The Profligate 14
IRENE.
No, no, mamma.
LESLIE.
Congratulations!
MRS. STONEHAY.
During our visit to Rome, Mrs. Renshaw, Irene has become most
fortunately engaged.
LESLIE.
[_Embracing IRENE._] To be married?
IRENE.
Yes.
MRS. STONEHAY.
The combination of qualities possessed by Mrs. Renshaw’s husband is
rare. Nevertheless I think that some of the finest attributes of heart
and mind are bestowed in an eminent degree upon Lord Dangars.
LESLIE.
Dear Irene, I hope you will be--oh, you _must_ be, as happy as I am.
Tell me about him. Wilfrid, point out San Croce to Mrs. Stonehay,
and--and show her our little garden.
[_WILFRID escorts MRS. STONEHAY towards the garden._]
MRS. STONEHAY.
[_To herself._] The chit has no rank to boast about, at any rate.
LESLIE.
Go on. Do make me your confidante.
IRENE.
No, no.
LESLIE.
Lord Dangars, your mother said. Have I the name correctly? Lady Dangars!
IRENE.
Leslie--I--I can’t talk about it.
LESLIE.
Can’t talk about your sweetheart?
IRENE.
Hush! Lord Dangars is simply a man who wishes to marry me and whom my
mother wishes me to marry. We are poor and she has her ambitions; there
you have two volumes of a three-volume novel.
LESLIE.
You don’t--love him?
IRENE.
Love him!
LESLIE.
Then you mustn’t do this. Dear, can’t I help you?
IRENE.
_You_ help me! Child, my small corner in the world is hewn out of
stone; there’s not a path there that it would not bruise your little
feet to tread.
MRS. STONEHAY.
[_To WILFRID._] I am in ecstacy! The moment Lord Dangars arrives in
Florence I shall bring him to the Villa Colobiano.
WILFRID BRUDENELL.
This is the way to the garden.
MRS. STONEHAY.
[_Watching LESLIE and IRENE._] I thought so. We shall not be patronized
by Mrs. Renshaw again.
[_WILFRID and MRS. STONEHAY go down the garden steps._]
LESLIE.
But perhaps you will learn to love Lord Dangars. Is he young?
IRENE.
Sufficiently so to escape being taken for my--grandfather.
LESLIE.
Handsome?
IRENE.
There is no accepted standard for man’s beauty.
LESLIE.
Oh, be more serious. Is he a bachelor or a widower?
IRENE.
Neither.
LESLIE.
Neither?
IRENE.
Lord Dangars is a _divorcé_.
LESLIE.
A _divorcé_? At least, then, he deserves your pity.
IRENE.
For what?
LESLIE.
For his sorrow. He must have suffered.
IRENE.
No, it was scarcely Lord Dangars who suffered.
LESLIE.
[_Shrinking from IRENE._] _His wife?_
IRENE.
Yes.
LESLIE.
And you will--marry him! Oh! For shame, Irene!
IRENE.
Leslie!
LESLIE.
I can’t think of it!
IRENE.
Be silent! I have the world upon my side--what is your girl’s voice
against the world! I shall have money and a title--I shall have
satisfied my mother at last. Why should you make it harder for me by
even a word?
LESLIE.
I want to save you from sharing this man’s hideous disgrace.
IRENE.
Oh, the world has a short memory for a man’s disgrace. It is only with
women that it lays down scandal, as it lays down wine, to ripen and
mature.
LESLIE.
But _you_ will not forget; you will die under the burden of your
husband’s past.
IRENE.
I! oh, no! What is a man’s past to the woman who marries him!
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