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

epub:type="z3998:persona">Drummle Well, well! Laughing. Ha, ha, ha! Paula Turning upon him. I suppose it is amusing! Drummle I beg pardon. Paula Heaven knows I’ve little enough to brag about! I’m a bad lot, but not in mean tricks of this sort. In all my life this is the most caddish thing I’ve done. How am I to get rid of these letters⁠—that’s what I want to know? How am I to get rid of them? Drummle If I were you I should take Aubrey aside and put them into his hands as soon as possible. Paula What! and tell him to his face that I⁠—! No, thank you. I suppose you wouldn’t like to⁠— Drummle No, no; I won’t touch ’em! Paula And you call yourself my friend? Drummle Good-humouredly. No, I don’t! Paula Perhaps I’ll tie them together and give them to his man in the morning. Drummle That won’t avoid an explanation. Paula Recklessly. Oh, then he must miss them⁠— Drummle And trace them. Paula Throwing herself upon the ottoman. I don’t care! Drummle I know you don’t; but let me send him to you now, may I? Paula Now! What do you think a woman’s made of? I couldn’t stand it, Cayley. I haven’t slept for nights; and last night there was thunder, too! I believe I’ve got the horrors. Drummle Taking the little hand-mirror from the table. You’ll sleep well enough when you deliver those letters. Come, come, Mrs. Aubrey⁠—a good night’s rest! Holding the mirror before her face. It’s quite time. She looks at herself for a moment, then snatches the mirror from him. Paula You brute, Cayley, to show me that! Drummle Then⁠—may I? Be guided by a fr⁠—a poor old woman! May I? Paula You’ll kill me, amongst you! Drummle What do you say? Paula After a pause. Very well. He nods his head and goes out rapidly. She looks after him for a moment, and calls “Cayley! Cayley!” Then she again produces the letters, deliberately, one by one, fingering them with aversion. Suddenly she starts, turning her head towards the door. Ah! Aubrey enters quickly. Aubrey Paula! Paula Handing him the letters, her face averted. There! He examines the letters, puzzled, and looks at her inquiringly. They are many days old. I stole them, I suppose to make you anxious and unhappy. He looks at the letters again, then lays them aside on the table. Aubrey Gently. Paula, dear, it doesn’t matter. Paula After a short pause. Why⁠—why do you take it like this? Aubrey What did you expect? Paula Oh, but I suppose silent reproaches are really the severest. And then, naturally, you are itching to open your letters. She crosses the room as if to go. Aubrey Paula! She pauses. Surely, surely it’s all over now? Paula All over! Mockingly. Has my stepdaughter returned then? When did she arrive? I haven’t heard of it! Aubrey You can be very cruel. Paula That word’s always on a man’s lips; he uses it if his soup’s cold. With another movement as if to go. Need we⁠— Aubrey I know I’ve wounded you, Paula. But isn’t there any way out of this? Paula When does Ellean return? Tomorrow? Next week? Aubrey Wearily. Oh! Why should we grudge Ellean the little pleasure she is likely to find in Paris and in London. Paula I grudge her nothing, if that’s a hit at me. But with that woman⁠—! Aubrey It must be that woman or another. You know that at present we are unable to give Ellean the opportunity of⁠—of⁠— Paula Of mixing with respectable people. Aubrey The opportunity of gaining friends, experience, ordinary knowledge of the world. If you are interested in Ellean, can’t you see how useful Mrs. Cortelyon’s good offices are? Paula May I put one question? At the end of the London season, when Mrs. Cortelyon has done with Ellean, is it quite understood that the girl comes back to us? Aubrey is silent. Is it? Is it? Aubrey Let us wait till the end of the season⁠— Paula Oh! I knew it. You’re only fooling me; you put me off with any trash. I believe you’ve sent Ellean away, not for the reasons you give, but because you don’t consider me a decent companion for her, because you’re afraid she might get a little of her innocence rubbed off in my company? Come, isn’t that the truth? Be honest! Isn’t that it? Aubrey Yes. There is a moment’s silence on both sides. Paula With uplifted hands as if to strike him. Oh! Aubrey Taking her by the wrists. Sit down. Sit down. He puts her into a chair; she shakes herself free with a cry. Now listen to me. Fond as you are, Paula, of harking back to your past, there’s one chapter of it you always let alone. I’ve never asked you to speak of it; you’ve never offered to speak of it. I mean the chapter that relates to the time when you were⁠—like Ellean. She attempts to rise; he restrains her. No, no. Paula I don’t choose to talk about that time. I won’t satisfy your curiosity. Aubrey My dear Paula, I have no curiosity⁠—I know what you were at Ellean’s age. I’ll tell you. You hadn’t a thought that wasn’t a wholesome one, you hadn’t an impulse that didn’t tend towards good, you never harboured a notion you couldn’t have gossiped about to a parcel of children. She makes another effort to rise: he lays his hand lightly on her shoulder. And this was a very few years back⁠—there are days now when you look like a schoolgirl⁠—but think of the difference between the two Paulas. You’ll have to think hard, because after a cruel life one’s perceptions grow a thick skin. But, for God’s sake, do think till you get these two images clearly in your mind, and then ask yourself what sort of a friend such a woman as you are today would have been for the girl of seven or eight years ago. Paula Rising. How dare you? I could be almost as good a friend to Ellean