A MELODRAMAIn Four ActsBy W. S. MAUGHAM
LONDON: WILLIAM HEINEMANNMCMXII
All rights reserved
THE EXPLORER
Time:The Present Day.
Scene:The First and Third Acts take place at Lady Kelsey's house; the Second at Mackenzie's camp in Central Africa; and the Fourth at the house of Richard Lomas.
The Performing Rights of this play are fully protected, and permission to perform it, whether by Amateurs or Professionals, must be obtained in advance from the author's Sole Agent, R. Golding Bright, 20 Green Street, Leicester Square, London, W.C., from whom all particulars can be obtained.
The Performing Rights of this play are fully protected, and permission to perform it, whether by Amateurs or Professionals, must be obtained in advance from the author's Sole Agent, R. Golding Bright, 20 Green Street, Leicester Square, London, W.C., from whom all particulars can be obtained.
THE EXPLORER
Scene:Lady Kelsey'sdrawing-room in Mayfair. At the back is a window leading on to a balcony. On the right a door leads to the staircase, and on the left is another door. It is the sumptuous room of a rich woman.
[Lady Kelseyis seated, dressed in black; she is a woman of fifty, kind, emotional, and agitated. She is drying her eyes.Mrs. Crowley,a pretty little woman of twenty-eight, very beautifully dressed, vivacious and gesticulative, is watching her quietly. TheRev. James Carbery,a young curate, tall and impressive in appearance, ponderous and self-important, is very immaculate in a silk waistcoat and a large gold cross.
Carbery.
I cannot tell you how sincerely I feel for you in this affliction, Lady Kelsey.
Lady Kelsey.
You're very kind. Every one has been very kind. But I shall never get over it. I shall never hold up my head again.
Mrs. Crowley.
Nonsense! You talk as if the whole thing weren't perfectly monstrous. Surely you don't for a moment suppose that your brother-in-law won't be able to explain everything away?
Lady Kelsey.
God forbid! But still, it's dreadful to think that at this very moment my poor sister's husband is standing in the felon's dock.
Carbery.
Dreadful, dreadful!
Lady Kelsey.
If you only knew the agonies I've suffered since Fred was arrested! At first I couldn't believe it, I wouldn't believe it. If I'd only known such a thing was possible, I'd have done anything to help him.
Carbery.
But had you any idea he was in difficulties?
Lady Kelsey.
He came to me and said he must have three thousand pounds at once. But I'd given him money so often since my poor sister died, and every one said I oughtn't to give him any more. After all, someone must look after his children, and if I don't hoard my money a little, George and Lucy will be penniless.
Mrs. Crowley.
Oh, you were quite right to refuse.
Lady Kelsey.
I thought it would only go in senseless extravagances as all the rest has gone, and when he said it was a matter of life and death, I couldn't believe it. He'd said that so often.
Carbery.
It's shocking to think a man of his position and abilities should have come to such a pass.
Mrs. Crowley.
Dear Mr. Carbery, don't draw the very obvious moral. We're all quite wretched enough as it is.
Lady Kelsey.
And two days later Lucy came to me with a white face to say that he had been arrested for forging a cheque.
Carbery.
I only met him once, and I'm bound to say I thought him a most charming man.
Lady Kelsey.
Ah, that's what ruined him. He was always so entirely delightful. He could never say no to any one. But there's not an atom of harm in him. I'm quite certain he's never done anything criminal; he may have been foolish, but wicked never.
Mrs. Crowley.
Of course he'll be able to clear himself. There's not the least doubt about that.
Lady Kelsey.
But think of the disgrace of it. A public trial. And Fred Allerton of all people! The Allertons were always so proud of their family. It was almost a mania with them.
Mrs. Crowley.
For centuries they've cherished the firm belief that there was no one in the county fit to black their boots.
Carbery.
Pride goeth before a fall.
Mrs. Crowley.
[Smiling.] And proverbs before a clergyman.
Lady Kelsey.
They wouldn't give him bail, so he's remained in prison till now. Of course, I made Lucy and George come here.
Mrs. Crowley.
You've been quite charming, Lady Kelsey, as every one knew you'd be. But don't think of these wretched weeks of suspense. Think only that Mr. Allerton has got his chance at last. Why, the trial may be over now, and he may this very minute be on his way to this house.
Carbery.
What will he do when it's over? The position will be surely a little unpleasant.
Lady Kelsey.
I've talked it over with Lucy, and—I've made it possible for them all to go abroad. They'll need rest and quiet. Poor things, poor things!
Carbery.
I suppose Miss Allerton and George are at the Old Bailey.
Lady Kelsey.
No, their father begged them to stay away. They've been in all day, waiting for the papers.
Mrs. Crowley.
But who is going to bring you the news? Surely you're not going to wait for the papers?
Lady Kelsey.
Oh, no, Dick Lomas is coming. He's one of the witnesses for Fred, and my nephew Bobby Boulger.
Mrs. Crowley.
And what about Mr. Mackenzie? He told me he would be there.
Carbery.
Is that the great traveller? I thought I saw in the paper that he'd already started for Africa.
Lady Kelsey.
Not yet. He's going at the beginning of the month. Oh, he's been so good to us during this time. All our friends have been good to us.
Carbery.
I shouldn't have thought there was much of the milk of human kindness to overflow in Alexander Mackenzie. By all accounts he dealt with the slave-traders in Africa with a good deal of vigour.
Mrs. Crowley.
The slave-traders must be quaking in their shoes if they know he's starting out again, for he's made up his mind to exterminate them, and when Alec Mackenzie makes up his mind to do a thing, he appears to do it.
Lady Kelsey.
He has the reputation of a hard man, but no one could be more delightful than he has been to me.
Mrs. Crowley.
I don't think I like him, but he's certainly a strong man, and in England just now every one's so weak and floppy, it's rather a relief to come across somebody who's got a will of iron and nerves of steel.
[George Allertoncomes in.He is a veryyoung man, good-looking, though at themoment pale and haggard, with a ratherweak face.
George.
I thought Lucy was here. [ToCarberyandMrs. Crowley.] How d'you do? Have you seen Lucy?
Mrs. Crowley.
I went to her room for a moment.
George.
What is she doing?
Mrs. Crowley.
Reading.
George.
I wish I could take it as calmly as she does. An outsider would think there was nothing the matter at all. Oh, it's too awful!
Lady Kelsey.
My dear, you must bear up. We must all hope for the best.
George.
But there is no best. Whatever happens, it means disgrace and dishonour. How could he? How could he?
Lady Kelsey.
No one knows your father as I do, George. I'm sure he's never been anything but thoughtless and foolish.
George.
Of course he's not been actually criminal. That's absurd. But it's bad enough as it is.
Mrs. Crowley.
You mustn't take it too much to heart. In another half-hour at the utmost your father will be here with everything cleared up, and you'll be able to go back to Oxford with a clear conscience.
George.
D'you think I can go to Oxford again when my father has been tried for forgery? No, no! No, no! I'd rather shoot myself.
Lady Kelsey.
My poor boy.... Where have you been all day?
George.
Heaven knows! I've walked through the streets till I'm dog-tired. Oh, the suspense is too awful. My feet carried me to the Old Bailey, and I would have given anything to go in and see how things were going, but I'd promised the Pater I wouldn't.
Lady Kelsey.
How did he look this morning?
George.
He was most awfully worn and ill. I don't believe he'll ever get over it. I saw his counsel before the case began. They told me it was bound to come all right.
Mrs. Crowley.
Is there anything in the evening papers?
George.
I haven't dared to look. The placards are awful.
Carbery.
Why, what do they say?
George.
Can't you imagine? "Gentleman charged with forgery." "County gentleman at the Old Bailey." And all the rest of it. Damn them! Damn them!
Lady Kelsey.
It may be all over by now.
George.
I feel that I shall never sleep again. I couldn't close my eyes last night. To think that one's own father....
Lady Kelsey.
For goodness' sake be quiet.
George.
[Starting.] There's a ring at the bell.
Lady Kelsey.
I've given orders that no one is to be admitted but Dick Lomas and Bobbie.
Mrs. Crowley.
It must be finished by now. It's one or the other of them come to tell you the result.
Lady Kelsey.
Oh, I'm so frightfully anxious.
George.
Aunt, you don't think....
Lady Kelsey.
No, no, of course not. Theymustfind him not guilty.
[TheButlerenters followed byDick Lomas,a clean-shaven dapper man, with a sharpface and good-natured smile. He is betweenthirty-five and forty, but slim and youthful.With him comesSir Robert Boulger,Lady Kelsey'snephew, a good-looking,spruce youth of twenty-two.
Butler.
Mr. Lomas, Sir Robert Boulger.
George.
[Excitedly.] Well, well? For God's sake tell us quickly.
Dick.
My dear people, I have nothing to tell.
George.
Oh!
[He staggers with sudden faintness and fallsto the floor.
Dick.
Hulloa! What's this?
Mrs. Crowley.
Poor boy!
[They crowd round him.
George.
It's all right. What a fool I am! I was so strung up.
Dick.
You'd better come to the window.
[He andBoulgertake the boy's arms and leadhim to the window.Georgeleans againstthe balcony.
Carbery.
I'm afraid I must go away. Every Wednesday at four I readLittle Lord Fauntleroyto forty charwomen.
Lady Kelsey.
Good-bye. And thanks so much for coming.
Mrs. Crowley.
[Shaking hands with him.] Good-bye. A clergyman always helps one so much to bear other people's misfortunes.
[Carberygoes out, and in a momentRobertBoulgercomes back into the room.
Lady Kelsey.
Is he better?
Boulger.
Oh, much. He'll be all right in a minute. [Lady Kelseygoes to the window, and he turns toMrs. Crowley.] You are a brick to come here to-day, when they're all in such awful trouble.
Mrs. Crowley.
[With a little hesitation.] Did you really come away before the trial was ended?
Boulger.
Why, of course. What did you think? You don't imagine they'll convict him?
Mrs. Crowley.
It's too dreadful.
Boulger.
Where is Lucy? I was hoping to get a glimpse of her.
Mrs. Crowley.
I wouldn't trouble her to-day if I were you. I think she most wants to be left alone.
Boulger.
I wanted to tell her that if I could do anything at all, she had only to command.
Mrs. Crowley.
I think she knows that. But I'll give her the message if you like.... You're very devoted.
Boulger.
I've been madly in love with her ever since I was ten.
Mrs. Crowley.
Take care then. There's nothing so tedious as the constant lover.
[Dickcomes into the room and speaks toRobert Boulger.
Dick.
George is quite well now. He wants you to smoke a cigarette with him.
Boulger.
Certainly.
[He goes on to the balcony.
Dick.
[WhenBoulgeris gone.] At least, he will the moment he sees you.
Mrs. Crowley.
What do you mean by that?
Dick.
Merely that I wanted to talk to you. And Robert Boulger, being a youth of somewhat limited intelligence, seemed in the way.
Mrs. Crowley.
Why did you leave the Old Bailey?
Dick.
My dear lady, I couldn't stand it. You don't know what it is to sit there and watch a man tortured, a man you've known all your life, whom you've dined with times out of number, in whose house you've stayed. He had just the look of a hunted beast, and his face was grey with terror.
Mrs. Crowley.
How was the case going?
Dick.
I couldn't judge. I could only see those haggard, despairing eyes.
Mrs. Crowley.
But you're a barrister. You must have heard his answers. What did he reply to all the questions?
Dick.
He seemed quite dazed. I don't think he took in the gist of his cross-examination.
Mrs. Crowley.
But the man's innocent.
Dick.
Yes, we all hope that.
Mrs. Crowley.
What d'you mean? There can be no doubt about that. When he was arrested Lucy went to him and begged him to tell her the exact truth. He swore that he wasn't guilty.
Dick.
Poor Lucy! She's borne up wonderfully. She'll stick to her father through thick and thin.
Mrs. Crowley.
[Abruptly.] Mr. Lomas, you're trying to put me off. It's not fair to let Lucy buoy herself up with false hopes. She's absolutely convinced that her father will be acquitted.
Dick.
Well, in another half-hour we shall all know. When I left, the judge was just going to sum up.
Mrs. Crowley.
Mr. Lomas, what is your opinion?
[He looks at her steadily for a moment.
Dick.
Were you very much surprised when you heard Fred Allerton was arrested?
Mrs. Crowley.
Good heavens, I was overwhelmed!
Dick.
[Dryly.] Ah!
Mrs. Crowley.
If you aggravate me I shall box your ears.
Dick.
When first I knew Fred he was a very rich man. You know that the Allertons are one of the oldest families in Cheshire?
Mrs. Crowley.
Yes. I think Lucy's only failing is an inordinate pride in her family. She thinks it very snobbish to have any particular respect for a peer of the realm, but only natural to look up to persons of good family.
Dick.
Ah, you see, you and I who have a quite indecent lack of ancestors, can't realise what the cult of family may be. There are families in the remote parts of England—not very rich, not very clever, and not very good-looking—who would look askance at a belted earl who came to demand their daughter's hand in marriage. They have a natural conviction that they're the salt of the earth, and in their particular corner they rule more absolutely than half the monarchs in Europe. The Allertons were like that. But Fred somehow seemed to belong to a different stock. The first thing he did was to play ducks and drakes with his fortune.
Mrs. Crowley.
But men ought to be extravagant. That's what they're there for.
Dick.
Women always took his side because he had an irresistible charm of manner.
Mrs. Crowley.
I think George has, too, a little.
Dick.
I hope for Lucy's sake he will turn out a different man from his father. I wish he weren't so like him in appearance. At last Fred Allerton had squandered every penny, and he married Lady Kelsey's sister, one of the three rich daughters of a Liverpool merchant. But he ran through her money, too, gambling, racing, and so forth, and she died of a broken heart—adoring him still.
Mrs. Crowley.
You're as well informed as an encyclopædia, Mr. Lomas.
Dick.
You see, I was made the trustee for the poor remains of Mrs. Allerton's fortune, and I know how Lucy has managed to keep all their heads above water. She's wonderful. Ever since she was a child she's held the reins in her own hands. She's stuck to her father, though Lady Kelsey implored her to leave him to his own foolish ways. She saw that George was decently educated. She hid from the world all the little shifts and devices to which she had to resort in order to keep up an appearance of decency.
Mrs. Crowley.
I suppose you, too, think Fred Allerton little better than a scamp?
Dick.
My dear lady, when a man has had to leave his club because he plays cards too well, it's at least permissible to suppose that there's something odd about him.
Mrs. Crowley.
Here's Lady Kelsey. For heaven's sake try and amuse her a little.
[Lady Kelseycomes back into the room.
Lady Kelsey.
Oh, Dick, I'm so full of my own troubles, I forgot to ask about yours. I'm so sorry to hear that you're ill.
Dick.
On the contrary, I'm in the very best of health.
Lady Kelsey.
But I saw in the papers that you were going to give up your seat in the House owing to ill-health.
Dick.
Of course, I'd forgotten. My heart is seriously deranged.
Mrs. Crowley.
How dreadful! What is the matter with it?
Dick.
Can you ask? I've banged it about at your feet so long that its functions are excessively impaired. And it's beaten all my waistcoats out of shape.
Mrs. Crowley.
Don't be so foolish. I was quite alarmed.
Dick.
I'm going to retire.
Lady Kelsey.
From the bar as well?
Dick.
From the bar as well. Henceforth I shall cultivate only such arts and graces as are proper to the man of leisure. My fellow men are a great deal too strenuous, and I propose to offer them the spectacle of a complete idler who demands from the world neither honours nor profit, but only entertainment.
Mrs. Crowley.
D'you mean to say you're going to give up a large practice and a position which may be very important merely to gratify a foolish whim?
Dick.
I haven't time to work. Life is so much too short. A little while ago it occurred to me that I was nearly forty. [ToMrs. Crowley.] D'you know the feeling?
Mrs. Crowley.
No, of course not. Don't be so uncivil.
Dick.
By the way, how old are you?
Mrs. Crowley.
Twenty-nine!
Dick.
Nonsense! There's no such age.
Mrs. Crowley.
I beg your pardon, upper parlourmaids are always twenty-nine.
Dick.
For years I've spent eight hours a day meddling with silly persons' silly quarrels, and eight hours more governing the nation. I've never been able to spend more than half my income. I'm merely working myself to death in order to leave a fortune to my nieces, two desperately plain girls with red noses.
Lady Kelsey.
But what are you going to do?
Dick.
Oh, I don't know. Perhaps I'll try my hand at big game shooting, if Alec will take me on this expedition of his. I've always thought shooting would be an agreeable pastime if partridges were the size of well-grown sheep and pheasants a little larger than a cow.
Mrs. Crowley.
Then the breakdown in your health is all humbug?
Dick.
Absolute humbug. If I were to tell the truth people would shut me up in a lunatic asylum. I've come to the conclusion that there's only one game in the world worth playing, and that's the game of life. I'm rich enough to devote myself to it entirely.
Mrs. Crowley.
But you'll get bored to death.
Dick.
Not I! Why, I'm growing younger every day. My dear Mrs. Crowley, I don't feel a day more than eighteen.
Mrs. Crowley.
You certainly look quite twenty-five.
Dick.
I haven't a white hair in my head.
Mrs. Crowley.
I suppose your servant plucks them out every morning.
Dick.
Oh, very rarely. One a month at the outside.
Mrs. Crowley.
I think I see one on the left temple.
Dick.
Really! How careless of Charles! I must speak to him.
Mrs. Crowley.
Let me pluck it out.
Dick.
I shall allow you to do nothing so familiar.
[Georgecomes hurriedly into the room.
George.
There's Alec Mackenzie. He's just driven up in a cab.
Dick.
He must have come from the trial. Then it's all over.
Lady Kelsey.
Quick! Go to the stairs, or Miller won't let him up.
[Georgeruns across the room and opens the door.
George.
[Calling.] Miller, Miller, Mr. Mackenzie's to come up.
[Lucy Allerton,hearing a commotion, comes in. She is older than George, a tall girl, white now, with eyes heavy from want of sleep. She has lived in the country all her life, and has brought up to London a sort of remoteness from the world. She is beautiful in a very English manner, and her clear-cut features are an index to a character in which the moral notions are peculiarly rigid. Self-control is a quality which she possesses in a marked degree, and one which she enormously admires in others.
Lucy.
Who is it?
George.
It's Alec Mackenzie. He's come from the trial!
Lucy.
Then it's finished at last. [She shakes hands withDick.] It's so good of you to come.
Boulger.
You're perfectly wonderful, Lucy. How can you be so calm?
Lucy.
Because I'm quite sure of the result. D'you imagine I'd doubt my father for a moment?
Dick.
Oh, Lucy, for heaven's sake don't be so sure. You must be prepared for everything.
Lucy.
Oh, no, I know my father. D'you think I've not studied him during these years that I've looked after him? He's a child, with all a child's thoughtlessness and simplicity. And God knows, he's weak. I know his faults better than any one, but it would be impossible for him to do anything criminal.
[TheButlerenters, followed byAlec Mackenzie.Alecis a tall, wiry man, well-knit,with dark hair and a small redmoustache and beard, cut close to the face.He is about five-and-thirty. He has greatease of manner, and there is about him anair as though he were accustomed thatpeople should do as he told them.
Butler.
Mr. Mackenzie!
George.
Is it finished? For God's sake tell us quickly, old man.
Lucy.
Why didn't father come with you? Is he following?
Alec.
Yes, it's all over.
Lady Kelsey.
Thank goodness. The suspense was really too dreadful.
George.
I knew they'd acquit him. Thank God!
Dick.
[Looking atAlec'sface.] Take care, George.
[SuddenlyLucygoes up toAlecand looks athim. An expression of horror distorts herfeatures.
Mrs. Crowley.
Lucy, what is it?
Alec.
I don't know how I am going to tell you.
Lucy.
You say the trial was over when you came away?
Alec.
Yes.
Lucy.
The jury had given their verdict?
George.
Lucy, what are you driving at? You don't think...?
Alec.
Your father asked me to come and break it to you.
George.
He's not dead?
Alec.
Perhaps it would be better if he were.
Lucy.
They found him guilty?
Alec.
Yes.
George.
[With a groan of despair.] Oh! But it's impossible.
Lucy.
[Putting her hand on his arm.] Ssh!
Lady Kelsey.
My God, my God! I'm thankful that his wife is dead.
Lucy.
I'm awfully stupid, but if he was innocent, how could they find him guilty? I don't know what you mean.
Alec.
I am afraid it's very clear.
Lucy.
There must be some horrible mistake.
Alec.
I wish there were.
George.
[Breaking down into tears and sinking into a chair.] Oh, God! What shall I do?
Lucy.
Don't do that, George. We want all our calmness now.
George.
Don't you see they all expected it? It was only you and I who believed in his innocence.
Lucy.
[ToAlec.] Did you hear the evidence?
Alec.
Yes.
Lucy.
And you followed it carefully?
Alec.
Very.
Lucy.
What impression did it leave on your mind?
Alec.
What can it matter how it affected me?
Lucy.
I want to know.
Dick.
Lucy, you're torturing us all.
Lucy.
If you had been on the jury would your verdict have been the same as theirs?
Alec.
I should have been obliged to judge according to my conscience.
Lucy.
I see. And you have no doubt that he was guilty?
Alec.
Don't ask me these horrible questions.
Lucy.
But it's very important. I know that you are a perfectly honest and upright man. If you think he was guilty, there is nothing more to be said.
Alec.
The case was so plain that the jury were not out of the box for more than ten minutes.
Lucy.
Did the judge say anything?
Alec.
[Hesitatingly.] He said there could be no doubt about the justice of the verdict.
Lucy.
What else?... [He looks at her without answering.] You had better tell me now. I shall see it in the papers to-morrow.
Alec.
[As though the words were dragged out of him.] He called it a very mean and shameful crime, worse than another man's because your father was a gentleman of ancient family and bore a name of great honour.
Dick.
[ToMrs. Crowley.] These judges have a weakness for pointing a moral.
Lucy.
And what was the sentence? [A pause.] Well?
Alec.
Seven years' penal servitude.
George.
Oh, God!
Dick.
My dear girl, I can't tell you how sorry I am.
Lady Kelsey.
Lucy, what is it? You frighten me.
Lucy.
Try and bear up, George. We want all the strength we've got, you and I.
[Mrs. Crowleyputs her arms roundLucyand kisses her.
Mrs. Crowley.
Oh, my dear, my dear!
Lucy.
[Disengaging herself.] You're all very kind, and I know you sympathise with me....
Mrs. Crowley.
[Interrupting her.] You know that we'll do everything we can to help you.
Lucy.
It's so good of you. There's really nothing that any one can do. Would you all mind leaving me alone with George? We must talk this over by ourselves.
Mrs. Crowley.
Very well. Mr. Lomas, will you put me into a cab?
Dick.
Certainly. [ToLucy.] Good-bye, dear, and God bless you.
Lucy.
[Shaking hands with him.] Don't worry too much about me. If there's anything I want, I'll let you know.
Dick.
Thanks.
[He goes out withMrs. Crowley.
Alec.
May I speak to you for a few minutes alone?
Lucy.
Not now, Mr. Mackenzie. I don't want to seem rude, but ...
Alec.
[Interrupting.] I know, and I wouldn't insist unless it were a matter of the most urgent importance.
Lucy.
Very well. George, will you take Aunt Alice to her room? I shall want you in a moment.
George.
Yes.
Lucy.
[ToLady Kelsey.] Won't you lie down and try and sleep a little? You must be dreadfully exhausted.
Lady Kelsey.
Ah, don't think of me now, dear. Think of yourself.
Lucy.
[Smiling.] It's purely selfish. It eases me a little to fuss about you.
George.
I'll wait in the smoking-room, Lucy.
Lucy.
Do!
[GeorgeandLady Kelseygo out.
Alec.
I think your self-command is wonderful. I've never admired you more than at this moment.
Lucy.
You make me feel such a prig. It's not really very strange if I keep my head, because I've had an immensely long training. Since I was fifteen I've been alone to care for George and my father.... Won't you sit down?
Alec.
I can say what I want in a very few words. You know that in a week I start for Mombassa to take charge of the expedition in North-East Africa. I may be away for three or four years, and I shall be exposed to a certain amount of danger. When I left Africa last time to gather supplies, I determined I would crush those wretched slave-traders, and now I think I have the means to do it.
Lucy.
I think you are engaged on a very great work.
Alec.
I don't know whether you ever noticed that—that I cared more for you than for any one in the world. But with the long journey in front of me I didn't think it was right to say anything to you. It wasn't fair to ask you to bind yourself during my long absence. And there was always the risk that a stray bullet might put an end to me. I made up my mind that I must wait till I returned. But things have changed now. Lucy, I love you with all my heart. Will you marry me before I go?
Lucy.
No, I can't do that. It's very generous of you, but I couldn't.
Alec.
Why not? Don't you know that I love you? It would help me so much if I knew that you were waiting for me at home.
Lucy.
I must look after my father. I shall go and live near the—prison, so that I can see him whenever it's possible.
Alec.
You can do that as well if you're my wife.... You have before you a very difficult and trying time. Won't you let me help you?
Lucy.
I couldn't. Heaven knows, I'm grateful to you for offering to marry me on this day of my bitter humiliation. I shall never forget your great kindness. But I must stand alone. I must devote myself to my father. When he's released I must have a home to bring him to, and I must tend him and care for him. Ah, now he wants me more than ever.
Alec.
You're very proud.
Lucy.
[Giving him her hand.] Dear friend, don't think hardly of me. I think I love you as much as it's possible for a woman to love a man.
Alec.
Lucy!
Lucy.
[With a smile.] Did you want me to tell you that in so many words? I admire you, and I trust you. I should be very happy if George could grow into so brave and honest a man as you.
Alec.
They're very modest crumbs with which you want me to be satisfied.
Lucy.
I know in your heart you think I'm right. You would never seek to dissuade me from what I'm convinced is my duty.
Alec.
Can't I do anything for you at all?
[She looks at him for a moment intently. She rings the bell.
Lucy.
Yes, you can do me the greatest possible service.
Alec.
I'm so glad. What is it you mean?
Lucy.
Wait, and I'll tell you. [TheButlerenters.] Ask Mr. George to come here, please.
Butler.
Very well, Miss.
[He goes out.
Lucy.
I want you to help me.
[Georgecomes in.
George.
Yes, Lucy?
Lucy.
I want to give into your charge what I love most in the world.... George, have you thought at all what you're going to do now? I'm afraid you can't go back to Oxford.
George.
No, I don't know what's to become of me. I wish I were dead.
Lucy.
An idea has just come to me. I'm going to ask Mr. Mackenzie to take you with him to Africa. Will you go?
George.
Yes, yes! I'd do anything to get away from England. I daren't face my friends—I'm too ashamed.
Lucy.
Ah, but it's not to hide yourself that I want you to go. Mr. Mackenzie, I daresay you know that we've always been very proud of our name. And now it's hopelessly dishonoured.
George.
Lucy, for God's sake ...
Lucy.
[Turning to him.] Now our only hope is in you. You have the opportunity of achieving a great thing. You can bring back the old name to its old honour. Oh, I wish I were a man. I can do nothing but wait and watch. If I could only fill you with my courage and with my ambition! Mr. Mackenzie, you asked if you could do anything for me. You can give George the chance of wiping out the shame of our family.
Alec.
Do you know that he will have to suffer every sort of danger and privation, that often he will be parched by the heat, and often soaked to the skin for days together? Sometimes he'll not have enough to eat, and he'll have to work harder than a navvy.
Lucy.
Do you hear, George? Are you willing to go?
George.
I'll do anything you want me to, Lucy.
Alec.
And you know that he may get killed. There may be a good deal of fighting.
Lucy.
If he dies a brave man's death, I have nothing more to ask.
Alec.
[ToGeorge.] Very well. Come with me, and I'll do my best for you.
Lucy.
Ah, thanks. You are really my friend.
Alec.
And when I come back?
Lucy.
Then, if you still care, ask your question again.
Alec.
And the answer?
Lucy.
[With a little smile.] The answer, perhaps, will be different.
END OF THE FIRST ACT
Scene:Alec Mackenzie'stent in North-East Africa. It is night. The place is dimly lighted. There is a little camp bed in one corner with a mosquito net over it. There are two or three folding chairs, some tin cases, and a table. On this a gun is lying.
Dickis seated with his head on his hands, leaning on the table, fast asleep.Dr. Adamson,the surgeon of the expedition, comes in. He is a large-boned brawny fellow with a Scotch accent. He looks atDickand smiles.
Doctor.
Hulloa, there! [Dickstarts up and seizes the gun. TheDoctorlaughs.] All right. Don't shoot. It's only me.
Dick.
[With a laugh.] Why the dickens did you wake me up? I was dreaming—dreaming of a high-heeled boot and a neat ankle, and the swish of a white lace petticoat.
Doctor.
I thought I'd just have a look at your arm.
Dick.
It's one of the most æsthetic sights I know.
Doctor.
Your arm?
Dick.
A pretty woman crossing Piccadilly at Swan and Edgar's. You are a savage, my good doctor, and a barbarian. You don't know the care and forethought, the hours of anxious meditation, it has needed for her to hold up that well-made skirt with the elegant grace which enchants you.
Doctor.
I'm afraid you're a very immoral man, Lomas.
Dick.
Ah, my dear fellow, at my time of life I have to content myself with condemning the behaviour of the younger generation. Even a camp bed in a stuffy tent with mosquitoes buzzing all around me has allurements greater than those of youth and beauty. And I declare for all women to hear that I am proof against their wiles. Give me a comfortable bed to sleep in, plenty to eat, tobacco to smoke, and Amaryllis may go hang.
Doctor.
Well, let's look at this wound of yours. Has it been throbbing at all?
Dick.
Oh, it's not worth bothering about. It'll be all right to-morrow.
Doctor.
I'll put a clean dressing on all the same.
Dick.
All right. [He takes off his coat and rolls up his sleeve. His arm is bandaged, and during the next speeches theDoctorputs on a dressing and a clean bandage.] You must be pretty well done up, aren't you?
Doctor.
Just about dropping. But I've got a deuce of a lot more work before I turn in.
Dick.
The thing that amuses me is to remember that I came to Africa thinking I was going to have a rattling good time.
Doctor.
You couldn't exactly describe it as a picnic, could you? But I don't suppose any of us knew it would be such a tough job as it's turned out.
Dick.
My friend, if ever I return to my native land, I will never be such a crass and blithering idiot as to give way again to a spirit of adventure.
Doctor.
[With a laugh.] You're not the sort of chap whom one would expect to take to African work. Why the blazes did you come?
Dick.
That's precisely what I've been asking myself ever since we landed in this God-forsaken swamp.
Doctor.
The wound looks healthy enough. It'll hardly even leave a scar.
Dick.
I'm glad that my fatal beauty won't be injured.... You see, Alec's about the oldest friend I have. And then there's young Allerton, I've known him ever since he was a kid.
Doctor.
That's an acquaintance that most of us wouldn't boast about.
Dick.
I had an idea I'd like Bond Street all the better when I got back. I never knew that I should be eaten alive by every kind of disgusting animal by night and day. I say, Doctor, do you ever think of a rump steak?
Doctor.
When?
Dick.
[With a wave of the hand.] Sometimes, when we're marching under a sun that just about takes the roof of your head off, and we've had the scantiest and most uncomfortable breakfast possible, I have a vision.
Doctor.
D'you mind only gesticulating with one arm?
Dick.
I see the dining-room of my club and myself sitting at a little table by the window looking out on Piccadilly, and there's a spotless tablecloth, and all the accessories are spick and span. An obsequious servant brings me a rump steak, grilled to perfection, and so tender that it melts in the mouth. And he puts by my side a plate of crisp, fried potatoes. Can't you smell them?
Doctor.
[Laughing.] Shut up!
Dick.
And then another obsequious servant brings me a pewter tankard, and into it he pours a bottle, a large bottle, mind you, of foaming ale.
Doctor.
You've certainly added considerably to our cheerfulness.
Dick.
[With a shrug of the shoulders.] I've often been driven to appease the pangs of raging hunger with a careless epigram, and by the laborious composition of a limerick I have sought to deceive a most unholy thirst.
Doctor.
Well, last night I thought you'd made your last joke, old man, and that I had given my last dose of quinine.
Dick.
We were in rather a tight corner, weren't we?
Doctor.
This is the third expedition I've gone with Mackenzie against the slave-raiders, and I promise you I've never been so certain that all was over with us.
Dick.
Funny thing death is, you know. When you think of it beforehand, it makes you squirm in your shoes, but when you've just got it face to face, it seems so obvious that you forget to be afraid. It's one of my principles never to be impressed by a platitude.
Doctor.
It's only by a miracle we escaped. If those Arabs hadn't hesitated to attack us just those ten minutes we should have been wiped out.
Dick.
Alec was splendid, wasn't he?
Doctor.
Yes, by Jove! He thought we were done for.