PHOEBE. That paragon who has never been guilty of the slightest deviation from the strictest propriety.
VALENTINE. Never.
PHOEBE. That garden----
VALENTINE. Miss Livvy, for shame.
PHOEBE. Your garden has been destroyed, sir; the weeds have entered it, and all the flowers are choked.
VALENTINE. You false woman, what do you mean?
PHOEBE. I will tell you. (_But his confidence awes her._) What faith you have in her.
VALENTINE. As in my G.o.d. Speak.
PHOEBE. I cannot tell you.
VALENTINE. No, you cannot.
PHOEBE. It is too horrible.
VALENTINE. You are too horrible. Is not that it?
PHOEBE. Yes, that is it.
(MISS SUSAN _has entered and caught the last words._)
MISS SUSAN (_shrinking as from a coming blow_). What is too horrible?
VALENTINE. Ma"am, I leave the telling of it to her, if she dare. And I devoutly hope those are the last words I shall ever address to this lady.
(_He bows and goes out in dudgeon_. MISS SUSAN _believes all is discovered and that_ MISS PHOEBE _is for ever shamed._)
MISS SUSAN (_taking_ PHOEBE _in her arms_). My love, my dear, what terrible thing has he said to you?
PHOEBE (_forgetting everything but that she is loved_). Not terrible--glorious! Susan, "tis Phoebe he loves, "tis me, not Livvy!
He loves me, he loves me! Me--Phoebe!
(MISS SUSAN"S _bosom swells. It is her great hour as much as_ PHOEBE"S.)
_End of Act III._
ACT IV
THE BLUE AND WHITE ROOM
_If we could shut our eyes to the two sisters sitting here in woe, this would be, to the male eye at least, the identical blue and white room of ten years ago; the same sun shining into it and playing familiarly with Miss Susan"s treasures. But the ladies are changed. It is not merely that Miss Phoebe has again donned her schoolmistress"s gown and hidden her curls under the cap. To see her thus once more, her real self, after the escapade of the ball, is not unpleasant, and the cap and gown do not ill become the quiet room. But she now turns guiltily from the sun that used to be her intimate, her face is drawn, her form condensed into the smallest s.p.a.ce, and her hands lie trembling in her lap. It is disquieting to note that any life there is in the room comes not from her but from Miss Susan. If the house were to go on fire now it would be she who would have to carry out Miss Phoebe._
_Whatever of import has happened since the ball, Patty knows it, and is enjoying it. We see this as she ushers in Miss Willoughby. Note also, with concern, that at mention of the visitor"s name the eyes of the sisters turn affrightedly, not to the door by which their old friend enters, but to the closed door of the spare bed-chamber. Patty also gives it a meaning glance; then the three look at each other, and two of them blanch._
MISS WILLOUGHBY (_the fourth to look at the door_). I am just run across, Susan, to inquire how Miss Livvy does now.
MISS SUSAN. She is still very poorly, Mary.
MISS WILLOUGHBY. I am so unhappy of that. I conceive it to be a nervous disorder?
MISS SUSAN (_almost too glibly_). Accompanied by trembling, flutterings, and spasms.
MISS WILLOUGHBY. The excitements of the ball. You have summoned the apothecary at last, I trust, Phoebe?
(MISS PHOEBE, _once so ready of defence, can say nothing._)
MISS SUSAN (_to the rescue_). It is Livvy"s own wish that he should not be consulted.
Miss WILLOUGHBY (_looking longingly at the door_). May I go in to see her?
MISS SUSAN. I fear not, Mary. She is almost asleep, and it is best not to disturb her. (_Peeping into the bedroom._) Lie quite still, Livvy, my love, quite still.
(_Somehow this makes_ PATTY _smile so broadly that she finds it advisable to retire_. MISS WILLOUGHBY _sighs, and produces a small bowl from the folds of her cloak._)
Miss WILLOUGHBY. This is a little arrowroot, of which I hope Miss Livvy will be so obliging as to partake.
MISS SUSAN (_taking the bowl_). I thank you, Mary.
PHOEBE (_ashamed_). Susan, we ought not----
MISS SUSAN (_shameless_). I will take it to her while it is still warm.
(_She goes into the bedroom_. MISS WILLOUGHBY _gazes at_ MISS PHOEBE, _who certainly shrinks. It has not escaped the notice of the visitor that_ MISS PHOEBE _has become the more timid of the sisters, and she has evolved an explanation._)
MISS WILLOUGHBY. Phoebe, has Captain Brown been apprised of Miss Livvy"s illness?
PHOEBE (_uncomfortably_). I think not, Miss Willoughby.
MISS WILLOUGHBY (_sorry for_ PHOEBE, _and speaking very kindly_). Is this right, Phoebe? You informed f.a.n.n.y and Henrietta at the ball of his partiality for Livvy. My dear, it is hard for you, but have you any right to keep them apart?
PHOEBE (_discovering only now what are the suspicions of her friends_).
Is that what you think I am doing, Miss Willoughby?
MISS WILLOUGHBY. Such a mysterious illness. (_Sweetly_) Long ago, Phoebe, I once caused much unhappiness through foolish jealousy. That is why I venture to hope that you will not be as I was, my dear.
PHOEBE. I jealous of Livvy!