Belinda by Milne A.A

Author:Milne,A.A.
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Publisher: epubBooks Classics
Published: 2014-03-26T04:00:00+00:00

ACT III

It is after dinner in BELINDA'S hall. The log fire, chandelier and wall brackets are all alight. BELINDA is lying on the Chesterfield with a coffee–cup in her hand. DELIA, in the chair down L. below the fireplace, has picked up "The Lute of Love" from a table and is reading it impatiently. She also has a coffee–cup in her hand.

DELIA (throwing the book away). What rubbish he writes!

BELINDA (coming back from her thoughts). Who, dear?

DELIA. Claude

(BELINDA gives her a quick look of surprise.)

—Mr. Devenish. (She rises and stands by the fireplace with her cup in her hand.) Of course, he's very young.

BELINDA. So was Keats, darling.

DELIA. I don't think Claude has had Keats' advantages. Keats started life as an apothecary.

BELINDA. So much nicer than a chemist.

DELIA. Now, Claude started with nothing to do.

BELINDA (mildly). Do you always call him Claude, darling? I hope you aren't going to grow into a flirt like that horrid Mrs. Tremayne.

DELIA. Silly mother! (She moves to BELINDA, takes her cup, then crosses to the table and places both the cups on the table— seriously.) I don't think he'll ever be any good till he really gets work. Did you notice his hair this evening?

BELINDA (dreamily). Whose, dear?

DELIA (going to the back of the Chesterfield and to the L. of BELINDA). Mummy, look me in the eye and tell me you are not being bad.

BELINDA (having playfully turned her head away and hidden her face with her handkerchief, says innocently). Bad, darling?

DELIA (moving down to the front of the fireplace). You've made Mr. Robinson fall in love with you.

BELINDA (happily). Have I?

DELIA. Yes; it's serious this time. He's not like the other two.

BELINDA. However did you know that?

DELIA. Oh, I know.

BELINDA. Darling, I believe you've grown up. It's quite time I settled down.

DELIA. With Mr. Robinson?

(BELINDA sits up and looks thoughtfully at DELIA for a little time.)

BELINDA (mysteriously). Delia, are you prepared for a great secret to be revealed to you?

DELIA (childishly and jumping on to the L. arm of the Chesterfield facing BELINDA). Oh, I love secrets.

BELINDA (reproachfully). Darling, you mustn't take it like that. This is a great, deep, dark secret; you'll probably need your sal volatile.

DELIA (excitedly). Go on!

BELINDA. Well― (Looking round the room.) Shall we have the lights down a little?

DELIA. Go on, mummy.

BELINDA. Well, Mr. Robinson is—(impressively)—is not quite the Robinson he appears to be.

DELIA. Yes?

BELINDA. In fact, child, he is― Darling, hadn't you better come and hold your mother's hand?

DELIA (struggling with some emotion and placing her hand on BELINDA'S arm, who playfully smacks it). Go on.

BELINDA. Well, Mr. Robinson is a—sort of relation of yours; in fact— (playing with her rings and looking down coyly)—he is your— father. (She looks up at DELIA to see how the news is being received.) (DELIA gives a happy laugh.)

Dear one, this is not a matter for mirth.

DELIA. Darling, it is lovely, isn't it? (Sliding down to the seat of the Chesterfield next to BELINDA, who moves along to make room for her.

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