UNDER THE ROSE.
(A Story in Scenes.)
Scene XVII.—The Drawing-room at Hornbeam Lodge. Curphew and Althea are standing at some distance from one another, in evident constraint.
Curphew (sadly). It's only what I expected, and yet—tell me this—is it entirely because of—of what you saw at the Eldorado last Saturday?
Althea. Ah, you know, then! but what does it matter now? I was mistaken—isn't that enough?
Curph. Don't judge me by what you saw of Walter Wildfire. I can do better things than that. I can make you forget him—forget that he ever existed, if only you will trust me!
Alth. (indignantly). Do you really suppose that he—that I—oh, it's too insulting! And you will do no good by disparaging him. The man who could write those songs, and sing them like that——
Curph. (wincing). Don't! I know how they must have struck you. I would have prepared you, if I could. I did try—that afternoon at the station, but I was interrupted. And now it's too late, and the harm's done. But at least you will never see Walter Wildfire again!
Alth. (exasperated). Have I ever said that I wanted to? Why will you persist in talking as if——? Once for all, I can't care for you; whatever I may have thought once, I know now that I can have no sympathy with the sort of life you lead; the pleasures you are content with would not satisfy me; I should want more than you could ever give me. We should have nothing in common—nothing——There, now do you understand?
Curph. Yes, I think I do. I suppose it's natural, and yet—don't think too hardly of me if you can help it. I might have chosen a higher walk than I did, but at least I've kept out of the mire, and now at last I see my way to——But that wouldn't interest you. There, I had better say good-bye: you won't refuse to give me your hand at parting, will you?
[As he takes her hand, Mrs. Toovey enters with Charles, and stands transfixed.
Mrs. Toovey. Althea, don't tell me I'm too late! You have not accepted that man?
Curph. (releasing Althea's hand). On the contrary, I have just had my dismissal, Mrs. Toovey; we were merely saying good-bye.
Mrs. Toov. Thank Heaven! But I knew I could trust my daughter to detect instinctively the designing serpent in wolf's clothing—(correcting herself angrily)—the sheep in dove's plumage, I should say.
Charles (sotto voce). Similes are cheap to-day!
Mrs. Toov. (more angrily still). Well, I know what I mean, and so does he! (Mr. Toovey enters.) And how a person with Mr. Curphew's antecedents could ever have the face to thrust himself into such a household as this——
Mr. Toov. (coming forward). Cornelia, my love! Such language to our dear young friend! Surely, surely, there must be some sad mistake!
Mrs. Toov. There has been indeed, Pa, and so you will say when you hear who and what he really is!
Curph. Mr. Toovey has been quite aware of it for the last week, and was kind enough to say he saw no insuperable objection.
Mrs. Toov. Pa, is this true? You knew who Mr. Curphew was and never told me!
Mr Toov. My dear, I've no more notion who he is, if he's not Mr. Curphew, than a babe un——
Curph. But surely, Sir, you forget our conversation at Clapham Junction this day week? You certainly knew everything then. I thought your nephew had probably——
Charles. I'd no idea of it myself till last Saturday, so it couldn't have been me!
Alth. (impatiently). No idea of what? Who is Mr. Curphew, Papa?
Curph. (to her, in astonishment). But you know! surely you know? What else have we been talking about?
Mr. Toov. (helplessly). I think we might try to be a little more clear, all of us. I do indeed. I'm in a perfect fog myself.
Mrs. Toov. Then, Pa, let me inform you that you have been encouraging the acquaintance of a person who gains his living by singing ribald songs at music-halls under the name of Walter Wildfire!
Alth. (to herself). Walter Wildfire! Then it was——Oh, if I had known!
Mr. Toov. A—a music-hall singer! He! Oh, dear, dear me; how one may be deceived in people!
Curph. Really, Sir, this can hardly be news to you, when you allowed me to send you a box for the Eldorado for the express purpose of——
Mrs. Toov. Don't deny you were sent the box, Pa, because I know better. The question is—what you wanted one at all for?
Mr. Toov. (to himself). There's no occasion to say anything about those shares now! (Aloud.) To be sure. I was sent a ticket, my love; I could not help that, but (drawing himself up) it was not likely that I should compromise myself by visiting such a place, even from the best of motives, and I did not use the ticket myself, though I believe some other person did.
Mrs. Toov. (in some distress). Well, well, never mind that now, Pa. What you have to do is to ask this Mr. Wildfire to oblige us all by walking out of this house—for ever.
Curph. I should not have stayed so long as this, only I hoped that Mr. Toovey at least would have done me the justice—— However, I've nothing to keep me here any longer now.
[He moves towards the door.
Alth. (coming forward and intercepting him). Yes, you have—you've me. Oh, do you think I'll let you go like this—now I know? Can't you understand what a difference it makes?
[She clings to his arm.
"Can't you understand what a difference it makes?"
Charles. Bravo, Thea! I always knew you were a sensible girl!
Curph. (utterly bewildered). Then you weren't—you don't——? I wonder if I can be awake!
Mrs. Toov. Althea, if you had the remotest conception of what a music-hall singer is, you would never——
Alth. I know what Mr. Curphew is, Mamma. He is a great artist, a genius; he can hold a mixed crowd of careless people spell-bound while he sings, make them laugh, cry, shudder, just as he chooses, and whatever he does is all so natural and human and real, and—oh, I can't put it into proper words, but one goes away thinking better of the whole world after it—and to hear him treated as if he were some outcast—oh, I can't bear it!
[She breaks down.
Curph. (to himself). I don't care what happens now. They can't take this away!
Mrs. Toov. Upon my word! And pray where did you learn all this about Mr. Wildfire's performances?
Alth. (boldly). Where, Mamma? Why, at the Eldorado, last Saturday evening.
[Sudden collapse of Mrs. Toovey.
Mr. Toov. (electrified). A daughter of mine at the Eldorado! Thea, my child, you can't know what you are talking about; look at the effect on your poor mother!
Alth. (desperately). But indeed, Papa, there was no harm in it, I went with the Merridews. And—and I may be mistaken, of course, but I—I thought I saw Mamma there too!
[Sensation.
Charles. Oh, I say, Thea; aren't you coming it rather strong? Aunt at the Eldorado! Why, Aunt thought Uncle was there!
Mr. Toov. Cornelia, my love, don't pay any attention to her; the child must be stark staring mad to say such things. It's bad enough that she should have gone; but to think of you in such a scene! (To Althea.) Why, it was that very Saturday evening that your dear mother went to the Zenana Meeting at Mrs. Cumberbatch's—yes, to be sure. (To Mrs. T.) You remember, my dear, how you came home so late, in a cab the driver had been smoking in, and how the moment you entered the room I——
Mrs. Toov. (hastily). My dear Theophilus, I remember the circumstances perfectly, but I should not condescend to answer so preposterous a charge; especially when it is my own daughter who brings it!
Alth. (in distress). But indeed I don't Mamma. I only fancied it might have been you, and of course, if you were at the Cumberbatches——
Mrs. Toov. (to herself). I must put a stop to this once and for all. (Aloud.) If I was at the Cumberbatches! When your father has just told you I was there—really, Althea! Did I hear wheels outside? Just look, Pa. I haven't seen my spectacles since Saturday.
Mr. Toov. (at the window). Why, really, my love, it does seem to be a carriage, indeed. I wonder who can be calling at such a——Now, it's quite a coincidence, truly—it's dear Mrs. Cumberbatch! I hope she'll come in, because I really think it's a duty to warn her against employing that particular cabman again. A driver who permits himself to smoke inside his own vehicle to that extent——
[Mrs. Toovey makes ineffectual efforts to speak.
Alth. (in a whisper, to Curphew). Do look at Mamma! You don't think she could really——?
Curph. I don't know what to think yet; but we shall all know in a very few seconds now.
[The hall-door is heard to open; Mrs. Toovey attempts to rise, but has to remain in her seat, dumb and paralysed.
End of Scene XVII.
LOBENGULA'S LETTER-BAG.
(Post-mark, Regent's Park.) Shall be glad to engage you for the Gardens. You will be expected to look after the elephants and to make yourself generally useful with the lions and tigers. As the Christmas holidays are approaching, perhaps you might invent a little comic scene with the crocodiles. A similar feature was supplied years ago by the French sailor in charge of the seals with much effect. Of course we shall be glad if your knowledge of the idiosyncrasies of the ourang-outang enables you to suggest anything that could be worked up into a comic interlude. Please bear in mind that the Gardens want waking up, and you have a big opportunity. You would have Sunday off every other week. The Gardens would reserve to themselves the right of regulating your costume. Your boots and straw-hat may be ample in Africa, but in the Regent's Park would be considered inappropriate. We think we can clothe you in the very thing, if we can find a size large enough for you. It is called "the boy's home-for-the-holidays lounging suit," and is largely advertised. Shall expect you by next boat.
(Post-mark, Westminster). Glad to engage you for a month certain, with power to increase the time to six weeks or longer. Could you bring with you a pugilistic hippopotamus? It must be a young one, as there is not much room for any side-shows. If you can jump, and don't mind water, so much the better. If you would leap from the organ-loft into a tank on to the stage, carrying on your back the boxing-kangaroo, the feat might be accepted, and prove a feature. Think this over on the journey to England. Perhaps something may occur to you. If so, mind that we are deeply respected, and are highly popular with the L. C. C. So please let your suggestions be as refined as possible.
(Post-mark, Paternoster Row). Shall be glad to arrange with you for the immediate production of your Recollections. Would be glad if they were written in a bright, chatty style. You might give an account of your connection with literary celebrities, torturers, scientific expeditions, executions, sport in the far East, native war, and other topics of interest that may have come under your personal observation. If you could write up to some electros we have of a comic German Christmas party so much the better. As the success of the book is doubtful, we do not wish to incur unnecessary expense, and therefore would be glad if you could see your way to introducing the following blocks, of which we hold the copyright:—Covent Garden by Moonlight, A Spanish Bull Fight, An Execution in front of the Old Bailey, A Students' Ball in the Quartier Latin, H.R.H. opening a Newly-erected Board-School, Snipe Shooting on the Norfolk Broads, Christmas in a Storm at Sea, Hampstead Heath on Bank Holiday, Portrait of John Wesley, A Lecture on Chemistry at the Royal Polytechnic Institution, Exterior of the new Police Court at Bow Street, An Incident in the Lord Mayor's Show, "Oxford wins," Van Tromp sailing up the Thames, Paris Fashions for February, Christmas Eve—the Last Omnibus, Hop Pickers on the March, The new Uniform of the Grenadier Guards, and the late Fire at the Borough Brewery. We shall be glad if you will put the book in hand at once, as it is scarcely necessary to say that the sale of a work of reminiscences depends to a large extent upon the popularity of its author at the moment of publication. Terms, after the sale of 5000 copies, one penny a volume royalty.
(Post-mark, Drury Lane.) Engage you at once for ten years. Probably shall not require you for more than three or four months, but shall retain you for the rest of the time. May come in useful later on. Place waiting for you in the Pantomime. Minute and a half in English History in twenty minutes. Also comic scene with the Clown. The engagement must have clause allowing transference. Can find places for your wives (if they are really nice ones) in the Transformation Scene. If you can imitate the cries &c., of wild beasts, &c., think I can get you a turn at the Palace. Writing a first-rate part for you in Autumn drama. A sort of gentlemanly demon, who appears in the West End during the first and third Acts, and in the last scene, appears in national costume with a real army and the whole bag of tricks. Bring as many of your army with you as you can. Can find something for them to do until the production of the Autumn drama. Collect a good lot of assegais and other useful props. May see way to working you into the Opera season. If you can sing, can give you a show at a concert. Might do for German series. Terms as per usual. Special arrangement if wanted at Windsor. Come over at once. On second thoughts, remain where you are. Will run over to have a chat. Third, and last thought, come over yourself. Find myself, with my engagements, just now a little pressed for time. Au revoir!
A NOVELTY.
Mr. Cylinder (who always uses his Host's cartridges). "What Powder are these loaded with, my Boy?"
Beater. "Ar doan't rightly know; but ar think they calls it Serdlitz Pooder!"
Coal and Wood.
["That a Board of Conciliation be constituted forthwith, to last for one year at least, consisting of an equal number of coalowners and miners' representatives, fourteen of each."—Terms of the Collieries Strike Conference.]
Hooray for happy harmony so readily restored!
Thanks chiefly to young Rosebery, that shrewd and genial lord.
And Mr. Punch is thankful, for such strikes we can't afford,
That in the Labour platform the newest plank's a Board!
AN ORNITHOLOGICAL OUTBURST.
["A specimen of the rare white-tailed eagle has just been shot at Bude Haven, Cornwall."—Daily Paper, Nov. 24.]
Ah! shades of Yarrell, Morris, Bewick, Wood,
Swoop down from Nephelococcygian eyrie
With legions of bird-phantoms,
Roc-ghosts and spectral bantams,
And venge the Vandal sporting-man's vagary,
Wrought on your race in Cornwall's bay of Bude!
A Haliaëtus he's done to death!
Haunt him and harry, ossifrage and osprey!
Hoot, owl! Croak havoc, raven!
He of that wave-beat haven
Should—like the Ancient, of the Albatross—pray
For tardy pardon till his latest breath!
Soon will the Sea-earn join the vanished band
Of Garefowl, Æpyornis, Dodo, Moa!
And e'en the merry mavis
Will rank as rara avis—
The sparrow, sole of all that sailed with Noah,
Will learn the casual pot-shot to withstand!
Why surely, when rare birds are rarer made
By 'Arry, or by 'Arriet's hat-adorner,
These gentry should be tethered
To posts, and tarred and feathered!
To see the balance thus redressed a mourner
Would not be he who has these lines essayed!
A DISCUSSION ON WOMAN'S RIGHTS.
"A—I've no doubt you're quite right in Theory, Lady Hypatia. But I'm afraid that in Practice the World at large won't agree with you." "Won't it? Then it oughtn't to be at large!"