CECILY.
I beg your pardon, Gwendolen, did you say Ernest?
GWENDOLEN.
Yes.
CECILY.
Oh, but it is not Mr. Ernest Worthing who is my guardian. It is his brother—his elder brother.
GWENDOLEN.
[Sitting down again.] Ernest never mentioned to me that he had a brother.
CECILY.
I am sorry to say they have not been on good terms for a long time.
GWENDOLEN.
Ah! that accounts for it. And now that I think of it I have never heard any man mention his brother. The subject seems distasteful to most men. Cecily, you have lifted a load from my mind. I was growing almost anxious. It would have been terrible if any cloud had come across a friendship like ours, would it not? Of course you are quite, quite sure that it is not Mr. Ernest Worthing who is your guardian?
CECILY.
Quite sure. [A pause.] In fact, I am going to be his.
GWENDOLEN.
[Inquiringly.] I beg your pardon?
CECILY.
[Rather shy and confidingly.] Dearest Gwendolen, there is no reason why I should make a secret of it to you. Our little county newspaper is sure to chronicle the fact next week. Mr. Ernest Worthing and I are engaged to be married.
GWENDOLEN.
[Quite politely, rising.] My darling Cecily, I think there must be some slight error. Mr. Ernest Worthing is engaged to me. The announcement will appear in the Morning Post on Saturday at the latest.