0113m
[Coming to her, and embracing her fervently.] Oh, ducky, ducky, ducky! oh, but what a storm!
Hush! how wet you are! [Shaking hands with Gadd] Ferdinand—[crossing to Colpoys and shaking hands with him] Augustus—[shaking hands with Tom] Tom-Wrench—
[To Charles.] Be so kind as to put my umbrella on the landing, will you? Oh, thank you very much, I'm sure.
[Charles withdraws with the umbrella. Gadd and Colpoys shake the rain from their hats on to the carpet and furniture.]
[Quietly, to Rose.] It's a shame to come down on you in this way. But they would do it, and I thought I'd better stick to 'em.
Gadd.
[Who is a little flushed and unsteady.] Ha! I shall remember this accursed evening.
Oh, Ferdy——!
Hush! you must be quiet. Everybody has gone to bed, and I—I'm not sure I'm allowed to receive visitors——
Oh!
Then we are intruders?
I mean, such late visitors.
[Colpoys has taken off his coat, and is shaking it vigorously.]
Stop it, Augustus! ain't I wet enough? [To Rose.] Yes, it is latish, but I so wanted to inform you—here—[bringing Gadd forward] allow me to introduce —my husband.
Oh! no!
[Laughing merrily.] Yes, ha, ha, ha!
Sssh, sssh, sssh!
I forgot. [To Gadd.] Oh, darling Ferdy, you're positively soaked! [To Rose.] Do let him take his coat off, like Gussy——
[Jealously.] 'Vonia, not so much of the Gussy!
There you are, flying out again I as if Mr. Colpoys wasn't an old friend!
Old friend or no old friend——
[Diplomatically.] Certainly, take your coat off, Ferdinand.
[Gadd joins Colpoys; they spread out their coats upon the couch.]
[Feeling Tom's coat sleeve.] And you?
[After glancing at the others—quietly.] No, thank you.
.
[Sitting.] Yes, dearie, Ferdy and I were married yesterday.
[Sitting.] Yesterday!
.
Yesterday morning. We're on our honeymoon now. You know, the "Wells" shut a fortnight after you left us, and neither Ferdy nor me could fix anything, just for the present, elsewhere; and as we hadn't put by during the season—you know it never struck us to put by during the season—we thought we'd get married.
Oh, yes.
.
You see, a man and his wife can live almost on what keeps one, rentandceterer; and so, being deeply attached, as I tell you, we went off to church and did the deed. Oh, it will be such a save. [Looking up at Gadd coyly.] Oh, Ferdy———!
[Laying his hand upon her head, dreamily.] Yes, child, I confess I love you—.
Colpoys
[Behind Rose, imitating Gadd.] Child, I confess I adore you.
[Taking Colpoys by the arm and swinging him away from Rose.] Enough of that, Colpoys!
What!
[Rising.] Hush!
[Under his breath.] If you've never learnt how to behave——
Don't you teach behavior, sir, to a gentleman who plays a superior line of business to yourself! [Muttering.] 'Pon my soul! rum start!
[Going to Rose.] Of course I ought to have written to you, dear, properly, but you remember the weeks it takes me to write a letter—- [Gadd sits in the chair Avonia has just quitted; she returns and seats herself upon his knee.]And so I said to Ferdy, over tea, "Ferdy, let's spend a bit of our honeymoon' in doing the West End thoroughly, and going and seeing where Rose Trelawny lives." And we thought it only nice and polite to invite Tom Wrench and Gussy——
'Vonia, much less of the Gussy!
[Kissing Gadd.] Jealous boy! [Beaming.] Oh, and we have done the West End thoroughly. There, I've never done the West End so thoroughly in my life! And when we got outside your house I couldn't resist. [Her hand on Gadd's shirt sleeve.] Oh, gracious! I'm sure you'll catch your death, my darling—-!
I think I can get him some wine. [To Gadd.] Will you take some wine, Ferdinand?
[Gadd rises, nearly upsetting Avonia.]
Ferdy!
I thank you. [With a wave of the hand.] Anything, anything——
[To Rose.] Anything that goes with stout, dear.
[At the door, turning to them.] 'Vonia—boys—be very still.
Trust us!
[Rose tiptoes out. Colpoys is now at the card-table, cutting a pack of cards which remains there.]
[To Gadd.] Gadd, I'll see you for pennies.
[Loftily.] Done, sir, with you!
[They seat themselves at the table, and cut for coppers. Tom is walking about, surveying the room.]
[Taking off her hat and wiping it with her handkerchief.] Well, Thomas, what do you think of it?
This is the kind of chamber I want for the first act of my comedy——-
Oh, lor', your head's continually running on your comedy. Half this blessed evening——
I tell you, I won't have doors stuck here, there, and everywhere; no, nor windows in all sorts of impossible places!
Oh, really! Well, when you do get your play accepted, mind you see that Mr. Manager gives you exactly what you ask for—won't you?
You needn't be satirical, if youarewet. Yes, I will I [Pointing to the left.] Windows on the one side [pointing to the right], doors on the other—just where they should be, architecturally. And locks on the doors,real locks, to work; and handles—to turn! [Rubbing his hands together gleefully.] Ha, ha! you wait! wait—!
[Rose re-enters, with a plate of biscuits in her hand, followed by Charles, who carries a decanter of sherry and some wine-glasses.]
Here, Charles——-
[Charles places the decanter and the glasses on the table.]
[Whose luck has been against him, throwing himself, sulkily, onto the couch.] Bah! I'll risk no further stake.
Just because you lose sevenpence in coppers you go on like this!
[Charles, turning from the table, faces Colpoys.]
======== below this needs correction ==
[Tearing his hair, and glaring at Charles wildly.] Ah—h—h, I am ruined! I have lost my all! my children are beggars——!
Ho, ho, ho! he, he, he!
Hush, hush! [Charles goes out laughing. To everybody;]Sherry?
[Rising.] Sherry!
[Avonia, Colpoys; and Gadd gather round the table, and help themselves to sherry and biscuits.]
[To Tom.] Tom, won't you——-?
[Watching Gadd anxiously.] No, thank you. The fact is, we—we have already partaken of refreshments, once or twice during the evening——
[Colpoys and Avonia, each carrying a glass of wine and munching a biscuit, go to the couch, where they sit.]
[Pouring out sherry—singing.] "And let me the canakin clink, clink—-"
[Coming to him.] Be quiet, Gadd!
[Raising his glass.] The Bride!
[Turning, kissing her hand to Avonia.] Yes, yes [Gadd hands Rose his glass; she puts her lips to it.] The Bride!
[She returns the glass to Gadd.]
[Sitting.] My bride!
[Tom, from behind the table, unperceived, takes the decanter and hides it under the table, then sits. Gadd, missing the decanter, contents himself with the biscuits.]
Well, Rose, my darling, we've been talking about nothing but ourselves. How are you getting along here?
Getting along? oh, I—I don't fancy I'm getting along very well, thank you!
Not——!
[His mouth full of biscuit.] Not——!
[Sitting by the card-table.] No, boys; no 'Vonia. The truth is, it isn't as nice as you'd think it. I suppose the Profession had its drawbacks—mother used to say so—but [raising her arms] one could fly. Yes, in Brydon Crescent one was a dirty little London sparrow, perhaps; but here, in this grand square——! Oh, it's the story of the caged bird, over again.
A love-bird, though.
Poor Arthur? yes, he's a dear. [Rising.] But the Gowers—the old Gowers! the Gowers! the Gowers I [She paces the room, beating her hands together. In her excitement, she ceases to whisper, and gradually becomes loud and voluble. The others, following her leady chatter noisily—excepting Tom, who sits thoughtfully, looking before him.]
The ancient Gowers! the venerable Gowers!
You mean, the grandfather——-?
And the aunt—the great-aunt—the great bore of a great-aunt! The very mention of 'em makes something go "tap, tap, tap, tap" at the top of my head.
Oh, I am sorry to hear this. Well, upon my word——!
Would you believe it? 'Vonia—boys—you'll never believe it! I mayn't walk out with Arthur alone, nor see him here alone. I mayn't sing; no, nor sneeze even——
[Shrilly.]Not sing or sneeze!
[Indignantly.] Not sneeze!
No, nor sit on the floor—the floor!
Why, when we shared rooms together, you were always on the floor!
[Producing a pipe, and knocking out the ashes on the heel of his boot.] In Heaven's name, what kind of house can this be!
I wouldn't stand it, would you, Ferdinand?
[Loading his pipe.] Gad, no!
[To Colpoys.] Would you, Gus, dear?
[Under his breath.] Here! not so much of the Gus dear——
[To Colpoys.] Would you?
No, I'm blessed if I would, my darling.
[His pipe in his mouth.] Mr. Colpoys! less of the darling!
[Rising.] Rose, don't you put up with it! [Striking the top of the card-table vigorously.] I say, don't you stand it! [Embracing Rose.] You're an independent girl, dear; they came to you, these people; not you to them, remember.
[Sitting on the couch.] Oh, what can I do? I can't do anything.
Can't you! [Coming to Gadd.] Ferdinand, advise her. You tell her how to——
[Who has risen.] Miss Bunn—Mrs. Gadd, you have been all over Mr. Colpoys this evening, ever since we——
[Angrily, pushing him back into his chair.] Oh, don't be a silly!
Madam!
[Returning to Colpoys.] Gus, Ferdinand's foolish. Come and talk to Rose, and advise her, there's a dear boy——
[Colpoys rises; she takes his arm, to lead him to Rose. At that moment Gadd advances to Colpoys and slaps his face violently.]
Hey——!
Miserable viper!
[The two men close. Tom runs to separate them. Rose rises with a cry of terror. There is a struggle and general uproar. The card-table is overturned, with a crash, and Avonia utters a long and piercing shriek. Then the house-bells are heard ringing violently.]
Oh——! [The combatants part; all look scared. At the door, listening.] They are moving—coming! Turn out the——!
[She turns out the light at the table. The room is in half-light as Sir William enters, cautiously, closely followed by Miss Gower. They are both in dressing-gowns and slippers; Sir William carries a thick stick and his bedroom candle. Rose is standing by a chair; Gadd, Avonia, Colpoys, and Tom are together.]
Miss Trelawny——!
——! [Running behind the screen.] Men!
Who are these people?
[Advancing a step or two.] Some friends of mine who used to be at the "Wells" have called upon me, to inquire how I am getting on.
[Arthur enters, quickly.]
[Looking round.] Oh! Rose——!
[Turning upon him.] Ah—h—h—h! How come you here?
I was outside the house. Charles let me in, knowing something was wrong.
[Peering into his face.] Troubadouring-?
Troubadouring; yes, sir. [To Rose.] Rose, what is this?
[Fiercely.] No, sir, this is my affair. [Placing his candlestick on the table.] Stand aside! [Raising his stick furiously.] Stand aside!
[Arthur moves to the right.]
[Over the screen.] William——
Hey?
Your ankles—-
[Adjusting his dressing-gown.] I beg your pardon. [To Arthur.] Yes, I can answer your question. [Painting his stick, first at Rose, then at the group.] Some friends of that young woman's connected with—the playhouse, have favored us with a visit, for the purpose of ascertaining how she is—getting on. [Touching Gadd's pipe, which is lying at his feet, with the end of his stick.] A filthy tobacco-pipe. To whom does it belong? whose is it?
[Rose picks it up and passes it to Gadd, bravely.]
It belongs to one of my friends.
[Taking Gadd's empty wine-glass and holding it to his nose.] Phu, yes! In brief, a drunken debauch. [To the group.] So ye see, gentlemen—[to Avonia] and you, madam; [to Arthur] and you, sir; you see, all of ye, [sinking into a chair, and coughing from exhaustion] exactly how Miss Trelawny is getting on.
[Over the screen.] William——
What is it?
Your ankles—-
[Leaping to his feet, in a frenzy.] Bah!
Oh, they seem so out of place!
[Flourishing his stick—to the group down L.] Begone! a set of garish, dissolute gypsies! begone!
[Gadd, Avonia, Colpoys, and Wrench gather, the men hastily putting on their coats, etc.]
Where's my umbrella?
A hand with my coat here!
'Pon my soul! London artists——!
We don't want to remain where we're not heartily welcome, I can assure everybody.
Open windows! let in the air!
[To Rose, who is standing above the wreck of the card-table.] Good-bye, my dear——
No, no, 'Vonia. Oh, don't leave me behind you!
Rose.
Oh, I'm very sorry, Arthur. [To Sir William.] Indeed, I am very sorry, Sir William. But you are right—gypsies—gypsies! [To Arthur.] Yes, Arthur, if you were a gypsy, as I am, as these friends o' mine are, we might be happy together. But I've seen enough of your life, my dear boy, to know that I'm no wife for you. I should only be wretched, and would make you wretched; and the end, when it arrived, as it very soon would, would be much as it is to-night-!
[Distractedly.] You'll let me see you, talk to you, to-morrow, Rose?
No, never!
[Sharply.] You mean that?
[Facing him.] Oh, don't be afraid. I give you my word.
[Gripping her hand.] Thank ye. Thank ye.
[Quietly to Arthur.] Mr. Gower, come and see me to morrow——- [He moves away to the door.]
[Turning to Avonia, Gadd, and Colpoys.] I'm ready——
[Coming from behind the screen to the back of the couch.] Not to-night, child! not to-night! where will you go?
[Holding Rose.] To her old quarters in Brydon Crescent. Send her things after her, if you please.
And then——?
Then back to the "Wells" again, Miss Gower! back to the "Wells"——!
The scene represents an apartment on the second floor of Mrs. Mossop's house. The room is of a humbler character than that shown in the first act; but, though shabby, it is neat. On the right is a door, outside which is supposed to be the landing. In the wall at the back is another door, presumably admitting to a further chamber. Down L. there is a fireplace, with a fire burning, and over the mantelpiece a mirror. In the left-hand corner of the room is a small bedstead with a tidily-made bed, which can be hidden by a pair of curtains of some common and faded material, hanging from a cord slung from wall to wall. At the foot of the bedstead stands a large theatrical dress-basket. On the wall, by the head of the bed, are some pegs upon which hang a skirt or two and other articles of attire. On the right, against the back wall, there is a chest of drawers, the top of which is used as a washstand. In front of this is a small screen, and close by there are some more pegs with things hanging upon them. On the right wall, above the sofa, is a hanging bookcase with a few books. A small circular table, with a somewhat shabby cover upon it, stands on the left. The walls are papered, the doors painted stone-color. An old felt carpet is on the floor. The light is that of morning. A fire is burning in the grate.
[Mrs. Mossop, now dressed in a workaday gown, has just finished making the bed. There is a knock at the center door.]
[From the adjoining room.] Rose!
[Giving a final touch to the quilt.] Eh?
Is Miss Trelawny in her room?
No, Mrs. Gadd; she's at rehearsal.
Oh——
[Mrs. Mossop draws the curtains, hiding the bed from view. Avonia enters by the door on the right in a morning wrapper which has seen its best days. She carries a pair of curling-tongs, and her hair is evidently in process of being dressed in ringlets.]
Of course she is; I forgot. There's a call forThe Peddler of Marseilles. Thank Gawd,I'mnot in it. [Singing.] "I'm a great guerrilla chief, I'm a robber and a thief, I can either kill a foe or prig a pocket-handkerchief——"
[Dusting the ornaments on the mantelpiece.] Bless your heart, you're very gay this morning!
It's the pantomime. I'm always stark mad as the pantomime approaches. I don't grudge letting the rest of the company have their fling at other times—but with the panto comesmyturn. [Throwing herself full length upon the sofa gleefully.]Ha, ha, ha! the turn of Avonia Bunn! [__With a change of tone.__] I hope Miss Trelawny won't take a walk up to Highbury, or anywhere, after rehearsal. I want to borrow her gilt belt. My dress has arrived.
[Much interested.] No! has it?
Yes, Mrs. Burroughs is coming down from the theatre at twelve-thirty to see me in it. [Singing. "Any kind of villainy cometh natural to me. So it endeth with a combat and a one, two, three——!"] *
[Surveying the room.] Well, that's as cheerful as I can make things look, poor dear!
* These snatches of song are from "The Miller and His Men," a burlesque mealy-drama, by Francis Talfourd and Henry J. Byron, produced at the Strand Theatre, April 9, 1860.
[Taking a look round, seriously.] It's pretty bright—if it wasn't for the idea of Rose Trelawny having to economize!
Ah—h I
[Rising.] That's what I can't swallow. [Sticking her irons in the fire angrily.] One room! and on the second floor! [Turning to Mrs. Mossop.] Of course, Gadd and me are one-room people too—and on the same floor; but then Gadd is so popularoutof the theatre, Mrs. Mossop—he's obliged to spend such a load of money at the "Clown"——
[Who has been dusting the bookcase, coming to the table.] Mrs. Gadd, dearie, I'm sure I'm not in the least inquisitive; no one could accuse me of it—but I should like to know just one thing.
[Testing her irons upon a sheet of paper which she takes from the table.] What's that?
Whyhavethey been and cut down Miss Trelawny's salary at the "Wells"?
[Hesitatingly.] H'm, everybody's chattering about it; you could get to hear easily enough——
Oh, I dare say.
So I don't mind—poor Rose! they tell her she can't act now, Mrs. Mossop.
Can't act!
No, dear old girl, she's lost it; it's gone from her—the trick of it——
[Tom enters by the door on the right, carrying a table-cover of a bright pattern.]
[Coming upon Mrs. Mossop, disconcerted.] Oh——!
My first-floor table-cover!
Y—y—yes. [Exchanging the table-covers.] I thought, as the Telfers have departed, and as their late sitting room is at present vacant, that Miss Trelawny might enjoy the benefit—hey?
[Snatching up the old table-cover.] Well, I never—-! [She goes out.]
[Curling her hair, at the mirror over the mantelpiece.] I say, Tom, I wonder if I've done wrong——
It all depends upon whether you've had the chance.
I've told Mrs. Mossop the reason they've reduced Rose's salary.
You needn't.
She had only to ask any other member of the company——-
To have found one who could have kept silent!
[Remorsefully.] Oh, I could burn myself!
Besides, it isn't true.
What?
That Rose Trelawny is no longer up to her work.
[Sadly.] Oh, Tom!
It isn't the fact, I say!
Isn't it the fact that ever since Rose returned from Cavendish Square——?
She has been reserved, subdued, ladylike——
[Shrilly.]She was always ladylike!
I'm aware of that!
Well, then, what do you mean by—?
[In a rage, turning away.] Oh——!
[Heating her irons again.] The idea!
[Cooling down.] She was always a ladylike actress, on the stage and off it, but now she has developed into a—[at a loss] into a——
[Scornfully.] Ha!
Into a ladylike human being. These fools at the "Wells"! Can't act, can't she! No, she can no longerspout, she can no longerladle, the vapid trash, the—the—the turgid rodomontade——
[Doubtfully.] You'd better be careful of your language, Wrench.
[With a twinkle in his eye—mopping his brow.] You're a married woman, 'Vonia——
[Holding her irons to her cheek, modestly.] I know, but still——
Yes, deep down in the well of that girl's nature there has been lying a little, bright, clear pool of genuine refinement, girlish simplicity. And now the bucket has been lowered by love; experience has turned the handle; and up comes the crystal to the top, pure and sparkling. Why, her broken engagement to poor young Gower has really been the making of her! It has transformed her! Can't act, can't she! [__Drawing a long breath.__] How she would play Dora in my comedy!
Ho, that comedy!
How she would murmur those love-scenes!
Murder——!
[Testily.] Murmur. [Partly to himself.] Do you know, 'Vonia, I had Rose in my mind when I imagined Dora——?
Ha, ha! you astonish me.
[Sitting.] And Arthur Gower when I wrote the character of Gerald, Dora's lover. [In a low voice.] Gerald and Dora—Rose and Arthur—Gerald and Dora. [Suddenly.] 'Vonia——!
[Singeing her hair.] Ah—! oh, lor'! what now?
I wish you could keep a secret.
Why, can't I?——
Haven't you just been gossiping with Mother Mossop?
[Behind his chair, breathlessly, her eyes bolting.]
A secret, Tom?
[Nodding.] I should like to share it with you, because—you are fond of her too——
Ah——!
And because the possession of it is worrying me. But there, I can't trust you.
Mr. Wrench!
No, you're a warm-hearted woman, 'Vonia, but you're a sieve.
[Going down upon her knees beside him.] I swear! By all my hopes, Tom Wrench, of hitting 'em as Prince Charming in the coming pantomime, I swear I will not divulge, leave alone tell a living soul, any secret you may intrust to me, or let me know of, concerning Rose Trelawny of the "Wells." Amen!
[In her ear.] 'Vonia, I know where Arthur Gower is.
Is! isn't he still in London?
[Producing a letter mysteriously.] No. When Rose stuck to her refusal to see him—listen—mind, not a word——!
By all my hopes——-!
[Checking her]. All right, all right! [Reading.] "Theatre Royal, Bristol. Friday————-"
Theatre Royal, Br——!
Be quiet! [Reading.] "My dear Mr. Wrench. A whole week, and not a line from you to tell me how Miss Trelawny is. When you are silent I am sleepless at night and a haggard wretch during the day. Young Mr. Kirby, our Walking Gentleman, has been unwell, and the management has given me temporarily some of his business to play———"
Gower———!
Will you? [Reading.] "Last night I was allowed to appear as Careless inThe School for Scandal. Miss Mason, the Lady Teazle, complimented me, but the men said I lacked vigor,"—the old cry!—"and so this morning I am greatly depressed. But I will still persevere, as long as you can assure me that no presuming fellow is paying attention to Miss Trelawny. Oh, how badly she treated me——!"
[Following the reading of the letter.] "How badly she treated me——!"
"I will never forgive her—only love her——"
"Only love her——"
"Only love her, and hope I may some day become a great actor, and, like herself, a gypsy. Yours very gratefully, Arthur Gordon."
In the Profession!
Bolted from Cavendish Square—went down to Bristol——
How did he manage it all? [Tom taps his breast proudly.] But isn't Rose to be told? why shouldn't she be told?
She has hurt the boy, stung him to the quick, and he's proud.
But she loves him now that she believes he has forgotten her. She only half loved him before. She loves him!
Serve her right.
Oh, Tom, is she never to know?
[Folding the letter carefully.] Some day, when he begins to make strides.
Strides! he's nothing but General Utility at present?
[Putting the letter in his pocket.] No.
And how long have you been that?
Ten years.
[With a little screech.] Ah—h—h! she ought to be told!
[Seizing her wrist.] Woman, you won't——!
[Raising her disengaged hand.] By all my hopes of hitting 'em——!
All right, I believe you. [Listening.] Sssh!
[They rise and separate, he moving to the fire, she to the right, as Rose enters. Rose is now a grave, dignified, somewhat dreamy young woman.]
[Looking from Tom to Avonia.] Ah——?
Good-morning.
[Kissing Avonia.] Visitors!
.
My fire's so black [showing her irons]; I thought you wouldn't mind——
[Removing her gloves.] Of course not. [Seeing the table-cover.] Oh——!
Mrs. Mossop. asked me to bring that upstairs. It was in the Telfers' room, you know, and she fancied——-
How good of her! thanks, Tom. [Taking off her hat and mantle.] Poor Mr. and Mrs. Telfer! they still wander mournfully about the "Wells"; they can get nothing to do.
[Carrying her hat and umbrella, she disappears through the curtains.]
[To Avonia, in a whisper, across the room.] The Telfers——!
Eh?
She's been giving 'em money.
Yes.
Damn!
[Reappearing.] What are yous saying about me.
I was wondering whether you'd lend me that belt you bought for Ophelia; to wear during the first two or three weeks of the pantomime—-
Certainly, 'Vonia, to wear throughout——
[Embracing her.] No, it's too good; I'd rather fake one for the rest of the time. [Looking into her face.] What's the matter?
I will make you a present of the belt, 'Vonia, if you will accept it. I bought it when I came back to the "Wells," thinking everything would go on as before. But—it's of no use; they tell me I cannot act effectively any longer——
[Indignantly.] Effectively——!
First, as you know, they reduce my salary——-
[With clenched hands.] Yes!
And now, this morning—[sitting] you can guess——
[Hoarsely.] Got your notice?
Yes.
Oh—h—h!
[After a litle pause.] Poor mother! I hope she doesn't see. [Overwhelmed, Avonia and Tom sit.] I was running through Blanche, my old part inThe Peddler of Marseilles, when Mr. Burroughs spoke to me. It is true I was doing it tamely, but—it is such nonsense.
Hear, hear!
And then, that poor little song I used to sing on the bridge—-
[Singing softly.] "Ever of thee I'm fondly-dreaming——-"