Getting Married

you. Who am I that I should rebuke you? Besides, I know there are discussions in which the poker is the only possible argument. Mrs. George My lord: be earnest with me. I’m a very funny woman, I daresay; but I come from the same workshop as you. I heard you say that yourself years ago. The Bishop Quite so; but then I’m a very funny Bishop. Since we are both funny people, let us not forget that humor is a divine attribute. Mrs. George I know nothing about divine attributes or whatever you call them; but I can feel when I am being belittled. It was from you that I learnt first to respect myself. It was through you that I came to be able to walk safely through many wild and wilful paths. Don’t go back on your own teaching. The Bishop I’m not a teacher: only a fellow traveller of whom you asked the way. I pointed ahead⁠—ahead of myself as well as of you. Mrs. George Rising and standing over him almost threateningly. As I’m a living woman this day, if I find you out to be a fraud, I’ll kill myself. The Bishop What! Kill yourself for finding out something! For becoming a wiser and therefore a better woman! What a bad reason! Mrs. George I have sometimes thought of killing you, and then killing myself. The Bishop Why on earth should you kill yourself⁠—not to mention me? Mrs. George So that we might keep our assignation in Heaven. The Bishop Rising and facing her, breathless. Mrs. Collins! You are Incognita Appassionata! Mrs. George You read my letters, then? With a sigh of grateful relief, she sits down quietly, and says, Thank you. The Bishop Remorsefully. And I have broken the spell by making you come here. Sitting down again. Can you ever forgive me? Mrs. George You couldn’t know that it was only the coal merchant’s wife, could you? The Bishop Why do you say only the coal merchant’s wife? Mrs. George Many people would laugh at it. The Bishop Poor people! It’s so hard to know the right place to laugh, isn’t it? Mrs. George I didn’t mean to make you think the letters were from a fine lady. I wrote on cheap paper; and I never could spell. The Bishop Neither could I. So that told me nothing. Mrs. George One thing I should like you to know. The Bishop Yes? Mrs. George We didn’t cheat your friend. They were as good as we could do at thirteen shillings a ton. The Bishop That’s important. Thank you for telling me. Mrs. George I have something else to say; but will you please ask somebody to come and stay here while we talk? He rises and turns to the study door. Not a woman, if you don’t mind. He nods understandingly and passes on. Not a man either. The Bishop Stopping. Not a man and not a woman! We have no children left, Mrs. Collins. They are all grown up and married. Mrs. George That other clergyman would do. The Bishop What! The sexton? Mrs. George Yes. He didn’t mind my calling him that, did he? It was only my ignorance. The Bishop Not at all. He opens the study door and calls, Soames! Anthony! To Mrs. George. Call him Father: he likes it. Soames appears at the study door. Mrs. Collins wishes you to join us, Anthony. Soames looks puzzled. Mrs. George You don’t mind, Dad, do you? As this greeting visibly gives him a shock that hardly bears out the Bishop’s advice, she says anxiously, That was what you told me to call him, wasn’t it? Soames I am called Father Anthony, Mrs. Collins. But it does not matter what you call me. He comes in, and walks past her to the hearth. The Bishop Mrs. Collins has something to say to me that she wants you to hear. Soames I am listening. The Bishop Going back to his seat next her. Now. Mrs. George My lord: you should never have married. Soames This woman is inspired. Listen to her, my lord. The Bishop Taken aback by the directness of the attack. I married because I was so much in love with Alice that all the difficulties and doubts and dangers of marriage seemed to me the merest moonshine. Mrs. George Yes: it’s mean to let poor things in for so much while they’re in that state. Would you marry now that you know better if you were a widower? The Bishop I’m old now. It wouldn’t matter. Mrs. George But would you if it did matter? The Bishop I think I should marry again lest anyone should imagine I had found marriage unhappy with Alice. Soames Sternly. Are you fonder of your wife than of your salvation? The Bishop Oh, very much. When you meet a man who is very particular about his salvation, look out for a woman who is very particular about her character; and marry them to one another: they’ll make a perfect pair. I advise you to fall in love; Anthony. Soames With horror. I!! The Bishop Yes, you! think of what it would do for you. For her sake you would come to care unselfishly and diligently for money instead of being selfishly and lazily indifferent to it. For her sake you would come to care in the same way for preferment. For her sake you would come to care for your health, your appearance, the good opinion of your fellow creatures, and all the really important things that make men work and strive instead of mooning and nursing their salvation. Soames In one word, for the sake of one deadly sin I should come to care for all the others. The Bishop Saint Anthony! Tempt him, Mrs. Collins: tempt him. Mrs. George Rising and looking strangely before her. Take care, my lord: you still have the power to make me obey your commands. And do you, Mr. Sexton, beware of an empty heart. The Bishop Yes. Nature abhors a vacuum, Anthony. I would not dare go about with an empty