Chapter 5

Theophila.

Play-acting——!

Fraser.

Yes, before I go among people, to try to convincethem, I have to try to convincemyself.

Theophila.

What!

Fraser.

[Sitting.] People! people!

[There is silence; she slowly retreats from him.

Theophila.

You—you think there’s some—some truth in it then? [He makes no answer.] It’s true, you believe?

Fraser.

I want time—I want time——

Theophila.

Time?

Fraser.

To shake it off.

Theophila.

To shake it off?

Fraser.

It was awful in Court.

Theophila.

[Partly to herself.] Awful.

Fraser.

As you say, her counsel twisted and turned everything about so. When he cross-examined you to-day, and made you say ... and then the judge ... the benefit of the doubt ... awful....

Theophila.

[Under her breath.] I see.

Fraser.

[Rising.] Yes—that we must go away and be, quietly, together. For the present, there’s something even more important than regaining the good opinion of others—there isourselves. Will you come back to Lennox Gardens now, or shall I return for you by-and-bye?

Theophila.

[Mechanically.] By-and-bye.

Fraser.

[Going to the door.] Nine o’clock? or ten?

Theophila.

Nine or ten.

Fraser.

Which?

Theophila.

It doesn’t matter. [He goes out. For a few moments she remains quite still; then she rouses herself, and, with a blank look, wanders about, her arms moving restlessly. Suddenly she presses her hands to her brow and sinks into a chair, with a low half-cry, half-moan.] Oh! oh! [After a short burst of crying she examines her wedding-ring, removes it from her finger, and giving a little laugh, flings it on to the settee. Then she rises, and with an air of determination goes to the writing-table.] Very well! very well!

[She sits before the writing-table and writes rapidly. At intervals she utters an exclamation; then sings as she writes. The doors are opened, andHortonenters.

Horton.

[Collecting the tea-cups.] Beg pardon, ma’am.

Theophila.

[Writing.] Mr. Fraser has gone out, hasn’t he?

Horton.

He have, ma’am.

[Hortonplaces the tea-cups on the tea-tray, lifts up the tray, and is about to carry it out.

Theophila.

Oh, Horton, what became of the bonnet and cape I came in with?

Horton.

[Looking off.] Mrs. Emptage lay them down in the next room. Here they are, ma’am.

Theophila.

Just give them to me. [Hortongoes off and immediately returns with the bonnet, cape, and gloves.] Thanks.

[Hortonarranges the cape over the back of a chair, places the bonnet and gloves on the table, and withdraws. Having finished her letter and addressed an envelope, she rises and searches for her wedding-ring; finding this she slips it into the letter, and fastens the envelope. Then, keeping the letter in her hand, she puts on her bonnetand cape, standing before the mirror.Sir Fletcherenters, looking disturbed and dejected;Claudefollows, downcast, silent, and morose, and walks about aimlessly, staring at the carpet.

Sir Fletcher Portwood.

[DiscoveringTheophila.] Oh, going out, my dear?

Theophila.

I want a little walk—alone.

Sir Fletcher Portwood.

To walk it off, eh? [Ruffling his hair.] I find I can’t walk it off; I’ve been into the Euston Road; I don’t think I can be well. Fortunately, I have a box of most remarkable pills at my chambers. They are prepared by Gilliburton of 88 Piccadilly. Don’t forget the number—eighty-eight. Two eights. That’s my system of artificial memory. Eighty-eight—two eights.

Theophila.

[Going to him, and kissing him, leaning across the settee.] Good-bye, uncle.

Sir Fletcher Portwood.

We shall meet again by-and-bye, dear. I shall dine here quietly, after all.

Theophila.

[Going toClaude,kissing him.] Good-bye.

Claude.

Oh, you’ll see me at dinner too.

Theophila.

[Handing him the letter.] Give that to ’Tina, will you? Claude—take care of mother.

Claude.

[Mildly surprised.] Take care of mother!

Theophila.

Yes, be a good boy, and look after her. Ta, ta!

She goes out.

Claude.

Boy!myboyhood is long past. [Pinching the envelope.] There’s a coin in this—money.

Sir Fletcher Portwood.

[Sitting on the settee, fatigued.] Eh? Don’t forget, Claude—Gilliburton. Think of Gilly, corruption of Gilbert. Gilbert, a well-known sculptor—or writer; I forget which. Burton, man I jobbed two horses from—bays—Burton. There you have Gilly and Burton—Gilliburton. My own system of mnemonics.Memoria technica.

Claude.

It’s not a coin; it’s a ring.

Sir Fletcher Portwood.

[Irritably.] What are you talking about, my boy? You always appear to be masticating some commonplace or other.

[Hortonappears.

Horton.

Beg pardon, Sir Fletcher. Mrs. Cloys wants to wish you good-day, Sir Fletcher. I wasn’t aware where you was, Sir Fletcher.

Claude.

[Giving the letter toHorton.] Miss Justina.

[Hortonwithdraws.

Sir Fletcher Portwood.

[Rising.] I’d quite forgotten your aunt. Do, please, look unconcerned, Claude. Let her see that men can display courage and decision at such moments.

[Humming an air, he unbuttons his coat and throws it back, sticking his thumbs in his waistcoat pockets. Some newspapers fall from the breast of his coat; he is hastily picking them up whenMrs. Cloysenters.

Sir Fletcher Portwood.

[Meekly.] You are going, Harriet?

Mrs. Cloys.

Fletcher, you’ve been out to buy evening papers!

Sir Fletcher Portwood.

[Putting them into his tail pockets.] The malicious utterances of the judge are not in these editions.

Mrs. Cloys.

I thought you never——!

Sir Fletcher Portwood.

It is somebody’s duty to overlook the reports of this case. I see that one vile placard announces, “Lively cross-examination of Mrs. Fraser.”

Mrs. Cloys.

Lively!

Sir Fletcher Portwood.

[Producing a newspaper.] Here’s a rag which dares to give illustrations—“Sketches in Court.”

Mrs. Cloys.

Have you contrived to get among them?

Sir Fletcher Portwood.

[Opening the paper.] I happen tobeamong them. But the fool of an artist has completely missed my salient points——

Justinaruns in withTheophila’sletter, opened, and the wedding-ring.

Justina.

Aunt! oh, I say! What do you think? Theo’s gone!

Sir Fletcher Portwood.

She’s gone out for a walk. [ToMrs. Cloys.] Here it is. That’s from an old photograph; I don’t wear that sort of collarnow.

Justina.

[Advancing betweenMrs. CloysandSir Fletcher.] What are you talking about? Look here! [Reading.] “’Tina, hand enclosed to my husband when he comes back for me to-night after dinner.” [Showing the ring.] It’s her wedding-ring. [Reading.] “He believes that what that creature charged me with is true, and wants to take me away and hide me. All is up with me. Oh, those pipers at Locheen are playing into my brain again. Good-bye all.—Theo.P.S.—Jack Allingham would not treat a woman so like dirt.”

Mrs. Cloys.

[Agitatedly.] I can’t hear you. [Taking the letter fromJustina.] Let me see it.

Justina.

What shall we do? We must do something. Uncle!

Sir Fletcher Portwood.

[Confused.] We must certainly do something, at once. Er—itisher wedding-ring, I suppose?

Justina.

[Impatiently.] Oh——! Aunt!

Sir Fletcher Portwood.

[EncounteringClaude.] Don’t stand there, Claude, looking precisely like an owl!

Mrs. Cloys.

[Returning the letter toJustina.] Jump into a cab; you must take that to Mr. Fraser.

Justina.

[Hurrying to the door.] All right. [Pausing.] What shall I do if I don’t find him at home?

Sir Fletcher Portwood.

If, if, if! Why throw obstacles?

Justina.

I’m not throwing them. I merely say, what if he’s out, or hasn’t gone back to Lennox Gardens at all?

Sir Fletcher Portwood.

This is a moment for action!

Claude.

[Sitting at the writing-table.] Ha, ha! what a hideous mockery the whole world is! Life——!

Sir Fletcher Portwood.

Let us have none of your sickening optimism, sir! and in the presence of your aunt and sister.

Mrs. Cloys.

[Holding out her hand for the letter.] Show it to me again. [Justinabrings the letter toMrs. Cloys,who begins reading.] “Hand enclosed to my husband when he comes back for me to-night after dinner.”

Justina.

Ten or eleven o’clock. Where, on earth, will she be by ten or eleven o’clock?

Sir Fletcher Portwood.

[Going to the door.] I’ll tell her mother——!

Justina.

[Intercepting him.] For goodness’ sake, not yet. Mother’s no use.

Mrs. Cloys.

[Reading.] “P.S.—Jack Allingham would not treat a woman so like dirt.” Jack Allingham——[Suddenly] Justina! [Justinaagain comes to her.] There’s only one very great danger.

Justina.

Why, you don’t think Theo would—take poison—or——!

Mrs. Cloys.

No, I mean a worse danger than that. [Pointing to a sentence in the letter.] That one.

Justina.

[Reading.] “Jack Allingham would not treat a woman——” [Staring atMrs. Cloys.] Oh——!

Mrs. Cloys.

This Mr. Allingham? Exceedingly kind and gentle to women—is that the class of man he belongs to?

Justina.

Y—yes.

Mrs. Cloys.

Suppose—suppose this wretched girl lets her mind dwell too much just now on Mr. Allingham’s—kindness!

Justina.

Aunt!

Mrs. Cloys.

[Again returning the letter toJustina—with decision.] Where does he live? Where is he likely to be found?

Justina.

It’s in the Red Book. [Pointing to the writing-table.] Claude——!

Sir Fletcher Portwood.

Bring me the Red Book! [Claudefinds the Red Book; he andSir Fletcher Portwoodsearch for the address.] Allingham—A—A—A—[finding the letter] A!

Claude.

You’re looking at “Ashley Gardens”——

[Mrs. CloysandJustinajoinSir Fletcher PortwoodandClaudeimpatiently.

Justina.

I know it’s there. He went into lodgings when he parted from her. And he has a little cottage in Surrey——

Claude.

[Finding the name.] “Allingham——!”

Sir Fletcher Portwood.

[Taking the book from him.] “Allingham, John Crawshaw, Esq., 11 Bentham Street, W., and Turf and Garrick Clubs.—The Lichens, Epsom, Surrey.”

[Mrs. Cloystakes the book fromSir Fletcher.She tears out the page and throws the book upon the settee.

Mrs. Cloys.

[Folding the extracted page, and slipping it into her glove.] Fletcher, Claude, you had better come with me. I may want you both. Claude, whistle a four-wheeled cab. You hear me!

[Claudegoes out.

Sir Fletcher Portwood.

But, Harriet, do you seriously, soberly, entertain the notion?

Mrs. Cloys.

Get your hat! [Sir Fletchergoes out.Mrs. Cloysturns toJustina.] Telegraph to the Bishop of St. Olpherts, The Palace, St. Olpherts: “Detained here to-night. Return, D.V., forenoon to-morrow. Get to bed early. Affectionate messages.—H.”

[The sound of a cab-whistle, twice or thrice repeated, is heard.

Justina.

“Detained here to-night. Return forenoon to-morrow——”

Mrs. Cloys.

“D.V.”

Justina.

“D.V. Go to bed early——”

Mrs. Cloys.

Say, “Be in bed by eleven.”

Justina.

Yes. “Love——”

Mrs. Cloys.

No, no—“Affectionate messages.”

Justina.

“Affectionate messages.—H.”

Mrs. Cloys.

Thank you.

Justina.

Aunt! When I see Alec Fraser, am I to say anything—about what you are doing?

Mrs. Cloys.

For mercy’s sake, don’t put any idea into his head that isn’t there already! Not a word to a soul——

[Claudeappears in the doorway, hat in hand.

Claude.

Cab, aunt.

Mrs. Cloys.

I’m coming. [Claudewithdraws.] Not a word,except that we’ve gone out, blindly, to try and find her.

Justina.

Wait! you must tell me; do you suspect that Theophila is—guilty?

Mrs. Cloys.

[Looking at her steadily.] Woman, what doyoususpect?

Justina.

[Falteringly.] Then I can’t understand you.

Mrs. Cloys.

Why not, pray?

Justina.

I’ve always taken you for one of those who pick up their skirts and stalk away as far as possible from this kind of thing.

Mrs. Cloys.

Ah, you don’t—[moved]—oh, my dear!

Justina.

What?

Mrs. Cloys.

You don’t know what was really at the bottom of all my quarrels with your mother. I’ve no children. I’d have given the world if Theo had been mine.

Justina.

[A little bitterly.] Theo! Theo!

Mrs. Cloys.

[Taking her by the shoulder, almost shaking her.] You, too! [Kissing her.] Bless you, you’d have been better than nothing!

[She goes out.Justinastands, her lips parted, staring into space.

END OF THE FIRST ACT.

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