'ffS C. HADDON CHAMBERS THE AWAKENING A COMEDY IN FOUR ACTS Walter H. Baker 6 Co., Boston THE AMAZONS ^^^^ ^ Three Acts. Seven males, five females. Costumes, modern ; scenery, not difficult. Plays a full evening. THE CABINET MINISTER f^rcem Pour Acts. Ten males, nine females. Costumes, modern society ; scenery, three interiors. Plays a full evening. DANDY DICE ^^^'^ ^ Three Acts. Se^en males, four females. Costumes, modern ; scenery, t\?o interiors. Plays two hours and a half. THE fiAY LORD ODEX ^^^^^^^^^y^^o^-^cts. Four males, ten " females. Costumes, modern ; scenery, two interiors and an exterior. Plays a full evening. HIS HOUSE IN ORDER comedy in Four Acts. Nine males, four MRVvt^H lii VAVi^n females. Costumes, modern ; scenery, three interiors. Plays a full evening. THE HOBBY HORSE ^^^^^ ^ Three Acts. Ten males, five females. Costumes, modern; scenery easy. Plays two hours and a half. IRIS I^^^'"'^*^ Fi^Q-^cts. Seven males, seven females. Costumes, modem ; scenery, three interiors. Plays a full evening. LADY BOUNTIFUL ^^^ ^ ^^^^ '^°*** ^^^* males, seven fe- males. Costumes, modern ; scenery, four in- teriors, not easy. Plays a full evening. LFTTY ^'^™* ^ Four Acts and an Epilogue. Ten males, five fe- ^ males. Costumes, modem ; scenery complicated. Plays a full evening Sent prepaid on receipt of price by Waltn ^. QBafeer & Company No. 5 Hamilton Place, Boston, Massachusetts THE ^AWAKENING Digitized by the Internet Archive in 2007 with funding from IVIicrosoft Corporation http://www.archive.org/details/awakeningplayinfOOchamrich THE AWAKENING a piag in jFour ^cts BY C. HADDON CHAMBERS All rights reserved under the International Copyright Act, Performance forbidden, and right of representation reserved. Application for the right of performing the above piece must be made to Charles Frohman, Empire Theatre, New York. BOSTON: WALTER H. BAKER & CO. THE AWAKENING. COPYBIGHT, 1903, BY "WALTER H. BAKER & CO. All rights reserved. PLEASE READ CAREFULLY. The acting rights of this play are reserved by the author. Performance is strictly forbidden unless his express consent, or that of his representatives, has first been obtained, and attention is called to the pen- alties provided by law* for any infringements of his rights, as follows : - - •'' Seg. 4906: — * ry person publicly performing or representing ;*^t?y;draii(»a';i<; or rarsical coiiipositiqin for Avhich copyright has been ' oKMned, without th? cors-ent cf +ke proprietor of said dramatic or musical composition, or his heirs and assigns, shall be liable for damages therefor, snch damages in all cases to be assessed at such sum, not less than one hundred dollars for the first and fifty dollars for every subsequent performance, as to the court shall appear to be just. If the unlawful performance and representation be wilful and for profit, such person or persons shall be guilty of a misde- meanor, and upon conviction be imprisoned for a perio.d not exceed- ing one year."— U. S. Revised Statutes, Title 60, Chap. 3. PERSONS CONCERNED Mr. James St. John Trower, Private Secretary to the Foreign Secretary (35). Mr. Cecil Bird (24). Lord Reginald Dugdalb (40). Jarvis, Trower's Butler. The Countess of Warristor (4oy. Miss Prescott (30). Mrs. Herbertson (34). The Lady Margaret Staines (26). Miss Olive Lawrence (22). Mrs. Selby (60). Period— 1901. 4oin.«^fi ORIGINAL CAST OF ''THE AWAKENING" Mr. James St. John Trower . Mr. George Alexander. Mr. Cecil Bird Mr. A. E. MATTHEWS. Lord Reginald Dii^dale . . . Mr. H. B. Irving. Jarvis, Mr. H. H. VincenT. Butler ...'....,. Mr. R. E. Goddard. The Countess of Warristor . . MRS. Kemmis. Miss Prescott MiSS GRANVILLE. Mrs. Herhertson MiSS JuLlE Opp. Mrs. Sdhy MiSS M. TALBOT. The Lady Margaret Staines . MiSS GERTRUDE KINGSTON. Miss Olive Lawrence .... MiSS Fay Davis. INTRODUCTORY NOTE. ** The Awakening," the second of Mr. C. Haddon Cham- bers plays to be offered to the American reading public, parallels its predecessor in the admirable technical quali- ties of construction, of adroit selection and presentation of character, and fortunate choice of incident, in its free- dom from merely theatrical expedients, its frequent wit and abundant woof of humor, that comes to the surface of his story whenever his fabric will permit. But it walks wide of the other in the choice of its subject, which dips far deeper into the pool of human life and brings up stranger things. In "The Tyranny of Tears," Mr. Chambers was con- tent to merely shave human nature, with delightful neat- ness and despatch, to the sole and commendable end of making it festally presentable; and the success of his literary barbering in the theatre answered accurately to its great merit. In its adroit, unhackneyed and satisfying treatment of the commonplace it demanded for him a station high amonghis fellow-craftsman, for it is the privi- lege of the very highest rank alone to give the accolade of distinction to the humble and unconsidered. So assured a thing is Mr. Chambers' preferment that he must not be rashly blamed for throwing off the mask with an easy confidence, after the manner of surely seated tyrants of all time, and showing to his subjugated public a frown in place of the smiling subservience with which he won them. This is only human, after all, and cannot be too harshly rebuked. But it may be respectfully pointed out that, in '* The Awakening," shaving has given place Vlll INTKODUCTOUr NOTE. to surgery, and that our author now draws blood. It is minor surgery, perhaps, and looks forward to no possi- bility, even, of a tragic event, but it is a more serious business than of old, goes deeper into life, and sets us thinking of matters beneath the pleasant surface that he has so successfully illustrated elsewhere. " The Awakening " concerns itself with a crisis in the life of Mr. James St. John Trower, a general practitioner in sentiment, who during a long and industrious career of love-making, has sedulously avoided the narrowing and confining influences that necessarily cramp the efforts of the specialist who may devote himself to one woman only. He is described as a " Juggernaut in trousers," by an acute if hyperbolical critic of his conduct, and is, in fact, that generally reprobated personage, a male flirt. It is a curious fact that goes far to rob the privilege of being a "lord of creation" of much of its attractiveness that while a coquette may serve the ends of the drama without disaster, and may even contribute by her heartless conduct to swell the sum of merriment in comedy without endangering the happy ending so beloved of theatre-goers, the introduction of a male trifler into the affairs of the stage straightway leads to trouble. It is thus Trower' s sex rather than his conduct that makes it difficult to describe "The Awakening" as a comedy and quenches its other- wise gaiety with tears. He is neither as unusual nor as contemptible a type as it is the fashion to regard him, nor can he fail to awaken a sneaking sympathy in the minds of the large number of men who have neither undergone the vaccination of a serious attachment nor incurred the artificial responsibilities of matrimony. To all such this somewhat unsympathetic hero will appeal in a sneaking fashion, and not in vain, even if the sympathy INTRODUCTORY NOTE. ix may not be expressed. With all others the unfortunate protagonist must fight a losing fight for three acts and gain at the end little more than a drawn battle with their sympathies. Yet apart from his unfortunate sentimental automatism, he is not a bad fellow, who has "never lied to a man in his life," and who would never have lied to women, had not their hasty and unexpected deductions from his words forced this repugnant expedient upon his good nature. Trower is singularly unfortunate, as heroes go, in having to perpetrate his enormities of conduct upon two women of quite unusual charm if of widely different character. Had he trifled with less valuable human material, less coveted by other males in that inevitable process of identi- fication that gives the drama zest, he might have come out better. For every man that really loves his theatre p?.ays every part vicariously, being thus cheaply brave, beautiful, generous, noble or self-sacrificing, so long as the matter is flattering or in agreement with his tastes, but instantly critical and free of the author's yoke when it is no longer so. This point, upon which slenderly but securely spins the popularity of the acted drama, presses painfully upon Trower, hopelessly enslaved by the text. For both Lady Margaret Staines and Olive Lawrence, the latter played in the original production by an American, Miss Fay Davis, are drawn with quite unusual charm and presented at the criti- cal point of the play in a scene of quite exceptional poig- nancy. Nothing less than a miracle can extenuate the man whose conduct brought about the fairly brutal situa- tion at the end of Act III, and Trower' s later apology, while effective in itself, cannot be regarded as ample when looked at fairly down the long perspective of the whole play. X INTRODUCTORY NOTE. To the catholic lover of human nature "The Awaken- ing" presents an interesting and effective combination of character; to the more or less conventional thealre-goeronly is it repugnant to see a hero that is unheroic, for nothing is more cordially disapproved and hated by this steadfast supporter of the drama than his own particular traits and weaknesses — whenever he is not obliged to recognize them as his own. So far as abundant humor, graceful and vigor- ous dialogue, fresh and interesting types of supplementary character, and adroit employment of them can divert at- tention from this halting protagonist, Mr. Chambers has protected him ; but like the eloquent and able advocate of a losing cause, he gains more admiration for himself than mercy for his client. This play was first produced in London at the St. James's Theatre, on February 6th, 1901, under the man- agement of Mr. George Alexander. The following note, by the author, regarding its first production, will be read with keen interest. " ' The Awakening' was presented at the saddest period in recent English history. Mr. George Alexander, the manager, and Mr. Haddon Chambers, the author, were beginning to conduct a dress rehearsal of the play when word came in that the illness of Her Majesty Queen Victoria had taken a very serious turn. The rehearsal was immediately abandoned out of respect to the beloved Queen, and two hours later the Empire was thrown into unprecedented grief by the announcement that Her Majesty was dead. '•Four days after the great Queen's funeral, 'The Awakening ' was produced. The entire house was of course in the deepest mourning. It was the first new play in the English language produced under the reign of King INTRODUCTORY NOTE. XI Edward VII, and the first new play of the Twentieth Cen- tury. The principal parts were performed by Mr. George Alexander, Miss Fay Davis, Miss Gertrude Kingston, Miss Charlotte Granville, Mr. C. F. Mathews, Mr. H. B. Irving, Julie Opp, and Mr. Vincent. The play was very en- thusiastically received, and was critically and apprecia- tively reviewed in the press. In " The Awakening " there is no question of "a problem," but there is a very serious lesson. There are many St. John Trowers in the world, and to most of them, perhaps, no awakening ever comes, but he would surely be a hard man who could live through the scenes with Olive Lawrence and Lady Margaret Staines drawn so uncompromisingly in the play without having the eyes of his soul opened to a just view of self indulgence, and the indifiference to the wound inflicted upon the hearts of others which have marked the conduct of his life." F. E. Chase. Dec. 271h, 1902. THE AWAKENING ACT I Scene. — Trower's rooms. A drawing-Toom^ charm- ingly done — Louis XV. A door up L.C. leads to staircase. Door C. leads to another room. Door R. leads to bedroom. It is evening, after dinner. Cigarettes, matches, spirit stand, and soda water, ^c, on L. table. \0n curtain Hsing, Lord Keginald Dugdale, Miss Prescott, Cecil Bird, and Mrs. Herbertson are playing Bridge, Mrs. H. and Bird are partners, and tJie former, whose partner has mxide trumps, is playing the two hands. The play is silent for a few moments. Miss P. brightens up consider- ably, and plays in a rapid and determined way. Lord E.. watches her play. Oecii* hesitates before playing. Miss P. \To Bird.] Don't ruminate, Cecil. Play your ace. You can't take it to heaven with you. [Bird plays. Miss P. ylaysfrom Reggie's hand third, Mrs. H. plays fourthy 3 THE A WAKENING Miss P. fahes the trick. One more round is played in the same order^ completing the hand. Mrs. H. Cecil loves to hug his aces. Bird. Cecil worries along quite well at Bridge, thank you all for kind solicitude. Lord R. [Goes hack to his seat.^ Three hearts, partner, and I had three honours. Twenty-four below and six- teen above — that's game — game all. [He marks. Miss P. gathers cards up and makes them. Bird. [Also marking.^ Cecil made enough last week at the game to pay all going about expenses. [Miss P. cuts for Bird. Mrs. H. Such as cabs, tips, button-holes, eh ? Bird. [Dealing ca7'ds.'\ No, not buttonholes — ^my florist has faith. Cabs, tips, and laundry. Cabmen, ser- vants, and laundresses have no faith, and so Bridge becomes a blessing to the very poor. [Finished dealing ^ all take cards up and sort them. THE A WAKENING Miss P. Did you ever wake up in the middle of the night and remember you had forgotten to mark " chicane ** ? Bird. Rather, it's horrid ! [Pause and look through cards. ] No trumps ! [Reggie plays a card, Mes. H. lays hera on table. Miss P. Of course. Bird. One has to play the game. Lord R, Shall I play, partner? Miss P. Please. I call it a mean, grasping game to make it notories every time. Jim — Jim — [Trowee enters C. Trower. [By Miss P.] What can I do for anybody ? Miss P. I ask you to look at these cards. Trower. Most uncheerful. [All laugh. 4 THE A WAKENING Miss P. You wouldn't laugh if you had sat like a stuck pig behind the cards I've held to-night. Mrs. H. I hope you've something to call no trumps on. [Bird passes his cards to Mse. H. ; she looks throwjh thfi^m, and hands them back. Reggie leads. Bird follows from Mrs. H.'s handy which is spread on table. The play goes on in silence. The tricks each time are gathered by Miss P. Mrs. H. [After sixth hand.] There, you see, we're caught in spades. Really, Cecil, it's too tiresome of you. [One more round played in silence. Miss P. Bravo, partner ! How many is that t Reggib. Seven. Miss P. I think we can give them the rest, Trower. [Who can see Mrs. H/s hand.] Yes, the rest are theirs. [ The hands are thrown dotvn. THE A WAKENING 5 Lord R. [Marking.] Twelve below, and honours? Miss P. [Promptly.] Easy. BiBD. It afflicts me to contradict you, Miss Prescott, but I had two aces and my partner had one. Lord B>. [Marking.] Thirty above. [Mrs. H. cuts to Reggie. Bird marks. Miss P. Smile, Cecil, smile. Mrs. H. [Crossly.] I wish he wouldn't play such an asi- nine game when I'm his partner. Miss P. Smile, Cecil. [Lord R. dealSf Trower moves down L. of table, and stands below it — between Reggie and Cecil. Miss P. I do love a cheerful loser. Bird. Very dear and charming lady, I*m not quite sure that you are sound on the question of cheerful losing. 6 THE A WAKENING Miss P. What ? Reggie, am I a good loser ? I ask you. Reggie. The best in the world. Miss P. I really think I am, considering I have only a miserable sixteen hundred a year, every penny of which goes on my back. [Laughter from hack room.'] What is Margaret doing, Jim ? [Enter Jarvis L., with two packs of cards on small tray. He moves down to L. table J on which he places cards. Trower. Playing Lady Warristor Ja, match at double dummy, and, as usual, losing everything but her temper. Miss P. Margaret! She is never cross with any one but me. Trower. The privilege of one's best friend 1 Jarvis. Can I speak to you for a moment, sir ? [Jarvis airanges spirit-stand on tdble^ then gives Trower a look. Trower goes to him L.C., helow L. couch. THE A WAKENING 7 Jarvis. [Below L. sofa.] A young lady called and asked for you just now, sir. Trower. A young lady — most unusuaL Jarvis. [Discreetly.] Yes, sir. Trowbr, What name did she give ? Jarvis. None, sir. She asked if you were alone, and when I said you had friends, she said it didn't matter, and drove away in her cab. Trower. What was she like, Jarvis ? [The players gather and sort their cards, Jarvis. Most becoming young lady, sir. I'm sure it wasn't a charity case. Trower. Dark or fair ? Jarvis. Dark, sir — and very pleasing. 8 THE A WA KENING Teower. Thank you, Jarvia Miss P. [Looking at her cards in disgust."] Oh — oh — oh! Jim, come here! [Shows her cards.'] Now I ask you [Trower goes up to R. of her. Lord R. [Firmly.] Partner, I make it hearts. [Jarvis exits L. Miss P. [In despair.] And he makes it hearts. No, really, I could not play — it makes me too nervous. Take them, somebody 1 [Rises, and hangs cards on table. Tbower, who is on her R., takes them. Trower. [Soothingly.] But your hand goes down. [Mrs. H. leads a cardy Trower puts hi» down on table. Miss P. [Leainn^ her chxtir^ moves up 0.] I don't care whether it goes down or up. It's too disgusting! I couldn't take a trick — my highest card's a ten. You play it for me, or put it down, or throw it THE A WAKENING 9 out of tbe window. I'm far too nervous. I'll pay when the score's made up — I loathe the game. \Red and flurried she gets away C. from Trower, and goes into the other room C. 2'he others watch her exit. Troweb takes Miss P.'s place in the game. Bird. Keally, that dear lady's temper Lord R, Temper ! Konsense ! Play. [REGGIE plays a card from Trower's hand, Cecil plays second after Reggie says Flay, Reggie thirdy Mrs. H. fourth, Trower picks up tricks, Reggie leads each time. Trower. [After third hand.] No diamonds, partner. Lord R. Ko diamonds 1 Mrs. H. How dull! Bird. I call it beastly luck ! [Flay proceeds till Lord R. throws down last six cards. Trower. Excellent! Bird. [Crossly. 1 Simply beastly ! lO THE A WA KENINQ Lord R. Three hearts, twenty-four ; game and rubber — and four honours in one hand — sixt} -four above. \hlake8 up score and account. [Pause. Bird also makes up account^ Tbower and Mrs. H. looking on. Bird. What do you make it, Lord Reginald? Lord R. A hundred and eighty-four points — forty-six shillings ; and a pound the rubber — three pounds six Bird. That's it — it ruins my average for the week ; you may say what you like, but Miss Prescott's temper is enough to spoil any game. Lord R. [Rise, and drag chair over to R. table and ^t.\ Miss Prescott is always delightful 1 Mrs. H. [Rise, and cross at hack and down to L. sofa.'\ 111 settle with you at lunch to-morrow, Reggie. Lord R. Whenever you like, dear friend. Bird. [Who is adding figures in a little hook."] Oh, bother! Trower. What's the matter, Cecil ? THE A WAKENING II Bird. I foresee a week of self -denial, Trower. Start it witli a whisky and soda. \At apirit'Stand. [Mrs. H. is down at couch L. Trower crosses to back of L.C. couch. Bird rises and moves to R. of card-table. Bird. No, thanks. [Closes his book.] Eight pounds seven and six the wrong side of the week. Lord R. [Yawning.'] Poor old man! Bird. [Sits on edge of card-table.] No small luxuries next week — no self-indulgences — no pleasant little sins. Mrs. H. No riding in cabs. Bird. No, no cabs! I can't ride in 'buses because I look out of place, and I can't walk because I have a corn. Lord R. Is papa still obdurate ? Bird. Papa is a beast I 12 THE A WAKENING Lord R. You shouldn't say that. I remember my dear old father — the best that ever lived — [Reggie takes a cigarette and lights it. Bird makes a grimace and goes u]> C, a qvick exit into the other rooni] — saying to me once— bless me, I can see him now — you never met the old man, did you ? — [Leans hackf thinking Bird is still there.'] — I say, you never met — \_Looks round, rises and folloios Cecil off, saying^ — I say, you never met the old man, did you % [Goes out slowly after Bird, 0. Trower. [To Mrs. H.] Shall we make up another rubber? Mrs. H. [On L. couch."] No, I shall have to go on to the Fullboroughs in a few moments. Smoke! [Trower takes cigarette from L. table.] Sit and talk to me, and try not to look so hlase. How long it is since we have been alone together I Trower. [Sits C] I assure you, my dear Edith, that beastly Foreign Office — Mrs. H. Nothing could wound me so much as an excuse from you, Jim. THE A WAKENING 13 Trower. Of course. Anyway, you know the Chief, and can imagine that since this African trouble — Mrs. H. His lordship is fortunate in his private secretary. Trower. One tries, and of course it's enormouslj inter- esting — Mrs. H. You've not lost your ambition ? Trower. No, I think I shall go on all right. Mrs. H. Some day I shall look up to you from afar and say, " There is the great man with whom I once had a sweet friendship." Trower. iWWh. a light laugh.'] But why the distance? Mrs. H. Because a breach either closes or widens. Trower. My dear Edith, you alarm me. Is there a breach 9 Mrs. H. I used to see you at least once a week. H THE AWAKENING Trower. This wretched war — The truth is, I have been nowhere lately. Mrs. H. Bruton Street, for eicample? Trower. \With affected thoughtfulness.'] Bruton Street, Bruton Street, let me see — who's in Bruton Street ? Mrs. H. [Imitating him.] Yes — who is in Bruton Street? How provoking ! Trower. There's old Admiral Golding. Mrs. H. Yes, and the Martin eaus at 207 — and — and Lady Staines at 103. [Sweetly.] Dear Margaret — Trower. Ah ! now I remember, I did call on Margaret one day. Mrs. H. Then your brougham has been even more de- voted. Three times this week these eyes have seen it at Margaret's door. Trower. My dear Edith, you must have — [Rise. THE AWAKENING 15 Mrs. H. [Interrupting quickly.] Watched you? No! [Slight pause.] You know I couldn't have done that sort of thing even if my interest in you had been much greater. Say you're sorry. [He goes to her and sits with her on couch. Trower. I am sorry, very. [Sits by her on couch. Mrs. H. It's only a matter of having eyes. Trower. I always admired yours. Mrs. H. Naturally. And a dressmaker. Trower. Explain. Mrs H. The lady who is graciously pleased to make my frocks — Trower. • I have recollections of Paris. [He is about to take her hand, but she quickly removes it, Mrs. H. Foolish person. I'm speaking of simple summer frocks. Well, the lady in question lives in Sack- i6 THE A WAKENING ville Street, and my coachman thinks the way from Sackville Street to Sussex Square — I live there, as you used to know — is by Bond Street and Bruton Street — but no doubt you've studied the map. Trower. Then I may consider myself convicted of the mild dissipation of afternoon calls. What next ? Mrs. H. Only that you ought to have called on me occa- sionally, all the same, we were such pals. Trower, I'll come to-morrow afternoon. Mrs. H. I shall not be at home to you. Trower. That is particularly horrid of you. Mrs. H. I shall allow you to do nothing that could pain Margaret. Trower, Mrs. H. That is my revenge on her. Troweb. For what? Mrs. H. For having robbed me of my dear friend. THE A WAKENING 17 Trower. But, my dear Edith, Margaret is nothing more to me than a friend — as you are. Mrs. H. Oh, Jim, Trower. Edith, I give you my word. Mrs. H. Don't. I wouldn't believe you. Trower. I*m prepared to take any sort of oath. Mrs. H. I should think so. Trower. \Smiling?\^ You are hopeless. Mrs. H, Quite. Well ! Trower. Even if what you suggest were true, which I assure you it is not — Mrs. H. No ! No ! Of course not ! Of course not ! Trower. Even if it were true, you would be wrong, because Margaret is incapable of unreasonable jealousy. B i« THE A WAKENING Mrs. H. Margaret is as human as the rest of us. I am sure that if I had accepted the love you so eloquently offered me a couple of years ago, I should have been just as jealous and exacting as Margaret. Thank heavens, I preferred your friendship. However, it appears that cannot last, and I will make my exit as your dear friend as gracefully as I can. \Re is about to interrupt.'] No, don't speak. You want to say something kind, and that would really hurt me. As it is, I don't think I'm really hurt. Trower. Of course, my dear Edith, you know you are hurt- ing me. Mrs. H. Am I, just a little? In a way I'm glad, for it shows that your heart is all right, although your life is all wrong. Trower. [Smiling hut groaning.'] I know — I know. Mrs. H. You make love to every nice woman you meet. Trower. \In despair J] Dear Edith 1 Mrs. H. With a man like you, to. make love indiscrimi- nately is a predisposition. You don't check it, and it becomes a habit ; you let it run riot, and it becomes a vice. Yery often you are successful, occasionally THE A WAKENING 19 mucli to your surprise and embarrassment. The reason of it is that all women are fools, and many of them unhappy fools. And so they tumble into your careless net, and then the trouble begins, or, as that slangy Cecil Bird would say, " the band plays." Trower. Hard sayings, Edith. \Rim, ci'oss R.O. Mrs. H. [Risej go to him C] They are true, Jim. That's why I'm anxious about Margaret ; I fear she'll have a bad time. Trower. [Lightly. 1 Nonsense ! [Mises, Mrs. H. She is more emotional than L Trower. Nonsense ! Mrs. H. It will be a greater shock to her than it would have been to me ; for the reason, if one dare say so, that she has less intelligence than I. Trower. Non [He is about to say Nonsense, hut stops abruptly. Bows.^ There are few women, Edith, of whom that might not be said. Mrs. H. [Curtseying.'] So sweet of you. [Then her manner changes and she goes to him.] Jim, I want you to be kind to Margaret. 20 THE AWAKENING Trowbr. It would be impossible for you to recommend any one to my kindness in vain. Mrs. H. Ah ! how insincere. Don't you know I'm in deadly earnest. Every one knows Arthur Staines is a brute, and that Margaret has had a bad time with him. Enter Lady Margaret Staines, 0. I want your promise that you will be kind to her, Margaret. \povm 0.] Who has Jim to be kind to? Or is it a secret? Mrs. H. To my darling Faustine. You know my chestnut mare ; she is too much for me just now, and Jim's going to ride her for a week or two. Isn't it nice of him, dear Margaret ? Margaret. Too sweet. Look, Jim, all winnings. [Skomng money, Trower. Cash at Bridge is manna in the wilderness, [Lady Margaret moves to Mrs H., L.O. Mrs. H. [Signijicantly.] And so you promise to be very kind to her ? Trower. [Smiling.] I promise. THE A WAKENING 21 Mrs. H. [Putting a flower straight on Margaret's dress. 1 Dear Margaret, how perfectly sweet you are looking. [Crossing and going up R.O.] I must get my cloak. [Exit Mrs. H., R. [Pause, Margaret and Troweb look at each other, smiling, Margaret. Troweb. Margaret, [Holding out her hand to him. Well? WeU? How are you ? How are you 9 Tbower. [Takirvg both her hands. Margaret. Haven't seen you alone for ages, Trowbr. Since five o'clock this afternoon. Margaret. That's ages I You don't love me. Tboweb. You know I do. THE AWAKENING Mabgaret. Mabgaret. Troweb. Then why in Heaven's naine don't you kiss me? [jffe looki cautiously round, then kisses her.] Vm jealous. Troweb. Of whom ? Edith. Absurd t Margaret. I believe she used to love you. Trower. How long have you had this precious knowledge t Margaret. Oh, quite a long time before — ^before tis. [Softly,] If anything could have been before us. Enter Mrs. Herbertson. Troweb goes over L. to bell. Trower touches bell. Mrs. H. Good night, dear, dear Margaret. Margaret. Qood night, dear. [They kiss with much affection, [Mrs. H. moves up L. and Lady M. crosses R.O. THE A WAKENING 23 Trowee. \Ai door^ Mrs. Herbertson*s carriage. [Teoweb goes to the d,oor L. with Mrs. H. Mrs. H. [Cfheerfully,'] Good night, Jim. I have enjoyed myself. Remember your promise. Trower. Good night. [Remains at the door for a moment, [Margaret remains 0. Tsower comes L. 0. Margaret. [B.C.] Youll come to Blair House next week ? Trower. [C] Lady Warristor hasn't asked me. Margaret. She's going to. Do come, Jim. You know how sweet and kind she is, and how cleverly she under- stands things. Trower. I know. I shall certainly come if it's at all possible. Enter Miss Prescott, 0., and Lord Reggie. Thei^ are followed by Lady Warristor a7id Cecii* Bird, who are talking together. Lord Reggie goes down L., Miss Prescott dow7i 0. Ladt Warristor and Cecil stop talking up 0. Miss P. [C, going to Trower.] You are a perfect dear. 24 THE A WAKENING Trower. [L.O.] What have I done? Miss P. Won that rubber for me. If you weren't already so vain I'd kiss you. Trower. \Coming nearer toller^ Do. Miss P. \A'ppealing to eoeryhody.\ Well! Did you ever hear anything so impudent ? Margaret, I ask you. Margaret. You're blushing, my dear. Miss P. Of course I am. I always get red at the least thing. It's only rude health ; I believe that's why no one ever conceived a passion for me, I'm too healthy. Trower. [Taking Lord R.'s arm and moving with him to Miss P.] Anyway, it was Reggie who won the rubber for you, and as he has no vanity — Lord R. [C] None, I assure you — you need have no scruples. Miss Prescott. THE A WAKENING 2$ Miss P. [Pushing them away.] Be off with you. [Reggie and Trower get back L.C.] I despise men. Cecil, where's my money ? Pay up ! [Stretches out he?- open hand dramatically. [Lady W. joins Margaret down R. Bird. [Coming down 0.] My dear lady — Miss P. Dear lady be blowed. [^Holding out her hand.] I demand money with menaces. Bird. Kow you really don't suppose I go about in the evening ruining my clothes with pieces of metal. In the morning your winnings shall assume the dignity of a cheque. Miss P. All right. [Goes up R.O. Reggie goes up L.O. to back.] Margaret, I'm going. [Goes L. [Cecil crosses to Lady W., R.C. Margaret. Bring my cloak with you, dear. Miss P. Yes, dear. [Exit 1m Bird. [Wh/> hat been talking to Lady W.] Well, good night, Lady Warristor. [Shaking hands. ^6 THE AWAKENING Lady W. •Good night, Cecil. Remember Friday. [Reggie goes dovm R.C. to Lady M. Bird. [C] Friday, with great pleasure. You're very •kind. Good night, Margaiet. [^Shaking hands.'\ Kjood night, Lord Reggie. Good night, Jim. [^Gross ■L.C.] A thousand thanks for a most delightful ^evening. I've ruined my average, but my digestion is unimpaired. [Trower goes to the door vrith him, Trower. [L.O., in a low voice.] I say, old man, are. you really worried ? Bird. [C] A bit, I confess. But don't you bother. Trower. It's no bother. Come and see me at the office to-morrow. Bird. You're too good, Jim. Pa's bound to unbend some time ; otherwise — well, I can only anticipate a performance by the band. Trower. To-morrow, then. Good night. Bird. Good night, Jim. [Goes up L.O. [Miss P. with Margaret's cloak enters R., arid cross G. to Margaret. Mcit Bird. THE A WAKENING Vf Lady W. [Grosses C. to Trower.] Mr. Trower, I want you to come to Blair House from Friday till Monday. Quite a small party, only ourselves. Trower. There is nothing I should like better, Lady War- ristor, only — I'm a little afraid of the chief. Lady W. Bother the chief ! Trower. The chief is bothered. However, I'll let you know during the week if I may leave it like that. Lady W. Of coiu'se I'll let you leave it — [going up R.] — like that — \hy door] — and of course I shall expect you. [Trower joins Lady M. up C. Uxit Lady W., R. Trower takes Mar- garet's cloak from her, and helps her on with it a little up stage C. They talk. Miss P. juoves doum R.O. to Reggie— sj^e is putting her gloves on. Lord R. May I come and see you soon % Miss P. Any afternoon you like ; but make it late, as I'm out so much. I'm doing Mrs. Koppinger's party for her, and it's a fearful bother. Where is one to get men from ? I ask you. 28 THE A WAKEN WG Lord R. Difficult just now. Miss P. Of course one can always lill up with the men who are men more by circumstance than choice. Like the poor, they're always with us. Bother Africa ! It's swallowed all our best men. Lord R \Pulling Ma moustacTie.] Humph ! Miss P. [Quickly laying her hand on his arm,] All but a very few golden men who couldn't go, one of whom is the dearest old thing in the world, and will come and take tea with me on Tuesday at 5.30. I mention no names, [They shake hands, and look in each other's eyes with an affection that has never been spoken. Lord R. Delighted. Good night. [They remain R., talking, [Miss P. goes to Margaret. Lady W. hustles in R. Trower touches the bell. Servant appears in doorway. Lady W. Good night, Margaret. [Kisses her. Cross L.O. to Trower. j Good night, dear Mr. Trower. It's been charming. [Shakes hands, [Trower goes to door L. THE A WAKENING 29 Trower. \M door.] Lady Warristor's carriage. Lady W. [C/p L.O.] Good night, everybody. [Cross Thower to L.] Remember Friday. Trower. I do hope I'll be able to come. Good night. [Exit L. Trower crosses to back of table.] Now, why don't you three nice people stay a little longer ? Margaret. [Down L.O.] Oh yes — do let'a Miss P. [Dotm R.C.] You stay, Margaret, by all means ; but as for me, I'm going home. I demand eight hours' sleep. It's the only way to keep healthy in mind and body. Margaret. Of course, you know I can't stay without you. How extremely disagreeable you are sometimes. Miss P. My dear, I hope you'll excuse my having been born ; but I'm going to my lonely little bed anyway. Jim, order a hansom for me. [Grosses to L. and rings bell. Margaret. [Follmotng her a little.] Oh, don't be absurd. Of course I'll drive you. Good night, Reggie. Good night, Jim. y> THE A WAKENING Good night. Lord R. [Miss P. waiU at door L. Margaret. To-morrow. Of course Trower. \Go up to door. Margaret. [To Miss P., L.O., at door.] Pig ! ! [Exit Margaret and Miss P., L. [Trower then turns light out on 0. table, Trower. Well, old man, I think we must have a drink. Lord R. [Crossing L.O., looking after Miss P.] No more, thanks ; isn't she a charming woman ? Trower. [Down R.O.] Very. [Lights a cigarette Lord R. So frank ! [Sits on sofa L. Trower. [Mildly.] Yes. [At table 0. Lord R. I don't know how to express it. I'm . always a fool talking about a woman, or to one for that matter. Trower. Nonsense. THE A WAKENING 31 Lord R. Yes, I am ; but I was going to say that there is something so magnificently honest about her. Yon couldn't, for instance, imagine her telling a lie or doing a mean thing. Trower. No. \Sliglit 'pause, then mare decidedly^ No — not a lie or a mean thing from a woman's point of view. Lord R. \Ri8e, cross 0. to him.] One realises what an un- worthy devil one is when one meets a woman like Miss Prescott. Trowbr. Miss Prescott ? Lord R. Yes ; we're talking about her, aren't we ? Trower. Of course. [Lord R. looks at Trower uneasily. Lord R. I must be going. Good night. [Shaking hands mth Trowbb, Trower. [Holding his hand.] You are right, Reggie. She's a good soul, and goodness has a sort of unconscious freemasonry of its own. Lord R. No one knows that better than you, old man. THE A WAKENING Trower. [Pained.] 1! I! [He seems about to add something^ then controls liimself and says quietly] Good night. [Taking him up to L. door. [Exit Lord R. in his own deliberate manner. [Trower looks after him, then comes into the room and is thoughtful. His thoughts are apparently painful. The noise of the front door being shut is heard. Trower idly gathers the cards together, then throws them down on table and goes over to R. and sits. ^Enter Jarvis, L., with evening newspaper on salver, which he hands to Trower. Jarvis. Shall you be going out, sir ? [Fulling C. table dovm a little, Trower. No, Jarvis ; give me a whisky and seltzer. [Throws himself into a chair R. Jarvis. [Goes to spirit- stand, L., taking a glass whisky and seltzer over on salver.] I 'ope everything was satisfac- tory to-night, sir ? Trower. Everything but the cutlets ; they weren't done. Jarvis. The grill's Mrs. Wickham's one weakness, sir. I THE A WAKENING 33 must tell her again. The Moussiline looked a dream, sir. [Hands drink to Trower, then begins to put chairs away from C. table, Trower. [Tndifferently.'\ Yes, you ought to have asked the name of the young lady who called. Jarvis. , I did, sir, but she didn't give it She laughed a little and said, " Oh, I'm nobody." [Trower starts slightly,] She had a pretty way of laughin', sir. Trower. You may put the hall lights out. [Jarvis crosses to door.] I'm going to bed. Jarvis. Yes, sir. [He goes. When he reaches the door an electric hell is heard.] That's the door bell, sir. Shall you be at home 1 Trower. See who it is. [Exit Jarvis L. ; long pause. Goes softly to the door and listens.] It's all right, Jarvis, show the lady up. " [Another pause ; Trower brings Olive Lawrence into the room,] How do you do ? [Gross C. [He then crosses back to the door L. He hesitates about closing it, and finally leaves it a little hit ajar. He slowly returns to h£r ; she has moved down B..0. Olive. [R.O., nervously,] Was I wrong to come? 34 THE A WAKENING Trower. [0., smiling^ No. Olive. \RejpToaclifully^ Only a cold *' How do you dot" Trower. Before Jarvis? Olive. Who is Jarvis ? Trower. My butler, my valet, my chief of establishment — my indispensable. Olive. Is he a tyrant % Trower. Yes. \He takes both her hands in Aw.] Now explain. Olivb. You are surprised. Trower, Amazed. Olive. [0.] And not pleased ? [Trower looks in her eyeSf then draws her to him and kisses her, Trower. [L.O.] Will that answer do? Olive. [CorUentedlyl Yes. Trower. Well? THE A WAKENING 35 Olive. I wanted to see you, Jim. [Looking towards door L.] Will Mr. Jarvis hear it if I call you Jim ? Trower. No ; Jarvis doesn't listen — he's exceptionaL Olive. I wanted to see you, so I wrote to Mr. Alwick, the solicitor, making an appointment to call on him. Trower. Why didn't you make an appointment with me instead ? Olive. I wanted to surprise you, and I — I wasn't quite sure if you wanted to see me in London. Mr. Alwick wrote back asking me to stay the night with his family. I'm sure it would have been very nice ; they live at Hammersmith. But I went to an hotel instead — because — because — I wanted to see you. Trower. But you mustn't go to hotels alone. Olive. It's only a very little one — where father used to stay when he came to London. Trower. You don't understand, dear. Girls don't stay alone at hotels. THE A WAKENING Olive. But I'm a woman. You forget I'm twenty-two. [Leans on edge of R. table, [Slight pause. He looks away from Tier, Trower. You probably haven't a maid with you ? Olive. Of course not. I don't own one, unless Mra Selby counts. Perhaps I ought to have brought her. [Slowly a smile steals over Tver face.] Mrs. Selby would be funny in London, wouldn't she, Jim ? Can't you see her side curls bobbing? [Laughs merrily. Trower melts into a laugh.] But I forgot, I oughtn't to laugh. [Becomes demurely grave.] I'm in disgrace. [Looks at him sideways.] I oughtn't to have come. My conduct has been most improper. Trower. [Puts chair R.O. for her. He takes chair from L.O. to 0. and sits.] Sit down and tell me how you spent the evening. Olive. Oh, it's been a beautiful evening. I dined at my little hotel, such a good dinner, and every now and then I whispered to myself, '* I'm going to meet HIM." I didn't say Jim, or "my darling" — you're sure Mr. Jarvis can't hear ? Trowee. Quite sure. THE AWAKENING 37 Olive. But just " him," as if there were no other man in the world. After dinner I waited a little to make sure you'd finished your dinner — then I took a hansom, such a good hansom, with spring cushions and a grey horse. I've got it still. \Rise and cross L. to window.^ Do come and look. [She goes up to windoio — he follows and they draw aside the blinds.'] Isn't it a good hansom ? Trowbb. Yes, and a capital horse. Olive. And the driver said he didn't in the least mind waiting ! [She comes down L.O. and sits on sofa L.] Well, where was I ? [He comes down L. and sits by her. ] Mr. Jarvis can't see, can he ? Troweb. Na Olive. If I weren't in disgrace, I'd kiss you — just there. \Touches the side of his face timidly. He leans his face nearer to her. She kisses him.] You are melt- ing a little, aren't you, Jim ? Troweb. Rapidly. Olive. Oh! I'm glad. You're so much nearer to me when you smile. Well, I gave the cabman this ad- dress, and we came along beautifully smoothly — he's 8uch a good driver — and I still kept saying to 58 THE A WAKENING myself, "I'm going to see him." But suddenly a dreadful thought came — suppose you were out. I felt myself turn pale. Do you know what that feeling is? Trowee. Yes, dear. Olive. I suppose every one who is in love knows it Well, we drew up at the house and you loere at home, only — only you had a party. \Rises and stands by him, Trower. A very few friends. Olive. Any ladies ? Trowbr. Well, yes — certainly there were ladie* Olive. Pretty ones? TRowBa. Ye-es — one might say so. [SWjht pause. Olive is thoughtful ; sudr- denly her face glows, and she puts her hands to her bosom and fully faces the audience. Olive. [Moves a little C] I wouldn't care if all the most beautiful women in London were here, so long as you kept thought of me. [Turning to him. [Trower looks at her wonderingly. The great faith of her heart is obviously a revelation to him. She turns to him. THE A WAKENING 39 Olive. You do think of me — sometimes, Jim? Trower. I do, Olive. \Ri6es^ and moves to Tier, Olive. Often? Trower. Always. [Nervously.] In truth you are very much on my conscience. Olive. [A little archly but very tenderly. 1^ Is that some- where near your heart, dear? Trower. [Much movedf comes to Tier.] Very near my heart, little one. Olive. Then I'd like to stay there. [Putting Tier hand on his shoulder, Trower. You will, [He smooths her hair caressingly. There is a slight pause, which she breaks svd^ denly with a little sigh, Olivb. [Going away R. a little.'] Well, when I found you had a party — [moving up E-. a little, looks round the room admiringly] — and, of course, having such beau- tiful rooms, you must entertain your friends THE A WAKENING Troweb. Playfully^ Don't stop to wrestle with cause and 'act, dear, but go straight on. • Olive. [At hack of R.C. chair.'] That's what I told my dear cabman to do, and he did. But of course I had no intention of letting you off ; so, after what I thought a reasonable time, I told him to come straight back, and he did. [Coming down 0. Troweb. And so here you are, somewhere near midnight, in the rooms of a — bachelor. Olive. Safe in the rooms of the man I love. [Moving towards him, Trower. But, my dear child, don't you see how compro- mising it is ? Olive. For whom ? Troweb. For you. [Shxxrt laugh.'] It would be difficult to compromise me. Olive. What does compromise mean? Other people knowing when you're in love ? Troweb. Something like that. What do you suppose, for instance, Jarvis thinks ? THE A WAKENING 41 Olive. Mr. Jarvis's reflections don't interest meu Trower. \Laughs^ with a trace of vexation^ and shakes her gently.'] You're a hopeless girl. Olive. [Steadfastly.'] Hopelessly in love. [He sits on the edge of a table 0., and draws her to him. Trower. Now, listen ; it's natural that you shouldn't quite understand, for your bringing up was, to say the least of it, unconventional. No mother to look after you ; a father who doted on you, but let you run wild like a fay. Olive. He was a darling. Trower. But he was engrossed in his art. He taught you nothing. Olive. He taught me everything. Trower. Nothing about the world. Olive. He hated the world. He loved only beautiful things — nature and ai-t and truth, and he taught 43 THE A WAKENING me the love of them. But you taught me the love of you. [Trower's face^ which is away from her and full to the audierice, becomes hag- gard. Pause. Olive. [Gently — getting away a little.] Won't you go on scolding me, Jim ? Trowbr. [Abruptly,'] No. Olive. Please do. [Moves B..C.] I'm really anxious to learn things. [Turning to him.] Only you didn't say anything in the country about my being com- promised, or about my bringing up being uncon- ventional. Trower. One dreams in the country. Olive. Yes, beautiful dreams. When will you come and dream in the country again, Jim ? Trower. I'm invited to your neighbourhood next week. [Moving L.O. Olive. Oh, how splendid ! Will you comet Trower. Perhaps. Olive. And see me ? THE A WAKENING 43 Teower. If I comei Olivb. Where will you stay ? Tboweb. Blair House. Olivb. With Lady Warristor ? Trower. Yes. Do you know her ? Olive. Very little, but father knew her well. He painted her portrait. She sometimes asks me to the house. [Pa?^se.] You don't seem glad you're coming near me, Jim. I seem to have lost you, and don't know how to win you back. I suppose it's because I don't know the way of the world well enough. [Troweb walks down stage L., a prey to painfiU thought. Suddenly Trowek comes hack to her^ and lifting her, he swings her standing on to the armchair. Then he steps back and stands with his arms stretched out. Teower, [Turning and holding out his arms C] Come. Olive. Ah, it's really you after all. [She laughs gleefully ^ and springs into his arms. 44 THE A WAKENING Trower. \Repentantly.\ No! \He moves away from her, Olive. You are angry with me ? Trower. I am angry with myself — you really mustn't stay here any longer. Olive. I'm very sorry I came — very ! [^She goes slowly towards the door, Trower. Wait ! "What a child you are ! [Goes up L. and rings bell. Returning to C] Now look very prim, for the terrible Mr. Jarvis is coming. [Olive affects a prim appearance. Enter Jarvis, L.] My coat and hat. Jarvis. Yes, sir. [Exit L. Olive. [In a loio voice but mthout moving.] What are you going to do ? Trower. Drive you to your hotel. Olive. In my beautiful hansom? Oh, you are good. [Then roguishly.] But won't it — won't it be com- promising ? Trower. [Smiling.] Damnably, but less so than your being here, little one. THE A WAKENING 4S Olive. [Running her hands together.] Oh, how exciting. [Enter Jarvis imth hat and coat; Olive becomes prim again. Jarvis h^dps Tboweb on with coat. Trower. You may turn these lights out, Jarvis. And — and you needn't wait up for me. Jarvis. Very good, sir. [Going away up 0. Trower. [Very formally.'] Shall we go. Miss Lawrence? Olive. [TF*Y/i a pretty attempt to catch the same tone,] I*m quite ready, Mr. Trower. [He lets her pass in front of him and they go out, [Jarvis switches off the electric light, leaving the stage in darkness. He then follows them, closing the door after him. Slight pause. Then the hang of the front door being shut is heard. Curtain. KND OF AGT I ! Coffee tray and coflft-e-cups for six on small table by tree RC. Liqueur glasses on salver. Also salver and liqueur decan- ters. All on table R.O. Three cushions, papers, croquet mallet aud wool for Cecil upK. Cigarette and case for Trower upR. Cigar and matchee for Resrgie. Writteu letterfor Olive, L. Telegram on sal- ver for footman R., telegram for Miss P., R. 1 Qi Cane settee. Chair L. of table behind it. Flower-beds along L. i a Chair. Flowers in pots, each side of steps. Sun-diaL ■ 1 Small wibker table. Chair R. and L. of it. Small table under tree. Flower-bed. 1 i! ol d ^1 ACT II Scene. — Part of the >groundSy Blair House, Dorset- shire. Garden table and chairs carelessly abouit — more or less under a big tree L.C. It is a hot day and the sun is brilliant [Discovered : Butler and Footman. Butleb puts table down B.C. and tea tray on it. Footman arranging chair C. On the cur- tain rising Footman arranges the tables and chairs. Approaching laughter and voices are heard off. Enter Lady War- RiSTOR and Cecil Bird, followed by Miss Prescott, who has knitting. The ladies wear light summer frocks and garden hats. Reggie moves down L. Cecil arranges cushion for IjADY W., R. Bird. [R.C.] Any sort of exertion is quite out of the question. [Feebly gives Lady W a chair R., then collapses into one himself L. .0. and lays a hand on his arm. Miss P. Margaret is in the garden, Jim. Troweb. [Vaguely.] Margaret? Miss P. Yes. [They hole at each other — slight pause. Tbowee. Fm not quite certain that kitchen gardens wildly excite me. Miss P. [With insistence.] Margaret adores you. Troweb. [Without enthusiasm.] Yes. 66 THE A WAKENING Miss P. It's so easy for a man to give the woman who loves him a little happiness. Trower. I know ; but — we're all creatures of moods. Miss P. \yery earnestly.'] Jim, for God's sake don't tell me you're out of love. Trower. I [He turns his face up stage to avoid her eyes, and sees Olive Lawrence, who enters conducted by a butler. Miss P. does not see Olive. Trower turns quickly back to Miss P. and says : No, my dear friend, I don't think I'm out of love. Miss P. [Heartily.] I'm so, so glad. [Turn^ up and sees Olive. To Trower as Olive comes doicn alone.] This miist be Lady Warristof 's young friend. [Olive seeing Jim, puts her hand to her heart and hesitates for one moment^ then comes down. Miss P. goes a few steps to meet her. Miss P. You are Miss Lawrence, aren't you ? Olive. [Timidly.] Yes. [Miss P. crosses and shakes hands with her. THE A WAKENING 67 Miss P. \Going up 0. a little.] Lady Warristor will be here presently. She is showiDg the gardens to some of our friends. You know Mr. Trower, don't you ? Trower. [Easily.] I hope Miss Lawrence remembers me. We met at the vicarage earlier in the year. [Crosses to her L.O. Olive. Oh, I remember very well. [Miss P. moves dovm R.C. arid sits, * Trower. Is the old trout still in the pool behind your cottage ? Olive. Yes, he's still there. I saw him yesterday. Miss P; A trout? Trower. Yes ; there's a deep pool in the stream there, and it's the home of a particularly wily old trout. There were two, but has it not been written : " One shall be taken and the other left " ? [The ladies laugh — Olive a little nervously. Miss P. You took the other, of course. Trower. With Miss Lawrence's assistance. She handles the net like a gillie. 68 THE A WAKENING Olive. Oh, I didn't help much. The poor thing was quite exhausted when I got the net under it. Trowbr. And then, if I remember, you were sorry for itL Olive. Tes. I felt as if I were being treacherous to an old friend. Miss P. I think 111 tell Lady Warristor you are here. I know they all want to play croquet. Trower. Shall I? Miss P. No, thanks. \Rise,\ If I don't move — [giving a little cry] — my left foot will go to sleep. It always does if I sit too long after meals. [She goes R. Trower. [Lighting a cigarette.'] This is a delightful place, isn t it. Miss Lawrence ? Olive. [Imitating his formal tone.] It's beautiful, Mr. Trower. I've known it all my life. [Going away L.O.] [Exit Miss P. [Pause, Trower looks round to see */Miss P. 18 gone. Olive is standing. She also looks round. Then their eyes meet and they smile. THE A WAKENING 69 Troweb. You dear child. Olivb. I'm so frightened, Jim. Troweb. Of what? Olivb. Of being here. Troweb. Why ? Olivb. It's all very well to be with you when no one else is near. That is very, very well ; it is my heaven. But before others it is so different. I feel as if I were changing colour every moment. Do you think that lady noticed it ? Teowbb. Why, of course not. Olivb. I lay awake nearly all night wondering if I ought to come. I got up at four and wrote you a note. Trowbb. Where is it ? Olivb. * , I have it here. \In her glove.] To slip into your hand in case I couldn't speak to you alone. Tboweb. Give it me. ^o THE A WA KENJNG Olive. Not for worlds. It's far too stupid for a great man like you to read. It only asks you if you can get away to come to tea to-morrow. Could you % Trowbr. Yes, at six. Olive. You promise to come, Jim ? Trower. I promise. Do let me have the little letter, Olive. \Putting Tier hand behind her.] But there is no- thing in it but what I have been saying — and — and — a quotation. I was unable to say in my own words what I felt, and so Trower. And so you fell back upon the poeta We all do it, little one. Perhaps that's what poets were given us for. The letter. [Stretches out his hand. Olivb. [Timidly.] Really? Trowbr. [Smiling.] I insist. [She hands him the letter^ then turns up stage, her back to audience. Trower opens the letter — crosses and sits L. of R.O. table. He reads silently for a few moments. THE A WAKENING ^\ Trower. But yoiir own words are beautifuL Olive. They are stupid words. \Qoing to him. Trower. They are much too good for me. [Slight paiLse — he looks at the letter again. Olive. [Moves down to him.] Do you like the quotation? Trower. [Beading softly. *• Where my heart is — wherever that may be — Might I but follow — K you fly thither over lane and lea, Oh, honey seeking bee, Oh, careless swallow. Bid one for whom I watch — keep watch for me." [She com£S nearer to him, behind him, while he reads, and ichen he finishes, after a nervous glance round, she lets her hand rest on his shoidder. Without looking up he takes the hand and holds it in his. Pause. Then she starts ner- vously and moves away from him. Olive. Here is Lady Warristor. [Trower rises and crosses L.O. Olivb moves back to C. 7» THE A WAKENING Trower. And 80 you are in good practice at croquet, Miss Lawrence? \Entefr Lady Warristor, E,., and Lady Margaret, R.] Well, I warn you some of our friends here play very well. My cousin Cecil is a nailer. Lady W. \Coming down R.C.] My dear child, I'm so glad you've come. How are you, dear? \Ki88es her,] This is Lady Margaret Staines. [Margaret bowa coldly f R.] Now shall we make up the set ? [Going to Margaret.] Will you play, Margaret ? Margaret. I'd rather not, if you can do without me, dear. Enter Cecil Bird with croquet bat. He aits making a horse of his bat up R.C. [Olive talks to Trower with her back to Bird. Bird. If two of you good kind people don't come soon, there'll be no match. Lord Reggie's lying on hia back and beginning to snore. Lady W. [To Olive.] You'll play, of course, dear ? [Olive turns round. Bird. [Down C] Why, there's that dear Miss Lawrence. [Down B.O. Going to her and taking her by the THE A WAKENING 73 hand.] How do you do? [Shakes hands,] Come along; you and I'll what they call challenge the crowd. [Exeunt Bird and Olive up B. [Lady W. followa Cecil and Oliyb up R., then turns. Lady W. Youll play, Mr. Trower ? Trowbr, I shall be Margaret. [Gross 'R.O.y interrupting.] He's the worst player io the world, Lady Warristor. You make the fourth, and we'll come and look on. Lady W. As you please, dear. [(7oe8.] [Exit B.O. Margaret. [Turning suddenly on Trower with flashing eyes.] Tou have met that girl before. Trower. Yes, I acknowledged it. Margaret. It had to be dragged out of yoo. Trower. Diditf 74 THE A WAKENING Mabgabet. Yes, it did. Trower. [Gently.] I'm afraid I was a little sleepy after lunch. Margaret. You have flirted with her. Trower. [With gentle reproach.] My dear Margaret I Margaret. Any one with half an eye can see it. [Trower sighs resignedly and sinks into a sofa L.] [Beating one hand against the other.] I won't have it — I tell you I won't have it. Trower. My dear Margaret, this is a revelation, Margaret. It's a revelation to me — I trusted you. Trower. I mean it's a revelation of you. I never would have thought you capable of such an unreasonable outburst of temper. Margaret. It's not unreasonable. You've been different with me for some time. You've been distrait, preoccupied, indifferent It's been gradual, but now I can trace THE A WAKENING 75 it from your visit here in April. Little things don*t escape a woman who loves. When that girl's name was mentioned just now you folded your arms. When you were asked about her you pretended to be asleep to avoid acknowledging you knew her. After- wards you lost all pretence and quoted poetry about her. Trower. It was very harmless, and I've quoted volumes about you. Margaret. I decline to be associated in your mind with any other woman. Trower. \Serenely!\ You are not, my dear Margaret, I assure you. \She stands looking at him for a moment.^ Would the smoke of a cigarette occasion further annoyance ? No ? Margaret. Jim, are you a bad man ? Trower. That's rather a poser, isn't it? I suppose, like most people, I am part good and part bad. But mostly bad. [She walks up stage — he lights cigarette. She comes down to him 0. again, Margaret. Jim, are you capable of — of — [she becomes tear- full — of treating me badly ? Trower. I hope not, dear Margaret. Sit down. [He make* 76 THE A WAKENING room for her on garden seat — she sits — the handker- chief she has been pulling about in her agitation she now uses fcyr her eyes.'] Why, you are actually crying. Margaret. I — I can't help it. Troweb. The proud, self-contained Lady Margaret actually crying and fussing about nothing. Margaret. Is it nothing ? Troweb. Yes. J Margaret. You like this girl ? Troweb. [Smiling.'\ Yes. Margaret. Ohl Troweb. Every one does, she's charming. Margaret. You've been trifling with hep, Trower. \StemlyJ\ Margaret! How dare you say such a thing? [Rises indignantly. THE A WAKENING 77 Mabgabet. \BMing^ Well, say it isn't true. Trower. I absolutely decline to answer such a charge. [Turns away down L. Margaret. Jim, forgive me. But women have instincts, and it's hard to know when we're guided by in- stinct or misguided by jealousy. Do say at least that I've been misguided. Trowbb. Much misguided. Margaret. Then I am sorry. Trower. [Evasively.'] Let's forget all about it. [Coming very dose to him, she holds his arm with both hands. Margaret. I know there's nothing so boring to a man as a jealous woman. I'm not that really, Jim. I'll never be again. Only since Arthur went to Africa, we've had so much happiness that lately I've got into a nervous state of fright lest I should lose it You forgive me, Jim ? Trower. Of course I do. [She puts her face up to he kissed 78 THE A WAKENING and, gets still closer to Mm.'] [Loolcing round,'] Be careful, dear, one never knows where people are. {Kisses her lightly and coldly — cross E.O. \Footman enters up R. vrith telegram on salver and goes off behind house R. Margaret, Make me a promise, Jim. Trower. What is it? Margaret. Just to humour the woman you love, Trower. Well? Margaret. Don't see that girl again. Trower Oh, that's sheer nonsense. Margaret. Just to please me. We'll go for a long walk and she'll be gone when we return. [Pawse.] It's nothing to ask, Trower. It's something, my dear Margaret, for a man to be made a child of. Margaret. Couldn't you be a child in one little thing just to give me pleasure ? THE A WAKENING 79 Trower. No ; those are not the sort of fetters a man can submit to from any woman. Margaret. Even from the woman he professes to love ? Trower. I said from any woman. Margaret. \C(mUnuing as if he fiadn't spoken,] Who has made sacrifices for him. Trower. My dear Margaret, you have lost for the time your common sense when you talk like that. Sacri- fices between a man and a woman in our position are not spoken of, or thought of. Please don't let us pursue the subject, for if I were to talk bald common sense and truth you would dislike me, and I should certainly dislike myself. -Margaret. I insist on your promise not to see that girl again. Trower. [Betums to C] This is a dangerous insistence. So dangerous that, for your own sake, I prefer to leave you. [Going wp 0. \IIe goes. She stands looking after him furiously. He meets Miss Prescott up R.O., loho has entered at the moment R. She is agitated, and has a telegram in her hand. 80 THE A WAKENING Miss P. Where are you going ? Trower. Anywhere. [Margaret moves away up L.] Mar- garet isn't very companionable just now. Miss P. You mustn't go. [Dotrni 0. Trower. What's the matter ? [0. Miss P. Bead. [Hands him telegram — he reads, Trower. Good God ! You must tell her. Miss P. You must help me. [He hesitates,] Don't be a coward, Jim. Margaret. [Coming down 0. between them."] What are you talking of, please ? I don't care to be discussed. Miss P. [Gently.'] We're not discussing you, dear. Margaret. [Looking from one to the other.] Well, what's the matter ? THE A WAKENING 8l Miss P. Darling, you must be prepared for bad news. Margaret. Well— what is it ? What is it « Miss P. [Bluntly walks away R.C. a little.] After all, I can't break it to you — I can only tell you. Your husband is dead. [Looking in front of Tier. Margaret. Dead? [Her hands to her heaH.] Arthur dead? Miss P. He died of enteric fever. It's official. Your sister wiieu me to break it to you. Margaret. [Looking at telegram.] Arthur dead? [Patise.] Then I'm free. [The others make a movement.] I'm free ! Jim, I'm free ! Do you hear — do you under- stand ? I'm a free woman. Miss P. My dear, you mustn't talk like that. But you're upset — you don't know what you are saying. [Taking her up 0. a little. Margaret. [Releasing herself] But I do know what I'm laying — and what does it matter before Jim ? You know what my marriage was like — you know the sort of man he was. F 82 THE A WAKENING Miss P. Whatever his faults, he's dead — we don't speak ill of the dead. Margaret. \W}w is much excited.^ Molly, you're a child. [Turns to Trower and speaks to Mm in a lower hut agitated voice.] Jim, can you realise it? I'm free, and I love you ! And we were nearly quarrelling. How truly ridiculous ! Everything is different now, dear, isn't it? Trower. Yes, yes, go with Molly. If the others come and see you going on like this there'll be a scandal Margaret. Yes, I'll go. I'll observe the proprieties. But you'll make that promise now, won't you ? Trower. [Firmly,] For Heaven's sake, Margaret Margaret. [Fiercely.] Make me that promise, Trower. No. [OossR.O. Miss P. Margaret, dear, in the name of decency [She takes Tier arm. Lady Margaret allows herself to be led away up 0. Teower remains motionless. THE A WAKENING 83 Maboaret. [Stopping^ to Miss P.] Wait there ! [STie eome$ back to Trowee, R.O. In a hoarse whisper] You will promise ? Trower. No. [Lady Margaret draws herself up and walks firmly back to Miss P:, wTio passes her arm round her^ and Margaret goes out slowly, leaving Miss P. on top of steps. [Tbowes remains motionless — Curtain falls,] END OF AOT n 1 1 Tea-tray off L. Tea — two cups and saucers. Tea-cakes, sugar and milk for Mrs. Selby off L. Book of Keats' Poems on chair in window. Tea-cloth in drawer of table by window. 1 ©' 2 CO a; Cabinet of china up L. Two vases of flowers. Two ornaments, photographs on mantelpiece. Rug in front of tire-place. Kettle of hot water on fire. Chair in front of fire. Table L. C— Chair above. Small table down L. Writing materials, two candle- sticks, two emptj glass vases oi: table. Book-shelf and books on flat down L.,lamp on china cabi- net. Set brass flre- irons. 1 a Table, with tea- cloth in drawer, in window. Chair R. and L. of window. Books and work- basket on table. Basket of flowers on platform. Grandfather's clock R. of plat- form. Chair L. of plat- form. Paint-table, with paints, brushes, &c. C. Easel with pic- ture on it C. Pots of flowers on floor under window. 1 d Small table be- low door with painting mate- rials. Easel against flat. Piano, with vases of flowers, drawings, &c. Piano-stool R.C. Vase, statue, drawings, &c., in a heap down R. Settee and two cushions down R. Black helmet. Rocking-chair. Sword hanging on flat. Chair behind couch. Lamp on piano. 1 § |a © o 1 p. Picture over door up stage. o'l Pictures on wall. Gun and bow on wall. Tapestry from ceil- ing to floor. ACT III Scene. — Olive's home. The cottage in the village. A room which, although typically of an old-fashioned English cottage character, is full of memories of the Artist ivho decorated, furnished, and lived in it— OijIY^' 8 father. The principal entrance is R.C. Blue china is a main feature in the decoration of the room. In the corner L.O. is a collection in two large Chippendale cases, \It is late in the afternoon when the curtain rises. Olive is discovered; she is not easily seen as her hack is to the audience, and she is sitting in a large chair in thf. window C. Before her is a small easel, and she is at work on a picture. After a pau^e enter Mrs. Selby. She is a very neatly dressed old woman, wearing old- fashioned side curls, and is very agreeahle to look upon. She carries a table-cloth^ which she spreads on a small table well up L.C.] Mrs. S. How is the picture getting on, Miss Olive ? Olive. [Without turning,"] Badly. [Sits on arm of settee R. Mrs. S. spreads the cloth.] Is it nearly six? 86 THE A WAKENING Mrs. S. It wants fifteen minutes to. [Grossing R.O. between Olive and easd. She puts on her spectacles with great deliberation. She wears them low on her nosey and has to throw her head back to look at the picture.^ Well, I think it's beautiful. Olivb. [Shortly.] It's horrid. Mbs. S. Indeed, Miss Olive, it reminds me of your poor dear father's pictures— the same colouring, so to Olive. [Bise.] Oh, Mrs. Selby, how dare you say such a thing ? Father was a great painter, and I'm a con- temptible little failure. Mrs S. Well, I like it, Miss Olive ; but then I'm no judga Olive. [Moving back to R and looking at picture.'] It's a beastly picture. [Crosses to easel ; begins to paint it out wrathfully. Mbs. S. Oh, Miss Olive 1 Olive. [Continuing the work of destruction,] Beastly — beastly. Mbs. a Oh, Miss Olive I THE A WAKENING •? Olive. Beastly, perfectly beastly — there ! Mrs. S. Oh, Miss Olive ! A whole day's work ! Olive. \Half to herself — going to sofa B. and «/.] I couldn't have let him see it Mbs. S. Who, dearie? Olive. [Rise and crosses to easel."] The greatest critic in the world. Mbs. a Is he coming to tea ? Olive. He ia [She is putting her easel away R. and tidy- ing up generally. Mrs. S. It's as well I made some fresh tea-cakes this morning. Olive. [Puts paint, ^c, away up R.O.] He graciously condescended to approve of your tea-cakes last April. [Puts paint table away up R. Mbs. S. helps her. Mbs. S. Oh, it's Mr. Trower. 88 THE A WAKENING Olive. \T'hxmglitfuUy!\ I don't think I'll have you call him Mr. Trower — [Mrs. S. untying her apron] — ^it*a not awesome enough. There are so many Misters in the world, and only one Great Man. Ah ! — [jpleased mth the thought] — that's it. We shall speak of him as the Great Man ! For instance you will come to me and say : "I passed the Great Man in the village. Miss Olive, and he gave me a beautiful smile." Or, *' I'm so glad the Great Man liked my tea-cakes, Miss Olive ; it was very kind and thoughtful of him." [She laughs merrily.] Will you remember ? Mrs. S. Indeed I will. Miss Olive. J^She takes some jloivers from up 0. to place on the tea-table. [Olive arranges cushion on sofa R. Olive. No — no. \Tdkes them from her — crosses to table 0.] I'll do that. You shall do all the rest. [^Below table, Mrs. S. Very well, dearie. [Exit Mrs. Selbt, L. [Olive arranges flowers on the tea-table. She hums an air ; once she goes to a window to see if her lover is coming. Mrs. S. returns, carrying the tea-tray ; begins to lay the tea. THE A WAKENING 89 Olive. \l8 arranging flowers in a vase tvhich she has got from L. table. Suddenly she goes up C. and listens!). Listen! There's a carriage stopping. He's cornel [To herself.^ I knew he'd keep his promise. \^Aloud,1 I'll just tidy my hair. [Coming down 0. and over to door L. Mrs. S. But^ dearie, it's beautiful. [Moving down 0. Olive. Only one hairpin more. Now, will you open the door — or shall Jane ? I think you must — you look 80 sweet. Jane's good, but plain. [Olive bustles off quickly Iry door down T*. Mrs. S. smooths her apron and gives one little look in the glass to see that her side curls are straight. The good lady is gently excited and her face is wreathed in smiles. There is a knock at the door. Mrs, S. opens it. Mrs. S. Come in, sir. [Lady Margaret aiid Miss Prescott are at the door — jpav^e.'] I — I beg your pardon, ladies. Lady M. Is Miss Lawrence at home ? Mrs. S. Yes, ma'am ; won't you come in ? [Lady M. and Miss P. mter. Mrs. S closes door after them and crosses C. THE AWAKENING Lady M. Will you tell Miss Lawrence that Miss Prescott and Lady Margaret Staines have called to see her ? Mrs. S. Miss Olive will be here in a moment, my lady. She's just gone to smooth her hair. I'll bring the tea in. \Tdke8 the basket of flowers from 0. and goes off L. Exit Mrs. Selby, L.TJ.E. Lady M. [Looking around the room and then at the tea-tablej] Two cups, you see ! One for Jim, of course. How touching ! Miss P. [Down R.C.] The extra one may be for the local <5urate. Lady M. We shall see. Miss P. I hope you will remember you promised me to behave nicely to this little girl, otherwise I shouldn't have come. Lady M. I've promised myself to learn the truth. [Crosses Miss P. to R.O. [Olive enters quickly with a glad look, Olivb. Well? [Then she sees the ladies and stops short. THE A WAKENING 91 Miss P. \To Olive.] How do you do, Miss Lawrence? Lady Margaret and I thought we'd call to see you as we were passing. Lady M. [^Bomng.] Good evening. [Go to her C, shake hands and return again to RC. Olive. Good evening. I*m very pleased, « [Return to L.O. Miss P. [0.] We've heard so much from Lady Warristor of your pretty cottage. [Goiiig up 0. a little.] It is pretty, isn't it, Margaret ? Lady M. Very. Miss P. Such charming taste. Olive. The taste was my father's, you know. He was an artist. Miss P. One can see that at a glance, Olive. I often think that his spirit still lives here, and that is why I am never lonely. [Miter Mrs. S. with tea and tea-cakes, &c 9S THE A WAKENING Olive. \Going to chair L. of table.] Won't you sit down ana have some tea ? Lady M. [Sitting R.] No tea, thanks. [Olive whispers to Mrs. S., wh^ goes and gets another cup out of cabinet up L. Miss P. [Aside to her.] Don't be so beastly ungracious. r4Zow6^.J I'll have some tea, if you please. I'm just aying for a cup. [She goes to Olive, who sits at tea-table and officiates. Mrs. S. brings cup down and puts it on table R. of Olive, she then goes over to fire and brings kettle from the hob. Lady M. No, thanks. Olive. Sugar, Miss Prescott? Miss P. No sugar, thanks — [Sits L. of table"] — and may I take one of those delicious-looking cakes ? [Mrs. S. moves around to R. of Olive vnth kettle, Olive. Do. They are Mrs. Selby's pride. [Sits at back of table, [Miss P. takes a cake and eats heartily^ also takes her tea. Mrs. S. pours water into teapot, and then goes off upjj. THE A WAKENING 93 Miss P. They're too nice. Margaret, you're a fooL Lady M. I'm afraid we're in the way. You were expecting some one, Miss Lawrence ? Olivk Why do you think that, Lady Margaret? Lady M. It was very rude of me to notice, no doubt, but there were two cups. Miss P. Extremely rude. Olive. Not at all. [Slight patLse."] Mr. Trower said he might call. But — but I wasn't sure — anyway I'm glad some one has come to appreciate Mrs. Selby's cakes. Miss P. You're a dear child, and I shall have another. [Takes one. Lady M. Strange I I thought it might be Mr. Trower, Miss P. Hasn't it been a perfect day. Miss Lawrence? Have you been out much ? 94 THE A WA KENING Olive. No. I*ve been trying to work all day. Miss P. You paint, perhaps ? Olive. Very badly. Lady M. You've known Mr. Trower a long time, havtm'fc you? Olive. Only a few months. Miss P. The artistic impulse is often hereditary, I'm sure you paint better than you say. Olive. I wish I could think so. Lady M. I think Mr. Trower might have told us he was coming, and given us an opportunity of Miss P. \InterTupting^ We've made the opportunity for ourselves I'd like to see some of your work, Miss Lawrence, when I come again. Will you let me ? Olive. Of course I will. You are very kind. THE A WAKENING 9^ Lady M. I suppose you find living in this out of the way place a little dull. Olive. Oh no, it's very nice. Lady M. But there can't be many pleasant people to know. Olive. There are some. Lady M. It must have been quite exciting when Mr. Trower was staying in the village. Olive. It was very pleasant. Lady M. Quite a new experience ? [Miss P. puis cup on iable, Olive. Will you have some more tea, Miss Prescottt Miss P. No, thank you, dear. Lady M. Quite a new experience ? Olive. In what way, Lady Margaret I ^ THE A WAKENING Lady M. Well, you must suffer from a dearth of men down here. Olive. I don't think I've noticed it. Lady M. Anyway, the advent of so — so amiahle a person must have been a godsend. Olive. Mr. Trower is always very agreeable. Lady M. He is very popular in London, so one can under- stand his being at least equally successful here. Olive. I suppose so. [Embarrassed pattse. Lady M. Did he come to see you often ? But perhaps yon think the question rude ? Olive. Do you think it rude. Lady Margaret? Miss P. I do. [Slight patise. Lady M. It isn't intended to be. You see, we are Mr, Trower's most intimate friends, and are naturally very interested in his doings. THE A WAKENING 97 Miss P. \To Olivb.] You will understand, my dear, that Lady Margaret is speaking for herself. I haven't the least interest in Mr. Trower's movements. Lady M. [Resentfully to Miss P.] Thank you, dear, you are always so tactful and helpful. You needn't trouble to answer my question, Miss Lawrence, if it em- barrasses you, Olive. Why should it, Lady Margaret? Lady M. I'm sure I don't know. Olive. It — it doesn't. [Slight pattse,] Mr. Trower was kind enough to call sometimea Lady M. And, of course, you met him out? Olive. Yes — sometimes^ Lady M. Don't you think he talks very well ? Olive. Very welL Lady M. And reads 1 Olive. Beads? yS THE A WAKENING Lady M. Poetry. Olive. Oh, yes I Lady M. Are you fond of poetry ? Olive. Yery. [Lady Margaret rises and walks up R.O. to conceal her emotion. She is clenching and opening her hands. Olive remains still looking straight in front of her. Miss P. looks from one to the other anxiously — pause — Miss Presgott rises and moves up to Margaret up 0. Miss P. I really think we must go now, Margaret. Lady M. [Recovered.'] In a minute. Oh, what a charming edition of Keats. [She takes up a hook which is lying an a chair in tlie window. [Olive's lips tighten, hut she does not look Miss P. Do let me see it. [Lady M. opens the hook at the fly-leaf ^ reads what is there y and her face darkens. She hands the hook to Miss P., who is on her L. THE A WAKENING 99 Miss P. \Bjeading in a low voice.'] "To Olive from Jim." Well — that proves nothing. [^HaTids the hook hack and crosses down R. Lady M. It suggests everything. [She throios the hook aside and comes dmon to Olive, O.j Mr. Trower gave you that book ? Olive. Yes. [Rises and offers her chair to Lady M. Slight paiise,] Won't you sit down again, Lady Margaret ? Lady M. Olive. [Moves down to L. corner of tahle?^ Pm sorry. I'm afraid you are displeased. Lady M. Probably your favourite poem of Keats is the «* Ode to the Nightingale " ? Olive. Yes. Lady M. Because it is Mr. Trower's ? Olive. Because I think it the best. Lady M. I was rude enough to look at the inscription in loo THE AWAKENING that book. I seem to be committed to rudeness to- day. Olive. I'm sure you wouldn't intentionally be rude, Lady Margaret. [Lady M. is taken aback; Miss P. leans on hack of R. so/a. Miss P. \Coming down L.] I ask you, Margaret, to exer- cise some self-control. \Fause, [Lady M. walha a little way R. and hack. Lady M. \More gently. \ I don't wish to be horrid. It isn't like me. I think you'll acknowledge that, Molly. Miss P. Of course I do, dear. I assure you, Miss Lawrence, Lady Margaret is the best-natured creature in the world. Come, Margaret, we really must go. Lady M. I think it my duty first to tell Miss Lawrence, who doesn't know the world as we do, that for a man like Mr. Trower to inscribe a book to her in that way, isn't — isn't right. \Pau8e?^ It isn't done except among very intimate friends, who are accus- tomed to address each other by their Christian names. \Axokward pause. Impatiently. '\ Molly, you know it isn't. Miss P. Certainly, my dear ; but it seems to me that Mr. Trower is the proper person to address on the subject. [Olive is standing with her head bowed. THE AWAKENING loi Lady M. \Tentatively^ Of course if Miss Lawrence is accustomed to address Mr. Trower by his Christian name — \Pause — receiving no reply she proceeds] — if they have reached that degree of intimacy — [Pause — moves a little towards Olive.] I think you might answer my question, Miss Lawrence. Olive. [Raising her head.] What question, Lady Mar- garet ? Lady M. Do you and Mr. Trower address each other as — as Jim — ^and Olive ? That is your name, I think ? [Molly inoves down R. a little. Olive. I would always wish to address Mr. Trower in any way that he prefers. Lady M. [Angrily.] That is only a long way of saying yes. [Going up C. Pause. Miss P. [TFz^^ sudden determination crosses L.O. and shakes hands with her.] Good afternoon, dear Miss Law- rence. Thank you so much. I've enjoyed my tea enormously. I'll come and see you next time I'm at Blair House. Of course you may stay if you like, Margaret, but my own feeling is [Going up C. Lady M. \Interrupting — stopping her C] Stay with me only I02 THE A WAKENING two minutes more, Molly. \In a lower voiee."] I beg you in the name of our friendship. [ With a sign of resignation Miss P. crosses and sits on sofa again R.O. Lady M. seems to have again succeeded in controlling herself — crosses to R. of L. fable.] I only want to say, Miss Lawrence, that if I have seemed unkind — I — I am sorry. Olive. [Distressed — goim^ to her.] Oh, please don't say any more, Lady Margaret. Lady M. I was only speaking in your own interest. Miss P. I hate rot. Lady M. You know I was — partly. [To Molly.] You know it is not a good thing for a young and unpro- tected girl like Miss Lawrence to receive attentions which mean nothing from a man in the position of Mr. Trower. Olive. It is very kind of you, Lady Margaret, to take an interest in — in my interests. Lady M. Such an intimacy, however harmless — [pause — she looks at Olive] — however innocent — [another slight pause] — can lead to no good. It might give rise to mistaken ideas, to — to hopes which — which could never be realised. Anyway, it is certain to occasion gossip. If you had had as much experience of the world as I have, Miss Lawrence, you would know THE A WAKENING 103 that it is very — very ill-natured. There is nothing 80 easy to lose as one's good name. Olive. Yes! Lady M. I don't blame you — I have no right to. But I do blame Mr. Trower — \Turning to Miss P.] — and I suppose you'll admit, Molly, I have that right. Miss P. Tell him so then, Olive. "What right, Lady Margaret? \Paiise. Lady M. and Miss P. look ai each other. Miss P. [With a learning gesture to Lady M.] The right of a friend, of course. Lady M. The right of one of his most intimate friends. Our little coterie of friends, Miss Lawrence, are like members of the same family. We stick up for each other and criticise each other, and, if necessary, blame each other, just like brothers and sisters. And none of us could possibly approve of these— these secret visits of Mr. Trower's to you — particu larly as he will be getting married very soon. Olive. [Turning white."] Married? 104 THE A WAKENING Lady M. Well t [Miss Fbescx>it itMi. Olivb. It's not true. • Lady M. Indeed 1 Olivb. \Smiling incredulously.'] He would have told m& Lady M. [Quickly, crosses C] Then you admit there is something between you ? Olive. [Alarmed.] I don't know what you mean? Lady M. [Fiercely, going to Tier.] That there is something more between you and Mr. Trower than poetry and friendship. Olive. [Shrinking away from L.] I can't — I can't talk to you, Lady Margaret. Miss P. [R.O., passionately.] Stop, Margaret I I can't stand it. Look at that child's face. It's whiter than her frock. [Note : Olivb is in white. THE AWAKENING 105 Lady M. It only shows I'm right. Miss P. Gome home, then. [Olivb motoes to fireplace. Lady M. I mean to know for certain. Miss P. [Much agitated.] In God's name, haven't you any heart? [Pointing to Olive, who has covered her face with her hands. Lady M. [ With great passion, R.] Heart ! Heart ! You dare ask me that, when you know it's breaking — torn to pieces. Why should your pity go to others % How dare you, I say — you who pretend to love me? [Dovm L.O. Miss P. [Struggling with her emotion^ up R.C] I do love you, and I pity you — I pity you all — but I can't stand it. I can't help anybody — I must go. Give me my things. [Lady M. hastily hands her handker- chief, gloves, ^c, which are on C. table.] I wasn't made for this sort of thing. [Half sobbing.] I could cry myself to death — I really could. I only ask that you'll all be kind to each other ; but I've endui'ed all io6 THE A WAKENING I can. Don't bother — I'll walk home. I r( couldn't stay. [Miss P. makes this speech as one who only just avoids art hysterical attack of weep' ing. Exit Miss P., E.. [Lady M. remains perfectly still until Miss P. is gone. Olive remains L. She has removed her hands from her face, and is supporting herself with one Tiand on a table or chair. There is a considerable pause after Miss P.'s exit. Lady M. [R. of L.O. table.] Tell me the truth, Miss Lawrence ; we are alone now, and can bare our hearts to each other without any one knowing. If you will be frank with me, I swear that no one shall ever know besides ourselves, and I — I'll be a friend to you, I promise you I will. Olive. [Rises.'] There is nothing that I can tell you, Lady Margaret. Lady M. Will you answer my questions ? Olive. I can't — when — when they are about other people. Lady M. You mean about Mr. Trower ? Olive. Yes. THE A WAKENING I07 Lady M. Ill ask you sometliing, then, quite kindly and without any anger — you see how quiet I am — ^just as one woman to another. Are you in love with him? Olive. [OossesR.] I can't answer you, Lady Margaret; I can't talk with you like this. I don't want to be rude, but won't you go away now ? Lady M. Your evasion answers me. \Going towards her R.O.] Oh, you foolish, foolish girl, if you only knew! He has made love to you, and you have listened to him — ^believed him ? Olfte. Please go away. Lady M. [Coming close to Tier.] Tell me. Olive. [Moving to Lady Margaret, for tJve first time sTiaw- ing indifj nation.] I'll tell you nothing — answer no- thing. I'll not discuss Mr. Trower with you — I'll not lay bare my heart to you. Lady M. Good God, he's not your lover? Olive. Please go away. lo8 THE A WAKENING Lady M. Is he your lover ? Olive. Won't you please leave me ? Lady M. \With increasing vehemence.'] Answer me. Olive. You frighten me. If you won't go, I must. [Turns to go L, Lady M. [Stopping her 0.] Wait. [Catching her by her arm."] You won't trust me with your secret — 111 trust you with mine. [Turning away down L.C.] He is my lover. [There is a pause, Olive. [In a hoarse whisper.] It's not true. Lady M. [Going up to her.] It's true ; but don't look at me like that. I'm sorry I was obliged to tell you. Olive. [ Wildly.] It's not true. It's not true. Go away, please. It's not true. [A little B. Lady M. It's been true for over a year. Ask him. Olive. I believe in him. I shall die believing in him. THE A WAKENING 109 Lady M. You poor little fool ! \Moving towards her, Olive. [Shrinking away to sofa, B,.] No — go away — can't you see that I must be alone ? [She sits on couch R., aTid buries her face in the cushions. Lady Margaret looks at her and hesitates — pause — suddetily her face so/tens and she is drawn sym- pathetically towards the little figure on the conch. She goes towards her^ and wh£n near stretches out her hand as if to touch her, TJien her mood changes, her face hardens. She with- draws her hand. She takes her parasol and slowly leaves the room, R., closing the door gently after her. After apavse, Olive looks up. She has not cried, but there is a look of pain and fear in her face. She rises, and mechani- cally puts the cushion straight on the couch. Olive. [Sol.] It's a lie. [Goes up E.G. and looks at door R.] I believe in him ! I believe in him ! [She clasps her hands, which are still trembling slightly ; she smooths her hair back.] If he would only come ! [She goes up to window, there she picks up the " Keats " Lady M. has thrown down ; she smooths the pages that have been turned by the fall.] I must believe in him — though he doesn't come. I lo THE A WAKENING Erder Mbs. Selby, L. Crosses to L.O. table, Mrs. S. Shall I take the tea-things, Miss Olive ? Olive. Yes, please. Mrs. S. [Behind the table.'] The Great Man didn't come after all. Olive. The Great Man didn't come. Mrs. S. Perhaps he forgot. Olivb, Perhaps he forgot. Mrs. S. Men promise so lightly — even Great Men, don't they, dearie % Olive. [C, obstinately f hut with a little catch in her throat. "l I believe in him. Mrs. S. Of course, dear. \Pic1iS up tea-tray."] No doubt he'll come to-morrow. [Puts tray up C] Perhaps you'd like to move the flowers yourself, dearie ? Olive. Yes. [Is below table. She gathers the flowen from the tea-table. THE A WAKENING ill Mrs. S. \B.dnm8 to table. Seeing Olive closer. '\ What's the matter. Miss Olive? You look like the ghost of yourself. Olive. I am the ghost of myself — perhaps. [She crosses R., takes the jlowers tu'R., and rearranges them in the vases. Then her head droops on her hands, Mrs. Selby watches her sympathetically from the table — pause. Goes wp — takes up tea things again, Mrs. S. You could write him, you know, dearie. \She takes the tea-tray and exit up L, Olive. \BMing?^ It was a lie. I'll write to him. ^akes writing materials and ink from L. to L.O. table. With some show of energy she siti^ doicn L. of table to write, Olive hesitates for a moment and then suddenly begins to write with great rapidity and agitation. After finishing a page she stops and reads what she has written. She hesitates, then slowly tears up the paper. Olive. [Pen between her fingers ; suddenly she takes a sheet 1 13 THE A WA KENING of paper and torites] "Won't you come to me before my heart breaks ? [She folds the paper ^ puts it in an en- velope, addresses and blots it, then rises^ pushes chair hack. She comes a little down, pressing the letter against her heart. Won't you come to me before my heart breaks ? [Slight pause. That might make him think I doubted him, which I don't [She looks at the letter and puts it against her cheek. I can't send it. [Grosses to fire, puts letter in fire. Rises. I can't even cry. [Her eyes have a wild strained look. At . a few paces from the mirror she sees her refiection and stares at herself. Cry a little, eyes, won't you ? [Slie utters a dry gasping sobf and turning towards door E.. walks slowly towards it, her head thrown back. Enter Mrs. Selby, L. Mrs. S. Where are you going, Miss Olive ? Olive. [Opening door.l Into the air. THE A WAKENING II3 Mrs. S. Does your head ache, dearie % Olivk. No, I don't think so. Mrs. S. Shall I come with you ? Olive. Na I think I must go alone. \Exii Olive, E. Pause, Mrs. Sblby shuts door. Olive appears at the win- dow 0. Mrs. S. [Opening window.^ Be careful, dearie ; the pool is deep. Olive. You can see the bottom when it doesn't rain. [Olive disappears, [Mrs. Selbt stands 0. at the toindow looking out for some moments. She then aymes down into the room and busies herself putting things straight. Mrs. S. [Thoughtfully.] What can be the matter with the child? [She returns to the toindow and looks ovi^ evidently watching Olive with earnest attention, A, considerable pause, Mrs. 71 4 THE AWAKENING Selby puts clofJi from L.O. table in drawer of table in window. [The evening shadows are falling. An old clock in the room strikes three-quarters of the hour. There is a knock at the door, but *M.B,s. Selby does not hear — a slight pause — enter Trower — Mbs. Selby hears him and turns. Trower. [R.O.] Good evening, Mrs. Selby. Where is Miss Olive? Mrs. S. [0., pointing.'] She is there, sir. Trower. What is she doing ? Mrs. S. [Coming down 0. a little.] Only looking into the water. But she seems strange to-night. I'm worried about her. Trower. Has anything happened ? Mrs. S. Nothing, sir — only two ladies called. Trower. [Frovming.'] I thought so. Mrs. S. And Tm afraid there was some angry feeling, THE A WAKENING 1 1 5 for I couldn't help hearing their voices were raised, and [Trower tum» quickly and eadts R. [A pause. Then he is seen passing out- side the window quickly. Mrs. Selby's eyes follow him. Goes to window, Trower. [Outside.] Olive! Olivb. [Outside,] Jim I Mrs. S. [Comes down L.O. She gives signs of a gentle agitation — Sol] Perhaps the Great Man loves her. [ Very softly she goes L. end exits L.U.E. just as Olive and Trower jjoss the window. Slight pause. Enter Olive and Trower, R. ; he is half supporting her with his right arm. She comes into the room while he remains for a moment to close the door. She turns and fa>ces him. He goes to her, look- ing at her earnestly. He crosses and puts hat on table, L.O. Olive. [L.O.] It is really you. I thought you would never come again. But I didn't doubt you — never for a moment. Trower. [0,] What were you doing at the water 1 Olive. Only looking in. [ Very nervously , with a touch of 1 16 THE A WAKENING suppressed hysteria.'] I thought I might see that wily old trout that even you couldn't catch. But I could see nothing. My eyes ache, Jim. Trower. Why do your eyes ache, little one ? Olivb. Because I can't cry. Trowbb. Why should you cry ? Olive. Because I was unhappy until you came. But you know I didn't doubt you, don't you ? Tbowes. Yes. Olivb. Say that you love me. [Stretching out her arms towards him, Teower. I love you. [He holds her in his arms. Olivb. I'm tired. Trowbr. Lie down for a little while. [Grosses to sofa and fixes cushions, Olivb. No. [Going to sofa,] But I'd like to close my THE A WAKENING 1 17 eyes just for a minute with my head on your shoulder. May I? \Sits on sofa. Trowkb. Of course. [Sits by her. Olive. Sit here, then. [Goes to the couch. He sits^ she sits beside Mm, closes her eyes, and reds her head on his shoulder. He passes his arm round her.^ How good you are to me. Trower. [Kissing her hand.] You mustn't go so near to the water again. Olive. I promise. Were you afraid for me ? Trower. Yes. Olive. K I had fallen in, you would have been sorry. Trowee. [With a shudder.'] Don't. [He holds her closer to him. [Pause. Her eyes are closed. Trower stares in front of him; his face is haggard. Olive. [Dreamily.] You couldn't say that you loved me unless it were true. Trowes. No. 1 18 THE A WAKENING Olive. [Raising her head.] Jim, I'm so happy again. [Raising herself.] What reason had Lady Margaret for telling me lies ? Trowbb. Lady Margaret? Olivb, Yes. Trowbiu What did she tell you ? I can't say it. Tell me. Olivbl Troweb. Olive. I didn't mean to mention it, although it nearly killed me. I didn't mean even to speak of it Trowee. Tell me. Olive. She said — that — that you were her lover. [Trower rises, crosses 0.] You are angry. [i2«se».] But I didn't believe it, Jim. I didn't even ask you to deny it just to please me, did I ? I don't ask you now — I don't ask you to say anything. [Pause, She looks at him, hut lie is not looking at her. Then she adds in a low voice] We'll never speak of it again, dear. Trower. We must speak of it. THE A WAKENING II9 OnvB. No^ forgive me, and don't say any more. Trower. I must — I must. Olive. No, no, it's unworthy of you and me. Tbower. \'Not looking ai Tier,] Lady Margaret spoke the truth. Olivr [Quickly.] No! [She trembles and stretches out her arms as if to ward off a hlowJ] No — take it back — it isn't true. Teowee. It is true ! Olivb. No ! [Slight pause.] Not when you came to me. Years ago, perhaps; but not — not when you — not when you first said you loved me. Trowbb. It was true then. [Olive's arms fall to her side. She be- comes rigid. Pause. Trower looks at her for the first time since he began his confession y and is alarmed, Trower. [Going to her.] Olive, Olive. [He stretches out his arms towards she shrinks away from him. 1 20 THE A WA KENING Olive. \Momng hack in terrm^ as he advances.^ No, no, no I [Trower stops.^ Don't come near me — I'm frightened of you. Oh, my God ! My God ! What shall I do ? What shall I do ? [Pattse — suddenly she comes a few paces towards him and stops.] Say it — [leans on back of sofa] — isn't true — or kill me. [Paiise, He foldi his arms very tightly across his chest.] Be kind — be a little kind. Trower. [Gently, not looking at her, but loith authority.] Sit down. Olive. [Weakly.] Yes — yes — [she sits on sofa R.] — perhaps I haven't understood. [She sits at the end of the couchf looking at him vaguely. Trower. I won't lie to you — I can't. Olivr No. Trower. Don't look at me. Olive. I beg your pardon. [Sfie looks down, Trower. It would be less brutal to lie to you than to tell you the truth, but I can't do itl I have lied to THE AWAKENING I2t women all my life — I, who have never, that I know of, lied to a man ; but I can't to you — you compel the truth — perhaps it is because I love you. You won't understand half I confess. You couldn't understand the miserable, pleasure-seeking, remorse- less life led by such an egotist as I have been. I have told many women that I loved them, knowing that I lied. I hadn't even the excuse of mistaking passion for love. Down here last April I told you that I loved you. I lied. It wasn't true then. It wasn't true tUl yesterday — yesterday when you came down the garden at Blair House. That was my awakening — too late for forgiveness — or is it not too late ? God knows. To a man or woman of my own world I could perhaps excuse myself of everything except my sin against you. With many of us — not all, thank God — love is only a game — a game in which each plays for his or her hand, greedy for passing pleasure. That is the life I have lived. But I have repented — I have suffered remorse. I have come to-day to lay my wretched life at your feet : to ask you not to forgive, but to deal mercifully with me — to make what you can of me — to be my wife. Don't think that in asking you to marry me I imagine I am making atonement. Don't even think I could deem myself a worthy husband for you. I only know that i love you, and that my confession became in- evitable from the moment of our meeting in the garden yesterday. I haven't slept since, and I was late in coming to you to-day because of the fear that I was coming to hear my doom. Olive, Olive, have you any mercy ? Speak to me — one word. [Olive tums^ loohs down at him for a mo- ment, rises and stands in front of couch. 122 THE A WAKENING Olivb. There is nothing to say. Trower. [Rises?^ Pity. Olivb. Yes. Go Troweb, Don't send me away. Olivb. You are not mine. Trower, Every throb of my heart is yours. Olive. \Leaning with Tier left hand on the hack of the eottchf waves her right towards the door,^ Please. Trower. [iJwes.] I dare not leave you alona Olive. The spirit of my father lives here. He loved me. Trower. I may come again ? THE A WAKENING 123 Olive. Never I Trower. But I would watch over you. Olive. [Bitterly.] I know the way of the world now. Trower. Olive I [Olive moves towards him.] Have mercy I Olive. [Raising her hand.] Stop ! [She raises herself to her full height,] You — you compromise me ! [Very slowly Trower goes R. and exits, shutting door after him. Olive stands rigid for a moment, then stretches out her hands as if she cannot see, and walks two paces. Trower slowly passes the window. [R.O., in a whisper-] Father — you can hear me, can't you ? [A little louder.] I didn't know, dear — I didn't know. [She gropes her way to the wall up C. and slides doivn, her back to the audience. She lies prone. Suddenly she bursts into sobs, " A pause. Curtain, OF ACT m ACT IV ScnsNB — Saine as Act /. It is about five in t7i§ afternoon. [On curtain rising there is a pavse. Then the main door opens and Trower enters. He is dressed for the afternoon, and still wears his hat and gloves. Jarvis fol- lows him into the room. Trower, though as carefully groomed as always, looks pale and ill. Trowee hands Jarvis his hat. Trower. Any one here ? [Begins to take gloves offj L.O. Jarvis. [Cross 0.] Mr. Harris, the election agent, and two other gentlemen, sir. Trower. In the library ? Jarvis. Yes, sir. Trower, You'll have some tea sent in there. 124 THE A WAKENING 125 Jarvis. Yes, sir. [Trower hands gloves to Jarvis.] Are you at home, sir ? Trower. To any of my friends, yes. And I wish to know immediately when Miss Prescott calls. Mr. Harris won't detain me long. Any letters ? Jarvis. Several, sir. [Trower goes to his desk, R., and eagerly turns letters over. He selects the largest envelope^ glances at the handwriting^ hesitates for a moment, then opens it, Jarvis watches him with a discreetly symimthetic expression. Trower takes from the envelope several unopened letters he has iry, va- I. Cos- ~veniiig. __emale8. ivening. LD21-l00m-7,'40 (6936s) '- Syracuse, N. Y. PAT.JAH.21.1i ^(B115?