Lady Twombley, you'll pardon my remarking that you are a little trying.
I say, Fan and I desiah to reach the top of the social tree, where the
cocoanuts are. Excuse my humour. Fan's had a whirl or two in the circles
of fashion.
LADY TWOMBLEY.
She! A hanger-on to the skirts of Society!
MR. JOSEPH LEBANON.
And very good skirts too when she makes 'em.
MRS. GAYLUSTRE.
Jo, drop that.
MR. JOSEPH LEBANON.
Excuse my humour, Fan. As for me, from those early boy'ood's days when I
made temporary advances of ha'pence to my sister Fanny, promptly and
without inquiry, I have devoted myself to finance.
LADY TWOMBLEY.
Finance!
MR. JOSEPH LEBANON.
But now, Lady T--to use a poetic figure--I am prepared to cut an eight
on the frozen lake of gentility.
LADY TWOMBLEY.
Man!
MR. JOSEPH LEBANON.
I ignore the innuendo. Lady Twombley, I am aware that for a successful
_entree_ into Society I requiah a--ha--a substantial guarantee. I 'ave,
therefore, the honour and the 'appiness to put myself under your
sheltering and I 'ope sympathetic wing.
LADY TWOMBLEY.
You--you will drive me mad! You won't dare to call here, to contaminate
my bell-handle, to send up your hideous name!
MR. JOSEPH LEBANON.
Oh, Fan, I really can't! This is descendin' to a mere wrangle. Pray cut
in.
MRS. GAYLUSTRE.
No, Lady Twombley, as the Season is drawing to a close, Joseph certainly
does not intend to attach himself to your London establishment.
MR. JOSEPH LEBANON.
Not for Joseph--excuse my humour.
MRS. GAYLUSTRE.
But he and I do mean to take our flight from town with the rest of the
swallows. [Pointing to a paragraph in the journal she still carries.]
Look here, we saw this paragraph in the paper yesterday. Read it.
[LADY TWOMBLEY knocks the paper to the ground.]
LADY TWOMBLEY.
Insolent!
MRS. GAYLUSTRE.
Jo, pet--read it.
MR. JOSEPH LEBANON.
Fanny, this is really most trying. [Picking up the paper and reading.]
"There are already signs of an exodus from town. Among the first of the
notabilities to turn their faces northward are Sir Julian and Lady
Twombley, who will spend the autumn at Drumdurris Castle as the guests
of their nephew, Lord Drumdurris."
LADY TWOMBLEY.
What is this to you?
MRS. GAYLUSTRE.
What's that to us!
MR. JOSEPH LEBANON.
Fan, what's that to us! Lady Twombley, we entertain a not unreasonable
desiah to spend _our_ autumn at Drumdurris Castle.
LADY TWOMBLEY.
In the kitchen?
MR. JOSEPH LEBANON.
Oh, Fan, I really can't! You must cut in again.
MRS. GAYLUSTRE.
As the guests of Lord Drumdurris.
LADY TWOMBLEY.
Never!
MRS. GAYLUSTRE.
Bill Number One falls due next month when you are at Drumdurris Castle!
MR. JOSEPH LEBANON.
No, no! Fan, do _not_ mix up business with friendship. You know my rule.
MRS. GAYLUSTRE.
Get us to Drumdurris and we renew!
MR. JOSEPH LEBANON.
Oh, Fanny, how plainly you put it! Don't!
LADY TWOMBLEY.
Never!
[MR. MELTON enters.]
MR. MELTON.
The carriages are here, Lady Twombley.
LADY TWOMBLEY.
I--I'll come.
[DRUMDURRIS enters talking to VALENTINE. IMOGEN, LADY EUPHEMIA, and
BROOKE follow; then EGIDIA and ANGELE with the infant.]
MR. JOSEPH LEBANON.
[To LADY TWOMBLEY.] Introduce me!
LADY TWOMBLEY.
Never!
MRS. GAYLUSTRE.
[To LADY TWOMBLEY.] Introduce him!
LADY TWOMBLEY.
I will not!
MR. JOSEPH LEBANON.
Lady Twombley!
[He produces his pocketbook, opens it, and gives her a glimpse of the
Bills.]
LADY TWOMBLEY.
The Bills! Oh!
[She makes a futile snatch at the pocketbook.]
MR. JOSEPH LEBANON.
Lady Twombley, introduce me!
[SIR JULIAN enters, intent upon his speech, the MS. of which he carries
in his hand.]
SIR JULIAN TWOMBLEY.
[To himself.] "I can conceive no position more agreeable to a Minister
of the Crown----" [Seeing LEBANON.] Eh?
MRS. GAYLUSTRE.
[Whispering to LADY TWOMBLEY.] Now!
LADY TWOMBLEY.
Julian, Lord Drumdurris, Brooke, let me introduce to you--Mr. Lebanon.
MRS. GAYLUSTRE.
[Triumphantly to herself.] Ah!
MR. JOSEPH LEBANON.
[Triumphantly to himself.] Ah! [LEBANON grasps SIR JULIAN's hand
warmly.] De-lighted to find myself in your elegant 'ouse. Most
_recherche_. [Shaking hands with all the others.] You all know my sister
Fan. Elegant 'ouse this. Most _recherche_.
[MRS. GAYLUSTRE runs to SIR JULIAN and taking a flower from her dress
fastens it in his coat.]
DOWAGER.
[Outside.] Katherine!
[The DOWAGER enters with her arm through MACPHAIL's, LADY MACPHAIL
following.]
DOWAGER.
I've found the truant. He had a motive.
MR. JOSEPH LEBANON.
[Quietly to MRS. GAYLUSTRE.] Who's the Judy?
MRS. GAYLUSTRE.
[To LEBANON.] Old Lady Drum.
MR. JOSEPH LEBANON.
Ah! [Turning to the DOWAGER and seizing her hand.] De-lighted! 'Ope to
have the pleashah of meetin' you up North.
DOWAGER.
Katherine!
[There is a general expression of astonishment, and LADY TWOMBLEY sinks
upon the settee.]
END OF THE SECOND ACT.
THE THIRD ACT.
DISASTER.
The scene is the inner hall at Drumdurris Castle, Perthshire, leading on
one side to the outer hall, and on the other to the picture gallery. It
is solidly and comfortably furnished, and a fire is burning in the grate
of the large oaken fireplace. It is an afternoon in August.
IMOGEN is sitting at the table reading over a letter she has written.
IMOGEN.
"Dear Mr. White." I shall never call him Valentine again, except in my
thoughts. [Reading.] "Dear Mr. White, I am sorry to hear that you are
discontented with your recent appointment to the
Deputy-Assistant-Head-Gamekeepership on the Drumdurris estate, and that
you consider it a sinecure fit only for a debilitated peer." Now for it.
[Resuming.] "Permit me to take this opportunity of informing you that I
have at length consented to an engagement between myself and Sir Colin
Macphail of Ballocheevin." Oh, how awful it looks in ink! [Resuming.]
"As it is becoming that I should support such a position with dignity I
would prefer not encountering your dislike to 'stuck-up people' by ever
seeing you again." Oh, Val. "I therefore suggest that you obtain a
nastier appointment than that of Deputy-Assistant-Head-Gamekeeper at
Drumdurris without delay." That will do--beautifully. [In tears.] Oh,
Val, why have you never spoken? I know you are poor, but I would have
gone away with you and lived cheerfully and economically in that rock if
you had but asked me. Why, why have you never asked me?
[She sits on a footstool looking into the fire. BROOKE, in shooting
dress, strolls in with LADY EUPHEMIA. They do not see IMOGEN.]
BROOKE TWOMBLEY.
[Coolly.] Well, then, Effie, I suppose I may regard our engagement as a
fixture--what? I needn't say you'll find me an excellent husband.
LADY EUPHEMIA VIBART.
Thanks, awfully. But perhaps you had better mention the subject to me
again at some other time.
BROOKE TWOMBLEY.
Well, I shall be rather busy for the next week or two.
LADY EUPHEMIA VIBART.
Oh, quite as you please. [Giving him her hand.] But you are really _too_
impetuous.
BROOKE TWOMBLEY.
Not at all. [About to kiss her.] You'll permit me, naturally?
LADY EUPHEMIA VIBART.
[Languidly turning her cheek toward him.] Of course. Be careful of my
hair--it will not be dressed again before lunch.
[He kisses her cheek cautiously. IMOGEN rises without seeing them.]
LADY EUPHEMIA VIBART.
[To BROOKE.] Somebody.
[They stroll away in opposite directions.]
IMOGEN.
After all, as he has never been a lover, why shouldn't I see him and
mention my engagement in a calm, cool, ladylike way? [Tearing up the
letter passionately.] I must see him once more--in a calm, cool,
ladylike way. I'll write just a line asking him to come to me this
morning.
[As she sits to write LADY EUPHEMIA and BROOKE stroll in again and meet
each other.]
LADY EUPHEMIA VIBART.
[To BROOKE.] Good-morning.
BROOKE TWOMBLEY.
[To LADY EUPHEMIA.] Good-morning.
LADY EUPHEMIA VIBART.
Why, it's Imogen! Oh, let me congratulate you. [Kissing her.] The news
is too delightful.
IMOGEN.
Thank you.
BROOKE TWOMBLEY.
Accept my congratulations also. Splendid fellow, Macphail; not one of
those men who talk the top of your head off.
IMOGEN.
[Writing.] No, not quite. Brooke, dear, will you give Mr. White a little
note from me?
BROOKE TWOMBLEY.
Certainly. By the bye, while I think of it, you'll be glad to hear that
Effie has honored me by consenting to--er--marry me--what!
IMOGEN.
Effie!
LADY EUPHEMIA VIBART.
How your mind does run on that subject, Brooke!
IMOGEN.
[Throwing her arms round LADY EUPHEMIA'S neck.] What happy people, both
of you!
LADY EUPHEMIA VIBART.
My hair!
IMOGEN.
[Kissing BROOKE.] A thousand congratulations, my dear, clever, old
brother!
LADY EUPHEMIA VIBART.
The bother with mamma will be too wearying.
IMOGEN.
Why a bother?
BROOKE TWOMBLEY.
About my pecuniary position, don't you know. You'll hardly credit it,
but I haven't the least idea what pa intends to do for me.
IMOGEN.
But it doesn't matter about that, so that you are deeply attached to
each other.
LADY EUPHEMIA VIBART.
Oh, Imogen, that's _too_ ridiculous!
BROOKE TWOMBLEY.
Quite absurd--what!
IMOGEN.
Besides, if you want money you can work.
BROOKE TWOMBLEY.
Oh, it's no good everybody working. It's this stupid all-round desire to
work that throws so many men out of employment. I'll look for Valentine.
[IMOGEN gives him her note.] He's sure to be about. We're going to shoot
over Claigrossie Moor this morning. [He goes out.]
LADY EUPHEMIA VIBART.
So you've made up your mind at last?
IMOGEN.
No; other people have made it up for me.
LADY EUPHEMIA VIBART.
Mamma?
IMOGEN.
Yes, Aunt Dora is the principal person who has rendered my life a burden
to me.
LADY EUPHEMIA VIBART.
Oh, Imogen!
IMOGEN.
It's true. Every hour of the livelong day Aunt Dora has goaded me on to
this desirable, detestable match; even at night she has stalked into my
room with a lighted candle, startling me out of my beauty sleep, to tell
me she will never rest till I am Lady Macphail.
LADY EUPHEMIA VIBART.
Imogen, it's _too_ kind of mamma to take this interest in you.
IMOGEN.
Interest! It's torture. And at last she threatened that if I married
anybody else she would expire in great pain and appear to me constantly,
a ghost, in her night-gown. Well, you've seen Aunt Dora in her
night-gown--you can guess my feelings.
LADY EUPHEMIA VIBART.
And that decided you.
IMOGEN.
I went to mamma and asked her advice.
LADY EUPHEMIA VIBART.
I guess what that was.
IMOGEN.
Mamma's expression was that she'd give the heels off her best shoes to
see me provided for. And so, late last night, while my maid Phipps was
washing my head, I gasped out a soapy sort of yes.
[The DOWAGER enters.]
DOWAGER.
Where is Imogen?
LADY EUPHEMIA VIBART.
Here, mamma.
DOWAGER.
[Embracing IMOGEN.] My favorite niece! I have just learned your decision
over the breakfast-table. I was eating cold grouse at the moment; I
thought I should have choked.
IMOGEN.
I hope you are satisfied, aunt.
DOWAGER.
Thoroughly. I feel now that I shall die, a great many years hence, a
contented woman. Effie.
LADY EUPHEMIA VIBART.
Yes, mamma?
DOWAGER.
Don't think you're neglected, child. I cannot provide for everybody at
once.
LADY EUPHEMIA VIBART.
No, mamma.
DOWAGER.
But having completely settled Imogen, I shall commence the adjustment of
your future after lunch.
[LADY MACPHAIL enters.]
LADY MACPHAIL.
Ah!
DOWAGER.
Dear Lady Macphail! What glorious news!
LADY MACPHAIL.
[Rapturously, with her hand upraised.] Now let the worn banner of the
Macphail be run up on the crumbling tower of Castle Ballocheevin!
DOWAGER.
Certainly--by all means.
LADY MACPHAIL.
Now let the roar of the pipes startle the eaglets on the summit of black
Ben-Muchty!
DOWAGER.
I hope such arrangements will be made.
LADY MACPHAIL.
Let the shriek of the wild birds resound on the shores of Loch-na-Doich!
DOWAGER.
[Bringing IMOGEN forward.] But you haven't seen Imogen yet.
LADY MACPHAIL.
[Embracing her.] Child! Ah, when Colin learns your answer to his suit
you shall listen to such words as none but a Macphail can utter to his
betrothed.
DOWAGER.
Doesn't he know?
LADY MACPHAIL.
Not yet. He went out early to watch the sun gild the gray peak of
Ben-Auchter.
[LADY TWOMBLEY enters, looking very troubled.]
IMOGEN.
Mamma. [LADY MACPHAIL, the DOWAGER, and LADY EUPHEMIA talk together.]
Mamma, everybody has congratulated me. Have you nothing to say?
[LADY TWOMBLEY places her hand fondly on IMOGEN's head.]
LADY TWOMBLEY.
[In a sepulchral voice.] Did Phipps dry your head thoroughly last night?
IMOGEN.
Yes, mamma.
LADY TWOMBLEY.
Then all's well, I suppose. [SIR JULIAN'S flute is heard. To herself.]
The first Bill--the first Bill due next week.
[She sits staring at the fire as SIR JULIAN enters, playing the flute.]
IMOGEN.
Papa.
SIR JULIAN TWOMBLEY.
Imogen, my dear, amidst severe official worries I must not omit to join
in the general paean of rejoicing.
IMOGEN.
Thank you, papa.
SIR JULIAN TWOMBLEY.
Sir Colin may lack that inexhaustible flow of anecdote with which I have
often been credited.
IMOGEN.
He may, papa.
SIR JULIAN TWOMBLEY.
But I confess I respect a man who will sit for hours without saying
anything. I wish there were more like him in the House.
DOWAGER.
Julian, let the newspapers have the details of Imogen's engagement
without delay.
IMOGEN.
Oh, no, aunt! Not yet.
DOWAGER.
Imogen, if I may use such an expression--fall-lall! Suffice it, I have a
motive.
IMOGEN.
But why the papers?
DOWAGER.
It is our duty to our friends. Do you think if anything serious happened
to me, my friends wouldn't like to hear of it without delay? Julian!
[SIR JULIAN writes.] Besides, it will be current talk at the dance
to-morrow night.
LADY MACPHAIL.
The dance! Aye! To-morrow night they shall see a Macphail lead the
Strathspey with the girl who is to be his bride!
IMOGEN.
No, indeed they won't!
LADY MACPHAIL.
What!
IMOGEN.
I can't make myself so supremely ridiculous.
LADY MACPHAIL.
Ridiculous!
LADY EUPHEMIA VIBART.
Oh, Imogen!
DOWAGER.
Imogen!
LADY TWOMBLEY.
Imogen!
SIR JULIAN TWOMBLEY.
My dear!
[LADY MACPHAIL closes her eyes. SIR JULIAN and the DOWAGER take her
hands.]
SIR JULIAN TWOMBLEY and DOWAGER.
My dear Lady Macphail!
LADY EUPHEMIA VIBART.
Here is Sir Colin!
DOWAGER and SIR JULIAN TWOMBLEY.
Ah!
LADY MACPHAIL.
My boy!
LADY EUPHEMIA VIBART.
Why, he is with Mrs. Gaylustre!
SIR JULIAN TWOMBLEY.
That woman!
DOWAGER.
That woman!
LADY TWOMBLEY.
That woman!
IMOGEN.
That woman!
[MACPHAIL enters with MRS. GAYLUSTRE, he in Highland dress, she wearing
a showy costume of tweed tartan with a Scotch bonnet.]
LADY MACPHAIL.
Colin, lad!
MACPHAIL.
Eh, mother?
MRS. GAYLUSTRE.
Dear Sir Colin gave me his arm to the top of Ben-Auchter.
DOWAGER and LADY MACPHAIL.
To the top of Ben-Auchter!
MACPHAIL.
[With an anxious glance at MRS. GAYLUSTRE.] Just to see the sun rise.
DOWAGER.
[Quietly to SIR JULIAN.] Julian, that's scandalous!
LADY MACPHAIL.
I thought you always witnessed the sun rise alone, Colin.
MACPHAIL.
As a rule, mother.
DOWAGER.
[To herself.] That woman has a motive.
LADY MACPHAIL.
[Pointing to IMOGEN.] My son, look--here is Imogen.
MACPHAIL.
[To IMOGEN.] Good-morning.
LADY MACPHAIL.
Colin, lad, don't you guess?
MACPHAIL.
No, mother.
LADY MACPHAIL.
[Rapturously.] Now let the worn banner of the Macphail be run up on the
crumbling tower of Castle Ballocheevin!
MACPHAIL.
[Vacantly.] For what reason, mother?
LADY MACPHAIL.
Now let the shriek of the wild birds sound on the shores of
Loch-na-Doich!
MACPHAIL.
Why?
LADY MACPHAIL.
[Embracing MACPHAIL.] Imogen is to be your bride.
MACPHAIL.
[Blankly.] Oh!
[SIR JULIAN, the DOWAGER, and LADY EUPHEMIA congratulate him.]
SIR JULIAN TWOMBLEY.
Most gratified!
DOWAGER.
I have a mother's yearnings toward you.
LADY EUPHEMIA VIBART.
We are _too_ rejoiced!
MRS. GAYLUSTRE.
[To herself.] They've hooked him!
LADY MACPHAIL.
[Bringing MACPHAIL down.] Hush! Speak to her, Colin, lad. Let her hear
how a Macphail greets the woman of his choice.
[LADY MACPHAIL joins SIR JULIAN, the DOWAGER, and LADY EUPHEMIA, while
they all watch MACPHAIL as he approaches IMOGEN.]
LADY MACPHAIL.
Listen!
MACPHAIL.
[To IMOGEN.] Er--I'm very much obliged to ye.
LADY MACPHAIL.
Bravely spoken!
DOWAGER.
A grand nature!
IMOGEN.
Thank you, Sir Colin. [She joins the others.]
MRS. GAYLUSTRE.
[To MACPHAIL, seizing his hand.] May your life be very, very blissful!
MACPHAIL.
[Uneasily, withdrawing his hand.] Mother's looking. [He joins the rest.]
MRS. GAYLUSTRE.
[To herself.] They've hooked my Scotch salmon; but they haven't landed
him yet! [Intercepting LADY TWOMBLEY as she advances towards the group.]
Kate!
LADY TWOMBLEY.
Reptile!
MRS. GAYLUSTRE.
I'm not at all satisfied with the way things are going on here.
LADY TWOMBLEY.
Aren't you? I think things are beautifully smooth.
MRS. GAYLUSTRE.
I'm pretty comfortable at Drumdurris myself, thank you; but I'm getting
extremely anxious about Joseph.
LADY TWOMBLEY.
So am I.
MRS. GAYLUSTRE.
I'm afraid Joseph isn't enjoying his little holiday at all. Did you
observe him at dinner last night?
LADY TWOMBLEY.
Who could help it? The man eats enough for six.
MRS. GAYLUSTRE.
He's obliged to, his holiday being so brief. But these fine folks treat
him as contemptuously as if he were a snail in a cabbage.
LADY TWOMBLEY.
Then why does he talk with the leg of a grouse sticking out of the side
of his mouth? Why does he drink people's health across the table and
call the men-servants "old chaps?"
MRS. GAYLUSTRE.
Dear Jo! There's nothing classy about him.
[DRUMDURRIS, in shooting dress, enters, carrying a light wooden box.]
LADY TWOMBLEY.
Why does he swallow his knife and build pyramids with his bread; and
tell long stories with no meaning at all or else with two?
MRS. GAYLUSTRE.
Well, you must take Jo as Heaven made him. So you'd better make things
smooth for him with Lord Drumdurris. If not----
LADY TWOMBLEY.
If not?
MRS. GAYLUSTRE.
If not, Jo might, after all, decline to renew.
LADY TWOMBLEY.
Oh!
MRS. GAYLUSTRE.
And then there would be the devil to pay, wouldn't there?
LADY TWOMBLEY.
As far as I can see there are two devils to pay already.
MRS. GAYLUSTRE.
Ha, ha! Here's Drumdurris. Remember.
[After talking to the others, DRUMDURRIS approaches LADY TWOMBLEY,
bowing stiffly to MRS. GAYLUSTRE, who shakes her fist behind his back,
LADY TWOMBLEY gives a small nervous shriek.]
EARL OF DRUMDURRIS.
Aunt?
LADY TWOMBLEY.
[With her hand to her heart.] Spasms.
MRS. GAYLUSTRE.
[Smiling sweetly at DRUMDURRIS.] Delightful morning.
[She takes up a newspaper. SIR JULIAN and LADY EUPHEMIA stroll out.]
LADY TWOMBLEY.
[To DRUMDURRIS.] Keith, dear, I want to say a word to you about--dear
Mr. Lebanon.
EARL OF DRUMDURRIS.
Ah! Aunt!
LADY TWOMBLEY.
Have patience, Keith!
EARL OF DRUMDURRIS.
Patience!
LADY TWOMBLEY.
When I begged you to entertain him at Drumdurris I didn't deceive you. I
distinctly told you he was one of nature's noblemen.
EARL OF DRUMDURRIS.
I would do much to please you, Aunt Kate, but this individual and his
sister----
LADY TWOMBLEY.
You must follow the democratic tendencies of the age, Keith. The peer
must go hand in hand with the pig.
EARL OF DRUMDURRIS.
Yes, but let it be the companionable, clubable pig. Oh, I have just left
him at the breakfast-table.
LADY TWOMBLEY.
Is he making a tolerable breakfast this morning?
EARL OF DRUMDURRIS.
He seems to be making every breakfast in Great Britain.
LADY TWOMBLEY.
I see him at it.
EARL OF DRUMDURRIS.
He consumes enough coffee to put a fire out.
LADY TWOMBLEY.
Yes; and he swoops down on a cold bird like a vulture.
EARL OF DRUMDURRIS.
It's hideous to see him hurl himself at an omelette.
LADY TWOMBLEY.
I know; and with eggs he's a conjurer. What's he engaged on now?
EARL OF DRUMDURRIS.
When I left him he was an unrecognizable mass of marmalade. He must go!
LADY TWOMBLEY.
Don't disregard the sacred laws of hospitality!
EARL OF DRUMDURRIS.
I must. At another time I might endure him, but now when I am utterly
crushed by my own agonizing trouble---- Hark!
LADY TWOMBLEY.
What's the matter?
EARL OF DRUMDURRIS.
My son.
[ANGELE appears with the infant.]
ANGELE.
[Mysteriously.] Is it alright, milord?
EARL OF DRUMDURRIS.
Hush! [To LADY TWOMBLEY.] Is Egidia there?
[SIR JULIAN and LADY EUPHEMIA re-enter.]
LADY TWOMBLEY.
No.
[LADY TWOMBLEY joins SIR JULIAN and LADY EUPHEMIA.]
EARL OF DRUMDURRIS.
[To ANGELE.] All right. [Fondly to the infant.] My soldier boy! [ANGELE
advances to DRUMDURRIS. He produces a small toy gun and a little drum
from a box he carries and hands them to ANGELE.] Don't let Lady
Drumdurris discover these.
ANGELE.
No.
EARL OF DRUMDURRIS.
Above all, let the drum be muffled.
ANGELE.
Yees, milord.
[EGIDIA enters.]
EARL OF DRUMDURRIS.
I expect some small cannon by the evening post. Go.
[EGIDIA comes between ANGELE and DRUMDURRIS, the DOWAGER following.]
EARL OF DRUMDURRIS.
Ah!
ANGELE.
Oh, miladi!
EGIDIA.
I am right, then.
[She takes the toys from ANGELE and points to the door. ANGELE withdraws
with the infant.]
DOWAGER.
Keith--Egidia! Don't disagree here!
EGIDIA.
[To DRUMDURRIS.] I was loth to credit you with such treachery.
DOWAGER.
Name some convenient hour to disagree this afternoon. I will willingly
be present.
EGIDIA.
I have long suspected this conspiracy to anticipate my son's mature
judgment. Keith, there is a gulf between us which can never be bridged
over.
[EGIDIA joins the others.]
EARL OF DRUMDURRIS.
Mother, my life is wasted.
[VALENTINE, roughly dressed in cords and gaiters, enters, followed by
BROOKE.]
VALENTINE WHITE.
Are you ready, Lord Drumdurris?
EARL OF DRUMDURRIS.
We are waiting, I presume, for Mr. Lebanon.
BROOKE TWOMBLEY.
I'll go and stir him up. Ugh! What!
[BROOKE goes out.]
EARL OF DRUMDURRIS.
You'll not join us, Sir Julian?
SIR JULIAN TWOMBLEY.
I daren't. Melton has arrived from town with a mass of papers for my
signature. [Quietly to DRUMDURRIS.] The Rajputana Canal Question is
wearing me out.
VALENTINE WHITE.
[Whispering to IMOGEN.] I have your note. I'll return in a few minutes.
MR. JOSEPH LEBANON.
[Outside.] Shootin', my dear sir! When I was in the South 'Ampstead
Artillery I could have shown you what shootin' was.
MRS. GAYLUSTRE.
There's Jo. [She goes out to meet LEBANON.]
ALL.
[With various expressions of disgust.] Ugh! that man!
[All gather into groups, as LEBANON, looking very ridiculous in Highland
costume, enters, followed by BROOKE.]
MR. JOSEPH LEBANON.
[Slapping MACPHAIL on the back.] Mac, dear old boy, 'aven't seen you
this morning. [MACPHAIL turns away distrustfully.] Lady Mac, I 'ear
delightful whispers.
LADY MACPHAIL.
Sir?
MR. JOSEPH LEBANON.
An approachin' 'appy event. We're like the doves--we're pairin' off,
hey; we're pairin' off? [LADY MACPHAIL stares at him and turns away. He
wipes his forehead anxiously.] It's a little difficult to keep up a long
conversation with 'em. They're not what I should term Rattlers. [Eyeing
EGIDIA.] The fair 'ostess. Ahem! We missed you at the breakfast-table,
Lady Drum. Can't congratulate you on your peck--excuse my humour.
[EGIDIA stares at him and joins LADY MACPHAIL.] [To himself.] They're a
chatty lot; I must say they're a chatty lot. I wish Fanny would stick by
me and cut in occasionally. There's Lady T. _She_ can't ride the 'igh
'orse, at any rate. Lady T.
LADY TWOMBLEY.
Mr. Lebanon?
MR. JOSEPH LEBANON.
You didn't honour me with my game of crib last night.
LADY TWOMBLEY.
I--I had a headache.
MR. JOSEPH LEBANON.
Never 'ad a 'eadache in my life--don't know 'ow it's spelt.
LADY TWOMBLEY.
It's spelt with an H.
MR. JOSEPH LEBANON.
[To LADY EUPHEMIA, offering her flowers from his coat.] Lady Effie, my
floral offering.
[LADY EUPHEMIA catches up her skirts and sweeps past him.]
[To himself.] Chatty, hey? Chatty? [He comes face to face with the
DOWAGER, who glares at him.] Hah! H'm! [Offering her the flowers.]
I--ah--had these picked for you, by Jove, I did. A present from Joseph.
DOWAGER.
What, sir!
MR. JOSEPH LEBANON.
[Replacing the flowers in his coat.] Excuse my humour. [Wiping his brow
again.] Chatty! I do wish Fan would cut in and help me. [Slaps SIR
JULIAN on the shoulder.] Twombley, old fellow.
SIR JULIAN TWOMBLEY.
Sir!
MR. JOSEPH LEBANON.
Not comin' out with us to-day, hey?
SIR JULIAN TWOMBLEY.
No.
MR. JOSEPH LEBANON.
Gettin' past it, I suppose?
SIR JULIAN TWOMBLEY.
I am kept indoors by pressure of work, Mr. Lebanon.
MR. JOSEPH LEBANON.
Oh, of course, the Rajputana Canal Question, hey? I'm a big shareholder
in the Rajputana Railway, yer know. I say, tell me----
SIR JULIAN TWOMBLEY.
I cannot discuss official matters with you.
[SIR JULIAN turns from him.]
MR. JOSEPH LEBANON.
[To himself as he sits down.] Chatty! Chatty! I know what this'll end
in. It'll end in my standin' on my dignity. Where's Fanny? [Addressing
the others.] Talkin' about shootin', I'll tell you an amusin' little
story.
SIR JULIAN TWOMBLEY.
[To LADY TWOMBLEY and others sotto voce.] No, no!
MR. JOSEPH LEBANON.
It's all about myself.
BROOKE TWOMBLEY.
[Whispering to the others.] Good-bye. We're off.
[There is a general movement, the ladies and SIR JULIAN saying good-bye
to the shooters, unnoticed by LEBANON, who has his back to them.]
MR. JOSEPH LEBANON.
I was spendin' a day or two down in Essex with my old friend, Captain
Bolter, South 'Ampstead Artillery. Dear old Tom--great favourite with
the gals. Excuse my humour.
LADY TWOMBLEY, IMOGEN, LADY EUPHEMIA VIBART, SIR JULIAN TWOMBLEY, LADY
MACPHAIL, and DOWAGER.
[Quietly to the shooters.] Good-bye.
MR. JOSEPH LEBANON.
It was wild-fowl Tom and I were after. We were lyin' in a ditch waitin'
for the ducks to drift in with the tide. [As LEBANON continues his story
all the others gradually and quietly disperse.] I counted fifty-seven
birds through my glass. So said I to Tom, "Tom, I'm in dooced good form,
my boy." "Devil you are!" said Tom. "And I lay you a pony to a penny
that fifteen of those birds fall to my gun." "Done!" said Tom. [He is
now alone in the room.] Well, to make a short story a long one--excuse
my humour--Tom sneezed. Up I got. So did the ducks. And then what the
dooce d'ye think 'appened? I say, what the dooce d'ye think----
[Discovering that he is alone.] Well, I'm---- Chatty, ain't they?
Chatty!
[MRS. GAYLUSTRE enters.]
MRS. GAYLUSTRE.
Jo! why aren't you with the shooters?
MR. JOSEPH LEBANON.
Why! They hooked it while I was tellin 'em the tale of Tom Bolter and
the ducks.
MRS. GAYLUSTRE.
Never mind, my pet.
MR. JOSEPH LEBANON.
It's rude--that's what it is--it's dooced rude.
MRS. GAYLUSTRE.
Come along, we'll walk on to the moor.
MR. JOSEPH LEBANON.
What, are you going too, Fan?
MRS. GAYLUSTRE.
Yes, dear. Your poor Fanny has a little bit of fun on.
MR. JOSEPH LEBANON.
Oh, Fan, if I only 'ad your confidence, your push. But the rudeness of
these people is gettin' on my nerves.
MRS. GAYLUSTRE.
Why, Joseph!
MR. JOSEPH LEBANON.
I feel a little 'urt, Fan--a little 'urt.
[VALENTINE enters.]
VALENTINE WHITE.
Mr. Lebanon!
MR. JOSEPH LEBANON.
Hi! Where are they?
VALENTINE WHITE.
Just starting in the drag. Be quick.
MR. JOSEPH LEBANON.
[To MRS. GAYLUSTRE.] Come on! They shall hear about Tom Bolter and the
ducks before I've done with 'em. Come on!
[MRS. GAYLUSTRE and LEBANON hurry out.]
MR. JOSEPH LEBANON.
[Outside.] Hi! Hi!
VALENTINE WHITE.
That fellow was born to hail an omnibus.
[IMOGEN appears.]
IMOGEN.
[Not seeing VALENTINE.] Will he be long? [She encounters him.] Oh! You
are not neglecting your duties, I hope, Valentine?
VALENTINE WHITE.
I shall follow the others in the cart. Your note was marked "urgent."
IMOGEN.
Was it?
VALENTINE WHITE.
[Showing her letter.] "Urgent."
IMOGEN.
What a thoughtless habit it is to mark all one's letters "urgent." All
I wanted to say to you is this--but it isn't urgent.
VALENTINE WHITE.
No, no--I understand that.
IMOGEN.
I merely had a foolish desire to be the first to acquaint you of
my--undeserved happiness.
VALENTINE WHITE.
What happiness don't you deserve?
IMOGEN.
The happiness of becoming Lady Colin Macphail, Valentine.
VALENTINE WHITE.
Oh. Is that--all?
IMOGEN.
That's all--just at present.
VALENTINE WHITE.
Hah! You'll be a fine lady now, past recovery.
IMOGEN.
I shall endeavour to adequately fill the station of life to which fate
has called me.
VALENTINE WHITE.
All that sweet simplicity of yours in London was purely an assumption, I
suppose?
IMOGEN.
Things are--what they appear.
VALENTINE WHITE.
But you have your heart's desire at last, I presume?
IMOGEN.
I--I presume I have.
VALENTINE WHITE.
[Burying his head in his hands.] Oh!
IMOGEN.
What are you going to do next?
VALENTINE WHITE.
Japan.
IMOGEN.
Nice part of Japan?
VALENTINE WHITE.
The murderous districts.
IMOGEN.
Oh! Then you don't propose to--return alive?
VALENTINE WHITE.
Not according to my present arrangements.
IMOGEN.
You--you had better follow the shooters to Claigrossie now.
VALENTINE WHITE.
Certainly.
IMOGEN.
I am glad to have had this gossip over our prospects. We--we both seem
to be doing well. Good-morning.
[She offers her hand, which he takes ungraciously.]
VALENTINE WHITE.
Good-morning.
IMOGEN.
You haven't congratulated me yet--in the usual way.
VALENTINE WHITE.
Will you be happy with--him?
IMOGEN.
I think--partially.
VALENTINE WHITE.
But you're not going to partially marry Sir Colin. How dare you do this?
IMOGEN.
He was the first to ask me, Val.
VALENTINE WHITE.
The first to ask you! You don't mean to suggest that any other man would
have done!
IMOGEN.
No--not _any_ other.
VALENTINE WHITE.
_Some_ other?
IMOGEN.
It's too late now--but yes.
VALENTINE WHITE.
A poor man?
IMOGEN.
Val!
VALENTINE WHITE.
Would _I_ have stood the remotest chance?
IMOGEN.
It's too late now.
VALENTINE WHITE.
Would I? Would I?
IMOGEN.
No. Nor any other nineteenth century savage.
VALENTINE WHITE.
Savage!
IMOGEN.
Mr. White, it is very much too late now; but why, when you returned to
England, didn't you wear uncomfortable clothes like other gentlemen, and
a very high collar, and varnished boots, like other gentlemen?
VALENTINE WHITE.
Why? Because I cannot be false to my principles.
IMOGEN.
People say that principles which deal too much with the outside of
things are nothing but affectations.
VALENTINE WHITE.
Imogen!
IMOGEN.
If a man has a good heart he should have a good hat.
VALENTINE WHITE.
Imogen--Jenny! If I had ever come to you--in a good hat----
IMOGEN.
If you had, then when mamma urged me to marry perhaps she would not have
blamed me for----
VALENTINE WHITE.
For what?
IMOGEN.
For liking some pleasant-looking gentleman who laughed at harmless
follies instead of scolding them.
VALENTINE WHITE.
And now?
IMOGEN.
Now! Now--it is too late.
[She falls into his arms; he embraces her.]
MR. JOSEPH LEBANON.
[Outside.] Hi, hi! Come here! hi!
IMOGEN.
Ah!
[She breaks from VALENTINE and runs out, as LEBANON enters, very pale
and upset.]
MR. JOSEPH LEBANON.
[Clinging to VALENTINE.] Old fellow!
VALENTINE WHITE.
What's the matter with you?
MR. JOSEPH LEBANON.
Gurrrh! You--you're wanted!
[LADY TWOMBLEY enters.]
LADY TWOMBLEY.
Good gracious!
VALENTINE WHITE.
Something has happened, I'm afraid.
[VALENTINE goes out.]
LADY TWOMBLEY.
[To LEBANON.] You're ill!
MR. JOSEPH LEBANON.
I'm upset.
LADY TWOMBLEY.
Too much breakfast!
MR. JOSEPH LEBANON.
No. I--I've peppered Macphail.
LADY TWOMBLEY.
Peppered him! Can't you take your mind off eating?
MR. JOSEPH LEBANON.
You don't understand. I was in the wagonette, tellin' 'em the story of
Tom Bolter and those beastly ducks. I got 'old of a beastly gun and just
as I was demonstrating how I shot the fifteen beastly birds----
LADY TWOMBLEY.
It went off!
MR. JOSEPH LEBANON.
Well! Don't make such a fuss about it!
LADY TWOMBLEY.
Ah! and it was pointed at Sir Colin!
MR. JOSEPH LEBANON.
Pointed at him! No! His legs were stuck right in the way.
LADY TWOMBLEY.
Heavens!
MR. JOSEPH LEBANON.
Be quiet! Make light of it--make light of it, like I do!
LADY TWOMBLEY.
Now, now I hope you're content!
MR. JOSEPH LEBANON.
No, I'm not. I wouldn't have had this 'appen for 'alf a sovereign. This
'Ighland 'oliday of mine is gettin' on my nerves.
LADY TWOMBLEY.
Your nerves!
MR. JOSEPH LEBANON.
Yes, Lady T. Imagine what it must mean to a shy man to spend a
rollickin' August with a lot of people whose chief occupation is
staring at the tips of their own aquiline noses.
LADY TWOMBLEY.
[Hysterically.] Ha, ha, ha!
MR. JOSEPH LEBANON.
Imagine what it must be to a shy man to find himself always leading the
conversation, instead of following it with a sparkling comment or two,
as I'm in the 'abit of doin' in my own circle. Think of me starting
every topic and arguing on it till my throat's sore; making every joke
and roaring at it till I get blood to the head. Sometimes when I'm in
the middle of a long story and not a soul listening I feel so lonely
I--I could almost cry.
LADY TWOMBLEY.
Then out of your own sufferings why can't you find some compassion for
mine?
MR. JOSEPH LEBANON.
It's pathetic--that's what my position is--it's dooced pathetic.
LADY TWOMBLEY.
In mercy's name why don't you retire quietly to your room and pack?
MR. JOSEPH LEBANON.
What! Throw up the sponge?
LADY TWOMBLEY.
You needn't throw up your sponge--_pack_ your sponge.
MR. JOSEPH LEBANON.
I understand, Lady T--hook it!
LADY TWOMBLEY.
"Hook it" is a harsh way of putting it. Bring your visit to a close.
Think of what you are losing here! Think of Margate, where I feel you
must have many dear friends!
MR. JOSEPH LEBANON.
I--I've half a mind to.
LADY TWOMBLEY.
Ha! Bless you, Mr. Lebanon, bless you! I'll fetch you a Bradshaw.
MR. JOSEPH LEBANON.
Stop! I forgot the hop.
LADY TWOMBLEY.
The hop?
MR. JOSEPH LEBANON.
There's a ball here to-morrow night.
LADY TWOMBLEY.
For heaven's sake, don't wait for the hop.
MR. JOSEPH LEBANON.
I had half-a-dozen lessons in the Scotch Reel before I left town.
LADY TWOMBLEY.
And you would risk the Reel on half-a-dozen lessons! Madman!
MR. JOSEPH LEBANON.
Half-a-dozen lessons at store prices. Dash it all, you wouldn't 'ave me
waste 'em!
LADY TWOMBLEY.
Hopeless!
[SIR JULIAN enters unobserved by Lebanon or LADY TWOMBLEY.]
MR. JOSEPH LEBANON.
Look 'ere, Lady T! I'm sorry to disappoint a lady, but it ain't Mr.
Joseph Lebanon's principle to do something for nothing.
LADY TWOMBLEY.
No. If you lent a lady your arm you'd do it at interest.
MR. JOSEPH LEBANON.
I'm not alludin' to our pleasant financial relationship, Lady T. What I
infer is that if after the forthcoming hop I drag myself away from my
sorrowin' friends at Drumdurris I expect a--ah--a solatium. [SIR JULIAN
remains watching and listening.]
LADY TWOMBLEY.
A what?
MR. JOSEPH LEBANON.
Lady T, my pride has been wounded in this 'ouse--my self-respect has
been 'urt.
LADY TWOMBLEY.
Ha, ha, ha! Pardon me, I'm hysterical.
MR. JOSEPH LEBANON.
If you could 'eal my feelings by rendering me a service----
LADY TWOMBLEY.
To be rid of you?
MR. JOSEPH LEBANON.
Oh, Lady T, 'ow plainly you put it! Well, yes.
LADY TWOMBLEY.
Try me. [SIR JULIAN disappears suddenly.]
MR. JOSEPH LEBANON.
'Ush! Thought I 'eard somebody. Lady T, you are aware that Mr. Joseph
Lebanon's position in the financial world is an eminent one.
LADY TWOMBLEY.
I wasn't aware of it.
MR. JOSEPH LEBANON.
Take it from me, Lady T, take it from me. But that distinguished
position might be advanced by the success of some delicate little
financial operations which I'm on the brink of, Lady Twombley, on the
brink of. Lady T, if I could know twenty-four hours in advance of the
prying newspapers the decision of the Government on the Rajputana Canal
Question it would go far to 'eal the wound my self-respect has received
in this _recherche_ 'Ighland 'ome. You follow me, Lady T?
LADY TWOMBLEY.
I suppose you mean that when the decision of the Government is known in
the City something or other will go up and something or other will go
down on the Stock Exchange? Is that it?
MR. JOSEPH LEBANON.
That's it, Lady T, that's it! And some fellers will make fortunes! Oh,
Lady T!
LADY TWOMBLEY.
But why do you bother a poor woman with a headache----
MR. JOSEPH LEBANON.
Because without the gentle guidance of tender-hearted woman I can't find
out whether the Government is going to grant the concession for the
cutting of the Rajputana Canal. Oh, Lady Twombley, let me 'ave five
minutes alone with Sir Julian's papers in Sir Julian's room.
LADY TWOMBLEY.
Mr. Lebanon!
MR. JOSEPH LEBANON.
Two minutes! A stroll round. I'll go in with a duster and tidy up.
LADY TWOMBLEY.
Oh!
MR. JOSEPH LEBANON.
Or give me a glimpse of some of the documents Mr. Melton brought with
him in that box yesterday.
LADY TWOMBLEY.
I want some fresh air!
MR. JOSEPH LEBANON.
Wait! If you'll do this for me I'll clear out of Drumdurris with Fanny
on Thursday morning.
LADY TWOMBLEY.
Ah, no!
MR. JOSEPH LEBANON.
And I'll hand you back your acceptances--every-one of 'em--I will--on my
word of honour as a gentleman!
[She seizes him by the throat and shakes him violently.]
LADY TWOMBLEY.
How dare you! How dare you tempt me!
MR. JOSEPH LEBANON.
[Arranging his hair and moustache with his pocket comb and mirror.] Oh,
ladies are trying in business--they are dooced trying.
LADY TWOMBLEY.
You--you wretch! Do you think I haven't endured enough for the past
three months without this? Oh, pa, what will you say to your Kitty when
you know the disgrace she's brought on you! Oh, my chicks, my chicks, my
blessed chicks!
MR. JOSEPH LEBANON.
Lady Twombley, my pride has been wounded, my self-respect has been 'urt
in this _recherche_ 'Ighland 'ome for, I 'ope, the last time. I shall
retire from the hop early to-morrow night and hook it--bring my visit to
a close--on Thursday morning.
LADY TWOMBLEY.
Thank you.
MR. JOSEPH LEBANON.
Next week the first bit of paper bearin' the honoured name of woman
falls doo.
LADY TWOMBLEY.
Oh!
MR. JOSEPH LEBANON.
I repeat the word, d-u-e, doo.
LADY TWOMBLEY.
Mr. Lebanon!
MR. JOSEPH LEBANON.
Our interview has been a distressin' one, Lady Twombley. It is over.
LADY TWOMBLEY.
Mr. Lebanon! Mr. Lebanon! [He turns his chair from her. To herself.]
It's all up with me. I--I'll go and find pa, and tell him. There's no
help for it--I'll tell him. Mr. Lebanon! For the last time--have
compassion on a poor fool of a woman! [He turns away.] Oh! I'll go to
pa's room and--tell him. [She goes out.]
MR. JOSEPH LEBANON.
That's one way to the old gentleman's room. [He opens the door and
listens.] Ah! what's the latest quotation for lovely woman's weakness?
[VALENTINE enters with MRS. GAYLUSTRE and MACPHAIL, who looks very
scared, has a handkerchief bound round his knee, and leans on MRS.
GAYLUSTRE'S arm. She supports him to a chair.]
MRS. GAYLUSTRE.
[To SIR COLIN.] Lean on your poor broken-hearted friend.
MR. JOSEPH LEBANON.
[To himself.] Oh, the dooce!
VALENTINE WHITE.
I'll find Lady Macphail. [He goes out.]
MRS. GAYLUSTRE.
[Whispering to LEBANON.] Get out of sight!
MR. JOSEPH LEBANON.
[Quietly to her.] Can't. I must wait here--I've got an important little
affair on.
MRS. GAYLUSTRE.
So have I. Leave us!
MR. JOSEPH LEBANON.
Oh, my goodness, how selfish you are, Fanny!
MRS. GAYLUSTRE.
Selfish! you'll ruin my prospects in life! Brute!
MR. JOSEPH LEBANON.
Vixen!
MRS. GAYLUSTRE.
Bah!
MR. JOSEPH LEBANON.
Bah!
[LEBANON goes out. MRS. GAYLUSTRE throws herself on her knees beside
MACPHAIL.]
MRS. GAYLUSTRE.
How do you feel now?
MACPHAIL.
Well, its tingling.
MRS. GAYLUSTRE.
Tingling! You bear it like a hero.
MACPHAIL.
I appreciate the compliment, but I'm thinking I'm only a bit singed.
MRS. GAYLUSTRE.
Ah, but why, why do you indulge in these reckless sports?
MACPHAIL.
I was merely sitting in the drag looking at the sky.
MRS. GAYLUSTRE.
Sitting in the drag looking at the sky! How foolhardy!
MACPHAIL.
Whereupon your brother, without a word of warning, blazed away at my
knee.
MRS. GAYLUSTRE.
Ah, don't describe it! Suppose you had had your head on your knee!
LADY MACPHAIL.
[Outside.] Take me to Colin!
MACPHAIL.
My mother!
MRS. GAYLUSTRE.
[To herself.] Drat your mother.
[She stands with her handkerchief to her eyes. LADY MACPHAIL enters with
EGIDIA, the DOWAGER, LADY EUPHEMIA, and VALENTINE.]
EGIDIA.
Sir Colin!
DOWAGER.
[Sitting at writing-table.] I'll telegraph to Sir George McHarness, the
surgeon.
LADY MACPHAIL.
Now let the wail of the lament waken the echoes of black Ben-Muchty!
MACPHAIL.
[Rising from the chair.] It's not at all necessary, mother.
EGIDIA.
He can stand!
DOWAGER.
[Writing.] "Bring--chloroform--and knives."
LADY MACPHAIL.
Ah, Colin, lad, why did we ever quit the gray shores of Loch-na-Doich?
MACPHAIL.
I'll go upstairs and bathe my knee, mother.
[LADY MACPHAIL leads him.]
EGIDIA.
He can walk!
LADY MACPHAIL.
Madam, a Macphail can always walk under any circumstances.
DOWAGER.
[Reading the telegram she has written.] "If--in--doubt--amputate."
[LADY MACPHAIL, MACPHAIL, VALENTINE, LADY EUPHEMIA, EGIDIA, and the
DOWAGER go out.]
MRS. GAYLUSTRE.
[Weeping till the others are out of sight.] Joseph will die of remorse!
[Calling.] The coast is clear, Joseph. Jo!
[As she goes out LADY TWOMBLEY enters in great agitation, clutching an
important-looking document.]
LADY TWOMBLEY.
Kitty, what have you done! Kitty, what have you done!
[LEBANON enters.]
MR. JOSEPH LEBANON.
Lady T! Thought so! [Seeing the paper.] Oh my goodness, what has she got
there?
LADY TWOMBLEY.
I must--I must find Julian! Oh!
MR. JOSEPH LEBANON.
[Snatching the paper from her.] Excuse me!
LADY TWOMBLEY.
Ah! give me back that paper!
MR. JOSEPH LEBANON.
Lady T, oh, Lady T!
LADY TWOMBLEY.
[Following him round the table.] Give me back that paper! Dear, sweet
Mr. Lebanon!
MR. JOSEPH LEBANON.
[Reading the paper.] Ha!
LADY TWOMBLEY.
Ah! don't read it!
MR. JOSEPH LEBANON.
My friend Sir Julian's own writing! The Rajputana Canal is a blessed
fact! Lady Twombley, I forget my wounded pride, I forgive the blow to my
self-respect. You have won a place in Jo Lebanon's heart.
LADY TWOMBLEY.
Give me back that paper and forget it!
MR. JOSEPH LEBANON.
[Returning the paper.] Give it you back? Delighted. Forget it? Oh, Lady
T, Lady T.
LADY TWOMBLEY.
Devil!
MR. JOSEPH LEBANON.
Lady Twombley, Joseph Lebanon is, above all things, a man of honour.
[Handing Bills to LADY TWOMBLEY.] Lovely woman's Acceptances.
LADY TWOMBLEY.
I won't take them. I won't buy them back at such a price.
MR. JOSEPH LEBANON.
Natural delicacy. [Laying the Bills on the table.] You can pick 'em up
when I'm gone.
LADY TWOMBLEY.
Oh, what a wicked woman I am!
MR. JOSEPH LEBANON.
I can get out of these beastly clothes, drive to Strachlachan Junction,
and wire to town before feedin' time. The city is on the eve of a
financial earthquake! Joseph's name will be a 'ouse'old word from Mile
End to Kensington! Lady Twombley, we meet at the hop to-morrow night for
the last time--in Society. [Boisterously.] Whoop! Dash Society! [He
performs a few steps of a Highland dance.] Excuse my humour. [He goes
out.]
LADY TWOMBLEY.
The Bills! The Bills! They mustn't lie there.
[As she goes to the table SIR JULIAN, looking very white and
dishevelled, enters, and, standing opposite to her, takes up the Bills
and presents them to her.]
LADY TWOMBLEY.
Pa!
SIR JULIAN TWOMBLEY.
Lady Twombley!
LADY TWOMBLEY.
Oh, my gracious!
[She drops on her hands and knees at SIR JULIAN'S feet.]
LADY TWOMBLEY.
You've found me out, pa! You've found me out!
SIR JULIAN TWOMBLEY.
I have found you out.
LADY TWOMBLEY.
How did you manage it?
SIR JULIAN TWOMBLEY.
By degrading myself to the position of an eavesdropper.
LADY TWOMBLEY.
That's pretty mean, pa--ain't it?
[Seeing that he is examining the Bills she puts up her hands and seizes
them.]
LADY TWOMBLEY.
Ah! Don't tot 'em up! Don't tot 'em up!
SIR JULIAN TWOMBLEY.
Katherine, when I first saw you, three-and-twenty years ago, you were
standing over a tub in the tiled yard of your father's farm wringing
out your little sister's pinafores.
LADY TWOMBLEY.
[Weeping.] Oh-h-h!
SIR JULIAN TWOMBLEY.
Could I have looked forward I should have known that you would one day
wring my feelings as you do now.
LADY TWOMBLEY.
Pa, I've fallen into the hands of the unscrupulous.
SIR JULIAN TWOMBLEY.
Woman!
LADY TWOMBLEY.
Oh, don't call me that, pa!
SIR JULIAN TWOMBLEY.
The unscrupulous! You have lost the right to ever again use that
serviceable word.
LADY TWOMBLEY.
What do you mean?
SIR JULIAN TWOMBLEY.
How do you come by those Bills?
LADY TWOMBLEY.
Julian, you know! [Going toward him on her knees frantically.] Ah, don't
stare like that! [Putting her arms round him.] Husband! Dear husband,
you are glaring like an idiot! Listen! [She shakes him violently.]
Listen! When that reptile tempted me I ran upstairs intending to tell
you all. I did. Oh, pa, don't stare at nothing! I knocked at your door;
there was a drumming in my ears, and I fancied your voice answered me
telling me to enter. Oh, try winking, pa, try winking! Your room was
empty--left unguarded, the door unlocked. I entered. Wink, pa; for
mercy's sake, wink! I sank into a chair to wait for your coming, [Taking
the written paper from her pocket.] and there, on your table, right
before my eyes, I saw this thing like a white ghost.
SIR JULIAN TWOMBLEY.
A memorandum in my writing that the concession for the Rajputana Canal
is to be granted.
LADY TWOMBLEY.
Yes, yes. I tried to forget it was there. But the chairs and tables
seemed to dance before me and every object in the room had a voice
crying out, "Kitty, you silly woman, get back your Bills from that demon
who is plaguing you!" I put my fingers in my ears and then the voices
were shut up in my brain, and still they shrieked, "Kitty, get back your
Bills! Get back your Bills!" I snatched up this paper and ran from the
room. Even then if I had met you, Julian, I should have been safe; but
whenever Old Nick wants to play the deuce with a married lady he begins
by taking her husband for a stroll, and so I fell into Lebanon's
clutches--and I--I--I'm done for! [She sinks into a chair.]
SIR JULIAN TWOMBLEY.
Katherine, those Bills must be returned to the creature, Lebanon.
LADY TWOMBLEY.
Yes. And--and--pa, dear, you'll never speak kindly to me after this,
will you?
SIR JULIAN TWOMBLEY.
I trust I shall be invariably polite to you, Katherine.
LADY TWOMBLEY.
Oh-h-h! We shall be whitewashed in the Bankruptcy Court eventually, I
suppose?
SIR JULIAN TWOMBLEY.
All in good time, Katherine.
LADY TWOMBLEY.
And then--what then?
SIR JULIAN TWOMBLEY.
Then we must hope for a cottage, and a small garden where we can grow
our own vegetables and learn wisdom.
LADY TWOMBLEY.
Our--own--vegetables. And years hence, pa, sometimes when I am sitting
over my knitting, you'll forget the past, and play your flute again, and
be happy?
SIR JULIAN TWOMBLEY.
Katherine! [He takes his flute from his pocket and breaks it into pieces
across his knee.] Never, never again, Katherine. [As he is leaving her.]
One pang of remorse I can spare you, Katherine.
LADY TWOMBLEY.
Don't!
SIR JULIAN TWOMBLEY.
You believe you have betrayed a solemn secret of the Government to that
unprincipled money-lender.
LADY TWOMBLEY.
Of course.
SIR JULIAN TWOMBLEY.
That you have _not_ done.
LADY TWOMBLEY.
Pa!
SIR JULIAN TWOMBLEY.
No, Katherine. Overhearing his shameful proposition, and fearing your
weakness, I had time to hasten to my room, conceal all important papers,
and scribble the memorandum you abstracted.
LADY TWOMBLEY.
Why, then----
SIR JULIAN TWOMBLEY.
That writing records the exact reverse of the truth.
LADY TWOMBLEY.
And--and Joseph?
SIR JULIAN TWOMBLEY.
In the language of the vulgar--Mr. Lebanon is sold. [He goes out.]
LADY TWOMBLEY.
Julian! Ah! [Staring at the paper.] The exact reverse of the truth! Then
the Rajputana Canal----Julian, why should you be first blackened and
then whitewashed because of your vagabond wife? A cottage--our our own
vegetables! Never! Why shouldn't _I_ have _my_ delicate little financial
operations in the City? Oh, my gracious!
[DRUMDURRIS and BROOKE enter.]
BROOKE TWOMBLEY.
Hullo, Mater--what!
LADY TWOMBLEY.
Brooke! Keith! You boys must drive me over to Strachlachan Junction. I
must telegraph to London backwards and forwards all day. Keith, put me
into communication with your Stockbroker in town!
EARL OF DRUMDURRIS.
Aunt!
LADY TWOMBLEY.
Silence! I'm on the brink of some delicate little financial operations!
[To BROOKE.] Get out the cart!
BROOKE TWOMBLEY.
The drag's outside.
LADY TWOMBLEY.
Come on!
[LEBANON enters hastily.]
MR. JOSEPH LEBANON.
Hi, Drumdurris! Let me 'ave a carriage to go to Strachlachan Junction. I
want to wire to town.
LADY TWOMBLEY.
Do you? So do we. We'll give you a lift. Come on! [They all hurry out.]
END OF THE THIRD ACT.
THE FOURTH ACT.
DANCING.
The scene is still the inner hall of Drumdurris Castle, now brilliantly
lighted and florally decorated, the evening after the events of the
previous act.
Waltz-music is heard, then a slight scream, and LEBANON, in full
Highland costume, enters hastily.
MR. JOSEPH LEBANON.
I wouldn't 'ave 'ad it 'appen for 'alf a sovereign.
[THE MUNKITTRICK, a fiery old gentleman in Highland dress, enters.]
THE MUNKITTRICK.
Sir, I am most indignant!
MR. JOSEPH LEBANON.
I've explained. I felt myself goin' and I caught at what came nearest.
THE MUNKITTRICK.
My daughter came nearest.
MR. JOSEPH LEBANON.
I know. Don't make such a fuss about it! Do remember we're at a ball!
THE MUNKITTRICK.
Miss Munkittrick is torn to ribbons.
MR. JOSEPH LEBANON.
All right. Make light of it--make light of it, like I do.
THE MUNKITTRICK.
Ah-h-h!
[DRUMDURRIS, in Highland dress, enters with MISS MUNKITTRICK, who is
much discomposed, and EGIDIA, who is soothing her.]
EARL OF DRUMDURRIS.
[To MUNKITTRICK.] My dear sir!
MISS MUNKITTRICK.
Papa!
EGIDIA.
Oh, Flora, Flora!
THE MUNKITTRICK.
Lord Drumdurris!
MR. JOSEPH LEBANON.
Let it blow over. We're all forgettin' we're at a ball.
THE MUNKITTRICK.
Miss Munkittrick has been rolled upon the floor.
MR. JOSEPH LEBANON.
She was passin' at the time--I didn't select her. Don't be so conceited!
[LEBANON continues to explain. MUNKITTRICK is indignant; DRUMDURRIS
endeavors to soothe him. BROOKE enters carrying a satin shoe, which he
presents to MISS MUNKITTRICK.]
BROOKE TWOMBLEY.
Awfully sorry--what? [BROOKE hurries out.]
MISS MUNKITTRICK.
Where is papa?
[IMOGEN enters, carrying an aigrette.]
IMOGEN.
Oh, Miss Munkittrick, what a shocking mishap!
[They fasten the aigrette in MISS MUNKITTRICK'S hair.]
MISS MUNKITTRICK.
Have you seen my papa?
[LADY EUPHEMIA, carrying a sash, hurries in as IMOGEN goes off. MISS
MUNKITTRICK rises; LADY EUPHEMIA and EGIDIA adjust the sash hastily.]
LADY EUPHEMIA VIBART.
[Adjusting the sash.] My dear Flora, this is _too_ unfortunate!
[BROOKE re-enters with another shoe.]
BROOKE TWOMBLEY.
The other--what! [To LADY EUPHEMIA.] There are some more pieces--come
and help.
[BROOKE and LADY EUPHEMIA hurry out.]
MISS MUNKITTRICK.
I want my papa! [Seeing MUNKITTRICK.] Ah!
THE MUNKITTRICK.
[Giving her his arm.] Flora, we'll go home.
MISS MUNKITTRICK.
Papa, I'm not nearly _all_.
[Her aigrette is very much on one side, her sash is trailing, and she
limps away carrying one slipper.]
EGIDIA.
Pray don't think of going!
MR. JOSEPH LEBANON.
Let it blow over!
EARL OF DRUMDURRIS.
My dear sir!
MR. JOSEPH LEBANON.
Oh, very well, you're losing the best of the ball.
[THE MUNKITTRICK and MISS MUNKITTRICK go out, followed by EGIDIA and
DRUMDURRIS. IMOGEN, LADY EUPHEMIA, and BROOKE enter hastily, each
carrying a fragment of MISS MUNKITTRICK's dress.]
MR. JOSEPH LEBANON.
[Taking the remnants.] Allow me--allow me--my affair.
[IMOGEN, LADY EUPHEMIA, and BROOKE go out. LEBANON crams the pieces of
MISS MUNKITTRICK'S dress under a chair cushion.]
MR. JOSEPH LEBANON.
Let it blow over. Where's my partner?
[He goes out. MACPHAIL enters with MRS. GAYLUSTRE upon his arm.]
MRS. GAYLUSTRE.
Staying out is infinitely preferable to dancing, is it not, dear Sir
Colin?
MACPHAIL.
Aye. I hate dancing.
MRS. GAYLUSTRE.
But your dear mother says you resemble some beautiful wild thing when
you dance the Strathspey.
MACPHAIL.
That's because I hate it; the Strathspey's enough to make a lad wild.
MRS. GAYLUSTRE.
Witty boy!
MACPHAIL.
Eh, do you think I'm naturally quick?
MRS. GAYLUSTRE.
Quick?
MACPHAIL.
Quick in my understanding?
MRS. GAYLUSTRE.
I'm sure of it.
MACPHAIL.
Eh, I'm glad you think I'm quick.
MRS. GAYLUSTRE.
Why?
MACPHAIL.
Because Ballocheevin--that's our place, you understand--Ballocheevin is
enough to soften a lad's brain.
MRS. GAYLUSTRE.
Then why hide your light at Ballocheevin?
MACPHAIL.
Well, the Macphails have lived there since eleven hundred and two.
MRS. GAYLUSTRE.
How romantic!
MACPHAIL.
So mother's just got out of the way of moving.
MRS. GAYLUSTRE.
Charming attachment to an old home.
MACPHAIL.
Aye, it's old. It hasn't been papered and done up since Robert Bruce
stayed with us.
MRS. GAYLUSTRE.
Robert Bruce!
MACPHAIL.
Aye--just from a Saturday till Monday, I'm thinking.
MRS. GAYLUSTRE.
There must be a legend attached to every stone of Ballocheevin.
MACPHAIL.
Aye, it's interesting--but it requires papering. I am so tired of
Ballocheevin.
MRS. GAYLUSTRE.
But you love the rugged country, the vast overwhelming hills, and the
placid lochs?
MACPHAIL.
Mother's been telling you that.
MRS. GAYLUSTRE.
Isn't it true?
MACPHAIL.
Eh, I am just weary of my native scenery.
MRS. GAYLUSTRE.
But what about the misty chasms of Ben-Muchty?
MACPHAIL.
That's an awfully damp place. That's where I caught my bad cold.
MRS. GAYLUSTRE.
And the gray shore of Loch-na-Doich? Your mother says you adore it.
MACPHAIL.
Eh, I am sick of Loch-na-Doich.
MRS. GAYLUSTRE.
And your feet don't ache to press the heather?
MACPHAIL.
It's when they're _on_ the heather my feet ache. It's poor walking,
heather.
MRS. GAYLUSTRE.
Then you don't watch the sun rise from the jagged summit of
Ben-na-fechan?
MACPHAIL.
[Cunningly.] Eh, but I do though, every day when I'm at home.
MRS. GAYLUSTRE.
But why?
MACPHAIL.
To get away from mother.
MRS. GAYLUSTRE.
Poor boy!
MACPHAIL.
[Reflectively.] I've been thinking----
MRS. GAYLUSTRE.
Yes?
MACPHAIL.
That you'd better let go my arm now.
MRS. GAYLUSTRE.
Sir Colin!
MACPHAIL.
I've no personal objection, you understand; but mother's always looking
for me.
MRS. GAYLUSTRE.
How thoughtless I am! [He walks away.] Sir Colin!
MACPHAIL.
Aye?
MRS. GAYLUSTRE.
Your mother is driving you to contract this marriage with Miss Twombley.
MACPHAIL.
Well, mother's just making the arrangements.
MRS. GAYLUSTRE.
Your great heart hasn't gone out to her! Unhappiness must ensue! Your
bright career will be dimmed!
MACPHAIL.
Will be _what?_
MRS. GAYLUSTRE.
Dimmed. What did you think I said? Oh, Sir Colin, don't carry this
unsuitable bride to Ballocheevin!
MACPHAIL.
Well, it's a serious step; but I've been thinking it would be another in
the house.
MRS. GAYLUSTRE.
You don't want another in the house. You need a strong, self-reliant
wife who will take you out of the house.
MACPHAIL.
Eh?
MRS. GAYLUSTRE.
A woman, loving but firm, tender but enterprising, who will bear you
from your dilapidated home and plunge you into the vortex of some great
city. [Suddenly.] Have you ever been to Paris?
MACPHAIL.
No.
MRS. GAYLUSTRE.
I know every inch of it!
MACPHAIL.
Madam!
MRS. GAYLUSTRE.
Oh, what have I said! Sir Colin, you have guessed my secret!
[MACPHAIL produces his ball-programme from his stocking and refers to
it.]
MACPHAIL.
I'm engaged to Miss Kilbouie for this waltz, if you'll excuse me.
MRS. GAYLUSTRE.
[Holding out her hand to him.] Colin.
MACPHAIL.
I'm thinking mother will be wondering----
MRS. GAYLUSTRE.
[To herself.] Drat your moth---- [To MACPHAIL.] Never mind dear Lady
Macphail for a moment. Colin, since you have discovered my love for you
I will make no further reservation----
MACPHAIL.
But mother----
MRS. GAYLUSTRE.
[Under her breath.] Drat your---- [To MACPHAIL.] Colin, I will be to you
the wife you have described.
MACPHAIL.
I'm extremely obliged to ye--but----
MRS. GAYLUSTRE.
Hush, bold boy! [She gives him a card.]
MRS. GAYLUSTRE.
You know my cruel brother takes me back to town to-morrow. Here is my
address so that you may write to me constantly, devotedly.
MACPHAIL.
[Reading the card.] "Mauricette & Cie., Court Dressmakers----"
MRS. GAYLUSTRE.
[Snatching the card from him.] That's a wrong 'un--I mean, that's a
mistake. [Giving another.] There. Hide it away, dear one--nearest your
heart.
[He slips it into his stocking.]
MACPHAIL.
Oh!
MRS. GAYLUSTRE.
And now, as I start in the morning at nine-forty-five, sharp, on the
tick, we must say farewell. Oh, this parting is too cruel. Colin!
[She falls against him.]
MACPHAIL.
Here's my mother! [He throws her off.]
MRS. GAYLUSTRE.
[Under her breath.] Drat your mother!
[LADY MACPHAIL enters.]
LADY MACPHAIL.
Madam. [To MACPHAIL.] Why do you leave the ball-room, my lad?
MACPHAIL.
I've been just watching the moonlight on Loch Auchentoshan.
LADY MACPHAIL.
I am proud to see this devotion to Loch Auchentoshan, but to-night you
have other duties almost equally important. After this paltry waltz we
lose ourselves in the wild pleasures of our native dance.
MACPHAIL.
The Strathspey? [He takes MRS. GAYLUSTRE'S card from his stocking.] Oh!
[Hides it and produces his ball-programme from his other stocking.] The
Strathspey.
LADY MACPHAIL.
Come, lad. They have yet to see the Macphail lead the Strathspey with
his betrothed.
[They go out together.]
MRS. GAYLUSTRE.
Yes, and they shall ultimately see the Macphail writing love-letters to
Fanny--love-letters with a promise of marriage in 'em. I'll consult a
solicitor directly I reach town and be ready to marry or to sue him. Oh,
Fanny, Fanny, ungrateful girl, what a lot you have to be thankful for!
[She runs out and ANGELE peeps in.]
ANGELE.
Milord! Miladi! [She enters.] I must find miladi! Miladi!
[LADY TWOMBLEY enters.]
LADY TWOMBLEY.
No news from Reeves & Shuckleback, the Stockbrokers. The waiting for it
will finish me!
ANGELE.
Oh, Miladi Twombley.
LADY TWOMBLEY.
[Turning to her sharply.] Ah!
ANGELE.
Tell me, vere is milord?
LADY TWOMBLEY.
What! Has a messenger come from Strachlachan with a telegram for Lord
Drumdurris? Speak?
ANGELE.
I do not know.
LADY TWOMBLEY.
Oh!
ANGELE.
But, oh, miladi, I 'ave been a vicked girl!
LADY TWOMBLEY.
I dare say you have--that's your business.
ANGELE.
Miladi, ze leetle Lord Aberbrothock is indispose.
LADY TWOMBLEY.
The baby?
ANGELE.
Yees. To please milord, and contrary to miladi's ordares, I put Lord
Aberbrothock to bed wiz his gun.
LADY TWOMBLEY.
I know--I'm a mother--the child has swallowed the paint!
ANGELE.
Ah, yees!
LADY TWOMBLEY.
Send a groom to Strachlachan for Dr. M'Gubbie.
ANGELE.
Yees, miladi.
LADY TWOMBLEY.
Angele!
ANGELE.
Miladi?
LADY TWOMBLEY.
Tell the man to inquire at Strachlachan for telegrams for the Castle.
ANGELE.
Yees, miladi. [ANGELE runs out.]
LADY TWOMBLEY.
Oh, for a telegram from Reeves & Shuckleback! My diamonds, my double row
of pearls for a telegram from Reeves & Shuckleback!
[EGIDIA enters with ANGELE, followed by DRUMDURRIS.]
EGIDIA.
Lady Twombley!
LADY TWOMBLEY.
Has Keith had a telegram?
EGIDIA.
A telegram--no. My son is ill!
LADY TWOMBLEY.
Oh, I know--he has nibbled his gun.
EGIDIA.
His gun!
ANGELE.
Yees, miladi.
EGIDIA.
Ah! The Army! [To DRUMDURRIS.] So you have gained your own ends after
all, Keith, and my boy has fallen.
[EGIDIA goes out, followed by ANGELE. DRUMDURRIS sinks into a chair.]
LADY TWOMBLEY.
Keith.
EARL OF DRUMDURRIS.
Don't speak to me, please, aunt.
LADY TWOMBLEY.
I must. Reeves & Shuckleback are strangely silent.
EARL OF DRUMDURRIS.
Let them remain so--I care not.
LADY TWOMBLEY.
You don't care! Surely you are anxious to know whether you have been
instrumental in saving me from--from growing my own vegetables?
EARL OF DRUMDURRIS.
Growing your own----
LADY TWOMBLEY.
Surely you want to know whether you have made me a wealthy woman or have
ruined yourself in the effort?
EARL OF DRUMDURRIS.
Ruined myself!
LADY TWOMBLEY.
Keith, dear, I am afraid I haven't done what is strictly regular, but
when you put me into communication with your Stockbrokers I carried on
my delicate little financial operations with them in your name.
EARL OF DRUMDURRIS.
Aunt Kate!
LADY TWOMBLEY.
Keith, you're annoyed!
EARL OF DRUMDURRIS.
May I ask what delicate little financial operations?
LADY TWOMBLEY.
I've speculated on the strength of my private knowledge of the decision
of the Government on the Rajputana Canal Question--I mean _you_ have
speculated.
EARL OF DRUMDURRIS.
Aunt Twombley, how dare you do such a thing?
LADY TWOMBLEY.
How dare I! Boy--for you are little more--boy, you wouldn't have a
Cabinet Minister's wife take advantage of her confidential acquaintance
with her husband's official affairs to advance her own interests! Oh,
Keith!
EARL OF DRUMDURRIS.
But you've done it!
LADY TWOMBLEY.
No, I haven't. Don't be so dull, _you've_ done it.
EARL OF DRUMDURRIS.
And if your delicate little financial operations----
LADY TWOMBLEY.
If they come off, you have made what you men call a pile, Keith. All
through your blundering aunty you will have made a pile.
EARL OF DRUMDURRIS.
Which I hand over to you, Aunt Kate?
LADY TWOMBLEY.
I shall borrow it, Keith, dear--may I?
EARL OF DRUMDURRIS.
And if--pardon the question--if your delicate little financial
operations----
LADY TWOMBLEY.
Don't come off?
EARL OF DRUMDURRIS.
Certainly; if they don't come off, what then?
LADY TWOMBLEY.
Then through your reckless speculation you will have impoverished your
estate for the rest of your life!
EARL OF DRUMDURRIS.
Aunt!
[EGIDIA enters.]
EGIDIA.
Keith!
EARL OF DRUMDURRIS.
Tell me.
EGIDIA.
Fergus has taken a turn for the better.
EARL OF DRUMDURRIS.
Egidia, how can I look you in the face?
EGIDIA.
Cannot we read a lesson from this dreadful occurrence?
EARL OF DRUMDURRIS.
To reconcile our views?
EGIDIA.
Finally. You see now how unfitted our son is to a soldier's life.
EARL OF DRUMDURRIS.
Yes, I have been wrong. Happily it is not too late to remould his
character. We must return to the ball-room.
EGIDIA.
First come with me and peep into the nursery.
EARL OF DRUMDURRIS.
By all means--the nursery.
TOGETHER.
The nursery.
[They go out as the DOWAGER enters.]
DOWAGER.
Katherine!
LADY TWOMBLEY.
Dora?
DOWAGER.
I am beside myself! Have you heard the news?
LADY TWOMBLEY.
News? Telegrams for Keith?
DOWAGER.
I know nothing about telegrams. I've just overheard Julian talking
solemnly to Brooke. Do you know what your husband intends to do?
LADY TWOMBLEY.
Grow his own vegetables.
DOWAGER.
Bother his vegetables! He resigns his place in the Ministry.
LADY TWOMBLEY.
The same thing. [To herself.] Ah, why can't he wait!
[SIR JULIAN enters with BROOKE.]
SIR JULIAN TWOMBLEY.
Katherine, I have been telling Brooke of the change in his prospects.
BROOKE TWOMBLEY.
I say, Mater, such a blow--what!
LADY TWOMBLEY.
Pa, why can't you wait?
SIR JULIAN TWOMBLEY.
Wait--for what, Katherine?
DOWAGER.
Wait till the boy can patch up his future with a wealthy wife, of
course.
SIR JULIAN TWOMBLEY.
Really, Dora, I don't think it would be absolutely fair----
DOWAGER.
Fair! People's actions are like their heads of hair--they can be dyed
flaxen. [To BROOKE.] Boy, why do you let the grass grow under your
pumps in this way?
BROOKE TWOMBLEY.
I haven't let the grass grow, Aunt Dora. I--ah--I have the happiness to
be engaged--what!
LADY TWOMBLEY.
Engaged!
SIR JULIAN TWOMBLEY.
Bless my soul!
DOWAGER.
In mercy's name, to whom?
BROOKE TWOMBLEY.
To Effie.
LADY TWOMBLEY and SIR JULIAN TWOMBLEY.
Euphemia!
DOWAGER.
Euphemia! Why, how dare you conspire to entrap a child of mine into a
moneyless marriage?
SIR JULIAN TWOMBLEY.
My dear Dora, you yourself suggested----
DOWAGER.
If I may be guilty of such an expression--fall-lall!
BROOKE TWOMBLEY.
But, aunt----
DOWAGER.
Hold your tongue, sir! Ah, I believe you all have abominable motives!
LADY TWOMBLEY.
[To herself.] The telegram! The telegram! Why is there no telegram?
[The music of the Strathspey is heard. IMOGEN enters with LADY
EUPHEMIA.]
DOWAGER.
Euphemia!
[LADY EUPHEMIA joins the others. IMOGEN goes to LADY TWOMBLEY in
agitation.]
IMOGEN.
Mamma! The Strathspey!
LADY TWOMBLEY.
What of it?
IMOGEN.
I'm engaged to dance it with Sir Colin. Oh, mamma, I don't love him!
LADY TWOMBLEY.
Child, you loved him the other night while your head was being washed.
IMOGEN.
I didn't see clearly then--the egg-julep was in my eyes. But now Lady
Macphail is running after me, from one room to another, because she
declares I must fulfil the destiny of a Macphail's betrothed and lead
the Strathspey by his side. But I won't dance a deception before a room
full of people!
LADY TWOMBLEY.
Imogen, there is nothing for you but this marriage or contemptible,
cleanly poverty.
IMOGEN.
Poverty!
LADY TWOMBLEY.
Child, you are young to be told these things--but what do you think is
likely to happen to pa and me?
IMOGEN.
Mamma, keep nothing from me.
LADY TWOMBLEY.
In all probability we shall grow our own vegetables.
IMOGEN.
Oh! What for?
LADY TWOMBLEY.
_For_ dinner. And, oh, Imogen, have pity on your mother! I can face
contemptible, cleanly poverty with pa alone, but if I see my innocent
chicks sharing our miseries every cabbage in our garden will grow up
with a broken heart!
[She embraces IMOGEN. LADY MACPHAIL enters with MACPHAIL.]
LADY MACPHAIL.
Miss Twombley, Lord Drumdurris's guests are politely waiting till you
are pleased to lead the Strathspey with the Macphail.
MACPHAIL.
Miss Twombley.
IMOGEN.
[Quietly to LADY TWOMBLEY.] Mamma!
LADY TWOMBLEY.
[To herself.] No telegram from town. [To IMOGEN.] Imogen, you had better
not lose your dance.
[With a slight courtesy to MACPHAIL, IMOGEN gives him her arm as
VALENTINE enters, trimmed, shaven, and in immaculate evening dress.]
BROOKE TWOMBLEY.
Why, Val!
LADY EUPHEMIA VIBART.
Mr. White!
VALENTINE WHITE.
Imogen!
IMOGEN.
[Leaving MACPHAIL.] Valentine!
LADY TWOMBLEY.
Valentine White!
VALENTINE WHITE.
Imogen, am I too late?
IMOGEN.
Too late?
VALENTINE WHITE.
For the honor of dancing with you to-night?
IMOGEN.
You--you are in time, Valentine.
VALENTINE WHITE.
For which dance?
IMOGEN.
This dance.
MACPHAIL.
Mother!
DOWAGER.
The child's mad!
LADY MACPHAIL.
Stop the Strathspey! Stop the Strathspey!
[She hurries out, followed by MACPHAIL.]
SIR JULIAN TWOMBLEY.
Mr. White, really you shouldn't, you know.
[The music ceases.]
VALENTINE WHITE.
Sir Julian, Lady Twombley, with your permission I shall go no further to
avoid the shams of life. I have found one cool resting-place in this
world where there is reality and sincerity. [With IMOGEN'S hands in
his.] And I have found it in an advanced state of civilization.
[The DOWAGER pulls IMOGEN away.]
SIR JULIAN TWOMBLEY.
I positively must beg----
DOWAGER.
[To IMOGEN.] Child, at this moment I feel grateful that I am your aunt,
with all an aunt's privileges. [She shakes her.]
IMOGEN.
Mamma!
LADY TWOMBLEY.
[Seizing IMOGEN.] My chick, your mother has privileges also. Bless you
and Valentine. [Kissing her.] There! Dora, if you shake my girl again
I--I'll slap you!
DOWAGER.
Ah! Julian!
[DRUMDURRIS appears with a telegram.]
EARL OF DRUMDURRIS.
Aunt!
LADY TWOMBLEY.
What's that?
EARL OF DRUMDURRIS.
From Reeves & Shuckleback!
[She snatches the telegram from him.]
EVERYBODY.
What's the matter?
LADY TWOMBLEY.
Julian, look at your wife! Brooke, Imogen, come to your mother! No more
worries by day and bad dreams at night! No poverty--no cottage--no--no
vegetables! I--I am a rich woman!
[She falls back fainting into SIR JULIAN'S arms as they all surround
her. At the same moment LEBANON rushes in with MRS. GAYLUSTRE. He has a
telegram in his hand; his aspect is wild, his face white.]
MR. JOSEPH LEBANON.
Lady Twombley! Where is she? Lady Twombley!
[As LADY TWOMBLEY is assisted to a chair LEBANON falls into another.]
IMOGEN.
Mamma!
MRS. GAYLUSTRE.
Joseph!
IMOGEN.
Ah!
MRS. GAYLUSTRE.
Ah!
SIR JULIAN TWOMBLEY.
Be quiet! Lady Twombley is ill!
MRS. GAYLUSTRE.
Ill! Look at Joseph! My only brother!
SIR JULIAN TWOMBLEY.
Keith, explain this telegram or my brain will give way.
DOWAGER.
No, no--tell me. My brain is stronger than Sir Julian's.
EARL OF DRUMDURRIS.
[To SIR JULIAN and the DOWAGER apart.] Mother--Sir Julian----
MR. JOSEPH LEBANON.
I want a word or two with my friend, Lady T.
[MRS. GAYLUSTRE arranges his chair so that he faces LADY TWOMBLEY. She
and LEBANON stare at each other.]
MR. JOSEPH LEBANON.
Oh!
LADY TWOMBLEY.
Ah!
MR. JOSEPH LEBANON.
Lady T.
LADY TWOMBLEY.
Hullo?
MR. JOSEPH LEBANON.
I've 'ad a wire.
LADY TWOMBLEY.
So have I.
MR. JOSEPH LEBANON.
From Moss & Emanuel, my brokers.
LADY TWOMBLEY.
Mine is from Reeves & Shuckleback.
MR. JOSEPH LEBANON.
Oh, I see--_your_ brokers. You've done me, Lady T.
LADY TWOMBLEY.
Don't mention it.
MR. JOSEPH LEBANON.
You're a knowing one.
LADY TWOMBLEY.
I'm sure I'm very gratified to hear you say so.
MR. JOSEPH LEBANON.
The Bills! Give me the Bills you swindled me out of!
[He advances violently, but MRS. GAYLUSTRE holds him back. LADY TWOMBLEY
hands the Bills to SIR JULIAN.]
MRS. GAYLUSTRE.
Jo!
SIR JULIAN TWOMBLEY.
Mr. Lebanon, the Bills, sir. [Giving them.]
[LEBANON snaps his fingers demonstratively in SIR JULIAN'S face.]
MR. JOSEPH LEBANON.
Drum., thank you for your _recherche_ hospitality. Carriage to the
station in the morning, if you please. [Kissing his hands.] Ladies----
[Breaking down.] Oh, Fanny, take me to bed!
[He goes out. MRS. GAYLUSTRE is about to follow, when LADY MACPHAIL
enters with MACPHAIL.]
LADY MACPHAIL.
Madam! My boy--my poor lad--has told me of your behaviour.
MRS. GAYLUSTRE.
My behaviour! He loves me!
LADY MACPHAIL.
Colin!
MACPHAIL.
I thought I'd just better mention the affair to mother.
MRS. GAYLUSTRE.
Of course; conceal nothing from your parent.
MACPHAIL.
And mother agrees with me----
MRS. GAYLUSTRE.
Yes?
MACPHAIL.
That it would be just a risky matter to correspond with a widow lady.
MRS. GAYLUSTRE.
Oh!
MACPHAIL.
[Producing MRS. GAYLUSTRE's card from his stocking.] So I'm thinking I
sha'n't require this address.
MRS. GAYLUSTRE.
Ah! [She slaps his face violently and runs out.]
EVERYBODY.
Oh!
MACPHAIL.
Mother!
[LADY MACPHAIL embraces him. The music of the Strathspey is heard
again.]
[EGIDIA enters.]
EGIDIA.
The Strathspey. Come into the ball-room. What has happened?
LADY TWOMBLEY.
I can't enter the ball-room again to-night!
EARL OF DRUMDURRIS.
But you must dance the Strathspey.
LADY TWOMBLEY.
Must I? Dance then! [They take their places for the dance.] Pa!
Valentine, Imogen! Brooke, Effie! Keith, Egidia! Lady Macphail, Sir
Colin! Dance! Dance with foolish, thoughtless, weak-headed Kitty
Twombley for the last time, for to-morrow she becomes a sober, wise,
happy, and contented woman! Dance!
[They dance the Strathspey and Reel--SIR JULIAN with LADY TWOMBLEY,
DRUMDURRIS with EGIDIA, BROOKE with LADY EUPHEMIA, VALENTINE with
IMOGEN, LADY MACPHAIL with MACPHAIL. The DOWAGER sits apart gloomily.]
SIR JULIAN TWOMBLEY.
[To LADY TWOMBLEY while dancing.] You've been indiscreet again, Kitty.
LADY TWOMBLEY.
Finally, Julian, finally!
SIR JULIAN TWOMBLEY.
No more extravagance?
LADY TWOMBLEY.
Never! Never!
SIR JULIAN TWOMBLEY.
And you resign yourself to a peaceful, rural life?
LADY TWOMBLEY.
Oh!
SIR JULIAN TWOMBLEY.
Promise me--promise me!
LADY TWOMBLEY.
Ha, ha! Dance, pa, dance!
THE END.
=A Selection=
FROM
_MR. WM. HEINEMANN'S LIST_
January 1892.
=The Crown Copyright Series.=
_The changed conditions of publishing in the English-speaking countries,
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INCONSEQUENT LIVES. A Village Chronicle, Shewing how certain Folk set
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[Illustration]
Transcriber's Note.
Stage directions, other than character's names, are italicised in the
original. Italic mark-up in stage directions has been omitted from the
text version of this e-book for ease of reading.
Text marked +text+ is underlined, =text= is Blackletter font, and _text_
is italic in the original. Text originally printed in Small Capitals has
been changed to BLOCK CAPITALS.
The use of both "Lady T." and "Lady T"; "good-by" and "good-bye" is as
per the original.
Typographic errors have been corrected as follows:
On page 135: "[Outside.] Hi, hi! Come here! hi!"--had
'[Ouiside.]'.
Punctuation errors and mismatched brackets have been corrected
without note.