[He goes out. In a moment he opens the door forPeggy Gann.
[He goes out. In a moment he opens the door forPeggy Gann.
Grace.
Oh, Peggy, how ill you look! I’ve been able to do nothing for you.
Peggy.
[With a cry of distress.] Oh, mum, I was hoping. You said you’d do your best for me.
Grace.
My dear, I’m so dreadfully sorry for you.
Peggy.
It’s so ’ard on me, mum, and so ’ard on father. Wasn’t there something more you could do, mum?
Grace.
[With a little gasp of anguish.] I did all I could. I couldn’t do anything more. I couldn’t really.... [Almost to herself.] It’s too much to ask anyone.
Peggy.
I’ve got to go then, and there’s an end of it. You won’t let father be turned away, will you, mum? That’s all I care about now. It ’ud just break his ’eart.
Grace.
[With a ray of hope.] D’you think he’ll let you go? I think it’s the best thing after all, Peggy. I’ve done—I’ve done all I could.
Peggy.
No, he won’t hear of it. But I shall go all the same—somewhere he can’t find me.
Grace.
[Anxious now to make the best of it.] I dare say it won’t be for very long, Peggy. Have you as much money as you want? I should like to do something for you.
Peggy.
I shan’t want anything, thank you, mum. And thank you for all you’ve done. And if anything come to ’appen to me, you’d see as the baby wasn’t sent to the workhouse, wouldn’t you, mum?
Grace.
How d’you mean? I don’t understand.
Peggy.
I’m not going to take the baby with me, mum. It would only be a hindrance.
Grace.
[With a sigh of relief.] Oh, I was so afraid you meant....
Peggy.
Is there anything else you want me for, mum?
Grace.
No, Peggy.
Peggy.
Then I’ll say good evening, mum.
Grace.
Good evening, Peggy.
[She watchesPeggygo out, then she gives a little moan of despair.
[She watchesPeggygo out, then she gives a little moan of despair.
Grace.
No, I couldn’t, I couldn’t.
Edith Lewiscomes in gaily.
Edith Lewis.
There you are! I thought you were in your room. Your maid said you hadn’t come up yet.
Grace.
[Wearily.] I was just going.
Edith Lewis.
[With a smile.] I’ve got something dreadfully important to ask you.
Grace.
[Forcing a smile.] What is it?
Edith Lewis.
Well, I want to know if you’re going to wear the grey satin you wore on Saturday. You see, I only brought three dinner dresses down with me, and one of them’s a grey, only it’s much more slaty than yours, and it’ll look so cold beside it. So I shan’t put it on if you’re going to wear yours.
Grace.
[Dully.] No, I won’t wear my grey satin.
Edith Lewis.
What are you going to wear?
Grace.
I don’t know.
Edith Lewis.
But you must know.
Grace.
Does it matter?
Edith Lewis.
I don’t want to clash with you.
Grace.
[Clenching her hands to prevent herself from screaming.] I won’t put on anything that’ll interfere with your grey.
Edith Lewis.
Thank you. Now I can be quite happy. I say, we shall be so late.
[She runs off.Gracegives a little answering laugh to hers; and asEdith Lewisgoes out, it lengthens into a mirthless, low, hysterical peal, broken with sobs.
[She runs off.Gracegives a little answering laugh to hers; and asEdith Lewisgoes out, it lengthens into a mirthless, low, hysterical peal, broken with sobs.
END OF THE SECOND ACT
[The dining-room at Kenyon Fulton. It is a fine room with French windows leading into the garden. On the walls are departed Insoleys of the last two or three generations, stiff ladies and gentlemen of the Victorian era, military-looking fellows in the uniform of the early nineteenth century, and ungainly Georgian squires with their wives in powdered hair. Between the windows, standing well away from the wall, rather far back, is a round table laid out for breakfast. On the Sheraton sideboard is a cloth, a stand for keeping dishes warm, a large ham, and plates and forks and spoons. Against the wall opposite the sideboard are a row of chairs, and there are half a dozen chairs round the table. There are doors right and left.It is the morning after the events which occur in the Second Act, and when the curtain rises prayers have just finished.Claudeis seated at the table with an immense prayer-book and a still larger Bible in front of him. The rest of the party are rising to their feet. They have been kneeling against various chairs. They consist ofMrs. Insoley,Miss Hall,andMiss Vernon.Well away from them, emphasising the fact that even the Almighty must recognise the difference betweenthe gentry and their inferiors, have been praying the servants. They have been kneeling against the row of chairs that line the wall, according to their precedence, ranging from theCookat one end to theButlerat the other; and they consist of theCook,obese, elderly and respectable,Mrs. Insoley’s Maid,twoHousemaids,theKitchenmaid,theFootman,andMoorethe butler. When they have scrambled to their feet they pause for a moment to gather themselves together, and, headed by theCook,walk out. TheButlertakes the Bible and the prayer-book off the table and carries them away.Claudegets up. He takes up his letters and theTimes,which he puts under his arm.
[The dining-room at Kenyon Fulton. It is a fine room with French windows leading into the garden. On the walls are departed Insoleys of the last two or three generations, stiff ladies and gentlemen of the Victorian era, military-looking fellows in the uniform of the early nineteenth century, and ungainly Georgian squires with their wives in powdered hair. Between the windows, standing well away from the wall, rather far back, is a round table laid out for breakfast. On the Sheraton sideboard is a cloth, a stand for keeping dishes warm, a large ham, and plates and forks and spoons. Against the wall opposite the sideboard are a row of chairs, and there are half a dozen chairs round the table. There are doors right and left.
It is the morning after the events which occur in the Second Act, and when the curtain rises prayers have just finished.Claudeis seated at the table with an immense prayer-book and a still larger Bible in front of him. The rest of the party are rising to their feet. They have been kneeling against various chairs. They consist ofMrs. Insoley,Miss Hall,andMiss Vernon.Well away from them, emphasising the fact that even the Almighty must recognise the difference betweenthe gentry and their inferiors, have been praying the servants. They have been kneeling against the row of chairs that line the wall, according to their precedence, ranging from theCookat one end to theButlerat the other; and they consist of theCook,obese, elderly and respectable,Mrs. Insoley’s Maid,twoHousemaids,theKitchenmaid,theFootman,andMoorethe butler. When they have scrambled to their feet they pause for a moment to gather themselves together, and, headed by theCook,walk out. TheButlertakes the Bible and the prayer-book off the table and carries them away.Claudegets up. He takes up his letters and theTimes,which he puts under his arm.
Mrs. Insoley.
I didn’t see Grace’s maid, Claude.
Claude.
I dare say Grace couldn’t spare her.
Mrs. Insoley.
If Grace were more punctual she wouldn’t be obliged to deprive her maid of the pleasure and the duty of attending morning prayers.
Miss Hall.
I didn’t see your maid either, Miss Vernon.
Miss Vernon.
She’s a Roman Catholic.
Mrs. Insoley.
A Papist, Helen? Isn’t that very risky?
Miss Vernon.
Good gracious me, why?
Mrs. Insoley.
Aren’t you afraid she’ll corrupt the other servants?
Miss Vernon.
[With a smile.] She’s a highly respectable person of well over forty.
Mrs. Insoley.
She must be very flighty. I would as soon have an atheist.
Miss Hall.
I would never dream of having a Romish maid myself.
Mrs. Insoley.
Is there any likelihood of your having a maid at all, Louisa?
Miss Hall.
No, Mrs. Insoley.
Mrs. Insoley.
In that case I can’t quite see what is the use of your having an opinion on the subject.
Claude.
[Looking up from his letters, with a smile.] Miss Hall was only making a general reflection.
Mrs. Insoley.
I don’t like general reflections at the breakfast table.
[During the next few speeches theButlerand theFootmancome in with covered entrée dishes which they put on the sideboard, coffee and milk in silver pots, and tea. They go out.Clauderetires to the window to read his letters.
[During the next few speeches theButlerand theFootmancome in with covered entrée dishes which they put on the sideboard, coffee and milk in silver pots, and tea. They go out.Clauderetires to the window to read his letters.
Mrs. Insoley.
I suppose you have prayers at Foley, Helen?
Miss Vernon.
I’m afraid I don’t. It makes me feel rather shy to read them.
Mrs. Insoley.
I don’t see why it should. It doesn’t make me feel shy.
Miss Hall.
You read them so well, Mrs. Insoley.
Mrs. Insoley.
I never forget while I’m reading them that I’m a woman of birth and a woman of property.
Miss Vernon.
And then I always think the servants hate them.
Mrs. Insoley.
The more they hate them, the better it is for them. That is life, my dear Helen. It’s a very good thing to begin the day by making it distinctly understood that masters are masters and servants are servants.
Miss Hall.
And I think servants like that, Mrs. Insoley.
Mrs. Insoley.
It is not a matter of interest to me if they like it or not, Louisa. I have the authority of my maker for it, and that is quite enough for me.
Henry Cobbettcomes in.
Cobbett.
I’m sorry I’m late.
Mrs. Insoley.
When breakfast’s at ten o’clock I cannot imagine why people shouldn’t be punctual.
Cobbett.
Neither can I. [Going to the sideboard.] Let’s have a look at the food.
Mrs. Insoley.
See if there’s anything I’d like, Louisa.
Cobbett.
[Taking off the covers.] There’s fried sole—eggs and bacon.
Mrs. Insoley.
The staple of every middle-class hotel in the kingdom.
Cobbett.
And devilled kidneys.
Mrs. Insoley.
I’ll begin with fried sole, and then I’ll have eggs and bacon, Louisa.
Claude.
[Coming forward.] Oh, I’m sorry. Is there anything I can get you?
Mrs. Insoley.
[Chaffing her fellow-guest.] And then, if Mr. Cobbett has left any, perhaps I’ll see if I can eat a devilled kidney.
Cobbett.
[With a chuckle.] Mr. Cobbett thinks he’ll have to look nippy to get anything at all.
Claude.
[ToMiss Vernon.] I wonder what I can tempt you with?
Miss Vernon.
I think I’ll have some fried sole.
Claude.
That’s the beauty of the country. One does relish one’s breakfast, doesn’t one?
[He hands a plate toMiss Vernon,and sits down with another for himself. As he does this he takes theTimesfrom under his arm and sits on it.
[He hands a plate toMiss Vernon,and sits down with another for himself. As he does this he takes theTimesfrom under his arm and sits on it.
Miss Vernon.
[With a smile at his peculiarity.] Is there anything in theTimes, Claude?
Claude.
I haven’t read it yet.
Mrs. Insoley.
In some ways you’re much more of a Bainbridge than an Insoley, Claude. My father used always to sit on theTimesso that no one should read it before him.
Claude.
I must say I don’t like to have my paper messed about by a lot of people before I’ve had a chance of looking at it. Half the pleasure of reading theTimesis reading it first. Besides, theMorning Postand theMailare on the sideboard for anyone who wants them.
Edith Lewiscomes in.
Edith.
Oh, I know I’m dreadfully late. Everybody’s going to scold me. And I’m so sorry.
Cobbett.
[ImitatingMrs. Insoley.] When breakfast’s at ten o’clock I cannot imagine why people shouldn’t be punctual.
Edith.
[Smiling.] Isn’t Grace down yet? [ToClaude,who rises to give her something to eat.] No, don’t bother. I’ll help myself.
Mrs. Insoley.
When I was mistress of this house breakfast was served punctually at eight o’clock every morning.
Cobbett.
[Flippantly.] It must have seemed just like supper. Did you have it the last thing before going to bed?
Mrs. Insoley.
I made no exceptions. The day after my cousin James broke his neck in the hunting-field and was brought to this very house on a stretcher, I came down as the clock struck. And a very hearty breakfast I ate too.
Cobbett.
Perhaps he didn’t leave you anything.
Mrs. Insoley.
[With a chuckle.] On the contrary, he left me all his debts.
EnterGrace.
Grace.
Good morning.
Mrs. Insoley.
Good afternoon, Grace.
Grace.
Am I late? I think punctuality’s the most detestable of all the virtues.
Mrs. Insoley.
It’s a royal virtue, my dear.
Grace.
In that case, as a member of the middle classes, it’s not surprising that I don’t practise it.
Claude.
What can I get you, darling?
Grace.
Is there anything nice to eat?
Mrs. Insoley.
[With a grim smile.] That is a matter of opinion.
Claude.
There’s fried sole and eggs and bacon.
Grace.
Oh, I don’t think I’ll have anything. I’ll just have some tea and toast.
Claude.
My dear, you’re not off your feed, are you?
Mrs. Insoley.
Grace has probably been stuffing herself with bread and butter in her room. I have no patience with the new-fangled custom of giving people tea when they wake up. I never give it to my guests.
Cobbett.
Then don’t ask me to come and stay with you.
Mrs. Insoley.
[Delighted with the opportunity he has given her.] It may surprise you, but I have no intention of doing so.
Cobbett.
[Cheerfully.] There now. And I thought I’d made such an impression on you, Mrs. Insoley.
Mrs. Insoley.
That’s why I couldn’t risk asking you to stay with me. Perhaps at my age I am safe from your blandishments, but Louisa is extremely susceptible.
Miss Hall.
Oh, Mrs. Insoley, how can you! Why, Mr. Cobbett must be ten years younger than I am.
Mrs. Insoley.
I should put it at fifteen.
Cobbett.
Don’t dash my hopes to the ground, Miss Hall. I was flattering myself you didn’t look upon me altogether with indifference.
[Archibald Insoleycomes in from the garden.
[Archibald Insoleycomes in from the garden.
Archibald.
Ah, I thought I’d find you still at breakfast.
Claude.
We’re a lazy lot. I suppose you’ve been up and about for the last two hours.
Grace.
[Looking at him.] Is anything the matter?
Archibald.
Yes.
Claude.
I thought you looked a bit odd.
Archibald.
A most awful thing has happened. I’ve only just heard of it.
Claude.
[Getting up from his chair.] What is it, old man?
[By this time the breakfasters are disturbed; there is a certain embarrassment about them; they are suffering from the awkwardness people feel when they see some onein a condition of distress, but do not suppose it has anything to do with themselves.
[By this time the breakfasters are disturbed; there is a certain embarrassment about them; they are suffering from the awkwardness people feel when they see some onein a condition of distress, but do not suppose it has anything to do with themselves.
Archibald.
You’d better come along with me to the smoking-room.
Grace.
It’s too late to make a secret of it, Archibald. You’d better tell us all.
Claude.
Fire away, old man.
Archibald.
[After a moment’s hesitation.] Peggy Gann has killed herself.
[Gracesprings to her feet with a cry.
[Gracesprings to her feet with a cry.
Claude.
[Looking atGrace.] My God.
[Gracecomes forward, horror on her face, and walks unsteadily to a chair. She sinks into it and stares in front of her.
[Gracecomes forward, horror on her face, and walks unsteadily to a chair. She sinks into it and stares in front of her.
Claude.
Why on earth did she do it?
Grace.
How horrible!
Claude.
[Going up to her, about to put his hand on her shoulder.] Grace.
Grace.
[With a shiver.] Don’t touch me.
[He stops and looks at her, puzzled and unhappy.
[He stops and looks at her, puzzled and unhappy.
Archibald.
You’d better come along.
Claude.
[With his eyes onGrace.] I feel I ought to do something. I don’t know what to do.
Archibald.
I’m afraid there’s nothing much that can be done.
Claude.
I’d better go and see Gann, hadn’t I?
Mrs. Insoley.
Won’t you finish your breakfast before you go, Claude?
Claude.
Oh, I can’t eat anything more.
[He goes out withArchibald.
[He goes out withArchibald.
Miss Hall.
What a dreadful thing.
[Gracegets up and goes to the window.
[Gracegets up and goes to the window.
Mrs. Insoley.
Where are you going, Grace?
Grace.
[Almost beside herself.] For heaven’s sake, leave me alone.
[She stands with her back to the rest of the party, looking out of the window. There is a little awkward pause.
[She stands with her back to the rest of the party, looking out of the window. There is a little awkward pause.
Mrs. Insoley.
Louisa, get me some of those devilled kidneys that Mr. Cobbett has been making so much fuss about.
Cobbett.
Let me.
Mrs. Insoley.
Louisa will get them. She likes to wait on me herself. Don’t you, Louisa?
Miss Hall.
Yes, Mrs. Insoley.
[Miss Vernonpushes back her chair.
[Miss Vernonpushes back her chair.
Mrs. Insoley.
Have you finished, Helen?
Miss Vernon.
Yes.
Mrs. Insoley.
You’ve eaten nothing.
Miss Vernon.
I couldn’t.
[Miss Vernonlooks as if she were going to speak toGrace,but she changes her mind and merely sits down in another chair. Every now and then she looks up atGrace.
[Miss Vernonlooks as if she were going to speak toGrace,but she changes her mind and merely sits down in another chair. Every now and then she looks up atGrace.
Mrs. Insoley.
I cannot imagine why anyone should be upset because an abandoned hussy has been so wicked as to destroy herself.
Cobbett.
Well, it hasn’t taken my appetite away, at all events.
Mrs. Insoley.
If we were honest with ourselves, Mr. Cobbett, we should acknowledge that nobody’s death is important enough to interfere with one’s appetite.
Miss Hall.
Oh, Mrs. Insoley, how can you say such a thing?
Mrs. Insoley.
Louisa, I’ve been like a mother to you for ten years. Would you eat one potato less for your dinner if I were found dead in my bed to-morrow morning?
Miss Hall.
[Taking out her handkerchief.] Oh, yes, Mrs. Insoley. I really, really would.
Mrs. Insoley.
[Touched.] You are a good girl, Louisa, and you may have that black lace shawl of mine. If you mend it carefully, it’ll last you for years.
Miss Hall.
Oh, thank you, Mrs. Insoley. You are so kind to me.
Edith.
D’you think I ought to offer to go away to-day? I was going to stay till to-morrow.
Cobbett.
I was going to-day in any case. I’m due to stay with some people in Wiltshire.
Mrs. Insoley.
You seem to be in great demand.
Cobbett.
I have a very pleasant fund of small talk.
Mrs. Insoley.
I’m afraid this is not an occasion upon which you’ll find it of any use.
[There is a moment’s pause.
[There is a moment’s pause.
Edith.
I’m going into the garden.
Cobbett.
Come on. I’m dying for a smoke.
[She gets up and walks out through the French windows.Cobbettfollows her.
[She gets up and walks out through the French windows.Cobbettfollows her.
Mrs. Insoley.
[Getting up from the table.] I think you should remember, my dear Grace, that suicide is not only very wicked, but very cowardly. I have no patience with the sentimentalities of the present day. Our fathers buried people who were sinful enough to destroy themselves at the cross-roads with a stake in their insides. And it served them right.
[Gracedoes not answer.Mrs. Insoley,with a shrug of the shoulders, walks out of the room, followed byMiss Hall.As soon asGracehears the door shut she turns round with an exclamation, half-smothered, of impatient anger.
[Gracedoes not answer.Mrs. Insoley,with a shrug of the shoulders, walks out of the room, followed byMiss Hall.As soon asGracehears the door shut she turns round with an exclamation, half-smothered, of impatient anger.
Grace.
Oh, did you hear? They have the heart to chatter like that when that unhappy girl is lying dead. They haven’t a word of pity. It seems to mean nothing to them that she sacrificed herself. If she died, it was to save her father, so that he shouldn’t be thrown out of work in his old age. And they call her wicked and sinful.
Miss Vernon.
But is that anything new to you? Haven’t you noticed that people always rather resent the heroismof others? They don’t like the claim it makes onthem, and the easiest way to defend themselves is with a sneer.
Grace.
I might have saved her life if I’d chosen, but I hadn’t the courage.
Miss Vernon.
[Afraid that she is going to blurt out a secret which had much better not be referred to.] Grace, don’t be stupid.
Grace.
Once I suspected what she was going to do, but she was too clever for me. I so wanted to believe it was all right. I wanted her to go away quietly.
Miss Vernon.
[Trying to calm her.] Lots of women have been in difficulties before, and they haven’t killed themselves. There must have been some kink in her nature. I suppose the instinct of life wasn’t so strong as it is with most of us, and—and she would have committed suicide for almost any reason.
Grace.
There was only one thing to say, and I didn’t say it. I couldn’t.
Miss Vernon.
My dear, for heaven’s sake pull yourself together.
Grace.
D’you know why Claude was so determined she should go? Because he couldn’t bear thatIshould come in contact with a woman who’d done wrong.
Miss Vernon.
[Looking down.] I had an idea that was at the back of his mind.
Grace.
[With sudden suspicion.] Why should you know what Claude feels better than I do?
Miss Vernon.
[Fearing she has given herself away.] It was a mere guess on my part.
Grace.
[With a keen look at her.] When I asked you the other day whether you’d been very much in love with Claude, you wouldn’t answer.
Miss Vernon.
[Smiling.] I really thought it was no business of yours.
Grace.
[Gravely.] Are you in love with him still?
[Miss Vernonis about to break out indignantly, but quickly controls herself.
[Miss Vernonis about to break out indignantly, but quickly controls herself.
Miss Vernon.
Yes, I suppose I am.
Grace.
Much?
Miss Vernon.
Hoarsely.] Yes.
[There is a pause.
[There is a pause.
Grace.
D’you know that my mother-in-law would give half her fortune to know—what you know? She’s been on the look-out to trip me up for years. It only wants a hint, and she can be trusted to make the most of it.
Miss Vernon.
My dear, I haven’t a notion what you’re talking about.
Grace.
[With a shrug of the shoulders.] How did you find out?
[Miss Vernonlooks at her for a moment, then looks away in embarrassment.
[Miss Vernonlooks at her for a moment, then looks away in embarrassment.
Miss Vernon.
I suspected before. In those circumstances hardly any men seem able to help a sort of proprietary air. He rather gave it away, you know.... And then yesterday I felt quite certain.
Grace.
I’m in your hands. What are you going to do?
Miss Vernon.
My dear, what can I do? Claude wouldn’t love me more because he loved you less.
Grace.
You must utterly despise me.
Miss Vernon.
No.... I feel awfully sorry for Claude.
Grace.
[Almost jealously.] Claude’s your first thought always.
Miss Vernon.
He’s been the whole world to me since I was a girl of sixteen.
Grace.
Is that why you never married?
Miss Vernon.
I suppose it is.
Grace.
I never dreamt that anyone could care for Claude like that. I suppose you see something in him that I’ve never seen.... He has a hundred different ways of getting on my nerves.
Miss Vernon.
You see, I’m not irritated by the mannerisms that irritate you.
Grace.
[Reflectively.] Real love accepts them, I suppose.
Miss Vernon.
It wants them even because it’s something individual to cling to.... And then it laughs at them a little, and the best love of all includes a sense of humour.
Grace.
It’s made me feel so strange to know that you love him, Helen. It’s given him something that he’s never had before.
Miss Vernon.
I don’t suppose any woman likes her husband less because she knows that another woman is eating her heart out for him.
Grace.
[Slowly.] I wonder if I’ve misjudged him all these years.... D’you think I found him shallow because there was no depth in me, and narrow because I was narrow myself.
[EnterClaude Insoley.Graceturns to him quickly.
[EnterClaude Insoley.Graceturns to him quickly.
Grace.
Did you see Gann?
Claude.
[Touching the bell.] No, he wasn’t at the cottage. I’ve sent for him and told him to come here.
Grace.
They know where he is then?
Claude.
Yes, worse luck. He’s been soaking at the public-house since it opened.
Miss Vernon.
But when did it happen?
Claude.
Peggy, d’you mean? She did it last night.
Grace.
Last night? But why have we only just heard of it?
Claude.
[Deeply discouraged.] Because they don’t come to us any more when they’re in trouble. They keep it to themselves.
[Mooreanswers the bell.
[Mooreanswers the bell.
Claude.
Oh, Moore, when Gann comes let me know. I’ll come and see him at once.
Moore.
He’s here now, sir.
Claude.
Is he? I didn’t expect him yet. All right.
Grace.
Won’t you let him come here, Claude? I should like to speak to him too.
Claude.
I don’t think you’d better see him if he’s been drinking. He may be going to make himself rather objectionable.
Grace.
I must say to him what I’ve got on my heart, Claude.
Claude.
Very well. [ToMoore.] Tell Gann to come here.
Moore.
Very good, sir.