Chapter III: Act IV: On the Threshold (2)

Yes, ma’am. It’s Mr. Wilfrid, Mrs. Renshaw’s brother.

MRS. STONEHAY.

Mrs. Renshaw! Miss Brudenell is married?

PRISCILLA.

A month ago, ma’am.

MRS. STONEHAY.

At home, I hope?

PRISCILLA.

She’s with Mr. Renshaw in the garden, ma’am.

MRS. STONEHAY.

[_Giving PRISCILLA a card._] Your mistress will be delighted to see Mrs. Stonehay and her daughter. She is well and happy?

PRISCILLA.

As happy as the day is long, ma’am.

[_PRISCILLA disappears down the steps._]

MRS. STONEHAY.

Irene, this will save us the expense of tea at Fiesole. [_To WEAVER._] Oh, you will find a young lady outside--my companion; be good enough to tell her to walk on to Fiesole--we will follow in the carriage.

IRENE.

Oh, no, mamma--not walk! The girl looks painfully delicate.

MRS. STONEHAY.

My dear, I will _not_ overload poor dumb animals.

WEAVER.

Excuse me, ma’am, but it’s a terrible up-hill walk to Fiesole, and the sun is very hot at this time of the afternoon.

MRS. STONEHAY.

Thank you. The young lady is in my service.

WEAVER.

Oh, I beg pardon, ma’am. [_WEAVER goes._]

IRENE.

Here she comes, mamma--little Leslie Brudenell. She is quite a woman.

MRS. STONEHAY.

I forget her entirely. We won’t waste much time here; we’ll just ascertain their position, take tea, and leave.

IRENE.

Oh, mamma, will you never admit that one may know people out of pure liking and nothing further!

MRS. STONEHAY.

My dear, do remember my creed! Men and women are sent into the world to help each other. Unfortunately I can help nobody, but it is none the less the solemn duty of others to help me.

[_LESLIE, looking very bright and happy, runs up the steps, meets
IRENE and embraces her affectionately._]

LESLIE.

Dear Irene!

IRENE.

You remember me?

LESLIE.

Remember you! You were kind to me at Helmstead.

IRENE.

I think you saw my mother once.

[_LESLIE bows to MRS. STONEHAY, and is joined by DUNSTAN RENSHAW, who
has lost his dissipated look, and whose manner towards LESLIE is
gentle, watchful, and tender._]

LESLIE.

This is my husband. [_DUNSTAN bows._]

MRS. STONEHAY.

Very happy.

LESLIE.

You will let me give you some tea?

MRS. STONEHAY.

It seems barbarous to intrude upon people so recently married.

DUNSTAN RENSHAW.

On the contrary, Mrs. Stonehay, you may be able to console my wife in her first small grief.

MRS. STONEHAY.

So soon?

LESLIE.

Dunstan is obliged to leave me for two or three days.

DUNSTAN RENSHAW.

I am just off to Rome to furnish some lodgings we have taken there, in the Via Sistina. Poor Leslie was to have accompanied me, but Doctor Coldstream forbids the risk of a Roman hotel.

MRS. STONEHAY.

Leaving this delightful villa!

DUNSTAN RENSHAW.

Yes, the Villa Colobiano is delightful. At any rate Michael Angelo must have thought so at one time, when, in a moment of misapplied artistic ecstacy, he made his mark upon our wall.

LESLIE.

Oh, yes, we’ve suffered dreadfully. Dunstan didn’t know when he took the Villa that it is honourably mentioned in Baedeker.

DUNSTAN RENSHAW.

The irrepressible Tourists have made our life a martyrdom. With guide-book, green spectacles, and sun-umbrella, they look for traces of Michael Angelo in every corner of the house.

LESLIE.

If we’re dining they almost lift up the dish-covers.

DUNSTAN RENSHAW.

At first the servants hinted at a desire for seclusion on the part of a newly married couple.

LESLIE.

That made matters worse; they wanted to see _us_ then.

DUNSTAN RENSHAW.

Just as if we had been tatooed by Michael Angelo.

LESLIE.

[_Taking IRENE’S hand._] But it is such a relief to see real friends. How did you discover us?

[_IRENE and MRS. STONEHAY look at each other._]

IRENE.

We were driving out to Fiesole--and----

MRS. STONEHAY.

The coachman told us we ought to see Michael Angelo’s cartoon.

DUNSTAN RENSHAW.

Oh, of course--delighted--we’re awfully pleased----

LESLIE.

We didn’t mean that we don’t like showing the--the----

MRS. STONEHAY.

What a magnificent view you command here!

LESLIE.

[_Whispering to DUNSTAN._] Oh, darling, what a muddle!

DUNSTAN RENSHAW.

Don’t fret about it, sweetheart. I must go and dress for my journey. You will drive with me to the railway station?

LESLIE.

No, no. I couldn’t part from you with people standing by. Not that I mean to cry.

DUNSTAN RENSHAW.

Cry! You must never shed tears. [_He kisses her fondly while the others are looking at the view._] Why, there’s old Wilfrid asleep. Make him help you with these Stonehenges.

[_He leaves her and she wakes WILFRID._]

LESLIE.

Will! Will!

WILFRID BRUDENELL.

Eh! What is it? I think I must have dropped off to sleep.

LESLIE.

We’ve accidentally hurt some people’s feelings. Assist me in being very nice to them.

WILFRID BRUDENELL.

Yes--but wait a minute. I’m not quite sure--where----

[_She drags WILFRID over to MRS. STONEHAY and IRENE._]

LESLIE.

This is my brother, Wilfrid. [_Quietly to WILFRID._] Rattle on, Will, dear. Wilfrid, you recollect meeting Miss Stonehay at Helmstead.

WILFRID BRUDENELL.

[_Only half awake, seizing MRS. STONEHAY’S hand._] O yes, I recollect you perfectly. You left school some time ago, I suppose?

MRS. STONEHAY.

Yes--five-and-twenty years ago.

LESLIE.

Wilfrid! I want some more teacups. And brush your hair. You’ve made it worse!

WILFRID BRUDENELL.

I’m afraid I am not quite awake.

[_He retires, the rest sit at the tea-table._]

IRENE.

You make me feel quite old, Leslie--to see you so much a woman.

LESLIE.

I am trying to be a woman, but I don’t get on very quickly.

IRENE.

Why try?

LESLIE.

Because I am ashamed that my husband’s wife should be so insignificant.

IRENE.

You seem very fond of him.

LESLIE.

Fond of him! Fond is a poor weak word. If I could realize my dearest desire I would be my husband’s slave.

MRS. STONEHAY.

All new wives who have money and many domestic servants say that.

LESLIE.

Ah, but I would, truly. Do you know what it is to suffer keenly from over-kindness?

IRENE.

I thought that was a malady the Faculty had succeeded in stamping out.

LESLIE.

I suppose it lingers yet in some odd old-world corners; it is within the crumbling walls of this Villa, for instance. My husband is too devoted to me. I fear to have a wish because I know he cannot rest till it is gratified. If I look here, or there, his dear eyes imitate mine; if I rise, he starts up; if I walk on, he follows me. When he takes my hand he holds it as if it were a flower with a delicate bloom upon it; when he speaks to me he lowers his voice like one whispering into some rare shell that would break from too much sound. And all for one who is half a school-girl and half a woman, and so little of either.

[_A man is heard singing a characteristic Italian air to the
accompaniment of a mandolin._]

MRS. STONEHAY.

What’s that?

[_LESLIE runs to the balustrade and waves her hand._]

LESLIE.

That’s Pietro Donigo, one of my husband’s _protégés_. Dunstan wishes him to sing to me every day.

MRS. STONEHAY.

[_Sotto voce._] Good gracious, what next! What is there in this girl to be sung at!

LESLIE.

Dun has been very good to Pietro, who is poor, with an old blind mother. Oh, he is good to everybody--good to everybody!

MRS. STONEHAY.

But, my dear Mrs. Renshaw, a wife ought not to be astonished at her husband’s good-nature in the early days of their marriage. What else did you expect for the first month?

IRENE.

Hush, mamma dear; all Leslie means is that she is proud of her husband’s goodness. What wife would not be?

LESLIE.

Yes, that is it--I am both proud and humble. Why, look! Directly we came here he sought out all the poor; in a few days they have learnt to bless his name, and when I pray for him I think I hear their chant echoing me. I tell you, sometimes I hide myself away to shed tears of gratitude, and it’s then that I think a woman’s heart might be broken less easily by cruelty than by too much kindness!

MRS. STONEHAY.

[_To herself._] This girl’s parade of her model husband is insufferable; it is time I ended it.

[_WILFRID returns._]

MRS. STONEHAY.

By the way, Mrs. Renshaw, I hope that out of your vast contentment you can spare some congratulations for my daughter.

IRENE.

No, no, mamma.

LESLIE.

Congratulations!

MRS. STONEHAY.

During our visit to Rome, Mrs. Renshaw, Irene has become most fortunately engaged.

LESLIE.

[_Embracing IRENE._] To be married?

IRENE.

Yes.

MRS. STONEHAY.

The combination of qualities possessed by Mrs. Renshaw’s husband is rare. Nevertheless I think that some of the finest attributes of heart and mind are bestowed in an eminent degree upon Lord Dangars.

LESLIE.

Dear Irene, I hope you will be--oh, you _must_ be, as happy as I am. Tell me about him. Wilfrid, point out San Croce to Mrs. Stonehay, and--and show her our little garden.

[_WILFRID escorts MRS. STONEHAY towards the garden._]

MRS. STONEHAY.

[_To herself._] The chit has no rank to boast about, at any rate.

LESLIE.

Go on. Do make me your confidante.

IRENE.

No, no.

LESLIE.

Lord Dangars, your mother said. Have I the name correctly? Lady Dangars!

IRENE.

Leslie--I--I can’t talk about it.

LESLIE.

Can’t talk about your sweetheart?

IRENE.

Hush! Lord Dangars is simply a man who wishes to marry me and whom my mother wishes me to marry. We are poor and she has her ambitions; there you have two volumes of a three-volume novel.

LESLIE.

You don’t--love him?

IRENE.

Love him!

LESLIE.

Then you mustn’t do this. Dear, can’t I help you?

IRENE.

_You_ help me! Child, my small corner in the world is hewn out of stone; there’s not a path there that it would not bruise your little feet to tread.

MRS. STONEHAY.

[_To WILFRID._] I am in ecstacy! The moment Lord Dangars arrives in Florence I shall bring him to the Villa Colobiano.

WILFRID BRUDENELL.

This is the way to the garden.

MRS. STONEHAY.

[_Watching LESLIE and IRENE._] I thought so. We shall not be patronized by Mrs. Renshaw again.

[_WILFRID and MRS. STONEHAY go down the garden steps._]

LESLIE.

But perhaps you will learn to love Lord Dangars. Is he young?

IRENE.

Sufficiently so to escape being taken for my--grandfather.

LESLIE.

Handsome?

IRENE.

There is no accepted standard for man’s beauty.

LESLIE.

Oh, be more serious. Is he a bachelor or a widower?

IRENE.

Neither.

LESLIE.

Neither?

IRENE.

Lord Dangars is a _divorcé_.

LESLIE.

A _divorcé_? At least, then, he deserves your pity.

IRENE.

For what?

LESLIE.

For his sorrow. He must have suffered.

IRENE.

No, it was scarcely Lord Dangars who suffered.

LESLIE.

[_Shrinking from IRENE._] _His wife?_

IRENE.

Yes.

LESLIE.

And you will--marry him! Oh! For shame, Irene!

IRENE.

Leslie!

LESLIE.

I can’t think of it!

IRENE.

Be silent! I have the world upon my side--what is your girl’s voice against the world! I shall have money and a title--I shall have satisfied my mother at last. Why should you make it harder for me by even a word?

LESLIE.

I want to save you from sharing this man’s hideous disgrace.

IRENE.

Oh, the world has a short memory for a man’s disgrace. It is only with women that it lays down scandal, as it lays down wine, to ripen and mature.

LESLIE.

But _you_ will not forget; you will die under the burden of your husband’s past.

IRENE.

I! oh, no! What is a man’s past to the woman who marries him!

LESLIE.

It is her pride or her shame, the jewel she wears upon her brow or the mud which clings to her skirts! It is her light or her darkness; her life or her death!

IRENE.

You’re too young a wife to lecture me like this! The only difference between me and other women will be that Lord Dangars’s story is public and their husband’s vices are unrevealed!

LESLIE.

That is not true! You have no right to defend yourself in that way.

IRENE.

It _is_ true! What woman who doesn’t wish to be lied to would ask her husband to unfold the record of his life of--liberty?

LESLIE.

What woman would----! _I_ would!

IRENE.

Simpleton!

LESLIE.

A thousand times, I would! Oh, under my dear husband’s roof how dare you think so cruelly of good men!

[_She runs to DUNSTAN as he enters dressed for travelling._]

MRS. STONEHAY.

[_Rejoining them with WILFRID._] Irene, we are forgetting our drive to Fiesole.

DUNSTAN RENSHAW.

[_To LESLIE._] What’s the matter? Have I been away too long?

LESLIE.

It is always too long when you are away.

MRS. STONEHAY.

Good-bye, dear Mrs. Renshaw.

LESLIE.

[_Distantly._] Good-bye.

MRS. STONEHAY.

My dear Mr. Renshaw, everything here is too charming!

IRENE.

[_To LESLIE._] Forgive me. My life has made me bitter. Sometimes I am nearly mad.

LESLIE.

Come and see me again, Irene. When you know my husband better you will realize how little your world has taught you. [_LESLIE kisses IRENE._]

MRS. STONEHAY.

Irene, I believe I can see that obstinate young woman sitting down in a vineyard--not a quarter of a mile from this house yet. There is a limit even to my forbearance.

[_WILFRID, MRS. STONEHAY, and IRENE go out. LESLIE gives DUNSTAN a
cup of tea._]

LESLIE.

The stirrup cup.

DUNSTAN RENSHAW.

You will think of me in the toils of the Roman furniture and _bric-à-brac_ dealers, won’t you?

LESLIE.

Think of you!

DUNSTAN RENSHAW.

I shall fight through the worry of it in a couple of days and then--there will be the first home of our own making. Just imagine when we skip up the stone stairs in the Via Sistina and I throw open the door----

LESLIE.

Our own door!

DUNSTAN RENSHAW.

Our own door--and we see our own chairs and tables, our own pictures, our own----

[_He pauses suddenly._]

LESLIE.

Dun! Dun, dear?

DUNSTAN RENSHAW.

This separating, even for a day or two, is a heavy-hearted business.

LESLIE.

It shall always be so, dear, always.

DUNSTAN RENSHAW.

While I’m gone you’ll not forget the lame girl in the Via Vellutini--or Pietro’s old mother----?

LESLIE.

No, dear, no.

DUNSTAN RENSHAW.

And--and double the allowance to those little children we helped yesterday.

LESLIE.

If you wish it; but the father is working here now in our garden----

DUNSTAN RENSHAW.

Never mind--double it, treble it! I don’t spend enough, half enough, in conscience money.

LESLIE.

Conscience money!

DUNSTAN RENSHAW.

That is the name I give my little charities.

LESLIE.

Do you call all charity conscience money?

DUNSTAN RENSHAW.

No. But, Leslie, no man is good enough for a good woman, and so I’m trying to buy my right to possess you----

LESLIE.

To possess _me_! Worthless me!

DUNSTAN RENSHAW.

My right to your love and--your esteem.

LESLIE.

Oh, Dun, you are sad! As if anything in life could rob you of my worship.

DUNSTAN RENSHAW.

Nothing that could happen?

LESLIE.

Husband, what _could_ happen!

[_HUGH MURRAY enters unseen by LESLIE, but DUNSTAN stares at him, as
if in terror._]

DUNSTAN RENSHAW.

Murray!

HUGH MURRAY.

Pardon me. Wilfrid told me to----

LESLIE.

Mr. Murray! Oh, dear Mr. Murray!

[_She takes his hands._]

WILFRID.

[_Joining them._] The very last man we expected at the Villa Colobiano! And, what do you think, Dunstan--he hasn’t come to see the old fresco!

LESLIE.

Dunstan!

[_HUGH and DUNSTAN look significantly at LESLIE, and then shake
hands._]

DUNSTAN RENSHAW.

As Wilfrid says, you are the last man we looked to see in Florence.

LESLIE.

But, oh, so welcome!

HUGH MURRAY.

You must not, I’m sorry to say, consider this the visit of a friend, Mr. Renshaw.

LESLIE.

Have you travelled so many miles to talk only about business?

HUGH MURRAY.

Yes.

LESLIE.

Ah, be a friend first and let the business wait.

HUGH MURRAY.

I leave here to-night, and I must speak to Mr. Renshaw without delay.

DUNSTAN RENSHAW.

I can give you only five minutes. Leslie.

LESLIE.

I shall make a nosegay for my dear, and bring it when the five minutes are gone. [_Tenderly to DUNSTAN._] You have made me forget there is anything in the world called Business.

[_She follows WILFRID down the garden steps. DUNSTAN watches her for
a moment, then faces HUGH._]

DUNSTAN RENSHAW.

Do you come here, may I ask, to take up our acquaintance at the point where it was broken a month ago?

HUGH MURRAY.

I regret that I must do so.

DUNSTAN RENSHAW.

As a friend--or as an enemy?

HUGH MURRAY.

Neither--as a man who feels he has a duty to follow, and who will follow it.

DUNSTAN RENSHAW.

What do you consider your duty?

HUGH MURRAY.

This. There is no need to remind you of my knowledge of the doings of Mr. Lawrence Kenward.

DUNSTAN RENSHAW.

Murray!

HUGH MURRAY.

I did not use your name.

DUNSTAN RENSHAW.

You know the poor creature who--you know her?

HUGH MURRAY.

She came to me, in ignorance of my association with you, on the very day, at the very moment, of your marriage.

DUNSTAN RENSHAW.

What did she want of you?

HUGH MURRAY.

My aid in searching for her betrayer.

DUNSTAN RENSHAW.

Don’t tell me she is the girl whom my wife and her brother encountered at the railway station in London!

HUGH MURRAY.

She is the girl.

DUNSTAN RENSHAW.

That’s fatality--fatality.

HUGH MURRAY.

Before she had been with me ten minutes, I discovered the actual identity of the man Kenward.

DUNSTAN RENSHAW.

Oh!

HUGH MURRAY.

And I deliberately and dishonestly concealed my knowledge from her.

DUNSTAN RENSHAW.

For _my_ sake?

HUGH MURRAY.

No--for the sake of the child you had made your wife.

DUNSTAN RENSHAW.

My wife. Janet Preece can have her revenge now. My wife--my wife.

HUGH MURRAY.

The girl left me on your marriage morning upon the understanding that I would write to her.

DUNSTAN RENSHAW.

Yes.

HUGH MURRAY.

I did write, the day following, to an address she gave me, in the country. I wrote instructing her to take no steps till she heard from me _a month thence_.

DUNSTAN RENSHAW.

That is a month ago!

HUGH MURRAY.

Exactly a month ago.

DUNSTAN RENSHAW.

What do you intend to do now?

HUGH MURRAY.

Write to her once more, confessing that I have done nothing, and intend to do nothing to aid her.

DUNSTAN RENSHAW.

Oh, Murray!

HUGH MURRAY.

Man, don’t thank me! For the sake of one poor creature, your wife, I have been dishonest to another poor creature, your broken plaything! For one month I have lied for you in act and in spirit. In the race between you and your victim I have given the strong man a month’s start; to her a month of suspense, to you a month of thoughtless happiness. You have taken it, enjoyed it, steeped yourself to the lips in it; and now, from this day, you play the game of your life without a confederate. Our paths divide!

DUNSTAN RENSHAW.

Murray! Listen to me! You are the only man who may have it in his power to help me!

HUGH MURRAY.

I have done so--for a month.

DUNSTAN RENSHAW.

I don’t ask you to pity the girl I have ill-used or the girl I have married--that you must do. But, wretch that I am, you might do a greater injustice than to pity me.

HUGH MURRAY.

Pity _you_!

DUNSTAN RENSHAW.

Murray, a month ago I married this child. Perhaps, then, I was really in love with her; I hardly know, for loving had been to me like a tune a man hums for a day and can’t recall a week afterwards. But this I _do_ know--I have grown to love her now with my whole soul!

HUGH MURRAY.

[_Contemptuously._] Oh!

DUNSTAN RENSHAW.

I married her, as it were, in darkness; she seemed to take me by the hand and to lead me out into the light. Murray, the companionship of this pure woman is a revelation of life to me! I tell you there are times when she stands before me that I am like a man dazzled and can scarcely look at her without shading my eyes. But _you_ know--because you read my future--_you_ know what my existence has become! The Past has overtaken me! I am in deadly fear! I dread the visit of a stranger, or the sight of strange handwriting, and in my sleep I dream that I am muttering into her ear the truth against myself! And, oh, Murray, there is one thing more that is the rack to me and yet a delight, a paradise and yet a torment, a curse and yet a blessing, my wife--God help me!--my wife thinks me--Good!

LESLIE.

[_In the garden below._] Dunstan! Dunstan!

HUGH MURRAY.

Your wife! Be quick! Tell me--how can I help you?

DUNSTAN RENSHAW.

Ah, Murray!

HUGH MURRAY.

For her sake--for her sake!

DUNSTAN RENSHAW.

The moment you reach London send for Janet Preece--tell her the truth--entreat her to be silent. Tell her I will do all in my power to atone if she will be but silent--only silent--silent!

LESLIE.

[_From the garden._] Dunstan! The five minutes are gone.

[_LESLIE runs on carrying some flowers. WILFRID follows, leisurely,
smoking a cigarette._]

LESLIE.

Have I come back a minute too soon? [_To DUNSTAN._] You have had bad news; ah, don’t send me away again! You are troubled.

DUNSTAN RENSHAW.

Why, of course I am troubled.

LESLIE.

About nothing worse than leaving me?

DUNSTAN RENSHAW.

Isn’t that bad enough?

LESLIE.

[_Giving him a bunch of flowers._] For you. [_To HUGH._] Is it unbusiness-like to give you a flower?

HUGH MURRAY.

Thank you.

[_WEAVER enters dressed for travelling._]

WEAVER.

The carriage is at the door, sir.

DUNSTAN RENSHAW.

Send it round to the gate. I will walk with Mrs. Renshaw through the garden.

[_WEAVER retires._]

LESLIE.

Wilfrid is here to amuse you, Mr. Murray, if I am poor company. Must you leave us too?

HUGH MURRAY.

Thank you--yes. I turn my face homeward to-night.

DUNSTAN RENSHAW.

I have something more to say to Murray. [_To HUGH._] Will you drive down with me?

[_HUGH assents silently._]

DUNSTAN RENSHAW.

[_Pointing into the distance._] Leslie, when the carriage gets to that little rise stand here and beckon to me till I am out of sight.

LESLIE.

Beckon to you?

DUNSTAN RENSHAW.

Yes, I want to remember it while we are apart as the last sign you made me--beckoning me to return.

[_They go down the steps together._]

HUGH MURRAY.

Wilfrid, don’t ever tell her--your sister--that I asked you this. She is--quite happy?

WILFRID BRUDENELL.

Oh, she’s awfully happy. But, I say, isn’t she a lucky girl?

HUGH MURRAY.

Yes. Why?

WILFRID BRUDENELL.

To have the best fellow in the world for her husband.

HUGH MURRAY.

Look--they’re waiting for me. Good-bye.

WILFRID BRUDENELL.

Good-bye. [_He shakes hands with HUGH, who descends the steps._] No, I sha’n’t assist at Dun’s departure. I’m afraid Les will cry, and I can’t bear to see a girl cry; it makes me feel so dreadfully queer in the chest. Dun is saying good-bye to her now. Oh, well now, she is a brick! She’s rolled her handkerchief into a ball and put it in her pocket. There’s Murray. In he gets! Away they go! Poor Leslie’s head is drooping. Confound it, she’s taking out her handkerchief! I can’t stand it.

[_PRISCILLA enters from the villa, crying._]

PRISCILLA.

Mr. Wilfrid.

WILFRID BRUDENELL.

Well? Oh, now, what are _you_ crying about?

PRISCILLA.

The young person, sir, who was with the two ladies who came to see our cartoon, has been sent back on foot, and she’s downstairs begging for a morsel of water; and, oh, Mr. Wilfrid, the poor thing looks so weak and ill!

WILFRID BRUDENELL.

Ill! Where is she?

[_He goes into the villa, as LESLIE slowly ascends the garden steps.
The serenade is heard again._]

LESLIE.

No, Pietro mustn’t sing to me while he is gone. My home shall never be bright and cheerful when its dear master is away.

WILFRID BRUDENELL.

[_From the house._] Leslie! Leslie!

LESLIE.

Will? [_WILFRID comes from the villa with JANET PREECE, who looks weary and feeble. Taking JANET’S hand._] Oh! Wilfrid!

WILFRID BRUDENELL.

It’s our little friend of the London railway station!

JANET PREECE.

No, no--I am only Mrs. Stonehay’s servant--little better. She has threatened to send me away, because she says I am self-willed and won’t obey her. But I--I can’t walk; I’m not over-strong. What shall I do!

[_She falls back fainting; WILFRID catches her in his arms. LESLIE
kneels beside her, loosening the strings of her bonnet._]

LESLIE.

Oh, poor girl! Why, she is no older than I. Ah, Will, she sha’n’t want a shelter! Priscilla! Priscilla!

WILFRID BRUDENELL.

Priscilla!

LESLIE.

Oh! the carriage! [_She runs quickly to the balustrade and looks out into the distance._] It’s there! [_She beckons thrice._] Dunstan--come back to me! Come back to me!

END OF THE SECOND ACT.

THE THIRD ACT.

THE END OF THE HONEYMOON.

_The scene is still the RENSHAWS’ Florentine villa. JANET PREECE is
lying upon a sofa, and WILFRID is sitting on a footstool by her
side reading to her._

WILFRID BRUDENELL.

Miss Preece, I hope you’re tired of my reading.

JANET PREECE.

Why?

WILFRID BRUDENELL.

Because you’ve heard all that Galignani has to remark.

JANET PREECE.

I’m afraid I haven’t heard much.

WILFRID BRUDENELL.

Not heard much! oh!

JANET PREECE.

Not much of Galignani. I’ve never been read to before, and I only know that your kind voice has been rising and falling and rising and falling, and all for me. I didn’t want to hear the words.

WILFRID BRUDENELL.

By Jove! You’re quite yourself this morning, aren’t you?

JANET PREECE.

No--not myself. I feel so happy. But I am dreadfully puzzled. Tell me--have I been very ill?

WILFRID BRUDENELL.

[_Holding her hand._] Just near enough to brain fever to be able to say “How do you do?” to it and go off in another direction.

JANET PREECE.

Have I been ill long?

WILFRID BRUDENELL.

Long enough to make me--to make us desperately anxious.

JANET PREECE.

How long is that?

WILFRID BRUDENELL.

Three days.

JANET PREECE.

Three days--three days. How strange to have lost three days out of one’s life! I seem to have died and to have come into a beautiful new world.

WILFRID BRUDENELL.

That’s a great compliment to the Villa Colobiano and its mistress.

JANET PREECE.

Ah, she is the Angel of my new world!

WILFRID BRUDENELL.

One angel is very little to do all the work of a beautiful new world.

[_JANET timidly withdraws her hand._]

JANET PREECE.

Oh, she has her brother to help her, of course.

[_LESLIE enters, and JANET embraces her._]

LESLIE.

The post brought me a letter from my dear one--my husband--and I hid myself away to read it.

WILFRID BRUDENELL.

When does Dun start for home, Les?

LESLIE.

I don’t know; this was written the day before yesterday.

JANET PREECE.

Your husband? You--you are married?

LESLIE.

Married! Ah, I forget that my poor invalid knows nothing about her nurse. Let me tell you. I mustn’t blame you for not guessing it; but I am that exceedingly important person, a newly-married lady. I am Mrs. Renshaw.

JANET PREECE.

[_Taking LESLIE’S hand._] Mrs.--Renshaw. I shall say the name to myself over and over again that I may seem to have known you longer. Mrs.--Renshaw.

LESLIE.

Yes, and my husband is in Rome preparing our first real home. You will see him soon--oh, I hope very soon.

JANET PREECE.

I should like to see one who is so precious to you, of course--only----

LESLIE.

Only--what?

JANET PREECE.

Only I know that when your dear companion comes back I shall lose you.

LESLIE.

Hush, hush! You mustn’t distress yourself; you will be ill again.

JANET PREECE.

I would be ill again, gladly, if I could see your face constantly bending over me as I have seen it for the last three days. Oh, Mrs. Renshaw, why have you been so good to me, a stranger?

WILFRID BRUDENELL.

I say, Leslie, aren’t Dun’s letters furious about Mrs. Stonehay’s bad behaviour?

JANET PREECE.

Mrs. Stonehay! I can’t go back to her! Oh, don’t send me back to Mrs. Stonehay! Oh, don’t, please don’t!

LESLIE.

No, dear, no--of course not. [_To WILFRID._] Why, I haven’t written a word to Dun about our little visitor and Mrs. Stonehay’s resentment at our sheltering her. If I had, the dear fellow would have flown home to fight my battles for me, and left his business unfinished. I know Dun.

JANET PREECE.

Mrs. Stonehay’s resentment at your giving me shelter! Oh, why should she be so cruel to me!

LESLIE.

Hush, dear--it is Mrs. Stonehay’s nature to be jealous and arrogant. When she discovered that her dependent, as she called you, was installed here as my friend, she indignantly reproached me for enticing you from her service.

WILFRID BRUDENELL.

I never saw a woman so angry. I had the honour of bowing her out at the front door, and she declared she shook the dust of the Villa Colobiano from her feet; luckily, it was only a figure of speech, for her feet are very large.

[_PRISCILLA enters._]

PRISCILLA.

Miss Stonehay is here, ma’am.

[_PRISCILLA retires._]

JANET PREECE.

Oh, Mrs. Renshaw!

LESLIE.

Don’t be alarmed, Janet. You don’t know that during the last three days the face you have seen bending over you has often been poor Irene’s.

[_IRENE enters, and appears agitated._]

LESLIE.

Irene. You are trembling--there is some trouble?

IRENE.

[_Quietly to LESLIE._] Yes--I’ve come to tell you. Janet, I am glad to see you almost well again. Don’t you believe me?

JANET PREECE.

[_Shrinking from her._] Yes--I--I am better.

IRENE.

Ah, don’t be frightened of me--not of _me_! Janet!

[_JANET looks at IRENE, then goes to her._]

IRENE.

[_Kissing JANET._] Thank you. [_Giving LESLIE a letter._] A letter, Leslie.

LESLIE.

From your mother?

IRENE.

From my mother. Read it.

LESLIE.

[_As she reads._] Oh--oh! Irene, do you guess the drift of this?

IRENE.

Better than you do, Leslie. It is a humble apology from Mrs. Stonehay for her unintentional rudeness upon misunderstanding the motive of Mrs. Renshaw’s extreme kindness to poor Miss Preece.

LESLIE.

Yes, it is an apology.

IRENE.

Followed by an entreaty that Mrs. Renshaw will permit Mrs. Stonehay to call at the Villa Colobiano immediately to make peace in person.

[_WILFRID and JANET go down into the garden._]

LESLIE.

You know the letter almost word for word.

IRENE.

I know my mother better day by day. Leslie, you don’t see what that means?

LESLIE.

That your mother is sorry.

IRENE.

No--it means that she has just heard from Lord Dangars that he is an old and intimate friend of your husband’s, and that they chanced to come together again two days ago in Rome.

LESLIE.

I am grieved to pain you, Irene, but I am sure that my husband can’t be aware of the true character of Lord Dangars.

IRENE.

Possibly not, but my mother sees that Lord Dangars may hear of her conduct through Mr. Renshaw, and is therefore anxious to conciliate you without delay.

LESLIE.

Oh! [_She tears MRS. STONEHAY’S letter into pieces._]

IRENE.

Oh, Leslie, the meanness of my life is crushing me! I can’t be faithful to my mother, and yet I loathe myself for being a traitor to her. I seem to bring a worldly taint even into your home, and yet your home is so sweet and pure to me that I haven’t the courage to shut myself out of it. How you must despise me!

[_WEAVER enters._]

LESLIE.

Weaver!

WEAVER.

I beg your pardon, ma’am; I wasn’t aware you were engaged.

LESLIE.

Why have you left your master in Rome? He is--well?

WEAVER.

Quite, ma’am. I haven’t left the master in Rome; we got back to Florence this morning.

LESLIE.

He is in Florence!

WEAVER.

Master finished his business in Rome a little sooner than he expected, and we made a rush, ma’am, for the night train. Getting in so very early this morning, master thought it best to go to the _Hôtel de la Paix_ for an hour or two.

LESLIE.

Thought it best to go to the _Hôtel de la Paix_! Oh, there must be some reason!

WEAVER.

[_Handing a letter to LESLIE._] The reason is, ma’am, that master is bringing a visitor home with him and didn’t think it right to take you quite unprepared.

LESLIE.

A visitor?

WEAVER.

Yes, ma’am--Lord Dangars.

LESLIE.

Lord Dangars here! Oh! Dunstan, Dunstan!

IRENE.

[_To herself._] So soon--so soon; so short a respite!

[_WILFRID and JANET come up the steps from the garden._]

LESLIE.

[_To herself as she reads the letter._] Ah, I knew it! My poor Dun, to be victimized by such a companionship. I quite understand, Weaver. Mr. Renshaw will be here almost directly?

WEAVER.

He and his lordship were at breakfast when I left, ma’am; in less than half-an-hour, I should say.

LESLIE.

Tell the servants. [_WEAVER goes out._]

IRENE.

Leslie, the thought that you are to be thrown into the society of this man is unendurable to me.

LESLIE.

And yet you are speaking of the man you are going to marry.

IRENE.

Certainly, but by my marriage I hope to lose much of his society. But you--oh, your husband is to blame, to blame!

LESLIE.

Hush, Irene! You do Mr. Renshaw an injustice. Look. [_She hands IRENE DUNSTAN’S letter._] Will, Dun has come back! Janet, be glad for my sake!

IRENE.

[_Reading the letter._] “Dear One. Weaver will explain my mode of arrival. Dangars I once knew fairly well, and somehow he won’t be shaken off now. As there appears to be an engagement between him and your friend Miss Stonehay I have asked him to be our guest for a couple of days, thinking you may consider it a kindness to her; but please don’t extend the term, as he is not quite the man I wish my wife to count among her acquaintances.”

[_JANET and WILFRID stroll away._]

LESLIE.

[_To herself._] My husband home again--home again--home again! But, oh, why hasn’t he come back to me alone!

IRENE.

Leslie, I perceive I _have_ done Mr. Renshaw an injustice. But surely you had some further motive in sharing with me the privilege of enjoying Mr. Renshaw’s estimate of the gentleman who is to be my husband?

LESLIE.

Yes, I had. I _will_ convince you of the contempt in which honest men hold such as Lord Dangars.

IRENE.

[_Crushing the letter in her hand._] Thank you--I---- Leslie! you are right--save me--save me!

LESLIE.

Irene!

IRENE.

I knew that my next meeting with Lord Dangars could not be long delayed, and I taught myself to think of it coldly and callously. But, now that the moment has come, and I am to lay my hand in his and look him in the face--a woman willing to sell herself--every nerve in my body is on fire with the shame of it and I can’t, I can’t fall so utterly!

LESLIE

Dear Irene, I knew I should save you!

IRENE.

Ah, but can you? I am such a coward; I haven’t the courage of your good instincts. If you don’t help me I shall falter and be lost!

LESLIE.

But I can help you. _I_ will make an appeal to your mother.

IRENE.

That’s hopeless, hopeless!

LESLIE.

Then I will face Lord Dangars himself.

IRENE.

You!

LESLIE.

Yes, with my husband. Ah, Irene, there are good men still to fight the battles of weak women, and I promise you my dear husband’s aid.

[_WILFRID and JANET re-appear, talking earnestly._]

IRENE.

Hush!

LESLIE.

[_Quietly to IRENE._] Go back to your mother and tell her I will see her in answer to her letter.

[_LESLIE and IRENE go into the villa._]

JANET PREECE.

[_To WILFRID._] No, no, please, don’t speak to me like that! I mustn’t listen to you, indeed I mustn’t.

WILFRID BRUDENELL.

I never thought I should hurt you by what I’ve said. What I was foolish enough to think was--that perhaps you--didn’t dislike me.

JANET PREECE.

Dislike you! Why, there’s no book in the world that’s long enough, and no poetry ever written that’s sweet enough, to match what I think, but can’t say, in gratitude to you and Mrs. Renshaw.

WILFRID BRUDENELL.

Ah, we don’t want you to thank us, Janet--unless it’s by a tinge of colour in your white face. You make me feel how mean I’ve been to ask for your love.

JANET PREECE.

Oh, stop, stop! I can’t bear you to say such a thing.

WILFRID BRUDENELL.

I’ve no right to press you for the reason you can’t love me.

JANET PREECE.

No, no--don’t, don’t!

WILFRID BRUDENELL.

I can only guess what’s in your mind. Is it that we’re such new friends to talk of love and marriage? Because, Janet, if we know each other for years I can never alter the truth, that it took only a minute to fall in love with you.

JANET PREECE.

No, it isn’t that you’re a new friend; for the matter o’ that, after Mrs. Renshaw, you’re my only friend. It isn’t that--it isn’t that.

WILFRID BRUDENELL.

Then, if we’re your only friends, at least I know that you don’t love any other----

JANET PREECE.

[_Starting up and hiding her face from him._] Any other!

WILFRID BRUDENELL.

Any other--man.

JANET PREECE.

No--no. I don’t--I don’t love any other man.

WILFRID BRUDENELL.

And yet you can’t love _me_. I’m answered. Ah, Janet, a man who isn’t loved had better never seek the reason, or if he does he should look for it--in himself. My brother-in-law will be home in a few minutes and I can very well be spared here. So there’s one thing I beg of you, that you won’t let this--stupidity of mine shorten your stay at the Villa Colobiano.

JANET PREECE.

[_Bursting into tears._] I can’t bear it! My heart will break!

WILFRID BRUDENELL.

You seemed in bitter trouble when we first met; don’t leave us till we have helped to make life easier for you.

JANET PREECE.

Oh, if we never had met--if we never had met!

WILFRID BRUDENELL.

Why, I’ve done nothing but love you, Janet. Come, you’re not cruel enough to wish you had never seen me?

JANET PREECE.

Ah, no! No! Believe me, the only happiness for such as I is in such wretchedness as this. Bid me good-bye--I am going.

WILFRID BRUDENELL.

No!

JANET PREECE.

Let me steal away quietly. Tell your sister that I pray God to bless her, her husband, and her children when they come to make her life perfect; say I am only a poor creature never worth the love I’ve stolen from you both, but that my thoughts will be only of you and her till I die.

WILFRID BRUDENELL.

No, you must not leave the house till you have seen Leslie.

JANET PREECE.

Don’t keep me here! If I see her again I must tell her why I run away from the one sweet prospect my life has given me!

WILFRID BRUDENELL.

You do love me then! You _do_ love me!

[_He draws her to him, but she breaks away with a low cry as LESLIE
enters._]

JANET PREECE.

Let me go! let me go!

LESLIE.

Janet!

JANET PREECE.

[_To LESLIE in a low whisper._] Mrs. Renshaw! You don’t know what a base, wicked girl you are sheltering! I’m not fit to be in your house! Oh, I’ll tell you--I’ll tell you!

WILFRID BRUDENELL.

Leslie, there have been no secrets between us ever, and there’s a promise that there never shall be any.

LESLIE.

Will?

WILFRID BRUDENELL.

I--I have told Janet that I love her, and I have asked her to be my wife. But Janet is in some distress and wishes to leave us. So, Les, I want you to do me a service.

LESLIE.

What service, brother dear?

WILFRID BRUDENELL.

I want you to help her--and me.

[_He leaves them together._]

LESLIE.

Janet! Janet Preece. I love my brother very dearly, and long ago I determined that the moment his heart went out to a good girl I would call her my sister without a murmur. But you have said something to me which has--frightened me. Oh, Janet, what is it that’s wrong--what is it that’s wrong? [_JANET kneels humbly at LESLIE’S feet._] Why do you kneel, Janet?

JANET PREECE.

Because it’s my place in the world for evermore; because I’m of no more worth than the clod of earth you turn aside with your foot; because the time has been when I was one of the tempted and not one of the strong.

LESLIE.

[_Turning away._] Oh, Janet, Janet.

JANET PREECE.

When I found that your brother loved me I wanted to run away without the dreadful shame of confessing the truth to you. But I’m a little happier for having told you, and I’ll go out of your house now quickly and quietly, and you’ll never see me nor hear of me again. [_Kissing the edge of LESLIE’S dress._] Good-bye--my dear. Good-bye, oh my dear, my dear. [_She rises, and is about to go._]

LESLIE.

No, no! Stop! What you have told me seems to have stunned me. I--I can’t realize it yet.

JANET PREECE.

Don’t try to--it’s better you should never realize it.

LESLIE.

A few minutes ago you and I were like simple girls; now we have suddenly become sad grown women. Will--my poor Will! What shall I do?

JANET PREECE.

Nothing but let me go.

LESLIE.

Let you go! You have come into my life now, and your weakness and loneliness make it my task to protect you. Put on your hat--quickly. [_JANET hesitates._] Quickly! Throw that shawl over your shoulders. [_JANET obediently puts on the hat and shawl. LESLIE begins writing hurriedly at the table._] You mustn’t re-enter this house; you and my brother must never meet again. My poor brother! I am going to send you to a friend who will gladly render me a service. This afternoon I will come to you. “The Villa Lotta, Viale dei Colli.” Are you ready?

JANET PREECE.

Yes.

LESLIE.

Present this--and here, here is some money. Come, we will go through the garden.

[_They go together to the garden steps. Suddenly JANET utters a cry
of horror._]

LESLIE.

Janet!

JANET PREECE.

[_Dragging LESLIE from the steps._] Come away--come away! Look there! Look there!

LESLIE.

[_Looking into the garden._] My husband and Lord Dangars.

JANET PREECE.

It’s the man--the man!

LESLIE.

The man! Lord Dangars!

JANET PREECE.

He lied to me; I have never known his true name till now. That’s the man who called himself Lawrence Kenward.

LESLIE.

Great Heavens! They are coming this way into the house.

JANET PREECE.

Ah, hide me, hide me! I haven’t the courage to meet him. Ah, hide me!

[_She staggers to the sofa and sinks down beside it._]

LESLIE.

Janet!

[_LESLIE crouches down by JANET and puts her arms round her
protectingly, as DUNSTAN RENSHAW and LORD DANGARS ascend the
steps._]

LORD DANGARS.

Phew! I’m smothered with dust; you would walk.

DUNSTAN RENSHAW.

I’m very sorry. Shall we restore the perfection of our appearance before looking for Mrs. Renshaw?

[_They go into the villa._]

LESLIE.

Janet! Do you know that this is the man to whom Irene Stonehay is engaged to be married?

JANET PREECE.

I--I’ve heard them speak of him; I never suspected who he was. Heaven pity her! He’ll kill her, body and soul.

LESLIE.

No, no. It is you who must help me to save her.

JANET PREECE.

I!

LESLIE.

You must. If you do your utmost to rescue this weak woman from the dreadful life that is before her you’ll do something to make you happier in the future.

JANET PREECE.

What can I do! I couldn’t shame him.

LESLIE.

But you could shame her mother--you could drive any remaining feeling of irresolution from this poor girl’s mind.

JANET PREECE.

They wouldn’t believe me; why should they?

LESLIE.

Then, if they doubt you, will you face this miserable libertine before their eyes?

JANET PREECE.

Ah, no, no! For months I’ve been seeking him to beg him to make reparation to me, but now that I’ve found him I want to put miles between us, for I feel I’d rather go down to my grave what I am than live what he could make me!

[_PRISCILLA enters._]

PRISCILLA.

Mrs. Stonehay and Miss Stonehay are here, ma’am.

JANET PREECE.

Oh!

LESLIE.

I’ll see them. [_PRISCILLA retires._]

JANET PREECE.

Let me go--give me leave to go.

LESLIE.

You are free to go, Janet--go. But you are going from your duty.

JANET PREECE.

My duty--my duty. If _he_ came to hear of it, would he think a little better of me for it?

LESLIE.

He?

JANET PREECE.

Wilfrid--your brother.

LESLIE.

I think he would.

JANET PREECE.

I’ll stay. I’ll try and do my duty.

[_She sinks upon the sofa as MRS. STONEHAY and IRENE enter. MRS.
STONEHAY advances to LESLIE with outstretched hands._]

MRS. STONEHAY.

My dear Mrs. Renshaw!

LESLIE.

[_Coldly._] Mrs. Stonehay.

MRS. STONEHAY.

Dear child, what can I say to you in reference to our--misunderstanding, shall I call it?

LESLIE.

Say nothing, please, nothing.

MRS. STONEHAY.

We will say nothing. The passing ill-humours of a crochetty but not unamiable old woman are best forgotten. Ah, my dear, remember I am about to lose my daughter. But I have yet to make my peace with our little friend here. You have been indisposed, my poor Janet? Let it be a lesson to you--never mistake firmness for unkindness. Don’t stand, in your weak state. [_JANET sinks back upon the sofa._] I am positively in ecstasies, dear Mrs. Renshaw, to learn that Lord Dangars is to be a guest at the Villa Colobiano.

LESLIE.

To my surprise I find that my husband and this gentleman are acquainted.

MRS. STONEHAY.

Are old and close friends. And you weren’t aware of it! Delightful!

LESLIE.

I say again I am _surprised_.

MRS. STONEHAY.

Naturally. You will like Dangars. He has suffered, poor fellow, but he has come out of the furnace a very refined metal.

LESLIE.

My husband--knowing Lord Dangars, I venture to think, but slightly--has indeed invited him to this house.

MRS. STONEHAY.

Charming! It brings us all so closely together. Will Lord Dangars, may I ask, remain with you very long?

LESLIE.

No.

MRS. STONEHAY.

No?

LESLIE.

Because, Mrs. Stonehay, I cannot, I regret to say, consent to receive Lord Dangars.

MRS. STONEHAY.

I confess I don’t understand. Your husband’s friend----

LESLIE.

No, Mrs. Stonehay; my husband has only to know Lord Dangars as thoroughly as I do to consider him an unfit companion for any reputable man or woman.

MRS. STONEHAY.

Do you forget that you are speaking of one who is to be my daughter’s husband? Irene! are you dumb?

[_LESLIE turns to IRENE, who is sitting with her head bowed and her
hands clasped._]

LESLIE.

Irene! Irene!

[_IRENE rises, supporting herself by the table._]

IRENE.

Mother--don’t ask me to marry Lord Dangars! Oh, don’t make me do that--don’t make me do that!

MRS. STONEHAY.

Oh, I see--I quite see. [_To LESLIE._] How dare you tamper with my daughter--how dare you? [_To IRENE._] We will go home. You shall never enter this house again; our acquaintance with this lady has terminated.

LESLIE.

Irene!

MRS. STONEHAY.

What! Do you think by your mock-morality to upset my calculations for Irene’s welfare? If so, you can have this satisfaction for your pains--that one word, one look, from me will do more with this weak, ungrateful girl than a month of your impudent meddling. Good morning.

[_MRS. STONEHAY and IRENE are going._]

LESLIE.

Irene!

IRENE.

I--I told you I was a coward. Good-bye.

LESLIE.

Oh, Irene!

IRENE.

You have done your utmost to save me----!

LESLIE.

No! I have not yet done my utmost. Janet! Janet!

[_JANET rises from the sofa with an effort, and LESLIE takes her by
the hand._]

LESLIE.

Look here! This poor child is a living sacrifice to a man whose history is a horrible chapter of dishonour. He is a man who preys upon the weak under the mask of a false name; who stabs but has not the mercy to kill; and who leaves his victims to bleed to death in their hearts, slowly but surely.

MRS. STONEHAY.

I always feared this was a worthless girl. But pray, what has her depravity to do with us?

LESLIE.

Only this. Janet has just discovered the whereabouts of the man she has been seeking.

MRS. STONEHAY.

Really this is no concern of ours.

LESLIE.

There you are mistaken, Mrs. Stonehay.

MRS. STONEHAY.

Mistaken?

LESLIE.

Yes. Because, if this man were willing to atone to Janet Preece by marrying her, he could not fulfil his engagement to your daughter.

IRENE.

Oh!

MRS. STONEHAY.

This is an infamous fabrication!

LESLIE.

[_To JANET._] Is it the truth?

JANET PREECE.

It is--the truth.

[_JANET sinks back upon the sofa burying her face in the pillows._]

IRENE.

Oh, Leslie!

MRS. STONEHAY.

A girl of that character lives upon her lying romances, and the woman who harbours such a creature becomes a partner and not a protector. [_To IRENE._] Come--do you hear me!

IRENE.

No, no! Leslie!

LESLIE.

Dunstan!

[_DUNSTAN RENSHAW and LORD DANGARS enter._]

DUNSTAN RENSHAW.

[_Tenderly._] Leslie. [_He bows to MRS. STONEHAY and IRENE._] Leslie, dear, let me introduce Lord Dangars to you. [_JANET raises her head with a startled look of horror._]

LORD DANGARS.

[_Offering his hand._] Mrs. Renshaw, I----

LESLIE.

No, Dunstan; forgive me--I cannot make the acquaintance of Lord Dangars.

DUNSTAN RENSHAW.

[_In an undertone._] Leslie!

LESLIE.

If Lord Dangars wishes for an explanation, Dunstan, I have only to recall to him the existence of this unhappy girl whose story is known to me.

[_She reveals JANET._]

JANET PREECE.

No, no!

LESLIE.

Janet Preece.

[_DUNSTAN stares at JANET helplessly and horror-stricken._]

LORD DANGARS.

I should not be so impolite as to disturb Mrs. Renshaw’s prejudices against me were they founded upon less illusory evidence. But I can assure Mrs. Renshaw that I believe I have never seen this young lady until the present moment.

[_LESLIE looks aghast at JANET._]

MRS. STONEHAY.

Janet, do _you_ say you know Lord Dangars?

JANET PREECE.

No, no! It’s not he I know! It is a mistake--I----

MRS. STONEHAY.

A mistake!

JANET PREECE.

Ah! Let me go! let me go!

[_LESLIE grasps her by the arm._]

MRS. STONEHAY.

Girl, do you mean that you know _Mr. Renshaw_?

[_DANGARS and LESLIE turn to DUNSTAN, who is staring blankly before
him with his hands clenched._]

LESLIE.

Janet! Janet! [_As the truth dawns upon her._] Oh!

JANET PREECE.

Ah! What have I done to you! I’d have died to save you this. God forgive me! I’m not fit to live! Kill me! Kill me! Ah!

[_She rushes down the garden steps, past LESLIE, who is as one turned
to stone._]

MRS. STONEHAY.

Lord Dangars, may I trespass upon your good nature so far as to beg your escort home? Poor Irene is naturally much distressed.

LORD DANGARS.

[_Looking from DUNSTAN to LESLIE._] This is perhaps not the time to express regrets----

MRS. STONEHAY.

Regrets! Regrets that the character of an honourable man is cleared from a gross and vindictive slander! It is not from _us_ that regrets should come. I am ready.

IRENE.

[_Weeping._] Leslie--Leslie! [_She takes LESLIE’S hand and kisses it. LESLIE stands, with staring eyes, immovable._]

MRS. STONEHAY.

Irene, give your arm to Lord Dangars.

[_IRENE gives her arm helplessly to DANGARS. MRS. STONEHAY shrugs her
shoulders and goes out, followed by DANGARS with IRENE._]

DUNSTAN RENSHAW.

[_In a hollow, changed voice._] Leslie--Leslie! [_He staggers towards her._] You hate me--you hate me. [_He looks into her face._] How you hate me!

LESLIE.

[_Speaking with great effort._] Deny it--deny it.

DUNSTAN RENSHAW.

Deny it!

LESLIE.

Deny it.

DUNSTAN RENSHAW.

I--I--Ah, God! I’m guilty! I’m guilty! I’m guilty! Don’t ask me to tell you the story of my life--I can’t--I can’t. It’s one of sin--all sin. Till I met you--till I met you. Can you hear me?

[_She nods her head twice, still with the wild dazed look in her
face._]

DUNSTAN RENSHAW.

Then everything altered. I love you--I love you! In all the world there is nothing for me but you--you make my day or my night by the opening or the closing of your eyes. There is nothing for me but you! I worship you!

[_The man is heard again singing to the mandolin. LESLIE shudders and
tries to go._]

DUNSTAN RENSHAW.

Don’t leave me! You won’t leave me! I can’t live away from you. Have mercy on me! Have mercy on me! Mercy! [_He kneels to her._] I repent! Help me to begin a new life! I’m young; I won’t die till I’ve made amends. I won’t die till I’ve done some good act to make you proud of me! Oh, give me hope!

LESLIE.

[_As if in a dream._] Deny it!

DUNSTAN RENSHAW.

I’m guilty--you know it! Have mercy! Give me a faint hope! A year hence you’ll pardon me? Two years--ten? A little hope--only a little hope!

LESLIE.

Deny it.

DUNSTAN RENSHAW.

I can’t deny it!

LESLIE.

Go!

[_After a moment he goes quietly away, then she falls to the ground
in a swoon. The voice of the singer rises in the distance._]

END OF THE THIRD ACT.

THE FOURTH ACT.

THE BEGINNING OF A NEW LIFE.

_The scene is HUGH MURRAY’S private sitting-room in an old-fashioned
Holborn hotel, comfortably and solidly furnished, but with an
antiquated look about the place. It is evening, the lamps are
lighted and the fire is burning. HUGH is playing a plaintive melody
upon the piano, and watching LESLIE, who sits with a listless air._

LESLIE.

Mr. Murray.

HUGH MURRAY.

Yes?

LESLIE.

Wilfrid is very late.