Green Stockings Part 16

(GRICE _re-enters through card room. They quickly turn their laughter into sobs and bury their faces in their handkerchiefs_.)

GRICE. (_Coming down_ C.) I have been lingering, my dear Miss Faraday, just to grasp your hand and whisper a word of cheer. Keep up your heart, my dear. Keep up your heart. Remember there are other fish in the sea--big fish. (_Bows and elaborately exits through card room_.)

CELIA. Old fool!--Isn't it a mercy I'm going to escape that sort of thing? There'd be a dozen more if I gave them a chance, but instead of that I'm going with you to Chicago to live and die a spinster with an unawakened soul.

AUNT IDA. (_In a high tragedy tone_) Celia, I have a queer feeling we're not done with this thing yet.

CELIA. Why, of course we are, you dear; the steams.h.i.+p tickets are up in my room and I'm going with you to-morrow when you leave on the noon train. What a brick you've been through it all, Aunt Ida, what a brick!

AUNT IDA. (_Laughing, then recovering herself and endeavoring to be moral. Crossing_ L.) You--you--you must never do it again, Celia.

CELIA. Well, it's hardly the sort of thing one _can_ do _very often_.

AUNT IDA. (_Seriously_) I never would have helped you send that notice to the Times, Celia, if--if--oh, dear. (_Breaks down and laughs.

Severely_) Oh, but I consider your whole att.i.tude _most_ immoral.

CELIA. (_Meekly_) Yes, Aunt Ida. I admit my behavior has been shocking and what a contrast to his. (_Laughs_.)

AUNT IDA. (_Reprovingly_) Celia!

CELIA. Poor Colonel Smith! What harm has he ever done? Was ever a career more blameless? He lifted me down from the shelf. _Dear Colonel Smith!_ He died just at the right moment. _Dear_ Colonel Smith. Oh, you know he was a true soldier. He did his work in silence. Well, peace to his ashes. Dear Colonel Smith! Good gracious, dear, it's getting late. It's time to dress for dinner. (_She seizes_ AUNT IDA _by the arm, gayly whirls her around, crosses and gets her m.u.f.f from table_.)

(_Enter_ PHYLLIS _through morning room_ R. _Runs down_ R. _of sofa, calling, "Celia." They resume att.i.tudes of grief_. AUNT IDA _exits through morning room, holding her handkerchief to her eyes_.)

PHYLLIS. (_Comes_ C. _to_ CELIA) Celia!

CELIA. Yes, dear.

PHYLLIS. I want you to help me. Bobby is frightfully tired. Don't you think that he and I could cut the Admiral's dinner party and dine quietly at home here? You could make it all right with the Admiral, Celia.

(_Enter_ MARTIN, _with salver and card_, L.IE., _leaves door open_.)

CELIA. I'll try, dear. Martin, there will be two for dinner after all.

PHYLLIS. And may we dine in the little morning room here? (_Indicating morning room_.)

CELIA. In the morning room?

PHYLLIS. It will be more snug.

CELIA. Oh, very well, then, Martin. Dinner in the morning room.

(MARTIN _offers card to_ CELIA.) I haven't time to see anyone now.

(_Crosses_ R. _to door_) Who is it?

MARTIN. Colonel James Nugent Vavasour. He was sure that you would consent to see him, Miss, when you saw this card.

CELIA. Vavasour? Vavasour? It's some election business, of course.

Phyllis, it's your affair, after all. Attend to it for me, won't you?

PHYLLIS. Very well. (CELIA _exits_ R. MARTIN _brings the card over to_ PHYLLIS. PHYLLIS _takes card, reads it and utters a cry_) Colonel Smith! Then, then--then? (_Bewildered_) Then he is not dead. It's a mistake. (_Runs to door_ R. _as if to recall_ CELIA.)

MARTIN. It is Colonel Vavasour who has called, Miss. (_Goes up to tea-table, gets tray and dishes_.)

PHYLLIS. But it's Colonel Smith's card. (_Turns card over suddenly_) Oh, it is a message. (_Goes to_ L. _of table_ R., _sits and turns up the lamp_.) Written in a failing hand. (_Reads_) "_Good-bye_. Be kind to my friend, James Nugent Vavasour." (_To_ MARTIN, _who has by now collected the dishes on tray and is below table_ R.) Show Colonel Vavasour in and then ask Miss Faraday to come down as quickly as she can. Just say that it really is important.

MARTIN. Yes, Miss.

(PHYLLIS _comes_ L.C. _quickly and arranges her hair, etc_. MARTIN _re-enters, announcing_ COLONEL VAVASOUR. COLONEL SMITH _enters and stands_. MARTIN _closes door quietly, goes up_ L., _crosses it back, turns on lamp on piano and exits through morning room_.)

SMITH. (_Bowing_) I am speaking to Miss Celia Faraday?

PHYLLIS. (_Holding card in her hand_) Oh, no. I'm her much younger sister, but I have sent for her. Won't you sit down, Colonel Vavasour?

(_Sits_ R. _of_ L. _table_. SMITH _sits_ L.) The card which you sent me proves that your errand is a sad one. I want to ask you to be very gentle in delivering your message to Celia. The news of Colonel Smith's death was first conveyed to her in to-day's "Times."

SMITH. I am not very surprised to hear that.

PHYLLIS. (_Melodramatically_) The bolt fell from a clear sky. She received no telegram, no letter to warn her of the impending destruction of her happiness. (_Places card on table_.)

SMITH. (_Meaningly_) No, indeed. How could she?

PHYLLIS. She was happy. She loved and was loved. (SMITH _turns and looks at her_.) And then in a second comes Fate with its cruel shears----

SMITH. (_Interrupting her_) Excuse me, but do you write for the Sunday papers?

PHYLLIS. No, but I have been listening lately to a great number of election speeches.

SMITH. I quite understand. From them those flowers of eloquence were culled. Please go on.

PHYLLIS. Celia bore the blow with remarkable courage. But now comes your _visit_, which will upset her even more than the news of Colonel Smith's death itself.

SMITH. Yes, Miss Faraday, I am quite sure that it will do that. You have made an appeal to me to deliver my harrowing message as delicately as I can. You can help me not to make mistakes.

PHYLLIS. How?

SMITH. By telling me where the lovers met, when they became engaged--and how it all happened.

PHYLLIS. But you came with Colonel Smith's card and words of recommendation written upon it by his failing hand. Didn't he tell you?

SMITH. Well, you see, he was one of those great-hearted men who never speak about themselves. And towards the end, when he might have spoken, he was singularly comatose.

PHYLLIS. (_Sympathetically_) Poor fellow!