Delphi complete works of.., p.1036
Delphi Complete Works of William Dean Howells, page 1036
Miss Ramsey, after some moments of snubbing intention: “I don’t know what I am going to do myself, yet. Or how. What was that play? I never heard of it.”
Miss Garnett: “I don’t remember distinctly, but it was about a young man who falls in love with her, when he’s engaged to another girl, and she determines, as soon as she finds it out, to disgust him, so that he will go back to the other girl, don’t you know.”
Miss Ramsey: “That sounds rather more practical than the Peg Woffington plan. What does she do?”
Miss Garnett: “Nothing you’d like to do.”
Miss Ramsey: “I’d like to do something in such a cause. What does she do?”
Miss Garnett: “Oh, when he is calling on her, Kentucky Summers pretends to fly into a rage with her sister, and she pulls her hair down, and slams everything round the room, and scolds, and drinks champagne, and wants him to drink with her, and I don’t know what all. The upshot is that he is only too glad to get away.”
Miss Ramsey: “It’s rather loathsome, isn’t it?”
Miss Garnett: “It is rather loathsome. But it was in a good cause, and I suppose it was what an actress would think of.”
Miss Ramsey: “An actress?”
Miss Garnett: “I forgot. The heroine is a distinguished actress, you know, and Kentucky could play that sort of part to perfection. But I don’t think a lady would like to cut up, much, in the best cause.”
Miss Ramsey: “Cut up?”
Miss Garnett: “She certainly frisks about the room a good deal. How delicious these mallows are! Have you ever tried toasting them?”
Miss Ramsey: “At school. There seems an idea in it. And the hero isn’t married. I don’t like the notion of a married man.”
Miss Garnett: “Oh, I’m quite sure he isn’t married. He’s merely engaged. That makes the whole difference from the Peg Woffington story. And there’s no portrait, I’m confident, so that you wouldn’t have to do that part.”
Miss Ramsey, haughtily: “I don’t propose to do any part, if the affair can’t be arranged without some such mountebank business!”
Miss Garnett: “You can manage it, if anybody can. You have so much dignity that you could awe him into doing his duty by a single glance. I wouldn’t be in his place!”
Miss Ramsey: “I shall not give him a glance. I shall not see him when he comes. That will be simpler still.” To Nora, at the door: “What is it, Nora?”
II
NORA, MISS RAMSEY, MISS GARNETT
Nora: “Mr. Ashley, Miss Ramsey.”
Miss Ramsey, with a severity not meant for Nora: “Ask him to sit down in the reception-room a moment.”
Nora: “Yes, Miss Ramsey.”
III
MISS RAMSEY, MISS GARNETT
Miss Garnett, rising and seizing Miss Ramsey’s hands: “Oh, Isobel! But you will be equal to it! Oh! Oh!”
Miss Ramsey, with state: “Why are you going, Esther? Sit down.”
Miss Garnett: “If I only could stay! If I could hide under the sofa, or behind the screen! Isn’t it wonderful — providential — his coming at the very instant? Oh, Isobel!” She clasps her friend convulsively, and after a moment’s resistance Miss Ramsey yields to her emotion, and they hide their faces in each other’s neck, and strangle their hysteric laughter. They try to regain their composure, and then abandon the effort with a shuddering delight in the perfection of the incident. “What shall you do? Shall you trust to inspiration? Shall you make him show his hand first, and then act? Or shall you tell him at once that you know all, and — Or no, of course you can’t do that. He’s not supposed to know that you know. Oh, I can imagine the freezing hauteur that you’ll receive him with, and the icy indifference you’ll let him understand that he isn’t a persona grata with! If I were only as tall as you! He isn’t as tall himself, and you can tower over him. Don’t sit down, or bend, or anything; just stand with your head up, and glance carelessly at him under your lashes as if nobody was there! Then it will gradually dawn upon him that you know everything, and he’ll simply go through the floor.” They take some ecstatic turns about the room, Miss Ramsey waltzing as gentleman. She abruptly frees herself.
Miss Ramsey: “No. It can’t be as tacit as all that. There must be something explicit. As you say, I must do something to cure him of his fancy — his perfidy — and make him glad to go back to her.”
Miss Garnett: “Yes! Do you think he deserves it?”
Miss Ramsey: “I’ve no wish to punish him.”
Miss Garnett: “How noble you are! I don’t wonder he adores you. I should. But you won’t find it so easy. You must do something drastic. It is drastic, isn’t it? or do I mean static? One of those things when you simply crush a person. But now I must go. How I should like to listen at the door! We must kiss each other very quietly, and I must slip out — Oh, you dear! How I long to know what you’ll do! But it will be perfect, whatever it is. You always did do perfect things.” They knit their fingers together in parting. “On second thoughts I won’t kiss you. It might unman you, and you need all your strength. Unman isn’t the word, exactly, but you can’t say ungirl, can you? It would be ridiculous. Though girls are as brave as men when it comes to duty. Good-by, dear!” She catches Miss Ramsey about the neck, and pressing her lips silently to her cheek, runs out. Miss Ramsey rings and the maid appears.
IV
NORA, MISS RAMSEY
Miss Ramsey, starting: “Oh! Is that you, Nora? Of course! Nora!”
Nora: “Yes, Miss Ramsey.”
Miss Ramsey: “Do you know where my brother keeps his cigarettes?”
Nora: “Why, in his room, Miss Ramsey; you told him you didn’t like the smell here.”
Miss Ramsey: “Yes, yes. I forgot. And has he got any cocktails?”
Nora: “He’s got the whole bottle full of them yet.”
Miss Ramsey: “Full yet?”
Nora: “You wouldn’t let him offer them to the gentlemen he had to lunch, last week, because you said—”
Miss Ramsey: “What did I say?”
Nora: “They were vulgar.”
Miss Ramsey: “And so they are. And so much the better! Bring the cigarettes and the bottle and some glasses here, Nora, and then ask Mr. Ashley to come.” She walks away to the window, and hurriedly hums a musical comedy waltz, not quite in tune, as from not remembering exactly, and after Nora has tinkled in with a tray of glasses she lights a cigarette and stands puffing it, gasping and coughing a little, as Walter Ashley enters. “Oh, Mr. Ashley! Sorry to make you wait.”
V
MR. ASHLEY, MISS RAMSEY
Mr. Ashley: “The time has seemed long, but I could have waited all day. I couldn’t have gone without seeing you, and telling you—” He pauses, as if bewildered at the spectacle of Miss Ramsey’s resolute practice with the cigarette, which she now takes from her lips and waves before her face with innocent recklessness.
Miss Ramsey, chokingly: “Do sit down.” She drops into an easy-chair beside the tea-table, and stretches the tips of her feet out beyond the hem of her skirt in extremely lady-like abandon. “Have a cigarette.” She reaches the box to him.
Ashley: “Thank you. I won’t smoke, I believe.” He stands frowning, while she throws her cigarette into a teacup and lights another.
Miss Ramsey: “I thought everybody smoked. Then have a cocktail.”
Ashley: “A what?”
Miss Ramsey: “A cocktail. So many people like them with their tea, instead of rum, you know.”
Ashley: “No, I didn’t know.” He regards her with amaze, rapidly hardening into condemnation.
Miss Ramsey: “I hope you don’t object to smoking. Englishwomen all smoke.”
Ashley: “I think I’ve heard. I didn’t know that American ladies did.”
Miss Ramsey: “They don’t, all. But they will when they find how nice it is.”
Ashley: “And do Englishwomen all drink cocktails?”
Miss Ramsey: “They will when they find how nice it is. But why do you keep standing? Sit down, if it’s only for a moment. There is something I would like to talk with you about. What were you saying when you came in? I didn’t catch it quite.”
Ashley: “Nothing — now—”
Miss Ramsey: “And I can’t persuade you to have a cocktail? I believe I’ll have another myself.” She takes up the bottle, and tries several times to pour from it. “I do believe Nora’s forgotten to open it! That is a good joke on me. But I mustn’t let her know. Do you happen to have a pocket-corkscrew with you, Mr. Ashley?”
Ashley: “No—”
Miss Ramsey: “Well, never mind.” She tosses her cigarette into the grate, and lights another. “I wonder why they always have cynical persons smoke, on the stage? I don’t see that the two things necessarily go together, but it does give you a kind of thrill when they strike a match, and it lights up their faces when they put it to the cigarette. You know something good and wicked is going to happen.” She puffs violently at her cigarette, and then suddenly flings it away and starts to her feet. “Will you — would you — open the window?” She collapses into her chair.
Ashley, springing toward her: “Miss Ramsey, are you — you are ill!”
Miss Ramsey: “No, no! The window! A little faint — it’s so close — There, it’s all right now. Or it will be — when — I’ve had — another cigarette.” She leans forward to take one; Ashley gravely watches her, but says nothing. She lights her cigarette, but, without smoking, throws it away. “Go on.”
Ashley: “I wasn’t saying anything!”
Miss Ramsey: “Oh, I forgot. And I don’t know what we were talking about myself.” She falls limply back into her chair and closes her eyes.
Ashley: “Sha’n’t I ring for the maid? I’m afraid—”
Miss Ramsey, imperiously: “Not at all. Not on any account.” Far less imperiously: “You may pour me a cup of tea if you like. That will make me well. The full strength, please.” She motions away the hot-water jug with which he has proposed qualifying the cup of tea which he offers her.
Ashley: “One lump or two?”
Miss Ramsey: “Only one, thank you.” She takes the cup.
Ashley, offering the milk: “Cream?”
Miss Ramsey: “A drop.” He stands anxiously beside her while she takes a long draught and then gives back the cup. “That was perfect.”
Ashley: “Another?”
Miss Ramsey: “No, that is just right. Now go on. Or, I forgot. You were not going on. Oh dear! How much better I feel. There must have been something poisonous in those cigarettes.”
Ashley: “Yes, there was tobacco.”
Miss Ramsey: “Oh, do you think it was the tobacco? Do throw the whole box into the fire! I shall tell Bob never to get cigarettes with tobacco in them after this. Won’t you have one of the chocolates? Or a mallow? I feel as if I should never want to eat anything again. Where was I?” She rests her cheek against the side of her chair cushion, and speaks with closed eyes, in a weak murmur. Mr. Ashley watches her at first with anxiety, then with a gradual change of countenance until a gleam of intelligence steals into his look of compassion.
Ashley: “You asked me to throw the cigarettes into the fire. But I want you to let me keep them.”
Miss Ramsey, with wide-flung eyes: “You? You said you wouldn’t smoke.”
Ashley, laughing: “May I change my mind? One talks better.” He lights a cigarette. “And, Miss Ramsey, I believe I will have a cocktail, after all.”
Miss Ramsey: “Mr. Ashley!”
Ashley, without noting her protest: “I had forgotten that I had a corkscrew in my pocket-knife. Don’t trouble yourself to ring for one.” He produces the knife and opens the bottle; then, as Miss Ramsey rises and stands aghast, he pours out a glass and offers it to her, with mock devotion. As she shakes her head and recoils: “Oh! I thought you liked cocktails. They are very good after cigarettes — very reviving. But if you won’t—” He tosses off the cocktail and sets down the glass, smacking his lips. “Tell your brother I commend his taste — in cocktails and” — puffing his cigarette— “tobacco. Poison for poison, let me offer you one of my cigarettes. They’re milder than these.” He puts his hand to his breast pocket.
Miss Ramsey, with nervous shrinking: “No—”
Ashley: “It’s just as well. I find that I hadn’t brought mine with me.” After a moment: “You are so unconventional, so fearless, that I should like your notion of the problem in a book I’ve just been reading. Why should the mere fact that a man is married to one woman prevent his being in love with another, or half a dozen others; or vice versa?”
Miss Ramsey: “Mr. Ashley, do you wish to insult me?”
Ashley: “Dear me, no! But put the case a little differently. Suppose a couple are merely engaged. Does that fact imply that neither has a right to a change of mind, or to be fancy free to make another choice?”
Miss Ramsey, indignantly: “Yes, it does. They are as sacredly bound to each other as if they were married, and if they are false to each other the girl is a wretch, and the man is a villain! And if you think anything I have said can excuse you for breaking your engagement, or that I don’t consider you the wickedest person in the world, and the most barefaced hypocrite, and — and — I don’t know what — you are very much mistaken.”
Ashley: “What in the world are you talking about?”
Miss Ramsey: “I am talking about you and your shameless perfidy.”
Ashley: “My shameless perf — I don’t understand! I came here to tell you that I love you—”
Miss Ramsey: “How dare you! To speak to me of that, when — Or perhaps you have broken with her, and think you are free to hoodwink some other poor creature. But you will find that you have chosen the wrong person. And it’s no excuse for you her being a little — a little — not so bright as some girls, and not so good-looking. Oh, it’s enough to make any girl loathe her own looks! You mustn’t suppose you can come here red-handed — yes, it’s the same as a murder, and any true girl would say so — and tell me you care for me. No, Walter Ashley, I haven’t fallen so low as that, though I have the disgrace of your acquaintance. And I hope — I hope — if you don’t like my smoking, and offering you cocktails, and talking the way I have, it will be a lesson to you. And yes! — I will say it! If it will add to your misery to know that I did respect you very much, and thought everything — very highly — of you, and might have answered you very differently before, when you were free to tell me that — now I have nothing but the utmost abhorrence — and — disapproval of you. And — and — Oh, I don’t see how you can be so hateful!” She hides her face in her hands and rushes from the room, overturning several chairs in her course toward the door. Ashley remains staring after her, while a succession of impetuous rings make themselves heard from the street door. There is a sound of opening it, and then a flutter of skirts and anxieties, and Miss Garnett comes running into the room.
VI
MISS GARNETT, MR. ASHLEY
Miss Garnett, to the maid hovering in the doorway: “Yes, I must have left it here, for I never missed it till I went to pay my fare in the motor-bus, and tried to think whether I had the exact dime, and if I hadn’t whether the conductor would change a five-dollar bill or not, and then it rushed into my mind that I had left my purse somewhere, and I knew I hadn’t been anywhere else.” She runs from the mantel to the writing-desk in the corner, and then to the sofa, where, peering under the tea-table, she finds her purse on the shelf. “Oh, here it is, Nora, just where I put it when we began to talk, and I must have gone out and left it. I—” She starts with a little shriek, in encountering Ashley. “Oh, Mr. Ashley! What a fright you gave me! I was just looking for my purse that I missed when I went to pay my fare in the motor-bus, and was wondering whether I had the exact dime, or the conductor could change a five-dollar bill, and—” She discovers, or affects to discover, something strange in his manner. “What — what is the matter, Mr. Ashley?”
Ashley: “I shall be glad to have you tell me — or any one.”
Miss Garnett: “I don’t understand. Has Isobel—”
Ashley: “Miss Garnett, did you know I was engaged?”
Miss Garnett: “Why, yes; I was just going to congrat—”
Ashley: “Well, don’t, unless you can tell me whom I am engaged to.”
Miss Garnett: “Why, aren’t you engaged to Emily Fray?”
Ashley: “Not the least in the world.”
Miss Garnett, in despair: “Then what have I done? Oh, what a fatal, fatal scrape!” With a ray of returning hope: “But she told me herself that she was engaged! And you were together so much, last summer!” Desperately: “Then if she isn’t engaged to you, whom is she engaged to?”
Ashley: “On general principles, I shouldn’t know, but in this particular instance I happen to know that she is engaged to Owen Brooks. They were a great deal more together last summer.”
Miss Garnett, with conviction: “So they were!” With returning doubt: “But why didn’t she say so?”
Ashley: “I can’t tell you; she may have had her reasons, or she may not. Can you possibly tell me, in return for my ignorance, why the fact of her engagement should involve me in the strange way it seems to have done with Miss Ramsey?”
Miss Garnett, with a burst of involuntary candor: “Why, I did that. Or, no! What’s she been doing?”
Ashley: “Really, Miss Garnett—”
Miss Garnett: “How can I tell you anything, if you don’t tell me everything? You wouldn’t wish me to betray confidence?”
Ashley: “No, certainly not. What was the confidence?”
Miss Garnett: “Well — But I shall have to know first what she’s been doing. You must see that yourself, Mr. Ashley.” He is silent. “Has she — has Isobel — been behaving — well, out of character?”
Ashley: “Very much indeed.”
Miss Garnett: “I expected she would.” She fetches a thoughtful sigh, and for her greater emotional convenience she sinks into an easy-chair and leans forward. “Oh dear! It is a scrape.” Suddenly and imperatively: “Tell me exactly what she did, if you hope for any help whatever.”
