You Never Can Tell

mother for you! Gloria Steadfastly. Yes: a good mother. Crampton And a bad father? That’s what you mean, eh? Valentine Rising indignantly and addressing Gloria. Miss Clandon: I⁠— Crampton Turning on him. That girl’s name is Crampton, Mr. Valentine, not Clandon. Do you wish to join them in insulting me? Valentine Ignoring him. I’m overwhelmed, Miss Clandon. It’s all my fault: I brought him here: I’m responsible for him. And I’m ashamed of him. Crampton What d’y’ mean? Gloria Rising coldly. No harm has been done, Mr. Valentine. We have all been a little childish, I am afraid. Our party has been a failure: let us break it up and have done with it. She puts her chair aside and turns to the steps, adding, with slighting composure, as she passes Crampton. Goodbye, father. She descends the steps with cold, disgusted indifference. They all look after her, and so do not notice the return of the waiter from the hotel, laden with Crampton’s coat, Valentine’s stick, a couple of shawls and parasols, a white canvas umbrella, and some camp stools. Crampton To himself, staring after Gloria with a ghastly expression. Father! Father!! He strikes his fist violently on the table. Now⁠— Waiter Offering the coat. This is yours, sir, I think, sir. Crampton glares at him; then snatches it rudely and comes down the terrace towards the garden seat, struggling with the coat in his angry efforts to put it on. McComas rises and goes to his assistance; then takes his hat and umbrella from the little iron table, and turns towards the steps. Meanwhile the waiter, after thanking Crampton with unruffled sweetness for taking the coat, offers some of his burden to Phil. The ladies’ sunshades, sir. Nasty glare off the sea today, sir: very trying to the complexion, sir. I shall carry down the camp stools myself, sir. Philip You are old, Father William; but you are the most considerate of men. No: keep the sunshades and give me the camp stools. Taking them. Waiter With flattering gratitude. Thank you, sir. Philip Finch: share with me. Giving him a couple. Come along. They go down the steps together. Valentine To the waiter. Leave me something to bring down⁠—one of these. Offering to take a sunshade. Waiter Discreetly. That’s the younger lady’s, sir. Valentine lets it go. Thank you, sir. If you’ll allow me, sir, I think you had better have this. He puts down the sunshades on Crampton’s chair, and produces from the tail pocket of his dress coat, a book with a lady’s handkerchief between the leaves, marking the page. The eldest young lady is reading it at present. Valentine takes it eagerly. Thank you, sir. Schopenhauer, sir, you see. He takes up the sunshades again. Very interesting author, sir: especially on the subject of ladies, sir. He goes down the steps. Valentine, about to follow him, recollects Crampton and changes his mind. Valentine Coming rather excitedly to Crampton. Now look here, Crampton: are you at all ashamed of yourself? Crampton Pugnaciously. Ashamed of myself! What for? Valentine For behaving like a bear. What will your daughter think of me for having brought you here? Crampton I was not thinking of what my daughter was thinking of you. Valentine No, you were thinking of yourself. You’re a perfect maniac. Crampton Heartrent. She told you what I am⁠—a father⁠—a father robbed of his children. What are the hearts of this generation like? Am I to come here after all these years⁠—to see what my children are for the first time! to hear their voices!⁠—and carry it all off like a fashionable visitor; drop in to lunch; be Mr. Crampton⁠—Mister Crampton! What right have they to talk to me like that? I’m their father: do they deny that? I’m a man, with the feelings of our common humanity: have I no rights, no claims? In all these years who have I had round me? Servants, clerks, business acquaintances. I’ve had respect from them⁠—aye, kindness. Would one of them have spoken to me as that girl spoke?⁠—would one of them have laughed at me as that boy was laughing at me all the time? Frantically. My own children! Mister Crampton! My⁠— Valentine Come, come: they’re only children. The only one of them that’s worth anything called you father. Crampton Wildly. Yes: “goodbye, father.” Oh, yes: she got at my feelings⁠—with a stab! Valentine Taking this in very bad part. Now look here, Crampton: you just let her alone: she’s treated you very well. I had a much worse time of it at lunch than you. Crampton You! Valentine With growing impetuosity. Yes: I. I sat next to her; and I never said a single thing to her the whole time⁠—couldn’t think of a blessed word. And not a word did she say to me. Crampton Well? Valentine Well? Well??? Tackling him very seriously and talking faster and faster. Crampton: do you know what’s been the matter with me today? You don’t suppose, do you, that I’m in the habit of playing such tricks on my patients as I played on you? Crampton I hope not. Valentine The explanation is that I’m stark mad, or rather that I’ve never been in my real senses before. I’m capable of anything: I’ve grown up at last: I’m a Man; and it’s your daughter that’s made a man of me. Crampton Incredulously. Are you in love with my daughter? Valentine His words now coming in a perfect torrent. Love! Nonsense: it’s something far above and beyond that. It’s life, it’s faith, it’s strength, certainty, paradise⁠— Crampton Interrupting him with acrid contempt. Rubbish, man! What have you to keep a wife on? You can’t marry her. Valentine Who wants to marry her? I’ll kiss her hands; I’ll kneel at her feet; I’ll live for her; I’ll die for her; and that’ll be enough for me. Look at