UNDER THE ROSE.
(A Story in Scenes.)
SCENE VIII.—A prettily-furnished Drawing-room at the Merridews' House in Hans Place. Time—About 5.30 on Saturday afternoon. Mrs. Merridew has a small tea-table in front of her. Althea is sitting on a couch close by. Both ladies are wearing their hats, having just returned from a drive. Mrs. Merridew is young and attractive, and her frock is in the latest fashion; Althea is more simply dressed, though her hair and toilette have evidently been supervised by an experienced maid.
Mrs. Merridew. I don't think I've ever known the Park so full before Easter as it was to-day. Try one of those hot cakes, Thea, or a jam sandwich—we don't dine till late, you know. It's been so nice having you, I do wish you hadn't to go on Monday—must you?
Althea. I'm afraid I must, Cissie; it has been the most delightful week; only—Clapham will seem dreadfully flat after all this. She sighs.
Mrs. M. Notwithstanding the excitement of Mr. Curphew's conversation?
Alth. Mr. Curphew, Cissie?
Mrs. M. Now don't pretend ignorance, dear. You have quoted Mr. Curphew and his opinions often enough to show that you see and think a good deal of him. And, really, if you colour like that at the mere mention——
Alth. Am I colouring? That last cup was so strong. And I don't see Mr. Curphew at all often. He is more Mamma's friend than mine—she has a very high opinion of him.
Mrs. M. I daresay he deserves it. He's a fearfully learned and superior person, isn't he?
Alth. I—I don't know. He writes for the paper.
Mrs. M. That's vague, dear. What sort of paper? Political, Scientific, Sporting, Society—or what?
Alth. I never asked; but I should think—well, he's rather serious, you know, Cissie.
Mrs. M. Then it's a comic paper, my dear, depend upon it!
Alth. Oh, Cissie, I'm sure it isn't. And he's very hardworking. He's not like most men of his age, he doesn't care in the least for amusements.
Mrs. M. He must be a very lively person. But tell me—you used to tell me everything, THEA—does this immaculate paragon show any signs of——?
Alth. (in a low voice). I'm not sure——Perhaps—but I may be mistaken.
Mrs. M. And if—don't think me horribly impertinent—but if you're not mistaken, have you made up your mind what answer to give him?
Alth. (imploringly). Don't tease me, Cissie. I thought once—but now I really don't know. I wish he wasn't so strict and severe. I wish he understood that one can't always be solemn—that one must have a little enjoyment in one's life, when one is young!
Mrs. M. And yet I seem to remember a girl who had serious searchings of heart, not so very long ago, as to whether it wasn't sinful to go and see Shakspeare at the Lyceum!
Alth. I know; it was silly of me—but I didn't know what a theatre was like. I'd never been to see a play—not even at the Crystal Palace. But now I've been, I'd like to go to one every week; they're lovely, and I don't believe anything that makes you cry and laugh like that can be wicked!
Mrs. M. Ah, you were no more meant to be a little Puritan than I was myself, dear. Heavens! When I think what an abominable prig I must have been at Miss Pruins'.
Alth. You weren't in the least a prig, Cissie. But you were different. You used to say you intended to devote yourself entirely to Humanity.
Mrs. M. Yes; but I didn't realise then what a lot there were of them. And when I met Frank I thought it would be less ambitious to begin with him. Now I find there's humanity enough in Frank to occupy the devotion of a lifetime. But are you sure, Thea, that this journalist admirer of yours is quite the man to—— He sounds dull, dear; admirable and all that—but, oh, so deadly dull!
"Yes; but I didn't realise then what a lot there were of them."
Alth. If he was brilliant and fond of excitement we shouldn't have known him; for we're deadly dull ourselves, Cissie. I never knew how dull till—till I came to stay with you!
Mrs. M. You're not dull, you're a darling; and if you think I'm going to let you throw yourself away on some humdrum plodder who will expect you to find your sole amusement in hearing him prose, you're mistaken; because I shan't. Thea, whatever you do, don't be talked into marrying a Dryasdust; you'll only be miserable if you do!
Alth. But Mr. Curphew isn't as bad as that, Cissie. And—and he hasn't asked me yet, and when he finds out how frivolous I've become, very likely he never will; so we needn't talk about it any more, need we?
Mrs. M. Now I feel snubbed; but I don't care, it's all for your good, my dear, and I've said all I wanted to, so we'll change the subject for something more amusing. (Colonel Merridew comes in.) Well, Frank, have you actually condescended to come in for some tea? (To Althea.) Generally he says tea is all very well for women; and then goes off to his club and has at least two cups, and I daresay muffins.
Col. M. Why not say ham-sandwiches at once, Cecilia, my dear? pity to curb your imagination! (Sitting down.) If that tea's drinkable, I don't know that I won't have a cup; though it's not what I came for. I wanted to know if you'd settled to do anything this evening, because, if not, I've got a suggestion—struck me in the Row just after you'd passed, and I thought I'd come back and see how you felt about it. (He takes his tea.) For me?—thanks.
Mrs. M. We feel curious about it at present. Frank.
Col. M. Well, I thought that, as this is Miss Toovey's last evening with us, it was a pity to waste it at home. Why shouldn't we have a little dinner at the Savoy, eh?—about eight—and drop in somewhere afterwards, if we feel inclined?
Mrs. M. Do you know that's quite a delightful idea of yours, Frank. That is, unless Thea has had enough of gaiety, and would rather we had a quiet evening. Would you, dear? To Althea.
Alth. (eagerly). Oh, no, indeed, Cissie, I'm not a bit tired!
Mrs. M. You're quite sure? But where could we go on afterwards, Frank; shouldn't we be too late for any theatre?
Col. M. I rather thought we might look in at the Eldorado; you said you were very keen to hear Walter Wildfire. (He perceives that his wife is telegraphing displeasure.) Eh? why, you did want me to take you.
Alth. (to herself). Walter Wildfire? why, it was Walter Wildfire that Charles advised Mr. Curphew to go and hear. Mr. Curphew said it was the very last thing he was likely to do. But he's so prejudiced!
Mrs. M. (trying to make her husband understand). Some time—but I think, not to-night, Frank.
Col. M. If it's not to-night you mayn't get another chance; they say he's going to give up singing very soon.
Mrs. M. Oh, I hope not! I remember now hearing he was going to retire, because his throat was weak, or else he was going into Parliament, or a Retreat, or something or other. But I'm sure, Frank, Althea wouldn't quite like to——
Col. M. Then of course there's no more to be said. I only thought she might be amused, you know.
Alth. But indeed I should, Colonel Merridew, please let us go!
Mrs. M. But, Thea, dear, are you sure you quite understand what the Eldorado is?—it's a music-hall. Of course it's all right, and everyone goes nowadays; but, still, I shouldn't like to take you if there was any chance that your mother might disapprove. You might never be allowed to come to us again.
Alth. (to herself). They're both dying to go, I can see; it's too hateful to feel oneself such a kill-joy! And even Mr. Curphew admitted that a music-hall was no worse than a Penny Reading. (Aloud.) I don't think Mamma would disapprove, Cissie; not more than she would of my going to theatres, and I've been to them, you know!
Col. M. We'd have a box, of course, and only just get there in time to hear Wildfire; we could go away directly afterwards, 'pon my word, Cecilia, I don't see any objection, if Miss Toovey would like to go. Never heard a word against Wildfire's singing, and as for the rest, well, you admitted last time there was no real harm in the thing!
Alth. Do say yes, Cissie. I do want to hear this Walter Wildfire so!
Mrs. M. I'm not at all sure that I ought to say anything of the sort, but there—I'll take the responsibility.
Col. M. Then that's settled. We'll take great care of you, Miss Toovey. I'll just go down to the Rag, Cecilia, and send out to get a box. I'll see if I can find someone to make a fourth, and I daresay we shall manage to amuse ourselves. [He goes out.
Mrs. M. Thea. I really don't feel quite happy about this. I think I'll go after Frank and tell him not to get that box after all; he won't have left the house yet. [She attempts to rise.
Alth. No, Cissie, you mustn't, if it's on my account. I won't let you! [She holds her back.
Mrs. M. But, Thea, think. How would you like this Mr. Curphew to know that——?
Alth. (releasing her suddenly). Mr. Curphew! What does it matter to me what Mr. Curphew——? ... There, Colonel Merridew has gone, Cissie, I heard the door shut. It's too late—and I'm glad of it. We shall go to the Eldorado and hear Walter Wildfire after all! [End of Scene VIII.
