FANNY. My scene, please, George. [_Newte_, _knowing her_, _returns to
silence_.] I have no relations outside this country that I know of. My
uncle is Martin Bennet, your butler. Mrs. Bennet is my aunt. I’m not
ashamed of them. If they’d had as much respect for me as I have for
them, this trouble would not have arisen. We don’t get on together,
that’s all. And this seems to me the only way out. As I said before,
I’m sorry.
VERNON [_recovering speech_]. But why did you—?
FANNY [_her control gives way_. _She breaks out_]. Oh, because I’ve
been a fool. It’s the explanation of most people’s muddles, I expect, if
they only knew it. Don’t talk to me, anybody. I’ve got nothing more to
say. [_To Bennet_] I’m sorry. You wouldn’t give me a chance. I’d have
met you half way. [_To Mrs. Bennet_] I’m sorry. Don’t be too hard on
me. It won’t mean much trouble to you. Good servants don’t go begging.
You can depend upon me for a character. [_To Jane_] You’ll do much
better for yourselves elsewhere. [_To Honoria_] Don’t let that pretty
face of yours ever get you into trouble. [_To Ernest_] Good-bye,
Ernest. We were always pals, weren’t we? Good-bye. [_She kisses him_.
_It has all been the work of a moment_. _She comes down again_.] Don’t
think me rude, but I’d like to be alone. We can talk calmly about it all
to-morrow morning. [_To the Misses Wetherell_] I’m so awfully sorry. I
wish I could have seen any other way out. [_The tears are streaming from
her eyes_. _To Vernon_] Take them all away, won’t you, dear? We’ll
talk about it all to-morrow. I’ll feel gooder. [_She kisses him_. _To
Dr. Freemantle_] Take them all away. Tell him it wasn’t all my fault.
[_To Newte_] You’ll have to stop the night. There are no more trains.
I’ll see you in the morning. Good night.
_Bennet has collected his troop_. _Leads them away_. _Dr. Freemantle_,
_kindly and helpful_, _takes off Vernon and the two ladies_.
NEWTE [_he grips her hand_, _and speaks in his short_, _growling way_].
Good night, old girl. [_He follows the others out_.]
FANNY [_crosses towards the windows_. _Her chief business is dabbing her
eyes_. _The door closes with a click_. _She turns_. _She puts her
handkerchief away_. _She looks at the portrait of Constance_, _first
Lady Bantock_]. I believe it’s what you’ve been telling me to do, all
the time.
[CURTAIN]
_ACT IV_
_SCENE_
_The same_. _The blinds are down_. _Ashes fill the grate_.
_Time_.—_Early the next morning_.
_The door opens softly_. _Newte steals in_. _He fumbles his way across
to the windows_, _draws the blinds_. _The morning sun streams in_. _He
listens—no one seems to be stirring_. _He goes out_, _returns
immediately with a butler’s tray_, _containing all things necessary for a
breakfast and the lighting of a fire_. _He places the tray on table_,
_throws his coat over a chair_, _and is on his knees busy lighting the
fire_, _when enter the Misses Wetherell_, _clad in dressing-gowns and
caps_: _yet still they continue to look sweet_. _They also creep in_,
_hand in hand_. _The crouching Newte is hidden by a hanging
fire-screen_. _They creep forward till the coat hanging over the chair
catches their eye_. _They are staring at it as Robinson Crusoe might at
the footprint_, _when Newte rises suddenly and turns_. _The Misses
Wetherell give a suppressed scream_, _and are preparing for flight_.
NEWTE [_he stays them_]. No call to run away, ladies. When a man’s
travelled—as I have—across America, in a sleeping-car, with a comic-opera
troop, there’s not much left for him to know. You want your breakfast!
[_He wheedles them to the table_.] We’ll be able to talk cosily—before
anybody else comes.
_They yield themselves_. _He has a way with him_.
THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL. We haven’t slept all night.
_Newte answers with a sympathetic gesture_. _He is busy getting ready
the breakfast_.
THE YOUNGER MISS WETHERELL. There’s something we want to tell dear
Vernon—before he says anything to Fanny.
THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL. It’s something very important.
NEWTE. We’ll have a cup of tea first—to steady our nerves.
THE YOUNGER MISS WETHERELL. It’s so important that we should tell him
before he sees Fanny.
NEWTE. We’ll see to it. [_He makes the tea_.] I fancy they’re both
asleep at present.
THE ELDER MISS WETHERELL. Poor boy!