So do I. Fathers have so much to learn from their
sons nowadays.
LADY MARKBY. Really, dear? What?
MRS. CHEVELEY. The art of living. The only really Fine Art we have
produced in modern times.
LADY MARKBY. [Shaking her head.] Ah! I am afraid Lord Brancaster
knew a good deal about that. More than his poor wife ever did.
[Turning to LADY CHILTERN.] You know Lady Brancaster, don't you,
dear?
LADY CHILTERN. Just slightly. She was staying at Langton last
autumn, when we were there.
LADY MARKBY. Well, like all stout women, she looks the very picture
of happiness, as no doubt you noticed. But there are many tragedies
in her family, besides this affair of the curate. Her own sister,
Mrs. Jekyll, had a most unhappy life; through no fault of her own, I
am sorry to say. She ultimately was so broken-hearted that she went
into a convent, or on to the operatic stage, I forget which. No; I
think it was decorative art-needlework she took up. I know she had
lost all sense of pleasure in life. [Rising.] And now, Gertrude, if
you will allow me, I shall leave Mrs. Cheveley in your charge and
call back for her in a quarter of an hour. Or perhaps, dear Mrs.
Cheveley, you wouldn't mind waiting in the carriage while I am with
Lady Brancaster. As I intend it to be a visit of condolence, I
shan't stay long.
MRS. CHEVELEY [Rising.] I don't mind waiting in the carriage at all,
provided there is somebody to look at one.
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