The Notorious Mrs. Ebbsmith - LightNovelsOnl.com
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AMOS. The Duke did--guessed we had taken her.
GERTRUDE. What did they say to that?
AMOS. The Baronet asked me whether I was the chaplain of a Home for [angrily]--ah!
GERTRUDE. Brute! And then?
AMOS. Then they suggested that I ought hardly to leave them to make the necessary explanation to their relative, Mr. Lucas Cleeve.
GERTRUDE. Yes--well?
AMOS. I replied that I fervently hoped I should never set eyes on their relative again.
GERTRUDE [Gleefully.] Ha!
AMOS. But that Mrs. Ebbsmith had left a letter behind her at the Palazzo Arconati, addressed to that gentleman, which I presume contained so full an explanation as he could desire.
GERTRUDE. Oh, Amos--!
AMOS. Eh?
GERTRUDE. You're mistaken there, dear; there was no letter.
AMOS. No letter--?
GERTRUDE. Simply four shakily-written words.
AMOS. Only four words!
GERTRUDE. "My--hour-is-over."
[HEPHZIBAH enters with a card on a little tray. GERTRUDE reads the card and utters an exclamation.]
GERTRUDE. [Taking the card and speaking under her breath.] Amos! [He goes to her; they stare at the card together.]
AMOS. [To HEPHZIBAH.] Certainly! [HEPHZIBAH goes out, then returns with the DUKE OF ST. OLPHERTS, and retires. ST. OLPHERTS bows graciously to GERTRUDE and more formally to AMOS.]
AMOS. Pray, sit down. [ST. OLPHERTS seats himself on the settee.]
ST. OLPHERTS. Oh, my dear sir!--If I may use such an expression in your presence--here is the devil to pay!
AMOS. [To ST. OLPHERTS.] You don't mind my pipe. [ST. OLPHERTS waves a hand pleasantly.] And I don't mind your expression--[sitting by the table]--the devil to pay?
ST. OLPHERTS. This, I daresay well intentioned, interference of yours has brought about some very unpleasant results. Mr. Cleeve returns to the Palazzo Arconati and find that Mrs. Ebbsmith has flown.
AMOS. That result, at least, was inevitable.
ST. OLPHERTS. Whereupon he hurries back to the Danieli and denounces us all for a set of conspirators.
AMOS. Your Grace doesn't complain of the injustice of that charge?
ST. OLPHERTS. [Smilingly.] No, no, I don't complain. But the brother-- the wife! Just when they imagined they had bagged the truant--there's the sting!
GERTRUDE. Oh, then Mr. Cleeve now refuses to carry out his part of the shameful arrangement?
ST. OLPHERTS. Absolutely. [Rising, taking a chair, and placing it by the settee.] Come into this, dear Mrs. Thorn--!
AMOS. Thorpe.
ST. OLPHERTS. Come into this! [Sitting again.] You understand the sort of man we have to deal with in Mr. Cleeve.
GERTRUDE. [Sitting.] A man who prizes a woman when he has lost her.
ST. OLPHERTS. Precisely.
GERTRUDE. Men don't relish, I suppose, being cast off by women.
ST. OLPHERTS. It's an inversion of the picturesque; the male abandoned is not a pathetic figure. At any rate, our poor Lucas is now raving fidelity to Mrs. Ebbsmith.
GERTRUDE. [Indignantly.] Ah--!
ST. OLPHERTS. If you please, he cannot, will not, exist without her.
Reputation, fame, fortune are nothing weighed against--Mrs. Ebbsmith.
And we may go to perdition, so that he recovers--Mrs. Ebbsmith.
AMOS. Well--to be plain--you're not asking us to sympathise with Mrs.
Cleeve and her brother-in-law over their defeat?
ST. OLPHERTS. Certainly not. All I ask, Mr. Winterfield, is that you will raise no obstacle to a meeting between Mr. Cleeve and--and--
GERTRUDE. No!
[ST. OLPHERTS signifies a.s.sent; GERTRUDE makes a movement.]
ST. OLPHERTS. [To her.] Don't go.
AMOS. The object of such a meeting?
ST. OLPHERTS. Mrs. Cleeve desires to make a direct, personal appeal to Mrs. Ebbsmith.
GERTRUDE. Oh, what kind of woman can this Mrs. Cleeve be?
ST. OLPHERTS. A woman of character, who sets herself to accomplish a certain task--
GERTRUDE. Character!
AMOS. Hush, Gerty!
ST. OLPHERTS. And who gathers her skirts tightly around her and tip-toes gently into the mire.
