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

us last night, dear? Paula A bit of Schubert. Would you like to hear it again? Lady Orreyed You don’t know any comic songs, do you? Paula I’m afraid not. Lady Orreyed I leave it to you, then. Paula plays. Aubrey and Cayley Drummle appear outside the window; they look into the room. Aubrey To Drummle. You can see her face in that mirror. Poor girl, how ill and wretched she looks. Drummle When are the Orreyeds going? Aubrey Heaven knows! Entering the room. Drummle But you’re entertaining them; what’s it to do with Heaven? Following Aubrey. Aubrey Do you know, Cayley, that even the Orreyeds serve a useful purpose? My wife actually speaks to me before our guests⁠—think of that! I’ve come to rejoice at the presence of the Orreyeds! Drummle I daresay; we’re taught that beetles are sent for a benign end. Aubrey Cayley, talk to Paula again tonight. Drummle Certainly, if I get the chance. Aubrey Let’s contrive it. George is asleep; perhaps I can get that doll out of the way. As they advance into the room, Paula abruptly ceases playing and finds interest in a volume of music. Sir George is now nodding and snoring apoplectically. Lady Orreyed, whenever you feel inclined for a game of billiards I’m at your service. Lady Orreyed Jumping up. Charmed, I’m sure! I really thought you’d forgotten poor little me. Oh, look at Dodo! Aubrey No, no, don’t wake him; he’s tired. Lady Orreyed I must, he looks so plain. Rousing Sir George. Dodo! Dodo! Sir George Stupidly. ’Ullo! Lady Orreyed Dodo, dear, you were snoring. Sir George Oh, I say, you could ’a told me that by-and-by. Aubrey You want a cigar, George; come into the billiard room. Giving his arm to Lady Orreyed. Cayley, bring Paula. Aubrey and Lady Orreyed go out. Sir George Rising. Hey, what! billiard room! Looking at his watch. How goes the⁠—? Phew! ’Ullo, ’Ullo! Whisky and potass! He goes rapidly after Aubrey and Lady Orreyed. Paula resumes playing. Paula After a pause. Don’t moon about after me, Cayley; follow the others. Drummle Thanks, by-and-by. Sitting. That’s pretty. Paula After another pause, still playing. I wish you wouldn’t stare so. Drummle Was I staring? I’m sorry. She plays a little longer, then stops suddenly, rises, and goes to the window, where she stands looking out. Drummle moves from the ottoman to the settee. A lovely night. Paula Startled. Oh! Without turning to him. Why do you hop about like a monkey? Drummle Hot rooms play the deuce with the nerves. Now, it would have done you good to have walked in the garden with us after dinner and made merry. Why didn’t you? Paula You know why. Drummle Ah, you’re thinking of the⁠—difference between you and Aubrey? Paula Yes, I am thinking of it. Drummle Well, so am I. How long⁠—? Paula Getting on for three weeks. Drummle Bless me, it must be! And this would have been such a night to have healed it! Moonlight, the stars, the scent of flowers; and yet enough darkness to enable a kind woman to rest her hand for an instant on the arm of a good fellow who loves her. Ah, ha! it’s a wonderful power, dear Mrs. Aubrey, the power of an offended woman! Only realise it! Just that one touch⁠—the mere tips of her fingers⁠—and, for herself and another, she changes the colour of the whole world! Paula Turning to him, calmly. Cayley, my dear man, you talk exactly like a very romantic old lady. She leaves the window and sits playing with the knickknacks on the table. Drummle To himself. H’m, that hasn’t done it! Well⁠—ha, ha!⁠—I accept the suggestion. An old woman, eh? Paula Oh, I didn’t intend⁠— Drummle But why not? I’ve every qualification⁠—well, almost. And I confess it would have given this withered bosom a throb of grandmotherly satisfaction if I could have seen you and Aubrey at peace before I take my leave tomorrow. Paula Tomorrow, Cayley! Drummle I must. Paula Oh, this house is becoming unendurable. Drummle You’re very kind. But you’ve got the Orreyeds. Paula Fiercely. The Orreyeds! I⁠—I hate the Orreyeds! I lie awake at night, hating them! Drummle Pardon me, I’ve understood that their visit is, in some degree, owing to⁠—hem!⁠—your suggestion. Paula Heavens! that doesn’t make me like them better. Somehow or another, I⁠—I’ve outgrown these people. This woman⁠—I used to think her “jolly!”⁠—sickens me. I can’t breathe when she’s near me: the whiff of her handkerchief turns me faint! And she patronises me by the hour, until I⁠—I feel my nails growing longer with every word she speaks! Drummle My dear lady, why on earth don’t you say all this to Aubrey? Paula Oh, I’ve been such an utter fool, Cayley! Drummle Soothingly. Well, well, mention it to Aubrey! Paula No, no, you don’t understand. What do you think I’ve done? Drummle Done! What, since you invited the Orreyeds? Paula Yes; I must tell you⁠— Drummle Perhaps you’d better not. Paula Look here. I’ve intercepted some letters from Mrs. Cortelyon and Ellean to⁠—him. Producing three unopened letters from the bodice of her dress. There are the accursed things! From Paris⁠—two from the Cortelyon woman, the other from Ellean! Drummle But why⁠—why? Paula I don’t know. Yes, I do! I saw letters coming from Ellean to her father; not a line to me⁠—not a line. And one morning it happened I was downstairs before he was, and I spied this one lying with his heap on the breakfast-table, and I slipped it into my pocket⁠—out of malice, Cayley, pure devilry! And a day or two afterwards I met Elwes the postman at the Lodge, and took the letters from him, and found these others amongst ’em. I felt simply fiendish when I saw them⁠—fiendish! Returning the letters to her bodice. And now I carry them about with me, and they’re scorching me like a mustard plaster! Drummle Oh, this accounts for Aubrey not hearing from Paris lately! Paula That’s an ingenious conclusion to arrive at! Of course it does! With an hysterical laugh. Ha, ha!