Lyre and Lancet: A Story in Scenes. Anstey F.

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      Lady Cantire. You think so? But I should hardly call myself an acquaintance.

      Spurrell (to himself). Old cat's trying to back out of it now; she shan't, though! (Aloud.) Oh, then I suppose you know Sir Rupert best?

      Lady Cantire. Yes, I certainly know Sir Rupert better.

      Spurrell (to himself). Oh, you do, do you? We'll see. (Aloud.) Nice cheery old chap, Sir Rupert, isn't he? I must tell him I travelled down in the same carriage with a particular friend of his. (To himself.) That'll make her sit up!

      Lady Cantire. Oh, then you and my brother Rupert have met already?

      Spurrell (aghast). Your brother! Sir Rupert Culverin your – ! Excuse me – if I'd only known, I – I do assure you I never should have dreamt of saying – !

      Lady Cantire (graciously). You've said nothing whatever to distress yourself about. You couldn't possibly be expected to know who I was. Perhaps I had better tell you at once that I am Lady Cantire, and this is my daughter, Lady Maisie Mull. (Spurrell returns Lady Maisie's little bow in the deepest confusion.) We are going down to Wyvern too, so I hope we shall very soon become better acquainted.

      Spurrell (to himself, overwhelmed). The deuce we shall! I have got myself into a hole this time; I wish I could see my way well out of it! Why on earth couldn't I hold my confounded tongue? I shall look an ass when I tell 'em.

      Undershell (to himself). Singularly attractive face this girl has; so piquant and so refined! I can't help fancying she is studying me under her eyelashes. She has remarkably bright eyes. Can she be interested in me? Does she expect me to talk to her? There are only she and I – but no, just now I would rather be alone with my thoughts. This Maisie Mull whom I shall meet so soon; what is she like, I wonder? I presume she is unmarried. If I may judge from her artless little letter, she is young and enthusiastic, and she is a passionate admirer of my verse; she is longing to meet me. I suppose some men's vanity would be flattered by a tribute like that. I think I must have none; for it leaves me strangely cold. I did not even reply; it struck me that it would be difficult to do so with any dignity, and she didn't tell me where to write to… After all, how do I know that this will not end – like everything else – in disillusion? Will not such crude girlish adoration pall upon me in time? If she were exceptionally lovely; or say, even as charming as this fair fellow-passenger of mine – why then, to be sure – but no, something warns me that that is not to be. I shall find her plain, sandy, freckled; she will render me ridiculous by her undiscriminating gush… Yes, I feel my heart sink more and more at the prospect of this visit. Ah me!

      His Fellow Passenger (to herself). It's too silly to be sitting here like a pair of images, considering that – (Aloud.) I hope you aren't feeling unwell?

      Undershell. Thank you, no, not unwell. I was merely thinking.

      His Fellow Passenger. You don't seem very cheerful over it, I must say. I've no wish to be inquisitive, but perhaps you're feeling a little low-spirited about the place you're going to?

      Undershell. I – I must confess I am rather dreading the prospect. How wonderful that you should have guessed it!

      His Fellow Passenger. Oh, I've been through it myself. I'm just the same when I go down to a new place; feel a sort of sinking, you know, as if the people were sure to be disagreeable, and I should never get on with them.

      Undershell. Exactly my own sensations! If I could only be sure of finding one kindred spirit, one soul who would help and understand me. But I daren't let myself hope even for that!

      His Fellow Passenger. Well, I wouldn't judge beforehand. The chances are there'll be somebody you can take to.

      Undershell (to himself). What sympathy! What bright, cheerful common sense! (Aloud.) Do you know, you encourage me more than you can possibly imagine!

      His Fellow Passenger (retreating). Oh, if you are going to take my remarks like that, I shall be afraid to go on talking to you!

      Undershell (with pathos). Don't —don't be afraid to talk to me! If you only knew the comfort you give! I have found life very sad, very solitary. And true sympathy is so rare, so refreshing. I – I fear such an appeal from a stranger may seem a little startling; it is true that hitherto we have only exchanged a very few sentences; and yet already I feel that we have something – much – in common. You can't be so cruel as to let all intimacy cease here – it is quite tantalising enough that it must end so soon. A very few more minutes, and this brief episode will be only a memory; I shall have left the little green oasis far behind me, and be facing the dreary desert once more – alone!

      His Fellow Passenger (laughing). Well, of all the uncomplimentary things! As it happens, though, "the little green oasis" – as you're kind enough to call me —won't be left behind; not if it's aware of it! I think I heard your friend mention Wyvern Court! Well, that's where I'm going.

      Undershell (excitedly). You —you are going to Wyvern Court! Why, then, you must be —

      His Fellow Passenger. What were you going to say; what must I be?

      Undershell (to himself). There is no doubt about it; bright, independent girl; gloves a trifle worn; travels second-class for economy; it must be Miss Mull herself; her letter mentioned Lady Culverin as her aunt. A poor relation, probably. She doesn't suspect that I am – I won't reveal myself just yet; better let it dawn upon her gradually. (Aloud.) Why, I was only about to say, why then you must be going to the same house as I am. How extremely fortunate a coincidence!

      His Fellow Passenger. That remains to be seen. (To herself.) What a funny little man; such a flowery way of talking for a footman. Oh, but I forgot; he said he wasn't going to wear livery. Well, he would look a sight in it!

      PART V

      CROSS PURPOSES

      Lady Maisie (to herself). Poets don't seem to have much self-possession. He seems perfectly overcome by hearing my name like that. If only he doesn't lose his head completely and say something about my wretched letter!

      Spurrell (to himself). I'd better tell 'em before they find out for themselves. (Aloud; desperately.) My lady, I – I feel I ought to explain at once how I come to be going down to Wyvern like this.

      Lady Cantire (benignly amused). My good sir, there's not the slightest necessity; I am perfectly aware of who you are, and everything about you!

      Spurrell (incredulously). But really I don't see how your ladyship – Why, I haven't said a word that —

      Lady Cantire (with a solemn waggishness.) Celebrities who mean to preserve their incognito shouldn't allow their friends to see them off. I happened to hear СКАЧАТЬ