LORDS OF CREATION.
WOMAN SUFFRAGE DRAMA
IN
THREE ACTS.
BY
ELLA CHEEVER THAYER.
BOSTON:
GEO. M. BAKER & CO., PUBLISHERS.
1883.
Copyright,
1883,
BY GEORGE M. BAKER.
All rights reserved.
LORDS OF CREATION.
CHARACTERS.
Dr. Endicott, a true Man.
Mr. Grovenor, the Head of his Family.
Eugene, his Son, taking Life easy.
Harold Doughlass, with more Money than Brains.
Jim, a Coachman, much in Love.
Kate Grovenor, who has a Mind of her own.
Lizzie, a young Seamstress.
Mrs. Grovenor, Mr. Grovenor's lesser half.
Alice Grovenor, anxious for a rich Husband.
Jennie, a Chambermaid who believes in Woman's Rights.
COSTUMES.
Kate. Act I., handsome evening dress. Act II., house dress. Act III.,
black silk.
Alice. Act I., elegant evening dress. Act II., house dress. Act III.,
street costume, hat, etc.
Mrs. Grovenor. Act I., evening dress. Act II., house dress.
Act III., wrapper.
Lizzie. Act I., plain street costume. Act II. and Act III., plain
house dress.
Jennie. Pretty light calico and apron.
Dr. Endicott. Business suit.
Mr. Grovenor. Same.
Eugene. Elegant suit, rather flashy. Plain suit in Act III.
Doughlass. Elegant suit, not quite so loud as Eugene.
Jim. Handsome livery.
LORDS OF CREATION.
ACT I.
Scene--Elegant Drawing-Room. Door C., Sofa, R., Chairs, etc.
Table, L. C.
(Enter Jennie, C., holding small bouquet in her hand.)
Jennie. Here is Mr. Eugene's bouquet, and now where is Mr. Eugene? Not
here, of course, and I must be running all over the house to find him.
All a body has to do is to wait on him, that is what _he_ thinks! For
he is a lord of creation, he is! And he must have his buttonhole
bouquet, and his hair parted in the middle, and his mustache waxed, and
everybody must bow down and worship him! But after all, he isn't as bad
as his father. Oh! isn't _he_ just awful! Dear me, what a terrible
thing it must be to think yourself so superior, all on account of your
sex!
Jim (looking in, C.). May I come in?
Jen. (looking over shoulder). Oh! You are here, are you? I might have
known you would be!
Jim (coming down R. awkwardly). Yes, because I always come where you
are, if I can.
Jen. (L.) Too bad, ain't it, I don't appreciate it any better? You
haven't seen Mr. Eugene anywhere, have you?
Jim. Seen him? No! That is, not since two o'clock this morning, when
I helped him up-stairs, and he called me his darling Jim.
Jen. How awful!
Jim. I guess you would have said so if he had hugged you the way he did
me!
Jen. (coquettishly) Well, I don't know; perhaps that might not have
been quite so awful either!
Jim (walking about angrily). Just let me catch him hugging you, or any
other fellow, that's all.
Jen. Dear me! And what business would that be of yours, I should like
to know? This is a free country, sir, and I am a single woman, and
hugging isn't a crime, and no man shall dictate to me. So! (Stamps
foot.)
Jim. Who _is_ dictating? How you do fly off! You know, Jennie, I
think all the world of you!
Jen. Yes, I dare say! Men always say so _before_ they get married. I
suppose that is what our master said to our mistress once, and now see
the way he orders her about! And you would like to do the same by me,
wouldn't you? But I am altogether too smart for that, sir!
Jim. But, good gracious, Jennie, how you do fly off! Never thought of
such a thing in my life!
Jen. Oh, pshaw! Men are all alike! Now I will bet a pound of candy
that you think you know more than I do, just because you are a man!
Jim. Well--I--of course about some things.
Jen. Some things! just tell me one.
Jim. Well--I--you see it would take me some time to think.
Jen. Yes, I guess it would! Well, I have my eyes open, and I haven't
lived in this house going on a year for nothing, and seen the airs
master and Mr. Eugene give themselves! Over Miss Kate, too, who knows
more than both of them put together.
Jim (gesticulating). But, Jennie, a woman isn't _supposed_ to know as
much as a man. It isn't natural, you see! But a man likes them all the
better for it, and he likes to be looked up to, you know.
Jen. (drawing herself up). You don't say so! How sorry I am I can't
make you happy in that way. But the fact is, I'd rather have a man who
likes me for what I know and not for what I _don't_ know! So
(courtesying) I'll leave you to find a woman with less brains than you
have--_if you can_. (Exit C.)
Jim (following). Jennie! here, Jennie! She has gone and she is mad!
How she does fly off! And oh, how I do love her! Good gracious, how
I do love her! (Comes down C.) Now why on earth should she get mad
about a little thing like that! Does she want me to say every man is
a natural-born fool? Hang me if I don't believe they are, where a woman
is concerned! Here for the last six months I've been a perfect slave to
her. And all I get for it is to be told I belong to a tyrannical sex!
But I won't stand it. No, I won't! (Going. Stops at door C.) I am
afraid I can't help it, though. Oh, what an awful thing it is to be in
love! And between me and the furniture, I do believe if a woman _is_
the weaker sex, she always gets the best of a man somehow. (Exit,
L. 2 E.)
(Enter Mrs. Grovenor and Alice, C.)
Mrs. G. (as she enters). Well, no, my dear, Dr. Endicott is not a
particularly good match. But Mr. Doughlass has an immense fortune,
you know.
Alice (sits R. on sofa). Yes, but Mr. Doughlass is _such_ a bore, ma.
Mrs. G. (sitting, L.). Ah, well, a bore is better than a tyrant, child.
Alice. But there must be some men who are neither.
Mrs. G. That kind are very hard to find, and, by some strange chance,
are usually poor in purse when found. Witness Dr. Endicott, for
instance.
Alice. It would never do to marry a poor man.
Mrs. G. Do! With your extravagant tastes it would be madness. I have
no doubt Mr. Doughlass would make you a very good husband, and it is
time you were thinking of settling in life now.
Alice. But Kate is older than I am.
Mrs. G. I fear poor Kate will surely be an old maid, in spite of all I
can do. Alas! there has never been one in the family yet, and to think
one of _my_ daughters should be first to bear that stigma is terrible to
contemplate.
Alice. Isn't it strange that she _never_ tries to be attractive to
gentlemen?
Mrs. G. And she actually wants to vote. I am sure I cannot conceive
where she obtained such thoughts. Certainly not from _me_.
(Enter Kate, C.)
Kate (stopping at door). You are mistaken, mother.
Mrs. G (rising quickly). _You_ here, Kate? How you do startle one!
What do you mean by that remark?
Kate (coming down C.). I mean, mother, that I first conceived my horror
of occupying a dependent position from seeing how you were obliged to
coax and manage, to bear cross looks and sarcastic remarks, whenever
you asked father for money.
Mrs. G. (looking around alarmed). Hush! Do not speak so loud; your
father is in the library, and might hear.
Kate. I am not afraid to say to any one that I had rather earn _my_
money than have it doled out to me as a favor grudgingly bestowed.
(Sits at table L. C.)
Mrs. G. (sitting L.). I will admit, Kate, that it has always been very
hard to obtain money from your father; and now listen to reason. You
are aware that we spend every cent of our income in order to keep up our
style of living. The future of you two girls cannot be provided for by
us, so there is but one thing for you to do,--to marry.
Kate. Are you sure that is the only thing?
Mrs. G. Why, what else is there--for a woman?
Kate. Many women are independent by the fruit of their own exertions.
Why could not I be?
Mrs. G. (with slight scream). You quite shock me. Do you not know you
would lose your position in society by such a course?
Kate. I am willing to lose it, if to keep it I must barter my own
self-respect.
Mrs. G. Barter your self-respect! What _do_ you mean?
Kate. I mean sell myself for the sake of being supported in idleness.
Alice (languidly fanning herself). The idea of a lady actually wanting
to work!
Kate. _I_ cannot live on husks, Alice.
Mrs. G. I cannot understand why you should be so opposed to marriage.
Kate. You mistake me very much if you think I am. Oh, no! I know well
that the deepest and truest happiness in life is in love and marriage.
It is against making marriage a trade, degrading it to a means of
support, that I protest, with all my soul! (Rises.)
Alice. A trade! How absurd! Would you marry a poor man for love?
Kate. Without an instant's hesitation, and I would never be a dependent
burden on him! Oh! mother, can you not see how much of the misery in
the world is caused by the way girls are educated, in helpless
dependence, often obliged to sell themselves to the first man who
offers, because they cannot support themselves? Do not condemn me to
such a fate. Give me a chance to be independent of all such
considerations in my choice of a husband.
Mrs. G. (with impatient gesture). Nonsense. You are crazy.
Alice. The best thing you can do, Kate, is to set your cap for Dr.
Endicott.
Kate. I am very much mistaken in Dr. Endicott if he would deign to
notice a woman who had stooped to set her cap. (Sits L. C.)
Mrs. G. (sighing). I am sure I do not know what will become of you with
such ideas.
Mr. G. (outside). Where is Eugene? I want him.
Mrs. G. Hush! here comes your father.
Alice (starting up from reclining position). Oh, mother! _do_ try to
get some money of him for a new ball dress. Mine are shameful!
Mrs. G. I will do my best, but it is hard work. I hope you may never
know how hard when you have a husband of your own.
(Enter Mr. Grovenor, C., his hands full of papers, bills, etc.)
Mr. G. (very crossly). Where is that boy? What do these bills mean?
The expenses of this house _must_ be cut down. Do you think I am made
of money, Mrs. Grovenor?
Mrs. G. (timidly). I am very sorry. I am sure I do the best I can.
Mr. G. (sitting R. of table and looking over bills). I think you would
find a way to be more economical if you had to earn the money you spent.
It's a pity you women did not have to do it once in a while, and then
you would know how good it was.
Kate (leaning on table, earnestly). That is just what I wish to do,
father. Give me the chance and I will relieve you of the burden of my
support.
Mr. G. (staring at his own papers). You would do fine things, I dare
say. I do not believe you know exactly what you are talking about, but
then a woman never does. Now, for instance, how long do you suppose it
would take you to earn that dress you have on, at women's average wages?
Kate. I could wear a cheaper dress, if need be. I am aware that men,
in whose hands now rests the power, show their boasted "chivalry" to the
so-called "weaker sex" by paying her half they pay a man for the same
work.
Mr. G. (dropping papers angrily). What confounded folly you talk! If a
woman did her work as well as a man she would get the same wages; but
she does not. She isn't thinking of her work. When she is young she
is thinking of getting married, when she is old she is mad because she
can't.
Kate (with dignity). Pardon me, father, but I think it is you who are
talking folly.
Mr. G. Humph! I suppose you would like to vote?
Kate. I see no reason why I should not.
Mr. G. (rises and looks her over, then looks at Mrs. G.) What kind of
sentiments have you instilled into your eldest daughter, Mrs. Grovenor?
Mrs. G. _I_, Mr. Grovenor! Do Kate's remarks sound like _my_
teachings?
Mr. G. (C.). Well, no, I will acquit you of ever having any tendencies
towards doing anything to bring money into the family, Mrs. Grovenor.
Kate. Father, I have some artistic talent, I think; why may I not study
and become an artist? All I ask is that I may not be a burden on you
or any one (going to him). You will not refuse me this, father.
Mr. G. (putting arm around her). There, there, Kate, you are a good
girl, and if you was only a boy I would make something of you; but as
you are not, the best advice I can give you is to go and marry some good
man and forget these foolish ideas of yours about voting and all that
stuff. (Going, stops.) Mrs. Grovenor, send that boy to me at once, do
you hear? Here is a bill of his for champagne that is something
frightful! He certainly has inherited your extravagant taste. (Exit,
C.)
Mrs. G. (rising). There, Kate, you heard what your father said.
Perhaps you will take his advice if you will not take mine. Do you
think you can find Eugene?
Kate. I will try. (Aside.) They all discourage me, but I will not
be daunted! (Exit, L. 2 E.)
Alice. You did not say a word about my dress, mother.
Mrs. G. But he is in such a bad humor! However, I will go now and see
what can be done. Talk about earning money! I am sure I doubly earn
every cent I get from Mr. Grovenor, and always have. (Exit, C.)
Alice. I believe father grows more stingy every day. Oh, dear! I
suppose I shall have to marry that dreadful Mr. Doughlass. What a
strange girl Kate is! And yet I do not know, I am not sure but what it
would be nice to be independent.
(Enter Jennie, C.)
Jen. (coming down and handing card). Are you at home, Miss Alice?
Alice (takes it and reads). "Harold Doughlass." Yes (sighs), I suppose
so.
Jen. Yes'm. (Aside.) _He_ is one of the superior sex, and he don't
know so much as an idiot! (Exit, C.)
Alice. Now, were I independent, I should certainly have said I was
engaged and could not see him. How shall I be able to endure him for a
life time, when he bores me so for an hour?
(Enter Doughlass, eye-glass, cane, etc., C.)
Alice (rising). I am delighted to see you, Mr. Doughlass!
Doug. (C.) Aw! thank you. You are looking more chawming than ever this
evening, Miss Alice.
Alice (aside). He always says that. (Aloud.) You quite flatter me.
Please be seated. (Offers chair.)
Doug. (sitting, L.). Aw! this has been a fine day hasn't it, now?
Alice (sitting, R.). Very fine indeed.
Doug. I hope we shall have as fine to-morrow.
Alice. I hope so, truly.
Doug. But I weally feaw we shall have wain.
Alice. You quite alarm me.
Doug. Aw! I do not like wain.
Alice. Nor I. (Aside, yawning.) Can't he talk about something besides
the weather?
Doug. (adjusting eye-glasses). I hope your pawents are both well!
Alice. Quite well, thank you.
Doug. I need not ask if you are, for you look more chawming than usual!
Alice. Ah! you are very complimentary. (Aside.) How many times is he
going to say that?
Doug. Aw! yes, you are always chawming to me, you know! (Aside.) A
fellow must flatter these girls. That's the secret!
Alice. You quite confuse me. (Aside.) Is he going to propose?
Doug. Aw! I--aw--I twust you do not dislike to be confused, because I
think you chawming, you know? (Goes and sits beside her on sofa.)
Alice. Of course I am only too pleased to be so favored.
Doug. Yes--aw--and some day I shall tell you just how chawming I do
think you. You are so different from your sister, you know.
Why--aw--but weally a fellow is quite afwaid of her.
Alice. Afraid? What, you afraid of a lady?
Doug. Well, not--not exactly afwaid, of course, but you see--aw--I
never know what to say to her. We fellows do not like
these--aw--strong-minded ladies, you know. We like these--aw--gentle,
clinging, soft girls, that do not know so much, you know, of whom you,
Miss Alice, are such a chawming type!
Alice (rising). Indeed. Thanks for the implied compliment to my
intellect, sir! (Crosses to C.)
Doug. Eh? (Aside.) What the deuce did I say to put her out like that?
(Aloud.) I mean that you are vewy chawming, the style of girl we
fellows pwefer, you know. (Rises and bows low.)
Alice (aside). It will not do to get angry with him yet. But if I
marry him I'll let him know whether I have any brains or not! (Aloud.)
Indeed, Mr. Doughlass? But really, I do not think Kate so very
formidable. Ah! here she comes now. (Goes to R. C.)
Doug. I'm sorry--aw--to have our _tête-à-tête_ interrupted, and I am
sure I do not know what to say to her, nevaw do, you know!
(Enter Kate, L. 2 E., and bows to Doughlass coldly.)
Doug. (aside). She looks at a fellow in a way that fweezes him all
over. Aw--I'll flatter her. (Aloud.) Aw--you are looking as chawming
as usual, Miss Grovenor.
Kate. I am very glad if you have been so fortunate as to discover the
fact.
Doug. (aside). That always does please them, to be sure.
(Enter Eugene, L. 2. E.)
Eug. (going to C.) Well, Kittie, here I am; now where is the governor,
and what's the row? Ah, Harold, my boy, how are you? Where were you
last night? Jolly old time the boys had. But champagne does make a
fellow feel like the deuce the next day.
Kate (L.). Is it worth while to drink it, then?
Eug. Oh! come now! don't preach. Confound it, a woman is always
preaching. If they had their way a fellow would have no fun at all,
eh, Harold?
Doug. No--aw--that is, the ladies think so much of us, they want to
make us saints, you know.
Eug. Can't be done, though, eh? What is the use of living if a man
can't have a good time? (Sings.) By Jove, I am glad I wasn't born a
woman. They take things too seriously altogether. But they look up
to us, for all their preaching, eh, Harold?
Doug. (R.). To be sure--aw.
Kate. That must require quite a stretch of the imagination sometimes.
Eug. Hope that isn't personal, Kittie. Never mind, you will be proud
of me some time, only a fellow must have his fling, you know. Now I
must go and get my dose from the governor. By by, Harold, see you
again. (Exit, C.)
Kate. Poor Eugene.
Doug. I beg pardon. (Aside.) What the deuce ails her now? (Aloud.)
Poor Eugene? Why, he is the liveliest fellaw I know. The boys nevaw
think of having a champagne supper without Eugene, you know.
Kate. I am sorry if my brother is sought only for the purpose of
gracing champagne suppers and disgracing himself.
Doug. Aw--weally, now, weally, aren't you a little too severe.
Alice (C.). Of course she is. A young man must sow his wild oats.
Kate (L.). But I believe a young lady is not allowed that privilege.
What is wrong for one must be for the other?
Alice. You shock me, Kate.
Doug. Aw--weally now, 'pon my honor, that is such a strange wemark,
Miss Grovenor; a lady is of course above such things.
Kate. Then in that respect, at least, she must be superior to a man.
I am glad to hear you acknowledge even so little.
Doug. Aw--now--aw--you quite confuse me. (Aside.) I must go wight
away; never could stand these strong-minded ladies. (Aloud.) Aw--I--I
never argue with a lady, you know. But I am afwaid I shall have to tear
myself away, as I have a very particular engagement.
Alice. I am so sorry! But we shall see you again soon?
Doug. Aw--vewy soon--aw--I should only be too happy to wemain forever
in your chawming pwesence. (Kisses her hand, bows to Kate, and exit,
C.)
Alice. Well, you have driven him away. It will be very convenient to
have you around _after_ he and I are married, but previously the
experiment is too dangerous, and I shall have to ask you to be kind
enough to keep your strange ideas exclusively for our family circle.
(Exit, L. 2 E.)
Kate. Strange ideas! Is it so strange to long to be independent? Is
it strange to shrink from being a burden on an already over-burdened
father, or dependent upon the whims of some unloved husband? Is it
strange to wish to exercise the talents and energy God has given you
instead of allowing them to rust out in darkness? Does the fact of my
being a woman make me content to drift along aimlessly, in a stream that
leads nowhere? No! a thousand times, no!
(Enter Jennie, C.)
Jen. Dr. Endicott, miss.
Kate. Please ask him in.
Jen. Yes'm. (Aside.) _He_ is a man what _is_ a man. (Exit, C.)
Kate. I wonder does he, too, think me strange?
(Enter Dr. Endicott, C.)
Dr. E. (coming down L.). At last I am with you once more, where I
should have been long ago had not duty called me elsewhere.
Kate. I am delighted to welcome you. Father was saying yesterday he
wished to see you.
Dr. E. Oh, yes, there is a little business matter between us. And
what have you been doing since I was last here?
Kate. Oh, nothing.
Dr. E. Nothing? Really nothing?
Kate. Oh, I have embroidered a little, painted a little, and practised
music a little. But it all amounted to--as I said--nothing.
Dr. E. It served to pass away the time pleasantly, at least.
Kate. Yes. But is that what we are living for, to pass away time?
Dr. E. You are right. Such a life is not suited to a woman of your
temperament.
Kate. But what can I do? Father and mother object to my doing anything
that is real. Because I seek some aim in life, because I seek an
independent position, they call me unwomanly and strange.
Dr. E. Is it indeed so? Alas that these old prejudices of a by-gone
age should trammel a woman now!
Kate. I just frightened Mr. Doughlass away with my strange ideas.
Dr. E. (laughing). Poor Harold! But you cannot frighten _me_ away,
Miss Grovenor. It is just this free, untrammelled, independent woman we
need in the world now.
Kate (C.). I can feel now that I have one friend who knows and
sympathizes with me.
Dr. E. (going towards her). And who honors you above all women. Kate,
may I add that this woman I have described is the woman I want at my
fireside for my companion, friend, and my wife? There is one woman who
is all I ask, one woman whom I love, but I dare not even hope for her
favor. (Enter Eugene, C.) That woman, Kate, is-- (Takes her hand.)
Eug. (coming down C. between them). That's right, doctor, shake hands
with her, but after that keep at a discreet distance, for she hates men,
you know. Wants to vote and smoke cigars, and wear bloomers and all
that sort of thing, you know.
Kate (R.). Eugene! I am ashamed of you.
Eug. Ah, never mind me, sis. The doctor won't take too much stock in
what I say, will you, doctor. And as for you, Kit, you will get over
all those notions of yours some day and acknowledge that we men are
capable of taking care of the nation, eh, doctor?
Dr. E. (L.). Such very excellent care as we take of it!
Kate. And such pains as you take to elect none but honest men to
office!
Eug. Ha! ha! that isn't a bad one for you, sis, it's a pity you are a
woman, for you would have been a smart man and no mistake. But what the
deuce of a temper the governor is in! Making such a fuss over a little
bill for our champagne supper last night as I never heard.
Kate. I wish you would let champagne alone, Eugene.
Eug. Now don't preach. Say, can't you coax some money out of him some
way? You women know how to do that sort of thing.
Kate. I fear I am deficient in that feature of our sex.
Eug. Oh, hang it! but I must have the money some way.
(Enter Lizzie, C. Looks at Kate.)
Lizzie. Excuse me, but I was told I should find Mrs. Grovenor here.
Are you the lady?
Eug. (aside). By Jove, Lizzie, and here! (Goes to L. of Dr. E.)
Kate. Please come in and be seated. I will call mother.
Liz. (entering and going down R.). I believe she advertised for a
seamstress, and I-- (Looks at the gentlemen, screams, and sinks into
chair, R. C. Dr. E. and Kate go to her.)
Eug. (aside). This is devilish awkward. Hope she will know enough to
hold her tongue. By Jove, I'm in a fix all around. (Exit hastily, C.)
Kate (as Lizzie revives). Are you better?
Liz. Yes--I--yes, thank you. (Looking around. Aside.) He has gone.
Dr. E. The heat of the room overpowered her, doubtless. I will leave
her to your care while I go and see your father.
Kate. You will find him in the library.
Dr. E. I will soon return. (Exit, C.)
Kate (aside). She looked very strangely at the doctor before she
fainted. What can it mean?
Liz. I--I beg pardon for troubling you so much. I cannot imagine what
made me so dizzy.
Kate. I am very glad you have recovered.
Liz. Thank you. I--I will go now. (Rises.)
Kate. But I thought you wished to see my mother?
Liz. Yes--but I--I think I cannot attend to it now. (Goes up C.)
Kate (aside). There is something strange in her behavior. I will try
and find out what is the matter. Perhaps I can help her. (Aloud.) Do
not go until you are quite well. I thought you recognized the--the
gentleman who was here just now. May I ask if it was so?
Liz. (coming down R. confusedly). Yes--I--I have seen him before, in
the country, where I lived. He boarded there one summer.
Kate (L.). Then you are acquainted?
Liz. (C.). Acquainted? Have I not sat by his side hour after hour
underneath the trees and--oh! what have I said?
Kate (aside). Why do I tremble? (Aloud, going to her.) Do not fear,
child, have confidence in me and let me be your friend. I see you have
some great trouble.
Liz. Forgive me for having said what I did, but his appearance took me
so by surprise, and I have not yet recovered myself.
Kate (putting arm around her). Poor child, tell me all without fear,
and I will do anything I can to help you.
Liz. You are good and kind, I know, and I will confide in you. He--he
told me he loved me, and I--I--believed it. And I loved him with all my
heart. Life was nothing to me without him. But one day, with promises
to return soon and make me his wife, he left me and I never saw him
again until to-day. Ah! it broke my heart! it broke my heart!
(Sinks sobbing on chair, R. C.)
Kate (C., aside). And I, too, loved him. And he dared to speak of love
to me, after having ruined the happiness of this confiding child. He
whom I thought so good, so noble, who was my ideal of what a man should
be. And how unmoved he was in her presence. (Aloud.) Poor girl (goes
to Lizzie, kneels and puts her arm around her), you have my deepest
sympathy. Be brave; he is not worth those tears. I will be your friend
and comfort you all I can. Here (rising), go in this room; he will be
back soon and I do not wish you to have the pain of meeting him. What
you have told me shall be sacred. I will see you again soon. (Takes
her to R.)
Liz. Ah! thank you a thousand times for your goodness. (Exit, R.)
Kate. Yes, he is coming back. Will he speak of his love again,
trusting to her silence? His love? His noble words but now were decoys
to catch the hand of a supposed heiress by pandering to her theories.
Ah, heavens! is there no truth in the world? Unhappy, indeed, must the
woman be whose whole life is dependent on the truth or falsehood of a
man. Oh, woman's heart! who can escape the suffering its tenderness
brings? Strong-minded let me be, and deal with him as he deserves!
(Enter Dr. Endicott, C.)
Dr. E. (coming down R.). I am happy to say your father and I have
settled our little affair with mutual satisfaction; and now, Kate (going
to her), may I finish the sentence so rudely interrupted? May I dare to
ask the one woman in the world for me, to share my life?
Kate (turning from him). I should hardly think you _would_ dare, sir.
(Goes to L.)
Dr. E. Kate, do I merit that strange tone of severity?
Kate. Sir, do you think you are worthy of such a woman as you have
described?
Dr. E. No, Kate, no man is. But I would hope by her aid and the
influence of her pure example to make myself more worthy day after day.
Kate. Your hypocrisy deceives me no longer, Dr. Endicott. The man I
marry I must honor as well as love. I cannot honor you. Farewell.
(Points to door, C.)
Tableau. Music. Dr. Endicott, R.; Kate, L.