George. Tell her--nothing. But should anything (feeling casually in his pockets) happen to me--if (going over them again quickly) I do not come back, then (searching them all, including the waistcoat ones, in desperate haste), give her--give her--give her (triumphantly bringing his handkerchief out of the last pocket) this, and say that my last thought was of her. Good-bye, my old friend. Good-bye. [Exit to Rocky Mountains. Enter Isobel. Isabel. Why, where's Mr Turnbull? Henry (sadly). He's gone. Isabel. Gone? Where? Henry. To the Rocky Mountains--to shoot bears. (Feeling that some further explanation is needed.) Grizzly ones. Isobel. But he was HERE a moment ago. Henry. Yes, he's only JUST gone. Isobel. Why didn't he say good-bye? (Eagerly.) But perhaps he left a message for me? (Henry shakes his head.) Nothing? (Henry bows silently and leaves the room.) Oh! (She gives a cry and throws herself on the sofa.) And I loved him! George, George, why didn't you speak? Enter George hurriedly. He is fully dressed for a shooting expedition in the Rocky Mountains, and carries a rifle under his arm. George (to the audience). I have just come back for my pocket-handkerchief. I must have dropped it in here somewhere. (He begins to search for it, and in the ordinary course of things comes upon Isobel on the sofa. He puts his rifle down carefully on a table, with the muzzle pointing at the prompter rather than at the audience, and staggers back.) Merciful heavens! Isobel! Dead! (He falls on his knees beside the sofa.) My love, speak to me! Isobel (softly). George! George. She is alive! Isobel! Isobel. Don't go, George! George. My dear, I love you! But when I heard that you were another's, honour compelled me-- Isobel (sitting up quickly). What do you mean by another's? George. You said you were engaged! Isobel (suddenly realizing how the dreadful misunderstanding arose which nearly wrecked two lives). But I only meant I was engaged to play tennis with Lady Carbrook! George. What a fool I have been! (He hurries on before the audience can assent.) Then, Isobel, you WILL be mine? Isobel. Yes, George. And you won't go and shoot nasty bears, will you, dear? Not even grizzly ones? George (taking her in his arms). Never, darling. That was only (turning to the audience with the air of one who is making his best point) A Slight Misunderstanding. CURTAIN. "MISS PRENDERGAST"