The Profligate 17

The Profligate 17

HUGH MURRAY.

 

[_Contemptuously._] Oh!

 

DUNSTAN RENSHAW.

 

I married her, as it were, in darkness; she seemed to take me by the

hand and to lead me out into the light. Murray, the companionship of

this pure woman is a revelation of life to me! I tell you there are

times when she stands before me that I am like a man dazzled and can

scarcely look at her without shading my eyes. But _you_ know--because

you read my future--_you_ know what my existence has become! The Past

has overtaken me! I am in deadly fear! I dread the visit of a stranger,

or the sight of strange handwriting, and in my sleep I dream that I

am muttering into her ear the truth against myself! And, oh, Murray,

there is one thing more that is the rack to me and yet a delight, a

paradise and yet a torment, a curse and yet a blessing, my wife--God

help me!--my wife thinks me--Good!

 

LESLIE.

 

[_In the garden below._] Dunstan! Dunstan!

 

HUGH MURRAY.

 

Your wife! Be quick! Tell me--how can I help you?

 

DUNSTAN RENSHAW.

 

Ah, Murray!

 

HUGH MURRAY.

 

For her sake--for her sake!

 

DUNSTAN RENSHAW.

 

The moment you reach London send for Janet Preece--tell her the

truth--entreat her to be silent. Tell her I will do all in my power to

atone if she will be but silent--only silent--silent!

 

LESLIE.

 

[_From the garden._] Dunstan! The five minutes are gone.

 

[_LESLIE runs on carrying some flowers. WILFRID follows, leisurely,

smoking a cigarette._]

 

LESLIE.

 

Have I come back a minute too soon? [_To DUNSTAN._] You have had bad

news; ah, don’t send me away again! You are troubled.

 

DUNSTAN RENSHAW.

 

Why, of course I am troubled.

 

LESLIE.

 

About nothing worse than leaving me?

 

DUNSTAN RENSHAW.

 

Isn’t that bad enough?

 

LESLIE.

 

[_Giving him a bunch of flowers._] For you. [_To HUGH._] Is it

unbusiness-like to give you a flower?

 

HUGH MURRAY.

 

Thank you.

 

[_WEAVER enters dressed for travelling._]

 

WEAVER.

 

The carriage is at the door, sir.

 

DUNSTAN RENSHAW.

 

Send it round to the gate. I will walk with Mrs. Renshaw through the

garden.

 

[_WEAVER retires._]

 

LESLIE.

 

Wilfrid is here to amuse you, Mr. Murray, if I am poor company. Must

you leave us too?

 

HUGH MURRAY.

 

Thank you--yes. I turn my face homeward to-night.

 

DUNSTAN RENSHAW.

 

I have something more to say to Murray. [_To HUGH._] Will you drive

down with me?

 

[_HUGH assents silently._]

 

DUNSTAN RENSHAW.

 

[_Pointing into the distance._] Leslie, when the carriage gets to that

little rise stand here and beckon to me till I am out of sight.

 

LESLIE.

 

Beckon to you?

 

DUNSTAN RENSHAW.

 

Yes, I want to remember it while we are apart as the last sign you made

me--beckoning me to return.

 

[_They go down the steps together._]

 

HUGH MURRAY.

 

Wilfrid, don’t ever tell her--your sister--that I asked you this. She

is--quite happy?

 

WILFRID BRUDENELL.

 

Oh, she’s awfully happy. But, I say, isn’t she a lucky girl?

 

HUGH MURRAY.

 

Yes. Why?

 

WILFRID BRUDENELL.

 

To have the best fellow in the world for her husband.

 

HUGH MURRAY.

 

Look--they’re waiting for me. Good-bye.

 

WILFRID BRUDENELL.

 

Good-bye. [_He shakes hands with HUGH, who descends the steps._] No,

I sha’n’t assist at Dun’s departure. I’m afraid Les will cry, and I

can’t bear to see a girl cry; it makes me feel so dreadfully queer in

the chest. Dun is saying good-bye to her now. Oh, well now, she is a

brick! She’s rolled her handkerchief into a ball and put it in her

pocket. There’s Murray. In he gets! Away they go! Poor Leslie’s head is

drooping. Confound it, she’s taking out her handkerchief! I can’t stand

it.

 

[_PRISCILLA enters from the villa, crying._]

 

PRISCILLA.

 

Mr. Wilfrid.

 

WILFRID BRUDENELL.

 

Well? Oh, now, what are _you_ crying about?

 

PRISCILLA.

 

The young person, sir, who was with the two ladies who came to see our

cartoon, has been sent back on foot, and she’s downstairs begging for a

morsel of water; and, oh, Mr. Wilfrid, the poor thing looks so weak and

ill!

 

WILFRID BRUDENELL.

 

Ill! Where is she?

 

[_He goes into the villa, as LESLIE slowly ascends the garden steps.

The serenade is heard again._]

 

LESLIE.

 

No, Pietro mustn’t sing to me while he is gone. My home shall never be

bright and cheerful when its dear master is away.

 

WILFRID BRUDENELL.

 

[_From the house._] Leslie! Leslie!

 

LESLIE.

 

Will? [_WILFRID comes from the villa with JANET PREECE, who looks weary

and feeble. Taking JANET’S hand._] Oh! Wilfrid!

 

WILFRID BRUDENELL.

 

It’s our little friend of the London railway station!

 

JANET PREECE.

 

No, no--I am only Mrs. Stonehay’s servant--little better. She has

threatened to send me away, because she says I am self-willed and won’t

obey her. But I--I can’t walk; I’m not over-strong. What shall I do!

 

[_She falls back fainting; WILFRID catches her in his arms. LESLIE

kneels beside her, loosening the strings of her bonnet._]

 

LESLIE.

 

Oh, poor girl! Why, she is no older than I. Ah, Will, she sha’n’t want

a shelter! Priscilla! Priscilla!

 

WILFRID BRUDENELL.

 

Priscilla!

 

LESLIE.