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

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 to say 'Yes' when he said 'No.'
LESLIE. Your father is trying to speak. I'll wager he echoes you.
MARY (TO OLD BRODIE). My poor dearie! Do you want to say anything to me? No? Is it to Mr. Leslie, then?
LESLIE. I am listening, Mr. Brodie.
MARY. What is it, daddie?
OLD BRODIE. My son - the Deacon - Deacon Brodie - the first at school.
LESLIE. I know it, Mr. Brodie. Was I not the last in the same class? (TO MARY.) But he seems to have forgotten us.
MARY. O yes! his mind is wellnigh gone. He will sit for hours as you see him, and never speak nor stir but at the touch of Will's hand or the sound of Will's name.
LESLIE. It is so good to sit