Chapter 13

Olive.

I was under the impression I had stopped the clock before I sat down to listen, but in my agitation I must have shaken it and started it again. [Kneeling besideJohn’schair.] The clock struck of its own accord.

John.

And you sat there, drinking in every word; and when the poor creature had cleared herself, andsatisfiedyou, still you made no effort——! [Rising.] Oh!

Olive.

[Seizing his coat.] John, Icouldn’tmove from that curtain! I was a wretch! Pity me! Icouldn’tstir! [Johnwalks away. She rises from the ground and sits.] Oh, get me a carriage of some sort to take me to the station.

John.

[Going towards the bell.] I’ll tell Quaife. [Pausing, looking at her.] I don’t know—I can’t imagine—how you are going to get through your life——

Olive.

Oh, please! I’ve been lectured by Mrs. Fraser, Oh, there are heaps of solitary women in the world; some people envy them. [He sits upon the settee.] Now that—now that—the chances of our coming together again have fallen through, I shall be off out of London at once. Where can one go to at this time of the year?

John.

[Abstractedly.] Eh? Er—it’s a bit early for most places.

Olive.

I’m going to Aix in August.

John.

[Looking up.] You are?

Olive.

Oh! Why, didyouthink of——?

John.

Yes. But it doesn’t matter.

Olive.

Oh, I don’t want to interfere with your——

John.

Aix is a pretty big place.

Olive.

Where will you stay?

John.

I’ve been told, the “Splendide”——

Olive.

Oh——!

John.

What?

Olive.

I can easily put up elsewhere.

John.

You needn’t. I dare say the “Splendide” is quite large enough for two people who—who——

Olive.

Who want to keep far apart. [Rising, and going towards the door, pausing by the head of the settee.] How ridiculous that reconciliation of ours last night! Why, how many weeks should we have been together?

John.

[His head resting upon his hands.] Not many—not many, I’m afraid.

Olive.

Weeks! Days, I should have said—or hours. “Heaven have mercy upon us! we’re reconciled!” Do you remember—last night——?

John.

Ha! yes.

Olive.

“Heaven have mercy upon us!” Ha, ha!

John.

Heaven have mercy on us!

Olive.

[Wiping the tears from her eyes.] I—I’ll go and put my bonnet on. [He rises, and she holds out her hand.] Good-bye, John.

John.

[Taking her hand, looking away.] Good-bye.

Olive.

[Suddenly drawing back.] Oh——!

John.

What?

Olive.

[Breathlessly.] Oh, yes——!

John.

Olive?

Olive.

Ah—h—h—h, you’ll find plenty of pretty women at Aix——!

Quaifeenters, showing inMrs. EmptageandClaude.Quaiferetires.Mrs. Emptageis in a bright and fashionable morning dress.

Mrs. Emptage.

[ToOlive.] Mrs. Allingham——! [ToClaude.] Claude, keep by me. My legs are all of a tremble. Where is my daughter, Mrs. Fraser? Take me to her. I am very ill indeed; I fancy this affair has affected my heart——

John.

Pray sit down for a moment.

Mrs. Emptage.

[Sitting down.] We used to be friends, Mr. Allingham—great friends; now I wonder you can look me in the face. [Panting.] I have heard everything from Claude. I am ashamed—I must say it—I am ashamed of you and your wife.

[Olivemakes a movement, as if to go;Johndetains her.

John.

[ToOlive.] No, no; I don’t think we’ll run away and hide any more. [Turning toMrs. Emptage.] But I hope that Mrs. Emptage will be kind enough to apply to me, alone, any harsh expressions she may care to make use of——

Sir Fletcherenters.

Sir Fletcher Portwood.

[Advancing.] Ah, Muriel——!

Mrs. Emptage.

[Rising, throwing her arms roundSir Fletcher’sneck.] Oh, Fletcher, Fletcher! I’ve hardly closed my eyes all night!

claude.

May I ask what has gone on during my absence?

Sir Fletcher Portwood.

Duringyourabsence——!

Mrs. Emptage.

Is Alec here?

Sir Fletcher Portwood.

Yes, the family gathering is complete.

Mrs. Emptage.

Does Theo return to Lennox Gardens? Has an arrangement of any sort been come to?

Sir Fletcher Portwood.

None that I know of. I seem to be powerless.

Mrs. CloysandFraserenter.

Claude.

[Meeting them.] ’Ullo, aunt! ’ullo, Fraser!

[Mrs. Emptagetotters toMrs. Cloys.Clauderetires.Johnwalks away to the fireplace.Oliveis now seated upon the settee.

Mrs. Emptage.

[EmbracingMrs. Cloys.] Oh, Harriet, I am very poorly; I don’t think I have had two hours’ rest all night. [Going toFraserand kissing him.] Alec, you will prove a generous, good fellow—of that I am sure. Poor Theo has behaved very indiscreetly. I really believe my heart has been upset by it all——

Mrs. Cloys.

I have something important to say, Muriel. Pray sit down and be quiet.

Mrs. Emptage.

[In a flutter.] I know, I know. Unless I can be kept quiet it will be very serious for me. [In her agitation, she is about to sit upon the settee besideOlive.] Oh, dear, what am I doing! [Moving away, she stops, pointing to the library.] Great heavens! was that the room——?

Mrs. Cloys.

Sssh! [Mrs. Emptagesits again.Frasergoes to the window and stands there, apart, his back turned to those in the room.] What I have to say concerns the future Of Theophila——[There is a movement on thepart ofJohnandOlive.] Please, let nobody go. All who are here are interested in the future of Mrs. Fraser—[looking atOlive]—and I believe sympathetically interested. [Sitting.] In fact, I want it to be known that a very happy arrangement has been arrived at.

Mrs. Emptage.

[ToSir Fletcher.] Fletcher, you saidnoarrangement had been arrived at.

Sir Fletcher.

I have not been consulted, Harriet.

Mrs. Cloys.

I did not consider it necessary, Fletcher. There was a question whether the plan I had in viewcouldbe carried out.

Sir Fletcher.

Then you—you have constituted yourself a—a sort of—arbitrator——

Mrs. Cloys.

As you say, a sort of arbitratrix, I suppose.

Sir Fletcher Portwood.

The cloak of pedantry, Harriet, scarcely conceals your want of respect for your brother.

[PassingMrs. Cloys,as if about to quit the room.

Mrs. Cloys.

[Touching his arm.] We’ll all keep our tempers, Fletcher. [He remains.] Yes, the thought came to me during the night—a long, anxious night——

Mrs. Emptage.

Ah, indeed!

Mrs. Cloys.

The thought that I would telegraph to the bishop the very first thing this morning.

Sir Fletcher Portwood.

The bishop!

Mrs. Cloys.

Asking, him to come to me at once.

Sir Fletcher Portwood.

Will he do so?

Mrs. Cloys.

The bishop is goodness and compliance personified. He left St. Olpherts at ten o’clock this morning; he is here.

Sir Fletcher Portwood.

Here!

Mrs. Emptage.

I shall be ashamed to meet him; after my sleepless night my face is so dreadfully lined——!

Mrs. Cloys.

The bishop does not notice the lines in women’s faces. Directly he arrived, I submitted my scheme; in two words, he approved; it will be carried into execution.

Sir Fletcher Portwood.

I do not askwhatscheme.

Mrs. Cloys.

Theophila returns to St. Olpherts at once with us. She will rest there two or three days, by which time I shall have found a suitable house in town——

Mrs. Emptage.

In town——?

Mrs. Cloys.

The bishop and I have not had a house in town for some years. Mr. Fraser kindly sees house agents this afternoon.

Sir Fletcher Portwood.

I would willingly have seen house agents, Harriet. A furnished house——?

Mrs. Cloys.

[Assenting.] For the season—sufficiently large for the dear bishop, myself, and Theophila. Both in London and at St. Olpherts, Theophila will be my close companion. In our little London gaieties she will figure prominently. At certain formal gatherings she will share the responsibilities of the hostess. If any paragraph concerning our doings should creep into the newspaper, it will concern the Bishop of St. Olpherts, Mrs. Cloys,andMrs. Fraser of Locheen. Oh, I don’t think there will be many to wag evil tongues against Mrs. Fraser a few months hence!

[Oliverises, and advances toMrs. Cloys,who stands as she approaches.

Olive.

[In a low voice, toMrs. Cloys.] I’m glad; I’m very glad.

Mrs. Cloys.

That’s right.

Olive.

[Falteringly.] But your—your scheme owes—just a little to my idea, doesn’t it?

Mrs. Cloys.

I admit it. Mrs. Allingham, I am sure you don’t grudge——

Olive.

No, no; indeed I don’t. I—I hope you will succeed—to the utmost——

[She turns away, and goes out by the dining-room door.

Mrs. Emptage.

[Rising, fretfully.] It seems to me everything is taken out of one’s hands——

Sir Fletcher.

In a most unceremonious way——

Mrs. Emptage.

[Glancing atFraser,who is now out in the garden.] What about Alec—Mr. Fraser——?

Sir Fletcher.

Of course, any policy that doesn’t tend to bring my niece and her husband together——

Mrs. Cloys.

Ah, I haven’t told you. Mr. Fraser is to be a frequent—a fairly frequent visitor in London, and at St. Olpherts.

Sir Fletcher.

[With a sniff.] Visitor——

Mrs. Cloys.

And it is further arranged that, in a year’s time, Mr. Fraser comes to us and formally asks Theophila to return to Lennox Gardens.

Mrs. Emptage.

And when he does——?

Mrs. Cloys.

Then we shall see what we shall see.

Sir Fletcher.

[Walking away.] I can’t quite explain my feeling—but I am not sanguine—not at all sanguine.

Mrs. Emptage.

At any rate, in less than twelve months, if I know my girl, she will have grown heartily sick of her solemnsurroundings.surroundings.

Mrs. Cloys.

[Indignantly.] How dare you——! how——! [Checking herself.] Well, suppose shedoesweary of me, good will result even fromthatif it sends her back to her husband.

[The door opens, and theBishop of St. Olphertsenters withTheophilaupon his arm.Justinafollows them, carrying a shawl. The bishop is a mild-looking, very old man.Theophilais dressed in her cape and bonnet, and her face is hidden under her thick veil.

Theophila.

[Coming toMrs. Emptage,and kissing her.] Mother——

[Mrs. Emptagekisses her hastily and, bustles over to theBishop.

Mrs. Emptage.

Ah, Bishop, I can hardly hope you’ll recollect me.

Bishop.

[Vaguely.] Yes, yes, yes.

Mrs. Emptage.

[With a simper.] Muriel, you know.

Bishop.

[Taking her hand.] Mrs. Emptage——!

Mrs. Emptage.

Don’t tell me; I know I’m altered.

Bishop.

Ah, years pass over us.

Mrs. Emptage.

It isn’t that—but I had no sleep last night.

[Sir Fletcheradvances, and grasps theBishop’shand.

Sir Fletcher.

I remember years ago, at the opening of the People’s Library at Stockwell, describing Dr. Cloys as one of the stoutest pillars of our Church——

Bishop.

[Uneasily.] The People’s Library at——?

Sir Fletcher.

Stockwell. To-day I have only to add—may that pillar never grow faint nor weary; mayitsitsback remain equal to the burden imposed upon it; may it continue to plough the stormy seas of scepticism and agnosticism!

Bishop.

[Helplessly.] Er-r—who is it?

Mrs. Cloys.

My brother Fletcher.

Bishop.

Ah, how do you do?

Quaifeappears.

Mrs. Cloys.

Is the fly here?

Quaife.

Yes, ma’am.

[Quaifewithdraws. TheBishopmoves towards the window,Sir Fletcherclosely following him.

Theophila.

[ToMrs. Emptage.] Good-bye, mother dear.

Mrs. Emptage.

[Embracing her.] Oh, good-bye, my darling. I won’t reproach you. If you make a bed you must lie on it. You’ve nearly broken my heart, but I’m only your mother——

Theophila.

Oh, don’t——!

Mrs. Emptage.

[In a whisper.] Mind you see that we visit you constantly in London and St Olpherts!

Theophila.

Yes, yes. [As she is walking away, she seesJohn—who has been standing silently behind the settee, his back turned to those in the room—and she says to the others.] One moment. [She comes down, looking atJohn.] Mr. Allingham. [He approaches her slowly. After a pause she says in a low voice.] Oh, Jack, how could you? [He bows his head, making no reply.] Well—for auld lang-syne——[She holds out her hand; he takes it, but releases it quickly. She turns to go, then pauses.] Where’s your wife? [He looks towards the dining-room door. She hesitates for a moment, then, goes out quickly by that door.]

Mrs. Cloys.

[Looking round.] Theophila—Theophila——

John.

[Watching the door.] She will be here in a moment; she is with my wife.

Sir Fletcher Portwood.

[His voice rising.] My dear bishop, it is my view of life, and the observation has some theological bearing, that the devil almost invariably appears to women in the form of Impulse. In saying this, I am perhaps on the verge of a truism——

Bishop of St. Olpherts.

No, no, no.

Theophilare-enters; her veil is raised.

Theophila.

[As she passesJohn,lowering her veil.] It’s all right.

[There is a hubbub of talk asTheophilaand her relatives go out at the upper door.

Mrs. Emptage.

You will need a warm wrap, Theo.

Justina.

I have one here, mother.

Mrs. Cloys.

Now, Bishop——

Sir Fletcher Portwood.

Is the carriage closed?

Bishop of St. Olpherts.

I hope not.

Sir Fletcher Portwood.

You shall run no risk, my dear bishop——

Mrs. Emptage.

Claude, come to the gate. Give me your arm, Alec——

[The talk ceases.Johnis alone. After a pause he goes out into the garden and stands looking off towards the left, as if watching the departing carriage.Oliveenters slowly and sadly; she sits upon the settee, covering her eyes with her hand.Johnre-enters the room. SeeingOlive,he remains where he is for a moment or two irresolutely; then he comes down to her, sits beside her and takes her hand.

THE END.

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