have another chat with our strangely prejudiced friend on the subject so near to all our hearts. And I wish to tell you that I see light breaking through our clouds. Even if he prove obdurate, do not be downcast — all will be well.
[Turns and goes out into the garden, his voice coming back in benign, fatherly tones.]
All will be well!
[PIKE stands regarding ETHEL, who does not look up at him.]
PIKE
[gently]
I’m glad you’ve come, Miss Ethel. I’ve got something here I want to read to you.
ETHEL
[coldly]
I did not come to hear you read.
PIKE
When I got your letter at home I wrote to Jim Cooley, our vice-consul at London, to look up the records of these Hawcastle folks and write to me here about how they stand in their own community.
ETHEL
[astounded]
What!
PIKE
What’s thought of them by the best citizens, and so on.
ETHEL
[enraged]
You had the audacity — you — to pry into the affairs of the Earl of Hawcastle!
PIKE
Why, I’d ‘a’ done that — I wouldn’t ‘a’ stopped at anything — I’d’ ‘a’ done that if it had been the Governor of Indiana himself!
ETHEL
You didn’t consider it indelicate to write to strangers about my intimate affairs?
PIKE
[placatingly]
Why, Jim Cooley’s home-folks! His office used to be right next to mine in Kokomo.
ETHEL
It’s monstrous — and when they find what you’ve done — Oh, hadn’t you shamed me enough without this?
PIKE
I expect this letter’ll show who ought to be ashamed. Now just let’s sit down here and try to work things out together.
ETHEL
[with a slight, bitter laugh]
“Work things out together!”
PIKE
I’m sorry — for you, I mean. But I don’t see any other way to do it, except — together. Won’t you?
[She moves slowly forward and sits at extreme left of the bench. He watches her, noticing how far she withdraws from him, bows his head humbly, with a sad smile, then sits, not quite at the extreme right of the bench, but near it.]
PIKE
I haven’t opened the letter yet. I want you to read it first, but I ought to tell you there’s probably things in it’ll hurt your feelings, sort of, mebbe.
ETHEL
[icily]
How?
PIKE
Well, I haven’t much of a doubt but Jim’ll have some statements in it that’ll show you I’m right about these people. If he’s got the facts, I know he will.
ETHEL
How do you know it?
PIKE
Because I’ve had experience enough of life —
ETHEL
In Kokomo?
PIKE
Yes, ma’am! there’s just as many kinds of people in Kokomo as there is in Pekin, and I didn’t serve a term in the legislature without learning to pick underhand men at sight. Now that Earl, let alone his havin’ a bad eye — his ways are altogether too much on the stripe of T. Cuthbert Bentley’s to suit me.
[He opens the envelope slowly, continuing.]
T. Cuthbert was a Chicago gentleman with a fur-lined overcoat. He opened up a bank in our town, and when he caught the Canadian express, three months later, all he left in Kokomo was the sign on the front door. That was painted on. And as for the son. But there — I don’t know as I have a call to say more.
[Takes the letter from the envelope.]
Here’s the letter; read it for yourself.
[Gives it to her, watching her as she reads.]
ETHEL
[reading]
“Dear Dan: The Earldom of Hawcastle is one of the oldest in the Kingdom, and the St. Aubyns have distinguished themselves in the forefront of English battles from Agincourt and Crecy to Sebastopol.
[She reads this in a ringing voice and glances at him.]
[PIKE looks puzzled and depressed.]
“The present holder of the title came into it unexpectedly through a series of accidental deaths. He was a younger son’s younger son, and had spent some years in Russia in business — what, I do not know — under another name. I suppose he assumed it that the historic name of St. Aubyn might not be tarnished by association with trade. He has spent so much of his life out of England that it is difficult to find out a great deal about him. Nothing here in his English record is seriously against him; though everything he has is mortgaged over its value, the entail having been broken.
[ETHEL pauses and looks at PIKE, who, much disturbed, rises, and crosses the stage.]
“As to his son, the Honorable Almeric, there’s no objection alleged against his character. That’s all I’ve been able to learn.”
[She finishes with an air of triumphant finality, and rises with a laugh.]
A terrible indictment! So that was what you counted on to convince me of my mistake?
PIKE
[distressed]
Yes — it was!
ETHEL
Do you assert there is one word in this seriously discreditable to the reputation of Lord Hawcastle or Mr. St. Aubyn?
PIKE
[humbly]
No.
ETHEL
And you remember, it is the testimony offered by your own friend
[scornfully]
— by your own detective!
PIKE
[ruefully]
Oh, if I wanted a detective I wouldn’t get Jim Cooley — at least, not any more!
[His attitude is thoroughly crestfallen.]
ETHEL
[triumphantly, almost graciously]
I shall tell Lord Hawcastle that you will be ready to take up the matter of the settlement the moment his solicitor arrives.
PIKE
No, I wouldn’t do that.
ETHEL
[in a challenging voice]
Why not?
PIKE
[doggedly]
Because I won’t take up the matter of settlements with him or any one else.
ETHEL
[angrily]
Do you mean you cannot see what a humiliation your interference has brought upon you in this?
PIKE
No; I see that plain enough.
ETHEL
Have you, after this, any further objections to my alliance with Mr. St. Aubyn?
PIKE
It ain’t an alliance with Mr. St. Aubyn that you’re after.
ETHEL
Then what am I
[pauses and lays scornful emphasis on the next word]
after?
PIKE
[slowly]
You’re after something there isn’t anything to. If I’d let you buy what you want to with your money and your whole life, you’d find it as empty as the morning after Judgment Day.
[She turns from him, smiling and superior.]
You think because I’m a jay country lawyer I don’t understand it and couldn’t understand you! Why, we’ve got just the same thing at home. There was little Annie Hoffmeyer. Her pa was a carpenter and doing well. But Annie couldn’t get into the Kokomo Ladies’ Literary Club, and her name didn’t show up in the society column four or five times every Saturday morning, so she got her pa to give her the money to marry Artie Seymour, the minister’s son — and a regular minister’s son he was! Almost broke Hoffmeyer’s heart, but he let her have her way and went in debt and bought them a little house on North Main Street. That was two years ago. Annie’s workin’ at the depoe candy-stand now and Artie’s workin’ at the hotel bar — in front — drinking up what’s left of old Hoffmeyer’s — settlement!
ETHEL
[outraged]
And you say you understand — you who couple the name of a tippling yokel with that of a St. Aubyn — a gentleman of distinction.
PIKE
Distinction? I didn’t know he was distinguished.
ETHEL
[in a ringing voice]
His ancestors have fought with glory on every field of battle from Crecy and Agincourt to the Crimea.
PIKE
But you won’t see much of his ancestors.
ETHEL
He bears their name.
PIKE
[with authority and dignity]
Yes — and it’s the name you want. Nobody could look at you and not know it wasn’t him. It’s the name! And I’d let you buy it if it would make you happy — if you didn’t have to take the people with it.
[A deepening of color in the light shows that it has grown to be late afternoon, near sunset.]
ETHEL
[angrily]
The “people”?
PIKE
Yes; the whole gang. Can’t you see how they’re counting on it? It’s in their faces, in their ways! This Earl — don’t you see he’s counting on living on you? Do you think the son would get that settlement? Why, a Terre Hut pickpocket could get it away from him — let alone his old man! What do you think would become of the “settlement”?
ETHEL
Part of it would go to the restoration of Hawcastle Hall and part to Glenwood Priory.
PIKE
Glenwood Priory?
ETHEL
That is part of the estate where Almeric and I will live until Lord Hawcastle’s death.
PIKE
Then mighty little settlement would come around “Glenwood Priory”!
[Speaks the name as though grimly amused, and continues.]
And this old lady — this Mrs. Creech you been travelling with —
ETHEL
[sharply]
Lady Creech!
PIKE
All right! Don’t you think she’s counting on it? And this French lady that’s with them; isn’t she trying to land your brother? The whole crowd is on the track of John Simpson’s money.
ETHEL
Silence! You have no right to traduce them. Do you place no value upon heredity, upon high birth?
PIKE
Why, I think so much of it that I know John Simpson’s daughter doesn’t need anybody else’s to help her out.
[He comes toward her, looking at her with honest admiration.]
She’s fine enough and I think she’s sweet enough — and I know from the way she goes for me that she’s brave enough — to stand on her own feet!
ETHEL
This is beside the point; I know exactly what I want in life —
[she has been somewhat moved by his last speech, is agitated, and a little breathless]
— and I could not change now if it were otherwise. I gave Almeric my promise, it was forever, and I shall keep it.
PIKE
But you can’t; I’m not going to let you.
ETHEL
I throw your interference to the winds. I shall absolutely disregard it. I shall marry without your consent.
PIKE
[looking at her steadily]
Do you think they’d let you?
ETHEL
[in same tone]
I think you’ll let me,
[laughing]
especially after this terrible letter.
PIKE
By-the-way, did you finish it?
[ETHEL looks at the letter, which she has continued to hold in her hand.]
ETHEL
I think so.
[Turns the page.]
No — it says “over.”
[She turns the sheet — looks at it attentively for a moment — looks up, casts a quick glance of astonishment at PIKE.]
PIKE
Well, read it, please!
ETHEL
It appears to concern a matter quite personal to yourself.
[Embarrassed, assuming carelessness. Turns toward left as if to leave, replacing the letter in the envelope.]
PIKE
[advancing to her, smiling]
I don’t think I’ve got any secrets.
ETHEL
[coldly]
Please remember, I have not read anything on the last page.
PIKE
Well, neither have I.
[Reaching his hand for the letter.]
ETHEL
[more embarrassed]
Oh!
[She drops the letter on the bench.]
[PIKE picks it up and walks slowly toward right, taking it from envelope. She stands looking after him with breathless amazement, far from hostile, yet half turned as if to go at once. PIKE, taking the letter out of the envelope, suddenly looks back at her. At this she is flustered and starts, but halts at sound of the “Fishermen’s Song” in the distance. The sunset is deepening to golden red; the “Fishermen’s Song” begins with mandolins and guitars, and then a number of voices are heard together.]
ETHEL
Listen: those are the fishermen coming home.
[PIKE stands in arrested attitude, not having looked at the letter. The song, beginning faintly, grows louder, then slowly dies away in the distance. The two stand listening in deepening twilight.]
PIKE
[as the voices cease to be heard]
It’s mighty pretty, but it’s kind of foreign and lonesome, too.
[With a sad half-chuckle.]
I’d rather hear something that sounded more like home.
[A growing tremulousness in his voice.]
I expect you’ve about forgot everything like that, haven’t you?
ETHEL
[gently]
Yes.
PIKE
Seems funny, now; but out on the ocean, coming here, I kept kind of looking forward to hearing you sing. I knew how high your pa had you educated in music, and, like the old fool I was, I kept thinking you’d sing for me some evening— “Sweet Genevieve” mebbe. You know it — don’t you?
ETHEL
[slowly]
“Sweet Genevieve?” I used to — but it’s rather old-fashioned and common, isn’t it?
PIKE
I expect so; I reckon mebbe that’s the reason I like it so much.
[With an apologetic and pathetic laugh.]
Yes’m, it’s my favorite. I couldn’t — I couldn’t get you to sing it for me before I go back home — could I?
ETHEL
I — I think not.
[She looks at him thoughtfully, then goes slowly into the hotel.]
[PIKE sighs, and begins to read the last page of the letter.]
PIKE
[reading]
“I am sorry old man Simpson’s daughter thinks of buying a title. Somehow I have a notion that that may hit you, Dan.
[Poignant dismay and awe are expressed in his voice as he continues.]
“I haven’t forgotten how you always kept that picture of her on your desk. The old man thought so much of you I had an idea he hoped she’d come back some day and marry a man from home.”
I don’t wonder she said she hadn’t read it!
[His face begins to light with radiant amazement.]
But she had — and she didn’t go away — that is, not right away!
[LORD HAWCASTLE and HORACE enter from the hotel.]
HORACE
[speaking as they enter]
But, Lord Hawcastle, Ethel says Mr. Pike positively refuses.
HAWCASTLE
Leave him to me. Within ten minutes he will be as meek as a nun.
[HORACE goes into the hotel.]
My dear Pike, there is a certain question —
PIKE
[in his mildest tone]
I don’t want to seem rough with you, but I meant what I said.
HAWCASTLE
Imagining I did not mean that question —
PIKE
Then it’s all right.
HAWCASTLE
Late this afternoon I developed a great anxiety concerning the penalty prescribed by Italian law for those unfortunate and impulsive individuals who connive at the escape or concealment —
[he speaks with significant emphasis and a glance at the hotel, where lights begin to appear in the windows]
— of certain other unfortunates who may be, to speak vulgarly, wanted — by the police.
PIKE
[coolly]
You’re anxious about that, are you?
HAWCASTLE
So deeply that I ascertained the penalty for it. You may confirm my information by appealing to the nearest carabiniere — strange to say, many of them are very near. The minimum penalty for one whose kind heart has thus betrayed him —
[he turns up sharply toward the lighted windows of hotel, then sharply again to PIKE, his voice lifting]
— is two years’ imprisonment, and Italian prisons, I am credibly informed, are quite ferociously unpleasant.
PIKE
[gently]
Well, being in jail any place ain’t much like an Elks’ carnival.
HAWCASTLE
There would be no escape, even for a citizen of your admirable country, if his complicity were established, especially if he happened to be — as it were — caught in the act!
It would ill become a father to press upon the subject of his son’s merits —
PIKE
[plaintively]
I don’t want to talk about him with you — I don’t want to hurt your feelings.
HAWCASTLE
Perhaps I might better put it on the ground of your ward’s wishes — of certain advantages of position which it is her ambition to attain.
PIKE
[troubled]
I can’t talk about it with anybody but her.
[Enter MARIANO from the hotel with a letter on a tray. Goes to PIKE.]
HAWCASTLE
There is another matter —
[PIKE stands examining envelope of the letter in profound thought.]
I fear I do not have your attention.
[MARIANO goes into the hotel.]
PIKE
[looking up]
Go ahead!
HAWCASTLE
There is another matter to which I may wish to call your attention.
PIKE
[genially]
Oh, I’ll talk about anything else with you.
HAWCASTLE
[suavely]
This is a question distinctly different
[with a glance at the hotel, his voice growing somewhat threatening]
— distinctly!
[ETHEL enters from the hotel.]
ETHEL
[to HAWCASTLE, in a troubled voice]
You wished me to come here.
HAWCASTLE
[going to her and taking her hand]
My child, I wish you to have another chat with our strangely prejudiced friend on the subject so near to all our hearts. And I wish to tell you that I see light breaking through our clouds. Even if he prove obdurate, do not be downcast — all will be well.
[Turns and goes out into the garden, his voice coming back in benign, fatherly tones.]
All will be well!
[PIKE stands regarding ETHEL, who does not look up at him.]
PIKE
[gently]
I’m glad you’ve come, Miss Ethel. I’ve got something here I want to read to you.
ETHEL
[coldly]
I did not come to hear you read.
PIKE
When I got your letter at home I wrote to Jim Cooley, our vice-consul at London, to look up the records of these Hawcastle folks and write to me here about how they stand in their own community.
ETHEL
[astounded]
What!
PIKE
What’s thought of them by the best citizens, and so on.
ETHEL
[enraged]
You had the audacity — you — to pry into the affairs of the Earl of Hawcastle!
PIKE
Why, I’d ‘a’ done that — I wouldn’t ‘a’ stopped at anything — I’d’ ‘a’ done that if it had been the Governor of Indiana himself!
ETHEL
You didn’t consider it indelicate to write to strangers about my intimate affairs?
PIKE
[placatingly]
Why, Jim Cooley’s home-folks! His office used to be right next to mine in Kokomo.
ETHEL
It’s monstrous — and when they find what you’ve done — Oh, hadn’t you shamed me enough without this?
PIKE
I expect this letter’ll show who ought to be ashamed. Now just let’s sit down here and try to work things out together.
ETHEL
[with a slight, bitter laugh]
“Work things out together!”
PIKE
I’m sorry — for you, I mean. But I don’t see any other way to do it, except — together. Won’t you?
[She moves slowly forward and sits at extreme left of the bench. He watches her, noticing how far she withdraws from him, bows his head humbly, with a sad smile, then sits, not quite at the extreme right of the bench, but near it.]
PIKE
I haven’t opened the letter yet. I want you to read it first, but I ought to tell you there’s probably things in it’ll hurt your feelings, sort of, mebbe.
ETHEL
[icily]
How?
PIKE
Well, I haven’t much of a doubt but Jim’ll have some statements in it that’ll show you I’m right about these people. If he’s got the facts, I know he will.
ETHEL
How do you know it?
PIKE
Because I’ve had experience enough of life —
ETHEL
In Kokomo?
PIKE
Yes, ma’am! there’s just as many kinds of people in Kokomo as there is in Pekin, and I didn’t serve a term in the legislature without learning to pick underhand men at sight. Now that Earl, let alone his havin’ a bad eye — his ways are altogether too much on the stripe of T. Cuthbert Bentley’s to suit me.
[He opens the envelope slowly, continuing.]
T. Cuthbert was a Chicago gentleman with a fur-lined overcoat. He opened up a bank in our town, and when he caught the Canadian express, three months later, all he left in Kokomo was the sign on the front door. That was painted on. And as for the son. But there — I don’t know as I have a call to say more.
[Takes the letter from the envelope.]
Here’s the letter; read it for yourself.
[Gives it to her, watching her as she reads.]
ETHEL
[reading]
“Dear Dan: The Earldom of Hawcastle is one of the oldest in the Kingdom, and the St. Aubyns have distinguished themselves in the forefront of English battles from Agincourt and Crecy to Sebastopol.
[She reads this in a ringing voice and glances at him.]
[PIKE looks puzzled and depressed.]
“The present holder of the title came into it unexpectedly through a series of accidental deaths. He was a younger son’s younger son, and had spent some years in Russia in business — what, I do not know — under another name. I suppose he assumed it that the historic name of St. Aubyn might not be tarnished by association with trade. He has spent so much of his life out of England that it is difficult to find out a great deal about him. Nothing here in his English record is seriously against him; though everything he has is mortgaged over its value, the entail having been broken.
[ETHEL pauses and looks at PIKE, who, much disturbed, rises, and crosses the stage.]
“As to his son, the Honorable Almeric, there’s no objection alleged against his character. That’s all I’ve been able to learn.”
[She finishes with an air of triumphant finality, and rises with a laugh.]
A terrible indictment! So that was what you counted on to convince me of my mistake?
PIKE
[distressed]
Yes — it was!
ETHEL
Do you assert there is one word in this seriously discreditable to the reputation of Lord Hawcastle or Mr. St. Aubyn?
PIKE
[humbly]
No.
ETHEL
And you remember, it is the testimony offered by your own friend
[scornfully]
— by your own detective!
PIKE
[ruefully]
Oh, if I wanted a detective I wouldn’t get Jim Cooley — at least, not any more!
[His attitude is thoroughly crestfallen.]
ETHEL
[triumphantly, almost graciously]
I shall tell Lord Hawcastle that you will be ready to take up the matter of the settlement the moment his solicitor arrives.
PIKE
No, I wouldn’t do that.
ETHEL
[in a challenging voice]
Why not?
PIKE
[doggedly]
Because I won’t take up the matter of settlements with him or any one else.
ETHEL
[angrily]
Do you mean you cannot see what a humiliation your interference has brought upon you in this?
PIKE
No; I see that plain enough.
ETHEL
Have you, after this, any further objections to my alliance with Mr. St. Aubyn?
PIKE
It ain’t an alliance with Mr. St. Aubyn that you’re after.
ETHEL
Then what am I
[pauses and lays scornful emphasis on the next word]
after?
PIKE
[slowly]
You’re after something there isn’t anything to. If I’d let you buy what you want to with your money and your whole life, you’d find it as empty as the morning after Judgment Day.
[She turns from him, smiling and superior.]
You think because I’m a jay country lawyer I don’t understand it and couldn’t understand you! Why, we’ve got just the same thing at home. There was little Annie Hoffmeyer. Her pa was a carpenter and doing well. But Annie couldn’t get into the Kokomo Ladies’ Literary Club, and her name didn’t show up in the society column four or five times every Saturday morning, so she got her pa to give her the money to marry Artie Seymour, the minister’s son — and a regular minister’s son he was! Almost broke Hoffmeyer’s heart, but he let her have her way and went in debt and bought them a little house on North Main Street. That was two years ago. Annie’s workin’ at the depoe candy-stand now and Artie’s workin’ at the hotel bar — in front — drinking up what’s left of old Hoffmeyer’s — settlement!
ETHEL
[outraged]
And you say you understand — you who couple the name of a tippling yokel with that of a St. Aubyn — a gentleman of distinction.
PIKE
Distinction? I didn’t know he was distinguished.
ETHEL
[in a ringing voice]
His ancestors have fought with glory on every field of battle from Crecy and Agincourt to the Crimea.
PIKE
But you won’t see much of his ancestors.
ETHEL
He bears their name.
PIKE
[with authority and dignity]
Yes — and it’s the name you want. Nobody could look at you and not know it wasn’t him. It’s the name! And I’d let you buy it if it would make you happy — if you didn’t have to take the people with it.
[A deepening of color in the light shows that it has grown to be late afternoon, near sunset.]
ETHEL
[angrily]
The “people”?
PIKE
Yes; the whole gang. Can’t you see how they’re counting on it? It’s in their faces, in their ways! This Earl — don’t you see he’s counting on living on you? Do you think the son would get that settlement? Why, a Terre Hut pickpocket could get it away from him — let alone his old man! What do you think would become of the “settlement”?
ETHEL
Part of it would go to the restoration of Hawcastle Hall and part to Glenwood Priory.
PIKE
Glenwood Priory?
ETHEL
That is part of the estate where Almeric and I will live until Lord Hawcastle’s death.
PIKE
Then mighty little settlement would come around “Glenwood Priory”!
[Speaks the name as though grimly amused, and continues.]
And this old lady — this Mrs. Creech you been travelling with —
ETHEL
[sharply]
Lady Creech!
PIKE
All right! Don’t you think she’s counting on it? And this French lady that’s with them; isn’t she trying to land your brother? The whole crowd is on the track of John Simpson’s money.
ETHEL
Silence! You have no right to traduce them. Do you place no value upon heredity, upon high birth?
PIKE
Why, I think so much of it that I know John Simpson’s daughter doesn’t need anybody else’s to help her out.
[He comes toward her, looking at her with honest admiration.]
She’s fine enough and I think she’s sweet enough — and I know from the way she goes for me that she’s brave enough — to stand on her own feet!
ETHEL
This is beside the point; I know exactly what I want in life —
[she has been somewhat moved by his last speech, is agitated, and a little breathless]
— and I could not change now if it were otherwise. I gave Almeric my promise, it was forever, and I shall keep it.
PIKE
But you can’t; I’m not going to let you.
ETHEL
I throw your interference to the winds. I shall absolutely disregard it. I shall marry without your consent.
PIKE
[looking at her steadily]
Do you think they’d let you?
ETHEL
[in same tone]
I think you’ll let me,
[laughing]
especially after this terrible letter.
PIKE
By-the-way, did you finish it?
[ETHEL looks at the letter, which she has continued to hold in her hand.]
ETHEL
I think so.
[Turns the page.]
No — it says “over.”
[She turns the sheet — looks at it attentively for a moment — looks up, casts a quick glance of astonishment at PIKE.]
PIKE
Well, read it, please!
ETHEL
It appears to concern a matter quite personal to yourself.
[Embarrassed, assuming carelessness. Turns toward left as if to leave, replacing the letter in the envelope.]
PIKE
[advancing to her, smiling]
I don’t think I’ve got any secrets.
ETHEL
[coldly]
Please remember, I have not read anything on the last page.
PIKE
Well, neither have I.
[Reaching his hand for the letter.]
ETHEL
[more embarrassed]
Oh!
[She drops the letter on the bench.]
[PIKE picks it up and walks slowly toward right, taking it from envelope. She stands looking after him with breathless amazement, far from hostile, yet half turned as if to go at once. PIKE, taking the letter out of the envelope, suddenly looks back at her. At this she is flustered and starts, but halts at sound of the “Fishermen’s Song” in the distance. The sunset is deepening to golden red; the “Fishermen’s Song” begins with mandolins and guitars, and then a number of voices are heard together.]
ETHEL
Listen: those are the fishermen coming home.
[PIKE stands in arrested attitude, not having looked at the letter. The song, beginning faintly, grows louder, then slowly dies away in the distance. The two stand listening in deepening twilight.]
PIKE
[as the voices cease to be heard]
It’s mighty pretty, but it’s kind of foreign and lonesome, too.
[With a sad half-chuckle.]
I’d rather hear something that sounded more like home.
[A growing tremulousness in his voice.]
I expect you’ve about forgot everything like that, haven’t you?
ETHEL
[gently]
Yes.
PIKE
Seems funny, now; but out on the ocean, coming here, I kept kind of looking forward to hearing you sing. I knew how high your pa had you educated in music, and, like the old fool I was, I kept thinking you’d sing for me some evening— “Sweet Genevieve” mebbe. You know it — don’t you?
ETHEL
[slowly]
“Sweet Genevieve?” I used to — but it’s rather old-fashioned and common, isn’t it?
PIKE
I expect so; I reckon mebbe that’s the reason I like it so much.
[With an apologetic and pathetic laugh.]
Yes’m, it’s my favorite. I couldn’t — I couldn’t get you to sing it for me before I go back home — could I?
ETHEL
I — I think not.
[She looks at him thoughtfully, then goes slowly into the hotel.]
[PIKE sighs, and begins to read the last page of the letter.]
PIKE
[reading]
“I am sorry old man Simpson’s daughter thinks of buying a title. Somehow I have a notion that that may hit you, Dan.
[Poignant dismay and awe are expressed in his voice as he continues.]
“I haven’t forgotten how you always kept that picture of her on your desk. The old man thought so much of you I had an idea he hoped she’d come back some day and marry a man from home.”
I don’t wonder she said she hadn’t read it!
[His face begins to light with radiant amazement.]
But she had — and she didn’t go away — that is, not right away!
[LORD HAWCASTLE and HORACE enter from the hotel.]
HORACE
[speaking as they enter]
But, Lord Hawcastle, Ethel says Mr. Pike positively refuses.
HAWCASTLE
Leave him to me. Within ten minutes he will be as meek as a nun.
[HORACE goes into the hotel.]
My dear Pike, there is a certain question —
PIKE
[in his mildest tone]
I don’t want to seem rough with you, but I meant what I said.
HAWCASTLE
Imagining I did not mean that question —
PIKE
Then it’s all right.
HAWCASTLE
Late this afternoon I developed a great anxiety concerning the penalty prescribed by Italian law for those unfortunate and impulsive individuals who connive at the escape or concealment —
[he speaks with significant emphasis and a glance at the hotel, where lights begin to appear in the windows]
— of certain other unfortunates who may be, to speak vulgarly, wanted — by the police.
PIKE
[coolly]
You’re anxious about that, are you?
HAWCASTLE
So deeply that I ascertained the penalty for it. You may confirm my information by appealing to the nearest carabiniere — strange to say, many of them are very near. The minimum penalty for one whose kind heart has thus betrayed him —
[he turns up sharply toward the lighted windows of hotel, then sharply again to PIKE, his voice lifting]
— is two years’ imprisonment, and Italian prisons, I am credibly informed, are quite ferociously unpleasant.
PIKE
[gently]
Well, being in jail any place ain’t much like an Elks’ carnival.
HAWCASTLE
There would be no escape, even for a citizen of your admirable country, if his complicity were established, especially if he happened to be — as it were — caught in the act!
