Part 3

[_She goes out;_ PAULA _ceases playing, and turns on the music-stool looking at_ AUBREY.

PAULA.

Well, have you and Ellean had your little confidence?

AUBREY.

Confidence?

PAULA.

Do you think I couldn't feel it, like a pain between my shoulders?

AUBREY.

Ellean is coming back in a few minutes to be with you. [_Bending over her._] Paula, Paula dear, is this how you keep your promise?

PAULA.

Oh! [_Rising impatiently and crossing swiftly to the settee, where she sits, moving restlessly._] I _can't_ keep my promise; I _am_ jealous; it won't be smothered. I see you looking at her, watching her; your voice drops when you speak to her. I know how fond you are of that girl, Aubrey.

AUBREY.

What would you have? I've no other home for her. She is my daughter.

PAULA.

She is your saint. Saint Ellean!

AUBREY.

You have often told me how good and sweet you think her.

PAULA.

Good!--yes! Do you imagine _that_ makes me less jealous? [_Going to him and clinging to his arm._] Aubrey, there are two sorts of affection--the love for a woman you respect, and the love for a woman you--love. She gets the first from you: I never can.

AUBREY.

Hush, hush! you don't realise what you say.

PAULA.

If Ellean cared for me only a little, it would be different. I shouldn't be jealous then. Why doesn't she care for me?

AUBREY.

She--she--she will, in time.

PAULA.

You can't say that without stuttering.

AUBREY.

Her disposition seems a little unresponsive; she resembles her mother in many ways; I can see it every day.

PAULA.

She's marble. It's a shame. There's not the slightest excuse; for all she knows, I'm as much a saint as she--only married. Dearest, help me to win her over!

AUBREY.

Help you?

PAULA.

You can. Teach her that it is her duty to love me; she hangs on to every word you speak. I'm sure, Aubrey, that the love of a nice woman who believed me to be like herself would do me a world of good. You'd get the benefit of it as well as I. It would soothe me; it would make me less horribly restless; it would take this--this--mischievous feeling from me. [_Coaxingly._] Aubrey!

AUBREY.

Have patience; everything will come right.

PAULA.

Yes, if you help me.

AUBREY.

In the meantime you will tear up your letter to Lady Orreyed, won't you?

PAULA.

[_Kissing his hand._] Of course I will--anything!

AUBREY.

Ah, thank you, dearest! [_Laughing._] Why, good gracious!--ha, ha!--just imagine "Saint Ellean" and that woman side by side!

PAULA.

[_Going back with a cry._] Ah!

AUBREY.

What?

PAULA.

[_Passionately._] It's Ellean you're considering, not me? It's all Ellean with you! Ellean! Ellean!

ELLEAN _re-enters._

ELLEAN.

Did you call me, Paula? [_Clenching his hands,_ AUBREY _turns away and goes out._] Is papa angry?

PAULA.

I drive him distracted sometimes. There, I confess it!

ELLEAN.

Do you? Oh, why do you?

PAULA.

Because I--because I'm jealous.

ELLEAN.

Jealous?

PAULA.

Yes--of you. [ELLEAN _is silent._] Well, what do you think of that?

ELLEAN.

I knew it; I've seen it. It hurts me dreadfully. What do you wish me to do? Go away?

PAULA.

Leave us! [_Beckoning her with a motion of the head._] Look here! [ELLEAN _goes to_ PAULA _slowly and unresponsively._] You could cure me of my jealousy very easily. Why don't you--like me?

ELLEAN.

What do you mean by--like you? I don't understand.

PAULA.

Love me.

ELLEAN.

Love is not a feeling that is under one's control. I shall alter as time goes on, perhaps. I didn't begin to love my father deeply till a few months ago, and then I obeyed my mother.

PAULA.

Ah, yes, you dream things, don't you--see them in your sleep? You fancy your mother speaks to you?

ELLEAN.

When you have lost your mother it is a comfort to believe that she is dead only to this life, that she still watches over her child. I do believe that of my mother.

PAULA.

Well, and so you haven't been bidden to love _me_?

ELLEAN.

[_After a pause, almost inaudibly._] No.

PAULA.

Dreams are only a hash-up of one's day-thoughts, I suppose you know. Think intently of anything, and it's bound to come back to you at night. I don't cultivate dreams myself.

ELLEAN.

Ah, I knew you would only sneer!

PAULA.

I'm not sneering; I'm speaking the truth. I say that if you cared for me in the daytime I should soon make friends with those nightmares of yours. Ellean, why don't you try to look on me as your second mother? Of course there are not many years between us, but I'm ever so much older than you--in experience. I shall have no children of my own, I know that; it would be a real comfort to me if you would make me feel we belonged to each other. Won't you? Perhaps you think I'm odd--not nice. Well, the fact is I've two sides to my nature, and I've let the one almost smother the other. A few years ago I went through some trouble, and since then I haven't shed a tear. I believe if you put your arms round me just once I should run upstairs and have a good cry. There, I've talked to you as I've never talked to a woman in my life. Ellean, you seem to fear me. Don't! Kiss me!

[_With a cry, almost of despair,_ ELLEAN _turns from_ PAULA _and sinks on to the settee, covering her face with her hands._

PAULA.

[_Indignantly._] Oh! Why is it! How dare you treat me like this? What do you mean by it? What do you mean?

_A_ SERVANT _enters._

SERVANT.

Mr. Drummle, ma'am.

CAYLEY DRUMMLE, _in riding dress, enters briskly._

_The_ SERVANT _retires._

PAULA.

[_Recovering herself._] Well, Cayley!

DRUMMLE.

[_Shaking hands with her cordially._] How are you? [_Shaking hands with_ ELLEAN, _who rises._] I saw you in the distance an hour ago, in the gorse near Stapleton's.

ELLEAN.

I didn't see you, Mr. Drummle.

DRUMMLE.

My dear Ellean, it is my experience that no charming young lady of nineteen ever does see a man of forty-five. [_Laughing._] Ha, Ha!

ELLEAN.

[_Going to the door._] Paula, papa wishes me to drive down to the village with you this morning. Do you care to take me?

PAULA.

[_Coldly._] Oh, by all means. Pray tell Watts to balance the cart for three.

[ELLEAN _goes out._

DRUMMLE.

How's Aubrey?

PAULA.

Very well--when Ellean's about the house.

DRUMMLE.

And you? I needn't ask.

PAULA.

[_Walking away to the window._] Oh, a dog's life, my dear Cayley, mine.

DRUMMLE.

Eh?

PAULA.

Doesn't that define a happy marriage? I'm sleek, well-kept, well-fed, never without a bone to gnaw and fresh straw to lie upon. [_Gazing out of the window._] Oh, dear me!

DRUMMLE.

H'm! Well, I heartily congratulate you on your kennel. The view from the terrace here is superb.

PAULA.

Yes, I can see London.

DRUMMLE.

London! Not quite so far, surely?

PAULA.

_I_ can. Also the Mediterranean, on a fine day. I wonder what Algiers looks like this morning from the sea! [_Impulsively._] Oh, Cayley, do you remember those jolly times on board Peter Jarman's yacht when we lay off----? [_Stopping suddenly, seeing_ DRUMMLE _staring at her._] Good gracious! What are we talking about!

AUBREY _enters._

AUBREY.

[_To Drummle._] Dear old chap! Has Paula asked you?

PAULA.

Not yet.

AUBREY.

We want you to come to us, now that you're leaving Mrs. Cortelyon--at once, to-day. Stay a month, as long as you please--eh, Paula?

PAULA.

As long as you can possibly endure it--do, Cayley.

DRUMMLE.

[_Looking at Aubrey._] Delighted. [_To Paula._] Charming of you to have me.

PAULA.

My dear man, you're a blessing. I must telegraph to London for more fish! A strange appetite to cater for! Something to do, to do, to do!

[_She goes out in a mood of almost childish delight._

DRUMMLE.

[_Eyeing Aubrey._] Well?

AUBREY.

[_With a wearied, anxious look._] Well, Cayley?

DRUMMLE.

How are you getting on?

AUBREY.

My position doesn't grow less difficult. I told you, when I met you last week, of this feverish, jealous attachment of Paula's for Ellean?

DRUMMLE.

Yes. I hardly know why, but I came to the conclusion that you don't consider it an altogether fortunate attachment.

AUBREY.

Ellean doesn't respond to it.

DRUMMLE.

These are early days. Ellean will warm towards your wife by-and-by.

AUBREY.

Ah, but there's the question, Cayley!

DRUMMLE.

What question?

AUBREY.

The question which positively distracts me. Ellean is so different from--most women; I don't believe a purer creature exists out of heaven. And I--I ask myself, am I doing right in exposing her to the influence of poor Paula's light, careless nature?

DRUMMLE.

My dear Aubrey!

AUBREY.

That shocks you! So it does me. I assure you I long to urge my girl to break down the reserve which keeps her apart from Paula, but somehow I can't do it--well, I don't do it. How can I make you understand? But when you come to us you'll understand quickly enough. Cayley, there's hardly a subject you can broach on which poor Paula hasn't some strange, out-of-the-way thought to give utterance to; some curious, warped notion. They are not mere worldly thoughts--unless, good God! they belong to the little hellish world which our blackguardism has created: no, her ideas have too little calculation in them to be called worldly. But it makes it the more dreadful that such thoughts should be ready, spontaneous; that expressing them has become a perfectly natural process; that her words, acts even, have almost lost their proper significance for her, and seem beyond her control. Ah, and the pain of listening to it all from the woman one loves, the woman one hoped to make happy and contented, who is really and truly a good woman, as it were, maimed! Well, this is my burden, and I shouldn't speak to you of it but for my anxiety about Ellean. Ellean! What is to be her future? It is in my hands; what am I to do? Cayley, when I remember how Ellean comes to me, from another world I always think, when I realise the charge that's laid on me, I find myself wishing, in a sort of terror, that my child were safe under the ground!

DRUMMLE.

My dear Aubrey, aren't you making a mistake?

AUBREY.

Very likely. What is it?

DRUMMLE.

A mistake, not in regarding your Ellean as an angel, but in believing that, under any circumstances, it would be possible for her to go through life without getting her white robe--shall we say, a little dusty at the hem? Don't take me for a cynic. I am sure there are many women upon earth who are almost divinely innocent; but being on earth, they must send their robes to the laundry occasionally. Ah, and it's right that they should have to do so, for what can they learn from the checking of their little washing-bills but lessons of charity? Now I see but two courses open to you for the disposal of your angel.

AUBREY.

Yes?

DRUMMLE.

You must either restrict her to a paradise which is, like every earthly paradise, necessarily somewhat imperfect, or treat her as an ordinary flesh-and-blood young woman, and give her the advantages of that society to which she properly belongs.

AUBREY.

Advantages?

DRUMMLE.

My dear Aubrey, of all forms of innocence mere ignorance is the least admirable. Take my advice, let her walk and talk and suffer and be healed with the great crowd. Do it, and hope that she'll some day meet a good, honest fellow who'll make her life complete, happy, secure. Now you see what I'm driving at.

AUBREY.

A sanguine programme, my dear Cayley! Oh, I'm not pooh-poohing it. Putting sentiment aside, of course I know that a fortunate marriage for Ellean would be the best--perhaps the only--solution of my difficulty. But you forget the danger of the course you suggest.

DRUMMLE.

Danger?

AUBREY.

If Ellean goes among men and women, how can she escape from learning, sooner or later, the history of--poor Paula's--old life?

DRUMMLE.

H'm! You remember the episode of the Jeweller's Son in the Arabian Nights? Of course you don't. Well, if your daughter lives, she _can't_ escape--what you're afraid of. [AUBREY _gives a half stifled exclamation of pain._] And when she does hear the story, surely it would be better that she should have some knowledge of the world to help her to understand it.

AUBREY.

To understand!

DRUMMLE.

To understand, to--to philosophise.

AUBREY.

To philosophise?

DRUMMLE.

Philosophy is toleration, and it is only one step from toleration to forgiveness.

AUBREY.

You're right, Cayley; I believe you always are. Yes, yes. But, even if I had the courage to attempt to solve the problem of Ellean's future in this way, I--I'm helpless.

DRUMMLE.

How?

AUBREY.

What means have I now of placing my daughter in the world I've left?

DRUMMLE.

Oh, some friend--some woman friend.

AUBREY.

I have none; they're gone.

DRUMMLE.

You're wrong there; I know one----

AUBREY.

[_Listening._] That's Paula's cart. Let's discuss this again.

DRUMMLE.

[_Going up to the window and looking out._] It isn't the dog-cart. [_Turning to_ AUBREY.] I hope you'll forgive me, old chap.

AUBREY.

What for?

DRUMMLE.

Whose wheels do you think have been cutting ruts in your immaculate drive?

_A_ SERVANT _enters._

SERVANT.

[_To_ AUBREY.] Mrs. Cortelyon, sir.

AUBREY.

Mrs. Cortelyon! [_After a short pause._] Very well. [_The_ SERVANT _withdraws._] What on earth is the meaning of this?

DRUMMLE.

Ahem! While I've been our old friend's guest, Aubrey, we have very naturally talked a good deal about you and yours.

AUBREY.

Indeed, have you?

DRUMMLE.

Yes, and Alice Cortelyon has arrived at the conclusion that it would have been far kinder had she called on Mrs. Tanqueray long ago. She's going abroad for Easter before settling down in London for the season, and I believe she has come over this morning to ask for Ellean's companionship.

AUBREY.

Oh, I see! [_Frowning._] Quite a friendly little conspiracy, my dear Cayley!

DRUMMLE.

Conspiracy! Not at all, I assure you. [_Laughing._] Ha, ha!

ELLEAN _enters from the hall with_ MRS. CORTELYON,_a handsome, good humoured, spirited woman of about forty-five._

ELLEAN.

Papa----

MRS. CORTELYON.

[_To_ AUBREY, _shaking hands with him heartily._] Well, Aubrey, how are you? I've just been telling this great girl of yours that I knew her when she was a sad-faced, pale baby. How is Mrs. Tanqueray? I have been a bad neighbour, and I'm here to beg forgiveness. Is she indoors?

AUBREY.

She's upstairs putting on a hat, I believe.

MRS. CORTELYON.

[_Sitting comfortably._] Ah! [_She looks round:_ DRUMMLE _and_ ELLEAN _are talking together in the hall._] We used to be very frank with each other, Aubrey. I suppose the old footing is no longer possible, eh?

AUBREY.

If so, I'm not entirely to blame, Mrs. Cortelyon.

MRS. CORTELYON.

Mrs. Cortelyon? H'm! No, I admit it. But you must make some little allowance for me, _Mr. Tanqueray_. Your first wife and I, as girls, were like two cherries on one stalk, and then I was the confidential friend of your married life. That post, perhaps, wasn't altogether a sinecure. And now--well, when a woman gets to my age I suppose she's a stupid, prejudiced, conventional creature. However, I've got over it and--[_giving him her hand_]--I hope you'll be enormously happy and let me be a friend once more.

AUBREY.

Thank you, Alice.

MRS. CORTELYON.

That's right. I feel more cheerful than I've done for weeks. But I suppose it would serve me right if the second Mrs. Tanqueray showed me the door. Do you think she will?

AUBREY.

[_Listening._] Here is my wife. [MRS. CORTELYON _rises, and_ PAULA _enters, dressed for driving; she stops abruptly on seeing_ MRS. CORTELYON.] Paula dear, Mrs. Cortelyon has called to see you.

[PAULA _starts, looks at_ MRS. CORTELYON _irresolutely, then after a slight pause barely touches_ MRS. CORTELYON'S _extended hand._

PAULA.

[_Whose manner now alternates between deliberate insolence and assumed sweetness._] Mrs.----? What name, Aubrey?

AUBREY.

Mrs. Cortelyon.

PAULA.

Cortelyon? Oh, yes. Cortelyon.

MRS. CORTELYON.

[_Carefully guarding herself throughout against any expression of resentment._] Aubrey ought to have told you that Alice Cortelyon and he are very old friends.

PAULA.

Oh, very likely he has mentioned the circumstance. I have quite a wretched memory.

MRS. CORTELYON.

You know we are neighbours, Mrs. Tanqueray.

PAULA.

Neighbours? Are we really? Won't you sit down? [_They both sit._] Neighbours! That's most interesting!

MRS. CORTELYON.

Very near neighbours. You can see my roof from your windows.

PAULA.

I fancy I _have_ observed a roof. But you have been away from home; you have only just returned.

MRS. CORTELYON.

I? What makes you think that?

PAULA.

Why, because it is two months since we came to Highercoombe, and I don't remember your having called.

MRS. CORTELYON.

Your memory is now terribly accurate. No, I've not been away from home, and it is to explain my neglect that I am here, rather unceremoniously, this morning.

PAULA.

Oh, to explain--quite so. [_With mock solicitude._] Ah, you've been very ill; I ought to have seen that before.

MRS. CORTELYON.

Ill!

PAULA.

You look dreadfully pulled down. We poor women show illness so plainly in our faces, don't we?

AUBREY.

[_Anxiously._] Paula dear, Mrs. Cortelyon is the picture of health.

MRS. CORTELYON.

[_With some asperity._] I have never _felt_ better in my life.

PAULA.

[_Looking round innocently._] Have I said anything awkward? Aubrey, tell Mrs. Cortelyon how stupid and thoughtless I always am!

MRS. CORTELYON.

[_To_ DRUMMLE _who is now standing close to her._] Really, Cayley----! [_He soothes her with a nod and smile and a motion of his finger to his lip._] Mrs. Tanqueray, I am afraid my explanation will not be quite so satisfactory as either of those you have just helped me to. You may have heard--but, if you have heard, you have doubtless forgotten--that twenty years ago, when your husband first lived here, I was a constant visitor at Highercoombe.

PAULA.

Twenty years ago--fancy. I was a naughty little child then.

MRS. CORTELYON.

Possibly. Well, at that time, and till the end of her life, my affections were centred upon the lady of this house.

PAULA.

Were they? That was very sweet of you.

[ELLEAN _approaches_ MRS. CORTELYON, _listening intently to her._

MRS. CORTELYON.

I will say no more on that score, but I must add this: when, two months ago, you came here, I realised, perhaps for the first time, that I was a middle-aged woman, and that it had become impossible for me to accept without some effort a breaking-in upon many tender associations. There, Mrs. Tanqueray, that is my confession. Will you try to understand it and pardon me?

PAULA.

[_Watching_ ELLEAN,--_sneeringly._] Ellean dear, you appear to be very interested in Mrs. Cortelyon's reminiscences; I don't think I can do better than make you my mouthpiece--there is such sympathy between us. What do you say--can we bring ourselves to forgive Mrs. Cortelyon for neglecting us for two weary months?

MRS. CORTELYON.

[_To_ ELLEAN, _pleasantly._] Well, Ellean? [_With a little cry of tenderness_ ELLEAN _impulsively sits beside_ MRS. CORTELYON _and takes her hand._] My dear child!

PAULA.

[_In an undertone to_ AUBREY.] Ellean isn't so very slow in taking to Mrs. Cortelyon!

MRS. CORTELYON.

[_To_ PAULA _and_ AUBREY.] Come, this encourages me to broach my scheme. Mrs. Tanqueray, it strikes me that you two good people are just now excellent company for each other, while Ellean would perhaps be glad of a little peep into the world you are anxious to avoid. Now, I'm going to Paris to-morrow for a week or two before settling down in Chester Square, so--don't gasp, both of you!--if this girl is willing, and you have made no other arrangements for her, will you let her come with me to Paris, and afterwards remain with me in town during the Season? [ELLEAN _utters an exclamation of surprise._ PAULA _is silent._] What do you say?

AUBREY.

Paula--Paula dear. [_Hesitatingly._] My dear Mrs. Cortelyon, this is wonderfully kind of you; I am really at a loss to--eh, Cayley?

DRUMMLE.

[_Watching_ PAULA _apprehensively._] Kind! Now I must say I don't think so! I begged Alice to take _me_ to Paris, and she declined. I am thrown over for Ellean! Ha! ha!

MRS. CORTELYON.

[_Laughing._] What nonsense you talk, Cayley!

[_The laughter dies out._ PAULA _remains quite still._

AUBREY.

Paula dear.

PAULA.

[_Slowly collecting herself._] One moment. I--I don't quite---- [_To_ MRS. CORTELYON.] You propose that Ellean leaves Highercoombe almost at once and remains with you some months?

MRS. CORTELYON.

It would be a mercy to me. You can afford to be generous to a desolate old widow. Come, Mrs. Tanqueray, won't you spare her?

PAULA.

Won't _I_ spare her. [_Suspiciously._] Have you mentioned your plan to Aubrey--before I came in?

MRS. CORTELYON.

No, I had no opportunity.

PAULA.

Nor to Ellean?

MRS. CORTELYON.

Oh, no.

PAULA.

[_Looking about her, in suppressed excitement._] This hasn't been discussed at all, behind my back?

MRS. CORTELYON.

My dear Mrs. Tanqueray!

PAULA.

Ellean, let us hear your voice in the matter!

ELLEAN.

I should like to go with Mrs. Cortelyon--

PAULA.

Ah!

ELLEAN.

That is, if--if----

PAULA.

If--if what?

ELLEAN.

_[Looking towards_ AUBREY, _appealingly._] Papa!

PAULA.

[_In a hard voice._] Oh, of course--I forgot. [_To_ AUBREY.] My dear Aubrey, it rests with you, naturally, whether I am--to lose--Ellean.

AUBREY.

Lose Ellean! [_Advancing to_ PAULA.] There is no question of losing Ellean. You would see Ellean in town constantly when she returned from Paris; isn't that so, Mrs. Cortelyon?

MRS. CORTELYON.

Certainly.

PAULA.

[_Laughing softly._] Oh, I didn't know I should be allowed that privilege.

MRS. CORTELYON.

Privilege, my dear Mrs. Tanqueray!

PAULA.

Ha, ha! that makes all the difference, doesn't it?

AUBREY.

[_With assumed gaiety._] All the difference? I should think so! [_To_ ELLEAN, _laying his hand upon her head, tenderly._] And you are quite certain you wish to see what the world is like on the other side of Black Moor?

ELLEAN.

If you are willing, papa, I am quite certain.

AUBREY.

[_Looking at_ PAULA _irresolutely, then speaking with an effort._] Then I--I am willing.

PAULA.

[_Rising and striking the table lightly with her clenched hand._] That decides it! [_There is a general movement. Excitedly to_ MRS. CORTELYON, _who advances towards her._] When do you want her?

MRS. CORTELYON.

We go to town this afternoon at five o'clock, and sleep to-night at Bayliss's. There is barely time for her to make her preparations.

PAULA.

I will undertake that she is ready.

MRS. CORTELYON.

I've a great deal to scramble through at home too, as you may guess. Good-bye!

PAULA.

[_Turning away._] Mrs. Cortelyon is going.

[PAULA _stands looking out of the window, with her back to those in the room._

MRS. CORTELYON.

[_To_ DRUMMLE.] Cayley----

DRUMMLE.

[_To her._] Eh?

MRS. CORTELYON.

I've gone through it, for the sake of Aubrey and his child, but I--I feel a hundred. Is that a mad-woman?

DRUMMLE.

Of course; all jealous women are mad.

[_He goes out with_ AUBREY.

MRS. CORTELYON.

[_Hesitatingly, to_ PAULA.] Good-bye, Mrs. Tanqueray.

[PAULA _inclines her head with the slightest possible movement, then resumes her former position._ ELLEAN _comes from the hall and takes_ MRS. CORTELYON _out of the room. After a brief silence,_ PAULA _turns with a fierce cry, and hurriedly takes off her coat and hat, and tosses them upon the settee._

PAULA.

Oh! Oh! Oh! [_She drops into the chair as_ AUBREY _returns; he stands looking at her._] Who's that?

AUBREY.

I. You have altered your mind about going out?

PAULA.

Yes. Please to ring the bell.

AUBREY.

[_Touching the bell._] You are angry about Mrs. Cortelyon and Ellean. Let me try to explain my reasons----

PAULA.

Be careful what you say to me just now! I have never felt like this--except once--in my life. Be careful what you say to me!