_ abominable--but they might make
allowances for _that_. It _is_ so unfair! [_The Play proceeds. The
Heroine's jealousy has been excited by the Villain, for vague purposes
of his own, and the Hero is trying to disarm her suspicions._ _She._
"But why are you constantly going from Paris to London at the beck
and call of that man?" _He_ (_aside_). "If she only knew that I do it
to shield my second cousin, JASPER--but my oath!--I cannot tell her!
(_To her._) The reason is very simple, darling--he is my Private
Secretary!" (_Roars of inextinguishable laughter, drowning the Wife's
expressions of perfect satisfaction and confidence. The Hero wants to
go out; the Wife begs him to stay; she has 'a presentiment of evil--a
dread of something unseen, unknown.' He goes: the Villain enters in
evening dress._) _Villain._ "Your husband is false to you. Meet me
in half an hour at the lonely hut by the cross-roads, and you shall
have proof of his guilt." (_The Wife departs at once, just as she is.
Villain, soliloquising._) "So--my diabolical schemes prosper. I have
got JOSEPH out of the way by stratagem, decoyed his wife--my early
love--to a lonely hut, where my minions wait to seize her. Now to
abduct the child, destroy the certificate of vaccination which alone
stands between me and a Peerage, set fire to the home of my ancestors,
accuse JOSEPH of all my crimes, and take my seat in the House of
Lords as the Earl of Addelegg! Ha-ha--a good night's work! a good--"
_Joseph_ (_from back_). "Not so. I have heard all. I will _not_ have
it. You _shall_ not!" (_&c., &c._) _Villain._ "You would thwart my
schemes?" _Joseph_ (_firmly_). "I would. My wife and child shall
_not_--" (_&c., &c._) _Villain_ (_slowly_). "And the oath you swore
to my Mother, your dying Aunt, would you break that?" _Joseph_
(_overcome_). "My oath! my Aunt! Ah, no, I cannot, I _must_ not break
it. JASPER SHOPPUN, I am powerless--you must do your evil will!" (_He
sinks on a settee: Triumph of Villain, tableau, and Curtain._)

_Author._ I wouldn't have _believed_ that a modern audience would
treat heroic conduct like that as if it was _laughable_. It's enough
to make one give up play-writing altogether!

_Comp._ Oh, I wouldn't do _that_, dear. You mustn't punish Posterity!
[_The Play goes on and on; the Villain removes inconveniently
repentant tools, and saddles the Hero with his nefarious deeds. The
Hero is arrested, but reappears, at liberty, in the next Act (about
the N