Part 7 (2/2)

_Lady G_. For Mr Gresham's sake, indeed! What have you done for Mr Gresham's sake that puts me under an obligation to him? However, I suppose we must ask the man to dinner. Is there any address on his card?

_El_. 20 Heavitree Gardens.

_Lady G_. One of those millionaire palaces, I suppose, in the back regions of South Kensington. The carriage is waiting, so I shall leave you to write the invitation. You had better ask him for Tuesday, when we have got some people coming to dinner.

[_Exit_ Lady Gules.

_El_. [_taking up the letter, reads_]. ”Now chiefly occupies himself with works of charity and benevolence. One of his special hobbies is the introduction of aesthetic principles into _Kindergartens_.” How refres.h.i.+ng to meet a man at last who takes a living interest in the welfare of his fellow-creatures! I am sure I shall like him. [ _Writes, and rings the bell_.]

_Enter_ Charles.

_Lady E_. Please put this in the post, Charles. [_Exit_ Charles.] Now I must go and get ready to go out riding with papa, and reconcile him to the dreadful idea of having ”a Radical, a plutocrat, and an infidel” at his dinner-table. [_Exit_ Elaine.

(_A month elapses_.)

SCENE IV.--Lady Gules's Boudoir. Lord and Lady Gules.

_Lord G_. I tell you what it is, my dear--we've only known that fellow Plumper a month, and he has already completely captivated Elaine with his _Kindergarten_, and his sunflowers, and his hatred of the landed interest and Irish coercion, and love of the _cloture_ and humanity, and Buddha and Brahma, and Zoroaster and Mahomet, and all the rest of them. I must really take steps to find out whether Gresham was well informed about his reputed wealth. I shall ride down and take a look at 20 Heavitree Gardens to-morrow. I haven't met a single man at the Club who has ever heard of him.

_Lady G_. It's no use: if he should turn out a pauper, or even a swindler, I am afraid Elaine will marry him. I saw it in her eye last night; and so, I should think, did he. He certainly can't complain of not receiving encouragement. I only wonder that he has not yet proposed.

I believe the man to be capable of any act of audacity, in spite of his languid manner, and his long hair, and short-sightedness, and his stammer.

_Enter_ Elaine.

_Lord G_. Are you coming to ride with me, or going out to drive with your mother, Elaine?

_El_. Neither, dear papa. I am too busy finis.h.i.+ng a paper I am writing on the ”Chiton; or, Clothing for the ma.s.ses on the principles of the ideal of the ancient Greeks,” for the next meeting of the Women's Dress Reform a.s.sociation.

_Lord G_. Well, take care you make them put enough on. Remember the climate, if you ignore other considerations.

_Lady G_. And pray do not so far overstep the bounds of maidenly modesty as to consult your Mr Plumper on the subject.

[_Exit_ Lord _and_ Lady Gules.

_El_. [_sighing_]. My Mr Plumper! Ah, Adolphus, there is not a fibre in our bodies or souls--and why should not souls have fibres?--that does not vibrate in harmony! We are like AEolian harps that make the same music to the same airs of the affections, while electrically our brains respond sympathetically to the same wave-current of idea. Emotionally, intellectually, we are one. Why should I allow an absurd custom of conventional civilisation, degrading to the s.e.x, to prevent my telling him so? What more inherent right can be vested by nature in a woman than that of telling a man that she loves him, and that, therefore, he belongs to her? Hark! his step. My Adolphus!

_Enter_ Adolphus.

_Ad_. I have ventured to kuk-kuk-kuk-call, Lady Elaine, with the pap-pap- pattern I promised of female attire suited to all cla.s.ses; for why should we recognise any did-did-distinction between the folds which drape the form of the aristocrat and the pop-pop-pauper? It is all in kuk-kuk-curves and circles; there is not a straight line about it worn thus. See how graciously it flows! [_Puts his head through a hole in the middle_.] But allow me; your form will do far more justice to it than mine. [_Takes it off and puts it on_ Lady Elaine.] Ah, how divinely precious! [_Gazes with rapture_. Lady Elaine _sits down in it_.]

_El_. Dear Adolphus, why should this strained conventional formality exist any longer between us? Can we not read each other's thoughts? Can we not feel each other's hearts beating in sweet accord? Are we not formed and fas.h.i.+oned for each other? Let this exquisite garment, which we have both worn, be the symbol of that internal robe which costumes our united souls, woven from the texture of our affections.

_Ad_. [_falling on his knees, kisses its hem_]. Sweet symbol of sanctified intuitions! t.i.t-t.i.t-t.i.t-transparent--though it may seem tot- tot-tolerably thick; for does it not reveal to me the workings of the soul of my beb-beb-beloved? Ah, Elaine, how trifling do earthly treasures seem, compared with those of the affections! You will be mine, for ever mine, dud-dud-darling, will you not--even though I may not have the riches I am supposed to possess?

<script>