ALICE. ‘As you have done, Amy?’
AMY. ‘As I have done.’
Once more the arms go round her.
‘I want none of that.’
ALICE. ‘Forgive me.’ A thought
comes to Alice that enthralls her. ‘Steve!
Does he know what you think—about me?’
AMY. ‘I had to be open with him.’
ALICE. ’And Steve believes it? He
thinks that I—I—Alice Grey—oh,
ecstasy!’
AMY. ‘You need not pretend.’
ALICE. ‘What is to be done?’
AMY. ’Though I abhor him I must marry him
for aye. Ginevra is to be my only bridesmaid.
We are both to wear black.’
ALICE, sharply, ‘You are sure you don’t
rather like him, Amy?’
AMY. ‘Mother!’
ALICE. ’Amy, weren’t you terrified
to come alone to the rooms of a man you didn’t
even know? Some men—’
AMY. ’I was not afraid. I am a soldier’s
daughter; and Ginevra gave me this.’
She produces a tiny dagger. This is altogether
too much for Alice.
ALICE. ‘My darling!’
She does have the babe in her arms at last, and now
Amy clings to her. This is very sweet to Alice;
but she knows that if she tells Amy the truth at once
its first effect will be to make the dear one feel
ridiculous. How can Alice hurt her Amy so, Amy
who has such pride in having saved her? ‘You
do love me a little, Amy, don’t you?’
AMY. ‘Yes, yes.’
ALICE. ‘You don’t think I have been
really bad, dear?’
AMY. ‘Oh, no, only foolish.’
ALICE. ‘Thank you, Amy.’
AMY, nestling still closer, ‘What are we to
do now, dear dear mother?’
Alice has a happy idea; but that, as the novelists
say, deserves a chapter to itself.
We are back in the room of the diary. The diary
itself is not visible; it is tucked away in the drawer,
taking a nap while it may, for it has much to chronicle
before cockcrow. Cosmo also is asleep, on an
ingenious arrangement of chairs. Ginevra is sitting
bolt upright, a book on her knee, but she is not reading
it. She is seeing visions in which Amy plays
a desperate part. The hour is late; every one
ought to be in bed.
Cosmo is perhaps dreaming that he is back at Osborne,
for he calls out, as if in answer to a summons, that
he is up and nearly dressed. He then raises his
head and surveys Ginevra.
COSMO. ‘Hullo, you’ve been asleep.’
GINEVRA. ‘How like a man.’
COSMO. ’I say, I thought you were the one
who had stretched herself out, and that I was sitting
here very quiet, so as not to waken you.’
GINEVRA. ‘Let us leave it at that.’
COSMO. ‘Huffy, aren’t you! Have
they not come back yet?’
GINEVRA. ’Not they. And half-past
eleven has struck. I oughtn’t to stay any
longer; as it is, I don’t know what my landlady
will say.’
She means that she does know.
