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

don’t let your thoughts run on such things! Paula Laughing. Ha, ha, how scared you look! There, think of the time! Dearest, what will my coachman say! My cloak! She runs off, gaily, by the upper door. Aubrey looks after her for a moment, then he walks up to the fire and stands warming his feet at the bars. As he does so he raises his head and observes the letters upon the mantelpiece. He takes one down quickly. Aubrey Ah! Ellean! Opening the letter and reading. “My dear father⁠—A great change has come over me. I believe my mother in Heaven has spoken to me, and counselled me to turn to you in your loneliness. At any rate, your words have reached my heart, and I no longer feel fitted for this solemn life. I am ready to take my place by you. Dear father, will you receive me?⁠—Ellean.” Paula re-enters, dressed in a handsome cloak. He stares at her as if he hardly realised her presence. Paula What are you staring at? Don’t you admire my cloak? Aubrey Yes. Paula Couldn’t you wait till I’d gone before reading your letters? Aubrey Putting the letter away. I beg your pardon. Paula Take me downstairs to the carriage. Slipping her arm through his. How I tease you! Tomorrow! I’m so happy! They go out. Act II

A morning-room in Aubrey Tanqueray’s house, “Highercoombe,” near Willowmere, Surrey⁠—a bright and prettily furnished apartment of irregular shape, with double doors opening into a small hall at the back, another door on the left, and a large recessed window through which is obtained a view of extensive grounds. Everything about the room is charming and graceful. The fire is burning in the grate, and a small table is tastefully laid for breakfast. It is a morning in early Spring, and the sun is streaming in through the window.

Aubrey and Paula are seated at breakfast, and Aubrey is silently reading his letters. Two servants, a man and a woman, hand dishes and then retire. After a little while Aubrey puts his letters aside and looks across to the window. Aubrey Sunshine! Spring! Paula Glancing at the clock. Exactly six minutes. Aubrey Six minutes? Paula Six minutes, Aubrey dear, since you made your last remark. Aubrey I beg your pardon; I was reading my letters. Have you seen Ellean this morning? Paula Coldly. Your last observation but one was about Ellean. Aubrey Dearest, what shall I talk about? Paula Ellean breakfasted two hours ago, Morgan tells me, and then went out walking with her dog. Aubrey She wraps up warmly, I hope; this sunshine is deceptive. Paula I ran about the lawn last night, after dinner, in satin shoes. Were you anxious about me? Aubrey Certainly. Paula Melting. Really? Aubrey You make me wretchedly anxious; you delight in doing incautious things. You are incurable. Paula Ah, what a beast I am! Going to him and kissing him, then glancing at the letters by his side. A letter from Cayley? Aubrey He is staying very near here, with Mrs.⁠—Very near here. Paula With the lady whose chimneys we have the honour of contemplating from our windows? Aubrey With Mrs. Cortelyon⁠—yes. Paula Mrs. Cortelyon! The woman who might have set the example of calling on me when we first threw out roots in this deadly-lively soil! Deuce take Mrs. Cortelyon! Aubrey Hush! my dear girl! Paula Returning to her seat. Oh, I know she’s an old acquaintance of yours⁠—and of the first Mrs. Tanqueray. And she joins the rest of ’em in slapping the second Mrs. Tanqueray in the face. However, I have my revenge⁠—she’s six-and-forty, and I wish nothing worse to happen to any woman. Aubrey Well, she’s going to town, Cayley says here, and his visit’s at an end. He’s coming over this morning to call on you. Shall we ask him to transfer himself to us? Do say yes. Paula Yes. Aubrey Gladly. Ah, ha! old Cayley! Paula Coldly. He’ll amuse you. Aubrey And you too. Paula Because you find a companion, shall I be boisterously hilarious? Aubrey Come, come! He talks London, and you know you like that. Paula London! London or Heaven! which is farther from me! Aubrey Paula! Paula Oh! Oh, I am so bored, Aubrey! Aubrey Gathering up his letters and going to her, leaning over her shoulder. Baby, what can I do for you? Paula I suppose, nothing. You have done all you can for me. Aubrey What do you mean? Paula You have married me. He walks away from her thoughtfully, to the writing-table. As he places his letters on the table he sees an addressed letter, stamped for the post, lying on the blotting-book; he picks it up. Aubrey In an altered tone. You’ve been writing this morning before breakfast? Paula Looking at him quickly, then away again. Er⁠—that letter. Aubrey With the letter in his hand. To Lady Orreyed. Why? Paula Why not? Mabel’s an old friend of mine. Aubrey Are you⁠—corresponding? Paula I heard from her yesterday. They’ve just returned from the Riviera. She seems happy. Aubrey Sarcastically. That’s good news. Paula Why are you always so cutting about Mabel? She’s a kindhearted girl. Everything’s altered; she even thinks of letting her hair go back to brown. She’s Lady Orreyed. She’s married to George. What’s the matter with her? Aubrey Turning away. Oh! Paula You drive me mad sometimes with the tone you take about things! Great goodness, if you come to that, George Orreyed’s wife isn’t a bit worse than yours! He faces her suddenly. I suppose I needn’t have made that observation. Aubrey No, there was scarcely a necessity. He throws the letter on to the table, and takes up the newspaper. Paula I am very sorry. Aubrey All right, dear. Paula Trifling with the letter. I⁠—I’d better tell you what I’ve written. I meant to do so, of course. I⁠—I’ve asked the Orreyeds to come and stay with us. He looks at her and lets the paper fall to the ground in a helpless way. George was a great friend of Cayley’s; I’m sure he would be delighted to meet