FOURTH ACT



SCENE

Same as Act II.

[LORD GORING is standing by the fireplace with his hands in his
pockets. He is looking rather bored.]

LORD GORING. [Pulls out his watch, inspects it, and rings the bell.]
It is a great nuisance. I can't find any one in this house to talk
to. And I am full of interesting information. I feel like the
latest edition of something or other.

[Enter servant.]

JAMES. Sir Robert is still at the Foreign Office, my lord.

LORD GORING. Lady Chiltern not down yet?

JAMES. Her ladyship has not yet left her room. Miss Chiltern has
just come in from riding.

LORD GORING. [To himself.] Ah! that is something.

JAMES. Lord Caversham has been waiting some time in the library for
Sir Robert. I told him your lordship was here.

LORD GORING. Thank you! Would you kindly tell him I've gone?

JAMES. [Bowing.] I shall do so, my lord.

[Exit servant.]

LORD GORING. Really, I don't want to meet my father three days
running. It is a great deal too much excitement for any son. I hope
to goodness he won't come up. Fathers should be neither seen nor
heard. That is the only proper basin for family life. Mothers are
different. Mothers are darlings. [Throws himself down into a chair,
picks up a paper and begins to read it.]

[Enter LORD CAVERSHAM.]

LORD CAVERSHAM. Well, sir, what are you doing here? Wasting your
time as usual, I suppose?

LORD GORING. [Throws down paper and rises.] My dear father, when
one pays a visit it is for the purpose of wasting other people's
time, not one's own.

LORD CAVERSHAM. Have you been thinking over what I spoke to you
about last night?

LORD GORING. I have been thinking about nothing else.

LORD CAVERSHAM. Engaged to be married yet?

LORD GORING. [Genially.] Not yet: but I hope to be before lunch-
time.

LORD CAVERSHAM. [Caustically.] You can have till dinner-time if it
would be of any convenience to you.

LORD GORING. Thanks awfully, but I think I'd sooner be engaged
before lunch.

LORD CAVERSHAM. Humph! Never know when you are serious or not.

LORD GORING. Neither do I, father.

[A pause.]

LORD CAVERSHAM. I suppose you have read THE TIMES this morning?

LORD GORING. [Airily.] THE TIMES? Certainly not. I only read THE
MORNING POST. All that one should know about modern life is where
the Duchesses are; anything else is quite demoralising.

LORD CAVERSHAM. Do you mean to say you have not read THE TIMES
leading article on Robert Chiltern's career?

LORD GORING. Good heavens! No. What does it say?

LORD CAVERSHAM. What should it say, sir? Everything complimentary,
of course. Chiltern's speech last night on this Argentine Canal
scheme was one of the finest pieces of oratory ever delivered in the
House since Canning.

LORD GORING. Ah! Never heard of Canning. Never wanted to. And did
. . . did Chiltern uphold the scheme?

LORD CAVERSHAM. Uphold it, sir? How little you know him! Why, he
denounced it roundly, and the whole system of modern political
finance. This speech is the turning-point in his career, as THE
TIMES points out. You should read this article, sir. [Opens THE
TIMES.] 'Sir Robert Chiltern . . . most rising of our young
statesmen . . . Brilliant orator . . . Unblemished career . . . Well-
known integrity of character . . . Represents what is best in English
public life . . . Noble contrast to the lax morality so common among
foreign politicians.' They will never say that of you, sir.

LORD GORING. I sincerely hope not, father. However, I am delighted
at what you tell me about Robert, thoroughly delighted. It shows he
has got pluck.

LORD CAVERSHAM. He has got more than pluck, sir, he has got genius.

LORD GORING. Ah! I prefer pluck. It is not so common, nowadays, as
genius is.

LORD CAVERSHAM. I wish you would go into Parliament.

LORD GORING. My dear father, only people who look dull ever get into
the House of Commons, and only people who are dull ever succeed
there.

LORD CAVERSHAM. Why don't you try to do something useful in life?

LORD GORING. I am far too young.

LORD CAVERSHAM. [Testily.] I hate this affectation of youth, sir.
It is a great deal too prevalent nowadays.

LORD GORING. Youth isn't an affectation. Youth is an art.

LORD CAVERSHAM. Why don't you propose to that pretty Miss Chiltern?

LORD GORING. I am of a very nervous disposition, especially in the
morning.

LORD CAVERSHAM. I don't suppose there is the smallest chance of her
accepting you.

LORD GORING. I don't know how the betting stands to-day.

LORD CAVERSHAM. If she did accept you she would be the prettiest
fool in England.

LORD GORING. That is just what I should like to marry. A thoroughly
sensible wife would reduce me to a condition of absolute idiocy in
less than six months.

LORD CAVERSHAM. You don't deserve her, sir.

LORD GORING. My dear father, if we men married the women we
deserved, we should have a very bad time of it.

[Enter MABEL CHILTERN.]

MABEL CHILTERN. Oh! . . . How do you do, Lord Caversham? I hope
Lady Caversham is quite well?

LORD CAVERSHAM. Lady Caversham is as usual, as usual.

LORD GORING. Good morning, Miss Mabel!

MABEL CHILTERN. [Taking no notice at all of LORD GORING, and
addressing herself exclusively to LORD CAVERSHAM.] And Lady
Caversham's bonnets . . . are they at all better?

LORD CAVERSHAM. They have had a serious relapse, I am sorry to say.

LORD GORING. Good morning, Miss Mabel!

MABEL CHILTERN. [To LORD CAVERSHAM.] I hope an operation will not
be necessary.

LORD CAVERSHAM. [Smiling at her pertness.] If it is, we shall have
to give Lady Caversham a narcotic. Otherwise she would never consent
to have a feather touched.

LORD GORING. [With increased emphasis.] Good morning, Miss Mabel!

MABEL CHILTERN. [Turning round with feigned surprise.] Oh, are you
here? Of course you understand that after your breaking your
appointment I am never going to speak to you again.

LORD GORING. Oh, please don't say such a thing. You are the one
person in London I really like to have to listen to me.

MABEL CHILTERN. Lord Goring, I never believe a single word that
either you or I say to each other.

LORD CAVERSHAM. You are quite right, my dear, quite right . . . as
far as he is concerned, I mean.

MABEL CHILTERN. Do you think you could possibly make your son behave
a little better occasionally? Just as a change.

LORD CAVERSHAM. I regret to say, Miss Chiltern, that I have no
influence at all over my son. I wish I had. If I had, I know what I
would make him do.

MABEL CHILTERN. I am afraid that he has one of those terribly weak
natures that are not susceptible to influence.

LORD CAVERSHAM. He is very heartless, very heartless.

LORD GORING. It seems to me that I am a little in the way here.

MABEL CHILTERN. It is very good for you to be in the way, and to
know what people say of you behind your back.

LORD GORING. I don't at all like knowing what people say of me
behind my back. It makes me far too conceited.

LORD CAVERSHAM. After that, my dear, I really must bid you good
morning.

MABEL CHILTERN. Oh! I hope you are not going to leave me all alone
with Lord Goring? Especially at such an early hour in the day.

LORD CAVERSHAM. I am afraid I can't take him with me to Downing
Street. It is not the Prime Minster's day for seeing the unemployed.

[Shakes hands with MABEL CHILTERN, takes up his hat and stick, and
goes out, with a parting glare of indignation at LORD GORING.]

MABEL CHILTERN. [Takes up roses and begins to arrange them in a bowl
on the table.] People who don't keep their appointments in the Park
are horrid.

LORD GORING. Detestable.

MABEL CHILTERN. I am glad you admit it. But I wish you wouldn't
look so pleased about it.

LORD GORING. I can't help it. I always look pleased when I am with
you.

MABEL CHILTERN. [Sadly.] Then I suppose it is my duty to remain
with you?

LORD GORING. Of course it is.

MABEL CHILTERN. Well, my duty is a thing I never do, on principle.
It always depresses me. So I am afraid I must leave you.

LORD GORING. Please don't, Miss Mabel. I have something very
particular to say to you.

MABEL CHILTERN. [Rapturously.] Oh! is it a proposal?

LORD GORING. [Somewhat taken aback.] Well, yes, it is - I am bound
to say it is.

MABEL CHILTERN. [With a sigh of pleasure.] I am so glad. That
makes the second to-day.

LORD GORING. [Indignantly.] The second to-day? What conceited ass
has been impertinent enough to dare to propose to you before I had
proposed to you?

MABEL CHILTERN. Tommy Trafford, of course. It is one of Tommy's
days for proposing. He always proposes on Tuesdays and Thursdays,
during the Season.

LORD GORING. You didn't accept him, I hope?

MABEL CHILTERN. I make it a rule never to accept Tommy. That is why
he goes on proposing. Of course, as you didn't turn up this morning,
I very nearly said yes. It would have been an excellent lesson both
for him and for you if I had. It would have taught you both better
manners.

LORD GORING. Oh! bother Tommy Trafford. Tommy is a silly little
ass. I love you.

MABEL CHILTERN. I know. And I think you might have mentioned it
before. I am sure I have given you heaps of opportunities.

LORD GORING. Mabel, do be serious. Please be serious.

MABEL CHILTERN. Ah! that is the sort of thing a man always says to a
girl before he has been married to her. He never says it afterwards.

LORD GORING. [Taking hold of her hand.] Mabel, I have told you that
I love you. Can't you love me a little in return?

MABEL CHILTERN. You silly Arthur! If you knew anything about . . .
anything, which you don't, you would know that I adore you. Every
one in London knows it except you. It is a public scandal the way I
adore you. I have been going about for the last six months telling
the whole of society that I adore you. I wonder you consent to have
anything to say to me. I have no character left at all. At least, I
feel so happy that I am quite sure I have no character left at all.

LORD GORING. [Catches her in his arms and kisses her. Then there is
a pause of bliss.] Dear! Do you know I was awfully afraid of being
refused!

MABEL CHILTERN. [Looking up at him.] But you never have been
refused yet by anybody, have you, Arthur? I can't imagine any one
refusing you.

LORD GORING. [After kissing her again.] Of course I'm not nearly
good enough for you, Mabel.

MABEL CHILTERN. [Nestling close to him.] I am so glad, darling. I
was afraid you were.

LORD GORING. [After some hesitation.] And I'm . . . I'm a little
over thirty.

MABEL CHILTERN. Dear, you look weeks younger than that.

LORD GORING. [Enthusiastically.] How sweet of you to say so! . . .
And it is only fair to tell you frankly that I am fearfully
extravagant.

MABEL CHILTERN. But so am I, Arthur. So we're sure to agree. And
now I must go and see Gertrude.

LORD GORING. Must you really? [Kisses her.]

MABEL CHILTERN. Yes.

LORD GORING. Then do tell her I want to talk to her particularly. I
have been waiting here all the morning to see either her or Robert.

MABEL CHILTERN. Do you mean to say you didn't come here expressly to
propose to me?

LORD GORING. [Triumphantly.] No; that was a flash of genius.

MABEL CHILTERN. Your first.

LORD GORING. [With determination.] My last.

MABEL CHILTERN. I am delighted to hear it. Now don't stir. I'll be
back in five minutes. And don't fall into any temptations while I am
away.

LORD GORING. Dear Mabel, while you are away, there are none. It
makes me horribly dependent on you.

[Enter LADY CHILTERN.]

LADY CHILTERN. Good morning, dear! How pretty you are looking!

MABEL CHILTERN. How pale you are looking, Gertrude! It is most
becoming!

LADY CHILTERN. Good morning, Lord Goring!

LORD GORING. [Bowing.] Good morning, Lady Chiltern!

MABEL CHILTERN. [Aside to LORD GORING.] I shall be in the
conservatory under the second palm tree on the left.

LORD GORING. Second on the left?

MABEL CHILTERN. [With a look of mock surprise.] Yes; the usual palm
tree.

[Blows a kiss to him, unobserved by LADY CHILTERN, and goes out.]

LORD GORING. Lady Chiltern, I have a certain amount of very good
news to tell you. Mrs. Cheveley gave me up Robert's letter last
night, and I burned it. Robert is safe.

LADY CHILTERN. [Sinking on the sofa.] Safe! Oh! I am so glad of
that. What a good friend you are to him - to us!

LORD GORING. There is only one person now that could be said to be
in any danger.

LADY CHILTERN. Who is that?

LORD GORING. [Sitting down beside her.] Yourself.

LADY CHILTERN. I? In danger? What do you mean?

LORD GORING. Danger is too great a word. It is a word I should not
have used. But I admit I have something to tell you that may
distress you, that terribly distresses me. Yesterday evening you
wrote me a very beautiful, womanly letter, asking me for my help.
You wrote to me as one of your oldest friends, one of your husband's
oldest friends. Mrs. Cheveley stole that letter from my rooms.

LADY CHILTERN. Well, what use is it to her? Why should she not have
it?

LORD GORING. [Rising.] Lady Chiltern, I will be quite frank with
you. Mrs. Cheveley puts a certain construction on that letter and
proposes to send it to your husband.

LADY CHILTERN. But what construction could she put on it? . . . Oh!
not that! not that! If I in - in trouble, and wanting your help,
trusting you, propose to come to you . . . that you may advise me . .
. assist me . . . Oh! are there women so horrible as that . . .? And
she proposes to send it to my husband? Tell me what happened. Tell
me all that happened.

LORD GORING. Mrs. Cheveley was concealed in a room adjoining my
library, without my knowledge. I thought that the person who was
waiting in that room to see me was yourself. Robert came in
unexpectedly. A chair or something fell in the room. He forced his
way in, and he discovered her. We had a terrible scene. I still
thought it was you. He left me in anger. At the end of everything
Mrs. Cheveley got possession of your letter - she stole it, when or
how, I don't know.

LADY CHILTERN. At what hour did this happen?

LORD GORING. At half-past ten. And now I propose that we tell
Robert the whole thing at once.

LADY CHILTERN. [Looking at him with amazement that is almost
terror.] You want me to tell Robert that the woman you expected was
not Mrs. Cheveley, but myself? That it was I whom you thought was
concealed in a room in your house, at half-past ten o'clock at night?
You want me to tell him that?

LORD GORING. I think it is better that he should know the exact
truth.

LADY CHILTERN. [Rising.] Oh, I couldn't, I couldn't!

LORD GORING. May I do it?

LADY CHILTERN. No.

LORD GORING. [Gravely.] You are wrong, Lady Chiltern.

LADY CHILTERN. No. The letter must be intercepted. That is all.
But how can I do it? Letters arrive for him every moment of the day.
His secretaries open them and hand them to him. I dare not ask the
servants to bring me his letters. It would be impossible. Oh! why
don't you tell me what to do?

LORD GORING. Pray be calm, Lady Chiltern, and answer the questions I
am going to put to you. You said his secretaries open his letters.

LADY CHILTERN. Yes.

LORD GORING. Who is with him to-day? Mr. Trafford, isn't it?

LADY CHILTERN. No. Mr. Montford, I think.

LORD GORING. You can trust him?

LADY CHILTERN. [With a gesture of despair.] Oh! how do I know?

LORD GORING. He would do what you asked him, wouldn't he?

LADY CHILTERN. I think so.

LORD GORING. Your letter was on pink paper. He could recognise it
without reading it, couldn't he? By the colour?

LADY CHILTERN. I suppose so.

LORD GORING. Is he in the house now?

LADY CHILTERN. Yes.

LORD GORING. Then I will go and see him myself, and tell him that a
certain letter, written on pink paper, is to be forwarded to Robert
to-day, and that at all costs it must not reach him. [Goes to the
door, and opens it.] Oh! Robert is coming upstairs with the letter
in his hand. It has reached him already.

LADY CHILTERN. [With a cry of pain.] Oh! you have saved his life;
what have you done with mine?

[Enter SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. He has the letter in his hand, and is
reading it. He comes towards his wife, not noticing LORD GORING'S
presence.]

SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. 'I want you. I trust you. I am coming to you.
Gertrude.' Oh, my love! Is this true? Do you indeed trust me, and
want me? If so, it was for me to come to you, not for you to write
of coming to me. This letter of yours, Gertrude, makes me feel that
nothing that the world may do can hurt me now. You want me,
Gertrude?

[LORD GORING, unseen by SIR ROBERT CHILTERN, makes an imploring sign
to LADY CHILTERN to accept the situation and SIR ROBERT'S error.]

LADY CHILTERN. Yes.

SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. You trust me, Gertrude?

LADY CHILTERN. Yes.

SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. Ah! why did you not add you loved me?

LADY CHILTERN. [Taking his hand.] Because I loved you.

[LORD GORING passes into the conservatory.]

SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. [Kisses her.] Gertrude, you don't know what I
feel. When Montford passed me your letter across the table - he had
opened it by mistake, I suppose, without looking at the handwriting
on the envelope - and I read it - oh! I did not care what disgrace or
punishment was in store for me, I only thought you loved me still.

LADY CHILTERN. There is no disgrace in store for you, nor any public
shame. Mrs. Cheveley has handed over to Lord Goring the document
that was in her possession, and he has destroyed it.

SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. Are you sure of this, Gertrude?

LADY CHILTERN. Yes; Lord Goring has just told me.

SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. Then I am safe! Oh! what a wonderful thing to
be safe! For two days I have been in terror. I am safe now. How
did Arthur destroy my letter? Tell me.

LADY CHILTERN. He burned it.

SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. I wish I had seen that one sin of my youth
burning to ashes. How many men there are in modern life who would
like to see their past burning to white ashes before them! Is Arthur
still here?

LADY CHILTERN. Yes; he is in the conservatory.

SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. I am so glad now I made that speech last night
in the House, so glad. I made it thinking that public disgrace might
be the result. But it has not been so.

LADY CHILTERN. Public honour has been the result.

SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. I think so. I fear so, almost. For although I
am safe from detection, although every proof against me is destroyed,
I suppose, Gertrude . . . I suppose I should retire from public life?
[He looks anxiously at his wife.]

LADY CHILTERN. [Eagerly.] Oh yes, Robert, you should do that. It
is your duty to do that.

SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. It is much to surrender.

LADY CHILTERN. No; it will be much to gain.

[SIR ROBERT CHILTERN walks up and down the room with a troubled
expression. Then comes over to his wife, and puts his hand on her
shoulder.]

SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. And you would be happy living somewhere alone
with me, abroad perhaps, or in the country away from London, away
from public life? You would have no regrets?

LADY CHILTERN. Oh! none, Robert.

SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. [Sadly.] And your ambition for me? You used
to be ambitious for me.

LADY CHILTERN. Oh, my ambition! I have none now, but that we two
may love each other. It was your ambition that led you astray. Let
us not talk about ambition.

[LORD GORING returns from the conservatory, looking very pleased with
himself, and with an entirely new buttonhole that some one has made
for him.]

SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. [Going towards him.] Arthur, I have to thank
you for what you have done for me. I don't know how I can repay you.
[Shakes hands with him.]

LORD GORING. My dear fellow, I'll tell you at once. At the present
moment, under the usual palm tree . . . I mean in the conservatory .
. .

[Enter MASON.]

MASON. Lord Caversham.

LORD GORING. That admirable father of mine really makes a habit of
turning up at the wrong moment. It is very heartless of him, very
heartless indeed.

[Enter LORD CAVERSHAM. MASON goes out.]

LORD CAVERSHAM. Good morning, Lady Chiltern! Warmest
congratulations to you, Chiltern, on your brilliant speech last
night. I have just left the Prime Minister, and you are to have the
vacant seat in the Cabinet.

SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. [With a look of joy and triumph.] A seat in
the Cabinet?

LORD CAVERSHAM. Yes; here is the Prime Minister's letter. [Hands
letter.]

SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. [Takes letter and reads it.] A seat in the
Cabinet!

LORD CAVERSHAM. Certainly, and you well deserve it too. You have
got what we want so much in political life nowadays - high character,
high moral tone, high principles. [To LORD GORING.] Everything that
you have not got, sir, and never will have.

LORD GORING. I don't like principles, father. I prefer prejudices.

[SIR ROBERT CHILTERN is on the brink of accepting the Prime
Minister's offer, when he sees wife looking at him with her clear,
candid eyes. He then realises that it is impossible.]

SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. I cannot accept this offer, Lord Caversham. I
have made up my mind to decline it.

LORD CAVERSHAM. Decline it, sir!

SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. My intention is to retire at once from public
life.

LORD CAVERSHAM. [Angrily.] Decline a seat in the Cabinet, and
retire from public life? Never heard such damned nonsense in the
whole course of my existence. I beg your pardon, Lady Chiltern.
Chiltern, I beg your pardon. [To LORD GORING.] Don't grin like
that, sir.

LORD GORING. No, father.

LORD CAVERSHAM. Lady Chiltern, you are a sensible woman, the most
sensible woman in London, the most sensible woman I know. Will you
kindly prevent your husband from making such a . . . from taking such
. . . Will you kindly do that, Lady Chiltern?

LADY CHILTERN. I think my husband in right in his determination,
Lord Caversham. I approve of it.

LORD CAVERSHAM. You approve of it? Good heavens!

LADY CHILTERN. [Taking her husband's hand.] I admire him for it. I
admire him immensely for it. I have never admired him so much
before. He is finer than even I thought him. [To SIR ROBERT
CHILTERN.] You will go and write your letter to the Prime Minister
now, won't you? Don't hesitate about it, Robert.

SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. [With a touch of bitterness.] I suppose I had
better write it at once. Such offers are not repeated. I will ask
you to excuse me for a moment, Lord Caversham.

LADY CHILTERN. I may come with you, Robert, may I not?

SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. Yes, Gertrude.

[LADY CHILTERN goes out with him.]

LORD CAVERSHAM. What is the matter with this family? Something
wrong here, eh? [Tapping his forehead.] Idiocy? Hereditary, I
suppose. Both of them, too. Wife as well as husband. Very sad.
Very sad indeed! And they are not an old family. Can't understand
it.

LORD GORING. It is not idiocy, father, I assure you.

LORD CAVERSHAM. What is it then, sir?

LORD GORING. [After some hesitation.] Well, it is what is called
nowadays a high moral tone, father. That is all.

LORD CAVERSHAM. Hate these new-fangled names. Same thing as we used
to call idiocy fifty years ago. Shan't stay in this house any
longer.

LORD GORING. [Taking his arm.] Oh! just go in here for a moment,
father. Third palm tree to the left, the usual palm tree.

LORD CAVERSHAM. What, sir?

LORD GORING. I beg your pardon, father, I forgot. The conservatory,
father, the conservatory - there is some one there I want you to talk
to.

LORD CAVERSHAM. What about, sir?

LORD GORING. About me, father,

LORD CAVERSHAM. [Grimly.] Not a subject on which much eloquence is
possible.

LORD GORING. No, father; but the lady is like me. She doesn't care
much for eloquence in others. She thinks it a little loud.

[LORD CAVERSHAM goes out into the conservatory. LADY CHILTERN
enters.]

LORD GORING. Lady Chiltern, why are you playing Mrs. Cheveley's
cards?

LADY CHILTERN. [Startled.] I don't understand you.

LORD GORING. Mrs. Cheveley made an attempt to ruin your husband.
Either to drive him from public life, or to make him adopt a
dishonourable position. From the latter tragedy you saved him. The
former you are now thrusting on him. Why should you do him the wrong
Mrs. Cheveley tried to do and failed?

LADY CHILTERN. Lord Goring?

LORD GORING. [Pulling himself together for a great effort, and
showing the philosopher that underlies the dandy.] Lady Chiltern,
allow me. You wrote me a letter last night in which you said you
trusted me and wanted my help. Now is the moment when you really
want my help, now is the time when you have got to trust me, to trust
in my counsel and judgment. You love Robert. Do you want to kill
his love for you? What sort of existence will he have if you rob him
of the fruits of his ambition, if you take him from the splendour of
a great political career, if you close the doors of public life
against him, if you condemn him to sterile failure, he who was made
for triumph and success? Women are not meant to judge us, but to
forgive us when we need forgiveness. Pardon, not punishment, is
their mission. Why should you scourge him with rods for a sin done
in his youth, before he knew you, before he knew himself? A man's
life is of more value than a woman's. It has larger issues, wider
scope, greater ambitions. A woman's life revolves in curves of
emotions. It is upon lines of intellect that a man's life
progresses. Don't make any terrible mistake, Lady Chiltern. A woman
who can keep a man's love, and love him in return, has done all the
world wants of women, or should want of them.

LADY CHILTERN. [Troubled and hesitating.] But it is my husband
himself who wishes to retire from public life. He feels it is his
duty. It was he who first said so.

LORD GORING. Rather than lose your love, Robert would do anything,
wreck his whole career, as he is on the brink of doing now. He is
making for you a terrible sacrifice. Take my advice, Lady Chiltern,
and do not accept a sacrifice so great. If you do, you will live to
repent it bitterly. We men and women are not made to accept such
sacrifices from each other. We are not worthy of them. Besides,
Robert has been punished enough.

LADY CHILTERN. We have both been punished. I set him up too high.

LORD GORING. [With deep feeling in his voice.] Do not for that
reason set him down now too low. If he has fallen from his altar, do
not thrust him into the mire. Failure to Robert would be the very
mire of shame. Power is his passion. He would lose everything, even
his power to feel love. Your husband's life is at this moment in
your hands, your husband's love is in your hands. Don't mar both for
him.

[Enter SIR ROBERT CHILTERN.]

SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. Gertrude, here is the draft of my letter.
Shall I read it to you?

LADY CHILTERN. Let me see it.

[SIR ROBERT hands her the letter. She reads it, and then, with a
gesture of passion, tears it up.]

SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. What are you doing?

LADY CHILTERN. A man's life is of more value than a woman's. It has
larger issues, wider scope, greater ambitions. Our lives revolve in
curves of emotions. It is upon lines of intellect that a man's life
progresses. I have just learnt this, and much else with it, from
Lord Goring. And I will not spoil your life for you, nor see you
spoil it as a sacrifice to me, a useless sacrifice!

SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. Gertrude! Gertrude!

LADY CHILTERN. You can forget. Men easily forget. And I forgive.
That is how women help the world. I see that now.

SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. [Deeply overcome by emotion, embraces her.] My
wife! my wife! [To LORD GORING.] Arthur, it seems that I am always
to be in your debt.

LORD GORING. Oh dear no, Robert. Your debt is to Lady Chiltern, not
to me!

SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. I owe you much. And now tell me what you were
going to ask me just now as Lord Caversham came in.

LORD GORING. Robert, you are your sister's guardian, and I want your
consent to my marriage with her. That is all.

LADY CHILTERN. Oh, I am so glad! I am so glad! [Shakes hands with
LORD GORING.]

LORD GORING. Thank you, Lady Chiltern.

SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. [With a troubled look.] My sister to be your
wife?

LORD GORING. Yes.

SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. [Speaking with great firmness.] Arthur, I am
very sorry, but the thing is quite out of the question. I have to
think of Mabel's future happiness. And I don't think her happiness
would be safe in your hands. And I cannot have her sacrificed!

LORD GORING. Sacrificed!

SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. Yes, utterly sacrificed. Loveless marriages
are horrible. But there is one thing worse than an absolutely
loveless marriage. A marriage in which there is love, but on one
side only; faith, but on one side only; devotion, but on one side
only, and in which of the two hearts one is sure to be broken.

LORD GORING. But I love Mabel. No other woman has any place in my
life.

LADY CHILTERN. Robert, if they love each other, why should they not
be married?

SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. Arthur cannot bring Mabel the love that she
deserves.

LORD GORING. What reason have you for saying that?

SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. [After a pause.] Do you really require me to
tell you?

LORD GORING. Certainly I do.

SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. As you choose. When I called on you yesterday
evening I found Mrs. Cheveley concealed in your rooms. It was
between ten and eleven o'clock at night. I do not wish to say
anything more. Your relations with Mrs. Cheveley have, as I said to
you last night, nothing whatsoever to do with me. I know you were
engaged to be married to her once. The fascination she exercised
over you then seems to have returned. You spoke to me last night of
her as of a woman pure and stainless, a woman whom you respected and
honoured. That may be so. But I cannot give my sister's life into
your hands. It would be wrong of me. It would be unjust, infamously
unjust to her.

LORD GORING. I have nothing more to say.

LADY CHILTERN. Robert, it was not Mrs. Cheveley whom Lord Goring
expected last night.

SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. Not Mrs. Cheveley! Who was it then?

LORD GORING. Lady Chiltern!

LADY CHILTERN. It was your own wife. Robert, yesterday afternoon
Lord Goring told me that if ever I was in trouble I could come to him
for help, as he was our oldest and best friend. Later on, after that
terrible scene in this room, I wrote to him telling him that I
trusted him, that I had need of him, that I was coming to him for
help and advice. [SIR ROBERT CHILTERN takes the letter out of his
pocket.] Yes, that letter. I didn't go to Lord Goring's, after all.
I felt that it is from ourselves alone that help can come. Pride
made me think that. Mrs. Cheveley went. She stole my letter and
sent it anonymously to you this morning, that you should think . . .
Oh! Robert, I cannot tell you what she wished you to think. . . .

SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. What! Had I fallen so low in your eyes that
you thought that even for a moment I could have doubted your
goodness? Gertrude, Gertrude, you are to me the white image of all
good things, and sin can never touch you. Arthur, you can go to
Mabel, and you have my best wishes! Oh! stop a moment. There is no
name at the beginning of this letter. The brilliant Mrs. Cheveley
does not seem to have noticed that. There should be a name.

LADY CHILTERN. Let me write yours. It is you I trust and need. You
and none else.

LORD GORING. Well, really, Lady Chiltern, I think I should have back
my own letter.

LADY CHILTERN. [Smiling.] No; you shall have Mabel. [Takes the
letter and writes her husband's name on it.]

LORD GORING. Well, I hope she hasn't changed her mind. It's nearly
twenty minutes since I saw her last.

[Enter MABEL CHILTERN and LORD CAVERSHAM.]

MABEL CHILTERN. Lord Goring, I think your father's conversation much
more improving than yours. I am only going to talk to Lord Caversham
in the future, and always under the usual palm tree.

LORD GORING. Darling! [Kisses her.]

LORD CAVERSHAM. [Considerably taken aback.] What does this mean,
sir? You don't mean to say that this charming, clever young lady has
been so foolish as to accept you?

LORD GORING. Certainly, father! And Chiltern's been wise enough to
accept the seat in the Cabinet.

LORD CAVERSHAM. I am very glad to hear that, Chiltern . . . I
congratulate you, sir. If the country doesn't go to the dogs or the
Radicals, we shall have you Prime Minister, some day.

[Enter MASON.]

MASON. Luncheon is on the table, my Lady!

[MASON goes out.]

MABEL CHILTERN. You'll stop to luncheon, Lord Caversham, won't you?

LORD CAVERSHAM. With pleasure, and I'll drive you down to Downing
Street afterwards, Chiltern. You have a great future before you, a
great future. Wish I could say the same for you, sir. [To LORD
GORING.] But your career will have to be entirely domestic.

LORD GORING. Yes, father, I prefer it domestic.

LORD CAVERSHAM. And if you don't make this young lady an ideal
husband, I'll cut you off with a shilling.

MABEL CHILTERN. An ideal husband! Oh, I don't think I should like
that. It sounds like something in the next world.

LORD CAVERSHAM. What do you want him to be then, dear?

MABEL CHILTERN. He can be what he chooses. All I want is to be . .
. to be . . . oh! a real wife to him.

LORD CAVERSHAM. Upon my word, there is a good deal of common sense
in that, Lady Chiltern.

[They all go out except SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. He sinks in a chair,
wrapt in thought. After a little time LADY CHILTERN returns to look
for him.]

LADY CHILTERN. [Leaning over the back of the chair.] Aren't you
coming in, Robert?

SIR ROBERT CHILTERN. [Taking her hand.] Gertrude, is it love you
feel for me, or is it pity merely?

LADY CHILTERN. [Kisses him.] It is love, Robert. Love, and only
love. For both of us a new life is beginning.

CURTAIN