The Second Mrs. Tanqueray by Arthur W. Pinero (top 100 novels TXT) 📕

The Second Mrs. Tanqueray

By Arthur W. Pinero.

Table of Contents Titlepage Imprint The Persons of the Play The Second Mrs. Tanqueray Act I Act II Act III Act IV Colophon Uncopyright Imprint

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The Persons of the Play

Aubrey Tanqueray

Paula

Ellean

Cayley Drummle

Mrs. Cortelyon

Captain Hugh Ardale

Gordon Jayne, M.D.

Frank Misquith, Q.C., M.P.

Sir George Orreyed, Bart.

Lady Orreyed

Morse

The Present Day.

The Scene of the First Act is laid at Mr. Tanqueray’s rooms, No. 2x, The Albany, in the month of November; the occurrences of the succeeding Acts take place at his house, Highercoombe, near Willowmere, Surrey, during the early part of the following year.

The Second Mrs. Tanqueray Act I

Aubrey Tanqueray’s Chambers in the Albany⁠—a richly and tastefully decorated room, elegantly and luxuriously furnished: on the right a large pair of doors opening into another room, on the left at the further end of the room a small door leading to a bedchamber. A circular table is laid for a dinner for four persons which has now reached the stage of dessert and coffee. Everything in the apartment suggests wealth and refinement. The fire is burning brightly.

Aubrey Tanqueray, Misquith, and Jayne are seated at the dinner table. Aubrey is forty-two, handsome, winning in manner, his speech and bearing retaining some of the qualities of young-manhood. Misquith is about forty-seven, genial and portly. Jayne is a year or two Misquith’s senior; soft-speaking and precise⁠—in appearance a type of the prosperous town physician. Morse, Aubrey’s servant, places a little cabinet of cigars and the spirit-lamp on the table beside Aubrey, and goes out. Misquith Aubrey, it is a pleasant yet dreadful fact to contemplate, but it’s nearly fifteen years since I first dined with you. You lodged in Piccadilly in those days, over a hat-shop. Jayne, I met you at that dinner, and Cayley Drummle. Jayne Yes, yes. What a pity it is that Cayley isn’t here tonight. Aubrey Confound the old gossip! His empty chair has been staring us in the face all through dinner. I ought to have told Morse to take it away. Misquith Odd, his sending no excuse. Aubrey I’ll walk round to his lodgings later on and ask after him. Misquith I’ll go with you. Jayne So will I. Aubrey Opening the cigar-cabinet. Doctor, it’s useless to tempt you, I know. Frank⁠—Misquith and Aubrey smoke. I particularly wished Cayley Drummle to be one of us tonight. You two fellows and Cayley are my closest, my best friends⁠— Misquith My dear Aubrey! Jayne I rejoice to hear you say so. Aubrey And I wanted to see the three of you round this table. You can’t guess the reason. Misquith You desired to give us a most excellent dinner. Jayne Obviously. Aubrey Hesitatingly. Well⁠—I⁠—Glancing at the clock⁠—Cayley won’t turn up now. Jayne H’m, hardly. Aubrey Then you two shall hear it. Doctor, Frank, this is the last time we are to meet in these rooms. Jayne The last time? Misquith You’re going to leave the Albany? Aubrey Yes. You’ve heard me speak of a house I built in the country years ago, haven’t you? Misquith In Surrey. Aubrey Well, when my wife died I cleared out of that house and let it. I think of trying the place again. Misquith But you’ll go raving mad if ever you find yourself down there alone. Aubrey Ah, but I shan’t be alone, and that’s what I wanted to tell you. I’m going to be married. Jayne Going to be married? Misquith Married? Aubrey Yes⁠—tomorrow. Jayne Tomorrow? Misquith You take my breath away! My dear fellow, I⁠—I⁠—of course, I congratulate you. Jayne And⁠—and so do I⁠—heartily. Aubrey Thanks⁠—thanks. There is a moment or two of embarrassment. Misquith Er⁠—ah⁠—this is an excellent cigar. Jayne Ah⁠—um⁠—your coffee is remarkable. Aubrey Look here; I daresay you two old friends think this treatment very strange, very unkind. So I want you to understand me. You know a marriage often cools friendships. What’s the usual course of things? A man’s engagement is given out, he is congratulated, complimented upon his choice; the church is filled with troops of friends, and he goes away happily to a chorus of good wishes. He comes back, sets up house in town or country, and thinks to resume the old associations, the old companionships. My dear Frank, my dear good doctor, it’s very seldom that it can be done. Generally, a worm has begun to eat its way into those hearty, unreserved, prenuptial friendships; a damnable constraint sets in and acts like a wasting disease; and so, believe me, in nine cases out of ten a man’s marriage severs for him more close ties than it forms. Misquith Well, my dear Aubrey, I earnestly hope⁠— Aubrey I know what you’re going to say, Frank. I hope so, too. In the meantime let’s face dangers. I’ve reminded you of the usual course of things, but my marriage isn’t even the conventional sort of marriage likely to satisfy society. Now, Cayley’s a bachelor, but you two men have wives. By the by, my love