Plays By John Galsworthy Volume Ii Part 18

SIR WILLIAM. [Raising his clenched fist] What in G.o.d's name is he about?

LADY CHEs.h.i.+RE. What have you said to him?

SIR WILLIAM. Nothing-by a miracle. [He breaks away from the fire and walks up and down] My family goes back to the thirteenth century. Nowadays they laugh at that! I don't! Nowadays they laugh at everything--they even laugh at the word lady. I married you, and I don't .... Married his mother's maid! By George! Dorothy! I don't know what we've done to deserve this; it's a death blow! I'm not prepared to sit down and wait for it. By Gad! I am not. [With sudden fierceness] There are plenty in these days who'll be glad enough for this to happen; plenty of these d---d Socialists and Radicals, who'll laugh their souls out over what they haven't the bowels to sees a--tragedy. I say it would be a tragedy; for you, and me, and all of us. You and I were brought up, and we've brought the children up, with certain beliefs, and wants, and habits. A man's past--his traditions--he can't get rid of them. They're--they're himself! [Suddenly] It shan't go on.

LADY CHEs.h.i.+RE. What's to prevent it?

SIR WILLIAM. I utterly forbid this piece of madness. I'll stop it.

LADY CHEs.h.i.+RE. But the thing we can't stop.

SIR WILLIAM. Provision must be made.

LADY CHEs.h.i.+RE. The unwritten law!

SIR WILLIAM. What! [Suddenly perceiving what she is alluding to]

You're thinking of young--young----[Shortly] I don't see the connection.

LADY CHEs.h.i.+RE. What's so awful, is that the boy's trying to do what's loyal--and we--his father and mother----!

SIR WILLIAM. I'm not going to see my eldest son ruin his life. I must think this out.

LADY CHEs.h.i.+RE. [Beneath her breath] I've tried that--it doesn't help.

SIR WILLIAM. This girl, who was born on the estate, had the run of the house--brought up with money earned from me--nothing but kindness from all of us; she's broken the common rules of grat.i.tude and decency--she lured him on, I haven't a doubt!

LADY CHEs.h.i.+RE. [To herself] In a way, I suppose.

SIR WILLIAM. What! It's ruin. We've always been here. Who the deuce are we if we leave this place? D'you think we could stay? Go out and meet everybody just as if nothing had happened? Good-bye to any prestige, political, social, or anything! This is the sort of business nothing can get over. I've seen it before. As to that other matter--it's soon forgotten--constantly happening--Why, my own grandfather----!

LADY CHEs.h.i.+RE. Does he help?

SIR WILLIAM. [Stares before him in silence-suddenly] You must go to the girl. She's soft. She'll never hold out against you.

LADY CHEs.h.i.+RE. I did before I knew what was in front of her--I said all I could. I can't go again now. I can't do it, Bill.

SIR WILLIAM. What are you going to do, then--fold your hands? [Then as LADY CHEs.h.i.+RE makes a move of distress.] If he marries her, I've done with him. As far as I'm concerned he'll cease to exist. The t.i.tle--I can't help. My G.o.d! Does that meet your wishes?

LADY CHEs.h.i.+RE. [With sudden fire] You've no right to put such an alternative to me. I'd give ten years of my life to prevent this marriage. I'll go to Bill. I'll beg him on my knees.

SIR WILLIAM. Then why can't you go to the girl? She deserves no consideration. It's not a question of morality: Morality be d---d!

LADY CHEs.h.i.+RE. But not self-respect....

SIR WILLIAM. What! You're his mother!

LADY CHEs.h.i.+RE. I've tried; I [putting her hand to her throat] can't get it out.

SIR WILLIAM. [Staring at her] You won't go to her? It's the only chance. [LADY CHEs.h.i.+RE turns away.]

SIR WILLIAM. In the whole course of our married life, Dorothy, I've never known you set yourself up against me. I resent this, I warn you--I resent it. Send the girl to me. I'll do it myself.

With a look back at him LADY CHEs.h.i.+RE goes out into the corridor.

SIR WILLIAM. This is a nice end to my day!

He takes a small china cup from of the mantel-piece; it breaks with the pressure of his hand, and falls into the fireplace.

While he stands looking at it blankly, there is a knock.

SIR WILLIAM. Come in!

FREDA enters from the corridor.

SIR WILLIAM. I've asked you to be good enough to come, in order that--[pointing to chair]--You may sit down.

But though she advances two or three steps, she does not sit down.

SIR WILLIAM. This is a sad business.

FREDA. [Below her breath] Yes, Sir William.

SIR WILLIAM. [Becoming conscious of the depths of feeling before him] I--er--are you attached to my son?

FREDA. [In a whisper] Yes.

SIR WILLIAM. It's very painful to me to have to do this. [He turns away from her and speaks to the fire.] I sent for you--to--ask-- [quickly] How old are you?

FREDA. Twenty-two.

SIR WILLIAM. [More resolutely] Do you expect me to sanction such a mad idea as a marriage?

FREDA. I don't expect anything.

SIR WILLIAM. You know--you haven't earned the right to be considered.

FREDA. Not yet!

SIR WILLIAM. What! That oughtn't to help you! On the contrary. Now brace yourself up, and listen to me!

She stands waiting to hear her sentence. SIR WILLIAM looks at her; and his glance gradually wavers.

SIR WILLIAM. I've not a word to say for my son. He's behaved like a scamp.

FREDA. Oh! no!

SIR WILLIAM. [With a silencing gesture] At the same, time--What made you forget yourself? You've no excuse, you know.

FREDA. No.