In spite of what I hear of her, I must see her at once.
Let her be sent for.
Chasuble. [Looking off.] She approaches; she is nigh.
[Enter Miss Prism hurriedly.]
Miss Prism.
I was told you expected me in the vestry, dear Canon.
I have been waiting for you there for an hour and three-quarters. [Catches sight of Lady Bracknell, who has fixed her with a stony glare.
Miss Prism grows pale and quails.
She looks anxiously round as if desirous to escape.]
Lady Bracknell. [In a severe, judicial voice.] Prism!
[Miss Prism bows her head in shame.]
Come here, Prism!
[Miss Prism approaches in a humble manner.]
Prism!
Where is that baby?
[General consternation.
The Canon starts back in horror.
Algernon and Jack pretend to be anxious to shield Cecily and Gwendolen from hearing the details of a terrible public scandal.]
Twenty-eight years ago, Prism, you left Lord Bracknell's house, Number 104, Upper Grosvenor Street, in charge of a perambulator that contained a baby of the male sex.
You never returned.
A few weeks later, through the elaborate investigations of the Metropolitan police, the perambulator was discovered at midnight, standing by itself in a remote corner of Bayswater.
It contained the manuscript of a three-volume novel of more than usually revolting sentimentality.
[Miss Prism starts in involuntary indignation.]
But the baby was not there!
[Every one looks at Miss Prism.]
Prism! Where is that baby?
[A pause.]
Miss Prism.
Lady Bracknell, I admit with shame that I do not know.
I only wish I did.
The plain facts of the case are these.
On the morning of the day you mention, a day that is for ever branded on my memory, I prepared as usual to take the baby out in its perambulator.
I had also with me a somewhat old, but capacious hand-bag in which I had intended to place the manuscript of a work of fiction that I had written during my few unoccupied hours.
In a moment of mental abstraction, for which I never can forgive myself, I deposited the manuscript in the basinette, and placed the baby in the hand-bag.
Jack. [Who has been listening attentively.] But where did you deposit the hand-bag?
Miss Prism.
Do not ask me, Mr. Worthing.
Jack.
Miss Prism, this is a matter of no small importance to me.
I insist on knowing where you deposited the hand-bag that contained that infant.
Miss Prism.
I left it in the cloak-room of one of the larger railway stations in London.
Jack.
What railway station?
Miss Prism. [Quite crushed.] Victoria.
The Brighton line. [Sinks into a chair.]
Jack.
I must retire to my room for a moment.
Gwendolen, wait here for me.
Gwendolen.