Mrs. Warren’s Profession

care of yourself! But what about Praddy? Crofts Don’t know. I suppose he can sleep at the inn. Mrs. Warren Haven’t you room for him, Sam? Rev. S. Well, er⁠—you see, as rector here, I am not free to do as I like exactly. Er⁠—what is Mr. Praed’s social position? Mrs. Warren Oh, he’s all right: he’s an architect. What an old stick-in-the-mud you are, Sam! Frank Yes, it’s all right, gov’nor. He built that place down in Monmouthshire for the Duke of Beaufort⁠—Tintern Abbey they call it. You must have heard of it. He winks with lightning smartness at Mrs. Warren, and regards his father blandly. Rev. S. Oh, in that case, of course we shall only be too happy. I suppose he knows the Duke of Beaufort personally. Frank Oh, ever so intimately! We can stick him in Georgina’s old room. Mrs. Warren Well, that’s settled. Now, if those two would only come in and let us have supper. They’ve no right to stay out after dark like this. Crofts Aggressively. What harm are they doing you? Mrs. Warren Well, harm or not, I don’t like it. Frank Better not wait for them, Mrs. Warren. Praed will stay out as long as possible. He has never known before what it is to stray over the heath on a summer night with my Vivie. Crofts Sitting up in some consternation. I say, you know. Come! Rev. S. Startled out of his professional manner into real force and sincerity. Frank, once and for all, it’s out of the question. Mrs. Warren will tell you that it’s not to be thought of. Crofts Of course not. Frank With enchanting placidity. Is that so, Mrs. Warren? Mrs. Warren Reflectively. Well, Sam, I don’t know. If the girl wants to get married, no good can come of keeping her unmarried. Rev. S. Astounded. But married to him!⁠—your daughter to my son! Only think: it’s impossible. Crofts Of course it’s impossible. Don’t be a fool, Kitty. Mrs. Warren Nettled. Why not? Isn’t my daughter good enough for your son? Rev. S. But surely, my dear Mrs. Warren, you know the reason⁠— Mrs. Warren Defiantly. I know no reasons. If you know any, you can tell them to the lad, or to the girl, or to your congregation, if you like. Rev. S. Helplessly. You know very well that I couldn’t tell anyone the reasons. But my boy will believe me when I tell him there are reasons. Frank Quite right, Dad: he will. But has your boy’s conduct ever been influenced by your reasons? Crofts You can’t marry her; and that’s all about it. He gets up and stands on the hearth, with his back to the fireplace, frowning determinedly. Mrs. Warren Turning on him sharply. What have you got to do with it, pray? Frank With his prettiest lyrical cadence. Precisely what I was going to ask, myself, in my own graceful fashion. Crofts To Mrs. Warren. I suppose you don’t want to marry the girl to a man younger than herself and without either a profession or twopence to keep her on. Ask Sam, if you don’t believe me. To the Rev. S. How much more money are you going to give him? Rev. S. Not another penny. He has had his patrimony; and he spent the last of it in July. Mrs. Warren’s face falls. Crofts Watching her. There! I told you. He resumes his place on the settle and puts up his legs on the seat again, as if the matter were finally disposed of. Frank Plaintively. This is ever so mercenary. Do you suppose Miss Warren’s going to marry for money? If we love one another⁠— Mrs. Warren Thank you. Your love’s a pretty cheap commodity, my lad. If you have no means of keeping a wife, that settles it; you can’t have Vivie. Frank Much amused. What do you say, gov’nor, eh? Rev. S. I agree with Mrs. Warren. Frank And good old Crofts has already expressed his opinion. Crofts Turning angrily on his elbow. Look here: I want none of your cheek. Frank Pointedly. I’m ever so sorry to surprise you, Crofts; but you allowed yourself the liberty of speaking to me like a father a moment ago. One father is enough, thank you. Crofts Contemptuously. Yah! He turns away again. Frank Rising. Mrs. Warren: I cannot give my Vivie up even for your sake. Mrs. Warren Muttering. Young scamp! Frank

Continuing. And as you no doubt intend to hold out other prospects to her, I shall lose no time in placing my case before her. They stare at him; and he begins to declaim gracefully.

He either fears his fate too much,
Or his deserts are small,
That dares not put it to the touch,
To gain or lose it all.

The cottage doors open whilst he is reciting; and Vivie and Praed come in. He breaks off. Praed puts his hat on the dresser. There is an immediate improvement in the company’s behavior. Crofts takes down his legs from the settle and pulls himself together as Praed joins him at the fireplace. Mrs. Warren loses her ease of manner and takes refuge in querulousness. Mrs. Warren Wherever have you been, Vivie? Vivie Taking off her hat and throwing it carelessly on the table. On the hill. Mrs. Warren Well, you shouldn’t go off like that without letting me know. How could I tell what had become of you? And night coming on too! Vivie Going to the door of the kitchen and opening it, ignoring her mother. Now, about supper? We shall be rather crowded in here, I’m afraid. Mrs. Warren Did you hear what I said, Vivie? Vivie Quietly. Yes, mother. Reverting to the supper difficulty. How many are we? Counting. One, two, three, four, five, six. Well, two will have to wait until the rest are done: Mrs. Alison has only plates and knives for four.