gainst us, and how the girls were so well taken care of.
Some of them did very well: one of them married an ambassador. But of
course now I daren't talk about such things: whatever would they think
of us! [She yawns]. Oh dear! I do believe I'm getting sleepy after all.
[She stretches herself lazily, thoroughly relieved by her explosion, and
placidly ready for her night's rest].

VIVIE. I believe it is I who will not be able to sleep now. [She goes
to the dresser and lights the candle. Then she extinguishes the lamp,
darkening the room a good deal]. Better let in some fresh air before
locking up. [She opens the cottage door, and finds that it is broad
moonlight]. What a beautiful night! Look! [She draws the curtains of the
window. The landscape is seen bathed in the radiance of the harvest moon
rising over Blackdown].

MRS WARREN [with a perfunctory glance at the scene] Yes, dear; but take
care you don't catch your death of cold from the night air.

VIVIE [contemptuously] Nonsense.

MRS WARREN [querulously] Oh yes: everything I say is nonsense, according
to you.

VIVIE [turning to her quickly] No: really that is not so, mother.

You have got completely the better of me tonight, though I intended it
to be the other way. Let us be good friends now.

MRS WARREN [shaking her head a little ruefully] So it _has_ been the
other way. But I suppose I must give in to it. I always got the worst of
it from Liz; and now I suppose it'll be the same with you.

VIVIE. Well, never mind. Come: good-night, dear old mother. [She takes
her mother in her arms].

MRS WARREN [fondly] I brought you up well, didn't I, dearie?

VIVIE. You did.

MRS WARREN. And youll be good to your poor old mother for it, won't you?

VIVIE. I will, dear. [Kissing her] Good-night.

MRS WARREN [with unction] Blessings on my own dearie darling! a mother's
blessing!

[She embraces her daughter protectingly, instinctively looking upward
for divine sanction.]

ACT III

[In the Rectory garden next morning, with the sun shining from a
cloudless sky. The garden wall has a five-barred wooden gate, wide
enough to admit a carriage, in the middle. Beside the gate hangs a bell
on a coiled spring, communicating with a pull outside. The carriage
drive comes down the middle of the garden and then swerves to its left,
where it ends in a little gravelled circus opposite the Rectory porch.
Beyond the gate is seen the dusty high road, parallel with the wall