(remonstrating). Colonel Craven —
CRAVEN (cutting him short). Don’t be a fool, Paramore.
JULIA (tearfully excusing herself). I’m sure, Daddy —
CRAVEN. Stop snivelling. I’m not speaking as your Daddy now: I’m speaking as your commanding officer.
SYLVIA. Good old Victoria Cross! (Craven turns sharply on her; and she darts away behind Charteris, and presently seats herself on the couch, so that she and Charteris are shoulder to shoulder, facing opposite ways. Cuthbertson arrives with Grace, who remains near the door whilst her father joins the others.)
CRAVEN. Ah, Jo, here you are. Now, Paramore, tell ’em the news.
PARAMORE. Mrs. Tranfield — Cuthbertson — allow me to introduce you to my future wife.
CUTHBERTSON (coming forward to shake hands with Paramore). My heartiest congratulations! (Paramore goes to shake hands with Grace.) Miss Craven: you will accept Grace’s congratulations as well as mine, I hope.
CRAVEN. She will, Jo. (In a tone of command.) Now, Julia. (Julia slowly rises.)
CUTHBERTSON. Now, Grace. (He conducts her to Julia’s right; then posts himself on the hearthrug, with his back to the fire, watching them. The Colonel keeps guard on the other side.)
GRACE (speaking in a low voice to Julia alone). So you have shewn him that you can do without him! Now I take back everything I said. Will you shake hands with me? (Julia gives her hand painfully, with her face averted.) They think this a happy ending, Julia — these men — our lords and masters! (The two stand silent, hand in hand.)
SYLVIA (leaning back across the couch, aside to Charteris). Has she really chucked you? (He nods assent. She looks at him dubiously, and adds) I expect you chucked her.
CUTHBERTSON. And now, Paramore, mind you don’t stand any chaff from Charteris about this. He’s in the same predicament himself. He’s engaged to Grace.
JULIA (dropping Grace’s hand, and speaking with breathless anguish, but not violently). Again!
CHARTERIS (rising hastily). Don’t be alarmed. It’s all off.
SYLVIA (rising indignantly). What! You’ve chucked Grace too! What a shame! (She goes to the other side of the room, fuming.)
CHARTERIS (following her and putting his hand soothingly on her shoulder). She won’t have me, old chap — that is (turning to the others) unless Mrs. Tranfield has changed her mind again.
GRACE. No: we shall remain very good friends, I hope; but nothing would induce me to marry you. (She goes to chair above the fireplace and sits down with perfect composure.)
JULIA. Ah! (She sits down with a great sigh of relief.)
SYLVIA (consoling Charteris). Poor old Leonard!
CHARTERIS. Yes: this is the doom of the philanderer. I shall have to go on philandering now all my life. No domesticity, no fireside, no little ones, nothing at all in Cuthbertson’s line! Nobody will marry me — unless you, Sylvia — eh?
SYLVIA. Not if I know it, Charteris.
CHARTERIS (to them all). You see!
CRAVEN (coming between Charteris and Sylvia). Now you really shouldn’t make a jest of these things: upon my life and soul you shouldn’t, Charteris.
CUTHBERTSON (on the hearthrug). The only use he can find for sacred things is to make a jest of them. That’s the New Order. Thank Heaven, we belong to the Old Order, Dan!
CHARTERIS. Cuthbertson: don’t be symbolic.
CUTHBERTSON (outraged). Symbolic! That is an accusation of Ibsenism. What do you mean?
CHARTERIS. Symbolic of the Old Order. Don’t persuade yourself that you represent the Old Order. There never was any Old Order.
CRAVEN. There I flatly contradict you and stand up for Jo. I’d no more have behaved as you do when I was a young man than I’d have cheated at cards. I belong to the Old Order.
CHARTERIS. You’re getting old, Craven; and you want to make a merit of it, as usual.
CRAVEN. Come, now, Charteris: you’re not offended, I hope. (With a conciliatory outburst.) Well, perhaps I shouldn’t have said that about cheating at cards. I withdraw it (offering his hand).
CHARTERIS (taking Craven’s hand). No offence, my dear Craven: none in the world. I didn’t mean to shew any temper. But (aside, after looking round to see whether the others are listening) only just consider! — the spectacle of a rival’s happiness!
CRAVEN (aloud, decisively). Charteris: now you’ve got to behave like a man. Your duty’s plain before you. (To Cuthbertson.) Am I right, Jo?
CUTHBERTSON (firmly). You are, Dan.
CRAVEN (to Charteris). Go straight up and congratulate Julia. And do it like a gentleman, smiling.
CHARTERIS. Colonel: I will. Not a muscle shall betray the conflict within.
CRAVEN. Julia: Charteris has not congratulated you yet. He’s coming to do it. (Julia rises and fixes a dangerous look on Charteris.)
SYLVIA (whispering quickly behind Charteris as he is about to advance). Take care. She’s going to hit you. I know her. (Charteris stops and looks cautiously at Julia, measuring the situation. They regard one another steadfastly for a moment. Grace softly rises and gets close to Julia.)
CHARTERIS (whispering over his shoulder to Sylvia). I’ll chance it. (He walks confidently up to Julia.) Julia? (He proffers his hand.)
JULIA (exhausted, allowing herself to take it). You are right. I am a worthless woman.
CHARTERIS (triumphant, and gaily remonstrating). Oh, why?
JULIA. Because I am not brave enough to kill you.
GRACE (taking her in her arms as she sinks, almost fainting, away from him). Oh, no. Never make a hero of a philanderer. (Charteris, amused and untouched, shakes his head laughingly. The rest look at Julia with concern, and even a little awe, feeling for the first time the presence of a keen sorrow.)
CURTAIN.
Mrs. Warren’s Profession (1898)
