1 ^ ^-i^- '■ .V ..^ ."A '■' ■t - *,> ,» CORNELL UNIVERSITY LIBRARY Joseph Whitmore Barry dramatic library THE GIFT OF TWO FRIENDS OF Cornell University 1934 CORNELL UNIVERSITY LIBRARY 3 1924 075 369 151 Cornell University Library The original of tliis book is in tine Cornell University Library. There are no known copyright restrictions in the United States on the use of the text. http://www.archive.org/details/cu31924075369151 THE TIMES A. W. PINERO^S PLAYS. PLEASE READ CAREFULLY. The acting rights of the following plays have been reserved by the author. Performance is strictly forbidden unless the express consent of the author's agents has first been obtained; and attention is called to the penalties provided by law for the infringement of his rights, as follows ; " Sec. 4966 : Any person publicly performing or representing any dramatic or musical composition, for which copyright has been ob- tained, without the consent of the proprietor of said dramatic or musical composition, or his heirs or assigns, shall be liable for dam- ages therefor, such damages in all cases to be assessed at such sum, not less than one hundred dollars for the first and fifty dollars for every subsequent performance, as to the court shall appear to be just. If the unlawful performance and representation be wilful and for profit, such person or persons shall be guilty of a misdemeanor, and upon conviction be imprisoned for a period not exceeding one year." — U. S. Revised Statutes, Tiih 60, CAap. 3. Permission to perform these plays privately and by amateur players may be obtained from the publishers on payment, in advance, of a royalty of $10.00 for each performance. Persons wishing to present them professionally and for a number of per- formances should apply to Mr. Dan'l Frohman, Lyceum Theatre, New York, for such permission and for terms. The Anuuons. The Notorioiis Mrs. Ebbsmitb. Tlie Cabinet Minister. The Profligate. Dandy Dick. Tbe Schoolmistress. The Hobby Horse. The Second Mrs. Tanqueray. Lady BountSfuL Sweet Lavender. The Magistrate. The Times. The Weaker Sex. Any 0/ thg above sent, post paid, on receipt of price (50 cbnts bach) hy BAKER, 5 HAMILTON PLACE, BOSTON. THE TIMES A COMEDY IN FOUR ACTS BY AETHUR W. PINERO " I don't aspire to great things, but I -wisli to speak of great things with gratitude and of mean things with indignation " BOSTON WALTEE H. BAKER & CO. 1902 Copvri6ht, 1892^ BY ARTHUR W. PINERO. [A// rights reserved^ THE PEESONS OF THE PLAY Percy Egbeton-Bompas, M.P. Mbs. Egerton-Bompas. Howard, their son. Beryl, ilieir daughter. Countess of Eipstow. Denham, Viscottnt Lurgashall, her son. Hon. Montague Trimble. Timothy McShane, M.P. Mrs. Hooley. HONORIA, her daughter. Miss Cazalbt. Lucy Tuck. Jelf. Il^TEODUCTOET NOTE I HAVE long hoped that the time would arrive when an English dramatist might find himself free to put into the hands of the public the text of his play simultaneously with its representation upon the stage. Interesting as might be the publication of a play subsequent to its withdrawal from the boards of a theatre, it has seemed to m.e that the interest would be considerably enhanced if the play could be read at the moment when it first solicited the attention of the play- goer, the consideration of the critic. Such a course, I have felt, were it adopted as a custom, might dignify at once the calling of the actor, the craft of the playwright. It would, by documentary evidence, when the play was found to pos- sess some literary value, enable the manager to defend his judgment, while it would always apportion fairly to actor and author their just shares of credit or of blame. It would also offer conclusive testimony as to the condition of theatrical work in this country. viii INTRODUCTOBY NOTE It will hardly be denied that there exists in certain places the impression that an English play is a hap-hazard con- coction of the author, the actor, and the manager ; that the ■manuscript of a drama, could it ever be dragged, soiled and dog-eared, from the prompter's shelf, would reveal itself as a dissolute-looking, formless thing, meixilessly scarred by the managerial bluepencil and illuminated by those innumer- able interpolations with which the desperate actors have helped to lift the poor material into temporary, unhealthy popularity. The publication of plays concurrently with their stage-production, in the exact shape, save for the ex- cision of technical stage-directions, in which they have left the author's hands, can hardly fail, therefm-e, to be of smne value to the English theatre at large. The recent readjust- ment of the laws of International Copyright at length ena- bles me to offer a booh of the play to the public, aftei- the method which I believe to be most serviceable to the theatre — a method which I trust may be pursued by some of my brother playwrights. It chances that the first work which I find myself able to present under these altered conditions is one which in its design is a comic play — which essays to touch with a hand INTBODUGTOBT NOTE ix not too heavy some of the surface faults and follies of the hour. It lays hare no horrid social wound, it wrangles over no vital problem of inextricable perplexity. If an un- sightly cicatrice appears to be momentarily exposed, it will be found upon examination to be comparatively the merest freckle ; if any question be raised, it is only the old, often- asked question — Can the depths be sounded of ignwance, of vulgarity of mind, of vanity, and of self-seeking ? At this particular moment in the struggling existence of our drama, a playwright ought perhaps to offer an apology for a work which he entreats may be considered unpreten- tious. Yet, even at a time when the bent of the dramatic taste is, we are assured, deliberately severe, there may be some to whom the spectacle of the mimic castigation of the lighter faults of humanity may prove entertaining — nay, more, to certain simple minds, instructive. There m,ay be still those who consider that the follies, even the vices, of the age may be chastised as effectually by a sounding blow from the hollow bladder of the jester as by the fierce application of the knout ; that a moral need not invariably be enforced with the sententioitsness of the sermon or the assertiveness of the tract. To such, if they exist, the satirist need only X INTBODUCrORY NOTE express a hope that his satire may not he found too blunt, the moral of his story too trite, the exposition too trivial, the jest too stale. ARTHUR W. PINERO. London, October, 1891. THE TIMES THE FIRST ACT The, scene represents a richly -decorated and sumptu- ously-furnished room in the London house of Mk. Egebton-Bompas, M.P. It is prettily divided by three arches resting on elegant pillars, and wealth and luxury are evident in all the appointments of the room, which looks bright- and cheerful in the afternoon light of early summer. The door opens, and Jelf, a manservant in livery, introduces Lady Kipstow, an aristocratic-looking woman of about fifty, and her son Denham, Lord Ldegashau,, a young man of twenty-seven, with a determined manner. Denham. Lady Bipstow and Lord LurgashalL Jelf. I'm aware, m'lord. Lady Ripstow. I think Mrs. Egerton-Bompas will see me. 3 THE T1ME8 Jelf. I'm sure she will, m'lady, if she's at home. Lady Eipstow. She is not at home this afternoon, I know, but she may be indoors. Jelf. I'll ask Codrington, m'lady. Lady Eipstow. Codrington ? Jelf. My mistress's maid's woman, m'lady. [He. goes out.l Lady Eipstow. " My mistress's maid's woman ! " The wives of drapers have their comforts, Denham. Denham. My dear mother ! Lady Eipstow. Is not Mr. Bompas a draper ? Denham. Mr. Bgerton-Bompas Lady Eipstow. Egerton ! Denham. Mr. Egerton- Bompas is a draper, in a large sense. Lady Eipstow. He baa a dozen shops all in a row, you mean. THE TIMES 3 Denham. Fourteen, as a matter of fact. Lady Ripstow. Surely that makes him fourteen times a draper. Denham. At any rate, Beryl is not a draper. Lady Eipstow. She is a draper's daughter. If she becomes your ■wife she will still be a draper's daughter ; if chil dren are born to you they will be a draper's daugh- ter's children. Denham. They will be amiable and beautiful, like Beryl. Lady Ripstow. But not perfectly patrician, like yourself. To cull an illustration from the drapery business Denham. Pray, mother ! Lady Ripstow. Beryl is cotton, you are silk ; each material in it- self is estimable, but cotton and silk beget satinet. Did you see your father this morning ? Denham. Yes, in bed. Lady Ripstow. Will he countenance your engagement by calling here? Denham. He will think it over. 4 THE TIMES Lady Ripstow. Was he very distressed at your account of Beryl's parents ? Denham. Acutely, I admit. Lady Ripstow. Of course you made him aware that Mr. Bompas sits for the northern division of St. Swithiu's ? Denham. Of course. Lady Ripstow. That afforded him no relief? Denham. Not perceptibly. Lady Ripstow. You emphasised — on the Conservative side of the House ? Denham. Yes. But my father's theory is that a common man's profession of Conservative principles is mere- ly a device to rub shoulders with superior people. Lady Ripstow. Theodore is penetrating. Denham. And he anticipates that every Conservative politi- cian who has any respect for himself will soon be driven to extreme Radicalism to find decent com- panionship. THE TIMES 5 Lady Ripstow. Your father will never call here, Denham ! Denham. So be it, mother. Lady Ripstow. And you are^ determined to make Beryl an offer of marriage ? Denham. Oh, quite. [Beryl, a sweet, unaffected girl of about twenty, enters the room, attended try Jelf, and greets Lady Ripstow and Denham ivith a pleasant frankness of manner.'] Beryl. [Addressing Lady Ripstow.] Victor, the hair- dresser, has been washing mamma's head. Would you like to come upstairs ? Lady Ripstow. If I may. Beeyl. [To Denham.] Excuse me. Lady Ripstow. [Quietly to Beryl.] Lurgashall wishes to talk to you, I know. Let the servant show me the way. Beryl. Jelf [Lady Ripstow goes from the room with Jbxf in attendance, leaving Beryl and Denham together.] b THE TIMES Behyl. I have been answering invitations for mamma — look ! What a wearisome affair is a Season, isn't it ? Denham. A Season ? Bekyl. I don't mean either of the four seasons sent by Heaven ; I mean the fifth, made by Man. Denham. The one Season honoured by a capital letter. Beryl. And called the Season. Ugh ! Denham. I know you care very little for gaiety. Beryl. The gaiety of climbing a flight of stairs to clutch at a haggard hostess on the landing ! Do sit ; we both have to tread a great many stairs to-night, I expect. Denham. Are you going to Lady Orillian's. by any chance ? Beryl. No, we don't know her — I mean, of course, she doesn't know us. This js our lot. YReading from a tablet.'] The Horace Bennetts', the Stratfields', Mrs. Peter Cathew's, Music at the Verulam Club, the Spratt-Thompsons'. Lighter than I thought. Shall we pass you on any of those stairs ? TEE TIMES 7 Denham. I shall be at Mrs. Cathew's about eleven. Beryl. A trifle early for us. Denham. Early? Beryl. H'm. We used to go very early to sucli places and stay right through, but, now that papa has " got on," we arrive late everywhere and murmur an apology ! Denham. Ha, ha ! Beryl. Ab, don't laugh ! If you realised as I do the sham, the falseness, of this sort of thing you wouldn't, j'ou couldn't laugh — you'd cry. And one's life seems to be made up of parade and pretension — and some- times I feel it is more than I can Ah ! Forgive my complaining to you. Denham. You forget I am as hemmed in as yourself — bound by conventionalism, fettered by fashion. Beryl. You could revolt. Denham. I might rush away to shoot big game in America. That would not be declaring independence of char- acter, that would be escaping from declaring it. Beryl. Are you sure you have an independent character to declare ? 8 THE TIMES Denham. At least I desire to behave as an individual ; at present I am a phonograph rolled up in a coat. I don't aspire to great things, but I wish to speak of great things with gratitude and of mean things with indignation. Bekyl. It is good of you even to talk like this. And, mind, if you ever break away, I'll pray for an adven- turer. Denham. You may begin to-day then. Bekyl. Why? Denham. I am just about to break away. Beryl. What are you going to do ? Denham. Entreat to be allowed to pay my addresses to you. Beryl. [In a murmur. ] Oh ! Denham. Now you guess the object of my mother's visit this afternoon. Beryl. We — we are in different worlds. Denham. Let us come out of our little worlds and meet each other. THE TIMES 9 Beeyl. But I — I am — nothing. Denham. Ah, I have watched you, I know you— jou are an individual. Consent to marry me, and you confer upon me the gift of individuality. Answer me. Beryl. Lord liwrgashall ! Denham. {Holding out his hand.] My dear Beryl, Beryl. \_Laying her hand in his.'] Denham ! [Percy Egbrton - Bompas, a florid, good - humoured- looking v>an of about fifty, with an air of great prosperity, but with an uneasy, assertive manner, enters the room together with the Hon. Montague Trimble, a pleasant- looking, bland little man, of uncertain age, scrupulously trimmed and tailored.] Bompas. Clara, here's Monty. [Demonstratively.] Hallo, Lurgashall, delighted to see you ! [Denham shakes hands with Bompas, and ex- changes nods with Trimble.] Denham. How are you, Trimble ? Trimble, How are you, my dear L.? 10 THE TIMES BoMPAS. {To Denham.] I thought my wife was here ; but Berry will give you a cup of tea. We're always in to friends like you, if we are in. But, lord bless you, when we're not entertaining we live in other people's houses. — they won't let us alone ! [Takivg up cards of invitation from the table.'] I'll be bound these are invites. What did I say? Look here— /lere they come ! " Mrs. Bulmershe " — nice woman ! " La Comtesse de Faverot " — a Countess — French, but still ! " Mrs. Claud Cox " — oh, stockbrokers ! that's nothing. Here! " Lady Prestwick ! " What d'ye think of that ? " Lady Prestwick, At Home, Grosvenor Gate." Do you go there, eh, do you go there ? Denham. Lady Prestwick is my aunt. BOMPAS. Aunt, is she ? Ah, then we shall meet you. [Lay- ing his hand on Denham's shoulder.] It's nice for us all to be in the same set. "Music, 10 o'clock." I don't suppose we shall be there for more than a min- ute ; too many of these things. [Beading the card to himself] "Lady Prestwick, At Home, Grosvenor Gate ! " Lady Prestwick ! Denham. [Quietly to Bompas.] My mother is upstairs. BOMPAS. Lady Ripstow ! With my wife ? Ought I to go up — ought I to go up ? THE TIMES 11 Denham. No, no, don't trouble. The question will be re- ferred to you by-and-by. BOMPAS. What question ? Denham. "Whether you will sanction an engagement between Beryl and myself. BoMPAS. You — you in love with — our Berry ? Denham. Yes. BoMPAS . You— you ! Shall I tell her— shall I tell her ? Denham. Sssh, please ! I've done that myself. [Bompas cannot speak from excitement, but he grasps Denham's hand as Mrs. Egebton-Bompas, a bright, excitable, good - looking woman of forty, enters with Lady Eipstow.] Mes. Bompas. [Breathlessly, to Denham.] Have you asked her ? Denham. Yes. Mrs. Bompas. Is it— all right ? Denham. Beryl has been good enough not to discourage me. 12 THE TIMES Mrs. Bompas. My dear boy ! I — I can't help it ! \_She kisses him.] Denham. [Smiling.] Thank you. [He joins his mother, Bebyl, and Tbimblb, who are chatting together in a group. Bompas. [Trembling with excitement, to Mes. Bompas.] Calm yourself, calm yourself ! Don't let them think we're honoured ! Mes. Bompas. Oh, Percy ! Bompas. Quiet, Clara ! Tell Trimble to spread it about. [She joins the rest] Bompas. [To himself.] I'll drop a line to the Morning Post. The Times doesn't put things in when I send 'em. [Picking up a card of invitation.] " Mrs. Claud Cox, At Home." Wish she may get us ! [He tears up the card and throws it into the waste- paper basket. Lady Ripstow approaches the table at which Bompas has sat down to write.] Bompas. [Writing.] "Mr. Percy Egertou-Boinpas presents his compliments to the Editor of the Morning Post "[seeing Lady Ripstow.] Eh ? I beg your pardon — it's Lady Ripstow, isn't it ? [Shaking hands with her heartily.] How's Lord Ripstow ? He and I will see more of each other now, I dare say. THE TIMES 13 Lady Eipstow. Have you met Lord Ripstow ? BOMPAS. Well — no — that is, I may have met him and passed him. Clara ! We must fix a night for a little family dinner — no outsiders — just the family. Myself, Clara, Beryl, Howard — our boj', you know — Howard will run up from Oxford ; that's four Egerton - Bompases. One Denham is five — two Eipstows are seven Lady Ripstow. Ah ! I — I think we will defer any arrangement of this kind till Lord Ripstow — has called. Mrs. Bompas. Of course, Percy. Lady Ripstow. And now, if you will allow me BoMPAS What was I going to say ? Oh, this is a big thing for Denham's future. Lady Ripstow. I — I trust so. Bompas. A father in the House of Commons as well as one in the Lords ; both fathers of the same way of think- ing too, both hard-and-fast Unionists, both staunch Conservatives — the only political faith for an English gentleman. Mes. Bompas. Percy ! 14r THE TIMES BOMPAS. [To Lady Eipstow.J Don't you see ? As I've only one boy — and a good, clever boy he is, thank God ! — I can keep an eye on your chick as well as my own. Lady Ripstow. Thank you — I — I have to call in Mereworth Square ; I am coming back for Lurgashall. [She passes Bompas mid speaks a word to Mrs. BoMPAS.] Bompas. [Resuming his seat and ivriting.] " and begs to inform him that a marriage has been ar- ranged " [Lady Eipstow leaves the room.] Mrs. Bompas. Take Lady Ripstow downstairs. What are you thinking about ? Bompas. [Bising.] Eh ? [He runs out after Lady Ripstow. — Trimble, leaving Beryl and Denham together, advan- ces effusively to Mas. Bompas. J Trimble. Dear Mrs. Egerton-Bompas ! Mrs. Bompas. Oh, Monty ! Trimble. You are very proud — h'm ? Mrs. Bompas. Yes, I am proud. Now, now what will my old THE TIMES 15 school-fellow, Emily Spratt-Thompson, have to say? Oh, Monty, nothing on earth shall prevent my going to church next Sunday morning ! Trimble. Lei me see ; I think 7 — h'm ? Mrs. Bompas. Yes, you brought him to my third reception last season. Bless you ! [Beryl and Dsnham. go from the room together.] Trimble. [Mournfully.] H'aah ! Mrs. Bompas. What are you so glum about ? Trimble. Why, dear Mrs. Egerton-Bompas, I suppose I ex- perience that mixed sensation of pain and pleasure which the nurse feels when the infant she has taught to toddle wriggles its little fist out of her hand, and scampers off unassisted. Mrs. Bompas. You mean that now Berry is to make this tre- mendous marriage, we shall be able to run alone in Society ? Trimble. I am unselfish enough to hope so, dear Mrs. Egerton-Bompas. Mrs. Bompas. But we're not likely to forget your little services, Monty. 16 THE TIMES Trimble. No, no — you're too amiable for that. But I antici- pate that your poor friend will not be quite so — so indispensable in the future, h'm ? Mrs. Bompas. Perhaps not, in the sense you mean. Trimble. In point of fact, dear Mrs. Egerton-Bompas, the devoted nurse forfeits her place and her perquisites, and the thriftless, improvident old woman — if I may so allude to myself — dooced well can't afford it. Mrs. Bompas. Nonsense ! Doesn't your brother — doesn't Lord Morphett do something for you ? Trimble. Dear Morphett pays the allowance I am compelled to make my wife — that's all. But as for the neces- saries of life, I pledge you my word, there was a moment last September when the question of my giving up my little box in Scotland was really- mooted. However, I was fortunate enough to get you and Egerton-Bompas some pleasant introduc- tions at Homburg, and the dear liberal fellow Mrs. Bompas. Yes, yes — never mind that. Trimble. But now — Mrs. Bompas. Sssh ! I'll tell Percy to be always very kind to you. THE TIMES 17 Trimble. Dear soul ! Mes. Bompas. I can't sit still, Monty ! \She moves restlessly about the room.^ Tbimble. I came here this afternoon to give yon what I hoped would prove a piece of good news. Mes. Bompas. There's no more good news in the world ! Teimble. No, not now. Mks. Bompas. Well, what is it? Teimble. The Maharaja of Shikapoor has at last fixed a night to dine here. Mks. Bompas. "What ! you've got him ? Trimble. After shockin' difficulties. Mrs. Bompas. Oh, bless you, bless you, dear man ! Now, now, Emily Spratt-Thompson, what will you have to say ? [Bompas returns.} Mrs. Bompas. Percy, that nigger has consented to dine with us ! 18 THE TIME^ BOMPAS. The Maharaja . Mrs. Bompas. Yes. Bompas. No! Has he? When? Trimble. The 20th. Bompas. Ours is the first private house this great Indian potentate will have dined at. Tbimblb. Certainly. Mrs. Bompas. Hah ! triumph ! Trimble. Led by some association of ideas, he has hitherto persisted in going every night to the Empire. Mrs. Bompas. Percy, it must be a brilliant occasion. Bompas. By Jove, yes ! Monty ! Trimble. Command me, dear E.-B. Now, whom will you have to meet the great man — your friends ? Bompas. Friends ? Mrs. Bompas. Friends ? Bompas. You see, one can always have friends. THE TIMES 19 Teimble. But you want to let your friends see you've got the Maharaja. BOMPAS. No, no, no — they'll read about it in the papers. Mrs. Bompas. I should like the best people in London. Trimble. The best we can get. BoMPAS. Clara, we will make this the dinner to which we ask the Ripstows — Lord and Lady Eipstow. We'll show them, hey ? We'll let them see, shall we ? Mrs. Bompas. But you told Lady Eipstow that their dinner was to be a family dinner. Bompas. [Quietly to her.] Yes, but I've been thinking — they might expect to meet my relations. Thimble. I've already roughed out a few suggestions. Bompas. Good! Mrs. Bompas. Monty is so useful. Trimble. \_Consulting his memoranda.] Now, there's old Lord Hipgrave — 20 THE TIMES Mrs. Bompas. Lord Hipgrave ! Bompas. Lord Hipgrave ! Phew ! Trimble. I can get him. Bompas. I shall be happy to welcome Lord Hipgrave to my house. Trimble. He's not in demand just now, and will eat a good dinner anywhere. But he's still a great name, dear Mrs. E.-B. Mrs. Bompas. Tremendous ! Trimble. I feel bound to tell you that he feeds in rather a coarse way Mrs. Bompas. Disgusting ! Bompas. Sssh ! he's a great name ! Trimble. [^Reading from his notes.] And he begs that — oh, here it is — he begs that a dinner may not be held to constitute acquaintanceship. Bompas. Infernal impudence ! Mrs. Bompas. The brutes that dine at my table ! THE TIMES 21 BOMPAS. However, he's a great name. Well ! Trimble. Sir Charles Farmiloe will come with Algy Fitz- bray. BoMPAS. Excellent Trimble. Just for fun, is the way they put it. Mrs. Bompas. Cads! Trimble. They are mere boys, you know, and never open their lips. Then there's Charley Spreckly — he will whip the thing up. Bompas. By Jove, rather ! Mrs. Bompas. Oh ! He tells all these inimitable stories ; they're in everybody's mouth. Trimble. Well, everybody's inimitable stories are in Ms mouth — same thing. He's the best raconteur in society. Bompas. [7b Mrs. Bompas.] Knew we should get him some day. Trimble. But I ought to let you know, dear E.-B., that Spreckly asks five-aud-twenty guineas. 22 THE TIMES Mrs. Bompas. "What Bompas. From every house he goes to ? Trimble. Prom some houses he goes to. It is kept abso- lutely quiet, of course ; if such a thing got about, he might as well go ou the stage at once. Mrs. Bompas. Five-and-twenty ! Trimble. Yes, and you don't get his nevo stories for that. Bompas. Pay him thirty — -this must be a perfect dinner. Mrs. Bompas. Now, the women. Trimble. That's always a little difficulty, h'm ! You wouldn't care for a cheerful but perfectly lady-like actress ? Mrs. Bompas. \B,e'proachfully^ My dear Monty ! Trimble. I beg pardon. Mrs. Bompas. Eeally, I would much rather ask my own personal friends. ' THE TIMES 23 Trimble. Have you your Visiting List handy ? \She gives him a book from the table.] Trimble. I daresay there are some good people here you don't know. I'll run through it in the next room ; it may give my brain a fillip. [He goes out. Jelp enters.] Jelf. Carriage is at the door, sir. [Jelf withdraws.] Mrs. Bompas. Going down to the House, Percy ? Bompas. Yes, dear. [They sit cosily together, and she arranges a flower in his buttonhole.] Bompas. May I drive you anywhere ? Mrs. Bompas. No, thanks. I've asked Miss Cazalet to pop in. Bompas. Kate Cazalet, the novelist? Mrs. Bompas. Yes. I hear she's become the proprietress of a struggling little daily newspaper — the Morning 24 THE TIMES BOMPAS. Never heard of it — won't live. A woman, too ! Mrs. Bompas. Isn't it ridiculous ! Still, one may get one's gowns decently described ; so I thought a cup of tea in a friendly, informal way BoMPAS. Very good-natured of you, I'm sure. Give her my best wishes. Mks. Bompas. [Laying her hand upon his arm as he is going.] Percy, dear, are they beginning to make you feel more at home in the House ? BoMPAS. Well ! Mrs. Bompas. I wonder, darling, if your manner strikes them as being a little too — a little too pushing. Bompas. I shouldn't be surprised. But, you see, it's the only manner I've got. Mrs. Bompas. I know, deal', I know. Bompas. And it comes natural to me. And if I don't push, Clara, I feel, somehow, that I'm not "in it." Mrs Bompas. But you are "in it,'' Percy. We're wealthy, with a town house and a country one, with horses, car- THE TIMES 25 riages, servants, and twice as much of everything as we need. You should remind j'ourself of this constantly. BOMPAS. I do, I do, every minute of the day. I believe I'm sensitive, Clara. Mes. Bompas. About what ? Bompas. Perhaps it's— the business. Mrs. Bompas. The business will soon Ije a Company — " Bompas's Limited," and you the Chairman. Bompas. Ah, but I've walked tlie shop a good deal in my time and — it's the same with a man that's been to sea — that tells its own tale. The other night I was bustling across the Members' lobby, in my own energetic way, you know, and I heard a voice near me saying, "What price, blankets?" Mrs. Bompas. Infamous ! Bompas. Of course it proceeded from an Irish member, but still Mrs. Bompas. Not Mr. McShane agnin ? Bompas. Yes, that little beast, McShane. And then, in- gratitude hurts me. I've been in the House a couple 26 THE TIMES of months, and what's the one question on which my opinion has been sought, the one point I've been consulted upon ? Mes. Bompas. Yes, yes, you've told me. Bompas. The quality of the table-linen in the dining-room. Hah ! However, wait ! wait ! Mks. Bompas. Bless you. Bompas. Well, good-bye, old lady. Mes. Bompas. \PaUing her arms round his neck.] Good-bj'e, poor old man. \_Brushing a tear away.'\ After all — we're very lucky, aren't we ? Bompas. Rather — and deserve to be. [Mks. Bompas sits at the table, humming a song happily.'] Bompas. Oh, I want my copy of the Labour Bill — it's in the library. [Jelf enters quietly, and approaches Bompas. They speak together, unheard by Mrs. Bompas.] Jelf. [In a whisperi\ Sir. Bompas. What is it? TEE TIMES 27 Jelf. [Looking towards Mes. Bompas.] Hush, please, sir ! Mr. Howard's come home. Bompas. Mr. Howard ! Jelf. I'm afraid everything's not quite right, sir — he cried when he saw me. Bompas. Where is he ? Jelf. In the library, sir — with some ladies. Bompas. With some — out of the way ! [Bompas goes out hurriedly, followed by Jelf. Beeyl and Denham come into the room.'\ Mks. Bompas. Well, darlings? Beeyl. Lord Lurgashall asked me to show him Rich- mond's portrait of myself, mamma. Mes. Bompas. Bless her ! And did you notice HoU's picture of Mr. Egerton-Bompas, in the dining-room ? Denham. Oh, yes. 28 THE TIMES Mes. Bompas. Doesn't it speak ! We intend bequeathing it to the Carlton Club. [77ie door opens.^ Jelt. [Announcing.'] Miss Cazalet — Miss Tuck. [Jelf shows in Miss Cazalet, a vivacious, hand- some, well-preserved and richly -attired woman of about seven-and thirty, and Lucy, a pale, sad- loohing girl, wearing spectacles, and almost shab- bily dressed.] Mrs. Bompas. [Kissing Miss Cazalet. J So good of you to come ! Miss Cazalet. What a charming house you have ! [To Beryl.] How are you, dear ? Mrs. Bompas. Do you know Lord Lurgashall ? Miss Cazalet. By his likeness to his papa, not otherwise. [Denham bows formally.] Lucy dear. [To Mrs. Bompas.] I so want to introduce my little niece, Lucy Tuck. Mrs. Bompas. [To Lncy,] How do you do ? TEE TIMES 29 Miss Cazaiet. Poor Lucy has broken down wof ully at Newnham. Her feminine intellect has drawn the line at Latin Prose, and left her rubbing menthol into her brows from morning till night. Mes. Bompas. Dear child ! Beeyl. [Sympathetically.] Oh, mamma ! Miss Cazalet. [To Beeyl.] You girls are nearly of the same age — do tell her there is something in the world besides a First Class in the Classical Tripos. Bekyl. [To LucY.J And have you a bad head this after- noon ? Lucy. Oh, yes. Beeyl. When did it come on? Lucy. The year before last. Beeyl. The year before last ? Lucy. It isn't of so much consequence now I've left Newnham, only they say it makes me appear un- sociable. 30 THE TIMES Miss Cazalet. [To Mrs. Bompas, who has been chatting with her apart.'] A thousand congratulations ! May I an- nounce it in my paper ? Mrs. Bompas. Do. Miss Cazalet. Any date fixed ? Mrs. Bompas. [In a whisper.] Not yet. Miss Cazalet. By-the-way, I hope you all know that anybody who buys a copy of the Morning Message on and after Monday is bestowing a penny upon a hard- working, deserving woman. The Morning Message — ever heard of it ? Denham. I must confess I Miss Cazalet. Ah, I thought not. [Jelf enters, carrying a silver tray with tea-things. Beryl pours out tea.] Miss Cazalet. Poor little journal — it's only six months old and very weak, like a rickety baby ! I'm going to nurse it into vitality. \To Denham.] Isn't it bold, eh? Denham. Extremely. TEE TIMES 31 Miss Cazalet. You mean brazen ! [Catching Beetl's eye.] Two lumps, please, dear, and cream. Mrs. Bompas. You must be careful not to lose your money. Miss Cazalet. Oh, that's all right. A dear good friend in the City, who believes in me, has bought the paper for that [snapping her fingers], and has given it to me as a — as a birthday present. [Denham hands Miss Cazalet a cup of tea : she declines cake.] Miss Cazalet. No, thanks, I'm too full of the Morning Message to eat — excuse my coarseness. Denham. H'm! Miss Cazalet. My City friend furnishes the Money Article, naturally. Denham. [To himself.] I'll be bound he does. Miss Cazalet. I do Society, the Opera and the Play, and perhaps Ascot and Cowes. Mes. Bompas. Don't overtax yourself, dear. 32 THE TIMES Miss Cazalet. Oh, of course I have a man Editor and all sorts of nice things of that kind about me — to save me the fag, you know. Mbs Bompas [Taking tea.] Thanks. And you think a woman really possesses the authority ? Miss Cazalet. Authority ! Why, the staff already kiss the ground I walk on. At 18 Boswell Court, second floor- office of the M. M. — I'm a queen, my dears, inky but absolute. It's glorious ! Mes. Bompas. And so, on Monday Miss Cazalet. And every morning, you'll each buy the Message, please — mj Message .' [To each and all.] Will you? Will you? Will you? Mbs. Bompas, Denham, Beetl. Certainly. Miss Cazalet. Thanks, awfully. Three-pence ! [Quietly, to Mrs. Bompas.] Oh, may I speak to you, dear ? Mrs. Bompas. Quietly ? Miss Cazalet. [To Lucy.] Lucy, I want you to tell dear Mrs. Egerton-Bompas— come here. TRE TIMES 33 [Miss Cazalet and Lucy talk confidentially with Mbs. Bompas. Beryl. [To Denham, handing his tea.] What is your im- pression of Miss Cazalet ? Denham. [Sipping his ted.] Sweet. Bebyii. Eeally? Denham. The tea. Bekyl. Who is she? I don't think we know her very well. Denham. She is one of Sir George Cazalet's many beautiful daughters. Beryl. Quite a lady, then ? Denham. He was quite a gentleman. Beryl. What has been her career ? Denham. After poor old Sir George's death she wrote real- istic novels, until Beryl. Until ? . Denham. Until realism was exhausted, Mudie alienated, and Smith shocked. 34 THE TIMES Beryl. Why this journalistic craze ? Denham. Oh, morphia, brandy, or ink — all uneradicable habits in a woman. Bebyl. I see you don't like her. Denham, Well — I'd rather you did not. Good gracious ! It has just struck me — sifppose my mother finds her here ! It can't be helped. Beryl. What do you mean ? Denham. It's an absurd old story, Beryl — may I confide it to you? This lady was once included in a couulrv house-party with my mother and father. It please I my dear mother, who is a woman, to be ridiculously jealous. Beryl. Of Miss Cazalet ? Denham. The affair was perfectly foundatiouless, but my father, as an assertion of his iudepeudeuce, thought proper when he returned to town — to calL Beryl. On Miss Cazalet ? Denham. Yes. Ever since then my mother has hated THE TIMES 35. Beryl. Not your father ! Dbnham. No — Miss Cazalet. Bbeyl. Hark ! Is that Lady Ripstow's carriage ? [Bbeyl and Denham look out of vnndow.^ Mrs. Bompas. \To Miss Cazalet.] I declare, it's quite sweet of you. Miss Cazalet. No, no — I regard my poor niece as a very precious responsibility. But she would be so much happier for some employment- — not the newspaper, the mere mention of that makes her head fiill in two — some- thing placid, something mouselike. Mbs. Bompas. \Mahing notes.] I'll consult Percy. You sug- gest ? Miss Cazalet. She would be a soothing companion for an old lady. Mrs. Bompas. There are so many old ladies, too. Miss Cazalet. Yes, if they'd only admit it. Or as tutor to some backward or delicate girl. Mrs. Bompas. There ! Miss Cazalet. You dear woman ! [ Producing a note-book.] What gown do you wear at the opera on Saturday night? 36 THIS TIMES Mrs. Bompas. One of Mrs. Weatherhill's. The skirt is yellow silk brocaded with tiny pompadour bouquets of flowers. Round the hem, three festooned flounces of pale yellow chiffon [Jelf shows in Lady Ripstow and ■withdrawx.] Lady Ripstow. Has Lurgashall gone? Mbs. Bompas. No. [Miss Cazalet looks up from her note-book ; she and Lady Ripstow recognise each other.] Mbs. Bompas. [To Lady Ripstow.] Let me introduce my friend, Miss Cazalet. Miss Cazalet. [Offering her hand.] I think we've met before, haven't we? [Lady Ripstow regards her with a cold stare, then turns to Denham.] Lady Ripstow. Denham Miss Cazalet. [To Lucy.] She cut me ! That woman cut me ! Oh, if ever I have the chance — ! [Bompas enters the room, his face pale, his hair dis- ordered, his manner much discomposed.] THE TIMES 37 Mes. Bompas. Percy ! Bompas. [ Whispering to her.] Get rid of 'em, get rid of 'em ! Lady Eipstow. [To Mrs. Bompas.] Good-bye! [Tb Bompas.] Good-bye ! Bompas. Good-bye, Lady Ripstow. Remember me to Lord Eipstow, I beg. What was I going to say ? [Lady Eipstow goes out with Beryl. J Denham. [Shaking hands with Mb. and Mrs. Bompas.] We shall meet to-night, I hope. Bompas. Somewhere or other — somewhere or other. [Denham goes out. ] Miss Cazalet. [Shaking hands with Mrs. Bompas.] Good-bye, dear. Mrs. Bompas. Must you go ? So sorry. [Mrs. Bompas i-ings the bell] Bompas. [Shaking hands ivith Miss Cazalet.] Good luck to your paper — meets a want — I was saying so this afternoon. 38 THE TIMES Miss Cazalet. How well you're looking ! Good-bye 1 [Jelp appears, and shoivs Miss Cazalet and Ltjcy Mbs. Bompas. What's the matter ? BoMPAS. IWildly.] The matter ! Mrs. Bompas. [Shaking his arm.] Percy ! [Trimble enters, with the visiting-list and some sheets of paper, but remains in the background.] Mrs. Bompas. Percy ! Speak to me ! Bompas. Howard ! Mrs. Bompas. My boy ! There's something wrong ! You've got a letter from him ! Percy, he's not ill ! He's not ! Bompas. Worse — married ! Mrs. Bompas. Married ! My child — married ! Bompas. Hah! Mrs. Bompas. Married — whom ? THE TIMES 39 BOMPAS. Say what ! A nobody — a nothing — an ignorant, ill-bred hussy ! Mes. Bompas. No, no ! Bompas. A low trollop you daren't show to your friends — a slut that's not good enough for our kitchen ! [Mrs. Bompas throws herself upon the settee in hys- terics, as Beryl enters.] Mrs. Bompas. Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear ! Ha, ha, ha, ha ! Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear ! Beryl. Mamma Trimble. My dear Mrs. E.-B.! Mrs. Bompas. My boy — my child — my poor boy ! Bompas. Be quiet ! Beryl. What has happened ? Mrs. Bompas. Your brother has married somebody. Beryl. Married ! 40 THE TIMES Mes. Bompas. Ha, ha, ha! Bompas. Monty, we can trust you ; Beryl, hold your tongue ! Bbkyl. \To Teimble.J a little water ! [Teimble runs out, Beryl holds a vinaigrdte to Mes. Bompas's nose.] Bompas. Disgraced ! disgraced ! Just as I was getting on ! Beeyl. Be silent, papa ! Bompas. Cards flowing in — flowing in — from the best peo- ple ! The Maharaja about to dine here ! And Lurgashall — just as we are engaged to Lurgashall ! It will fall through ! Beeyl. Oh, don't ! Look at mamma ! Bompas. Look at mamma ! Look at me .' [Teimble re-enters hurriedly with a glass of water — Bompas stretches out his hand/or it.] Bompas. Ah! Teimble.. No, no, it's for your wife. THE TIMES 41 BOMPAS. Oh ! It will be broken off — our engagement — to Lnrgashall — broken off! [Mrs. Bompas recovers, and sits up faintly.] Mbs. Bompas. [To Bompas.] Tell me. Bompas. It appears that Howard hasn't been near Oxford for more than a couple of months. Mbs. Bompas. But we've received letters from him written on his club paper. Bompas. Asking for supplies — hah, he managed that. Beryl. Where has he been, papa? Bompas. At that little out-of-the-way hole in Wales Beryl. Llannyllyth ? Bompas. Llannyllyth, where he and young Parker and Giltspur went to read. To read ! Mrs. Bompas. I told you I didn't believe in reading-parties. He'd much better have come home to learn his les- sons — I'd have found time to hold the book for him. 42 THE TIMES BOMPAS. "Well, the other fellows, Parker and Giltspur, re- turned to college Mrs. Bompas. Without Howard ? Bompas. Yes, he made some excuse to remain behind. Faugh ! Mbs. Bompas. Why? Why ! Why ! Papa, don't ! My dear E.-B. Bompas. Bebyl. Trimble. Bompas. Why ! So that lie might marry — so that he might marry — his landlady's daughter. Mes. Bompas. His landlady's ! Bompas. The daughter of a common creature named Dooley or Hooley — an Irish widow. Mrs. Bompas. Irish THE TIMES 43 BOMPAS. A pauper who seems to have got stuck in the mud at Llannyllyth, on her way from Ireland, for want of funds. Funds ! The dear lady's got another to keep now ! Mes. Bompas. Oh, no, no ! Bompas. \8iaring before him urildly.] There will be one lodging-house at Llannyllyth where a young man is engaged to clean boots and windows ! Beeyl. Papa! Tbimble. Really, E.-B. Bompas. Apartments for families — pleasant view of the glorious vale of Llannyllyth ! Door opened by my boy's wife's mother, in curl-papers ! Chambermaid, my daughter-in-law ! Only lodging-house in the Principality with a butler — my son and heir ! Beryl. Papa, you are exaggerating ! If there is any truth at all in this horrid report Bompas. Truth ! Beeyl. I am certain the reality is far less terrible than the story you tell us. Let us read it for ourselves — show us the letter. Bompas. The letter ! 44 THE TIMES Beryl. Isn't there a letter? How do you know all this? BOMPAS. Oh, yes, of course — I haven't mentioned [Howard Egerton-Bompas, a commonplace, heavy young man, of about one-and-twenty, looking very wretched and upset, enters quietly.^ - Howard. Ma! Mrs. Bompas. Oh! Beryl. Howard ! Howard. I want to know what's going to be done. Mrs. Bompas. \Kissing him.] My boy ! Howard All right, ma dear. I s'pose you've heard all about it. Beryl. Papa has told us. Howard. Hullo, Monty ! I Trimble. Er — um — ah- -good afternoon. Howard. Here's a mess. Monty. THE TIMES 45 Trimble. You are right, dear young friend. Mbs. Bompas. Oh, Howard, whatever made you do a thing like this? Howard. I dun' know. Bebyl. Tou must know, Howard. Howard. Well, I s'pose a sort of lonely feeling came over me — I dun' know. And then I got fogged over my Constitutional Law — I dun' know. And then my head seemed to swell. And then Honoria Mrs. Bompas. Howard. Mrs. Bompas. Honoria ? My wife. Ah! Howard. Honoria used to lay the cloth. Mrs. Bompas. Yes? Howard. Well, Honoria used to lay the cloth. Mrs. Bompas. You've said that, darling. 46 THE TIMES Howard. Well, Honoria used to lay the cloth — and so I married her at the Eegistry Office. Mrs. Bompas. lifot even in church ? Howard. I'm telling you— at the little Registry Office at Abergaron. It can't get about ; my chums never guessed I was in love, and my two witnesses were a deaf gardener and a chalk labourer ; and I can hook it to Australia, or the Cape, and our fine friends won't be a bit the wiser. And if people ask what's become of me, you can say — well, I dun' know. Mrs. Bompas. [Putting her arms around his neck.] Australia ! Howard. Oh, let a fellow breathe ! Mrs. Bompas. You stifle him, Beryl. Tell me, what is she like ? Howard. Jolly pretty, / think. Beryl. Is she fairly educated, Howard? Howard What does that matter? Beryl. Oh, Howard ! THE TIMES 47 Howard. No, she's not fairly educated. I've tried to teach her how to spell a little, and I've found out I don't know how to spell, myself. So I'm not fairly edu- cated ; and I suppose you'd call me a representative young English gentleman. Mes. Bompas. And — and — the mother? Howard. Mrs. Hooley? Mrs. Bompas. Is she — nice ? Howard. I dun' know. Beryl. You must know, Howard. Howard. Look here, one would think I was being ragged by the Warden ! I won't stand it ! Eecollect, I — I — I'm a married man ! Bompas. Now then, now then, how dare you ! Howard. You see I'm upset. If you want to quiz my new people, and — and — disparage them, they're sitting in the library — Mrs. Bompas. Here! Beryl. Mamma ! 48 THE TIMES Mrs. Bompas. Percy, why haven't I been told this? I demand to see my son's wife ! Take me downstairs, instantly ! Bompas. No, no — ^not another scene there, with a couple of servants in the hall. I'll — no — Monty, you're a stranger, they won't howl so much with you. Get 'em out of the library and sneak 'em up here. [Teimblb goes out.^ Mrs. Bompas. Why didn't you bring your wife alone ? Why the mother? Surely the mother would have kept for a week or two. Howard. / didn't want to bring Mrs. Hooley. Do you think I'm a fool? Beryl. For shame, Howard ! Howard. Why, I hadn't the cash to bring anybody. I was stoney-broke ; you can't maiTy without extra ex- penses. It's Mrs. Hooley who's brought me! — third-class too, like a cad ! Bompas. I hear them ! Ahhh ! quiet ! quiet ! Mrs. Bompas. Is my hair all right. Beryl ? Beryl. Yes, mamma. [Teimble returns.] THE TIMES 49 Teimhle. Come in, pray come in ! [HoNOEiA, an ordinarily pretty Irish girl of about eighteen, rather showily dressed, and Mks. Hoo- LEY, her mother, a '■^genteel ' person of eight-and- thirty, not very tidy in appearance, enter timidly amid gloomy silence. They have both been weep- ing.] Tbimble. I think Mr. — and Mrs. — Egerton-Bompas would like you to sit down. BOMPAS. \To HoNORiA and Mbs. Hooley.J Be seated. [HoNOKiA and Mes. Hooley sit, and continue sob- bing at intervals.] Mbs. Bompas. Mrs. ? Mrs. Hooley. [Speaking with a, slight brogue.] Hooley — Kath- leen Hooley, widow of Captain Patrick Fagan Hooley. BoMPAS. Captain ? Mbs. Hooley. Captain of the coastguard at Kilbrain, north of Ireland. He fell into the water fifteen years ago in time to be spared the trouble that's come upon us. Mrs.. Bompas. Trouble that's come upon us ! You've brought it on us ! 50 THE TIMES Mbs. Hooley. Indeed I've not, ma'am ! BOMPAS. Pooh! Mes. Hooley. No, sir, I've not ; and though I'm a widow in tri- fling circumstances, and haven't a living relation but my one child, I wouldn't have sought to better my- self by bringing distress upon gentlefolk — not to wear a coronet upon my brow ! HONORIA. That's true, ma'am. It's been aU. the sly doing of me and the young gentleman. Why did I consent to it? Mbs. Hooley. I was away from Llannyllyth for a couple of days, ma'am, leaving the cottage in Honoria's keeping while I took the cattle-boat to Kilbrain to inquire after a little furniture I'd stored there years ago. BoMPAS. Yah ! bah, bah ! Mes. Hooley. And when I got home last night, slightly pre- maturely, I looked up at my cottage and saw but one light burning, and that in my own modest sit- ting-room. And I said to myself, " the young gen- tleman's fatigued with his reading, and he's gone to bed with an aching head, that's evident." Mbs. Bompas. Well, well, well ! THE TIMES 51 Mbs. HooLKsr. So I let myself in with my key and walked quietly in- to my modest sitting-room, and there I saw Honoria, on one side of the table, darning the young gentle- man's socks, and the young gentleman himself on the other side with a pipe in his mouth and his feet resting on the mantelpiece among my little orna- ments and lustres. BOMPAS. Last night ! You haven't lost much time in pay- ing US a visit. Mrs. Hooley. No, sir, because I thought the sooner the entire family had a meeting the better. BoMPAS. The entire ! Mbs. Hooley. So that we might all look one another in the face, sir, as we are now doing, and put a simple question to each other. Mrs. Bompas. A question ? Mrs. Hooley. The question, ma'am — what is to be done ? Bompas. I'll answer that ! Beryl. Papa dear. Beryl. Let me make the first suggestion. [Sitting beside Honoria.] Oh, do please let me ! 52 THE TIMES BOMPAS. Clara ! Mrs. Bompas. Beryl ! Beryl. It is, that we answer the question, "What is to be done ? " \taMng Honoeia's hand] by deciding to make the best of it. HONOEIA. Oh! Mrs. Hooley. My dear young lady ! BoMPAS. How dare you, how dare you, how dare you ! Mrs. Bompas. Percy ! Percy ! [Beryl quickly takes Honoeia and Mrs. Hooley apart ; they are joined by Howard, and talk to- gether in whisper sl\ Bompas. How dare she ! A nice couple of children I've got. One marries a trollop, the other — the other makes the best of it ! Mrs. Bompas. I don't know what's come over her. [Joining the others.'] Beryl ! Bompas. The best of it ! The best of it ! Hah, the best of it ! \_Olaring at Trimble, who is quietly eating lumps of sugar.] Complacent ass ! [To Trimble.] Well? THE TIMES 53 Trimble. My sweet tooth. BOMPAS. I'm glad my misfortunes don't affect you. Trimble. On the contrary, dear E.-B., I was just think- ing BoMPAS. Thinking. Not of a way out of it ? Trimble. No, no — of a way round it. BOMPAS. Eh? Trimble. Being a non-smoker, munching always helps me to ponder, and I was recalling a case in point. BoMPAS. A case in point? Case in ? Similar? Trimble. Well, it was the instance of a dear friend of mine — a member of the Upper House, by-the-bye — a dear friend of mine, whose boy, having fallen in love with a common little provincial shop-girl, did the wrong thing by her and surreptitiously married her. BOMPAS. That's similar. A peer too — it happens to the best of us! Well? 54 THE TIMES Trimble. Well, that girl was unencumbered by relatives BOMPAS. Like ? Trimble. Like these good people. It was hearing the widow say she's minus relations that put this old affair into my head. [Tahing another piece of sugar.'] Excuse me. BoMPAS. But what was done ? What was done? What was done ? Trimble. Why, my dear old friend, Lord — but I must be careful — my dear old friend hit upon a somewhat daring idea. He never revealed the circumstance of his son's clandestine marriage. BOMPAS. What good did that ? Trimble. Wait. Keeping this marriage a secret, he created for the poor girl, entirely out of his imagination, a decent if not distinguished parentage and a thoroughly creditable past, into which, owing to its fictitiousness, it was naturally impossible for his friends to pry. BoMPAS. He pretended the girl — was a — lady, you mean ? Trimble. Certainly — and he made her one. He took her to THE TIMES 55 his heart — dear fellow ! — had her manners and her orthography duly polished, and eventually he pre- sented to the world as Wie fiancee of his son a young person fitted in all outward essentials to adorn Society. BOMPAS. By Jove ! Teimble. The wedding took place at St. Peter's, Seaton Square. Everybody was radiant and happy, espe- cially the boy's father. BoMPAS. The father ! Teimble. Yes — pardonably proud of having saved Society from a scandal and his son from a misalliance. BOMPAS. ' '' But it was a fraud, a cheat, a humbug ! Teimble. Well, well — but everybody was benefited. Of course, I really ought not to have mentioned it, dear E.-B., only the likeness between the two cases BOMPAS. But you wouldn't — if you had a boy who made a fool of himself — you wouldn't — you wouldn't— would you? Trimble. Dear friend, I frankly own that in such a predica- ment I should do all a father could do to — to — to preserve his son's self-respect. 56 THE TIMES BOMPAS. Oh! Tkimblk It was in that parental spirit that I assisted Lord — , my other dear old friend. BoMPAS. You — you helped him ? Teimble. Yes. [^Taking another lump of sugar.\ BoMPAS. \To himself l\ No, no — you'd do it, but /wouldn't. After all, fair trade hasn't done so badly for me, and, if it wasn't for Clara, I sometimes think I'd — I'd- — PMhs. Hooley's voice rises discordantly above the others for a moment J] BoMPAS. Ugh ! Monty ! Tell me your plan again ! TeU me again ! END OF THE FIRST ACT. THE SECOND ACT The scene is still the reception-room of the Egerton- BoMPAs's ; it is a summer morning, a month later than the events of the preceding Act. Mrs. Bompas sits alone, meditating upon a letter she holds in her hand. She does not notice Jelf, who stands by the door awaiting her orders. The bell rang, ma'am. Mrs. Bompas. Eh? Oh, yes. Tell them upstairs that Miss Mountrafford's new governess arrives to-day at — what time ? Where is Miss Cazalet's note ? Oh ! [reading to herself] " Dearest Mrs. Egerton-Bompas, how delightful of you to offer to take my little niece into your household as Miss Mountrafford's help and companion. As for Lucy, she is dying to devote herself to your son's charming fiancee. I'll bring her to you myself to-morrow morning at eleven " [to Jelf] Miss Tuck will be here at eleven. Jelf. Yes, ma'am. [Jelf leaves the room as Beryl comes in, dressed for going out.] 58 THE TIME8 Beryl. [^Coldly.] Good morning, mamma. Mrs. Bompas. Are you off out, dear ? Beryl. Lady Ripstow and Lord Lurgashall are coming for me at eleven, to take me to see Burne-Jones's pictures. Mrs. Bompas. You haven't kissed me, Beryl. Beryl. [Kissing her forehead.] I forgot. Mrs. Bompas. [To herself.] Forgot ! Beryl. [Constrainedly.] How is papa to-day ? Mrs. Bompas. I've not seen him yet. The House sat late and he slept in his dressing-room, to avoid disturbing me. How unkind you are to all of us. Beryl ! Beryl. I can't help it. Mrs. Bompas. And how rude you were to Mrs. Mountrafford and Miss Mountrafford at Lady Cleaver's party last night. THE TIMES 59 Bebyl. Mrs. Mountrafford ! You mean Mrs. Hooley ! Mbs. Bompas. Hush! Beryl. Miss Mountrafford ! My brother Howard's wife ! Mbs. Bompas. Be quiet ! Bebyl. I feel I can't remain quiet ! I have an impulse to rush on to the balcony, or on to the doorstep, and cry out to the passers-by, "Look here, this is a house of imposture ! " Mbs. Bompas. Don't shout like that ! Beryl. And when Denham calls — Denham, who believes so in my truthfulness — I am in danger of looking straight into his eyes and saying "Denham, Howard is married — married — and this is the house which contains his young wife and Mrs. Hooley, her silly, simpering mother ! " Mbs. Bompas. You'll be heard ! Bebyl. "Yes, yes, yes— this is the house where two humble, ignorant people are dressed up, and made images of, and called Mountrafford, but they are nothing but Hooleys, Hooleys, Hooleys ! " 60 THE TIMES Mss. BOMPAS. You'll drive me distracted ! I shan't be able to struggle through the season ! Beeil. [^Picking up a newspaper^] More of it ! Have you seen this ? Mes. Bompas. No — yes — I don't know — of course I have. Bertl. One of the " High Life " paragraphs in this week's Womayikind [reading]: "The elements of romance are certainly not wanting in connection with the ap- proaching marriage of Mr. Howard Egerton-Bompas, the son of the popular member for St. Swithin's, and the wealthy Miss Corisande Shafto Honoria Mountrafford, whose advent with her delightful mother has already done much to interest and charm society." How awful f Mrs. Bompas. Monty — Mr. Trimble — made these people Moun- traffords. It has been considered advisable. It is scarcely for women like ourselves to question the wisdom of men like papa and Monty Trimble. Beryl. [Reading.] " We can only hope that Mrs. Moun- trafford will some day find leisure to publish a brief history of her extraordinary missionary labours among the American aborigines." Mrs. Bompas. We were obliged to account for her past in a THE TIMES 61 creditable way. We have been guided solely by Monty. Bbbyl. \_Beading.] " Surely even the varied pages of fic- tion present nothing more fascinating than the pict- ure of this philanthropic Vfidovf-lady and her fair- haired daughter dwelling for years in almost intimate association with the rude remnants of the scattered Indian tribes." Mbs. Bompas. D-d-don't, Beryl, don't. Beryl. I vyill ! Mrs. Bomfas. Hush ! Here she is. Beryl. Mrs. Hooley? Mrs. Bompas. No — ^Mountraflford. Beeyl. Hooley. Mrs. Bompas. Mountrafford ! Beryl. [Flourishing the journal.] Hooley, Hooley, Hooley ! [Mrs. Hooley and Honoeia, both fashionably dressed, enter the room.\ Mrs. Hooley. Good morning, Mrs. Egerton-Bompas — good morning. Beryl dear. Did you fear you'd never see 62 THE TIMES us this beautiful morning? Oh, the fascinating party last night ! HONOKIA. ISpeaMng with her mouth full of sweetmeats.^ Good morning. Will you taste my pralines ? [Mrs. Bompas and Beryl decline-l Mrs. Hooley. \Posing.^ I'm anxious for your opinion on my new frock. My maid declares it's Honoria's sister I'll get taken for. Mrs. Bompas. I'm afraid the woman means the gown is too youthful for you. Mrs. Hooley. And why should I have years put on me when I'm just commencing to enjoy life ? Do you fancy I re- quire taking-in anywhere? [Mrs. Bompas arranges Mrs. Hooley's dress.] HONORIA. [To Beryl.] Another day, and you'll not be good friends with me ? Beryl. I want to be friends with you, very badly — only friendship must be founded on mutual respect, mustn't it ? HoNOEIA. No, must it? [Popping a sweetmeat into her mouth.] Sure, I don't know. THE TIMES 63 Beryl. Of course it must. And how can we respect each other? HONOEIA. And why not, will you tell me ? Beryl. Why, you couldn't respect a girl you found telling a — a lie, could you ? HONORIA. Oh, yes, I could, if I liked her well enough. Beryl. Ah, you'll never see things rightly ! [Showing her the newspaper.'] Look there ! you couldn't be good friends with a girl who lived and acted all that, could you? HONOEIA. Oh, mother darling, here's more about us — here's more about us ! [Mrs. Hooley and Honoria read the paper together.'] _. Mrs. Hooley. Ah, look at this now ! Oh, the complimentary allusions ! HONOEIA. See here, mother ! Oh, the flattering comments ! [Jelf enters, and at the same moment a few chords on a piano in another room are heard.] Mrs. Bompas. What's that ? 64 THE TIMES Jelf. Mrs. Cormanti and her young lady assistants are here, ma'am. [fife goes out.'] Mrs. Bompas. The dancing-mistress, in the choral drawing-room ! Mrs. Hooley. Sure, we're taking our lessons there now because of the beautiful floor. Do you mind what follows the waltz this morning, Honoria, darling? HONORIA. I do, mother — the Dance of the Sylphs. Mrs. Bompas; The Dance of the Sylphs ! Mrs. Hooley. It's an elegant pas de doo — for two people — Hono- ria and me ! Mrs. Bompas. You! Mrs. Hooley. y And why not ? It'll be wanted during the season, Madame Cormanti says, for the cause of some blessed charitj'. \ The piano is heard again.] We're coming, Madame Cormanti dear, we're coming ! [Mrs. Hooley and Honoria leave the room.] Beryl. Oh, mamma, mamma ! [Jelf appears at the door."] , THE TIMES 65 Jelt. Mr. Trimble is coming upstairs, ma'am. Bebyl. How I detest that man ! \She goes out, as Trimble enters gaily.] Tbimble. Aha, dear Mrs. E.-B. Mrs. Bompas. I am glad you're in town again. Trimble. My poor dear brother is so much better that I was able to get back last night, just in time to pop into Lady Cleaver's. It cheered me to meet you all there ; ah, the anxiety of nursing the sick — terrible ! Dear E.-B. not visible yet, I hear. Mrs. Bompas. No. Trimble. And our new dear friends, Mrs. — ah — Mountraf- ford and Miss Mountrafford — what progress have they made in the arts and graces while I've been away? Are we putting the finishing touches, h'm? [The air of a waltz is heard.] Mrs. Bompas. They are taking their dancing-lesson now. Trimble. Good. And the younger lady's French — we are helping her with a few indispensable phrases ? 66 THE TIMES Mrs. Bompas. Ah, I was obliged to pack off the French govern- ess in a hurry. Teimblb. Why? Mrs. Bompas. She pried too much. Trimble. H'm, dangerous. Get somebody else. Mes. Bompas. I've engaged Miss Tuck, Kate Cazalet's little niece. Thimble. The relative of a friend — is that quite judicious ? Mes. Bompas. The poor girl always has a headache, and seems too spiritless to be inquisitive. Teimble. Well, well, then everything is going on charm- ingly. [Eating a lozenge.] Really, I am not a senti- mental man, but I do think we ought to feel pro- foundly grateful. Mrs. Bompas. Grateful? Trimble. When we consider how eminently presentable these dear people are. I watched them at Lady Cleaver's last night, and I felt proud of my small share in improving their condition in life, honestly THE TIMES 67 proud. Yes, dear friend, let us feel deeply grateful, unreservedly happy. Mes. Bompas. Monty ! Thimble. You're not worried about anything surely ! Mks. Bompas. Yes, there's something I'm keeping from Percy. Teimble. Keeping from him ? Mes. Bompas. Well, haven't told him. His temper has become so ungovernable since our misfortune that I'm al- most frightened to tell him. Here ! Monty — heaven forgive me for my vulgarity ! — but this con- founded Irish widow has actually picked up a sweet- heart. Teimble. No! Why didn't you write to me ? Has it gone far? Mes. Bompas. He's after her every hour of the day ; he left a note here yesterday — here, with some flowers. Teimble. Who's the beast ? Mes. Bompas. Why, the creature my husband hates of all men in the world ; that's the reason I've held my tongue, hoping I was wrong in my conclusions. 68 THE TIMES Tbimble. Well, but who, who, who ? Mks. Bompas. The little reptile who ridicules Percy in the House, the member for Ballymara. Teimble. Mr. McShane ! Mrs. Bompas. Timothy McShane. Teimble. Damn ! Ah, excuse my breach of manners — I haven't sworn for years. Mes. Bompas. Sit down. Teimble. Dear Mrs. E.-B. ! Mes. Bompas. The silly woman met bim first at Mrs. Shekle- ton's crush, the night Honoria made her debut as Miss Mountrafford. Of course, after all, she's only eight-and-thirty, and she wore one of my diamond necklaces. Teimble. I know — I know. Mes. Bompas. Well, the Sunday following I fell over them with their heads together at Church Parade. And this last week I've seen them everywhere — picture gal- leries — shops THE TIMES 69 Teimblb. Bless my soul ! Mes. Bompas. And, if they are really^ in love, don't you realize the volcano we're all sitting upon ? Thimble. I certainly perceive Mes. Bompas. That she's a weak-brained, vain creature with no prudence, no — no Teimble. No invention ! Mes. Bompas. And suppose the fool of a man proposes to her ? Teimble. Why, you don't apprehend ! Mes. Bompas. Suppose in a moment of middle-aged emotion she confided in him. Teimble. Confided ? Mes. Bompas. Our secret. Teimble. Oh! Mes. Bompas. She couldn't marry without doing so. Monty, in mercy's name, shut your mouth and collect yourself ! 70 THE TIMES Trimble. My dear Mrs. E.-B., I — I frankly, I— I candidly admit this is a contingency which even I did not anticipate. [Jelf enters, carrying a large basket of flowersi] Jelf. For Mrs. Mountrafford, ma'am. Mas. BoMPAs. Stop ! D-d-don't disturb Mrs. Mountrafford now. P-put it down. [Jelf deposits the basket on the table and goes out] Mrs. Bompas. What did I tell you ? Trimble. His card is attached to it. Mrs. Bompas. I saw that. Trimble. [Beading card.] "Mr. Timothy McShane." A message, in pencil. Mrs. Bompas. I thought so. Read it ! Trimble. Forgive me, dear Mrs. E.-B. — certain things I cannot do. [He hands the basket to Mrs. Bompas ; she reads the message.] THE TIMES 71 Mbs. Bompas. Ah! Teimble. Pray relieve my anxiety. Mes. Bompas. "Shall present myself in the course of the day to settle matters." Trimble. This gentleman is unmistakably serious in his intentions. Mrs. Bompas. Advise me. Trimble. Dear E.-B. must put his foot down at once. Mrs. Bompas. Yes, yes. But what a scene there will be ! Who is to tell him. Monty, will you ? Tbimble. No, no — you break the ice. I must not be sus- pected of a desire to unduly intrude. [Jelf appears.^ Jelf. Miss Cazalet— Miss Tuck. Mrs. Bompas. Bother the people — at this moment! [Miss Cazalet enters with Lucy Tuck. Jelf mth- draws.^ pas! 72 THE TIMES Miss Cazalet. \Kissing Mes. Bompas.] Dear Mrs. Egerton-Bom- Mes. Bompas. So pleased to see you. Miss Cazaiet. I've brought my little mouse. How d'ye do, Mr, Trimble ? Tbimble. We meet too seldom. Lucy. [To Mrs. Bompas.J I will do my best to be ser- viceable to you and Miss — Miss — Mountrafford, is it? Mrs. Bompas. Y-yes, Mountrafford. LucT. Ah, you don't know how much it means to me to feel independent. Mrs. Bompas. Child ! Lucy. I — I mean, to feel myself not a burden upon — upon my — my — my aunt. Mrs. Bompas. I'll call Honoria. [She opens the door.] Mrs. Bompas. Honoria ! Oh, that ridiculous old woman ! The dance of the Sylphs ! Stop ! [She goes out, and the mudc ceases."] THE TIMES 73 Miss Cazalet. [To Trimble.] Now it's truly friendly of you to ask after the Morning Message. Trimble. One of the most valuable newspapers in London, I consider. Miss Cazalet. You know I call it my poor, ailing, rickety baby. Well, the Morning Message is — teetljing. It maj' outlive its infantile complaints Trimble. It must. Miss Cazalet. But, oh, people won't advertise as rnuch as a lost dog in it. And then, I have such trouble with its nurses — I mean, its editors. Trimble. {Smothering a yaim.'\ I'm profoundly sorry. Miss Cazalet. The first was knocked down by a four-wheeler, and is now contributing a depressing series of articles called "Happy Hospitals." The second departed abruptly last night. Trimble. 111? Miss Cazalet. Heartbroken ; wanted to marry — you know whom. And I'm left with a sub-editor with a large head and limited experience. Oh ! All my life I've tired of a new toy after a fortnight, and I've been the 74 THE TIMES real live proprietress of this influential journal for a whole month ! Ugh ! [HoNOEiA enters vnth Mrs. Bompas.] Miss Cazalet. [Kissing Honokia.] My dear Miss Mountrafford. [Lucy and Honoeia shake handsi\ HONOEIA. [To Ltjcy.] I'm glad you've come. Lucy. Oh, thank you. Honoeia. [Confidentially.'] We'll have a fine time of it if you'll not bother me with your instruction. Have a praline ? Mrs. Bompas. Honoria, take Miss Tuck upstairs yourself, and make her feel at home. Honoria. I'll do that. [Honoeia and Lucy go out.] Miss Cazalet, Let me see my little mouse's gilded cage — may I? [She follows Honoeia and Lucy.] Mrs. Bompas. Oh ! all these people ! [to Trimble.] Monty, Monty, find out if Percy is in the library yet ; if so, tell him I must speak to him at once, at once. TEE TIMES 73 Trimble. Bless me, yes^at once. Dear Mrs. E.-B Mrs. Bompas. What now ? Trimble. H'm, I don't think I should make such a very close friend of Miss Cazalet. Mrs. Bompas. She makes herself a friend. Trimble. I should check it. I always recommend that friendships should be regulated with a view to future disagreements. Mrs. Bompas. Bat we are not going to disagree. Trimble. I hope not ; I'm sure she's not a person one would derive any pleasure from offending. Mrs. Bompas. Oh, try and find Percy ! Trimble. Ah, dear E.-B. [He goes out, as Jelf appears at the door.] Jelf. Lady Eipstow and Lord Lurgashall are waiting for Miss Beryl in their carriage, ma'am. 76 THE TIMES Mes. Bompas. I'll find Miss Beryl and bring lier downstairs. [She goes out quickly.'\ Jelf. [At the door.] I wasn't aware that your ladysliip was coming up. [Lady Eipstow and Denham enter. Jelf withdraws.] Lady Ripstow. Yes, Denham, I have indeed observed a serious change in Beryl. Denham. It worries me dreadfully, mother. Lady Ripstow. A coolness of manner Denham. Towards myself. Lady Eipstow. Even to me. An abruptness of speech Denham. To both of us. Lady Eipstow. Followed by a suffusion of the eyes. Denham. For the life of me, I can't guess the reason. Lady Eipstow. Ah, but / can. TEE TIMES 77 Den HAM. Mother ! Lady Eipstow. Unless I am gravely mistaken, the pardonable cause of Beryl's distress of mind is — will you hear it? Denham. Go on. Lady Ripstow. It is that, notwithstanding all the diplomatic ad- vances of the Egerton-Bompases, your father has never called. Denham. Bah ! Lady Eipstow. Denham ! [Miss Cazalet enters, and is momentarily disconcert- ed at seeing Lady Eipstow and Denham.] Miss Cazalet. Oh, how d'ye do ? And how do you do, Lady Ripstow ? Lady Ripstow. Miss Cazalet ! Miss Cazalet. And how is Lord Ripstow ? Denham. [Placing himself between Lady Ripstow and Miss Cazalet.] In spite of advancing years Lord Eipstow has only one infirmity, Miss Cazalet. Miss Cazalet. Only one now ? And that ? 78 TEE TIMES Denham. The infirmity of forgetting certain former ac- quaintances. Miss Cazalet. Or of brooding over them. Poor old age ! Lady Eipstow. \To Denham.] The second time this has occurred ! Denham. I hear, her niece Lady Eipstow. Before to-day is over Mrs. Egerton-Bompas shall know that if that woman is received here I will never enter this house again : she shall choose be- tween me and Miss Cazalet. [Mks. Bompas and Beryl enter.] Mes. Bompas. Oh, my dear Lady Eipstow — Lord Lurgashall ! Beryl ! [Bompas, who is very excited, enters, followed by Trimble. ] Bompas. [Kissing Beryl.] Hah, Berry, my dear, I've some wonderful news for you. Eli ? Oh ! How d'ye do, how d'ye do, how d'ye do ? Glad you're all here — I've good news for everybody. Aha, what d'ye think, what d'ye think? Guess now, guess, guess! Mrs. Bompas. Hush ! Percy, what is it ? THE TIMES 79 BOMPAS. My chance has come ! Mbs. Bompas. Chance ? Bompas. Why, a great compliment has been paid me — an enormous compliment. To-night, you know, fin- ishes this big full-dress debate on the Irish Ques- tion, and the Whips have asked me to speak. Mbs. Bompas. Oh, Percy ! Bompas. To speak ! [To Dbnham and Lady Eipstow, shaking hands with them suddenly.] I didn't shake hands, did I? Excuse me. [Addressing all.] There have been people who've said " Egerton-Bompas will never do anything in the House." "Won't he!" I've thought. " Once in, he'll never open his mouth" — thousands have said that. Ha, ha, ha ! [Shaking hands with Miss Cazalet.] Did I shake hands ? My head's so full of my speech ; it isn't that success alters me at all. Here, you'll all want to come down to the House to-night, of course ? ' Lady Eipstow. I fear Bompas. Oh, I can manage it — there's nothing I can't man- age. I've got seats in the ladies' gallery, and another man will give me his. That'll be two Egerton-Bompases, one Bipstow, one Cazalet — — 80 TSE TIMES Miss Caz.vlet. At what time are you likely to speak? BOMPAS. About nine o'clock. Miss Cazalet. H'm, during the dinner-hour, isn't it ? BOMPAS. Yes. [Struck by the look on Miss Cazalet's face-l Oh ! Well, some men — like — speaking — during the dinner-hour. Eh ? Miss Cazalet. Delightful — such freedom from interruption. [To Mes. Bompas.] Send word to Boswell Court, dear, when and where I am to join you — wire "Feverheat, London." Don't stir! Good-bye all! Or telephone, 3033. LadyEipstow! [She goes out.'] Bompas. [To Lady Bipstow.] I've the notes of my speech in the library ; I've been up half the night over it. I expect you'd like to hear Lady Ripstow. Pray excuse me this morning. Lurgashall, are you ready ? Bompas. Going out, Berry? Proud of your father, hey? Proud Of him ? Beeyl. Oh, papa! THE TIMBS 81 Teimble. May I put Lady Eipstow into her carriage? [To Mes. Bompas.] Your opportunity. [Lady Eipstow anc? Trimble go ouf] Bompas. [Slapping Denham on the back as he passes.] Lucky dog! Mes. Bompas. Good-bye, children. [Beeyl and Denham leave the room together.] Mes. Bompas. Now! Bompas. Clara ! Aha, old lady, give me a kiss. [She kisses him.] So, they've found me out at last, hey ? Mes. Bompas. Found you out ? Bompas. Found out my value. This is a gigantic oppor- tunity — by Jove, it is ! Nice flowers you've got here. Mrs. Bompas. Percy dear Bompas. First of all, Clara, I mean to let that little beast McShane have it — straight from the shoulder. Mes. Bompas. Percy, I — I want to 82 THE TIMES BOMPAS. [Selecting a rose and putting it in his buttonhole.] Who sent you these? Lovely perfume. Straight from the shoulder ! Mr. Timothy McShane hasn't nicknamed me "Blankets" for nothing. Blankets ! Mrs. Bompas. Percy ! Bompas. Eh? [Turning the basket of flowers about.~\ I'm looking for a bit of green. Mrs. Bompas. I've something to tell you that may — put you out. Bompas. Ha, ha ! Things are going too well for that, old lady. What is it, a big cheque, or a ? [Readiug the card attached to the basket.^ "Mr. Timothy McShane." Mr.— Timothy— McShane. Clara? Mrs. Bompas. Mr. McShane left that, or sent it. Bompas. The coward ! The — the worm ! So he guesses I mean to have a slap at him to-night, does he? And he thinks to quiet me by sending you — a few — paltry ! [He tears the flower from his' coat and is about to attack the basket.^ Mrs. Bompas. No, no, they're not sent to me. THE TIMES 83 BOMPAS. What d'ye mean ? Mrs. Bompas. They're — Mrs. Mountrafford's. Bompas. Eh? Mes. Bompas. Read the other side. Bompas. [Reading.] " Shall present myself in the course of the day to settle matters." W-what matters? Mrs. Bompas. L-l-love matters. He has — fallen in love — with — Mrs. Mountrafford. Percy ! Bompas. [In a rage.] What's been going on ? Mrs. Bompas. Nothing — not much. They were introduced to each other at Mrs. Shekleton's. Since then — they've met — here and there — occasionally. I didn't attach much importance to it at first ; I tried not to, know- ing how the very name of McShaue infuriates you. But now the matter — has grown — too serious Bompas. Serious ! serious ! Mrs. Bompas. Yes, yes, because you see, Percj' — you see 84 THE TIME8 BOMPAS. See! What? Mrs. Bompas. That if he proposes to her, as he evidently' means to BoMPAS. Marriage ! Mbs. Bompas. Of course, marriage. Then, Percy — Percy ! then she would either have to refuse him or to — to — tell him! BOMPAS. To ten him— tell him ! Ahhh ! Mbs. Bompas. Percy, yoa mustn't give way to these uncontrol- lable fits of anger ! We — we never calculated for this. We forgot she's not at all a bad-looking •woman BoMPAS. Cat ! I hate her ! A simpering cat ! Mrs. Bompab. We mustn't be upset by this — this trifle. We must send for her and — coax her Bompas. Coax her ! Cat ! Mrs Bompas. And when Mr. MeShane calls Bompas. I — I could see him strangled on the floor of the THE TIMES 85 House ! I could ! And he-^dares to — to come after mj' widow ! Mrs. Bompas. Not your widow. Bompas. She's ours, body and boots. We've bought her. Vve bought her, — and paid for her ! Mrs. Bompas. Not so loud ! Bompas. And now she'd get me into a mess, would she ! She'd expose me, would she, me and my family ! She'd ruin me ! Ruin me ! Mrs. Bompas. Percy, these rages are dreadful ! Bompas. Old mother Hooley ! Cat ! Mrs. Bompas. You who declare you'll some day attain the high- est position — you'll never do it with such a temper ! Bompas. Won't I ! Won't I ! You'll see if I don't ! You'll ! Mrs. Bompas. There, there — hush, hush ! You're all of a trem- ble. Bompas. McShane ! Blankets ! 86 THE TIMES Mes. Bompas. Sit down, darling, and talk it over with Clara. That's right — that's right ! [He sinks on to the settee in a heap.] Mes. Bompas. Now j'ou're yourself again, aren't j'ou ? Bompas. McShane and our — cat ! Mes. Bompas. We'll soon put matters straight — j'ou and I, old man — you and I. [Trimble enters quietly.] Trimble. [To Mrs. Bompas, in a whisper.] Well ? Mrs. Bompas. He's had one. Trimble. Bad? Mrs. Bompas. Shocking ! Percy darling — here's Monty. [Bompas rait^es himself sloxdy and looks at Trim- ble.] Trimble. [Takmg a lozenge.] H'm, this has rather upset you, dear E.-B. Bompas. No — not very ■well— overwork. What's got to be done — about this? What's— got — to be ? THE T1ME8 87 Trimble. Dear friend, there's not the remotest cause for discomposure. In the first place, allow me to ring the bell. Mes. Bompas. {Smiling at Bompas encouragingly. '\ Monty is so useful. Trimble. Having summoned the servant, I suggest you give instructions that everybody is distinctly out to Mr. McShane. Mrs. Bompas. Out. Bompas. Out [Jelf appears.] Look here! If a man named McShane presumes to show his Mrs. Bompas. Percy ! Trimble. Jelf, if Mr. McShane calls;— you know him ? Jelf. Short gentleman, with flowers, sir. Bompas. Short Mrs. Bompas. Hush! Trimble. You are quite right — out. No matter whom he inquires for— out. 88 THE TIMES Mrs. Bompas. Out. Bompas. Out. Jelf. Not at home, sir. [Jelf 'withdraws.'\ Bompas. I've done that ! Trimble. Now, all you have to do further is to see Mrs. Mountrafford Bompas. Cat! Trimble. And, in a few well-chosen, temperate words, in- form her that this sort of thing emphatically will not do. [The music is heard agam.~\ Bompas. What's that? Mrs. Bompas. She is taking her dancing lesson [Bompas mokes excitedly for the door.l Trimble. [Slopping him.] No, no, dear E,-B., you must pledge 3-our word that you will conduct this inter- view in a reasonable, moderate Mrs. Bompas. Statesmanlike Trimble. Statesmanlike fashion. Certainly, statesmanlike. TEE TIMES 89 BOMFAS. Statesmanlike ? I understand. You shall see. Trimble. Good! BOMPAS. [To Mrs. Bompas.] You said my temper would keep me from attaining a big position ! Mrs. Bompas. Yes, but Bompas. You did ! Well, you'll see whether I can com- mand myself. Trimble. That's right, dear E.-B. ! Bompas. Bring her in, Montj*. Percy Egerton-Bompas has no dignity, no self-restraint, hasn't he ! I'll show you. Trimble. [Opening the door and calling.] Good morning, dear Mrs. Mountrafford. Ah, you almost tripped ! [The music stops abruptly, and Mrs. Hooley ap- pears in the doorway.] Mrs. Hooley. [Breathlesdy.] Oh, Mr. Trimble ! Oh, the intox- ication of the dance ! [Trimble goes om<.] Mrs. Hooley. It's one trifling movement I'll never conquer. 90 THE TIMES "One — two — three— and — four." Sure, the "and — four," -will break the heart of me. [Trimble returns!] Teimble. \To BoMPAS.j I've dismissed Cormanti. Mes. Hooley. {^Practising.] One — two — three — and — and BOMPAS. Be seated, ma'am. Mrs. Hooley. Ah ! The turn you gave me ! BOMPAS. Mrs. Everard Shafto Mountrafford I Mrs. Hooley. Yes? BoMPAS. A basket of flowers has been left for you at my door Mrs. Hooley. A bookay ! BoMPAS. r/iis basket of Where is it? Where is it? Mrs. Bompas. All right, dear — here. [She pushes the basket from beneath the table, where she has concealed it.] Trimble. Here. THE TIMES 91 BOMPAS. [Snatching the hasTcet.'] It's thrown me out — thrown me out. Mes. Bompas. [Quietly to Bompas.] No, no — capital, Percy. Trimble. Excellent beginning, dear friend. Bompas. Attached to tjiis basket, Mrs. Mountrafford, I finu a card. \He looks vainly for the card, which has been left in Trimble's hand.] Trimble. Certainly, a card. Mrs. Hooley. A card ! Bompas. Where's the thing gone to ? Where is it? Trimble. Are you looking for the card, E.-B. ? Bompas. [Grabbing the card from Trimble, who is smoothing it out.] Looking for the ! Mrs. Bompas. Percy ! Trimble. Dear friend ! Bompas. Er — the — ah — if — when Thrown out com- pletely ! 92 THE TIMES Trimble. [In a whisper.] Hand it to her. BOMPAS. Leave me alone. \_Giving the basket to Mes. HooLEY.] There, ma'am. Mhs. Hooley. My card ! BoMPAS. Take it ! Mrs. Hooley. [R^'ading the card.] Ob, look at this now! Oh, the politeness of it ! Oh, the ! BoMPAS. [Silencing Trimble and Mrs. Bompas.] Don't in- terfere ! [To Mrs. Hooley.] So, ma'am, so, Mrs. Mountrafford, this is the return you make me, me, me! Mrs. Hooley. And I should like to know, Mr. Egerton-Bompas, what you've got to complain of ! Bompas. Complain of ! Who has rescued you from — from obscure poverty, ma'am, you and your — your brat ! Mrs. Bompas. Percy ! Trimble. E.-B. ! Bompas. Silence ! Who has received you into his domes- THE TIMES 93 tic circle, his sacred domestic circle ? Who has placed you upon a social level with his own family, mercifully thrown the — the — the veil of oblivion over your humble origin, and opeiied to you the — the — the gates of the most exclusive society in the world ? Mks. Bompas. Quite so, dear. Trimble. This is admirable. Bompas. Who, placing his son's happiness above every other consideration, has consented to an alliance between that son and your daughter? Who ? Mks. Hooley. And indeed, Mr. Egerton-Bompas, sir, I'm not an ungrateful lady. Bompas. Show it, prove it ! Mes. Hoolet. But I confess I'm not unwilling to relieve you of the burden of my keep and clothing. Bompas. I don't want you to relieve me of it ! I've got you ! I — I carry you upon my shoulders for as long as you choose to live ! Mes. Bompas. Woman, you don't understand! You couldn't marry now without — without 94 THE TIMES Trimble. Without entering into a long and painful explana- tion. Mrs. Hooley, Philoo ! I'd explain everything in five minutes. Mrs. Bompas and Trimble. No! BoMPAS. Where's your refinement — where's your womanly feeling — Where's your sense of shame ? [They gather round Mrs. Hoole¥, protesting ex- citedly.'] Mrs. Hooley. Have done ! Don't bustle me ! \She breaks away from them, pursued by Mrs. Bompas.] Bompas. {To Trimble.] Well ? Well ? Trimble. Dear friend, I — I frankly, I — I candidly admit that this is a complication which even I [Howard enters, in riding dress, vyilh a tradesman's ac- count in his hand.] Howard. Morning, morning ! Jolly in the Park this morn- ing. Bompas. [Turning upon him furiously.] JoUy in the Park THE TIMES 95 Howard. There ! At me again ! A nice time I've had of it this last month ! Didn't you say I might come to you to-day for a cheque for my florist ? BoMPAS. Get out of my sight ! [Mrs. Bompas and Trimble lead Howard towards the door.^ Howard. When do I do right? I duu' know ! Bompas. Bah! Howard. I s'pose I may mention there's somebody waiting to see you in the library. Bompas. Where the notes of my speech are lying about ! ^ Mrs. Bompas. Who puts a visitor there ? Howard. At me again ! Why, when I let myself in just now I found a man on the doorstep who wanted to see pa particularly. Trimble. Ah ! what name, dear young friend ? 96 THE TIMES HOWAED. McShane. [BoMPAS, Tbimble, and Mrs. Bompas, stand trans- fixed with horror.] HoWAED. What now ? Mrs. Hooley. Did you say Mr. McShane ? Ah, he's called to see my trustee. Trimble. Your trustee ? Mbs. Hooley. Well, he asked if Mr. Egerton-Bompas was my trustee. Sure, what was I to say, situated as I am ? Mrs. Bompas. [To Howard.] Get the notes of your father's speech from his table. You'll break our hearts. Howard. Wrong again ! [He goes out.] Mrs. Hooley. I'll retire to my room while the delicate interview takes place. Am I to understand that obstacles are to be thrown in our path ? Bompas. [To himself.] In my house — Blankets ! Trimble. [To Mrs. Hooley.] Everything shall be done that THE TIMES 97 gentlemen can do to protect the interests of a lady whose welfare they Lave at heart. \_8he goes ow/.] Mbs. Bompas. Percy ! Be — be — be statesmanlike ! BOMPAS. Go after her ! Keep your eye . on her ! Don't leave her ! Mrs. Bompas. Yes, yes. Oh, my poor Percy ! \She leaves them, Trimble rings the hell.'\ BoMPAS. Well? well? Trimble. Dear friend, I — I frankly, I— I candidly admit that this particular complication is one which even I Eh? [Jelf enlers.] Trimble. Mr. McShane is in the library. Jelf. In the library, sir ? Trimble. Show him up. [Jelf retires. Trimble nervously turns the key in the doors, leaving only one unlocked.] Bompas. Monty ? TltlMBLE. You must be secured from interruption. 98 TEE TIMES BOMPAS. What — what's our attitude, our policy ? Trimble. To keep them apart for the next few hours. To- morrow we must get this iil-bred woman out of England, somehow. Keally, I — I'm quite upset. BoMPAS. Stand by me, Monty, when the — the lies are wanted. Trimble. [Taking a lozenge.] Command me — command me. BoMPAS. Monty, don't you think that in the highest sooial and political circles a man, even to maintain his po- sition, may tell one lie too many ? Trimble. Hush ! Dear friend, no one deplores a falsehood more than myself, but, let us always remember, the demand creates the supply. Trimble. But isn't there — one special moment — in a man's life when he'd better— resist the demand ? Trimble. Resist? BoMPAS. "^— y— yes. Trimble. Oh, my dear E.-B., in my own experience, there is THE TIMES 99 more time wasted in resisting temptation than over anything in this world. Hark ! [Jelf shows in Me. Timothy McShane, a smartly dressed, eager, dark, little man of forty-five or fifty, with a pale face, restless eyes, and a high forehead. He carries an umbrella aggressively.] McShane. Mr. Egerton-Bompas. BOMPAS. Mr. McShane. McShane. [Looking at Teimblb.] Mr. BOMPAS. Mr. Montague Trimble, my friend and confiden- tial adviser. Tremble. How dy'e do ? What delightful weather we're BoMPAS. [To McShane.] Be seated. [Trimble quietly locks the door.] McShane. Mr. Bompas, your political convictions and my own are as wide asunder as the poles. [Bompas bows.] That is, so far as I have been privileged to gather ; for hitherto your individual public policy has been one of intense, ardent silence. Bompas. To-night, Mr. McShane, that silence is to be broken. To-night 100 THE TIMES McShanb. Sir, I can promise you at least one auditor. BOMPAS. I thank you. McShane. But, Mr. Bompas, apart from our political diver- gence, I've noticed that there has crept insidiously into our personal relations a rancorous animosity. BoMPAS. On more than one occasion you have thought it — ah — decent to taunt me with my honourable associa- tion with — ah — er — a branch of commerce McShanb. Blankets? BoMPAS. I do not blush to repeat the word " blankets." McShane. Mr. Bompas, a moment has arrived when private differences must be suspended, antipathies softened. It is the first time in my life I've made such a sug- gestion to mortal man, but the circumstances are exceptional. Mr. Bompas, I have been fortunate enough to win the affections of the sweet lady who now compliments you by sheltering under your roof, of whose worldly interests I believe you are the legal supervisor. Bompas. Sir, you allude, I think, to ? McShane. Mrs. Everard Shafto Mountrafford — Kathleen. THE TIMES 101 Mr. Bompas, to better enable me to pay such pro- longed attentions to this charming lady as duty and inclination demand, and to give me the opportunity of entering freely this morning into the subject of the settlement of her pecuniary estate, I suggest there should prevail between you and me, in our private relations, peace. Peace — temporary or per- manent ! Perhaps it would be more convenient to both of us if we said temporary. [BoMPAS bows — they tshuke. hands quickly and distrustfully. MoShane th.] Holdup, dearest THE TIMES 137 [Lucy and Honoeia lead Howard with difficulty to a door.'] Howard. It's Monty Trimble's idea — 'umbugging second wedding. HONORIA. That's enough now — drop it ! Howard. 01' story — everybody ashamed of 'orrid oi' mother- in-law. HONORIA. Come on ! Howard. or mother 'Ooley ! ol' mother ! \They go out, and as they disappear, Miss Cazalet enters in a towering rage ; while Mrs. Bompas follows, attempting to pacify her.] Miss Cazalet. Not another word ! don't speak to me ! Mrs. Bompas. Pray try to see things in their right light. Miss Cazalet. In tueir right light ! I am taken by the shoulders and turned out of this house Mrs. Bompas. No — no ! 138 TEE TIMES Miss Cazalet. Kicked out of it — to please that woman Kipstow ! That's the only light in which I see things. [^Try- ing to put on her vianlle.] Confound the cloak ! Mrs. Bompas, Let me help you. Miss Cazalet. Hah, what a hurry you're in to see the last of me ! Send Lucy to me ; I'll take her away to-night. Oh, the insult, the insult ! Mks. Bompas. Wait here till you have spoken to my husband ; he will offer every apology. Miss Cazalet. Apology ! Let the creature Ripstow apologise. Send Lucy to me. Mrs. Bompas. Calm yourself ! My husband is at home ; I'll find him. Miss Cazalet. The insult ! the insult ! Mrs. Bompas. " How truly unfortunate ! Wait, wait ! Percy, Percy ! [She runs out. Miss Cazalet seizes the pillows from the settees, and the books from the table, and flings them about the room.^ THE TIMES 139 Miss Cazalbt. Ah ! Ah ! What can I do — what can I do to pay out this viper Eipstow ! If I can't revenge my- self on her I shall become frantic — frantic ! Oh ! [LuoY, still clutching the marriage certificate, enters quickly.^ Miss Cazalet. Lucy ! Lucy. Oh! Miss Cazalet. What's wrong with you ? Lucy. I — I'm so upset. Miss Cazalet. Upset ! LuCT. I — I don't know whether I'm doing my duty here. This seems to be such a strange household. Miss Cazalet. Hah, so / think ! Lucy. Do you know — do you know — they are already married ? Miss Cazalet. _ Who are married ? Lucy. Young Mr. Howard and Miss Mountrafford. Oh, I oughtn't to have told you! 140 THE TIMES Miss Cazalet. Go on ! Lucy. You won't repeat it, will j-ou ? And, what's more, she — she isn't Miss Mouutrafford at all, andnever was ! Miss Cazalet. Lucy ! [Snatches the certificate from Lucy's hand.] What have you got there ? Lucy. [Attempting to recover it.] Oh, no ! Oh, my head ! Miss Cazalet. [Reading.] "Marriage solemnised at the Kegister Office, in the District of St. Michael's, Abergaron, in the County of Carnarvon — Howard Bompas — Hono- ria Hooley ! " What's the meaning of it ? Lucy. I — I'm dreadfully afraid it's a mesalliance. Miss Cazalet. A misalliance? Lucy. Yes, and poor Mr. and Mrs. Egerton-Bompas are trying to give a good aspect to the matter by cele- brating a second marriage. Ob, don't you feel sorry for them ? . Miss Cazalet. Awfully. And this — this is the family into which the son of my old friend Lady Ripstow is about to enter ! Ha, ha, ha, ha ! TEE TIMES 141 Lucy. What are you laughing at ? Miss Cazalet. Come home ! Lucy. Home? [Miss Cazalet crams the certificate into her pocket.^ Miss Cazalet. You can tell me all you know about this sad affair in the cab. Quick ! Lucy. But I don't wish to ! Miss Cazalet. Come ! ' Lucy. The certificate — give it me — =let me return it. Miss Cazalet. When I've done with it. Lucy. No, no ! Miss Cazalet. Now, Lady Eipstow ! [ To Lucy.J Come home ! [She pulls Lucy to the door and they go ovt. Then another door is opened and Mbs. Bom- pas's voice is heard.] Mrs. Bompas. \ Outside.] Percy! Percy! Make haste! [She 142 THE TIMES enters the room quickly.'] Miss Cazalet ! dear Miss Cazalet ! [BoMPAs enters in evening dress, which has evidently been rather hurriedly put on. He attempts to make his tie into a bow as he speaks.] BoMPAS, Where is she ? Where is she ? Mks. Bompas. She hasn't gone, surely ! Miss Cazalet ! Bompas. Don't upset yourself ! Throw her over. Mes. Bompas. She must be looking for her niece. Bompas. She's of no consequence, I tell you Mes. Bompas. lOpening the door and callijig.] Miss Cazalet ! Bompas. That rotten newspaper of hers is dead or dying ; it can't do us either harm or good. Over with her I Mrs. Bompas. Miss Cazalet [Mes. Bompas goes out.] THE TIMES 143 BOMPAS. Come and tie my bow, Clara. Clara, come and tie my bow. Clara ! [Finding she is goneJ] Oh ! Miss Cazalet indeed ! How my hand shakes ! Over with her ! I've made up my mind — for the future. Self ! I — I can't tie my bow. [Sitting helplessly at the end of the settee.] Clara — old lady ! [Unnoticed by Bompas, Mes. Hoolby, looking very much upset, and McShane, pale, speechless, and agitated, enter the room, and stand gazing at Bompas.] Bompas. [To himself.] I — I'll wait for Clara. Heavens, how does my peroration begin? [Turning over his notes hastily.] I — I'm forgetting my peroration. [Mes. Bompas returns and sees Mbs. Hooley and McShane.] Mrs. Bompas. Percy ! Bompas. Do come and tie my bow. Eh? [Seeing Mes. Hooley and McShane.] Oh ! [M-cShaxe fidgets with his umbrella.] Bompas. Mr. McShane, I — ^I didn't hear the servant an- nounce you in the — the — proper way. McShane. Sir, I let myself in with this lady's latch-key. 144 THE TIMES Mbs. Bompas. Oh! Bompas. Oh ! Er — ah — Mrs. — Mrs. Mountrafford, we re- joice to see you looking so much — better. Don't we, Clara? [Mrs. Hooley begins to sob demonstratively.] Bompas. Er — that is, I'm glad that the report of your ill- ness, the — ah — influenza, was exaggerated. How it got about I — I trust, Mr. McShane Clara? McShane. Bompas. Bompas. Cease your dirty prevarica- tion. I know all, sir. Mes. Hooley. Owh ! And indeed it's myself that's told him the entire truth. Oh, why was I so impulsive ! McShane. Mrs. Kathleen Hooley, ma'am Bompas and Mas. Bompas. [Exchanging looks.] Ah ! McShane. Mrs. Kathleen Hooley, you'll oblige me by keep- ing silent — if that's possible. Mrs. Hooley. Loving me as he did, I never anticipated he'd take the disclosures in this way McShane. Mrs. Hooley ! THE TIMES 145 Mrs. Hooley. Sure, Kitty Hooley's as fine a woman as Kathleen Mountrafiford, barring the fortune he looked for. Owh! McShane. Bompas, when I met this lady to-day at our usual place of meeting, the National Gallery • BoMPAs and Mes. Bompas. The National Gallery ! McShahe. And when I perceived that she was in more than her usual state of health, I felt I was the victim of some despicable, underhand doings of which you were the originator. BOMPAS. I advise you to be careful, Mr. McShane ; I really advise you McShane. But I was not prepared for the revelations of craft, cunning, and duplicity which were made over a cup of tea at a neighbouring restaurant. BOMPAS. Clara, note Mr. McShane's language — note it ! McShane. I dashed down to the House, to find you had skulked home for an hour ; I followed you here. Now, sir ! You'll be good enough to ask these ladies to retire. 146 THE TIMES BOMPAS. Sir, I request that you communicate with me only by letter. McShane. You request, sir ! You ! Mhs. Hooley. [Clinging to hwi.] Ah, Tim, Tim! We'll go, darling ! Don't let your temper rise ! We'll go, darling boy, we'll go ! McShane. [Releasing himself. \ Kathleen ! Mks. Hooley. Yes, yes, I'll leave you. Oh, Tim, is it all over between us ? McShane. I — I can't say, Kathleen. It's a difficult position I'm in with regard to you. But I'll consider — there ! Mes. Hooley. Why was I so indiscreet ! Oh, the love I've thrown awaj' this day ! BoMPAS. [To Mes. Bompas.] Keejj near at hand — don't leave me ! Mes. Bompas. I won't. We're in his power, Percy. Bompas. I know — I know. Mes. Bompas. But be bold : brazen it out. THE TIMES 147 BOMPAS. Yes, yes — yes, yes. Mrs. Bompas. And then, if you can, buy him. Bompas. Yes, yes. Mrs. Bompas. My poor old man ! Shriek if you want me. Bompas. Yes, yes. Mrs. Bompas. I mean, call out. Bompas. I know — same thing. [Mrs. Bompas goes out with Mrs. Hooley.J Bompas. [To himself. 1 Bold — brazen it out. Bold — brazen it out. Now, Mr. McShane, I ask the reason of this outrageous conduct — conduct unbecoming a gentleman, conduct which [He sees McShane reading the notes of hin speech.^ What's that your reading— what's that you're reading? McShane. The notes of your speech, sir. Bompas. Put those down ! How dare you ! How dare ! McShane. What ! Lift up your voice to me again and I'll 148 THE TIMES publicly proclaim you the mean, fraudulent trickster that you undoubtedly are ! BOMPAS. Sir! McShanb. Raise your voice half a tone above your ordinary dirty conversational level, and to-morrow all London shall ring with the vile imposture of v?hich you're guilty ! BoMPAS. Ah, McShane ! McShane, it's you who are violent, not — not I. I — McShane, let's talk the matter over quietly — shall we ? Quietly — both of us — quietly — quietly McShane. [Besuming his examination of the notes.^ As I thought — as I thought. Bompas. You've no right to read those notes, McShane — no right whatever — no — no McShane. A contemptible vituperation of the Party to which it is my pride to belong. BoMPAS. That speech, sir, is a— a — an avowal of — of the convictions of a lifetime. McShane. See page three. THE TIMES 149 BOMPAS. That speech contains a — a — a lucid exposition of my — my firm, undeviating political principles ; — McShane. Your what ? BOMPAS. Principles which have been the main gqide and factor of a busy life ; principles which are — are- are ! McShane. [Prompting him from the notes.] Which are as vital as BoMPAS. That's it — as vital as the air I breathe, as the — the ! What are you doing, what are you doing? [McShane is deliberately placing the notes in his breast-pocket. Twilight is falling.] McShane. Bompas, you will not require these notes. Bompas. What do you mean ? My speech ! my speech ! McShane. You will not deliver this speech, Bompas. Bompas. To-night ! I speak it to-night ! McShane. No, sir, you do not, because fi"om this moment you abjure the political principles which have been the main guide and factor of your busy life 150 TEE TIMES BOMFAS. I! McShane. From this moment you turn your back on convic- tions which are as vital as the air you breathe BOMPAS. I do not ! McShane. You do ! And in their place you will adopt the views and opinions, and the mode of reasoning, of the Party to which it is my pride to belong. Bom- pas, you're ours ! Bompas. Yours ! Yours ! McShane. Yes, Bompas, from this time forth your sympa- thies, your aspirations, your instincts, are purely Irish. [Bompas utters a low cry.'\ In the House, and out of it, you're now a staunch, consistent, and, when necessary, an animated supporter of Joseph Finnerty and Michael James Shannon. Think your- self mighty lucky you're let off so pleasantly for the trick you've played me over the widow. My first, unworthy impulse was to trumpet your rascdity to the world. Bompas. Oh! McShane. And then a finer, loftier inspiration came to me — to utilise you in the cause of Patriotism ! THE TIMES 151 BOMPAS. No, no ! McShane. Don't imagine I'm proud of you. But tlie hand- some and regular contributions you'll make to our Parliamentary Fund will be acceptable, and the dirtiest vote counts on a division. [Holding out his hand.] And so, Blankets — permanent ! BoMPAS. Take care ! You can't do this ! You sha'n't do it ! I defy you ! I defy you ! McShane. What's that ! BoMPAS. No, no, I don't ! McShane, McShane — old fellow — old chap — be open to argument ! If you make a political turncoat of me, I shall lose all my big friends — nobs ! — nice people who'd be glad of any excuse to give me the cold-shoulder. Don't do it, don't do it, just as I'm laying hold of their coat- tails ! McShane. Ah, I'm ashamed of you ! BOMPAS. McShane — dear old boy ! I will support your Parliamentary Fund, munificently,— I will, I will ; only let me do it in a quiet, unostentatious, anony- mous way, and don't stop me from abusing your Party in the House ! McShane, McShane ! McShane. What ! You're asking me to be a schemer and a 152 THE TIME8 hypocrite like yourself, are you ! No, sir ! I'm an injured man — my feelings are outraged, my affec- tions misplaced ; but it's a convert I'm making, not a victim. It's no use, Bompas — you're ours. BOMPAS. Clara ! [To McShanb.] You'd strangle my par- liamentary career ! Clara ! You'd put your heel on the neck of a rising politician ! Clara ! Clara ! Clara ! [Mas. Bompas enters.'] Clara ! Mbs. Bompas. I know — I've been listening. Bompas. My chance ! My chance ! Mes. Bompas. Mr. McShane ! The great opportunity of my poor husband's life ! McShane. Don't distress yourself, ma'am. We'll give him magnificent opportunities by-and-by, — long nights of 'em. Mrs. Bompas. But this night ! Man, haven't you any heart .' We're all ready to go down ! McShane. I'm extremely sorry, but in view of his abrupt change of political views it would be better for him not to go back to the House this evening. THE TIMES 153 Mbs. Bomfas. Oh! BOMPAS. I will go down ! I will ! McShane. If you do, mind, you'll follow us boys into the lobby. BoMPAS. Ahh McShane. [To Mes. Bompas.] Now, d'ye notice how agi- tated he is ? Let him have a quiet evening at home. Mrs. Bompas and Bompas. At home ! [Bompas sinks into a chair, dazed.] Mrs. Bompas. Never mind, Percy. You — used to be — fond — of your home. McShane. To-morrow morning I'll look in early and dictate a manifesto to his constituents. And now I'll hurry down and give the boys the intelligence. Mrs. Bompas. Mr. McShane ! Mr. McShane ! McShane. Be easy, ma'am — on behalf of Joseph Finnerty and Michael James Shannon, I promise you this. You're ambitious, I believe, you and Blankets — Bompas ? 154 THE TIME8 Mes. Bompas. I don't know — perhaps — yes. MoShane. Mrs. Bompas, in the future your house shall be the centre of a great political world ; your establish- ment the axis of a mighty movement ; your drawing- room a crowded salon — the meeting-place of a powerful, irresistible Party. s. Bompas. Party ? McShaste. The Party to which it is now your husband's pride to belong. [He goes out. It is noio dusk.'^ Bompas. [Folding his arms and glaring vrildly around him.] "Mr. Speaker — sir. Nothing but a stern sense of public duty, nothing but an acute perception of the obligation I am under to my constitu- ents ; " Mks. Bompas. Percy ! Hush ! Bompas. " Nothing less would have induced me to follow the torrent of eloquence which has just preceded me with the feeble trickle of my own earnest but in- adequate oratory. Conscious " Mbs. Bompas. No, no THE TIMES 165 BOMPAS. " Hah, these interruptions do not find me unpre- pared ! I am not unnerved by the howling of Lrish ■wolves ! " Mes Bompas. For mercy's sake, be quiet ! BoMPAS. " Sir, if that expression Is not in accord with the courtesies practised in this House " Mrs. Bompas. What are you thinking about ? Old man ! Bompas. "li " Oh? Eh? Clara! Mrs. Bompas. Yes, yes, it's Clara — Clara. Bompas. Oh, my speech, my speech ! [Jelf appears.^ Mes. Bompas. What is it? Jelf. The carriage is at the door, ma'am. Mes. Bompas. [To Bompas. J Shall I— tell him? [With an effort Bompas nods aase.nt.'] Your master does not go down to the House to-night. Jelf. Not, ma'am ! 156 TEE TIMES Mes. Bompas. No. Send the carriage back to the stables. Turn up the light ! [Jelp disappears quickly. The room is brightly illuminated by electric light.] Mes. Bompas. Come, Percy ! Be a man ! We're not crushed yet. Bompas. Not crushed yet. Mes. Bompas. After all, we've only changed our political views from — purely — conscientious motives. Heaven for- give us ! Bompas, Yes, yes — conscientious motives; that's it — yes, yes. Mes. Bompas. Besides, think, our danger's over. We've bought that little wretch's silence. We're safe — our dan- ger's passed — we're safe ! Bompas. Safe ! Yes, of course we are — safe ! Mes. Bompas. Nothing stops us now ! Bompas. Nothing ! Nothing ! Mes. Bompas. Beryl will be married next month — gloriously THE TIMES 157 married. Our Beryl, Lady Lurgashall ! Think of it ! think of it ! BOMPAS. Lady Lurgashall ! The future Countess of Rip- stow ! Our Beryl ! Mrs. Bompas. Ha, ha, ha ! Old man ! Eh? Bompas. Ha, ha ! ha, ha ! Both. Ha, ha ! ha, ha ! [They link arms, laughing and chuckling. Beryl entersi\ Beryl. Mamma. Mrs. Bompas. We — were — just talking about you, child. Beryl. Mamma, I don't know how I am to tell you. Mrs. Bompas. Tell me— what ? Beryl. Lord Lurgashall has just left the house. Mrs. Bompas. Why, of course, he was to meet us at Beryl. No, no, you don't see what I mean. He has left this house for ever ; he wUl never return. 158 THE TIMES Mes. Bompas and Bompas. What! Beryl. I have told him that I cannot marry him, and our engagement is at an end. [Bompas advances excitedly to Beeyl ; Mes. Bom- pas clings to his arm.~\ Mes. Bompas. No, no, Percy ! This shall be put right to-mor- row — a lover's quarrel. Bebyl. It is nothing of the kind. My mind is made up. I will help to deceive our set about Howard's mar- riage, — you can make me do that ; but you shall not make me deceive the poor fellow who wishes to marry me because of my honesty. Bompas. Ahhh! Mrs. Bompas. Beryl. Beryl. Understand me ! You sha'n't shake me ! I mean it— I mean it ! [She goes out.] Mrs. Bompas. Our — children ! Our Bompas. Our — children ! Ho, yes ! Mrs. Bompas. No, no, not our children — not both of them. THE TIMES 159 There's still Howard. Poor boy, he's been impru- dent, but \sohbwg~\ he's a nice boy at heart. [Howard staggers on, in evening dress, his hat on the back of his head, a large flower in his button- hole, a cigar in his mouth.] HOWAED. Tha's ri', 'On-or-ror-ria, you practise your scales while I'm gone. You, 'Ullo, ma, you 'ere ! I'm off out for th' evenin'. Mrs. Bompas. Howard ! Howard. Wha's ma'rrer ? 'Ullo, pa ! Th' servants say you're not goin' down to 'Ouse of Com's to-night after all. Funked it, hey — funked it ! Hie ! Mrs. Bompas and Bompas. Oh! Howard. So I've told 'On — or — ror — ria to pound away at her scales for an hour or so while I 'ave look round. Bye-bye ! Mrs. Bompas. [Seizing Mm by the lapels of his coat.] Wretch ! Bompas. [Taking him by the coat-collar.] Blackguard ! Howard. At me again ! When do I do ri' ! I dun' know. 160 ,, THE TIMES BOMPAS. You — you're not sober ! HOWAED. No, I am not sober ! I've 'ad dre'ful month, this las' month, and I am drowning my misfortunes in the bowl. Le' me alone ! [Snapping hia fingers in BoMPAs's /ace.] There ! I'm my own master ! I'm young married English gentleman — with Uni — university education ! [He goes out, Mrs. Bompas and Bompas sit star- ing blankly before them. Honoeia is heard practising her "scales " in another room. Mrs. Bompas creeps over to her husband and puts her arms around him.'\ END OF THE THIRD ACT. THE FOUETH ACT. The scene is the same as before, but it is now early morning of the day subsequent to the events of the previous act. BoMPAs, still in evening dress, but looking very much crumpled, is asleep on the settee. Jelf enters, whittling. Jelp. The gov'nor! Why, he hasn't been to bed all night ! Phew ! [He is walking away on tiptoe, when he meets Mrs. Bompas entering the room, dressed in a morning wrapper, and looking pale and agi- tated.^ Mes. Bompas. Jelf, I am anxious about your master ; he is not in his room. I can't think Jelf. All right, ma'am. There he is ; he must have dropped off here. Mes. Bompas. Oh ! [Jelf goes out] 162 THE TIMES Mrs. Bompas. What can he have been doing all the night long ? [Turning over a litter of papem on the table.] "To the Electors of the Northern Division of St. Swith- in's." [BoMPAS moans.] Poor old man! [Readiwj] "Gentlemen. Actuated solely by conscientious motives " [Bompas mutters in his sleep.'] He's dreaming, — hark ! BoMPAS. \_In his sleep.] " Mr. Speaker — sir ! " Mrs. Bompas. Oh, dear ! BOMPAS. "Nothing but a stern sense of public duty " Mrs. Bompas. That miserable speech ! Bompas. "Nothing but an acute perception " Mrs. Bompas. Stop ! [Shaking him.] Percy ! Bompas. [Opening his eyes.] Eh ? Mrs. Bompas. Wake, wake! [He starts to his fed.] Where are you going ? THE TIMES 163 BOMPAS. The Division — the Division ! Mrs. Bompas. No, no — you're at home. It's morning. Bompas. At home — morning — I've been dozing — I [Sees his notes on the ..'^ '^>:;'lfr~'^ » ^ ■ - v< * _ ■>. V ^ a«iiMit«a««irr