Chapter 5

GERTRUDE. Yes; that would give the people ample time to tidy and clear up after us.

ST. OLPHERTS. After you--?

GERTRUDE. After our departure. My brother and I leave early tomorrow morning.

ST. OLPHERTS. [After a brief pause, imperturbably.] A thousand thanks. May I impose myself so far upon you as to ask you to tell your landlord to expect me? [Taking up his hat and stick.] We are allowing this soup to get cold. [Joining LUCAS.] Dear Lucas, you have something to say to me--?

LUCAS. [Opening the door.] Come into my room. [They go out. The two women look at each other significantly.]

AGNES. You're a splendid woman.

GERTRUDE. That's rather a bad man, I think. Now, dear--[She places AGNES on the settee, and sets the soup, &c., before her. AGNES eats.]

GERTRUDE. [Watching her closely.] So you have succeeded in coming to close quarters, as you expressed it, with him.

AGNES. [Taciturnly.] Yes.

GERTRUDE. His second visit here today, I gather.

AGNES. Yes.

GERTRUDE. His attitude towards you--his presence here under any circumstances--it's all rather queer.

AGNES. His code of behaviour is peculiarly his own.

GERTRUDE. However, you are easier in your mind?

AGNES. [Quietly, but with intensity.] I shall defeat him. I shall defeat him.

GERTRUDE. Defeat him? You will succeed in holding Mr. Cleeve, you mean?

AGNES. Oh, if you put it in that way--

GERTRUDE. Oh, come, I remember all you told me this afternoon. [With disdain.] So it has already arrived, then, at a simple struggle to hold Mr. Cleeve?

[There is a pause. AGNES, without answering, stretches out her hand to the wine. Her hand shakes--she withdraws it helplessly.]

GERTRUDE. What do you want--wine?

[AGNES nods. GERTRUDE pours out wine and gives her the glass. AGNES drains it eagerly and replaces it.]

GERTRUDE. Agnes--

AGNES. Yes?

GERTRUDE. You are dressed very beautifully.

AGNES. Do you think so?

GERTRUDE. Don't you know it? Who made you that gown?

AGNES. Bardini.

GERTRUDE. I shouldn't have credited the little woman with such excellent ideas.

AGNES. Oh, Lucas gave her the idea when he--when he--

GERTRUDE. When he ordered it?

AGNES. Yes.

GERTRUDE. Oh, the whole thing came as a surprise to you?

AGNES. Er--quite.

GERTRUDE. I noticed the box this afternoon when I called.

AGNES. Mr. Cleeve wishes me to appear more like--more like--

GERTRUDE. An ordinary smart woman. [Contemptuously.] Well, you ought to find no difficulty in managing that. You can make yourself very charming, it appears.

[AGNES again reaches out a hand towards the wine. GERTRUDE pours a very little wine into the wine-glass and takes up the glass; AGNES holds out her hand to receive it.]

GERTRUDE. Do you mind my drinking from your glass?

AGNES. [Staring at her.] No.

[GERTRUDE empties the glass and then places it, in a marked way, on the side of the table farthest from AGNES.]

GERTRUDE. [With a little shudder.] Ugh! Ugh! [AGNES moves away from GERTRUDE, to the end of the settee, her head bowed, her hands clenched.] I have something to propose. Come home with me tomorrow.

AGNES. [After a pause, raising her head.] Home--?

GERTRUDE. Ketherick. The very spot for a woman who wants to shut out things. Miles and miles of wild moorland! For company, purple heath and moss-covered granite, in summer; in winter, the moor-fowl and the snow glistening on top of the crags. Oh, and for open-air music, our little church owns the sweetest little peal of bells--! [AGNES rises, disturbed.] Ah, I can't promise you their silence! Indeed, I'm very much afraid that on a still Sunday you can even hear the sound of the organ quite a long distance off. I am the organist when I'm at home. That's Ketherick. Will you come? [The distant tinkling of mandolin and guitar is again heard.]

AGNES. Listen to that. The mandolinisti! You talk of the sound of your church organ, and I hear his music.

GERTRUDE. His music?

AGNES. The music he is fond of; the music that gives him the thoughts that please him, soothe him.

GERTRUDE. [Listening--humming the words of the air, contemptuously: "Bell'amore deh! Porgi l'orecchio, ad un canto che parte del cuore . . ."] Love-music!

AGNES. [In a low voice, staring upon the ground.] Yes, love music.

[The door leading from LUCAS'S room opens, and ST. OLPHERTS and LUCAS are heard talking. GERTRUDE hastily goes out. KUCAS enters; the boyishness of manner has left him--he is pale and excited.]

AGNES. What is the matter?

LUCAS. My wife is revealing quite a novel phase of character.

AGNES. Your wife--?

LUCAS. The submissive mood. It's right that you should be told, Agnes. She is here, at the Danieli, with my brother Sandford. [ST. OLPHERTS enters slowly.] Yes, positively! It appears that she has lent herself to a scheme of Sandford's--[glancing at ST. OLPHERTS]--and of--and--

ST. OLPHERTS. Of Sandford's.

LUCAS. [To AGNES.] A plan of reconciliation. [To ST. OLPHERTS.] Tell Sybil that the submissive mood comes too late, by a year or so! [He paces to and fro. AGNES sits, with an expressionless face.]

AGNES.[Quietly, to ST. OLPHERTS.] The "friends" you were expecting, Duke?

ST. OLPHERTS. [Meekly.] Yes. [She smiles at him scornfully.]

LUCAS. Agnes dear, you and I leave here early tomorrow.

AGNES. Very well, Lucas.

LUCAS. [To ST. OLPHERTS.] Duke, will you be the bearer of a note from me to Sandford?

ST. OLPHERTS. Certainly.

LUCAS. [Going to the door of his room.] I'll write it at once.

ST. OLPHERTS. [Raising his voice.] You won't see Sandford, then, dear Lucas, for a moment or two?

LUCAS. No, no; pray excuse me. [He goes out. ST. OLPHERTS advances to AGNES. The sound of the music dies away.]

ST. OLPHERTS. [Slipping his coat off and throwing it upon the head of the settee.] Upon my soul, I think you've routed us!

AGNES. Yes.

ST. OLPHERTS. [Sitting, breaking into a laugh.] Ha, ha! he, he, he! Sir Sandford and Mrs. Cleeve will be so angry. Such a devil of a journey for nothing! Ho! [Coughing.] Ho, ho, ho!

AGNES. This was to be your grand coup.

ST. OLPHERTS. I admit it--I have been keeping this in reserve.

AGNES. I see. A further term of cat-and-dog life for Lucas and this lady--but it would have served to dispose of me, you fondly imagined. I see.

ST. OLPHERTS. I knew your hold on him was weakening. [She looks at him.] You knew it too. [She looks away.] He was beginning to find out that a dowdy demagogue is not the cheeriest person to live with. I repeat, you're a dooced clever woman, my dear. [She rises, with an impatient shake of her body, and walks past him, he following her with his eyes.] And a handsome one, into the bargain.

AGNES. Tsch!

ST. OLPHERTS. Tell me, when did you make up your mind to transform yourself?

AGNES. Suddenly, after our interview this afternoon; after what you said--

ST. OLPHERTS. Oh--!

AGNES. [With a little shiver.] An impulse.

ST. OLPHERTS. Impulse doesn't account for the possession of those gorgeous trappings.

AGNES. These rags? A surprise gift from Lucas, today.

ST. OLPHERTS. Really, my dear, I believe I've helped to bring about my own defeat. [Laughing softly.] Ho, ho, ho! How disgusted the Cleeve family will be! Ha, ha! [Testily.] Come, why don't you smile--laugh? You can afford to do so! Show your pretty white teeth! Laugh!

AGNES. [Hysterically.] Ha, ha, ha! Ha!

ST. OLPHERTS. That's better! [Pushing the cigarette-box towards him, she takes a cigarette and places it between her lips. He also takes a cigarette gaily. They smoke--she standing, with an elbow resting upon the top of the stove, looking down upon him.]

ST. OLPHERTS. [As he lights his cigarette.] This isn't explosive, I hope? No nitric and sulphuric acid, with glycerine--eh? [Eyeing her wonderingly and admiringly.] By jove! Which is you--the shabby, shapeless rebel who entertained me this afternoon or--[kissing the tips of his fingers to her]--or that?

AGNES. This--this. [Seating herself, slowly and thoughtfully, facing the stove, her back turned to him.] My sex has found me out.

ST. OLPHERTS. Ha! tsch! [Between his teeth.] Damn it, for your sake I almost wish Lucas was a different sort of feller!

AGNES. [Partly to herself, with intensity.] Nothing matters now--not even that. He's mine. He would have died but for me. I gave him life. He is my child, my husband, my lover, my bread, my daylight--all-- everything. Mine! Mine!

ST. OLPHERTS. [Rising and limping over to her.] Good luck, my girl.

AGNES. Thanks!

ST. OLPHERTS. I'm rather sorry for you. This sort of triumph is short-lived, you know.

AGNES. [Turning to him.] I know. But I shall fight for every moment that prolongs it. This is my hour.

ST. OLPHERTS. Your hour--?

AGNES. There's only one hour in a woman's life.

ST. OLPHERTS. One--?

AGNES. One supreme hour. Her poor life is like the arch of a crescent; so many years lead up to that hour, so many weary years decline from it. No matter what she may strive for, there is a moment when Circumstance taps her upon the shoulder and says "Woman, this hour is the best that Earth has to spare you." It may come to her in calm or in temper, lighted by a steady radiance or by the glitter of evil stars; but however it comes, be it good or evil, it is her hour--let her dwell upon every second of it!

ST. OLPHERTS. And this little victory of yours--the possession of this man; you think this is the best that Earth can spare you? [She nods slowly and deliberately, with fixed eyes.] Dear me, how amusin' you women are! And in your dowdy days you had ambitions? [She looks at him suddenly.] They were of a queer, gunpowder-and-faggot sort--but they were ambitions.

AGNES. [Starting up.] Oh--! [Putting her hands to her brows.] Oh--! [Facing him.] Yes, yes! You're right! Once, long ago, I hoped that my hour would be very different from this. Ambitions! I have seen myself, standing, humbly-clad, looking down upon a dense, swaying crowd--a scarlet flag for my background. I have seen the responsive look upon thousands of white, eager, hungry faces, and I've heard the great hoarse shout of welcome as I have seized my flag and hurried down amongst the people--to be given a place among their leaders! I! With the leaders, the leaders! Yes, that is what I once hoped would be my hour! [Her voice sinking.] But this is my hour.

ST. OLPHERTS. Well, my dear, when it's over, you'll have the satisfaction of counting the departing footsteps of a ruined man.

AGNES. Ruined--!

ST. OLPHERTS. Yes, there's great compensation in that--for women.

AGNES. [Sitting.] Why do you suggest he'll be ruined through me? [Uneasily.] At any rate, he'd ended his old career before we met.

ST. OLPHERTS. Pardon me; it's not now too late for him to resume that career. The threads are not quite broken yet.

AGNES. Oh, the scandal in London--

ST. OLPHERTS. Would be dispelled by this sham reconciliation with his wife.

AGNES. [Looking at him.] Sham--?

ST. OLPHERTS. Why, of course. All we desired to arrange was that for the future their household should be conducted strictly a la mode.

AGNES. A la mode?

ST. OLPHERTS. [Behind the settee, looking down upon her.] Mr. Cleeve in one quarter of the house, Mrs. Cleeve in another.

AGNES. Oh, yes.

ST. OLPHERTS. A proper aspect to the world, combined with freedom on both sides. It's a more decorous system than the aggressive Free Union you once advocated; and it's much in vogue at my end of town.

AGNES. Your plan was a little more subtle than I gave you credit for. This was to be your method of getting rid of me!

ST. OLPHERTS. No, no. Don't you understand? With regard to yourself, we could have arrived at a compromise.

AGNES. A compromise?

ST. OLPHERTS. It would have made us quite happy to see you placed upon a--upon a somewhat different footing.

AGNES. What kind of--footing?

ST. OLPHERTS. The suburban villa, the little garden, a couple of discreet servants--everything a la mode.

[There is a brief pause. The she rises and walks across the room, outwardly calm but twisting her hands.]

AGNES. Well, you've had Mr. Cleeve's answer to that.

ST. OLPHERTS. Yes.

AGNES. Which finally disposes of the whole matter--disposes of it--

ST. OLPHERTS. Completely. [Struck by an idea.] Unless you--

AGNES. [Turning to him.] Unless I--

ST. OLPHERTS. Unless you--

AGNES. [After a moment's pause.] What did Lucas say to you when you--?

ST. OLPHERTS. He said he knew you'd never make that sacrifice for him. [She pulls herself up rigidly.] So he declined to pain you by asking you to do it.

AGNES. [Crossing swiftly to the settee, and speaking straight into his face.] That's a lie!

ST. OLPHERTS. Keep your temper, my dear.

AGNES. [Passionately.] His love may not last--it won't!--but at this moment he loves me better than that! He wouldn't make a mere light thing of me!

ST. OLPHERTS. Wouldn't he? You try him!

AGNES. What!

ST. OLPHERTS. You put him to the test!

AGNES. [With her hands to her brows.] Oh--!

ST. OLPHERTS. No, no--don't!

AGNES. [Faintly.] Why?

ST. OLPHERTS. I like you. Damn him--you deserve to live your hour!

[LUCAS enters with a letter in his hand. AGNES sits.]

LUCAS. [Giving ST. OLPHERTS the letter.] Thanks. [St. OLPHERTS pockets the letter and picks up his cloak, LUCAS assisting him.]

AGNES. [Outwardly calm.] Oh--Lucas--

LUCAS. Yes?

AGNES. The Duke has been--has been--telling me--

LUCAS. What, dear?

AGNES. The sort of arrangement proposed for your going back to London.

LUCAS. Oh, my brother's brilliant idea!

AGNES. Acquiesced in by your wife. [ST. OLPHERTS strolls away from them.]

LUCAS. Certainly; as I anticipated, she has become intensely dissatisfied with her position.

AGNES. And it would be quite possible, it seems, for you to resume your old career?

LUCAS. Just barely possible--well, for the moment, quite possible.

AGNES. Quite possible.

LUCAS. I haven't, formally, made a sign to my political friends yet. It's a task one leaves to the last. I shall do so now--at once. My people have been busying themselves, it appears, in reporting that I shall return to London directly my health is fully re-established.

AGNES. In the hope--? Oh, yes.

LUCAS. Hoping they'd be able to separate us before it was too--too late.

AGNES. Which hope they've now relinquished?

LUCAS. Apparently.

AGNES. They're prepared to accept a--a compromise, I hear?

LUCAS. Ha!--yes.

AGNES. A compromise in my favour?

LUCAS. [Hesitatingly.] They suggest--

AGNES. Yes, yes, I know. [Looking at him searchingly.] After all, your old career was--a success. You made your mark, as you were saying the other day. You did make your mark. [He walks up and down restlessly, abstractedly, her eyes following him.] You were generally spoken of, accepted, as a Coming Man. The Coming Man, often, wasn't it?

LUCAS. [With an impatient wave of the hand.] That doesn't matter!

AGNES. And now you are giving it up--giving it all up.

[He sits on the settee, resting his elbow on his knee, pushing his hand through his hair.]

LUCAS. But--but you believe I shall succeed equally well in this new career of mine?

AGNES. [Stonily.] There's the risk, you must remember.

LUCAS. Obviously, there's the risk. Why do you say all this to me now?

AGNES. Because now is the opportunity to--to go back.

LUCAS. [Scornfully.] Opportunity--?

AGNES. An excellent one. You're so strong and well now.

LUCAS. Thanks to you.

AGNES. [Staring before her.] Well--I did nurse you carefully, didn't I?

LUCAS. But I don't understand you. You are surely not proposing to--to --break with me?

AGNES. No--I--I--I was only thinking that you--you might see something in this suggestion of a compromise.

[LUCAS glances at ST. OLPHERTS, whose back is turned to them. ST. OLPHERTS instinctively looks round, then goes and sits by the window.]

LUCAS. [Looking at her searchingly.] Well, but--you--?

AGNES. [With assumed indifference.] Oh, I--

LUCAS. You?

AGNES. Lucas, don't--don't make me paramount. [He moves to the end of the settee, showing by a look that he desires her to sit by him. After a moment's hesitation she takes her place beside him.]

LUCAS. [In an undertone.] I do make you paramount. I do. My dear girl, under any circumstances you would still be everything to me--always. [She nods with a vacant look.] There would have to be this pretence of an establishment of mine--that would have to be faced; the whited sepulchre, the mockery of dinners and receptions and so on. But it would be to you I should fly for sympathy, encouragement, rest.

AGNES. Even if you were ill again--

LUCAS. Even then, if it were practicable--if it could be--if it--

AGNES. [Looking him in the face.] Well--?

LUCAS. [Avoiding her gaze.] Yes, dear?

AGNES. What do you say, then, to asking the Duke to give you back that letter to your brother?

LUCAS. It wouldn't settle matters, simply destroying that letter. Sandford begs me to go round to the Danieli tonight, to--to--

AGNES. To see him? [LUCAS nods.] And her? [He shrugs his shoulders.] At what time? Was any time specified?

LUCAS. Half-past nine.

AGNES. I--I haven't my watch on.

LUCAS. [Referring to his watch.] Nine twenty-five.

AGNES. You can almost manage it--if you'd like to go.

LUCAS. Oh, let them wait a few minutes for me; that won't hurt them.

AGNES. [Dazed.] Let me see--I did fetch your hat and coat--[She rises and walks mechanically, stumbling against a chair. LUCAS looks up, alarmed; ST. OLPHERTS rises.]

AGNES. [Replacing the chair.] It's all right; I didn't notice this. [Bringing LUCAS'S hat and coat, and assisting him with the latter.] How long will you be?

LUCAS. Not more than half an hour. An hour at the outside.

AGNES. [Arranging his neck handkerchief.] Keep this so.

LUCAS. Er--if--if I--if we--

AGNES. The Duke is waiting. [LUCAS turns away, and joins ST. OLPHERTS.]

LUCAS. [To him, in a low voice.] I am going back to the hotel with you.

ST. OLPHERTS. Oh, are you? [The door opens and FORTUNE enters, followed by AMOS WINTERFIELD. FORTUNE retires.]

AMOS. [To LUCAS, sternly.] Is my sister still here, may I ask? [LUCAS looks to AGNES interrogatively. She inclines her head.]

AMOS. I should like her to know that I am waiting for her. [AGNES goes out.]

LUCAS. [To AMOS.] Pray excuse me.

[AMOS draws back. ST. OLPHERTS passes out. At the door, LUCAS pauses, and bows slightly to AMOS, who returns his bow in the same fashion; then LUCAS follows ST. OLPHERTS. GERTRUDE enters, wearing her hat and mantle. AGNES follows; her movements are unsteady, and there is a wild look in her eyes.]

GERTRUDE. You've come to fetch me, Amos? [He assents by a nod.]

AMOS. [To AGNES.] I'm sorry to learn from Dr. Kirke that you've been ill. I hope you're better.

AGNES. [Turning away, GERTRUDE watching her.] Thank you, I am quite well.

AMOS. [Gruffly.] Are you ready, Gertrude?

GERTRUDE. No, dear, not yet. I want you to help me.

AMOS. In what way?

GERTRUDE. I want you to join me in persuading Mrs. Ebbsmith--my friend, Mrs. Ebbsmith--to come to Ketherick with me.

AMOS. My dear sister--!

GERTRUDE. [Firmly.] Please, Amos!

AGNES. Stop a moment! Mr. Winterfield, your sister doesn't in the least understand how matters are with me. I am returning to England, but with Mr. Cleeve. [Recklessly.] Oh, you'd hear of it eventually! He is reconciled to his wife.

GERTRUDE. Oh--! Then, surely, you--!

AGNES. No. The reconciliation goes no further than mere outward appearances. He relies upon me as much as ever. [Beating her hands together passionately.] He can't spare me--can't spare me!

AMOS. [In a low voice to GERTRUDE.] Are you satisfied?

GERTRUDE. I suspected something of the kind. [Going to AGNES, gripping her wrist tightly.] Pull yourself out of the mud! Get up out of the mud!

AGNES. I have no will to--no desire to!

GERTRUDE. You mad thing!

AGNES. [Releasing herself, facing GERTRUDE and AMOS.] You're only breaking in upon my hour.

GERTRUDE. Your hour--?

AGNES. [Waving them away.] I ask you to go--to go! [GERTRUDE returns to AMOS.]

AMOS. My dear Gertrude, you see what our position is here. If Mrs. Ebbsmith asks for our help it is our duty to give it.

GERTRUDE. It is especially my duty, Amos.

AMOS. And I should have thought it especially mine. However, Mrs. Ebbsmith appears to firmly decline our help. And at this point, I confess, I would rather you left it--you, at least.

GERTRUDE. You would rather I left it--I, the virtuous, unsoiled woman! Yes, I am a virtuous woman, Amos; and it strikes you as odd, I suppose, my insisting upon friendship with her. But look here, both of you. I'll tell you a secret. You never knew it, Amos my dear. I never allowed anybody to suspect it--

AMOS. Never knew what?

GERTRUDE. The sort of married life mine was. It didn't last long, but it was dreadful, almost intolerable.

AMOS. Gertrude!

GERTRUDE. After the first few weeks--weeks, not months!--after the first few weeks of it, my husband treated me as cruelly--[turning to AGNES]--just as cruelly, I do believe, as your husband treated you. [AMOS makes a movement, showing astonishment.] Wait! Now then! There was another man--one I loved--one I couldn't help loving! I could have found release with him, perhaps happiness of a kind. I resisted, came through it. They're dead--the two are dead! And here I am, a virtuous, reputable woman; saved by the blessed mercy of Heaven! There, you are not surprised any longer, Amos! [Pointing to AGNES.] "My friend, Mrs Ebbsmith!" [Bursting into tears.] Oh! Oh, if my little boy had been spared to me, he should have grown up tender to women--tender to women! He should, he should--! [She sits upon the settee, weeping . . . There is a short silence.]

AMOS. Mrs. Ebbsmith, when I came here tonight I was angry with Gertrude --not altogether, I hope, for being in your company. But I was certainly angry with her for visiting you without my knowledge. I think I sometimes forget that she is eight-and-twenty, not eighteen. Well, now I offer to delay our journey home for a few days, if you hold out the faintest hope that her companionship is likely to aid you in any way.

[AGNES, standing motionless, makes no response. AMOS crosses to her, and as he passes GERTRUDE, he lets his hand drop over her shoulder; she clasps it, then rises and moves to a chair, where she sits, crying silently.]

AMOS. [By AGNES' side--in a low voice.] You heard what she said. Saved by the mercy of Heaven.

AGNES. Yes, but she can feel that.

AMOS. You felt so once.

AGNES. Once--?

AMOS. You have, in years gone by, asked for help on your knees.

AGNES. It never came.

AMOS. Repeat your cry!

AGNES. There would be no answer.

AMOS. Repeat it!

AGNES. [Turning upon him.] If miracles could happen! If "help", as you term it, did come! Do you know what "help" would mean to me?

AMOS. What--?

AGNES. It would take the last crumb from me!

AMOS. This man's--protection?

AGNES. [Defiantly.] Yes

AMOS. Oh, Mrs. Ebbsmith--!

AGNES. [Pointing to the door.] Well, I've asked you both to leave me, haven't I! [Pointing at GERTRUDE, who has risen.] The man she loves is dead and gone! She can moralise--! [Sitting, beating upon the settee with her hands.] Leave me! [AMOS joins GERTRUDE.]

GERTRUDE. We'll go, Amos. [He takes from his pocket a small leather-bound book; the cover is well-worn and shabby.]

AMOS. [Writing upon the fly-leaf of the book with a pencil.] I am writing our address here, Mrs. Ebbsmith.

AGNES. [In a hard voice.] I already have it. [GERTRUDE glances at the book over AMOS'S shoulder, and looks at him wonderingly.]

AMOS. [Laying the book on the settee by AGNES' side.] You might forget it. [She stares at the book, with knitted brows, for a moment, then stretches out her hand and opens it.]

AGNES. [Withdrawing her hand sharply.] No--I don't accept your gift.

AMOS. The address of two friends is upon the fly-leaf.