The Red House Mystery and Other Novels. A. A. Milne
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past, or_ (2) _is in love with her himself. He is, however, thinking of a different play. We shall come to that one in a moment._)
~Henry~ (_in a slightly dashing manner_). Little Isobel? Lucky dog!
~George.~ I wish I could think so. (_Sighs._) But I have yet to approach her, and she may be another's. (_Fiercely._) Heavens, Henry, if she should be another's!
_Enter_ Isobel.
~Isobel~ (_brightly_). So I've run you to earth at last. Now what have you got to say for yourselves?
~Henry~ (_like a man_). By Jove! (_Looking at his watch._) I had no idea--is it really--poor old Joe--waiting----
(_Dashes out tactfully in a state of incoherence._)
~George~ (_rising and leading_ Isobel _to the front of the stage_). Miss Barley, now that we are alone I have something I want to say to you.
~Isobel~ (_looking at her watch_). Well, you must be quick. Because I'm engaged.
(_George drops her hand and staggers away from her._)
~Isobel.~ Why, what's the matter?
~George~ (_to the audience, in a voice expressing the very deeps of emotion_). Engaged! She is engaged! I am too late!
(_He sinks into a chair, and covers his face with his hands._)
~Isobel~ (_surprised_). Mr. Turnbull! What has happened?
~George~ (_waving her away with one hand_). Go! Leave me! I can bear this best alone. (_Exit Isobel._) Merciful heavens, she is plighted to another.
_Enter_ Henry.
~Henry~ (_eagerly_). Well, old man?
~George~ (_raising a face white with misery--that is to say, if he has remembered to put the French chalk in the palms of his hands_). Henry, I am too late! She is another's!
~Henry~ (_in surprise_). Whose?
~George~ (_with dignity_). I did not ask her. It is nothing to me. Good-bye, Henry. Be kind to her.
~Henry.~ Why, where are you going?
~George~ (_firmly_). To the Rocky Mountains. I shall shoot some bears. Grizzly ones. It may be that thus I shall forget my grief.
~Henry~ (_after a pause_). Perhaps you are right, George. What shall I tell--her?
~George.~ Tell her--nothing. But should anything (_feeling casually in his pockets_) happen to me--if (_going over them again quickly_) I do not come back, then (_searching them all, including the waist coat ones, in desperate haste_) give her, give her, give her (_triumphantly bringing his handkerchief out of the last pocket_) this, and say that my last thought was of her. Good-bye, my old friend. Good-bye.
(_Exit to Rocky Mountains._)
_Enter_ Isobel.
~Isobel.~ Why, where's Mr. Turnbull?
~Henry~ (_sadly_). He's gone.
~Isobel.~ Gone? Where?
~Henry.~ To the Rocky Mountains. To shoot bears. (_Feeling that some further explanation is needed._) Grizzly ones.
~Isobel.~ But he was _here_ a moment ago.
~Henry.~ Yes, he's only _just_ gone.
~Isobel.~ Why didn't he say good-bye? (_Eagerly._) But perhaps he left a message for me? (_Henry shakes his head._) Nothing? (_Henry bows silently and leaves the room._) Oh! (_She gives a cry and throws herself on the sofa._) And I loved him! George, George, why didn't you speak?
_Enter_ George _hurriedly. He is fully dressed for a shooting expedition in the Rocky Mountains, and carries a rifle under his arm._
* * * * *
~George~ (_to the audience_). I have just come back for my pocket-handkerchief. I must have dropped it in here somewhere. (_He begins to search for it, and in the ordinary course of things comes upon_ Isobel _on the sofa. He puts his rifle down carefully on a table, with the muzzle pointing at the prompter rather than at the audience, and staggers back._) Merciful heavens! Isobel! Dead! (_He falls on his knees beside the sofa._) My love, speak to me!
~Isobel~ (_softly_). George!
~George.~ She is alive! Isobel!
~Isobel.~ Don't go, George!
~George.~ My dear, I love you! But when I heard that you were another's, honour compelled me----
~Isobel~ (_sitting up quickly_). What do you mean by another's?
~George.~ You said you were engaged!
~Isobel~ (_suddenly realising how the dreadful misunderstanding arose which nearly wrecked two lives_). But I only meant I was engaged to play tennis with Lady Carbrook!
~George.~ What a fool I have been! (_He hurries on before the audience can assent._) Then, Isobel, you _will_ be mine?
~Isobel.~ Yes, George. And you won't go and shoot nasty bears, will you, dear? Not even grizzly ones?
~George~ (_taking her in his arms_). Never, darling. That was only (_turning to the audience with the air of one who is making his best point_) ~A slight misunderstanding.~
CURTAIN.
XLII. "MISS PRENDERGAST"
_As the curtain goes up two ladies are discovered in the morning-room of Honeysuckle Lodge engaged in work of a feminine nature._ Miss Alice Prendergast _is doing something delicate with a crochet-hook, but it is obvious that her thoughts are far away. She sighs at intervals and occasionally lays down her work and presses both hands to her heart. A sympathetic audience will have no difficulty in guessing that she is in love. On the other hand, her elder sister_, Miss Prendergast, _is completely wrapped up in a sock for one of the poorer classes, over which she frowns formidably. The sock, however, has no real bearing upon the plot, and she must not make too much of it._
~Alice~ (_hiding her emotions_). Did you have a pleasant dinner-party last night, Jane?
~Jane~ (_to herself_). Seventeen, eighteen, nineteen, twenty. (_Looking up._) Very pleasant indeed, Alice. The Blizzards were there, and the Podbys, and the Slumphs. (_These people are not important and should not be over-emphasised._) Mrs. Podby's maid has given notice.
~Alice.~ Who took you in?
~Jane~ (_brightening up_). Such an interesting man, my dear. He talked most agreeably about Art during dinner, and we renewed the conversation in the drawing-room. We found that we agreed upon all the main principles of Art, considered as such.
~Alice~ (_with a look in her eyes which shows that she is recalling a tender memory_). When I was in Shropshire last week---- What was your man's name?
~Jane~ (_with a warning glance at the audience_). You know how difficult it is to catch names when one is introduced. I am certain he never heard mine. (_As the plot depends partly upon this, she pauses for it to sink in._) But I enquired about him afterwards, and I find that he is a Mr.----
_Enter_ Mary, _the parlourmaid._
~Mary~ (handing letter). A letter for you, Miss.
~Jane~