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

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 dogcart. 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,