The Complete Works of George Bernard Shaw. GEORGE BERNARD SHAW

apologize.”

      “Oh, needless, most needless. Why should they not enjoy themselves? What a landscape! The smiling beauty of nature in the country is like a — like a message to us. This is indeed a delightful drive.”

      “Yes, she is a capital trotter, this mare of mine. What do you think of her?”

      “A noble animal, Jasper. Although I never studied horseflesh much, even in my university days, I can admire a spirited nag on occasion. But I have to content myself with humbler means of locomotion in my own calling. A poor parson cannot entertain his friends as a magnate like you can. Have you any one at the hall now, besides the girls?”

      “No. The place will be rather dull for you, I am afraid.”

      “Not at all, my dear fellow, not at all. I shall be satisfied and thankful under all circumstances.”

      “We have led a humdrum life for the past month. Marian and Elinor have begun to potter about in my laboratory. They come there every day for an hour to work and study, as they call it.”

      “Indeed! I have no doubt Marian will find the study of nature most improving. It is very generous of you to allow her to trespass on you.”

      “I occupy myself chiefly with Nelly McQuinch. Marian is my assistant’s pupil, and he has made a very expert workwoman of her already. With a little direction, she can put a machine together as well as I can.”

      “I am delighted to hear it. And dear Nelly?”

      “Oh, dear Nelly treats the subject in her usual way. But she is very amusing.”

      “Ah, Jasper! Ah! An unstable nature there, an unstable nature! Elinor has not been firmly trained. She needs to be tried by adversity.”

      “No doubt she will be. Most of us are.”

      “And dear Constance? Does she study?”

      “No.”

      “Ahem! A — have you —— ? That is St. Mildred’s yonder, is it not?”

      “It is. They have put a new clock in the tower, worth about sixty pounds. I believe they collected a hundred and fifty for the purpose. But you were going to say something else.”

      “No. At least, I intended to ask you about Marmaduke. He is coming down,

       I understand.”

      “I dont know what he is doing. Last week he wrote to us that he had just returned from Paris; but I happened to know that he had then been back for some time. He has arranged to come twice, but on each occasion, at the last moment, he has made excuses. He can do as he likes now. I wish he would say definitely that he doesnt intend to come, instead of shilly-shallying from week to week. Hallo, Prentice, have the ladies returned yet?” This was addressed to the keeper of the gate-lodge, at which they had now arrived. He replied that the ladies were still absent.

      “Then,” said Lord Carbury, “we had better get down and stroll across the lawn. Perhaps you are tired, though?”

      “Not at all. I should prefer it. What a lovely avenue! What greenery!

       How—”

      “We were talking about Marmaduke. Do you know what he is doing at present? He talks of being busy, and of not having a moment to spare. I can understand a fellow not having a moment to spare in June or July, but what Marmaduke has to do in London in September is more than I can imagine.”

      “I do not care to enquire into these things too closely. I had intended to speak to you on the subject. Marmaduke, as I suppose you know, has taken a house at West Kensington.”

      “A house at West Kensington! No, I did not know it. What has he done that for?”

      “I fear he has been somewhat disingenuous with me on the subject. I think he tried to prevent the matter coming to my ears; and when I asked him about it, he certainly implied — in fact, I grieve to say he left me under the impression that he had taken the house with a view to marrying dear Constance, and settling down. I expressed some surprise at his going so far out of town; but he did not volunteer any further explanation, and so the matter dropped.” The Rev. George paused, and then continued in a lower tone, “Not long afterward I met him at a very late hour. He had perhaps exceeded a little in his cups; for he spoke to me with the most shocking cynicism, inviting me to supper at this house of his, and actually accusing me of knowing perfectly well the terrible truth about his occupation of it. He assured me that she — meaning, I presume, the unhappy person with whom he lives there — was exceptionally attractive; and I have since discovered that she is connected with the theatre, and of great notoriety. I need not tell you how dreadful all this is to me, Jasper; but to the best of my judgment, which I have fortified by earnest prayers for guidance, it is my imperative duty to tell you of it.”

      “The vagabond! It is exactly as I have always said: Constance is too tame for him. He does not care a d — —”

      “Jasper, my dear fellow, gently,” said the clergyman, pressing his arm.

      “Pshaw!” said the Earl, “I dont care. I think Constance is well out of it. Let us drop the subject for the present. I hear the carriage.”

      “Yes, here it is. Dear Lady Carbury has recognized me, and is waving her hand.” The Rev. George stood on tiptoe as he spoke, and flourished his low-crowned soft felt hat.

      During the ensuing greetings Carbury stood silent, looking at the horses with an expression that made the coachman uneasy. At dinner he ate sedulously, and left the task of entertaining the visitor to his mother and the girls. The clergyman was at no loss for conversation. He was delighted with the dinner, delighted with the house, delighted to see the Countess looking so well, and delighted to hear that the tennis party that day had been a pleasant one. The Earl listened with impatience, and was glad when his mother rose. Before she quitted the dining-room he made a sign to her, and she soon returned, leaving Marian, Constance, and Elinor in the drawingroom.

      “You will not mind my staying, I hope, George,” she said, as she resumed her seat.

      “A delightful precedent, and from a distinguished source,” said the Rev.

       George. “Allow me to pass the bottle. Ha! ha!”

      “Thank you, no,” said the Countess. “I never take wine.” Her tone was inconclusive, as if she intended to take something else.

      “Will you take brandy-and-soda?” said her son, rather brusquely.

      Lady Carbury lowered her eyelids in protest. Then she said: “A very little, if you please, Jasper. I dare not touch wine,” she continued to the clergyman. “I am the slave of my medical man in all matters relating to my unfortunate digestion.”

      “Mother,” said Jasper, “George has brought us a nice piece of news concerning your pet Marmaduke.”

      The clergyman became solemn and looked steadily at his glass.

      “I do not know that it is fair to describe him as my pet exactly,” said the Countess, a little troubled. “I trust there is nothing unpleasant the matter.”

      “Oh, nothing! He has settled down domestically in a mansion at West

       Kensington, that is all.”

      “What! Married!”

      “Unhappily,” said the Rev. George, “no, not married.”

      “Oh!” said the Countess slowly, as an expression of relief. “It is very shocking, of course; very wrong indeed. Young men will do these things. It is especially foolish in Marmaduke’s case, for he really cannot afford to make any settlement such as this kind of complication usually involves when the time comes for getting rid of it. Pray do not let it come to Constance’s ears. It is not a proper subject for a girl.”

      “Quite as proper a subject as marriage with a fellow like Marmaduke,” said Jasper, rising coolly and lighting a cigaret. “However, it will be time enough to trouble about