PART VII

IGNOTUM PRO MIRIFICO

_The Amber Boudoir at Wyvern immediately after_ Lady CANTIRE _and her daughter have entered_.

_Lady Cantire_ (_in reply to_ Lady CULVERIN). Tea? oh yes, my dear; anything _warm_! I'm positively perished--that tedious cold journey and the long drive afterwards! I always tell Rupert he would see me _far_ oftener at Wyvern if he would only get the company to bring the line round close to the park gates, but it has _no_ effect upon him! (_As_ TREDWELL _announces_ SPURRELL, _who enters in trepidation_.) Mr. James Spurrell! Who's Mr.----? Oh, to be sure; _that's_ the name of my interesting young poet--_Andromeda_, you know, my dear! Go and be pleasant to him, Albinia, he wants reassuring.

_Lady Culverin_ (_a trifle nervous_). How do you do, Mr.--ah--Spurrell? (_To herself._) I _said_ he ended in "ell"! (_Aloud._) So pleased to see you! We think so much of your _Andromeda_ here, you know. Quite delightful of you to find time to run down!

_Spurrell_ (_to himself_). Why, _she's_ chummy, too! Old Drummy pulls me through everything! (_Aloud._) Don't name it, my la--hum--Lady Culverin. No trouble at all; only too proud to get your summons!

_Lady Culverin_ (_to herself_). He doesn't seem very revolutionary! (_Aloud._) That's so sweet of you; when so many must be absolutely fighting to get you!

_Spurrell._ Oh, as for that, there _is_ rather a run on me just now, but I put everything else aside for _you_, of course!

_Lady Culverin_ (_to herself_). He's soon _reassured_. (_Aloud, with a touch of frost._) I am sure we must consider ourselves most fortunate. (_Turning to the Countess._) You _did_ say cream, Rohesia? Sugar, Maisie dearest?

_Spurrell_ (_to himself_). I'm all right up to now! I suppose I'd better say nothing about the horse till _they_ do. I feel rather out of it among these nobs, though. I'll try and chum on to little Lady Maisie again; she may have got over her temper by this time, and she's the only one I know. (_He approaches her._) Well, Lady Maisie, here I _am_, you see. I'd really no idea your aunt would be so friendly! I say, you know, you don't mind _speaking_ to a fellow, do you? I've no one else I can go to--and--and it's a bit strange at first, you know!

_Lady Maisie_ (_colouring with mingled apprehension, vexation, and pity_). If I can be of any help to you, Mr. Spurrell----!

_Spurrell._ Well, if you'd only tell me what I ought to _do_!

_Lady Maisie._ Surely that's very simple; do _nothing_; just take everything quietly as it comes, and you _can't_ make any mistakes.

_Spurrell_ (_anxiously_). And you don't think anybody'll see anything out of the way in my being here like this?

_Lady Maisie_ (_to herself_). I'm only too afraid they _will_! (_Aloud._) You really _must_ have a little self-confidence. Just remember that no one here could produce anything a millionth part as splendid as your _Andromeda_! It's _too_ distressing to see you so _appallingly_ humble! (_To herself._) There's Captain Thicknesse over there--he _might_ come and rescue me; but he doesn't seem to care to!

_Spurrell._ Well, you _do_ put some heart into me, Lady Maisie. I feel equal to the lot of 'em now!

_Pilliner_ (_to_ Miss SPELWANE). Is _that_ the poet? Why, but I say--he's a _fraud_! Where's his matted head? He's not a bit ragged, or rusty either. And why don't he dabble? Don't seem to know what to do with his hands quite, though, _does_ he?

_Miss Spelwane_ (_coldly_). He knows how to do some very exquisite poetry with _one_ of them, at all events. I've been reading it, and _I_ think it perfectly marvellous!

_Pilliner._ I see what it is, you're preparing to turn his matted head for him? I warn you you'll only waste your sweetness. That pretty little Lady Maisie's annexed _him_. Can't you content yourself with _one_ victim at a time?

_Miss Spelwane._ Don't be so utterly idiotic! (_To herself._) If Maisie imagines she's to be allowed to monopolise the only man in the room worth talking to!----

_Captain Thicknesse_ (_to himself, as he watches_ Lady MAISIE). She is lookin' prettier than ever! Forgotten me. Used to be friendly enough once, though, till her mother warned me off. Seems to have a good deal to say to that poet fellow; saw her colour up from here the moment he came near; he's _begun_ Petrarchin', hang him! I'd cross over and speak to her if I could catch her eye. Don't know, though; what's the use? She wouldn't thank me for interruptin'. She likes these clever chaps; don't signify to her if they _are_ bounders, I suppose. _I_'m not intellectual. Gad, I wish I'd gone back to Aldershot!

_Lady Cantire_ (_by the tea-table_). Why don't you make that woman of yours send you up decent cakes, my dear? These are cinders. I'm afraid you let her have too much of her own way. Now, tell me--who are your party? Vivien Spelwane! Never have that girl to meet me again, I can't _endure_ her; and that affected little ape of a Mr. Pilliner--h'm! Do I see Captain Thicknesse? Now, I don't object to _him_. Maisie and he used to be great friends.... Ah, how do you _do_, Captain Thicknesse? Quite pleasant finding you here; such ages since we saw anything of you! Why haven't you been near us all this time?... Oh, I may have been out once or twice when you called; but you might have tried again, _mightn't_ you? There, _I_ forgive you; you had better go and see if you can make your peace with Maisie!

_Captain Thicknesse_ (_to himself, as he obeys_). Doosid odd, Lady Cantire comin' round like this. Wish she'd thought of it before.

_Lady Cantire_ (_in a whisper_). He's always been such a favourite of mine. They tell me his uncle, poor dear Lord Dunderhead, is _so_ ill--felt the loss of his only son so terribly. Of course it will make a great difference--in many ways.

_Captain Thicknesse_ (_constrainedly to_ Lady MAISIE). How do you do? Afraid you've forgotten me.

_Lady Maisie._ Oh no, indeed! (_Hurriedly._) You--you don't know Mr. Spurrell, I think? (_Introducing them._) Captain Thicknesse.

_Captain Thicknesse._ How are you? Been hearin' a lot about you lately. _Andromeda_, don't you know; and that kind of thing.

_Spurrell._ It's wonderful what a hit she seems to have made--not that I'm _surprised_ at it, either; I always knew----

_Lady Maisie_ (_hastily_). Oh, Mr. Spurrell, you haven't had any tea! _Do_ go and get some before it's taken away.

[SPURRELL _goes_.

_Captain Thicknesse._ Been tryin' to get you to notice me ever since you came; but you were so awfully absorbed, you know!

_Lady Maisie._ Was I? So absorbed as all that! What with?

_Captain Thicknesse._ Well, it looked like it--with talkin' to your poetical friend.

_Lady Maisie_ (_flushing_). He is not _my_ friend in particular; I--I admire his poetry, of course.

_Captain Thicknesse_ (_to himself_). Can't even speak of him without a change of colour. Bad sign that! (_Aloud._) You always _were_ keen about poetry and literature and that in the old days, weren't you? Used to rag me for not readin' enough. But I do now. I was readin' a book only last week. I'll tell you the name if you give me a minute to think--book everybody's readin' just now--no end of a clever book.

[Miss SPELWANE _rushes across to_ Lady MAISIE.

_Miss Spelwane._ Maisie, dear, how are you? You look _so_ tired! That's the journey, I suppose. (_Whispering._) Do tell me--is that really the author of _Andromeda_ drinking tea close by? You're a _great_ friend of his, I know. Do be a dear, and introduce him to me! I declare the dogs have made friends with him already. Poets have such a wonderful attraction for animals, haven't they?

[Lady MAISIE _has to bring_ SPURRELL _up and introduce him_; Captain THICKNESSE _chooses to consider himself dismissed_.

_Miss Spelwane_ (_with shy adoration_). Oh, Mr. Spurrell, I feel as if I _must_ talk to you about _Andromeda_. I _did_ so admire it!

_Spurrell_ (_to himself_). Another of 'em! They seem uncommonly sweet on "bulls" in this house! (_Aloud._) Very glad to hear you say so, I'm sure. But I'm bound to say she's about as near perfection as anything _I_ ever--I dare say you went over her points----

_Miss Spelwane._ Indeed, I believe none of them were lost upon me; but my poor little praise must seem so worthless and ignorant!

_Spurrell_ (_indulgently_). Oh, I wouldn't say _that_. I find some ladies very knowing about these things. I'm having a picture done of her.

_Miss Spelwane._ Are you really? _How_ delightful! As a frontispiece?

_Spurrell._ Eh? Oh no--full length, and sideways--so as to show her legs, you know.

_Miss Spelwane._ Her legs? Oh, of _course_--with "her roseal toes cramped." I thought that such a _wonderful_ touch!

_Spurrell._ They're not more cramped than they ought to be; she never turned them _in_, you know!

_Miss Spelwane_ (_mystified_). I didn't suppose she did. And now tell me--if it's not an indiscreet question--when do you expect there'll be another edition?

_Spurrell_ (_to himself_). Another addition! _She's_ cadging for a pup now! (_Aloud._) Oh--er--really--couldn't say.

_Miss Spelwane._ I'm sure the first must be disposed of by this time. I shall look out for the next _so_ eagerly!

_Spurrell_ (_to himself_). Time I "off"ed it. (_Aloud._) Afraid I can't say anything definite--and, excuse me leaving you, but I think Lady Culverin is looking my way.

_Miss Spelwane._ Oh, by all _means_? (_To herself._) I might as well praise a pillar-post! And after spending quite half an hour reading him up, too! I wonder if Bertie Pilliner was right; but I shall have him all to myself at dinner.

_Lady Cantire._ And where is Rupert? too busy of _course_ to come and say a word! Well, some day he may understand what a sister is--when it's too late. Ah, here's our nice unassuming young poet coming up to talk to you. Don't _repel_ him, my dear!

_Spurrell_ (_to himself_). Better give her the chance of telling me what's wrong with the horse, I suppose. (_Aloud._) Er--nice old-fashioned sort of house this, Lady Culverin. (_To himself._) I'll work round to the stabling by degrees.

_Lady Culverin_ (_coldly_). I believe it dates from the Tudors--if that is what you mean.

_Lady Cantire._ My dear Albinia, I _quite_ understand him; "old-fashioned" is _exactly_ the epithet. And I was born and brought up here, so perhaps I should know.

[_A footman enters, and comes up to_ SPURRELL _mysteriously._

_Footman._ Will you let me have your keys, if you please, sir?

_Spurrell_ (_in some alarm_). My keys! (_Suspiciously._) Why, what do you want _them_ for?

_Lady Cantire_ (_in a whisper_). Isn't he _deliciously_ unsophisticated? Quite a child of nature! (_Aloud._) My dear Mr. Spurrell, he wants your keys to unlock your portmanteau and put out your things; you'll be able to dress for dinner all the quicker.

_Spurrell._ Do you mean--am I to have the honour of sitting down to table with all of _you_?

_Lady Culverin_ (_to herself_). Oh, my goodness, what _will_ Rupert say? (_Aloud._) Why, of course, Mr. Spurrell; how can you ask?

_Spurrell_ (_feebly_). I--I didn't know, that was all. (_To_ Footman.) Here you are, then. (_To himself._) Put out my things?--he'll find nothing to put out except a nightgown, sponge bag, and a couple of brushes! If I'd only known I should be let in for this, I'd have brought dress-clothes. But how _could_ I? I--I wonder if it would be any good telling 'em quietly how it is. I shouldn't like 'em to think I hadn't got any. (_He looks at_ Lady CANTIRE _and her sister-in-law, who are talking in an undertone_.) No, perhaps I'd better let it alone. I--I can allude to it in a joky sort of way when I come down!