ANDERSON (stopping him). Don't be alarmed, sir; I am no great preacher. You are quite safe. (Richard smiles in spite of himself. His glance softens: he even makes a gesture of excuse.
Anderson, seeing that he has tamed him, now addresses him earnestly.) Mr. Dudgeon: you are in danger in this town.
RICHARD. What danger?
ANDERSON. Your uncle's danger. Major Swindon's gallows.
RICHARD. It is you who are in danger. I warned you--
ANDERSON (interrupting him goodhumoredly but authoritatively).
Yes, yes, Mr. Dudgeon; but they do not think so in the town. And even if I were in danger, I have duties here I must not forsake.
But you are a free man. Why should you run any risk?
RICHARD. Do you think I should be any great loss, Minister?
ANDERSON. I think that a man's life is worth saving, whoever it belongs to. (Richard makes him an ironical bow. Anderson returns the bow humorously.) Come: you'll have a cup of tea, to prevent you catching cold?
RICHARD. I observe that Mrs. Anderson is not quite so pressing as you are, Pastor.
JUDITH (almost stifled with resentment, which she has been expecting her husband to share and express for her at every insult of Richard's). You are welcome for my husband's sake. (She brings the teapot to the fireplace and sets it on the hob.)
RICHARD. I know I am not welcome for my own, madam. (He rises.)
But I think I will not break bread here, Minister.
ANDERSON (cheerily). Give me a good reason for that.
RICHARD. Because there is something in you that I respect. and that makes me desire to have you for my enemy.
ANDERSON. That's well said. On those terms, sir, I will accept your enmity or any man's. Judith: Mr. Dudgeon will stay to tea.
Sit down: it will take a few minutes to draw by the fire.
(Richard glances at him with a troubled face; then sits down with his head bent, to hide a convulsive swelling of his throat.) I was just saying to my wife, Mr. Dudgeon, that enmity--(she grasps his hand and looks imploringly at him, doing both with an intensity that checks him at once) Well, well, I mustn't tell you, I see; but it was nothing that need leave us worse friend--enemies, I mean. Judith is a great enemy of yours.
RICHARD. If all my enemies were like Mrs. Anderson I should be the best Christian in America.
ANDERSON (gratified, patting her hand). You hear that, Judith?
Mr. Dudgeon knows how to turn a compliment.
The latch is lifted from without.
JUDITH (starting). Who is that?
Christy comes in.
CHRISTY (stopping and staring at Richard). Oh, are YOU here?
RICHARD. Yes. Begone, you fool: Mrs. Anderson doesn't want the whole family to tea at once.
CHRISTY (coming further in). Mother's very ill.
RICHARD. Well, does she want to see ME?
CHRISTY. No.
RICHARD. I thought not.
CHRISTY. She wants to see the minister--at once.
JUDITH (to Anderson). Oh, not before you've had some tea.
ANDERSON. I shall enjoy it more when I come back, dear. (He is about to take up his cloak.)
CHRISTY. The rain's over.
ANDERSON (dropping the cloak and picking up his hat from the fender). Where is your mother, Christy?
CHRISTY. At Uncle Titus's.
ANDERSON. Have you fetched the doctor?
CHRISTY. No: she didn't tell me to.
ANDEBSON. Go on there at once: I'll overtake you on his doorstep.
(Christy turns to go.) Wait a moment. Your brother must be anxious to know the particulars.
RICHARD. Psha! not I: he doesn't know; and I don't care.
(Violently.) Be off, you oaf. (Christy runs out. Richard adds, a little shamefacedly) We shall know soon enough.
ANDERSON. Well, perhaps you will let me bring you the news myself. Judith: will you give Mr. Dudgeon his tea, and keep him here until I return?
JUDITH (white and trembling). Must I--
ANDERSON (taking her hands and interrupting her to cover her agitation). My dear: I can depend on you?
JUDITH (with a piteous effort to be worthy of his trust). Yes.
ANDERSON (pressing her hand against his cheek). You will not mind two old people like us, Mr. Dudgeon. (Going.) I shall not say good evening: you will be here when I come back. (He goes out.)
They watch him pass the window, and then look at each other dumbly, quite disconcerted. Richard, noting the quiver of her lips, is the first to pull himself together.
RICHARD. Mrs. Anderson: I am perfectly aware of the nature of your sentiments towards me. I shall not intrude on you. Good evening. (Again he starts for the fireplace to get his coat.)
JUDITH (getting between him and the coat). No, no. Don't go: please don't go.
RICHARD (roughly). Why? You don't want me here.
JUDITH. Yes, I--(wringing her hands in despair) Oh, if I tell you the truth, you will use it to torment me.
RICHARD (indignantly). Torment! What right have you to say that?
Do you expect me to stay after that?
JUDITH. I want you to stay; but (suddenly raging at him like an angry child) it is not because I like you.
RICHARD. Indeed!
JUDITH. Yes: I had rather you did go than mistake me about that.
I hate and dread you; and my husband knows it. If you are not here when he comes back, he will believe that I disobeyed him and drove you away.
RICHARD (ironically). Whereas, of course, you have really been so kind and hospitable and charming to me that I only want to go away out of mere contrariness, eh?
Judith, unable to bear it, sinks on the chair and bursts into tears.
RICHARD. Stop, stop, stop, I tell you. Don't do that. (Putting his hand to his breast as if to a wound.) He wrung my heart by being a man. Need you tear it by being a woman? Has he not raised you above my insults, like himself? (She stops crying, and recovers herself somewhat, looking at him with a scared curiosity.) There: that's right. (Sympathetically.) You're better now, aren't you? (He puts his hand encouragingly on her shoulder.
She instantly rises haughtily, and stares at him defiantly. He at once drops into his usual sardonic tone.) Ah, that's better. You are yourself again: so is Richard. Well, shall we go to tea like a quiet respectable couple, and wait for your husband's return?
