The Notorious Mrs. Ebbsmith Part 14

AGNES. [Mockingly.] Really? You are sure you are not shy of being seen with a notorious woman?

ST. OLPHERTS. My dear Mrs. Ebbsmith--!

AGNES. No, I forget--that would be unlike you. Mad people scare you, perhaps?

ST. OLPHERTS. Ha, ha! Don't be too rough.

AGNES. Come, Duke, confess--isn't there more sanity in me than you suspected?

ST. OLPHERTS. [In a low voice, eyeing her.] Much more. I think you are very clever.

[LUCAS quietly re-enters the room; he halts upon seeing that ST.

OLPHERTS still lingers.]

ST. OLPHERTS. [With a wave of the hand to LUCAS.] Just off, dear fellow. [He offers his hand to AGNES; she quickly places hers behind her back.] You--you are charming. [He walks to the door, then looks round at the pair.] Au'voir! [ST. OLPHERTS goes out.]

AGNES. Au'voir! [Her hand drooping suddenly, her voice hard and dull.]

You had better take me to Fulici's before we dine, and buy me some gloves.

LUCAS. [Coming to her, and seizing her hand.] Agnes dear!

AGNES. [Releasing herself and sitting with a heavy, almost sullen, look upon her face.] Are you satisfied?

LUCAS. [By her side.] You have delighted me! How sweet you look--

AGNES. Ah--!

LUCAS. You shall have twenty new gowns now; you shall see the women envying you, the men envying me. Ah, ha! Fifty new gowns! You will wear them?

AGNES. Yes.

LUCAS. Why, what has brought about this change in you?

AGNES. What!

LUCAS. What?

AGNES. I know.

LUCAS. You know?

AGNES. Exactly how you regard me.

LUCAS. I don't understand you.

AGNES. Listen. Long ago, in Florence, I began to suspect that we had made a mistake, Lucas. Even there I began to suspect that your nature was not one to allow you to go through life sternly, severely, looking upon me more and more each day as a fellow worker and less and less as --a woman. I suspected this--oh, proved it!--but still made myself believe that this companions.h.i.+p of ours would gradually become, in a sense, colder--more temperate, more impa.s.sive. [Beating her brow.]

Never! never! Oh, a few minutes ago this man, who means to part us if he can, drew your character, disposition, in a dozen words.

LUCAS. You believe him! You credit what he says of me!

AGNES. I declared it to be untrue. Oh, but--

LUCAS. But--but--

AGNES. [Rising, seizing his arm.] The picture he paints of you is not wholly a false one. Sss.h.!.+ Lucas. Hark! Attend to me! I resign myself to it all! Dear, I must resign myself to it!

LUCAS. Resign yourself? Has life with me become so distasteful?

AGNES. Has it? Think! Why, when I realised the actual terms of our companions.h.i.+p--why didn't I go on my own way stoically? Why don't I go at this very moment?

LUCAS. You really love me, do you mean--as simple, tender women are content to love? [She looks at him, nods slowly, then turns away and droops over the table. He raises her, and takes her in his arms.] My dear girl! My dear, cold, warm-hearted girl! Ha! You couldn't bear to see me packed up in one of the Duke's travelling boxes and borne back to London--eh! [She shakes her head; her lips form the word "No".] No fear of that, my--my sweetheart!

AGNES. [Gently pus.h.i.+ng him from her.] Quick--dress--take me out.

LUCAS. You are s.h.i.+vering--get your thickest wrap.

AGNES. That heavy brown cloak of mine?

LUCAS. Yes.

AGNES. It's an old friend, but--dreadfully shabby. You will be ashamed of me again.

LUCAS. Ashamed--!

AGNES. I'll write to Bardini about a new one tomorrow. I won't oppose you--I won't repel you any more.

LUCAS. Repel me! I only urged you to reveal yourself as what you are-- a beautiful woman.

AGNES. Ah! Am I--that?

LUCAS. [Kissing her.] Beautiful--beautiful!

AGNES. [With a gesture of abandonment.] I'm--glad. [She leaves him and goes out. He looks after her for a moment thoughtfully, then suddenly pa.s.ses his hands across his brow and opens his arms widely as if casting a burden from him.]

LUCAS. Oh!--oh! [Turning away alertly.] Fortune--

END OF THE SECOND ACT

THE THIRD ACT

[The Scene is the same as before, but it is evening, and the lamps are lighted within the room, while outside it is bright moonlight.]

[AGNES, dressed as at the end of the preceding Act, is lying upon the settee propped up by pillows. A pretty silk shawl, with which she plays restlessly, is over her shoulders. Her face is pale, but her eyes glitter, and her voice has a bright ring in it. KIRKE is seated at a table writing. GERTRUDE, without hat or mantle, is standing behind the settee, looking down smilingly upon AGNES.]