Plays of Henley and R.L. Stevenson | Page 4

solemnly as
a true-born Brodie.
MARY. And now you are impertinent! Do you mean to go any further?
We are a fighting race, we Brodies. Oh, you may laugh, sir! But 'tis no
child's play to jest us on our Deacon, or, for that matter, on our
Deacon's chamber either. It was his father's before him: he works in it
by day and sleeps in it by night; and scarce anything it contains but is
the labour of his hands. Do you see this table, Walter? He made it while
he was yet a 'prentice. I remember how I used to sit and watch him at
his work. It would be grand, I thought, to be able to do as he did, and
handle edge-tools without cutting my fingers, and getting my ears

pulled for a meddlesome minx! He used to give me his mallet to keep
and his nails to hold; and didn't I fly when he called for them! and
wasn't I proud to be ordered about with them! And then, you know,
there is the tall cabinet yonder; that it was that proved him the first of
Edinburgh joiners, and worthy to be their Deacon and their head. And
the father's chair, and the sister's workbox, and the dear dead mother's
footstool - what are they all but proofs of the Deacon's skill, and tokens
of the Deacon's care for those about him?
LESLIE. I am all penitence. Forgive me this last time, and I promise
you I never will again.
MARY. Candidly, now, do you think you deserve forgiveness?
LESLIE. Candidly, I do not.
MARY. Then I suppose you must have it. What have you done with
Willie and my uncle?
LESLIE. I left them talking deeply. The dear old Procurator has not
much thought just now for anything but those mysterious burglaries -
MARY. I know! -
LESLIE. Still, all of him that is not magistrate and official is politician
and citizen; and he has been striving his hardest to undermine the
Deacon's principles, and win the Deacon's vote and interest.
MARY. They are worth having, are they not?
LESLIE. The Procurator seems to think that having them makes the
difference between winning and losing.
MARY. Did he say so? You may rely upon it that he knows. There are
not many in Edinburgh who can match with our Will.
LESLIE. There shall be as many as you please, and not one more.
MARY. How I should like to have heard you! What did uncle say? Did
he speak of the Town Council again? Did he tell Will what a wonderful
Bailie he would make? O why did you come away?
LESLIE. I could not pretend to listen any longer. The election is
months off yet; and if it were not - if it were tramping upstairs this
moment - drums, flags, cockades, guineas, candidates, and all! - how
should I care for it? What are Whig and Tory to me?
MARY. O fie on you! It is for every man to concern himself in the
common weal. Mr. Leslie - Leslie of the Craig! - should know that
much at least.
LESLIE. And be a politician like the Deacon? All in good time, but not

now. I hearkened while I could, and when I could no more I slipped out
and followed my heart. I hoped I should be welcome.
MARY. I suppose you mean to be unkind.
LESLIE. Tit for tat. Did you not ask me why I came away? And is it
usual for a young lady to say 'Mr.' to the man she means to marry?
MARY. That is for the young lady to decide, sir.
LESLIE. And against that judgment there shall be no appeal?
MARY. O, if you mean to argue! -
LESLIE. I do not mean to argue. I am content to love and be loved. I
think I am the happiest man in the world.
MARY. That is as it should be; for I am the happiest girl.
LESLIE. Why not say the happiest wife? I have your word, and you
have mine. Is not that enough?
MARY. Have you so soon forgotten? Did I not tell you how it must be
as my brother wills? I can do only as he bids me.
LESLIE. Then you have not spoken as you promised?
MARY. I have been too happy to speak.
LESLIE. I am his friend. Precious as you are, he will trust you to me.
He has but to know how I love you, Mary, and how your life is all in
your love of me, to give us his blessing with a full heart.
MARY. I am sure of him. It is that which makes my happiness
complete. Even to our marriage I should find it hard