The Servant in the House | Page 7

him for fifteen years!
VICAR. Whose fault is that?
AUNTIE. Why, his own, of course! He can't expect to be treated decently! [She walks up and down with anger.] It's perfectly absurd, it really is, dear, making all this fuss and trouble about a wretched--
Have you told Mary?
VICAR. No: the silent lie was comparatively easy!
AUNTIE. My dear, do try and be reasonable. Think of what he is!
VICAR. Isn't he my brother?
AUNTIE. No, he's not your brother--at least, nothing that a brother ought to be! Ridicules everything that you hold sacred! Hates everything you love! Loves everything you hate! . . .
VICAR. _That's_ true!
AUNTIE. A scoffer, an atheist, a miserable drunkard!
VICAR. That was fifteen years ago, remember, after Mary's mother died! . . .
AUNTIE. A man like that never changes! What would have become of that poor child if we hadn't stepped in? Have you ever dared to tell her what her father's like? Of course not! To-day, too, of all days! It's utterly preposterous!
VICAR. That is all the more reason why . . .
AUNTIE. My dear, think of his occupation!
VICAR. I think the child ought to be told.
AUNTIE. Of his _occupation_?
VICAR. That, and everything.
AUNTIE. My dear, have you gone perfectly mad? Do you know who's coming? Do you want to advertise his occupation to all the world?
VICAR. Do you think his brother Joshua would mind that?
AUNTIE. It isn't only your brother Joshua! You think of nobody but your brother Joshua! Some one else is coming.
VICAR. Who?
AUNTIE. My brother James! [She throws down the letter.] Now you've heard it all!
[There is a long silence. Then the VICAR speaks in a low, intense voice of bitter contempt.]
VICAR. Your brother James is coming here today? You have brought him here to help my brother Joshua! Him!
AUNTIE. Why not? He's rich! He can do it!
VICAR. So, he can recognise me at last!
AUNTIE. It was as much your fault as his, that you have never met! He naturally resented our marriage.
VICAR [ironically]. But, of course, now that I'm related to the great and wealthy Bishop of Benares ...
AUNTIE [warmly]. He's as much a bishop as your brother is!
VICAR. He! That gaitered snob!
AUNTIE. William, how dare you!
VICAR. Yes, he's a bishop! A bishop of stocks and shares! A bishop of the counting-house! A bishop of Mammon!
AUNTIE. William!
VICAR. The devil's own bishop!
AUNTIE. _At least, he isn't a WORKING-MAN_!
VICAR [as though stung]. Ah! . . .
[They stand below the table, one on either side, tense with passion. They remain so.]
[MANSON and ROGERS come in with the breakfast. ROGERS goes out immediately.]
MANSON. Sorry to have delayed, sir; but you said a quarter to nine, didn't you, sir?
VICAR. Yes.
MANSON. Breakfasts served, ma'am. It's served, sir.
[They move to the table, absently, first one, then the other, as he goes to each separately.]
[MANSON serves them in silence for a few moments.]
Beg pardon, sir: what time did you expect the Bishop of Benares?
VICAR. Oh!--During the morning, he said. That will mean the twelve-thirty, I suppose. It's the only convenient service.
MANSON. And the Bishop of Lancashire, ma'am?
AUNTIE. He didn't say; but I think we may expect him by the same train. He would scarcely think of catching the . . .
[There is heard a loud Ringing of the Bell--a bishop at the very least. All three heads turn automatically.]
Good gracious! Already!
MANSON. It doesn't sound like the Bishop of Benares, ma'am. He generally comes very quietly.
AUNTIE. Quick!
MANSON. Yes, ma'am.
[He goes out by the main door.]
AUNTIE [rapidly], William, I'm sorry! Really, I didn't mean you: I never thought of you; I was only thinking of Robert. I only think of you as a great scholar and a saint--yes, you are one!--and as the man I love! I would sacrifice everything to your happiness. Robert's nothing to me; that's why I . . . Think of what it might mean to Mary--we must think of others, William!--our own little child, as we try to imagine . . .
[The VICAR makes a gesture of anguish.]
As for James, God knows I did it for the best. I love you, my dear, I love you: I wouldn't have vexed you for the world! After all, he is my brother, William! . . . . I thought of patching up the enmity between you: I thought of all your hopes of rebuilding the church, and James was the only rich man I thought might be induced--under the circumstances . . .
VICAR. I am in the darkness. I don't know what to do. God has left me stranded.
[MANSON re-enters. They look at him inquiringly.]
MANSON. It isn't the Bishop of Benares, ma'am.
AUNTIE. Well, who is it?
MANSON. I didn't ask his name, ma'am.
AUNTIE. T-t-t! How is he dressed?
MANSON. Rather oddly, ma'am: I noticed that his legs . . .
AUNTIE. William, it's James! I can't be seen like this. Shew him in. I can slip out this