I didn't. He wired me that he couldn't come.
LADY MARY (with a tremor). But he wrote you?
LORD BROCKLEHURST. No.
LADY MARY (a bird singing in her breast). You haven't seen him
since?
LORD BROCKLEHURST. No.
(She is saved. Is he to be let off also? Not at all. She bears down
on him like a ship of war.)
LADY MARY. George, who and what is this woman?
LORD BROCKLEHURST (cowering). She was--she is--the shame of it--a
lady's-maid.
LADY MARY (properly horrified). A what?
LORD BROCKLEHURST. A lady's-maid. A mere servant, Mary. (LADY MARY
whirls round so that he shall not see her face.) I first met her at
this house when you were entertaining the servants; so you see it
was largely your father's fault.
LADY MARY (looking him up and down). A lady's-maid?
LORD BROCKLEHURST (degraded). Her name was Fisher.
LADY MARY. My maid!
LORD BROCKLEHURST (with open hands). Can you forgive me, Mary?
LADY MARY. Oh George, George!
LORD BROCKLEHURST. Mother urged me not to tell you anything about
it; but--
LADY MARY (from her heart).
Pages:
123
124
125
126
127
128
129
130
131
132
133
134
135
136
137
138
139
140
141
142
143
144
145
146
147