which we have both
worn--[_takes up the dress, which is lying on a chair in the corner_]--be
the symbol of that internal robe which costumes our united souls, woven
from the texture of our affections," without my spectacles?

_El_. Mr Gresham, how dare you talk such nonsense? The texture of our
affections indeed! mine are dead--basely, foully murdered. Oh, was ever
woman so cruelly humiliated?

_Ad_. Nay, Elaine, I merely wished to prove to you that your aversion
for me was entirely unfounded. You have proved to me that your love for
Adolphus, in the abstract, is as baseless and unsubstantial. I am not
sorry under the circumstances that it should have been murdered, for it
was a poor exotic. Let us not attempt to analyse the mysterious nature
of that passion which is too precious a plant to tear up by the roots in
order to discover the origin of its existence, but learn rather from this
lesson, so painful to us both, that there are more things in heaven and
earth than are dreamt of even in the philosophy of Comte, the doctrines
of the aesthete, or the politics of Mr Gladstone. And now, Elaine,
farewell,--this time you need not fear my coming back from Naples.
[_Moves towards the door and lingers_.]

[Elaine _puts her face between her hands and sobs convulsively_.

_Ad_. Elaine, dear Elaine [_returns softly and takes her hand_], do you
wish me to go?

[Elaine _shakes her head_.

_Ad_. Do you wish me to stay?

[Elaine _shakes her head_.

_Ad_. What do you wish me to do? I must do either one or the other.
Shall I stay and go alternately, or shall we make a fresh start, without
prejudice, as the lawyers say?

_El_. Oh, how heartlessly you talk! What do I care what the lawyers
say? Can't you see how miserable I am, and how hollow everything seems
all at once? I don't believe in any one, and I don't feel as if I knew
anything, except that love is an inexplicable phenomenon of matter. I
shall become an agnostic.

_Re-enter_ Lord _and_ Lady Gules.

_Lord G_. Well, have you two young people come to an understanding? Take
my word for it, Elaine, an ounce of practice is worth a pound of theory
in love-affairs, and be thankful if the man is willing to become your
husband, who has had sufficient common-sense to teach you the lesson.
Holloa! whom have we here?

_Enter_ Charles _with cards_.

_Lord G_. [_reads_]. "Dr and Mrs Plumper and Mr Flamm, to inquire for
Lady Elaine Bendore." Oho! our frie