g thoughtfully by the fire.) There she is, ready to listen to me--if I could only get rid of Miss Clack! (He turns away. MISS CLACK follows him, and tenderly resumes the conversation.)
Miss Clack. I have sometimes thought, Mr. Godfrey, that your charitable business is perhaps a little too much for you. Why not employ a devoted person in the capacity of assistant? (She looks down in modest confusion.) Speaking as a true friend, I sometimes think you might find that devoted person in a wife. (GODFREY starts and looks alarmed.) She is to be found--yes, dear Mr. Godfrey (though you look as if you doubted it), the right woman--the woman worthy of you--is to be found.
Rachel (rousing herself). Godfrey, do you mind inquiring if the carriage is at the door?
Godfrey (eagerly). With the greatest pleasure! (He hurries out at the back. MISS CLACK looks after him as if he had a little disappointed her.)
Miss Clack (to herself). Politeness is certainly a virtue. Mr. Godfrey is perhaps a little too polite. (She looks at RACHEL.) Dearest Rachel, how unhappy you look!
Rachel. I look what I am. Do you know what it is to reproach yourself when reproach comes too late?
Miss Clack (aside). At last she feels the want of Me! (Looking about her.) Where is my bag? (She discovers the bag where she had placed it on entering the room, takes it, and returns to RACHEL, holding up the bag.) Here, dearest, is the remedy for all your sorrows!
Rachel. I daresay you mean well, Drusilla, but your idea of consolation is not mine. Forgive me, I shall be better if I keep quiet till the carriage comes. (She retires to a sofa at the back, and reclines on it with her face turned away on the cushion.)
Miss Clack (in confidence to herself). In all my experience, I never met with a more promising case for tracts! The one question is how to direct her attention to the inestimable blessings in this bag? She must go back to her room to put on her bonnet when the carriage comes. I know what I'll do! When she leaves that sofa, she shall find one of my precious tracts waiting for her in every part of the hall! (MISS CLACK trips softly to and fro, depositing tracts on the different articles of furniture as she names them.) A tract on her favourite chair, if she happens to look that way! Another on her work-table! Another at the fireplace! Another among the roses! And one more pinned to the curtain, to catch her eye if she goes out by the garden. (While MISS CLACK is pinning her tract on the outer side of the window curtain, so that she is hidden by it from the observation of anyone entering the room, GODFREY returns from his errand.)
Godfrey (advancing). I have been to the stables, Rachel. (He looks round him, and continues, aside.) We are alone again!
Rachel (raising herself to a sitting position). Is the carriage ready?
Godfrey. It will be ready in ten minutes. (RACHEL rises, and advances a few steps as if to return to her room to get ready. GODFREY follows, and stops her.) Dearest Rachel! (MISS CLACK, hearing him, suddenly checks herself on the point of returning to the room.)
Miss Clack (aside). "Dearest Rachel"?
Rachel (looking at GODFREY in surprise). What do you want?
Godfrey. One word with you. There is nobody to hear us. We are relieved of the everlasting presence of Miss Clack.
Miss Clack (to herself). My everlasting presence!
Godfrey (continuing). May I speak? (RACHEL understands him. Her head droops on her bosom. GODFREY leads her to her chair. She sees the tract in it, and checks herself.)
Rachel. What is that in the chair?
Godfrey (taking it up). A book of yours? (He reads the title.) "Man the Deceiver, by the author of Woman the Dupe!"
Miss Clack (to herself). How perfectly appropriate!
Godfrey (throwing the tract aside). Miss Clack and her ridiculous tracts!
Miss Clack (to herself). My ridiculous tracts!
Godfrey. Be seated, dear Rachel. Your charming kindness since I have been here has once more emboldened me to hope. Am I mad to dream of some future day when your heart may soften to me? (He places his hand on the table while he speaks, and knocks off the tract which MISS CLACK has put there. It falls on RACHEL'S lap. She takes it up.)
Rachel. Another book that doesn't belong to me? (She reads.) "Soft Soap. By a Converted Laundress."
Miss Clack (to herself). Mr. Godfrey's own language, exactly described!
Godfrey (continuing). I have lost every interest in life, Rachel, but my interest in you. My charitable business has become an unendurable nuisance to me. When I see a ladies' committee, I wish them all at the uttermost ends of the earth!
Miss Clack (to herself). The "Mothers'-Small-Clothes" a nuisance! He wishes us all at the uttermost ends of the earth! (She shakes her fist at GODFREY.) Apostate! (In her anger she has spoken the last word just loud enough for RACHEL to hear her voice, while GODFREY is still pleading with her.)
Rachel (starting). Is there somebody at the window? (GODFREY turns towards the window. MISS CLACK sees him, and instantly feigns to be entering the room, after a walk in the garden.)
Miss Clack (innocently). You can't imagine how delightful the air is in the garden! (She looks round her.) Oh, dear! Have I come in again at the wrong time? I'll go back to the garden directly!
Godfrey (with formal politeness). You will excuse me, I am sure, Miss Clack, if I own that I have something to say in confidence to Rachel.
Miss Clack (spitefully). Ah, Mr. Godfrey, I can guess what it is! You good man! You are trying to interest Rachel in that charitable business which is the delight of your life. You are bent on persuading her to join those ladies' committees to which you are so unselfishly and so devotedly attached. Forgive my innocent intrusion. Good-morning! (She goes out again on the right, angrily tearing away the tract pinned to the curtain as she passes.)
Godfrey (aside). Has she been listening? (He returns to RACHEL, who has remained absorbed in her own thoughts during the dialogue between MISS CLACK and GODFREY.) Rachel, you are not annoyed by this trifling interruption? Will you recall what I have said to you? Will you favour me, dearest, with a word of reply?
Rachel (sadly). You have made your confession, Godfrey. Would it cure you of your unhappy attachment to me if I made mine? I am the wretchedest woman living.
Godfrey. Rachel! Rachel!
Rachel. What greater wretchedness can there be than to live degraded in your own estimation? After what you have said, Godfrey, I owe it to you to speak as plainly as I can. Forget for a moment your favourable opinion of me. Suppose you were in love with some other woman?
Godfrey. Yes?
Rachel. Suppose you discovered the woman to be utterly unworthy of you--a false, shameless, degraded creature. And suppose your faithful heart still clung, in spite of you, to that first object of your love? Suppose--(She stops, despairing of herself.) Oh, how can I make a man understand that a feeling which horrifies me at myself can be a feeling which fascinates me at the same time? Godfrey, it's the breath of my life, and it's the poison that kills me--both in one! Don't ask me any more.