Part 7

Mrs. Cloys is here.

THEOPHILA.

[_Her hand to her brow._] Mrs. Cloys—aunt——!

JOHN.

Mrs. Cloys, Sir Fletcher, and your brother were with me when your note arrived. They want to see you.

THEOPHILA.

See me—See me——

JOHN.

[_Gripping her wrist._] Pull yourself together, Mrs. Fraser——[_The knocking is again heard._ JOHN _goes to the door_.

THEOPHILA.

[_In a whisper._] Jack! [_He pauses; she seems dazed._] They—they haven’t heard—a word of—oh, of what I’ve said to you?

JOHN.

Heard——! N-no. Are you ready?

[_He pulls aside the_ portière, _unlocks the door, and opens it_. MRS. CLOYS _enters_; SIR FLETCHER _and_ CLAUDE _appear in the doorway_.

MRS. CLOYS.

You have tried my patience long enough, Mr. Allingham. [_She goes to_ THEOPHILA; JOHN _walks away, and stands with his back to those in the room._] Come! you have had ample time for your _business interview_. [_Staring at_ THEOPHILA.] What’s wrong with you?

THEOPHILA.

[_Sinking into a chair._] N-nothing.

MRS. CLOYS.

Where’s your cape—and your bonnet?

[THEOPHILA _looks round vacantly_.

SIR FLETCHER PORTWOOD.

Cape? cape? Here’s a cape.

[_He hands the cape to_ MRS. CLOYS; _she snatches it from him, and puts it round_ THEOPHILA’S _shoulders_. CLAUDE _picks up the bonnet, and brings it to_ MRS. CLOYS, _then goes to the upper door, and stands there waiting_.

MRS. CLOYS.

[_Raising_ THEOPHILA.] You are not well; you are ill. Fletcher——! [SIR FLETCHER _goes up to the steps leading to the library_.] Where are you going?

SIR FLETCHER PORTWOOD.

My hat——[_He pushes the_ portière _aside, then draws back_.] Mrs. Allingham——! [_Hesitatingly._] Er—I believe I have left my hat here, Mrs. Allingham. May I——? [_He enters the library._

THEOPHILA.

Mrs. Allingham! Mrs.—Allingham——!

MRS. CLOYS.

Yes, yes.

[SIR FLETCHER _comes out of the library, carrying his hat_.

THEOPHILA.

[_To_ MRS. CLOYS.] Mrs. Allingham! his ... wife!

MRS. CLOYS.

Mr. and Mrs. Allingham have arranged their differences. [_Looking from_ THEOPHILA _to_ JOHN.] Why, don’t you know?

SIR FLETCHER PORTWOOD.

[_Coming down the steps._] Haven’t you seen Mrs. Allingham?

THEOPHILA.

Seen her——?

SIR FLETCHER PORTWOOD.

This evening—here——?

THEOPHILA.

Here!

SIR FLETCHER PORTWOOD.

Your interview with Mr. Allingham has taken place in this room?

THEOPHILA.

In this room? Yes——

MRS. CLOYS.

Come——

SIR FLETCHER PORTWOOD.

Wait, Harriet, please! Allingham—Mr. Allingham—pardon me for putting such a question: surely you have not allowed—allowed—been a party to——?

MRS. CLOYS.

Allowed—what?

SIR FLETCHER PORTWOOD.

[_Looking towards the library._] Harriet, you can hear most distinctly, in the library——

MRS. CLOYS.

Hear——!

SIR FLETCHER PORTWOOD.

Overhear—certainly, overhear——

MRS. CLOYS.

No, no! [_Going to_ JOHN.] Preposterous! [_After a pause._] Mr. Allingham, why should Mrs. Allingham—be there? [JOHN _is silent_.] What has passed between you and——? Your wife has not been—listening?

JOHN.

[_Desperately._] Mrs. Fraser—has said—nothing to me that a—a just woman can bring up against her——

MRS. CLOYS.

_Listening!_

JOHN.

[_Almost inaudibly._] Yes. [_Passionately._] But you don’t know——! [_Calling in a loud voice.]_ Olive! Olive——!

[OLIVE _comes out of the library and stands at the top of the steps_. THEOPHILA _regards her for a moment blankly, then goes to the balustrade, and stares up at her. After a brief pause_ THEOPHILA _joins_ MRS. CLOYS, _but seeing_ JOHN, _she comes unsteadily towards him and looks him in the face. Then as she turns away to_ MRS. CLOYS, _she utters a groan, and tumbles to the floor at_ JOHN’S _feet_.

END OF THE SECOND ACT.

THE THIRD ACT

_The Scene is the same as in the previous Act, but a few articles of furniture are differently disposed about the room. There is no fire; and flowers decorate the fireplace. The windows are open and the light is that of a fine afternoon in summer._

FRASER _is seated upon the settee_. JOHN ALLINGHAM _appears in the garden, looks into the room, glares fiercely at_ FRASER, _coughs significantly, and walks away. When_ JOHN _has gone_, FRASER, _glancing at the window, rises, and, with an angry exclamation, crosses the room_. MRS. CLOYS _and_ JUSTINA _enter_; MRS. CLOYS _is dressed as in the previous Acts, but without her bonnet and mantle_; JUSTINA _is in a bright morning-dress_.

MRS. CLOYS.

[_To_ FRASER.] She insists upon rising; she will see you in a few minutes.

FRASER.

Thank you.

MRS. CLOYS.

She is excessively weak and shattered; you must remember that.

FRASER.

Yes, yes. I can never adequately express my gratitude——

MRS. CLOYS.

[_Sitting upon the settee._] Tsch!

JUSTINA.

Aunt has been up with her the whole night.

MRS. CLOYS.

Not alone. Mrs. Allingham——

FRASER.

Mrs. Allingham——?

MRS. CLOYS.

Mrs. Allingham begged to be allowed to keep me company. There was a little scene between us—but the woman is, to some extent, human, I find.

FRASER.

Oh, I’ve no doubt that Mrs. Allingham is ashamed of herself——

MRS. CLOYS.

I hope we are all ashamed of ourselves. In the end I was far from sorry to have her companionship. Your poor wife didn’t come out of her swoon till nearly one o’clock this morning. Then Dr. Erskine went home and Mrs. Allingham and I took our places by the bedside—[_to_ JUSTINA]—till you arrived at breakfast-time, Justina.

JUSTINA.

[_To_ FRASER.] And I brought old Sarah, who used to maid us girls when Theo was at home; she’s dressing her now.

FRASER.

Mrs. Cloys, pray help me with your advice.

MRS. CLOYS.

[_Bridling._] Oh—h—h——!

FRASER.

No, no—about Mr. Allingham. Ha! of course if we were Frenchmen we should fight a duel——

JUSTINA.

Certainly, my dear Alec, and he would kill you.

FRASER.

Perhaps; that doesn’t follow.

JUSTINA.

It doesn’t follow, because it can’t follow. But he _would_ kill you and everybody would say of you, “Serve him right; another unsatisfactory husband disposed of!” And you would be buried, and my sister would be free and would go to Trouville in August in her weeds, and we should all have a splendid time generally.

FRASER.

[_Dryly._] If we were French.

JUSTINA.

Yes. [_Going to the window._] Why aren’t we French!

MRS. CLOYS.

Justina——!

FRASER.

[_Advancing to_ MRS. CLOYS, _hesitatingly, uncomfortably—lowering his voice_.] I can’t deny that I have behaved in a very poor fashion to Theophila——

JUSTINA.

[_Looking into the garden._] Deny it! no!

FRASER.

[_Turning to_ JUSTINA.] Please——! [_To_ MRS. CLOYS.] But you, Mrs. Cloys, have just admitted to me that, up till last night, your feelings towards her were at least as unjust as my own.

MRS. CLOYS.

Ah, I hope your contrition, now that the facts are known to us, is as sincere and as deep as mine, Mr. Fraser.

JUSTINA.

Oh, how miserable he looks!

MRS. CLOYS.

Who?

JUSTINA.

Jack Allingham. [_She goes out, and disappears._

FRASER.

[_Walking about angrily._] There he is again!

MRS. CLOYS.

He has every right to be here.

FRASER.

It’s in curious taste.

MRS. CLOYS.

I don’t see that. He feels called upon to remain here to protect his wife. He might say, with equal reason——

FRASER.

Hardly. He can take _his_ wife away, and protect her elsewhere. But I am helpless. You tell me it is a question whether Theophila ought to be moved to-day or not——

MRS. CLOYS.

[_Referring to her watch._] Dr. Erskine will decide very shortly.

FRASER.

So, for how long, in heaven’s name, am I to endure Mr. Allingham? The fellow puts himself in my way. If I walk in the garden, he appears, indoors, at a window, and coughs in a menacing fashion. When I enter the house the proceedings are but slightly varied—I am inside; Allingham and his cough outside.

MRS. CLOYS.

I find him a simple-minded, boyish young man.

FRASER.

[_Looking through the balustrade into the library._] Do you?

MRS. CLOYS.

After all, the conspiracy he assisted at—for which I can never forgive him—was carried out, on his part, in perfect good faith to Theophila.

FRASER.

His share in it is singularly discreditable.

MRS. CLOYS.

[_Rising._] You and I must remember that it is through this discreditable act that we are able to do justice to your wife. [JUSTINA _re-enters, at the window_.] Is Mr. Allingham there?

JUSTINA.

Yes, aunt.

MRS. CLOYS.

[_To_ FRASER.] I assume you are anxious to avoid any open quarrel with Mr. Allingham?

FRASER.

I simply wish to get my sick wife away as speedily and as peacefully as possible, and then to forget this gentleman—and his cough. [MRS. CLOYS _goes out at the window and disappears_.] Justina; surely you—_you_—resent this new attitude of Mrs. Allingham’s? For months and months she is your sister’s bitter, determined enemy; then suddenly she is allowed to sit up all night, nursing her!

JUSTINA.

You wouldn’t grudge the woman her little bit of practical repentance? If ever I go in for repentance, let nobody try to do me out of it!

FRASER.

[_Impatiently._] Repentance——!

JUSTINA.

[_Sitting on the arm of a chair._] Oh, Olive Allingham didn’t have too gay a time of it last night, take my word for it. When Theo came-to, aunt tells me, her poor, overwrought brain wandered for an hour or so; that wasn’t over-pleasant for Mrs. A. Theo went through the whole business from beginning to end, breaking off occasionally to say her prayers—praying that the case might end in her favour, and that the season’s invitations would flow in as usual. Sometimes she’d stop in the middle of it, and call out that she couldn’t pray well while that creature was in the next room listening. Luckily, she fell into a heavy sleep, at about half-past two, and didn’t wake till just as I turned up in response to aunt’s telegram. But what a bad hour or two it must have been for Mrs. A.! Picture it! The half-darkened room; my little sister tossing about the bed, raving; aunt sitting grimly on one side, with a handkerchief round her head; and on the other side, hidden behind the bed-curtains, hardly daring to breathe, that woman, with her white face and her eyes almost out of their sockets!

SIR FLETCHER _enters, carrying some slips of paper covered with writing_.

SIR FLETCHER PORTWOOD.

Allingham has had really a most admirable cold luncheon laid in the dining-room. [_To_ FRASER.] You haven’t seen the dining-room?

FRASER.

[_Shortly._] No.

SIR FLETCHER PORTWOOD.

Really a capital lunch. Evidently it is intended that one should wander in and eat a wing of a chicken when one feels inclined.

JUSTINA.

_You_ have been wandering, uncle, apparently.

SIR FLETCHER PORTWOOD.

A glass of sherry, merely. No—it is strange and unreasonable that it should be so, but it _is_ so.

JUSTINA.

What is so?

SIR FLETCHER PORTWOOD.

Why, one has rather a feeling of constraint in sitting down to Allingham’s table—at any rate until matters are in a more settled state. [_To_ FRASER.] _You_ wouldn’t care to—to make the plunge?

FRASER.

Plunge——?

SIR FLETCHER PORTWOOD.

To break the ice?

FRASER.

Eat his lunch!

SIR FLETCHER PORTWOOD.

[_Sitting on the settee and arranging his papers._] No, no; I can quite understand——

JUSTINA.

[_Throwing her head back._] Ha!

FRASER.

[_To her, angrily._] I believe you would grin by the side of a grave.

JUSTINA.

[_Shrugging her shoulders._] _Cela dépend._

FRASER.

[_Turning away in disgust._] Ah!

JUSTINA.

[_Jumping up._] Oh, I’ve had my bad days lately—plenty of ’em! This morning the atmosphere’s a bit clearer. [_Gaily._] Tra, la, la!

FRASER.

The woman who can laugh under such circumstances——

JUSTINA.

[_Turning upon him._] Laugh! My dear Alec, if you had learnt to laugh when you acquired your other accomplishments, you would have been able perhaps to keep my sister out of the Divorce Court.

[_She goes out._

SIR FLETCHER PORTWOOD.

[_Fussing with his papers._] Fraser——[FRASER _comes to him_.] When I got to my hotel here last night I jotted down the—the—the leading points—the leading features——

FRASER.

Leading features——?

SIR FLETCHER PORTWOOD.

Of this awkward affair between you and the Allinghams——

FRASER.

[_Impatiently._] There is now no question between me and the Allinghams——

SIR FLETCHER PORTWOOD.

[_Rising._] My dear Locheen! A lady deliberately stations herself in that room, with the cognizance and approval of her husband, to listen to——

FRASER.

I wish to forget all that occurred last night. It is done with.

SIR FLETCHER PORTWOOD.

Pardon me; it cannot be done with: it ought not to be done with, without the most complete apology—I will not, for reasons you will presently appreciate, hint from which side. [_Going to_ FRASER, _button-holing him_.] Do you know what has suggested itself to me, Fraser?

FRASER.

[_Releasing himself._] No.

SIR FLETCHER PORTWOOD.

Why, sir, if ever there was a matter for reference, for arbitration, this is one!

FRASER.

[_Between his teeth._] Arbitration——?

SIR FLETCHER PORTWOOD.

Good heavens, when I open my _Times_ in the morning, and glance at the law reports, how often have I occasion to remark, “_That_ scandal might have been averted, and _that_, and _that_——” if only the intervention of some cool, level-headed person had been secured, the intervention of some one possessing the rarest of all gifts—the judicial faculty!

FRASER.

The gift is rare enough upon the bench. People shrink from having their concerns adjudicated by a meddlesome amateur.

SIR FLETCHER PORTWOOD.

I sent Claude to town for his mother at ten o’clock this morning. When _they_ arrive, the family will be complete—with the exception Of my brother, Thomas Osborne Portwood, who is in Australia; a deplorable case. [_Looking about him._] Arbitration dispenses with legal paraphernalia. A table, writing materials, a few chairs arranged—[_his eye falling upon a table_]—a table. [_He moves the table and stands, disposing, by gesture, of an imaginary audience._] Seated here, I should command the room. [_Pushing the settee a little further towards the left._] This thing must be differently placed. Chairs there—and there—— [_To_ FRASER.] Locheen, would this be the better room, I wonder, or the library?

FRASER.

[_Who has lapsed into thought, rousing himself._] Eh, for what?

SIR FLETCHER PORTWOOD.

For the arbitration? [FRASER _impatiently starts to his feet as_ MRS. CLOYS _enters at the window with_ JOHN.] Oh, Mr. Allingham, if you will give me just a moment or two——

MRS. CLOYS.

[_Taking_ SIR FLETCHER’S _arm and drawing him aside_.] Not now, Fletcher.

SIR FLETCHER PORTWOOD.

[_Annoyed._] Harriet——!

[SIR FLETCHER _and_ MRS. CLOYS _stand outside the window, talking_. JOHN _comes and faces_ FRASER.

JOHN.

[_With an effort._] I am sorry to hear, Mr. Fraser, that you have been annoyed, while a visitor at my house, by the persistency of my cough.

FRASER.

If I could have assured myself, Mr. Allingham, that your cough was a genuine one, it would not, however violent and grave its attacks, have occasioned me the smallest concern.

JOHN.

I admit the cough was not genuine. I employed it as a sign that I was at hand should you wish to have an explanation with me.

FRASER.

The invitation might have been more explicitly phrased.

JOHN.

It was clear enough for most men. At any rate, I hope the invitation is sufficiently plain now.

FRASER.

Quite.

JOHN.

You decline it, or accept it?

FRASER.

If I hesitate, it is because I hardly know in what language you would choose for me to reply.

JOHN.

Language——?

FRASER.

Words—or a cough?

JOHN.

Oh, whichever you find most procrastinating and evasive.

FRASER.

[_Coolly._] I decline your invitation, Mr. Allingham; I have nothing to say to you.

JOHN.

[_With clenched hands._] Nothing!

FRASER.

Nothing.

JOHN.

[_Glances at_ MRS. CLOYS, _then advances closely to_ FRASER _and speaks to him, in a low voice, beside himself with anger, but betraying nothing by gesture_.] Fraser, _you_ are actually responsible for the occurrences of last night. You have never understood your unfortunate wife; but yesterday your behaviour to her was cruel, brutal. I charge you with acting towards her like a brute.

FRASER.

[_Looking at him immovably._] Well?

JOHN.

Well——!

FRASER.

I repeat, I have nothing to say to you, Mr. Allingham.

[_After a pause_, JOHN _retreats from_ FRASER _and sits upon the settee, leaning his head upon his hands and uttering a groan_.

JOHN.

Fraser, I promised Mrs. Cloys, out in the garden, just now that I would make an attempt to soften matters between us, and—and—offer you some civility—and so on. I began fairly well—[FRASER _bows_]—and then the conversation took another line. However—[_rising, speaking with an effort, not looking at_ FRASER]—let me say that my house is quite at Mrs. Fraser’s disposal—[_with a gulp_]—and at yours, for as long as she honours me—as you both honour me—by remaining here. [FRASER _again bows_, JOHN _glares at him_.] As for ourselves, whenever we encounter each other I will be careful to look in an opposite direction. Perhaps you will be good enough to follow the same course.

FRASER.

It is one that would have suggested itself to me.

JUSTINA _enters_.

JUSTINA.

Alec, Theo is coming in to see you.

[JOHN _goes out quickly_; JUSTINA _speaks to_ MRS. CLOYS.

MRS. CLOYS.

[_Entering the room and addressing_ FRASER.] Theo is ready.

[MRS. CLOYS _goes out as_ SIR FLETCHER _enters the room_.

JUSTINA.

[_To him, significantly._] _Now_, perhaps a little lunch, uncle Fletcher——

[_She goes out by the dining-room door._

SIR FLETCHER PORTWOOD.

[_To_ FRASER.] Of course, my sister Harriet throws cold water upon my proposal——

FRASER.

Proposal——?

SIR FLETCHER PORTWOOD.

Arbitration. [FRASER _walks away and eyes the upper door anxiously and expectantly_.] But when did Harriet fail to throw cold water? I shall sound Allingham and get his views. After all, Harriet is not essential; Harriet is not——

[_While speaking he goes to the table, takes up the inkstand and blotting-book and carries them to the other table._

FRASER.

[_To_ SIR FLETCHER.] Sir Fletcher, Theophila understands that she is to see me here alone——

SIR FLETCHER PORTWOOD.

[_Abstractedly._] I am off; I am off. [_Stopping at the door, looking at the table, and slowly tapping his forehead._] Pens—paper; two p.’s.

[_He goes out._ FRASER _comes to the dining-room door, and carefully draws the_ portière; _then he walks away as_ MRS. CLOYS _enters by the upper door with_ THEOPHILA _leaning upon her arm_. THEOPHILA _is dressed as in the preceding Acts, but without bonnet or cape_. MRS. CLOYS _places_ THEOPHILA _upon the settee, then goes out at the window, and disappears_. FRASER _takes a chair and sits_.

FRASER.

You—you are very ill, Theophila?

THEOPHILA.

[_In a low, level, weary voice, her eyes turned from him._] No; I have just escaped being ill, they say.

FRASER.

I have been out all night, taking steps to find you; your aunt’s telegram did not reach me till late this morning. I hurried here directly.

THEOPHILA.

[_Indifferently, her thoughts elsewhere._] Oh?

FRASER.

I hope they told you so.

THEOPHILA.

Yes—I think they did. [_Rousing herself slightly._] When did you receive the news that I’d—I’d——?

FRASER.

That you had——?

THEOPHILA.

Run away?

FRASER.

Justina came to Lennox Gardens last night at about half-past six.

THEOPHILA.

It hadn’t struck you as at all likely——?

FRASER.

No.

THEOPHILA.

Men _don’t_ think on some points, I suppose. They hit; they never expect to see a bruise.

FRASER.

The two days we passed in Court, Theophila, set me quite beside myself. I am here to express my deep, my unfeigned regret for my treatment of you. I—I humbly beg your pardon.

THEOPHILA.

[_Looking at him for the first time, in an expressionless way._] You know what happened last night?

FRASER.

[_With assumed indifference._] Mrs. Cloys—told me—[_with a wave of the hand_]—oh, yes.

THEOPHILA.

I asked her to tell you all. She has told you _all_?

FRASER.

[_Nodding agitatedly._] For God’s sake, let us never again refer to the subject. Forget my share of yesterday and I will forget yours. [_Moving his chair to the head of the settee, to be nearer to her._] Theophila, everything you planned that we should do to reinstate you shall be done; I am prepared to go in with your schemes, heart and soul; all your suggestions shall be acted upon promptly.

THEOPHILA.

[_Moving away from him; then, after a brief pause._] No, thank you, Alec.

FRASER.

[_Staring at her._] No——?

THEOPHILA.

I’d rather not, now.

FRASER.

Why not?

THEOPHILA.

Things are different.

FRASER.

In what way?

THEOPHILA.

_I_ feel very different. When I asked you yesterday afternoon to lend me a helping hand I was asking for my right. It’s true we haven’t got on well together; you’ve been in one place, I in another, for more than half our married life. It’s true I’ve been miserable and lonely, and have told my tale often enough to him—Mr. Allingham——

FRASER.

[_Between his teeth._] Yes, yes.

THEOPHILA.

But, throughout everything, I’ve never been disloyal to you; I’ve always been fair to you when speaking of you behind your back; though I’ve hated you sometimes, I wouldn’t have let a living soul say a word against you in my presence. This is truth, Oh, I know I’ve been vilely brought up! ’Tina and I are vulgar and slangy, and generally bad form; and we were once what’s called “fast,” I suppose. But our fastness didn’t amount to much; it was only flirting, and giggling, and dodging mother, and getting lost in conservatories and gardens. Oh, what fools girls are! No, till yesterday I’ve been only silly—silly—nothing but silly—till last night——! till last night——!

FRASER.

[_Rising and pacing the room._] You were no more yourself last night than I was _myself_ yesterday afternoon!

THEOPHILA.

[_Sitting upright._] Who says I was not myself? It _was_ myself, the dregs of myself, that came to the top last night!

FRASER.

The—the—circumstances—under which you—you behaved as you did——

THEOPHILA.

[_Hiding her face in the pillows._] Oh, don’t remind me of it!

FRASER.

I mean, you were weak—ill——

THEOPHILA.

You mean nothing of the sort ... oh-h-h-h, how horrid I must have looked...!

FRASER.

They were mere words you were speaking——

THEOPHILA.

It was _me_—_me_!

FRASER.

Surely, if I see no reason why you should not claim my help——?

THEOPHILA.

I see a reason—that’s enough. I repeat, what I asked of you yesterday was my right, my right. But to-day—to-day it would be accepting a favour from you——

FRASER.

Favour!

THEOPHILA.

Favour. A poor, tawdry little thing I’ve always been; but I’ve been proud—yes, very proud—like every woman who is square and honest. But now——! No, if I could pull myself up again, I’d do it, for mother’s sake and ’Tina’s; but never, never, never, after last night, could I accept a favour from my husband!

FRASER.

I hear from your aunt that Mrs. Allingham—this man Allingham’s wife!—generously offers to take you under her wing. Is it so?

THEOPHILA.

[_Leaning back, her eyes closed._] Aunt brought me a message to that effect from Mrs. Allingham this morning.

FRASER.

What answer did you send?

THEOPHILA.

None; I am going to see Mrs. Allingham.

FRASER.

I think I understand.

THEOPHILA.

Understand?

FRASER.

This lady’s proposal is, after all, one worth considering. It would be a double triumph for you to ride back into the shabby little circle you regard as “society” in her coach. It would be a triumph over _me_ in the first place—over _me_!

THEOPHILA.

[_Opening her eyes and speaking calmly in a subdued voice._] Alec [_glancing over her shoulder_], is aunt out there? [_He goes to the window and looks out._