He is the friend of an English baronet--Sir Percival Glyde. Set a watch on Sir Percival's town house. He will be found there on his arrival in London. Shortly afterwards, he will accompany Sir Percival to Cumberland. The name under which he travels is Count Fosco." (PESCA closes the letter, and speaks.) "Fosco?" I know nobody named "Fosco." "Immensely stout?" "fond of pet animals?" I do not recognise the description. Heaven grant--when I see him--I may not recognise the man!
(He puts the letter into his pocket.)
Wal. Pesca! what are you about? Still reading your correspondence?
Pesca (rising). My correspondence? (Suddenly remembering.) Ha! the other one of my two letters! I had quite forgotten it.
Wal. Perhaps there may be better news in that?
Pesca. I shall see. (He produces the second letter, opens it, runs his eye over it, and passes instantly from the extreme of depression to the extreme of joy.) Hurray! hurray! Right-right-right-all-right!--Walter, if you were not an Englishman, I should kiss you!
Wal. Thank you, Pesca. I'll take the will for the deed. What is it now?
Pesca (joining WALTER). What is it? What did you tell me you wanted when we set out on this journey?
Wal. I wanted employment as a drawing-master.
Pesca. Good! I have got you the employment.
[13]Wal. You?
Pesca. I. I have written right and left among my pupils whom I teach. A circular letter, my friend: "Do you know anybody who wants a drawing-master? The best drawing-master in England is at my disposal. Write-write-write!" A pupil has written--the employment is found. My soul-bless-my-soul, and such an employment too! To begin next week--to live in a fine country house--to teach a young lady to sketch from nature--and all these guineas a week offered you for the whole summer. Go, my son! Your fortune is made. You teach the young lady--you fall in love with the young lady--you marry the young lady--and I, Pesca, am at the bottom of it all. Right-right-right-all-right. Hurray!
Wal. Have you done prophesying, my good friend?
Pesca. No; there is one thing I have forgotten. I am to be godfather to your first child. Now I have done.
Wal. Now you have done, may I know the young lady's name?
Pesca (referring to the letter). Miss Fairlie. Ah, what a pretty name!
Wal. Very pretty. Any other members of the family?
Pesca (as before). Miss Fairlie's uncle, who is an invalid, confined to his room. (Good! The uncle will not be in the way!) And Miss Fairlie's relative and companion, Miss Halcombe. And that is all.
Wal. When am I wanted?
Pesca. As soon as you can go. Our holiday ends tomorrow. You can go at once. I am so happy! And you too? Suppose we embrace each other?
Wal. Suppose we shake hands. (He takes PESCA'S hand.) Thank you, Pesca, with all my heart. By-the-bye, there's a last question to ask.
Pesca. Ha! What is it? (He takes out his pipe.) I shall smoke my pipe, and cool myself down in that way. (He seats himself by WALTER.)
Wal. What part of England am I to go to?
Pesca (referring to the letter which lies beside him). To Limmeridge House, Cumberland.
Wal. Cumberland? Delightful! I long to see the mountains and the lakes!
Pesca (aside). Cumberland? I wish it had been some [14]other place. Cumberland reminds me of "Count Fosco" and "Sir Percival Glyde."
(They are silent. The door of communication between the vestry and the church opens, and SIR PERCIVAL GLYDE enters the vestry, followed by MRS. CATHERICK, who stops at the door.)
Sir P. (looking round). All safe and solitary as we left it. Give me the key.
Mrs. C. Give me the money.
(They exchange the key and the bank-note.)
Sir P. Leave me.
Mrs. C. I leave you for ten minutes--not a moment more. When I return--it's understood between us--you give me back the key.
Sir P. Go! (MRS. CATHERICK withdraws, closing the door behind her. SIR PERCIVAL turns, and lays his hand on the press, reflecting.) I am lost if I make the slightest mistake. Let me have it all clear in my head at starting. What did my father's death-bed confession tell me? He and my mother--believed by everybody about them to be man and wife, at the time of my birth--were not married till three years afterwards. I have no more right to the title and estates that I have inherited than those two strangers who are sketching in the churchyard. There is my position. What am I to do to mend it? Can I get at the register of my birth? No. I was born in London. I can't tamper with the register there. My one chance is in this remote village, with the register of my parents' marriage. Now for the book! (He opens the press. The registers are all ranged neatly, side by side, with their dates on their backs.) The year of my birth was eighteen hundred and thirty-seven. The volume to look for is the volume for eighteen hundred and forty. (He picks out the volume, puts it on the top of the press, and finds the entry.) Here it is! Let the register of my birth be compared with this entry--I have had a warning already that inquiry is possible--and I am thrown, a nameless vagabond, on the mercy of the world! (He takes hold of the leaf to tear it out. At the same moment, ANNE CATHERICK appears at the arched opening, peering down at him.) Out it comes! (He tears out the leaf, and closes the volume.) Done--so [15]far! Now for the year when they ought to have been married!--when they would have been married, if my mother had not had a husband living at the time-the volume for 'thirty-six. I have only to copy this entry (he holds up the torn leaf) in the first blank space I can find--with the prepared ink that I have got here (he taps his breast-pocket)--and I breathe again freely. I set inquiry at defiance!
Anne (with a gesture of vindictive triumph). Do you!
Sir P. (looking up with a cry of rage and horror). Damnation! She has seen me!
(ANNE disappears. SIR PERCIVAL stands for the moment panic-stricken. WALTER and PESCA, in the churchyard, start, and look at each other, having heard SIR PERCIVAL'S cry. WALTER advances a step towards the vestry. PESCA follows him.)
Sir P. (wild and giddy). The blood is in my head!--the place whirls round with me! Where is the door?
(He finds his way to the door leading into the church, flings it open, and discovers MRS. CATHERICK holding ANNE a prisoner, with one hand over her mouth.)
Sir P. (beside himself, addressing MRS. CATHERICK). She has heard me! She has seen me!
Mrs. C. (with quiet resolution). Silence! Strangers in the churchyard. (ANNE struggles.) Hold her while I get my handkerchief over her mouth. (SIR PERCIVAL seizes her. ANNE turns faint; her head sinks on MRS. CATHERICK'S shoulder.) Let her be--she is harmless now--I can hold her. What is that paper? (She points to the torn leaf on the press. SIR PERCIVAL snatches it up, without answering, and crumples it into his pocket. MRS. CATHERICK continues.) Put away the book--and give me the key.
(She looks towards the press. SIR PERCIVAL puts back the volume; locks the door of the press; and gives MRS. CATHERICK the key--while WALTER and PESCA speak the words which follow.)
Wal.