A DESCENT FROM THE CLOUDS
_In the Elizabethan Garden._ Lady MAISIE _and_ UNDERSHELL
_are on a seat in the Yew Walk_. TIME--_About_ 11 A.M.
_Lady Maisie_ (_softly_). And you really meant to go away, and never
let one of us know what had happened to you!
_Undershell_ (_to himself_). How easy it is after all to be a hero!
(_Aloud._) That certainly _was_ my intention, only I was--er--not
permitted to carry it out. I trust you don't consider I should have
been to blame?
_Lady Maisie_ (_with shining eyes_). To _blame_? Mr. Blair! As if I
could possibly do that! (_To herself._) He doesn't even see _how_
splendid it was of him!
_Undershell_ (_to himself_). I begin to believe that I can do _no_
wrong in her eyes! (_Aloud._) It was not altogether easy, believe me,
to leave without even having seen your face; but I felt so strongly
that it was better so.
_Lady Maisie_ (_looking down_). And--do you still feel that?
_Undershell._ I must confess that I am well content to have failed. It
was such unspeakable torture to think that you, Lady Maisie, _you_ of
all people, would derive your sole idea of my personality from such an
irredeemable vulgarian as that veterinary surgeon--the man Spurrell!
_Lady Maisie_ (_to herself, with an almost imperceptible start_). I
suppose it's only natural he should feel like that--but I wish--I _do_
wish he had put it just a little differently! (_Aloud._) Poor Mr.
Spurrell! perhaps he was not exactly----
_Undershell._ Not _exactly_! I assure you it is simply inconceivable
to me that, in a circle of any pretensions to culture and refinement,
an ill-bred boor like that could have been accepted for a single
moment as--I won't say a Man of _Genius_, but----
_Lady Maisie_ (_the light dying out of her eyes_). No, _don't_--don't
go on, Mr. Blair. We were all excessively stupid, no doubt, but you
must make allowances for us--for _me_, especially. I have had so few
opportunities of meeting people who are really distinguished--in
literature, at least. Most of the people I know best are--well, not
exactly _clever_, you know. I so often wish I was in a set that cared
rather more about intellectual things!
_Undershell_ (_with infinite pity_). How you must have pined for freer
air! How you must have starved on such mental provender as, for
example, the vapid and inane commonplaces of that swaggering
carpet-soldier, Captain--Thickset, isn't it?
_Lady Maisie_ (_drawing back into her corner_). You evidently don't
know that Captain Thicknesse distinguished himself greatly in the
Soudan, where he was very severely wounded.
_Undershell._ Possibly; but that is scarcely to the point. I do not
question his efficiency as a fighting animal. As to his intelligence,
perhaps, the less said the better.
_Lady Maisie_ (_contracting her brows_). Decidedly. I ought to have
mentioned at once that Captain Thicknesse is a very old friend of
mine.
_Undershell._ Really? _He_, at least, may be congratulated. But pray
don't think that I spoke with any personal animus; I merely happen to
entertain a peculiar aversion for a class whose profession is
systematic slaughter. In these Democratic times, when Humanity is
advancing by leaps and bounds towards International Solidarity,
soldiers are such grotesque and unnecessary anachronisms.
_Lady Maisie_ (_to herself, with a little shiver_). Oh, why does
he--why _does_ he? (_Aloud._) I should have thought that, until war
itself is an anachronism, men who are willing to fight and die for
their country could never be quite unnecessary. But we won't discuss
Captain Thicknesse, particularly now that he has left Wyvern. Suppose
we go back to Mr. Spurrell. I know, of course, that, in leaving him in
ignorance as you did, you acted from the best and highest motives; but
still----
_Undershell._ It is refreshing to be so thoroughly understood! I think
I know what your "but still" implies--why did I not foresee that he
would infallibly betray himself before long? I _did_. But I gave him
credit for being able to sustain his part for another hour or
two--until I had gone, in fact.
_Lady Maisie._ Then you didn't wish to spare _his_ feelings as well as
ours?
_Undershell._ To be quite frank, I didn't trouble myself about him: my
sole object was to retreat with dignity; he had got himself somehow or
other into a false position he must get out of as best he could. After
all, he would be none the worse for having filled _my_ place for a few
hours.
_Lady Maisie_ (_slowly_). I see. It didn't matter to you whether he
was suspected of being an impostor, or made to feel uncomfortable,
or--or anything. Wasn't that a little unfeeling of you?
_Undershell._ Unfeeling! I allowed him to keep my evening clothes,
which is more than a good many----
_Lady Maisie._ At all events, he may have had to pay more heavily than
you imagine. I wonder whether---- But I suppose anything so unromantic
as the love affairs of a veterinary surgeon would have no interest for
you?
_Undershell._ Why not, Lady Maisie? To the Student of Humanity, and
still more to the Poet, the humblest love-story may have its
interesting--even its suggestive--aspect.
_Lady Maisie._ Well, I may tell you that it seems Mr. Spurrell has
long been attached, if not actually engaged, to a maid of mine.
_Undershell_ (_startled out of his self-possession_). You--you don't
mean to Miss Phillipson?
_Lady Maisie._ That _is_ her name. How very odd that you---- But
perhaps Mr. Spurrell mentioned it to you last night?
_Undershell_ (_recovering his sangfroid_). I am hardly likely to have
heard of it from any other quarter.
_Lady Maisie._ Of course not. And did he tell you that she was here,
in this very house?
_Undershell._ No, he never mentioned _that_. What a remarkable
coincidence!
_Lady Maisie._ Yes, rather. The worst of it is that the foolish girl
seems to have heard that he was a guest here, and have jumped to the
conclusion that he had ceased to care for her; so she revenged herself
by a desperate flirtation with some worthless wretch she met in the
housekeeper's room, whose flattery and admiration, I'm very much
afraid, have completely turned her head!
_Undershell_ (_uncomfortably_). Ah, well, she must learn to forget
him, and no doubt, in time---- How wonderful the pale sunlight is on
that yew hedge!
_Lady Maisie._ You are not very sympathetic! I should not have told
you at all, only I wanted to show you that if poor Mr. Spurrell _did_
innocently usurp your place, he may have lost---- But I see all this
only bores you.
_Undershell._ Candidly, Lady Maisie, I can't affect a very keen
interest in the--er--gossip of the housekeeper's room. Indeed, I am
rather surprised that _you_ should condescend to listen to----
_Lady Maisie_ (_to herself_). This is really _too_ much! (_Aloud._) It
never occurred to me that I was "condescending" in taking an interest
in a pretty and wayward girl who happens to be my maid. But then, I'm
not a Democrat, Mr. Blair.
_Undershell._ I--I'm afraid you construed my remark as a rebuke; which
it was not at all intended to be.
_Lady Maisie._ It would have been rather superfluous if it had been,
wouldn't it? (_Observing his growing uneasiness._) I'm afraid you
don't find this bench quite comfortable?
_Undershell._ I--er--moderately so. (_To himself._) There's a female
figure coming down the terrace steps. It's horribly like---- But that
must be my morbid fancy; still, if I can get Lady Maisie away, just in
case---- (_Aloud._) D--don't you think sitting still becomes a
little--er--monotonous after a time? Couldn't we----
[_He rises, spasmodically._
_Lady Maisie_ (_rising too_). Certainly; we have sat here quite long
enough. It is time we went back.
_Undershell_ (_to himself_). We shall meet her! and I'm almost sure
it's---- I _must_ prevent any---- (_Aloud._) Not _back_, Lady Maisie!
You--you promised to show me the orchid-house--you did, indeed!
_Lady Maisie._ Very well; we can go in, if you care about orchids.
It's on our way back.
_Undershell_ (_to himself_). This is too awful! It _is_ that girl
Phillipson. She is looking for somebody! Me! (_Aloud._) On second
thoughts, I don't think I _do_ care to see the orchids. I detest them;
they are such weird, unnatural, extravagant things. Let us turn back
and see if there are any snowdrops on the lawn behind that hedge. I
love the snowdrop, it is so trustful and innocent, with its pure
green-veined---- _Do_ come and search for snowdrops!
[Illustration: "DO COME AND SEARCH FOR SNOWDROPS!"]
_Lady Maisie._ Not just now. I think--(_as she shields her eyes with
one hand_)--I'm not quite sure yet--but I rather fancy that must be my
maid at the other end of the walk.
_Undershell_ (_eagerly_). _I_ assure you, Lady Maisie, you are quite
mistaken. Not the _least_ like her!
_Lady Maisie_ (_astonished_). Why, how can you possibly tell that,
without having seen her, Mr. Blair?
_Undershell._ I--I meant---- You described her as "pretty," you know.
This girl is plain--distinctly plain!
_Lady Maisie._ I don't agree at all. However, it certainly is
Phillipson, and she seems to have come out in search of me; so I had
better see if she has any message.
_Undershell._ She hasn't. I'm _positive_ she hasn't. She--she wouldn't
walk like _that_ if she had. (_In feverish anxiety._) Lady Maisie,
shall we turn back? She--she hasn't seen us _yet_!
_Lady Maisie._ Really, Mr. Blair! I don't quite see why I should run
away from my own maid!... What is it, Phillipson?
[_She advances to meet_ PHILLIPSON, _leaving_ UNDERSHELL
_behind, motionless_.
_Undershell_ (_to himself_). It's all over! That confounded girl
recognises me. I saw her face change! She'll be jealous, I _know_
she'll be jealous--and then she'll tell Lady Maisie everything!... I
wish to Heaven I could hear what she is saying. Lady Maisie seems
agitated.... I--I might stroll gently on and leave them; but it would
look too like running away, perhaps. No, I'll stay here and face it
out like a man! I won't give up just yet. (_He sinks limply upon the
bench._) After all, I've been in worse holes than this since I came
into this infernal place, and I've always managed to scramble
out--triumphantly too! If she will only give me five minutes alone, I
_know_ I can clear myself; it isn't as if I had done anything to be
_ashamed_ of.... She's sent away that girl. She seems to be expecting
me to come to her.... I--I suppose I'd better.
[_He rises with effort, and goes towards_ Lady MAISIE _with
a jaunty unconsciousness that somehow has the air of
stopping short just above the knees_.