PHOEBE (with a disdainful inclination of the head ). I wish you happy.
VALENTINE. With a lady who was once very like you, ma'am.
(At first PHOEBE does not understand, then a suspicion of his meaning comes to her. )
VALENTINE. I had not meant to speak of it, but why should not I? It will be a fine lesson to you, Miss Livvy. Ma'am, it is your Aunt Phoebe whom I love.
PHOEBE (rigid ). You do not mean that.
VALENTINE. Most ardently.
PHOEBE. It is not true; how dare you make sport of her.
VALENTINE. Is
it sport to wish she may be my wife?
PHOEBE. Your wife!
VALENTINE. If I could win her.
PHOEBE (bewildered ). May I solicit, sir, for how long you have been attached to Miss Phoebe?
VALENTINE. For nine years, I think.
PHOEBE. You think!
VALENTINE. I want to be honest. Never in all that time had I thought myself in love. Your aunts were my dear friends, and while I was at the wars we sometimes wrote to each other, but they were only friendly letters. I presume the affection was too placid to be love.
PHOEBE. I think that would be Aunt Phoebe's opinion.
VALENTINE. Yet I remember, before we went into action for the first time I suppose the fear of death was upon me some of them were making their wills I have no near relative I left everything to these two ladies.
PHOEBE (softly ). Did you?
(What is it that MISS PHOEBE begins to see as she sits there so quietly, with her hands pressed together as if upon some treasure? It is PHOEBE of the ringlets with the stain taken out of her. )
PHOEBE. The shock made you feel old, I know.
VALENTINE. No, Miss Livvy, but it filled me with a sudden passionate regret that I had not gone down in that first engagement. They would have been very comfortably left.
PHOEBE. Oh, sir!
VALENTINE. I am not calling it love.
PHOEBE. It was sweet and kind, but it was not love.
VALENTINE. It is love now.
PHOEBE. No, it is only pity.
VALENTINE. It is love.
PHOEBE (she smiles tremulously ). You really mean Phoebe tired, unattractive Phoebe, that woman whose girlhood is gone. Nay, impossible.
VALENTINE (stoutly ). Phoebe of the fascinating playful ways, whose ringlets were once as pretty as yours, ma'am. I have visited her in her home several times this week you were always out I thank you for that! I was alone with her, and with fragrant memories of her.
PHOEBE. Memories! Yes, that is the Phoebe you love, the bright girl of the past not the schoolmistress in her old-maid's cap.
VALENTINE. There you wrong me, for I have discovered for myself that the schoolmistress in her old-maid's cap is the noblest Miss Phoebe of them all. (If only he would go away, and let MISS PHOEBE cry. ) When I enlisted, I remember I compared her to a garden. I have often thought of that.
PHOEBE. 'Tis an old garden now.
VALENTINE. The paths, ma'am, are better shaded.
PHOEBE. The flowers have grown old-fashioned.
VALENTINE. They smell the sweeter. Miss Livvy, do you think there is any hope for me?
PHOEBE. There was a man whom Miss Phoebe loved long ago. He did not love her.
VALENTINE. Now here was a fool!
PHOEBE. He kissed her once.
VALENTINE. If Miss Phoebe suffered him to do that she thought he loved her.
PHOEBE. Yes, yes. (She has to ask him the ten years old question. ) Do you opinion that this makes her action in allowing it less reprehensible? It has been such a pain to her ever since.
VALENTINE. How like Miss Phoebe! (Sternly. ) But that man was a knave.
PHOEBE. No, he was a good man only a little inconsiderate. She knows now that he has even forgotten that he did it. I suppose men are like that?
VALENTINE. No, Miss Livvy, men are not like that. I am a very average man, but I thank God I am not like that.
PHOEBE. It was you.
VALENTINE (after a pause ). Did Miss Phoebe say that?
PHOEBE. Yes.
VALENTINE. Then it is true.
(He is very grave and quiet.)
VALENTINE. I had quite forgotten.
PHOEBE. But she remembers, and how often do you think the shameful memory has made her face wet since? The face you love, Captain Brown, you were the first to give it pain. The tired eyes how much less tired they might be if they had never known you. You who are torturing me with every word, what have you done to Miss Phoebe? You who think you can bring back the bloom to that faded garden, and all the pretty airs and graces that fluttered
round it once like little birds before the nest is torn down bring them back to her if you can, sir; it was you who took them away.
VALENTINE. I vow I shall do my best to bring them back. (MISS PHOEBE shakes her head. ) Miss Livvy, with your help
PHOEBE. My help! I have not helped. I tried to spoil it all.
VALENTINE (smiling ). To spoil it? You mean that you sought to flirt even with me. Ah, I knew you did. But that is nothing.
PHOEBE. Oh, sir, if you could overlook it.
VALENTINE. I do.
PHOEBE. And forget these hateful balls.
VALENTINE. Hateful! Nay, I shall never call them that. They have done me too great a service. It was at the balls that I fell in love with Miss Phoebe.