Arthur Wing Pinero

“ Colpoys.
[Ridiculously.] She speaks! she hears me!
Ablett.
[Holding his glove before his mouth, convulsed with laughter.] Ho, ho! oh, Mr. Colpoys! oh, reelly, sir! ho, dear!
Gadd.
[To Imogen, darkly.] Colpoys is not nearly as funny as he was last year. Everybody's saying so. We want a low-comedian badly.
[He retires, deposits his hat on the wig-block, and joins Telfer and Tom.]
Colpoys.
[Staggering to Imogen and throwing his arms about her neck.] Ah—h—h! after all these years!
Imogen.
[Pushing him away.] Do be careful of my things, Colpoys!
Original
Ablett. ”

“ She moves away, as Rose Trelawny and Arthur Gower enter. Rose is nineteen, wears washed muslin, and looks divine. She has much of the extravagance of gesture, over-emphasis in speech, and freedom of manner engendered by the theatre, but is graceful and charming nevertheless. ”

“ O'Dwyer——
[O'Dwyer appears; Tom speaks a word or two to him, and hands him the manuscript of the play.]
Imogen.
[To Sir William, falteringly.] And if you are pleased with what you see this morning, perhaps you will attend another——?
Sir William.
[Angrily.] Not I. After to-day I wash my hands of ye. What do plays and players do, coming into my head, disturbing my repose! [More composedly, to Tom, who has returned to his side.] Your comedy has merit, sir. You call it Life. There is a character in it—a young man—not unlike life, not unlike a late member of my family. ”

“ Imogen.
Your Arthur seems nice.
Rose.
Oh, he's a dear. Very young, of course—not much more than a year older than me—than I. But he'll grow manly in time, and have mustaches, and whiskers out to here, he says.
Imogen.
How did you——?
Rose.
He saw me act Blanche in the The Peddler of Marseilles, and fell in love.
Imogen.
Do you prefer Blanche——?
Rose.
To Celestine? Oh, yes. You see, I got leave to introduce a song—where Blanche is waiting for Raphael on the bridge. [Singing, dramatically but in low tones.] "Ever of thee I'm fondly dreaming——"
Imogen. ”

“ Sir William.
[Looking round.] Well, well, well, does no one stir?
Rose.
[Under her breath.] Oh, don't stop it!
[Clara goes out quickly. With a great show of activity Arthur and De Foenix hurry across the room and, when there, do nothing.]
Sir William.
[Coming upon Rose and peering down at her.] What are ye upon the floor for, my dear? Have we no cheers? [To Miss Gower—producing his snuff-box.] Do we lack cheers here, Trafalgar?
Miss Gower.
[Going to Rose.] My dear Rose! [Raising her.] Come, come, come, this is quite out of place! ”

“ It isn't the world we live in, merely a world—such a queer little one! I was less than a month in Cavendish Square, and very few people came there; but they were real people—real! For a month I lost the smell of gas and oranges, and the hurry and noise, and the dirt and the slang, and the clownish joking, at the "Wells." I didn't realize at the time the change that was going on in me; I didn't realize it till I came back. And then, by degrees, I discovered what had happened——
[Tom is now near her. She takes his hand and drops her head upon Avonia's shoulder. Wearily.] ”

“ Are you in pain, dearest? Rose!
Rose.
Agony!
Arthur.
Pinch your upper lip—-
[She sneezes twice, loudly, and sinks back upon the couch.]
Sir William.
[Testily.] Sssh! sssh! sssh! this is to be whist, I hope.
Miss Gower.
Rose! Rose! young ladies do not sneeze quite so continuously. [De Foenix is dealing.]
Sir William.
[With gusto.] I will thank you, Captain de Foenix, to exercise your intelligence this evening to its furthest limit.
De Foenix.
I'll twy, sir.
Sir William.
[Laughing unpleasantly.] He, he, he! last night, sir——
Clara. ”

“ Sir, I—I—you—and—and Rose—are the last persons I expected to meet here——
Sir William.
Ah-h-h—h!
Arthur.
Perhaps you have both already learned, from Mr. Wrench or Miss Parrott, that I have—become—a gypsy, sir?
Sir William.
Not I; [pointing to Tom and Imogen] these—these people have thought it decent to allow me to make the discovery for myself.
[He sinks into the throne-chair. Tom goes to Sir William. Arthur joins Imogen; they talk together rapidly and earnestly.]
Tom.
[To Sir William.] Sir William, the secret of your grandson's choice of a profession——
Sir William. ”

“ She goes from one to the other, round the table, embracing and kissing and crying over them all excitedly. Sarah is kissed, but upon Ablett is bestowed only a handshake, to his evident dissatisfaction. Imogen runs to the piano and strikes up the air of "Ever of Thee." When Rose gets back to the place she mounts her chair, with the aid of Tom and Telfer, and faces them with flashing eyes. They pull the flowers out of the vases and throw them at her. ”

“ Arthur.
I will, I will. Thank you——
[Mrs. Mossop's voice is heard calling "Ablett!" Ablett releases Arthur and goes out. Arthur joins Colpoys and Tom.]
Rose.
[To Imogen.] The carriage will be here in half an hour. I've so much to say to you. Imogen, the brilliant hits you've made! how lucky you have been!
Imogen.
My luck! what about yours?
Rose.
Yes, isn't this a wonderful stroke of fortune for me! Fate, Jenny! that's what it is—Fate! Fate ordains that I shall be a well-to-do fashionable lady, instead of a popular but toiling actress. ”

“ The grate of the fireplace is hidden by an ornament composed of shavings and paper roses. Over the fireplace is a mirror: on each side there is a sideboard cupboard. On the left is a door, and a landing is seen outside. Between the windows stand a cottage piano and a piano stool. Above the sofa, on the left, stands a large black trunk, the lid bulging with its contents and displaying some soiled theatrical finery. On the front of the trunk, in faded lettering, appear the words "Miss Violet Sylvester, Theatre Royal, Drury Lane." ”

“ She picks up the lantern which Charles has deposited upon the floor, and gives it to him.]
Make haste! I'll draw the curtains— [He hurries out. She goes from window to window, dropping the curtains, talking to herself excitedly as she does so.] My friends! my own friends! ah! I'm not to sneeze in this house! nor to sing! or breathe, next! wretches! oh, my! wretches! [Blowing out the candles and removing the candlesticks to the table, singing, under her breath, wildly.] "Ever of thee I'm fondly dreaming——" [Mimicking Sir William again.] ”

“ Poor Mr. and Mrs. Telfer! they still wander mournfully about the "Wells"; they can get nothing to do.
[Carrying her hat and umbrella, she disappears through the curtains.]
Tom.
[To Avonia, in a whisper, across the room.] The Telfers——!
Avonia.
Eh?
Tom.
She's been giving 'em money.
Avonia.
Yes.
Tom.
Damn!
Rose.
[Reappearing.] What are yous saying about me.
Avonia.
I was wondering whether you'd lend me that belt you bought for Ophelia; to wear during the first two or three weeks of the pantomime—-
Rose. ”

“ Rose.
[At the door, turning to them.] 'Vonia—boys—be very still.
Avonia.
Trust us!
[Rose tiptoes out. Colpoys is now at the card-table, cutting a pack of cards which remains there.]
Colpoys.
[To Gadd.] Gadd, I'll see you for pennies.
Gadd.
[Loftily.] Done, sir, with you!
[They seat themselves at the table, and cut for coppers. Tom is walking about, surveying the room.]
Avonia.
[Taking off her hat and wiping it with her handkerchief.] Well, Thomas, what do you think of it?
Tom.
This is the kind of chamber I want for the first act of my comedy——-
Avonia. ”

“ Sir William.
Visits ye——?
Rose.
No.
Sir William.
Comes troubadouring——-?
Rose.
No, no, no. I have not seen him since that night.
I refused to see him——— [With a catch in her breath.] Why, he may be——!
Sir William.
[Fumbling in his pocket.] Ah, but he's not. He's alive [producing a small packet of letters] . Arthur's alive, [advancing to her] and full of his tricks still. His great-aunt Trafalgar receives a letter from him once a fortnight, posted in London——
Rose. ”

“ Why, whenever I find that I am recognized by people, and pointed out—people in the pit of a theatre, in the street, no matter where; and when I can fancy they're saying to each other, "Look! that was Miss Trelawny! you remember—Trelawny! Trelawny of the 'Wells!'"——
[They cry "Trelawny!" and "Trelawny of the 'Wells!'" and again "Trelawny!" wildly. Then there is the sound of a sharp rat-tat at the front door. Imogen leaves the piano and looks out of the window.]
Imogen.
[To somebody below.] What is it?
A Voice.
Miss Trelawny, ma'am. We can't wait.
Rose. ”

“ The card-table is overturned, with a crash, and Avonia utters a long and piercing shriek. Then the house-bells are heard ringing violently.]
Rose.
Oh——! [The combatants part; all look scared. At the door, listening.] They are moving—coming! Turn out the——!
[She turns out the light at the table. The room is in half-light as Sir William enters, cautiously, closely followed by Miss Gower. They are both in dressing-gowns and slippers; Sir William carries a thick stick and his bedroom candle. Rose is standing by a chair; Gadd, Avonia, Colpoys, and Tom are together.] ”

“ He would never call me that. [Reading.] "I am in good bodily health, and as contented as a man can be who has lost the woman he loves, and will love till his dying day—" Ah——!
Sir William.
Read no more! Return them to me! give them to me, ma'am! [Rising, she restores the letters, meekly. He peers up into her face.] What's come to ye? You are not so much of a vixen as you were.
Rose.
[Shaking her head.] No.
Sir William.
[Suspiciously. ] Less of the devil—?
Rose.
Sir William.
I am sorry for having been a vixen, and for all my unruly conduct, in Cavendish Square. ”

“ Rose.
Hush, hush! [Charles goes out laughing. To everybody;] Sherry?
Gadd.
[Rising.] Sherry!
[Avonia, Colpoys; and Gadd gather round the table, and help themselves to sherry and biscuits.]
Rose.
[To Tom.] Tom, won't you——-?
Tom.
[Watching Gadd anxiously.] No, thank you. The fact is, we—we have already partaken of refreshments, once or twice during the evening——
[Colpoys and Avonia, each carrying a glass of wine and munching a biscuit, go to the couch, where they sit.]
Gadd.
[Pouring out sherry—singing.] "And let me the canakin clink, clink—-"
Rose. ”

“ Clara.
[Sinking on to the couch.] How you alarmed me! [Seeing that Rose is laughing, De Foenix comes down to her.]
De Foenix.
[In a low voice.] Might have been a very serwious accident, Miss Trelawny.
Rose.
[Seating herself on the footstool.] Never mind! [Pointing to the chair she has vacated.] Sit down and talk. [He glances at the old people and shakes his head.] Oh, do, do, do! do sit down, and let us all have a jolly whisper. [He sits.] Thank your Captain Fred. Go on! tell me something—anything; something about the military——
De Foenix. ”