A Lady of England: The Life and Letters of Charlotte Maria Tucker. Agnes Giberne
Miss Ratty has hid there herself, I knows, when the dentist was here.
Col. Have you no other clue? What an extraordinary affair!
Weasel. Why, Sir—your honour, last night Mrs. Marjory overheard Miss Ratty whispering Miss Sophy, and she said, Sir. …
Col. What? speak out!
Weasel. ‘As long as the Colonel remains here the Prince must keep concealed.’
Col. [Springing up.] The Prince! ha, ha! I smell a rat! the Pretender! the Pretender! if there was ever such luck, such fortune! Hang me if I could not—but there’s not an instant to be lost. Fly, Weasel, to the village. Bid Corporal Catchup and a dozen stout fellows be with me directly. Fly, I say, and if it be all as I hope, I’ll cram you with gold till you choke. Begone! Fly! [Exit Weasel.] Thirty thousand pounds and a baronetship! Sir Stephen Stumply! Ah, if that wayward boy—the Pretender! the Pretender! he’s in a net, in a net, and I’ll be hanged if I let him out of it. [Exit.]
SCENE II.
THE DRAWING-ROOM.
Enter Horatia.
Horatia. What a sleepless night I have passed, what anxiety, what excitement! and yet how unlike is he to what I had imagined! so timid, so petulant! and that perpetual punning! It matters not, however—his title to our services remains the same! A strange misgiving is on my soul; is it the shadow of approaching danger, or only the fear of it? The Colonel gave me a strange meaning look as he passed me this morning, and said, ‘You are early up, Miss Ratty; I fear that your rest was broken last night.’ Can he suspect anything? That sneaking wretch, Weasel! Hark, I hear the Colonel’s step and a strange voice. I’ll conceal myself behind this screen. Perhaps. …
Enter Colonel Stumply and Corporal Catchup.
Col. Plant two stout fellows at the front door, and half a dozen in the garden. Place them so that there shall be no possibility of escape either from the house or the churchyard adjoining.
Cor. I will, Sir.
Horatia. [Aside.] Horror and despair!
Col. Yourself and four of your best men go and search the open vault at the right-hand corner of the churchyard, and on your lives let not your prisoner escape. Go, plant your Sentinels, and then to your business. [Exit Corporal Catchup.] I will go and superintend myself. [Exit.]
Horatia. Day of horror and misery! All is lost. All is discovered. If I but knew of one who could divert the attention of these wretches till the Prince escaped! If I …
Enter Daresby.
Daresby! He’s a Whig! but I’ll make him my tool.
Daresby. Good morning, I came thus early. …
Horatia. [Speaking very fast.] You are so welcome—you came just a moment …
Daresby. My Sophy! nothing is the matter with her?
Horatia. O no. It’s a poor soldier—got the cholera—lying in the vault …
Daresby. In a vault!
Horatia. Run, run, dearest Daresby, or you will be too late.
Daresby. What do you mean? Explain yourself.
Horatia. The cholera, I say—in the vault—O! you put me in a fever. For my sake, for Sophy’s—O run, fly!
Daresby. Whatever can you …
Horatia. Go, or I shall run wild! You know the way, go!
Daresby. If I can be of any use to the poor sufferer. [Exit.]
Horatia. O, what a relief! he’s gone! I should never survive another day of such excitement. If they once suppose that their object is gained and the Prince caught, the sentinels will be removed from the garden, and he can escape through the window. If the deception can be carried on for one half-hour he may be saved. I must go and put my sisters on their guard, and prepare the Prince for flight. If Aunt Judith or Weasel see and recognise Daresby all is lost. I wish I could lock them both up. What a labyrinth I am in! The greatest comfort is that the Colonel is a blockhead, and would not know a prince from a pancake! [Exit.]
SCENE III.
THE STORE-ROOM.
Charles. Something better than a vault this, methinks. I could not have found a hiding-place more to my mind. Excellent cherry-brandy she makes, this Mrs. Judith. I have entered half a dozen professions since I entered this room; it will be hard if I do not make my fortune out of one of them. I am an Historian, for I have been discussing old dates; a Merchant, for I add plum to plum; a Lawyer, for I have opened many a case; a Lord Mayor, for the mace is before me; and a Navigator, for I am led to seize and gulf! What if I were to stay here altogether, or set up a new company with my fair hostesses? Miss Ratty is cut out for a tragedy Queen. Such passion! such emphasis! [Mimicking.] ‘That my keen knife see not the wound it makes’—but the puzzle is that they are all ladies; not one to take a gentleman’s part. It is a shame in me to say so, for I am sure that they have taken mine. My only hope would be in Weasel. That fellow has such a desperate squint, that I am sure he would make a capital Lear!
Enter Horatia.
Horatia. Fly! fly! while yet there is a moment’s respite.
Charles. Fly! and wherefore?
Horatia. Rouse all the ancient courage of your race …
Charles. There can be no courage in a race, for a race is running away.
Horatia. Let the spirit of your Ancestors glow in your bosom, for the hour of danger is come.
Charles. ‘I dare do all that may become a man’ …
Horatia. Does this trifling become a man and a hero?
Charles. I know of but one thing, fair Ratty, that can become a man and a hero.
Horatia. What is that?
Charles. A boy, to be sure!
Horatia. Enough, enough of this perpetual play of words. We must think, we must act. Another is now taking your place at the vault …
Charles. My place! how excessively obliging!
Horatia. Every moment is invaluable. Put on this dress of my Aunt’s which I have brought for you, and fly, fly, while the deception lasts!
Charles. The brandy must have got into my head.
Horatia. Put it on, I entreat you, if not for your own or your Country’s sake, yet for your noble Father’s.
Charles. My Father’s! Either you or I … Why, what’s the matter with him? Is he in the farce too?
Horatia. [Aside.] He is the worse for liquor! O horrible! and at such a moment! [Aloud.] The soldiers are here—sent to seize you—to drag you to a dungeon, perhaps an ignominious death.
Charles. [Alarmed.] And why? what have I done?
Horatia. I heard the orders given. One hour’s delay will lead you to the scaffold.
Charles. The scaffold!
Horatia. The block.
Charles. The block! why, what is my crime? Why does not my Father come to my assistance?
Horatia. Your Father cannot—he is exiled from his native land. Were he to appear, he must perish too.
Charles. Have you hid him? have you hid him?
Horatia. [Aside.] Horridly drunk! [Aloud.] Put on this dress and fly. It is your only chance of life.
Charles. You have put me into a shiver. I cannot half believe, nor a quarter comprehend you.
Horatia.