LADY MARY. Yes, father. _(She induces hi...

LADY MARY. Yes, father. (She induces him to go, and thus courageously faces LORD BROCKLEHURST to hear her fate.) I am ready, George.
LORD BROCKLEHURST (who is so agitated that she ought to see he is thinking not of her but of himself). It is a painful matter—I wish I could have spared you this, Mary.
LADY MARY. Please go on.
LORD BROCKLEHURST. In common fairness, of course, this should be remembered, that two years had elapsed. You and I had no reason to believe that we should ever meet again.
(This is more considerate than she had expected.)
LADY MARY (softening). I was so lost to the world, George.
LORD BROCKLEHURST (with a groan). At the same time, the thing is utterly and absolutely inexcusable—
LADY MARY (recovering her hauteur). Oh!
LORD BROCKLEHURST. And so I have already said to mother.
LADY MARY (disdaining him). You have told her?
LORD BROCKLEHURST. Certainly, Mary, certainly; I tell mother everything.
LADY MARY (curling her lip). And what did she say?
LORD BROCKLEHURST. To tell the truth, mother rather pooh-poohed the whole affair.
LADY MARY (incredulous). Lady Brocklehurst pooh-poohed the whole affair!
LORD BROCKLEHURST. She said, ‘Mary and I will have a good laugh over this.’
LADY MARY (outraged). George, your mother is a hateful, depraved old woman.
LORD BROCKLEHURST. Mary!
LADY MARY (turning away). Laugh indeed, when it will always be such a pain to me.
LORD BROCKLEHURST(with strange humility). If only you would let me bear all the pain, Mary.
LADY MARY (who is taken aback). George, I think you are the noblest man—
(She is touched, and gives him both her hands. Unfortunately he simpers.)
LORD BROCKLEHURST. She was a pretty little thing. (She stares, but he marches to his doom.) Ah, not beautiful like you. I assure you it was the merest flirtation; there were a few letters, but we have got them back. It was all owing to the boat being so late at Calais. You see she had such large, helpless eyes.
LADY MARY (fixing him). George, when you lunched with father to-day at the club—
LORD BROCKLEHURST. 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). I am so glad you told me.
LORD BROCKLEHURST. You see there was nothing wrong in it.
LADY MARY (thinking perhaps of another incident). No, indeed.
LORD BROCKLEHURST (inclined to simper again). And she behaved awfully well. She quite saw that it was because the boat was late. I suppose the glamour to a girl in service of a man in high position—
LADY MARY. Glamour!—yes, yes, that was it.
LORD BROCKLEHURST. Mother says that a girl in such circumstances is to be excused if she loses her head.
LADY MARY (impulsively). George, I am so sorry if I said anything against your mother. I am sure she is the dearest old thing.
LORD BROCKLEHURST (in calm waters at last). Of course for women of our class she has a very different standard.
LADY MARY (grown tiny). Of course.
LORD BROCKLEHURST. You see, knowing how good a woman she is herself, she was naturally anxious that I should marry some one like her. That is what has made her watch your conduct so jealously, Mary.
LADY MARY (hurriedly thinking things out). I know. I—I think, George, that before your mother comes I should like to say a word to father.
LORD BROCKLEHURST (nervously). About this?
LADY MARY. Oh no; I shan’t tell him of this. About something else.
LORD BROCKLEHURST. And you do forgive me, Mary?
LADY MARY (smiling on him). Yes, yes. I—I am sure the boat was very late, George.
LORD BROCKLEHURST (earnestly). It really was.
LADY MARY. I am even relieved to know that you are not quite perfect, dear. (She rests her hands on his shoulders. She has a moment of contrition.) George, when we are married, we shall try to be not an entirely frivolous couple, won’t we? We must endeavour to be of some little use, dear.
LORD BROCKLEHURST (the ass). Noblesse oblige.
LADY MARY (haunted by the phrases of a better man). Mary Lasenby is determined to play the game, George.
Perhaps she adds to herself, ‘Except just this once.’ A kiss closes this episode of the two lovers.

Barrie, J.M. The Admirable Crichton. 1902. https://www.gutenberg.org/files/3490/3490-h/3490-h.htm. Retrieved August 25, 2018.