James. Yes, you are; and what's more you'll cry in a minute if you don't take care. You're getting worked up.
Rosamund. No, I shan't. [Sits down and cries.]
James. What did I tell you? Now perhaps you will inform me what we are quarreling about, because I haven't the least idea.
Rosamund [through her sobs]. I do think it's horrid of Lottie. We can't be married with one witness. And I didn't want to be married at a registry office at all.
James. My pet, we can easily get another witness. As for the registry office, it was yourself who proposed it, as a way out of a difficulty. I'm High and you're Low—
Rosamund. I'm not Low; I'm Broad, or else Evangelical.
James [beginning calmly again]. I'm High and you're Broad, and there was a serious question about candles and a genuflexion, and so we decided on the registry office, which, after all, is much cheaper.
Rosamund [drying her tears, and putting on a saintly expression]. Well, anyhow, James, we will consider our engagement at an end.
James. This extraordinary tiff has lasted long enough, Rosie. Come and be kissed.
Rosamund [with increased saintliness]. You mistake me, James. I am not quarreling. I am not angry.
James. Then you have ceased to love me?
Rosamund. I adore you passionately. But we can never marry. Do you not perceive the warnings against such a course? First of all you come here—drawn by some mysterious, sinister impulse—in breach of all etiquette. That was a Sign.
James. A sign of what?
Rosamund. Evil. Then you find that postcard, to remind me of a forgotten episode.
James. Damn the postcard! I wish I'd never picked it up.
Rosamund. Hush! Then comes this letter about Lottie.
James. Damn that, too!
Rosamund [sighs]. Then Gerald arrives.
James. Damn him, too! By the way, where is he?
Gerald [coming out from behind the screen]. Sir, if you want to influence my future state by means of a blasphemous expletive, let me beg you to do it when ladies are not present. There are certain prayers which should only be uttered in the smoking-room. [The two men stab each other with their eyes.]
James. I respectfully maintain, Mr. O'Mara, that you had no business to call on my future wife within three hours of her wedding, and throw her into such a condition of alarm and unrest that she doesn't know whether she is going to get married or not.
Gerald. Sir! How in the name of Heaven was I to guess—
Rosamund [rising, with an imperative gesture]. Stop! Sit down, both. James [who hesitates], this is the last request I shall ever make of you. [He sits]. Let me speak. Long ago, from a mistaken motive of kindness, I gave this poor boy [pointing to Gerald] to understand that I loved him; that any rate I should love him in time. Supported by that assurance, he existed for four years through the climatic terrors of a distant isle. I, pampered with all the superfluities of civilization, forgot this noble youth in his exile. I fell selfishly in love. I promised to marry ... while he, with nothing to assuage the rigors—
James. Pardon me, there was Evelyn's "Moonlight Sonata," not to mention Madge's eyes.
Rosamund. You jest, James, but the jest is untimely. Has he not himself said that these doubtless excellent young women were in fact nothing to him, that it was my image which he kept steadfastly in his heart?
Gerald. Ye—es, of course, Rosie.
Rosamund [chiefly to James]. The sight of this poor youth fills me with sorrow and compunction and shame. For it reminds me that four years ago I lied to him.
Gerald. It was awfully good of you, you know.
Rosamund. That is beside the point. At an earlier period of this unhappy morning, James, you asseverated that you could not dream of getting married with a lie on your lips. Neither can I. James, I love you to madness. [Takes his inert hand, shakes it, and drops it again.] Good-by, James! Henceforth we shall be strangers. My duty is towards Gerald.
Gerald. But if you love him?
Rosamund. With a good woman, conscience comes first, love second. In time I shall learn to love you. I was always quick at lessons. Gerald, take me. It is the only way by which I can purge my lips of the lie uttered four years ago. [Puts her hands on Gerald's shoulders.]
James. In about three-quarters of an hour you will regret this, Rosamund Fife.
Rosamund. One never regrets a good action.
Gerald. Oh! well! I say.... [inarticulate with embarrassment].
Rosamund [after a pause]. James, we are waiting.
James. What for?
Rosamund. For you to go.
James. Don't mind me. You forget that I am in the War Office, and accustomed to surprising situations.
Gerald. Look here, Rosie. It's awfully good of you, and you're doing me a frightfully kind turn; but I can't accept it, you know. It wouldn't do. Kindness spoils my character.
James. Yes, and think of the shock to the noble youth.
Gerald. I couldn't permit such a sacrifice.
Rosamund. To a good woman life should be one long sacrifice.
Gerald. Yes, that's all very well, and I tell you, Rosie, I'm awfully obliged to you. Of course I'm desperately in love with you. That goes without saying. But I also must sacrifice myself. The fact is ... there's Madge....
Rosamund. Well?
Gerald. Well, you know what a place a steamer is, especially in calm, warm weather. I'm afraid I've rather led her to expect.... The fact is, while you and Mr. Brett were having your little discussion just now, I employed the time in scribbling out a bit of a letter to her, and I rather fancy that I've struck one or two deuced good ideas in the proposal line. How's this for a novelty: "My dear Miss Madge, you cannot fail to have noticed from my behavior in your presence that I admire you tremendously?" Rather a neat beginning, eh?
Rosamund. But you said you loved me.
Gerald. Oh, well, so I do. You see I only state that I "admire" her. All the same I feel I'm sort of bound to her, ... you see how I'm fixed. I should much prefer, of course....
James. To a good man life should be one long sacrifice.
Gerald. Exactly, sir.
Rosamund [steadying herself and approaching James]. Jim, my sacrifice is over. It was a terrible ordeal, and nothing but a strict sense of duty could have supported me through such a trying crisis. I am yours. Lead me to the altar. I trust Gerald may be happy with this person named Madge.
James. The flame of your love has not faltered?
Rosamund. Ah, no!
James. Well, if my own particular flame hadn't been fairly robust, the recent draughts might have knocked it about a bit. You have no more sacrifices in immediate view?... [She looks at him in a certain marvelous way, and he suddenly swoops down and kisses her.] To the altar! March! Dash; we shall want another witness.
Gerald. Couldn't I serve?
Rosamund. You're sure it wouldn't be too much for your feelings?
Gerald. I should enjoy it.... I mean I shan't mind very much. Let us therefore start. If we're too soon you can watch the process at work on others, and learn how to comport yourselves. By the way, honeymoon?
James. Paris. Charing Cross 1:30. Dine at Dover.
Gerald.