Theophila.
Theophila.
Theophila.
[Suddenly.] Of course. [Dropping her voice.] I remember. [He stops, staring at her.] Do you recollect? [Steadily gazing into the fire.] That night when we were sitting over the fire in that little room in Lennox Gardens——
John.
John.
John.
[Hastily.] Oh, yes, yes——
Theophila.
Theophila.
Theophila.
“I shall always burn a fire, Theo,†you said, “to bring back these nights, these soothing, precious talks in the quiet hours. Wherever I may be, I shall onlyhave to light my fire to hear you and to see you—to see you sitting facing me——â€
John.
John.
John.
Ah, that evening—yes, I was terribly—terribly down that evening [Wiping his brow.] By-the-bye, we—we mustn’t neglect the—the—the matter of business—the little matter of business——
Theophila.
Theophila.
Theophila.
[Rousing herself.] Matter of——?
John.
John.
John.
The matter of business you mention in your letter——
Theophila.
Theophila.
Theophila.
[Rising.] Oh, yes. [Sitting on the left of the centre table.] Jack, I—I do hope you won’t hate me for asking you. You see, if I went to any one else, I should run a chance of having all my arrangements upset. I—I want to borrow a little money——
John.
John.
John.
Ah, yes, certainly—anything—I shall be most happy——
Theophila.
Theophila.
Theophila.
This is exactly how I am placed. Mr. Fraser wanted to hurry me off abroad—ah! that’s done with. Instead of that, you see, I’ve taken my travels and my future into my own hands. I’ve telegraphed to Emily Graveney, who was at Madame MacDonnell’s with us girls in the Rue D’Audiffret-Pasquier. Emily is teaching in Paris now—I hardly know how she scrapes along; she’ll be mad with delight to have my companionship. But till the lawyers settle my position precisely as regards Mr. Fraser, I’m practically broke, penniless. It’s a little ready-money I want.
John.
John.
John.
[Who has seated himself at the right of the table whileTheophilahas been talking.] You have only to tell me how much——
Theophila.
Theophila.
Theophila.
Well, I think I could tide over with fifty pounds. I’m afraid you haven’t got it in the house, though. I don’t want a cheque.
John.
John.
John.
[Taking out his keys and going to a table.] I believe Icanjust make it up——[He opens a drawer in thewriting-table, finds some bank-notes, counts them, then empties his sovereign-purse and screws the gold up in the notes.] Within a pound——
Theophila.
Theophila.
Theophila.
That’s of no consequence. [Rising.] I’m awfully obliged to you; I knew you would—I—I——
[He returns to her, and finds her clutching the table unsteadily.
John.
John.
John.
[Placing the money on the table.] What’s the matter?
Theophila.
Theophila.
Theophila.
Nothing. [Sinking back into the chair, with closed eyes.] I shall be all right in a minute.
[He brings her a glass of water, and places it to her lips. She sips the water for a little while, then gives a sigh.
John.
John.
John.
Better?
Theophila.
Theophila.
Theophila.
I think so.
John.
John.
John.
When did you last eat? [She shakes her head feebly. He puts the glass of water aside and fetches the biscuits.] Get two or three of these down. Come—try——!
Theophila.
Theophila.
Theophila.
[Taking a biscuit.] Thank you.
[He places the biscuits on the table by her side, and goes back to the other table.
John.
John.
John.
A glass of this champagne would pull you together.
Theophila.
Theophila.
Theophila.
[Nibbling the biscuit, her eyes still closed.] Would it? [He brings the decanter of champagne and a small tumbler. She, speaking faintly, and opening her eyes.] Oh, do let me off this, Jack.
John.
John.
John.
[Pouring out some champagne.] No, no; stick to it—do.
Theophila.
Theophila.
Theophila.
[Watching him.] That looks nice. [She puts theremains of her biscuit on the table and stretches out her hand for the wine. He gives it to her; she drinks.] Oh! oh! oh—h—h—h! [There is a pause; there she shakes herself, looks up at him, and breaks into a low, childlike little laugh.] Ha! ha, ha, ha! I’d nearly gone, hadn’t I? [Emptying her glass.] Oh! oh!... Fetch yourself a glass, and we’ll drink luck to each other. Then I really must be off. The porter said the trains run every—every what was it? [He brings a glass, which she fills, speaking animatedly.] A tumbler! oh, fie! [Filling her own glass.] Oh, mine’s a tumbler too! [Nodding to him.] Ourselves! [Touching his glass with hers.] Our two poor unfortunate selves! [They drink.] Ha! I don’t care! do you?
John.
John.
John.
Care——?
Theophila.
Theophila.
Theophila.
A hang. For anything; for what the judge said; for what people think. Puh. Here’s to our friend, the judge——! [Drinking, nearly emptying her glass.] I hope his wife’s a cat who leads him a——! [Jumping up suddenly, her eyes dilating, holding her glass high in the air.] Happiness and prosperity to Mr. Fraser! [Loudly.] Mr. Fraser!
John.
John.
John.
Sssh! oh, hush!
Theophila.
Theophila.
Theophila.
Fraser of Locheen! [She goes to the fireplace and flings the contents of her glass into the grate.] Ha! well, that’s throwing good stuff after poor, isn’t it? [She places her glass on the table; the cigarette box is open; she takes a cigarette.] The old sort?
John.
John.
John.
[Quickly.] No, no——
Theophila.
Theophila.
Theophila.
[Striking a match.] Only a whiff. [Lighting her cigarette.] Sure I’m not in the way, Jack, if I rest here a minute or two longer?
John.
John.
John.
[With a glance at the library.] C—certainly not.
Theophila.
Theophila.
Theophila.
[Throwing herself upon the settee in a careless attitude, smoking.] Oh, thank God for this rest! [Looking round.] So this is the little place you used to tell me about——
John.
John.
John.
[Standing, watching her, apprehensively.] Um——
Theophila.
Theophila.
Theophila.
Phew! Your fire’s all right to look at——! [She removes her cape from her shoulders and flings it away from her; he picks it up, and places it over the back of a chair.] Never mind that rag. Are you likely to be in Paris?
John.
John.
John.
I—I’m not fond of Paris.
Theophila.
Theophila.
Theophila.
[Jumping up, and speaking volubly, excitedly, boisterously.] Suppose that wire don’t find Emily, and she doesn’t meet me at the Nord to-morrow night. Ugh! cheerful! She may be dead, No, no; not Emily. Poor old Emily! Be sure you look me up if youshouldpass through. Rue Poissonnière, 18. You’re bound to be rambling soon. How lucky a man is! Does just as he chooses. Good chap, So-and-so—awfully rackety—but the world would be a dooced deal livelier if there were more like him! That’s what they all say of a man!... phew!... [As she rattleson, she takes off her bonnet and clears her hair from her brow.] But a woman! Well, look atme. Not that anybodywilllook at me, in Paris or elsewhere. I used to know several smart people in Paris! Now! Oh, my stars, won’t they stalk distant objects when they see me coming along! [Angrily.] Ah, a gay time I shall have of it, shut up with Emily Graveney, with her red nose, and her poor, narrow chest, and her perpetual sniffle! [She flings away her cigarette. Her hair is disordered, her breath comes quickly, there is a wild look in her eyes. Her bonnet falls to the floor. He paces the room distractedly.] By Jove, I won’t have a dull time though! I shall only hang out with Emily long enough just to turn round. Then I’ll take a littleappartementof my own. Uncle Fletcher will make me an allowance; I won’t touch a penny of—puh—hismoney. I’ll let the world see how happy I am without the character I’ve been robbed of! Yes, robbed of! [Laughing noisily.] Ha, ha, ha! [Snapping her fingers.] Pish! I shall burst out laughing in the face of the whole world, Jack—put my tongue out at the world, your wife, my husband! After the solemn farce we’ve all gone through. [Between her teeth.] Y—y—yes, they shall have a pretty picture in their minds ofme, t’other side of the Channel, with my finger to my nose likea cheeky urchin! Oh, my heavens, how I hate ’em—hate ’em—hate ’em!
John.
John.
John.
Mrs. Fraser——! Mrs. Fraser——!
Theophila.
Theophila.
Theophila.
Oh, the devilish injustice of it! To think that we’re still married, Jack—you and I! Hah! the mockery! To think that we wander about the world still with our owner’s marks branded upon us! Ha, ha! I believe I’ve an “F†branded upon my shoulder—burnt in! [Running to him.] Oh, I won’t bear it! I can’t bear it!
John.
John.
John.
Hush, hush!
Theophila.
Theophila.
Theophila.
I shall go mad if I can’t pay out that wife of yours! [Shrilly.] She’s ruined me! I will be even with her!
John.
John.
John.
Hush——!
Theophila.
Theophila.
Theophila.
And withhim!—that fish!—that cold, flappingfish! [Clinging to him, suddenly.] Jack——! I wouldn’t bore you! I wouldn’t bore you, Jack——!
John.
John.
John.
Bore me!
Theophila.
Theophila.
Theophila.
Ah-h-h-h! take me away! Let’s you and I go together——!
John.
John.
John.
[Putting his hand over her mouth.] Ah, for God’s sake——! [The clock in the library is heard to strike.] It’s too late! too late!
Theophila.
Theophila.
Theophila.
[Drawing back, looking into his face.] Too late——? [There is a sharp knocking at the dining-room door.] What’s that? [The knocking is repeated.] Who is it?
John.
John.
John.
Mrs. Cloys is here.
Theophila.
Theophila.
Theophila.
[Her hand to her brow.] Mrs. Cloys—aunt——!
John.
John.
John.
Mrs. Cloys, Sir Fletcher, and your brother were with me when your note arrived. They want to see you.
Theophila.
Theophila.
Theophila.
See me—See me——
John.
John.
John.
[Gripping her wrist.] Pull yourself together, Mrs. Fraser——[The knocking is again heard.Johngoes to the door.
Theophila.
Theophila.
Theophila.
[In a whisper.] Jack! [He pauses; she seems dazed.] They—they haven’t heard—a word of—oh, of what I’ve said to you?
John.
John.
John.
Heard——! N-no. Are you ready?
[He pulls aside theportière,unlocks the door, and opens it.Mrs. Cloysenters;Sir FletcherandClaudeappear in the doorway.
Mrs. Cloys.
Mrs. Cloys.
Mrs. Cloys.
You have tried my patience long enough, Mr. Allingham. [She goes toTheophila;Johnwalksaway, and stands with his back to those in the room.] Come! you have had ample time for yourbusiness interview. [Staring atTheophila.] What’s wrong with you?
Theophila.
Theophila.
Theophila.
[Sinking into a chair.] N-nothing.
Mrs. Cloys.
Mrs. Cloys.
Mrs. Cloys.
Where’s your cape—and your bonnet?
[Theophilalooks round vacantly.
Sir Fletcher Portwood.
Sir Fletcher Portwood.
Sir Fletcher Portwood.
Cape? cape? Here’s a cape.
[He hands the cape toMrs. Cloys;she snatches it from him, and puts it roundTheophila’sshoulders.Claudepicks up the bonnet, and brings it toMrs. Cloys,then goes to the upper door, and stands there waiting.
Mrs. Cloys.
Mrs. Cloys.
Mrs. Cloys.
[RaisingTheophila.] You are not well; you are ill. Fletcher——! [Sir Fletchergoes up to the steps leading to the library.] Where are you going?
Sir Fletcher Portwood.
Sir Fletcher Portwood.
Sir Fletcher Portwood.
My hat——[He pushes theportièreaside, then draws back.] Mrs. Allingham——! [Hesitatingly.] Er—I believe I have left my hat here, Mrs. Allingham. May I——? [He enters the library.
Theophila.
Theophila.
Theophila.
Mrs. Allingham! Mrs.—Allingham——!
Mrs. Cloys.
Mrs. Cloys.
Mrs. Cloys.
Yes, yes.
[Sir Fletchercomes out of the library, carrying his hat.
Theophila.
Theophila.
Theophila.
[ToMrs. Cloys.] Mrs. Allingham! his ... wife!
Mrs. Cloys.
Mrs. Cloys.
Mrs. Cloys.
Mr. and Mrs. Allingham have arranged their differences. [Looking fromTheophilatoJohn.] Why, don’t you know?
Sir Fletcher Portwood.
Sir Fletcher Portwood.
Sir Fletcher Portwood.
[Coming down the steps.] Haven’t you seen Mrs. Allingham?
Theophila.
Theophila.
Theophila.
Seen her——?
Sir Fletcher Portwood.
Sir Fletcher Portwood.
Sir Fletcher Portwood.
This evening—here——?
Theophila.
Theophila.
Theophila.
Here!
Sir Fletcher Portwood.
Sir Fletcher Portwood.
Sir Fletcher Portwood.
Your interview with Mr. Allingham has taken place in this room?
Theophila.
Theophila.
Theophila.
In this room? Yes——
Mrs. Cloys.
Mrs. Cloys.
Mrs. Cloys.
Come——
Sir Fletcher Portwood.
Sir Fletcher Portwood.
Sir Fletcher Portwood.
Wait, Harriet, please! Allingham—Mr. Allingham—pardon me for putting such a question: surely you have not allowed—allowed—been a party to——?
Mrs. Cloys.
Mrs. Cloys.
Mrs. Cloys.
AllowedAllowed—what?
Sir Fletcher Portwood.
Sir Fletcher Portwood.
Sir Fletcher Portwood.
[Looking towards the library.] Harriet, you can hear most distinctly, in the library——
Mrs. Cloys.
Mrs. Cloys.
Mrs. Cloys.
Hear——!
Sir Fletcher Portwood.
Sir Fletcher Portwood.
Sir Fletcher Portwood.
Overhear—certainly, overhear——
Mrs. Cloys.
Mrs. Cloys.
Mrs. Cloys.
No, no! [Going toJohn.] Preposterous! [After a pause.] Mr. Allingham, why should Mrs. Allingham—be there? [Johnis silent.] What has passed between you and——? Your wife has not been—listening?
John.
John.
John.
[Desperately.] Mrs. Fraser—has said—nothing to me that a—a just woman can bring up against her——
Mrs. Cloys.
Mrs. Cloys.
Mrs. Cloys.
Listening!
John.
John.
John.
[Almost inaudibly.] Yes. [Passionately.] But you don’t know——! [Calling in a loud voice.]Olive! Olive——!
[Olivecomes out of the library and stands at the top of the steps.Theophilaregards her for a moment blankly, then goes to the balustrade, and stares up at her. After a brief pauseTheophilajoinsMrs. Cloys,but seeingJohn,she comes unsteadily towards him and looks him in the face. Then as she turns away toMrs. Cloys,she utters a groan, and tumbles to the floor atJohn’sfeet.
END OF THE SECOND ACT.