Chapter 12

Fraser.

They were mere words you were speaking——

Theophila.

It wasme—me!

Fraser.

Surely, if I see no reason why you should not claim my help——?

Theophila.

I see a reason—that’s enough. I repeat, what I asked of you yesterday was my right, my right. But to-day—to-day it would be accepting a favour from you——

Fraser.

Favour!

Theophila.

Favour. A poor, tawdry little thing I’ve alwaysbeen; but I’ve been proud—yes, very proud—like every woman who is square and honest. But now——! No, if I could pull myself up again, I’d do it, for mother’s sake and ’Tina’s; but never, never, never, after last night, could I accept a favour from my husband!

Fraser.

I hear from your aunt that Mrs. Allingham—this man Allingham’s wife!—generously offers to take you under her wing. Is it so?

Theophila.

[Leaning back, her eyes closed.] Aunt brought me a message to that effect from Mrs. Allingham this morning.

Fraser.

What answer did you send?

Theophila.

None; I am going to see Mrs. Allingham.

Fraser.

I think I understand.

Theophila.

Understand?

Fraser.

This lady’s proposal is, after all, one worth considering. It would be a double triumph for you to ride back into the shabby little circle you regard as “society” in her coach. It would be a triumph overmein the first place—overme!

Theophila.

[Opening her eyes and speaking calmly in a subdued voice.] Alec [glancing over her shoulder], is aunt out there? [He goes to the window and looks out.

Fraser.

Yes.

Theophila.

Call her, please.

[He disappears. She rises feebly, and, with an effort, pushes away the chairFraserhas placed at the head of the settee; then she sinks into it.Mrs. Cloysenters at the window withFraser,and comes toTheophila.

Mrs. Cloys.

My dear——?

Theophila.

Will you ask Mrs. Allingham to be good enough to come to me?

Mrs. Cloys.

You are equal to seeing her?

Theophila.

Yes—at once.

Mrs. Cloys.

Why are you sitting here?

Theophila.

[Irritably.] Oh, I am not going to appear quite a wreck before Mrs. Allingham. Find her, aunt.

[Mrs. Cloysgoes out.Fraserbrings a foot-stool toTheophilaand places it under her feet. She nods in acknowledgment.

Fraser.

[Sarcastically.] You must not forget to thank Mrs. Allingham for taking her place by your bedside all last night.

Theophila.

[Indignantly.] Ah, it was shameful of aunt to have allowed that! She hid herself behind the curtains and peeped at me. She saw how ugly I was! I’ll never forgive aunt for permitting it! Oh——!

Fraser.

[Glancing at the door.] Sssh——!

[He walks away asOliveenters, followed byMrs. Cloys.Oliveis dressed as in the previous Act. Upon encounteringFrasershe slightly inclines her head to him, with eyes averted; he bows stiffly. She then comes and stands beforeTheophila.

Olive.

[ToTheophila.] I—I hope you are better, Mrs. Fraser.

Theophila.

Thank you, yes. [Turning her head.] Don’t go yet, aunt—nor you, Alec. [ToOlive.] Mrs. Allingham, my husband comes to me to-day asking me to go back home with him, in order that, after all, we may commence together to fight the “shabby little circle” towhich I have, I dare say, attached a great deal too much importance. Well, I’ve declined to go back—declined. But Mr. Fraser has an idea that I’m treating him spitefully because I’ve found a powerful friend in you.

Olive.

Mrs. Fraser, I—I do beg of you not to act hastily, and without good advice. Of course, you are angry, justifiably angry——

Theophila.

Ah——!

Olive.

But pray take time to reflect. Oh, I entreat you to try—in a little while, when you feel less bitter—to try to see your way clear to—to——

Theophila.

To do what?

Olive.

To accept both Mr. Fraser’s help—and mine.

[Theophilapartly rises, as if about to make some indignant response, but restrains herself.

Theophila.

I—I can only make the same reply to you, Mrs. Allingham, as I have just made to my husband—thank you, no.

Olive.

You cannot right yourself in the eyes of people without Mr. Fraser’s assistance or mine. And especially mine! You couldn’t accomplish it thoroughly withhishelp alone; it would be impossible.

Theophila.

Very well then, it’s impossible.

Olive.

[ToFraser.] Mr. Fraser——[Fraseradvances a few steps.] Perhaps, by-and-bye, you will add your persuasions to mine that your wife will accept me as your ally?

Fraser.

[Stiffly.] Mrs. Allingham, I regret that what you suggest is, so far as I am concerned, quite out of the question.

Olive.

Mrs. Cloys—[Fraserretires asMrs. Cloysapproaches]—I am sureyoucan understand the value of the services I am able to render your niece.

Mrs. Cloys.

Oh, perfectly.

Olive.

Then you will try to induce her——?

Mrs. Cloys.

Ah! you must excuse me, Mrs. Allingham——

Olive.

You will not?

Mrs. Cloys.

I may tell you that I anticipated her rejection of your proposal directly you communicated it to me——

Olive.

Indeed?

Mrs. Cloys.

And I must say—[looking atTheophila]—that I fully sympathise with the—ah—the feelings of——

Olive.

[Rigidly.] Of Mrs. Fraser?

Mrs. Cloys.

[Politely.] Of Mrs. Fraser. [Quaifeenters, and advances a few steps towardsMrs. Cloys,who speaks to him quickly.] Has——?

[She breaks off, looking at him significantly.

Quaife.

Yes, ma’am.

Mrs. Cloys.

[ToFraser.] Mr. Fraser, may I trouble you to follow me? I have something to say to you. [Quaifewithdraws. ToTheophila.] I must run away for a few moments. Shall I send Justina to you?

Olive.

[Quickly.] Oh, Mrs. Fraser, let me speak a few words to you while no one is present——!

Theophila.

Certainly.

[Mrs. Cloyspasses her hand overTheophila’shead caressingly, then hurries to the door.

Mrs. Cloys.

Mr.Fraser——

[She goes out,Fraseraccompanying her.Olivelooks round the room, then sits, slowly and deliberately upon the settee.

Olive.

[After a little pause.] Forgive me.

Theophila.

Forgive you——!

Olive.

Oh, do make the effort!

Theophila.

I can’t understand your asking for my forgiveness, wanting it.

Olive.

Endeavour to understand me. I don’t remember that it ever struck me, when you and I were—friends, that your disposition was a jealous one.

Theophila.

No?

Olive.

It isn’t, is it?

Theophila.

I couldn’t go the lengths you’ve gone, from jealousy, if you mean that.

Olive.

[Sadly.] Ah——!

Theophila.

Oh, don’t you think that enough has been done in the name of jealousy? For months and months it has made a hell of my life, your jealousy. People have seen me walking about looking merry; but what sort of days and nights does a woman really spend with the Divorce Court looming before her? “AllinghamversusAllingham, Fraser intervening!” that’s the air you’ve kept me dancing to since—goodness knows when the music first struck up! And now I’m to forgive you, offhand, because—you happen to have a jealous disposition!

Olive.

[Falteringly.] You were sustained all the time by the knowledge that you were an innocent, persecuted woman——

Theophila.

Much good did my innocence do me yesterday when they gave me “the benefit of the doubt,” and sent me out of the Court ruined!

Olive.

It does you this much good—that nowIam satisfied as to your innocence I am prepared to serve you humbly and faithfully. Oh, Mrs. Fraser, I would be a true friend to you this time! [Rising and standing beforeTheophila.] Come, forgive me!

Theophila.

[In a low voice.] Well, for the months of awful trouble you gave me, and for those two days in the Divorce Court—yes, you’re welcome to my forgiveness for all that. [Her voice hardening, her hands clenched.] But not for last night!

Olive.

You mustn’t make me wholly responsible for what took place last night.

Theophila.

I do hold you responsible. Why—they’ve told methe story—I know that, when my note to your husband was handed to him, he wanted to send a message to me excusing himself from meeting me. Did you let the message go? There was I waiting out in the lane, my people in this room, all in a fidget to hurry to me and take me away. Did you let them come to me? No, you huddled them out of the way, and then drew your husband into your plot, and trapped me in here. I was the poor rat, half dead, who had been well worried, but who’d a little life still left; so you had me in, panting, and got another few minutes’ sport out of me——

Olive.

[Her hands to her brows.] Oh, don’t, don’t! Mrs. Fraser, at any rate, it was through last night that you cleared yourself——

Theophila.

[Rising, and speaking fiercely.] Cleared myself! Yes, and a pretty price you were the cause of my paying for “clearing myself!” Do you think I’d have willingly cleared myself at that cost? Ah, no decent woman could afford it! Cleared myself!

Olive.

You were mad when you——. You were mad.

Theophila.

You know better! I was sane enough! But mad, or sane, or—or whatever I was, I shall never think the same of myself again, never feel quite the same again. And to-day I’m to forgive you for it! No, if you came to me and told me that you’d just saved the life of some one dear to me, I couldn’t forgive you for last night. I couldn’t! No woman could!

[Olivewalks away and stands, looking out into the garden.

Olive.

[After a pause, speaking in a hard voice.] Excuse me for saying so, Mrs. Fraser—but I think you regard your share in the affair of last night more as a schoolgirl would regard it, than as a woman; rather sentimentally, in fact.

Theophila.

Thank God, I’m able to dothat! Sentimentally?Well, ninety-nine women out of a hundred are kept fresh and sweet by nothing better than mere sentiment. [Sitting upon the settee, a little faintly.] Where’s ’Tina?

[Oliveturns and comes to her; she is wiping the tears from her eyes.

Olive.

You know, if you wished to have your revenge on me, you have it.

Theophila.

Revenge? I?

Olive.

[Turning fromTheophila,her hand playing with the arm of the chair.] The services I thought you would allow me to render you are the only means by which I could hope to get my husband to overlook my behaviour of last night. He won’t speak to me to-day.

Theophila.

I’m sorry.

Olive.

After what has happened my one hold on him isthrough the reparation I could make you. And now—and now—you—— [Throwing herself into the chair, crying.] Oh, it’s like begging to you!

Theophila.

Notwithstanding—all you’ve done—you’re anxious to make it up with your husband, aren’t you?

Olive.

[In a whisper.] You needn’t ask; you’ve heard all about it.

Theophila.

Do you think that, with your nature, you could ever be happy with him, and make him happy?

Olive.

I—I don’t—think of that.

Theophila.

Well, I can’t say anything more than—I’m sorry.

[Oliverises, and, with faltering steps, comes to her.

Olive.

Excuse me being so persistent. [Piteously.] Youwon’t accept my help? [Theophila,leaning back with closed eyes, shakes her head.] You won’t even—try?

Theophila.

[Faintly, almost inaudibly.] It would be of no use; I couldn’t.

Olive.

[Drawing a long breath, her arms falling by her side.] Ah!

Theophila.

I’m tired. Tell my sister——

Olive.

[Goes to the upper door, opens it, and looks out.] Oh, Quaife, where is Miss Emptage?

Quaife.

[Out of sight.] In the dining-room, ma’am. Shall I——?

Olive.

[Closing the door.] No, thank you. [She goes to the dining-room door, and opens it slightly, without withdrawing theportière.] Miss Emptage!

Justina.

[From the dining-room.] Here!

Olive.

Your sister wishes to return to her room.

[Olivewalks away and stands outside the window, asJustinaenters and goes toTheophila.

Justina.

[RaisingTheophila.] Where’s aunt? Why have they left you alone?

Theophila.

I asked them to.

Justina.

[Lowering her voice.] Withher?

Theophila.

Yes.

Justina.

Tell me——!

Theophila.

By-and-bye. Take me away. [Olivedisappears.

Justina.

[Walking withTheophilatowards the upper door.] Oh, we’ve had such a time in there! Uncle Fletcher’s been boring our heads off on the subject of the blessings of Arbitration; and at last, Jack, who is in a vile temper, almost jumped down his throat.

[They go out, whereuponJohnis seen to slightly push aside the portière and peep into the room. Satisfied that the room is empty, he enters quickly, closes the door behind him emphatically, and throws himself on to the settee with a groan of weariness.Olivereturns; she is about to pass the window, but seeingJohnshe enters quietly, takes a chair and sits. They remain looking at each other for a little while without speaking.

Olive.

Good morning, John—well, afternoon.

John.

Er—Have you lunched?

Olive.

No.

John.

[Looking towards the dining-room door.] It’s in there.

Olive.

[Drily.] Thanks.

John.

I—I’m sorry I can’t offer to wait on you——

Olive.

Oh, pray don’t——!

John.

But Portwood is still eating. I’ve been rude to him.

Olive.

Indeed?

John.

[Rising and walking about.] I believe all these people will drive me crazy! I don’t know where to get to for them.

Olive.

You are in your own house. Need you seek to avoid any of them?

John.

Well, I’m not particularly desirous, for instance, of another encounter with Mr. Fraser.

Olive.

Another. Have you——?

John.

Yes. I’ve been rude to him.

Olive.

Oh! Mrs. Cloys——?

John.

She treats me as a schoolmistress would treat a very small boy in disgrace.

Olive.

Miss Emptage——!

John.

Lectures me and patronises me till my blood curdles. Just now I was almost—well, I hope not——

Olive.

Rude to her?

John.

Yes. And then this maddening old man——? I can’t endure it! Even my servants——

Olive.

Servants?

John.

A minute or two ago I was trying to escape from the dining-room by passing through the kitchen, and I came upon my cook and Mrs. Fraser’s maid discussing me over a bowl of chicken broth. Mrs. Quaife—my cook——! I heard her distinctly! “I never thought Mr. Allingham was that sort of a gentleman,” she said.

Olive.

Whatsort of a gentleman?

John.

I don’t know. I got away.

Olive.

H’m, I think I should have been rude toher.

John.

And there are two more relatives of Mrs. Fraser’s to arrive yet. [Throwing himself into a chair.] The boy has gone to town to fetch the mother. The mother!

Olive.

[Rising and walking towards the door.] At any rate, I can rid you of one unwelcome guest. [He looks up at her.] I am going, John, directly.

John.

Going home?

Olive.

Going back to my flat.

John.

[Rising.] Then there is no longer any necessity for me to stick in this wretched cottage.

Olive.

I’m sorry to have been the cause——

John.

Of course, I could not leave you here among your—your——

Olive.

Enemies.

John.

Well, hardly friends. Then Mrs. Fraser is well enough to travel?

Olive.

I don’t know, I’m sure.

John.

You’ve relinquished your intention of devoting yourself to her?

Olive.

No, I haven’t relinquished it. Mrs. Fraser will have nothing to do with me.

John.

She has said so?

Olive.

[Sitting upon the settee.] Oh, yes, she has said so.

John.

What reason does she give?

Olive.

She will not receive help from the woman who—who brought that humiliation on her last night. I believe, if she was starving, she wouldn’t take a crust from my hand.

John.

She returns to her husband, I suppose?

Olive.

I think not. She is in the mood to accept nothing from anybody.

John.

[Sitting with his head bowed.] Wounded—wounded.

Olive.

[With a slight shrug of the shoulders.] She’s a sentimental, romantic little person, I find. Well——!

John.

Ha, we didn’t calculate for this when we arranged our ingenious little plan last night! We were to restore Mrs. Fraser’s name and position to her untarnished; we were to set poor little Humpty-Dumptyup again by—when was it?—Goodwood week; all in return for your ten minutes’ fun in there! We were damned generous, you and I—only we reckoned without Mrs. Fraser! [Starting up.] And so, you see, after all, we’ve had our fun, and enjoyed it, and yet pay nothing for it! But, at the same time, we mustn’t forget that in this world everything has to be paid for by somebody. By Jove, there’s no doubt as to who stands treat for last night! Mrs. Fraser pays! that poor little, broken-down woman pays!Shepays——!

Olive.

[Rising.] You blame me beyond all reason! I’ll not put up with it! Why didn’t you call her aunt into the room last night when you saw Mrs. Fraser becoming wilder and wilder? [Walking away.] Pah! you appeared moonstruck! moonstruck!

John.

I thought I might save her from meeting her people while she was so unlike herself. You know I was helpless——[She approaches; he seizes her by the shoulders.] You—you reproach me! Why didn’t you strike that bell sooner? why didn’t you strike it sooner? [Leaving her, and throwing himself into a chair.] Ah, you weren’t capable even of that!

Olive.

[Tearfully, rubbing her shoulders.] Oh, John——!

John.

I beg your pardon.

Olive.

[Going to him slowly, leaning against the balustrade.] John——

John.

Well?

Olive.

I will confess it to you—I didn’t strike the bell at all.

John.

You—did not?

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