Parker. Yes, madam—her ladyship told me she had left a letter for his lordship on the table.
Mrs. Erlynne. A letter for Lord Windermere?
Parker. Yes, madam.
Mrs. Erlynne. Thank you.
[Exit Parker. The music in the ball-room stops.] Gone out of her house! A letter addressed to her husband! [Goes over to bureau and looks at letter. Takes it up and lays it down again with a shudder of fear.] No, no! It would be impossible! Life doesn’t repeat its tragedies like that! Oh, why does this horrible fancy come across me? Why do I remember now the one moment of my life I most wish to forget? Does life repeat its tragedies? [Tears letter open and reads it, then sinks down into a chair with a gesture of anguish.] Oh, how terrible! The same words that twenty years ago I wrote to her father! and how bitterly I have been punished for it! No; my punishment, my real punishment is to-night, is now! [Still seated R.]
[Enter Lord Windermere L.U.E.]
Lord Windermere. Have you said good-night to my wife? [Comes C.]
Mrs. Erlynne. [Crushing letter in her hand.] Yes.
Lord Windermere. Where is she?
Mrs. Erlynne. She is very tired. She has gone to bed. She said she had a headache.