The Profligate 5

The Profligate 5

HUGH MURRAY.

 

No, barely just. [_Speaking half to himself._] I thought the same

the moment I first saw her. She was walking in the grounds of the

old school-house at Helmstead, and I stood aside in the shade of the

beeches and watched her--I couldn’t help it. And I remember how I

stammered when I spoke to her; because some women are like sacred

pictures, you can’t do more than whisper before them. That’s only six

mouth’s ago, and to-day---- God forgive us if we are doing wrong!

 

LORD DANGARS.

 

[_To himself._] I’m dashed if my pious young Scotch solicitor isn’t in

love with the girl himself.

 

[_EPHGRAVES comes from the clerk’s office._]

 

HUGH MURRAY.

 

Mr. Renshaw?

 

EPHGRAVES.

 

Yes.

 

LORD DANGARS.

 

Dunstan!

 

DUNSTAN RENSHAW.

 

[_Speaking outside._] Why, George!

 

[_DUNSTAN RENSHAW enters as EPHGRAVES retires. He is a handsome young

man with a buoyant self-possessed manner, looking not more than

thirty, but with the signs of a dissolute life in his face; his

clothes are fashionable and suggest the bridegroom._]

 

DUNSTAN RENSHAW.

 

Congratulate you! So the law has turned you into a jolly old bachelor?

 

LORD DANGARS.

 

Yes, my boy--on condition that my solicitor offers a young fresh victim

to Hymen in the course of this morning.

 

DUNSTAN RENSHAW.

 

Hallo! You know all about it, do you?

 

LORD DANGARS.

 

Mr. Murray broke the news as gently as possible.

 

DUNSTAN RENSHAW.

 

[_Shaking hands with MURRAY._] My best man. Good morning, Murray. Was

it a shock, George?

 

LORD DANGARS.

 

Terrible! You might have knocked me down with one of Clotilda Green’s

lace fans.

 

DUNSTAN RENSHAW.

 

Shut up, now! I’ve played that sort of game out; so no reminiscences.

 

LORD DANGARS.

 

Trust me, my dear boy. Make me a friend of your hearth and edit my

recollections.

 

DUNSTAN RENSHAW.

 

Then all you remember is that at Cambridge I was a diligent but unlucky

student.

 

LORD DANGARS.

 

Quite so--I recollect that perfectly.

 

DUNSTAN RENSHAW.

 

And that from boyhood I have suffered from a stupefying bashfulness

before women.

 

LORD DANGARS.

 

Done. You’ll recall the same of me when I next have occasion to marry,

won’t you?

 

DUNSTAN RENSHAW.

 

It’s a bargain. I--[_Puts his hand over his eyes._] Oh, confound this!

 

LORD DANGARS.

 

What’s the matter? Are you ill?

 

DUNSTAN RENSHAW.

 

No. Wait a minute. There were some fellows at my lodgings last night

assisting at the launching of the ship--I mean, saying good-bye to me.

[_Supports himself unsteadily with the back of a chair._] They set

light to a bowlful of brandy and threw my Latchkey into it--awful fun.

And then they all swore they’d see the last of me, and they stayed and

stayed till they couldn’t see anything at all.

 

[_He sinks on to the chair, with his head resting on his hands. HUGH

brings him a glass of water._]

 

HUGH MURRAY.

 

Here.

 

DUNSTAN RENSHAW.

 

Thanks. [_Gradually recovering._] I’m all right. Did I look white or

yellow?

 

LORD DANGARS.

 

Neither--green. Fortunate the lady was not present.

 

DUNSTAN RENSHAW.

 

Oh, Miss Brudenell doesn’t know why rooms sometimes go round and round.

 

LORD DANGARS.

 

No? Perhaps her relations are more penetrating.

 

DUNSTAN RENSHAW.

 

Thank goodness there are no such incumbrances. Leslie is an orphan; I’m

an orphan. I’m alone in the world; she has only a young brother who

doesn’t count. So we start at even weights.

 

[_He drains the remainder of the water and shivers._]

 

LORD DANGARS.

 

Met her at a ball, of course. I really will be seen at dances again

by-and-by.

 

DUNSTAN RENSHAW.

 

A ball--nonsense. Her only idea of a ball is a lot of girls sitting

against a wall pulling crackers. She’s a “little maid from school.”

 

LORD DANGARS.

 

Charming! But how----

 

DUNSTAN RENSHAW.

 

How--I’ll give you the recipe. Go down into the country for a couple of

days’ fishing.

 

LORD DANGARS.

 

Often done it--caught fish, no girls.

 

DUNSTAN RENSHAW.

 

Wait. The stream must run off your host’s property through the

recreation grounds of a young ladies’ school.

 

LORD DANGARS.

 

Times are altered--there was always a brick wall in my day.

 

DUNSTAN RENSHAW.

 

Brick walls still exist, but a heavy fish on your line breaks down your

notions of propriety and you paddle along mid-stream. You soon discover

some pretty little women with their arms round each other’s waists, and

you apologise profusely.

 

LORD DANGARS.

 

But you risk rheumatism.

 

DUNSTAN RENSHAW.

 

So Leslie thought, and that won me her sympathy.

 

LORD DANGARS.

 

And sympathy is akin to love.

 

DUNSTAN RENSHAW.

 

And love, occasionally, leads to marriage. [_Holding out his hand to

DANGARS, who buttons his glove._] Help deck me for the sacrifice,

George. As luck would have it, Leslie’s guardian, Mr. Cheal, was my

people’s lawyer years ago, and he knew I was a gentleman and all that

sort of thing. So Cheal got my affairs into something like order,

made me settle everything on Leslie, and now you behold in me a happy

bridegroom with a headache fit to convert the devil. Thanks, old man.

 

[_MR. CHEAL comes from his private office. He is an elderly man with

a pompous manner and florid complexion._]

 

MR. CHEAL.