AMOS. To put it clearly: in order to get her unfaithful husband back to London, Mrs. Cleeve would deliberately employ this weak, unhappy woman as a lure.
ST. OLPHERTS. Perhaps Mrs. Cleeve is an unhappy woman.
GERTRUDE. What work for a wife!
ST. OLPHERTS. Wife--nonsense! She is only married to Cleeve.
AMOS. [Walking up and down.] It is proposed that this meeting should take place--when?
ST. OLPHERTS. I have brought Sir Sandford and Mrs. Cleeve with me.
[Pointing towards the outer door.] They are--
AMOS. If I decline?
ST. OLPHERTS. It"s known you leave for Milan at a quarter to nine in the morning; there might be some sort of foolish, inconvenient scene at the station.
AMOS. Surely your Grace--?
ST. OLPHERTS. Oh, no, I shall be in bed at that hour. I mean, between the women, perhaps--and Mr. Cleeve. Come, come, sir, you can"t abduct Mrs. Ebbsmith--nor can we. Nor must you gag her. [AMOS appears angry and perplexed.] Pray be reasonable. Let her speak out for herself-- here, finally--and settle the business. Come, sir, come!
AMOS. [Going to GERTRUDE and speaking in a low voice.] Ask her.
[GERTRUDE goes out.] Cleeve! Where is he while this poor creature"s body and soul are being played for? You have told him she is with us?
ST. OLPHERTS. No, I haven"t.
AMOS. He must suspect it.
ST. OLPHERTS. Well, candidly, Mr. Winterfield, Mr. Cleeve is just now employed in looking for Mrs. Ebbsmith elsewhere.
AMOS. Elsewhere?
ST. OLPHERTS. Sir Sandford recognised that, in his brother"s present mood, the young man"s presence might be prejudicial to the success of these delicate negotiations.
AMOS. So some lie has been told him, to keep him out of the way?
ST. OLPHERTS. Now, Mr. Winterfield--!
AMOS. Good heavens! Duke--forgive me for my roughness--you appear to be fouling your hands, all of you, with some relish!
ST. OLPHERTS. I must trouble you to address remarks of that nature to Sir Sandford Cleeve. I am no longer a prime mover in the affair. I am simply standing by.
AMOS. But how can you "stand by"?
ST. OLPHERTS. Confound it, sir, if you will trouble yourself to rescue people, there is a man to be rescued here as well as a woman; a man, by the way, who is a--a sort of relative of mine.
AMOS. The woman first!
ST. OLPHERTS. Not always. You can rescue this woman in a few weeks"
time; it can make no difference.
AMOS. [Indignantly.] Ah--!
ST. OLPHERTS. Oh, you are angry!
AMOS. I beg your pardon. One word. I a.s.sure your Grace that I truly believe this wretched woman is at a fatal crisis in her life. I believe that if I lose her now there is every chance of her slipping back into a misery and despair out of which it will be impossible to drag her.
Oh, I"ll be perfectly open with you. At this moment we--my sister and I--are not perfectly sure of her. Her affection for this man may still induce her to sacrifice herself utterly for him; she is still in danger of falling to the lowest depth a woman can attain. Come, Duke, don"t help these people. And don"t "stand by!" Help me and my sister. For G.o.d"s sake!
ST. OLPHERTS. My good Mr. Winterfield, believe me or not, I--I positively like this woman.
AMOS. [Gladly.] Ah!
ST. OLPHERTS. She attracts me curiously. And if she wanted a.s.sistance--
AMOS. Doesn"t she?
ST. OLPHERTS. Money--
AMOS. No, no.
ST. OLPHERTS. She should have it. But as for the rest--well--
AMOS. Well?
ST. OLPHERTS. Well sir, you must understand me. It is a failing of mine; I can"t approach women--I never could--in the missionary spirit.
[GERTRUDE re-enters; the men turn to face her.]
AMOS. [To GERTRUDE.] Will she--?
GERTRUDE. Yes. [ST. OLPHERTS limps out of the room, bowing to GERTRUDE as he pa.s.ses.] Oh, Amos!
AMOS. Are we to lose the poor soul after all, Gerty?
GERTRUDE. I--I can"t think so. Oh! but I"m afraid.
[ST. OLPHERTS returns, and SIR SANDFORD CLEEVE enters with SYBIL CLEEVE. SANDFORD is a long, lean, old-young man with a pinched face.
SYBIL is a stately, handsome young woman, beautifully gowned and thickly veiled.]
ST. OLPHERTS. Mrs Thorpe--Mr Winterfield. [SYBIL and SANDFORD bow distantly to GERTRUDE and AMOS.]
AMOS. [To SANDFORD and SYBIL, indicating the settee.] Will you--?
[SYBIL sits on the settee; SANDFORD takes the chair beside her.]
Gertrude--[GERTRUDE goes out.]
SIR SANDFORD. [Pompously.] Mr Winterfield, I find myself engaged on a peculiarly distasteful task.
AMOS. I have no hope, Sir Sandford, that you will not have strength to discharge it.