ACT II.

SCENE.--_A Boudoir, opening through a conservatory on to a terrace. Doors, R. and L. A water jug and goblet on table. A week has elapsed. Morning. Lights full up. Music for Act Drop._

_BEATRICE enters, L., as curtain rises. KATE discovered watering plants in conservatory, up in opening, R.C._

BEA. Good morning, Miss Derwent.

KATE. Good morning, Mrs. Selwyn.

BEA. At work, as usual. How industrious you are! (_comes down C., to sofa_)

KATE. Yes--I've been saying good-bye to all my favourites. (_pause--BEATRICE takes up a book--KATE goes on watering the plants_) How is Mr. Selwyn this morning?

BEA. He is not so well. (_her back is towards KATE_)

KATE. I'm sorry to hear that. I hope he will be well enough to shake hands with me before I go.

BEA. Then you are determined to leave us?

KATE. (_leaves can up R.C., and comes down C._) I can't tell you how sorry I am, but I mustn't stop here for ever. Mildred learnt all that I can teach her long ago; and if I stay much longer, I shall be the pupil. Since Mr. Verinder's arrival I have had several lessons in the English language as it is spoken at Eton, and I flatter myself I shall soon be able to "cackle" as well as if I wore a remarkably short jacket and remarkably tight inexpressibles.

BEA. You under-rate your accomplishments. _I_ don't think there is _much_ that Mildred could teach you.

KATE. (_grimaces behind her back_) Don't make me blush, my dear.

BEA. You make _me_ blush sometimes.

KATE. Then you ought to be extremely obliged to me, for nothing becomes you better. (_grimaces as before_) Mrs. Selwyn, we are now quite old friends. I cannot leave Ravenhurst without some little memento of our companionship--There are no horrid men about to hear us--Before I go, tell me (_dropping down near BEATRICE into an attitude of mock earnestness_) oh, tell me---- (_behind sofa R. of BEATRICE_)

BEA. Well?

KATE. The secret of your complexion.

BEA. (_smiling_) It's a very simple one--Arsenic.

KATE. (_rises_) Arsenic! But that's a poison.

BEA. Yes, if you take too much of it; but if you take a little, it----

KATE. It what!

BEA. Improves the complexion.

KATE. Does it? Where do you get it?

BEA. From the chemist's, of course.

KATE. But will they sell it you?

BEA. Yes, if you're candid and confide in them. My love, if you want to look better than Nature intended you----

KATE. As, of course, I do----

BEA. Confide in your chemist. Make some ridiculous excuse--say that the family cat is in convulsions--and they will sell you nothing. They know it's absurd. Say that you want to improve your complexion, and they will sell you anything; they know it's the truth.

KATE. My dear Mrs. Selwyn--for this information much thanks. (_moves towards door, R.U.E._)

BEA. Where are you going?

KATE. To the chemist's.

_Enter LORD NORMANTOWER, R.U.D._

NOR. May I come in? (_comes well on stage, R.C._)

KATE. (_up C._) It seems to me you've come. (_between NORMANTOWER and BEATRICE_)

NOR. Yes; when I want to do anything particularly, I do it first and ask permission afterwards. It prevents disappointment, and it's so very easy to apologise.

BEA. In this case no apology is needed.

NOR. (_starting_) Mrs. Selwyn! excuse me for not seeing you. (_crosses down to BEATRICE, standing R. of sofa. KATE turns up and resumes watering plants, R.C._) How is Philip to-day?

BEA. I'm sorry to say my husband is not at all well this morning.

NOR. Old Lund seems to be making him worse instead of better.

BEA. Sir Peter has now been here a week, and Philip has grown worse every day.

NOR. I'm sure _I_ oughtn't to find fault with Lund; he's polished off nearly all my relations for me; but I'm not certain that I quite believe in the old boy. There's too much M.D.F.S.A. about him. I never knew a fool who hadn't half the alphabet at the end of his name. (_turns away a few steps_)

KATE. (_demurely_) At _which_ end my Lord Edward, Arthur, Henry, Earl of Normantower? (_coming down to R. of NORMANTOWER, R.C., can in hand. BEATRICE rises and goes to fire L., taking book with her_)

NOR. Now, that's too bad of you, Miss Derwent. It's not my fault that I've enough names to christen the family of a curate.

KATE. Let this be a lesson to you. Don't throw stones at a friend of mine! (_goes up to opening R.C._)

NOR. Mine was a very little stone; yours was half a brick. (_KATE continues watering the plants_)

PHIL. (_off, L._) Beatrice!

BEA. My husband! I must leave Miss Derwent to console you. She won't have many more opportunities. (_goes up L._)

PHIL. Beatrice!

BEA. Yes, dear! I'm coming! (_exit L.D._)

NOR. Not many more opportunities? What does she mean? (_standing puzzled C.--turning his head to KATE_)

KATE. (_in conservatory_) Mrs. Selwyn means that I am leaving Ravenhurst.

NOR. You're going away! (_goes up to KATE_)

KATE. This afternoon. (R.) } } _of opening, R.C._) NOR. For good? (L.) }

KATE. For Mrs. Selwyn's good.

NOR. You don't mean to say she's given you notice.

KATE. (_comes down R.C., as far as piano_) Mrs. Selwyn is too amiable to give anybody notice; but when she wants to get rid of them, in the most charming manner in the world, she makes them so exceedingly uncomfortable that they give notice themselves.

NOR. (_comes down L. of her_) But she can't possibly want to get rid of _you?_

KATE. Why not?

NOR. We're all in love with _you._

KATE. Are you? Perhaps that's the reason. Do you like plants? (_turns suddenly, can in hand, so that the water is supposed to splash NORMANTOWER_)

NOR. Blow plants! (_drawing back_)

KATE. (_stopping_) _What_ plants? (_in opening R.C._)

NOR. (_goes to fire, L., wiping his coat_) Any plants--all plants--I hate 'em.

KATE. (_crosses in conservatory to L.C._) I love them. I have been watering my pets for the last time.

NOR. (L.) I see. You've been standing them a parting drink.

KATE. My lord! (_in opening L.C._)

NOR. By the way, isn't tobacco very good for plants? (_crossing up to C._)

KATE. Excellent. Why do you ask?

NOR. I was just thinking, while you are watering the plants in the conservatory, it might be doing them a service if I were to smoke a cigarette in the conservatory. (_producing case_)

KATE. (_puts can down, L.C., behind flat, and comes down to NORMANTOWER, C._) Not for the world! Lord Normantower, let me tell you a shocking fact. The very odour of tobacco has such an effect upon me, that if you were to light a cigarette----

NOR. (_putting case back_) It would make you uncomfortable?

KATE. No! I should want to join you.

NOR. No!

KATE. There! you're shocked. (_goes down to sofa_)

NOR. Not a bit of it. I like you, Miss Derwent, because you say what you mean.

KATE. Sometimes I say a great deal more than I mean. (_sits on sofa_)

NOR. And sometimes I mean a great deal more than I can say. Miss Derwent---- (_behind sofa, R. of KATE_)

KATE. (_sitting_) Lord Normantower?

NOR. What a strange thing it is that you have grown this old---- (_KATE looks at him_) I mean, this young, without being married.

KATE. I shall never marry.

NOR. That's exactly my case. I've had one disappointment, and I don't mean to have another. Once bit, twice shy, they say.

KATE. _You_ have been bitten?

NOR. (_goes to R.C._) Badly. But it's all for the best. It's made me distrustful of women and a confirmed bachelor. (_returns to back of sofa_) Why do people want to get married?

KATE. I've often wondered.

NOR. (_about to take her hand_) Miss Derwent, I've been so awfully glad I'm a confirmed bachelor, ever since I met _you._

KATE. (_removing her hand, which his hand follows_) What difference can that make?

NOR. Well, you see, if I wasn't a confirmed bachelor, I might have been married.

KATE. Well?

NOR. (_hand business repeated_) And if I was married, I couldn't marry again.

KATE. Of course not.

NOR. And if I couldn't marry again, I couldn't marry----

KATE. Go on. Finish your sentence.

NOR. (_seizing her hand_) You!

_Enter SIR PETER, through conservatory, suddenly, R.U.E. They take opposite sides of the stage; KATE, L.C., NORMANTOWER, R._

SIR P. Ah! I saw you! (_comes down C._)

KATE. Sir Peter, I believe you have eyes in the small of your back.

SIR P. Yes--and ears too. I heard you.

NOR. Then, why did you interrupt us?

SIR P. I thought it was time. You forget, that I am in the next room--that the rooms communicate through the terrace--and that you had not taken the precaution of shutting the outer door of the conservatory. (_KATE and NORMANTOWER look at one another_)

_Re-enter BEATRICE L.D., she goes down L. to KATE._

BEA. Ah, doctor! Philip was asking for you. He has just got up. What time's your train, Miss Derwent?

KATE. Half-past two. I must be getting ready. (_NORMANTOWER turns up and opens R.U.D., standing above it_)

SIR P. Then, it's decided, you are going?

KATE. Quite. But I shall see you again. (_crosses in front of SIR PETER up to R.U.D._)

BEA. (_comes to front of sofa_) The brougham is quite at your service. (_KATE bows and exit R.U.D. NORMANTOWER speaks through open door to her for a few moments_)

SIR P. (C.) So Miss Derwent is leaving you?

BEA. She wished to go. She has always been allowed to do as she pleased here, and she has availed herself of the privilege.

SIR P. (_looking at BEATRICE_) I see. (_enter PHILIP L.D._)

BEA. Ah, here is Philip! (_goes to him, affectionately_)

PHIL. Good morning, doctor. (_coming down with his arm round BEATRICE_) Morning, Normantower. (_goes to sofa and sits. BEATRICE goes to back of table L.C. and sits_)

NOR. Sorry to hear you're not so well this morning. (_comes down R. and sits at piano, facing PHILIP_)

PHIL. I ought to get better, if the best of doctors and the most devoted of nurses are of any use; but somehow I don't.

SIR P. You get worse. (_R. of sofa_)

PHIL. I shouldn't mind so much, if I didn't find my temper giving way--just now, I spoke quite crossly to poor little Mousey here (_takes her hand_)--and she was only carrying out your instructions. (_to SIR PETER_)

BEA. The fact is, doctor, he's a very naughty boy, and won't take his medicine, though I always give it him with my own hands. He hasn't taken any to-day.

SIR P. Oh, you won't take your medicine?

PHIL. It's such horrid stuff; and somehow, I always feel worse after taking it.

SIR P. So much the better. Shows it's doing you good.

NOR. (_smiling_) That's all my eye, doctor. (_BEATRICE rises and goes towards R.U.D._)

SIR P. No, sir, it's all his liver. Oblige me by not interrupting.

BEA. (_up R.C._) Come, Lord Normantower. (_NORMANTOWER rises, turns up and opens R.U.D. for BEATRICE, who crosses in front of him. PHILIP rises and goes to L._) Sir Peter would like to be alone with Philip. (_exit BEATRICE R.U.D._)

NOR. (_following--aside_) And I'd like to be alone with Miss Derwent. (_exit NORMANTOWER_)

PHIL. Now I am at your service. (_arranges easy chair and sits_)

SIR P. (_goes to R. of table, L.C._) Have you made your will?

PHIL. (_starts_) Well, you're a lively doctor!

SIR P. Have you made your will? (_with emphasis_)

PHIL. Am I so ill as that? (_aghast_)

SIR P. Yes, sir--you are.

PHIL. But if it's only my liver.

SIR P. It is _not_ your liver.

PHIL. Is it my heart? Is anything wrong there?

SIR P. Nothing of any consequence. It's rather too large, and rather too soft--that's all that's wrong with your heart.

PHIL. What is it then?

SIR P. (_sits on sofa_) I can account for your condition, only on one hypothesis, and that one is out of the question.

PHIL. Mayn't I know what it is?

SIR P. Since it's out of the question, it's no use discussing it. You haven't answered me. Have you made your will?

PHIL. Yes--long ago. It was a very simple matter. Mildred is provided for; so I have left everything to my wife, absolutely. (_SIR PETER rises and rings the bell, below fire, crossing in front_)

PHIL. Do you want anything?

SIR P. Yes. The name and address of your solicitor.

PHIL. Old Merivale, of High Street! why? (_enter JOHNSON, R.U.D., she comes on to R.C._)

SIR P. (_crosses to C._) Mr. Selwyn's compliments to Mr. Merivale, Solicitor, High Street, and will he kindly come here at once? (_exit JOHNSON R.U.D. SIR PETER returns to R. of table_)

PHIL. What for?

SIR P. To draw your will.

PHIL. But I tell you, I've made it.

SIR P. You must make another. (_sits, produces documents, and puts on pince-nez_)

PHIL. Sir Peter, you are incomprehensible!

SIR P. Let me make myself clear. Your father, Philip Selwyn, was married to your mother, Mildred Kent, in July, 1865. I need not show you the certificate.

PHIL. Of course not.

SIR P. Two years before, in March, 1863, one Philip Derwent was married to one Kate Graham.

PHIL. Derwent? Kate? Miss Derwent's father, I presume?

SIR P. Yes. There is the certificate.

PHIL. I don't want to see it.

SIR P. But I want you to see it. (_gives it to PHILIP_)

PHIL. (_glances at it and returns it_) How does it concern me?

SIR P. It concerns _her_, doesn't it?

PHIL. Of course.

SIR P. And she being your half-sister, it concerns _you_.

PHIL. Miss Derwent, my half-sister! What do you mean?

SIR P. That Philip Selwyn and Philip Derwent were one and the same person.

PHIL. Sir Peter!

SIR P. Of that I have no proof, except your father's word.

PHIL. My father's word?

SIR P. Given to me on his death-bed. Do you _doubt_ his word? Do you doubt mine?

PHIL. No--but I cannot grasp it! Am I awake, or am I dreaming? I have such strange dreams.

SIR P. You are awake--and for the first time in your life. Till to-day, you have been living in a dream.

PHIL. My father was a widower, when he married my mother? Why did he not say so? Why did he change his name?

SIR P. Because he was _not_ a widower.

PHIL. Not a widower!

SIR P. Because his first wife was alive----

PHIL. Alive! (_leaning well forward_)

SIR P. There is the certificate of her death--twenty years later.

(_PHILIP takes it, looks at it blankly, drops back into seat._)

PHIL. (_after a short pause_) Incredible!

SIR P. I haven't half done yet.

PHIL. Go on--go on. (_leaning forward again to table and placing certificate on it_)

SIR P. You inherited from your father everything you possess?

PHIL. Everything!

SIR P. He bequeathed to you, and your sister Mildred, all his fortune?

PHIL. All.

SIR P. Where did he get that fortune?

PHIL. Well?

SIR P. From his first wife.

PHIL. (_springing up_) It's false! it _must_ be false!

SIR P. (_rises_) I have his word for it, and it can be proved. He left her penniless; and left his child to struggle with the world as best they could--and nobly they did it. Yes, sir, it is too true. The father you have loved and honoured _was_----

PHIL. (_extending his arms, as if to stop SIR PETER_) My father! (_SIR PETER stands for a moment, nonplussed_)

SIR P. Was your father--just so. (_turns off. SIR PETER picks up certificate from table and goes to R.C. down stage, folding papers which he returns to his pocket, PHILIP leans on mantel-piece--aside, looking at PHILIP_) Takes it very well.

PHIL. (_goes to L.C., helping himself by table_) I want to ask you one question. Dare I? (_they stand looking at one another for an instant_)

SIR P. You mean, your mother.

PHIL. Yes.

SIR P. She knew nothing of this.

PHIL. Thank heaven for that--thank heaven! (_falls heavily into sofa, and sobs upon the table_)

_Re-enter BEATRICE, followed by KATE, in travelling dress, R.U.D. SIR PETER down R. PHILIP sits up._

BEA. (_up C._) Philip dear, Miss Derwent has come to say good-bye to you. She is going. (_crosses behind and goes down L. of table_)

PHIL. (_rising_) She is _not_ going. (_SIR PETER turns up to piano_)

KATE. (_crosses down to PHILIP_) The brougham is at the door, Mr. Selwyn, and I have left myself barely time to catch the train; but I could not go without shaking hands with you, and thanking you for all your kindness. I came here a stranger, and I have found almost a brother. (_offers her two hands_)

PHIL. (_taking and holding them_) Yes, you _have_ found a brother; and _I_ have found a sister.

KATE. Mr. Selwyn!

PHIL. Whom I have wronged without knowing it--of whose very existence I was unaware till this moment; but whom I know at last, and to whom I will make restitution.

BEA. Philip? (_advances a step; PHILIP turns to BEATRICE_)

KATE. (_turning to SIR PETER_) You have broken your promise!

SIR P. I made no promise. (_sits R. by piano, interested in scene_)

PHIL. Yes, Beatrice, this is my sister----

KATE. (_C., breaking out_) But you need not acknowledge me. I ask for nothing but to go away. Let the past be forgotten. Of what use is it to revive a sorrow that is dead, and to publish a sin that is unknown? (_to SIR PETER_) It cannot be right to make three beings unhappy, to do justice to one, when all that one asks is to go away.

PHIL. You know, then?

KATE. Everything!

PHIL. And you have said nothing!

KATE. (_to R. of sofa_) Because you have taught me to love you! (_PHILIP sinks on sofa_) I want you to be happy--I want to be happy myself--and if I wreck your happiness, I shall destroy my own. All I ask is to go--let me go! let me go! (_goes to SIR PETER who rises and checks her, and then sits again_)

PHIL. It is for me to go. This place belongs to you.

BEA. (L.C.) To her? (_front of table_)

PHIL. Yes, all I have is hers. (_turning to BEATRICE_) Beatrice, my father was not married to my mother legally--he was married before--Kate is his lawful child--the money he left me was her mother's--and to her it must be restored, to the last shilling.

SIR P. (_rises_) Nonsense! this is quixotic!

PHIL. (_peremptorily_) I know what my duty is, and it shall be done. (_to BEATRICE_) Am I not right?

BEA. (_humbly_) Yes, Philip.

PHIL. (_goes to KATE, C., takes her hand and puts arm round her; to KATE_) You have battled with the world long enough. Now it is _my_ turn. Till to-day I have been living in a fool's paradise, but now I have awaken from my dream. I am not afraid, because I am not alone. (_goes slowly to BEATRICE and takes her hand_) Many things have been taken from me. My fortune, my good name, my father's memory--all these are gone! but you are left to me. I have a wife to work for, whose love will sustain me; who will share my trials as she has shared my prosperity. (_goes towards KATE_) Don't fear for me. I will fight and I will conquer. (_dropping exhausted_) Ah, if I were only stronger! (_on sofa; BEATRICE goes to fire, L._)

SIR P. (_goes to KATE who is R. of sofa; to KATE who is about to speak_) You have said enough. Remember, your brother is an invalid. (_goes to R.C._)

PHIL. But I _won't_ be an invalid--I'll make my will to-day.

BEA. _Another_ will? (_at fire_)

PHIL. Leaving Kate everything.

KATE. (_to back of sofa, R. of PHILIP_) Philip! I _must_ speak, for our sister's sake. If you have no thought for yourself, have some for her.

PHIL. Mildred is provided for already. I cannot deal with _her_ money; but I can with my own.

KATE. It is not a question of money. Remember, if this secret is made known----

PHIL. Ah!

KATE. What will be said of her?

PHIL. That never crossed my thoughts.

KATE. (_goes down a few steps, C._) Think of it now. It is not too late.

PHIL. Oh! (_pressing his hands to his temples_) What am I to do?

KATE. (_to R. of sofa, below it and kneels_) Do what is best for everyone. Accept a favour from a sister who asks you--on her knees! Keep our secret! Remain here--the master of Ravenhurst. Philip! For Mildred's sake.

PHIL. (_opening his arms_) Kate! may God bless you!

KATE. Brother! (_falling into his arms. BEATRICE stands with her head bowed submissively_)

SIR P. (_comes to KATE who rises, he takes her away R.C. a few steps_) There, that's settled. Now, let my patient have a little rest.

PHIL. (_to KATE, who moves away_) You won't go far? You won't leave Ravenhurst?

SIR P. (_prompting KATE_) No.

KATE. No.

PHIL. You will stay here--under this roof?

SIR P. (_prompting_) Yes.

KATE. If I am welcome--for the present--yes.

PHIL. And for the future?

BEA. (_crosses to C._) Yes. Your sister will be always welcome here. (_takes KATE'S hand. KATE bows to her and exit R.I.D. BEATRICE turns to PHILIP caressingly_)

SIR P. (_following--aside_) Damn'd good actress, that woman! (_exit R._)

PHIL. How can I thank you, Beatrice? How can I tell you bow proud I am of you, and how I love you? (_holding both her hands, draws her down by his side_) Oh, my darling wife, how can I soften this blow which has fallen upon you? (_embracing her_)

BEA. Philip, don't think of _me._

PHIL. (_R. arm round her_) But I _must_ think of you, who never think of yourself. If I were to die? (_L. hand holding hers_)

BEA. Dearest, don't talk of death. (_withdraws hand_)

PHIL. (_takes his arm from her, and leans forward_) I am more ill than I seem--more ill than anybody knows. I can't help thinking of death, for every day it seems to draw nearer and nearer. I can feel it coming--slowly, mysteriously, weirdly--gathering about me--wrapping me round and round. (_almost to himself_)

BEA. (_rises_) Hush, Philip, hush! You are tired. (_goes away two steps to C._) Shall I leave you for a while?

PHIL. No, no! Don't go away. (_holding out his hands as she moves up to back of sofa, R. of him_) You are all I have left, mousey. I am not tired; but oh, I feel so drowsy! I seem to get worse every day.

BEA. And why, my dear? Because you won't take your medicine. Come. Let me bring it you now. (_goes towards L.D._)

PHIL. That beastly medicine! Perhaps I'd better take it; but I shall have no head to talk to old Merivale, when he comes.

BEA. You've sent for him? (_behind chair back of table_)

PHIL. I expect him every minute.

BEA. Then, there's no time to be lost. I'll bring it you at once. (_goes L._)

PHIL. I'm doing right, aren't I, mousey? (_R. end of sofa facing her_)

BEA. In what way? (_at door L._)

PHIL. In making this new will.

BEA. You always do right, Philip.

PHIL. I have your acquiescence?

BEA. Certainly.

PHIL. Then, I will lose no time. It shall be made to-day.

_Exit BEATRICE, L.D._

PHIL. (_knock at door, R._) Who is it?

_Enter TOM R.U.D., followed closely by MILDRED, arm in arm._

TOM. (_up R.C._) Only me, Mr. Selwyn.

MIL. (_up R.C._) Only _I,_ Tom.

TOM. Oh, bother grammar! (_releases her arm, they come down to C._)

PHIL. Well, children? How are _you_ to-day?

TOM. (_L. of MILDRED_) Oh, we're all right; but, I say, Mr. Selwyn, I wish everybody wouldn't call us "children." I don't like it.

MIL. And it's not true.

TOM. I'm turned sixteen.

MIL. And I'm fifteen next birthday!

PHIL. Well, then, my man and woman, what do you want?

TOM. You tell him, Mildred! } } (_half whispered_) MIL. No--_you_ tell him, Tom! }

TOM. Are you quite well enough to stand a shock?

PHIL. What, are you studying electricity? Or is it some toy?

TOM. Electricity! (_with contempt--turns up C., and down again_)

MIL. A toy!

TOM. Mr. Selwyn, you make it jolly hard for a fellow to say what he wants to say--just when he wants a leg up.

MIL. Tom! "A leg up?"

TOM. Oh, bother style! Let me say what I mean.

PHIL. And what do you mean, my lad? (_smiling_)

TOM. If you please--we want to get married. (_rather frightened, taking MILDRED'S hand, and retreating with her up to R.C., facing PHILIP_)

PHIL. (_suddenly serious_) Want to get married?

MIL. That's the shock!

TOM. (_aside to her_) Now for it. (_holding her tight_) Don't run away--_I_ won't!

PHIL. You are both too young to think about such things!

TOM. (_sturdily_) I'm sure we're not too young--(_down to C._)

MIL. To _think_ about such things.

PHIL. Well, to talk about them.

MIL. (_crosses TOM to PHILIP, back of sofa. Imploringly_) Philip!

TOM. Mildred, this is no place for you. (_hands her across to R.U.D._) Leave me alone with Mr. Selwyn.

MIL. (_aside to TOM_) Tom! You won't come to blows? (_at R.U.D._)

TOM. (_L. of her, aside to her_) I will control myself. I will not forget the respect that is due to the brother of my affianced wife.

MIL. That's right, Tom.

TOM. Wait for me--on the mat. (_exit MILDRED, R.U.D. TOM comes boldly down to C._) Now, Mr. Selwyn, we are alone. We can discuss this matter as men of the world.

PHIL. My dear Tom-- (_TOM draws himself up_) Mr. Verinder--Such a thing as marriage at your early age is, of course, preposterous; but I wish you distinctly to understand that the remotest idea of an engagement between you and Mildred is equally out of the question.

TOM. May I ask why, sir?

PHIL. You belong to a very proud family; and there are reasons which you would scarcely understand----

TOM. Mr. Selwyn!

PHIL. Which, at any rate, I can't enter into--that make it impossible you should ever marry my sister.

TOM. That is your ultimatum? (_a step towards PHILIP_)

PHIL. Yes. (_sighing_)

TOM. Good day, sir. (_walks to the door, R., with importance, suddenly breaks down--exit blubbering, R.U.D._)

PHIL. (_rises_) Poor Tom! He's only a boy, but he's a gentleman! (_goes to fire, L., and leans on mantle_)

_Re-enter BEATRICE, L.D., pouring medicine out of a medicine bottle into a medicine glass, in which she has already put the poison. She comes down C. to R. of table._

BEA. Here it is, Philip. (_hands glass to him_)

PHIL. Oh dear me, how tired I am of the horrid stuff! (_takes glass, and sits wearily L. of table_) Surely you have given me too much?

BEA. No--just the right measure. See! (_between table and sofa, holding up bottle_)

PHIL. How many doses are there left?

BEA. (_with bottle_) Only three more. (_puts bottle on R. of table, and goes round behind to back of PHILIP_) Now, drink it up without thinking about it; and if, like a good boy, you don't leave a drop, you shall have a kiss afterwards, to take the taste away.

PHIL. Well, I suppose I must. (_raises glass to his lips--about to drink, BEATRICE watches him eagerly_)

_Enter JOHNSON, R.U.D., quickly._

JOHN. (_up R.C._) Oh, if you please'm! (_pants_)

(_PHILIP puts glass down on L. side of table_)

BEA. (_annoyed_) What's the matter, Johnson? (_moves a little towards JOHNSON_)

JOHN. Miss Mildred---- (_out of breath_)

PHIL. What of Miss Mildred?

JOHN. She is in hysterics.

PHIL. Mildred ill! (_rises and goes quickly across R. Exeunt JOHNSON and PHILIP R.U.D._)

BEA. (_follows across to R.C. up stage_) Never mind Mildred! Philip dear! (_stamps her foot_) Only another second and---- (_moves down C. looking at glass_)

PHIL. (_off_) Beatrice!

_Re-enter TOM breathless, R._

TOM. Oh, Mrs. Selwyn, please do come to Mildred! She's in a fit, or something. (_R. of BEATRICE_)

BEA. Nonsense!

TOM. Do come, please! (_passes behind to L. of her_) The shock has been too much for her.

_Re-enter PHILIP quickly._

PHIL. Beatrice! Quick! (_TOM has her L. hand, PHILIP her right; they force her to the door between them; as BEATRICE exits she looks back at glass on table_)

BEA. In a moment! (_glancing at glass_)

TOM. Come along!

PHIL. Beatrice! do come! (_exeunt R. upper door. The door shuts with a bang. Music in orchestra_)

_SIR PETER appears in the conservatory, and enters from R._

SIR P. Nobody here. Perhaps he's lying down. (_taps at door, L._) Nobody there. They've gone downstairs. (_comes down to C. passing behind sofa_) He must be better, then. (_music stops, pause, lost in thought_) Peter, my boy, if anyone had told you, you could study a case as you have studied this, for a week, and not be able to make head or tail of it, you would have kicked--pulled his nose for him. (_goes to R. of table._) What _is_ the matter with this man? Of course it _might_ be--but that's out of the question. (_sits on sofa_) Ah, there's his medicine. What did he say? He always felt worse after taking it. I don't know why he should. Only a tonic, with a nasty flavour. People like nasty medicine. Think it does 'em good. (_rises, tastes it_) Well--_it is_ nasty. (_starts slightly as he tastes it on his tongue--lifts glass to light, examines it, then smells it, smells it again, tastes again cautiously by his finger, sets the glass down, and stands looking at it_) Nothing's out of the question! I ought to have known it. (_pours dose into the goblet, smells and tastes the bottle_) That's all right. (_music in orchestra. Pours out another dose into the glass, which he replaces exactly where he found it, recorks the bottle and exit slowly with goblet through conservatory, R., pausing in C. a moment to examine medicine._)

_Re-enter BEATRICE, R., quickly, sees the medicine, stops short and resumes her wonted manner; down C. Re-enter PHILIP, R.; music stops._

PHIL. She's better now; but I was rather alarmed. (_down to C._)

BEA. Poor child! (_goes to fire L._)

PHIL. She'll soon get over it. Only a girlish fancy. Where did I put that medicine? (_looking about_)

BEA. Here it is, dear. (_gives him the glass--advancing to him_)

PHIL. (_grimacing_) You can't think how I hate it.

BEA. Don't be so absurd. I declare, you're as great a baby as _she_ is. (_backs up stage, watching him_)

PHIL. One--two--three! (_drinks it off. BEATRICE gives a sigh of satisfaction_) Ugh! Give me some water. (_goes to piano and puts glass down_)

BEA. (_passes behind table down to L. of it_) Why, the tumbler is gone! Who can have taken it? (_looking about_)

PHIL. Johnson, I daresay. (_sits R. by piano_) All right; I'm better now. That's one dose less to take. (_Re-enter SIR PETER through conservatory, with the goblet empty_) Three more, I think you said.

BEA. (_holds up bottle_) But there are only _two!_ (_alarmed_) Someone's been here!

SIR P. Yes, _I_ have. (_comes down C. to R. of sofa_)

BEA. (_terrified_) _You!_

SIR P. Your husband complained of his medicine. I thought I'd test it; so I took a dose.

BEA. (_dismayed_) _You_ took it? (_puts bottle on table_)

SIR P. Yes. (_looking at her_)

PHIL. A doctor take a dose of his own medicine!

SIR P. Only to my room. (_advances to R. of table_) Allow me to return you the glass. (_gives goblet to BEATRICE_)

PHIL. And you have tested it?

SIR P. Yes.

BEA. (_prepared for the worst_) With what result?

SIR P. With none. As I expected, just what I prescribed. (_sits on sofa. BEATRICE, intensely relieved, turns aside to hide her emotion, as if to put goblet on mantel-piece, L._)

PHIL. And what did you prescribe, Sir Peter? What is this stuff you're giving me?

SIR P. A very common medicine. (_crossing his legs_)

PHIL. But what is it?

SIR P. (_With his eyes fixed on BEATRICE_) Arsenic. (_PHILIP'S face falls. BEATRICE turns quickly, dropping the goblet, which is shivered to fragments_)

Quick Act Drop.

_Time: Thirty minutes. Wait: Eleven minutes._