Part 7

MRS. CHEVELEY. Arthur, you are unjust to me. Believe me, you are quite unjust to me. I didn’t go to taunt Gertrude at all. I had no idea of doing anything of the kind when I entered. I called with Lady Markby simply to ask whether an ornament, a jewel, that I lost somewhere last night, had been found at the Chilterns’. If you don’t believe me, you can ask Lady Markby. She will tell you it is true. The scene that occurred happened after Lady Markby had left, and was really forced on me by Gertrude’s rudeness and sneers. I called, oh!—a little out of malice if you like—but really to ask if a diamond brooch of mine had been found. That was the origin of the whole thing.

LORD GORING. A diamond snake-brooch with a ruby?

MRS. CHEVELEY. Yes. How do you know?

LORD GORING. Because it is found. In point of fact, I found it myself, and stupidly forgot to tell the butler anything about it as I was leaving. [_Goes over to the writing-table and pulls out the drawers_.] It is in this drawer. No, that one. This is the brooch, isn’t it? [_Holds up the brooch_.]

MRS. CHEVELEY. Yes. I am so glad to get it back. It was . . a present.

LORD GORING. Won’t you wear it?

MRS. CHEVELEY. Certainly, if you pin it in. [LORD GORING _suddenly clasps it on her arm_.] Why do you put it on as a bracelet? I never knew it could be worn as a bracelet.

LORD GORING. Really?

MRS. CHEVELEY. [_Holding out her handsome arm_.] No; but it looks very well on me as a bracelet, doesn’t it?

LORD GORING. Yes; much better than when I saw it last.

MRS. CHEVELEY. When did you see it last?

LORD GORING. [_Calmly_.] Oh, ten years ago, on Lady Berkshire, from whom you stole it.

MRS. CHEVELEY. [_Starting_.] What do you mean?

LORD GORING. I mean that you stole that ornament from my cousin, Mary Berkshire, to whom I gave it when she was married. Suspicion fell on a wretched servant, who was sent away in disgrace. I recognised it last night. I determined to say nothing about it till I had found the thief. I have found the thief now, and I have heard her own confession.

MRS. CHEVELEY. [_Tossing her head_.] It is not true.

LORD GORING. You know it is true. Why, thief is written across your face at this moment.

MRS. CHEVELEY. I will deny the whole affair from beginning to end. I will say that I have never seen this wretched thing, that it was never in my possession.

[MRS. CHEVELEY _tries to get the bracelet off her arm_, _but fails_. LORD GORING _looks on amused_. _Her thin fingers tear at the jewel to no purpose_. _A curse breaks from her_.]

LORD GORING. The drawback of stealing a thing, Mrs. Cheveley, is that one never knows how wonderful the thing that one steals is. You can’t get that bracelet off, unless you know where the spring is. And I see you don’t know where the spring is. It is rather difficult to find.

MRS. CHEVELEY. You brute! You coward! [_She tries again to unclasp the bracelet_, _but fails_.]

LORD GORING. Oh! don’t use big words. They mean so little.

MRS. CHEVELEY. [_Again tears at the bracelet in a paroxysm of rage_, _with inarticulate sounds_. _Then stops_, _and looks at_ LORD GORING.] What are you going to do?

LORD GORING. I am going to ring for my servant. He is an admirable servant. Always comes in the moment one rings for him. When he comes I will tell him to fetch the police.

MRS. CHEVELEY. [_Trembling_.] The police? What for?

LORD GORING. To-morrow the Berkshires will prosecute you. That is what the police are for.

MRS. CHEVELEY. [_Is now in an agony of physical terror_. _Her face is distorted_. _Her mouth awry_. _A mask has fallen from her_. _She is_, _for the moment_, _dreadful to look at_.] Don’t do that. I will do anything you want. Anything in the world you want.

LORD GORING. Give me Robert Chiltern’s letter.

MRS. CHEVELEY. Stop! Stop! Let me have time to think.

LORD GORING. Give me Robert Chiltern’s letter.

MRS. CHEVELEY. I have not got it with me. I will give it to you to-morrow.

LORD GORING. You know you are lying. Give it to me at once. [MRS. CHEVELEY _pulls the letter out_, _and hands it to him_. _She is horribly pale_.] This is it?

MRS. CHEVELEY. [_In a hoarse voice_.] Yes.

LORD GORING. [_Takes the letter_, _examines it_, _sighs_, _and burns it with the lamp_.] For so well-dressed a woman, Mrs. Cheveley, you have moments of admirable common sense. I congratulate you.

MRS. CHEVELEY. [_Catches sight of_ LADY CHILTERN’S _letter_, _the cover of which is just showing from under the blotting-book_.] Please get me a glass of water.

LORD GORING. Certainly. [_Goes to the corner of the room and pours out a glass of water_. _While his back is turned_ MRS. CHEVELEY _steals_ LADY CHILTERN’S _letter_. _When_ LORD GORING _returns the glass she refuses it with a gesture_.]

MRS. CHEVELEY. Thank you. Will you help me on with my cloak?

LORD GORING. With pleasure. [_Puts her cloak on_.]

MRS. CHEVELEY. Thanks. I am never going to try to harm Robert Chiltern again.

LORD GORING. Fortunately you have not the chance, Mrs. Cheveley.

MRS. CHEVELEY. Well, if even I had the chance, I wouldn’t. On the contrary, I am going to render him a great service.

LORD GORING. I am charmed to hear it. It is a reformation.

MRS. CHEVELEY. Yes. I can’t bear so upright a gentleman, so honourable an English gentleman, being so shamefully deceived, and so—

LORD GORING. Well?

MRS. CHEVELEY. I find that somehow Gertrude Chiltern’s dying speech and confession has strayed into my pocket.

LORD GORING. What do you mean?

MRS. CHEVELEY. [_With a bitter note of triumph in her voice_.] I mean that I am going to send Robert Chiltern the love-letter his wife wrote to you to-night.

LORD GORING. Love-letter?

MRS. CHEVELEY. [_Laughing_.] ‘I want you. I trust you. I am coming to you. Gertrude.’

[LORD GORING _rushes to the bureau and takes up the envelope_, _finds is empty_, _and turns round_.]

LORD GORING. You wretched woman, must you always be thieving? Give me back that letter. I’ll take it from you by force. You shall not leave my room till I have got it.

[_He rushes towards her_, _but_ MRS. CHEVELEY _at once puts her hand on the electric bell that is on the table_. _The bell sounds with shrill reverberations_, _and_ PHIPPS _enters_.]

MRS. CHEVELEY. [_After a pause_.] Lord Goring merely rang that you should show me out. Good-night, Lord Goring!

[_Goes out followed by_ PHIPPS. _Her face is illumined with evil triumph_. _There is joy in her eyes_. _Youth seems to have come back to her_. _Her last glance is like a swift arrow_. LORD GORING _bites his lip_, _and lights a cigarette_.]

## ACT DROP.

FOURTH ACT

SCENE

_Same as Act II_.

[LORD GORING _is standing by the fireplace with his hands in his pockets_. _He is looking rather bored_.]

LORD GORING. [_Pulls out his watch_, _inspects it_, _and rings the bell_.] It is a great nuisance. I can’t find any one in this house to talk to. And I am full of interesting information. I feel like the latest edition of something or other.

[_Enter servant_.]

JAMES. Sir Robert is still at the Foreign Office, my lord.

LORD GORING. Lady Chiltern not down yet?

JAMES. Her ladyship has not yet left her room. Miss Chiltern has just come in from riding.

LORD GORING. [_To himself_.] Ah! that is something.

JAMES. Lord Caversham has been waiting some time in the library for Sir Robert. I told him your lordship was here.

LORD GORING. Thank you! Would you kindly tell him I’ve gone?

JAMES. [_Bowing_.] I shall do so, my lord.

[_Exit servant_.]

LORD GORING. Really, I don’t want to meet my father three days running. It is a great deal too much excitement for any son. I hope to goodness he won’t come up. Fathers should be neither seen nor heard. That is the only proper basis for family life. Mothers are different. Mothers are darlings. [_Throws himself down into a chair_, _picks up a paper and begins to read it_.]

[_Enter_ LORD CAVERSHAM.]

LORD CAVERSHAM. Well, sir, what are you doing here? Wasting your time as usual, I suppose?

LORD GORING. [_Throws down paper and rises_.] My dear father, when one pays a visit it is for the purpose of wasting other people’s time, not one’s own.

LORD CAVERSHAM. Have you been thinking over what I spoke to you about last night?

LORD GORING. I have been thinking about nothing else.

LORD CAVERSHAM. Engaged to be married yet?

LORD GORING. [_Genially_.] Not yet: but I hope to be before lunch-time.

LORD CAVERSHAM. [_Caustically_.] You can have till dinner-time if it would be of any convenience to you.

LORD GORING. Thanks awfully, but I think I’d sooner be engaged before lunch.

LORD CAVERSHAM. Humph! Never know when you are serious or not.

LORD GORING. Neither do I, father.

[_A pause_.]

LORD CAVERSHAM. I suppose you have read _The Times_ this morning?

LORD GORING. [_Airily_.] The Times? Certainly not. I only read _The Morning Post_. All that one should know about modern life is where the Duchesses are; anything else is quite demoralising.

LORD CAVERSHAM. Do you mean to say you have not read _The Times_ leading article on Robert Chiltern’s career?

LORD GORING. Good heavens! No. What does it say?

LORD CAVERSHAM. What should it say, sir? Everything complimentary, of course. Chiltern’s speech last night on this Argentine Canal scheme was one of the finest pieces of oratory ever delivered in the House since Canning.

LORD GORING. Ah! Never heard of Canning. Never wanted to. And did . . . did Chiltern uphold the scheme?

LORD CAVERSHAM. Uphold it, sir? How little you know him! Why, he denounced it roundly, and the whole system of modern political finance. This speech is the turning-point in his career, as _The Times_ points out. You should read this article, sir. [_Opens_ The Times.] ‘Sir Robert Chiltern . . . most rising of our young statesmen . . . Brilliant Orator . . . Unblemished career . . . Well-known integrity of character . . . Represents what is best in English public life . . . Noble contrast to the lax morality so common among foreign politicians.’ They will never say that of you, sir.

LORD GORING. I sincerely hope not, father. However, I am delighted at what you tell me about Robert, thoroughly delighted. It shows he has got pluck.

LORD CAVERSHAM. He has got more than pluck, sir, he has got genius.

LORD GORING. Ah! I prefer pluck. It is not so common, nowadays, as genius is.

LORD CAVERSHAM. I wish you would go into Parliament.

LORD GORING. My dear father, only people who look dull ever get into the House of Commons, and only people who are dull ever succeed there.

LORD CAVERSHAM. Why don’t you try to do something useful in life?

LORD GORING. I am far too young.

LORD CAVERSHAM. [_Testily_.] I hate this affectation of youth, sir. It is a great deal too prevalent nowadays.

LORD GORING. Youth isn’t an affectation. Youth is an art.

LORD CAVERSHAM. Why don’t you propose to that pretty Miss Chiltern?

LORD GORING. I am of a very nervous disposition, especially in the morning.

LORD CAVERSHAM. I don’t suppose there is the smallest chance of her accepting you.

LORD GORING. I don’t know how the betting stands to-day.

LORD CAVERSHAM. If she did accept you she would be the prettiest fool in England.

LORD GORING. That is just what I should like to marry. A thoroughly sensible wife would reduce me to a condition of absolute idiocy in less than six months.

LORD CAVERSHAM. You don’t deserve her, sir.

LORD GORING. My dear father, if we men married the women we deserved, we should have a very bad time of it.

[_Enter_ MABEL CHILTERN.]

MABEL CHILTERN. Oh! . . . How do you do, Lord Caversham? I hope Lady Caversham is quite well?

LORD CAVERSHAM. Lady Caversham is as usual, as usual.

LORD GORING. Good morning, Miss Mabel!

MABEL CHILTERN. [_Taking no notice at all of_ LORD GORING, _and addressing herself exclusively to_ LORD CAVERSHAM.] And Lady Caversham’s bonnets . . . are they at all better?

LORD CAVERSHAM. They have had a serious relapse, I am sorry to say.

LORD GORING. Good morning, Miss Mabel!

MABEL CHILTERN. [_To_ LORD CAVERSHAM.] I hope an operation will not be necessary.

LORD CAVERSHAM. [_Smiling at her pertness_.] If it is, we shall have to give Lady Caversham a narcotic. Otherwise she would never consent to have a feather touched.

LORD GORING. [_With increased emphasis_.] Good morning, Miss Mabel!

MABEL CHILTERN. [_Turning round with feigned surprise_.] Oh, are you here? Of course you understand that after your breaking your appointment I am never going to speak to you again.

LORD GORING. Oh, please don’t say such a thing. You are the one person in London I really like to have to listen to me.

MABEL CHILTERN. Lord Goring, I never believe a single word that either you or I say to each other.

LORD CAVERSHAM. You are quite right, my dear, quite right . . . as far as he is concerned, I mean.

MABEL CHILTERN. Do you think you could possibly make your son behave a little better occasionally? Just as a change.

LORD CAVERSHAM. I regret to say, Miss Chiltern, that I have no influence at all over my son. I wish I had. If I had, I know what I would make him do.

MABEL CHILTERN. I am afraid that he has one of those terribly weak natures that are not susceptible to influence.

LORD CAVERSHAM. He is very heartless, very heartless.

LORD GORING. It seems to me that I am a little in the way here.

MABEL CHILTERN. It is very good for you to be in the way, and to know what people say of you behind your back.

LORD GORING. I don’t at all like knowing what people say of me behind my back. It makes me far too conceited.

LORD CAVERSHAM. After that, my dear, I really must bid you good morning.

MABEL CHILTERN. Oh! I hope you are not going to leave me all alone with Lord Goring? Especially at such an early hour in the day.

LORD CAVERSHAM. I am afraid I can’t take him with me to Downing Street. It is not the Prime Minster’s day for seeing the unemployed.

[_Shakes hands with_ MABEL CHILTERN, _takes up his hat and stick_, _and goes out_, _with a parting glare of indignation at_ LORD GORING.]

MABEL CHILTERN. [_Takes up roses and begins to arrange them in a bowl on the table_.] People who don’t keep their appointments in the Park are horrid.

LORD GORING. Detestable.

MABEL CHILTERN. I am glad you admit it. But I wish you wouldn’t look so pleased about it.

LORD GORING. I can’t help it. I always look pleased when I am with you.

MABEL CHILTERN. [_Sadly_.] Then I suppose it is my duty to remain with you?

LORD GORING. Of course it is.

MABEL CHILTERN. Well, my duty is a thing I never do, on principle. It always depresses me. So I am afraid I must leave you.

LORD GORING. Please don’t, Miss Mabel. I have something very particular to say to you.

MABEL CHILTERN. [_Rapturously_.] Oh! is it a proposal?

LORD GORING. [_Somewhat taken aback_.] Well, yes, it is—I am bound to say it is.

MABEL CHILTERN. [_With a sigh of pleasure_.] I am so glad. That makes the second to-day.

LORD GORING. [_Indignantly_.] The second to-day? What conceited ass has been impertinent enough to dare to propose to you before I had proposed to you?

MABEL CHILTERN. Tommy Trafford, of course. It is one of Tommy’s days for proposing. He always proposes on Tuesdays and Thursdays, during the Season.

LORD GORING. You didn’t accept him, I hope?

MABEL CHILTERN. I make it a rule never to accept Tommy. That is why he goes on proposing. Of course, as you didn’t turn up this morning, I very nearly said yes. It would have been an excellent lesson both for him and for you if I had. It would have taught you both better manners.

LORD GORING. Oh! bother Tommy Trafford. Tommy is a silly little ass. I love you.

MABEL CHILTERN. I know. And I think you might have mentioned it before. I am sure I have given you heaps of opportunities.

LORD GORING. Mabel, do be serious. Please be serious.

MABEL CHILTERN. Ah! that is the sort of thing a man always says to a girl before he has been married to her. He never says it afterwards.

LORD GORING. [_Taking hold of her hand_.] Mabel, I have told you that I love you. Can’t you love me a little in return?

MABEL CHILTERN. You silly Arthur! If you knew anything about . . . anything, which you don’t, you would know that I adore you. Every one in London knows it except you. It is a public scandal the way I adore you. I have been going about for the last six months telling the whole of society that I adore you. I wonder you consent to have anything to say to me. I have no character left at all. At least, I feel so happy that I am quite sure I have no character left at all.

LORD GORING. [_Catches her in his arms and kisses her_. _Then there is a pause of bliss_.] Dear! Do you know I was awfully afraid of being refused!

MABEL CHILTERN. [_Looking up at him_.] But you never have been refused yet by anybody, have you, Arthur? I can’t imagine any one refusing you.

LORD GORING. [_After kissing her again_.] Of course I’m not nearly good enough for you, Mabel.

MABEL CHILTERN. [_Nestling close to him_.] I am so glad, darling. I was afraid you were.

LORD GORING. [_After some hesitation_.] And I’m . . . I’m a little over thirty.

MABEL CHILTERN. Dear, you look weeks younger than that.

LORD GORING. [_Enthusiastically_.] How sweet of you to say so! . . . And it is only fair to tell you frankly that I am fearfully extravagant.

MABEL CHILTERN. But so am I, Arthur. So we’re sure to agree. And now I must go and see Gertrude.

LORD GORING. Must you really? [_Kisses her_.]

MABEL CHILTERN. Yes.

LORD GORING. Then do tell her I want to talk to her particularly. I have been waiting here all the morning to see either her or Robert.

MABEL CHILTERN. Do you mean to say you didn’t come here expressly to propose to me?

LORD GORING. [_Triumphantly_.] No; that was a flash of genius.

MABEL CHILTERN. Your first.

LORD GORING. [_With determination_.] My last.

MABEL CHILTERN. I am delighted to hear it. Now don’t stir. I’ll be back in five minutes. And don’t fall into any temptations while I am away.

LORD GORING. Dear Mabel, while you are away, there are none. It makes me horribly dependent on you.

[_Enter_ LADY CHILTERN.]

LADY CHILTERN. Good morning, dear! How pretty you are looking!

MABEL CHILTERN. How pale you are looking, Gertrude! It is most becoming!

LADY CHILTERN. Good morning, Lord Goring!

LORD GORING. [_Bowing_.] Good morning, Lady Chiltern!

MABEL CHILTERN. [_Aside to_ LORD GORING.] I shall be in the conservatory under the second palm tree on the left.

LORD GORING. Second on the left?

MABEL CHILTERN. [_With a look of mock surprise_.] Yes; the usual palm tree.

[_Blows a kiss to him_, _unobserved by_ LADY CHILTERN, _and goes out_.]

LORD GORING. Lady Chiltern, I have a certain amount of very good news to tell you. Mrs. Cheveley gave me up Robert’s letter last night, and I burned it. Robert is safe.

LADY CHILTERN. [_Sinking on the sofa_.] Safe! Oh! I am so glad of that. What a good friend you are to him—to us!

LORD GORING. There is only one person now that could be said to be in any danger.

LADY CHILTERN. Who is that?

LORD GORING. [_Sitting down beside her_.] Yourself.

LADY CHILTERN. I? In danger? What do you mean?

LORD GORING. Danger is too great a word. It is a word I should not have used. But I admit I have something to tell you that may distress you, that terribly distresses me. Yesterday evening you wrote me a very beautiful, womanly letter, asking me for my help. You wrote to me as one of your oldest friends, one of your husband’s oldest friends. Mrs. Cheveley stole that letter from my rooms.

LADY CHILTERN. Well, what use is it to her? Why should she not have it?

LORD GORING. [_Rising_.] Lady Chiltern, I will be quite frank with you. Mrs. Cheveley puts a certain construction on that letter and proposes to send it to your husband.

LADY CHILTERN. But what construction could she put on it? . . . Oh! not that! not that! If I in—in trouble, and wanting your help, trusting you, propose to come to you . . . that you may advise me . . . assist me . . . Oh! are there women so horrible as that . . .? And she proposes to send it to my husband? Tell me what happened. Tell me all that happened.

LORD GORING. Mrs. Cheveley was concealed in a room adjoining my library, without my knowledge. I thought that the person who was waiting in that room to see me was yourself. Robert came in unexpectedly. A chair or something fell in the room. He forced his way in, and he discovered her. We had a terrible scene. I still thought it was you. He left me in anger. At the end of everything Mrs. Cheveley got possession of your letter—she stole it, when or how, I don’t know.

LADY CHILTERN. At what hour did this happen?

LORD GORING. At half-past ten. And now I propose that we tell Robert the whole thing at once.

LADY CHILTERN. [_Looking at him with amazement that is almost terror_.] You want me to tell Robert that the woman you expected was not Mrs. Cheveley, but myself? That it was I whom you thought was concealed in a room in your house, at half-past ten o’clock at night? You want me to tell him that?

LORD GORING. I think it is better that he should know the exact truth.

LADY CHILTERN. [_Rising_.] Oh, I couldn’t, I couldn’t!

LORD GORING. May I do it?

LADY CHILTERN. No.

LORD GORING. [_Gravely_.] You are wrong, Lady Chiltern.

LADY CHILTERN. No. The letter must be intercepted. That is all. But how can I do it? Letters arrive for him every moment of the day. His secretaries open them and hand them to him. I dare not ask the servants to bring me his letters. It would be impossible. Oh! why don’t you tell me what to do?

LORD GORING. Pray be calm, Lady Chiltern, and answer the questions I am going to put to you. You said his secretaries open his letters.

LADY CHILTERN. Yes.

LORD GORING. Who is with him to-day? Mr. Trafford, isn’t it?

LADY CHILTERN. No. Mr. Montford, I think.

LORD GORING. You can trust him?

LADY CHILTERN. [_With a gesture of despair_.] Oh! how do I know?

LORD GORING. He would do what you asked him, wouldn’t he?

LADY CHILTERN. I think so.

LORD GORING. Your letter was on pink paper. He could recognise it without reading it, couldn’t he? By the colour?

LADY CHILTERN. I suppose so.

LORD GORING. Is he in the house now?

LADY CHILTERN. Yes.