The Squire: An Original Comedy in Three ActsPinero, Arthur Wing
General
The Squire: An Original Comedy in Three Acts
Pinero, Arthur Wing
Comedy plays; English drama -- 19th century
{Kate.} _(softly)_ Good-night! Good-night!
_(There is the sound of the closing of a door in the
distance)_ Gone! _(she looks round)_ Quite alone
_(She shuts the door softly, then with uncertain
steps walks to the settee L., upon which she sinks
with a low moan--starts up wildly)_ It's late! Let
me see! _(she takes her wedding ring from her pocket)_
My wedding ring--I'll hide that; it is such a lie to
carry about with me. _(She hurriedly opens a small
drawer in the bureau R., of it and brings it to table)_
It will rest there, and can never be laughed at. _(she
takes off her bracelets)_ These too--Eric's gifts, _(she
throws them into the open drawer, then takes the
locket from her neck)_ Eric's portrait, _(she opens the
locket and gazes at the portrait, earnestly)_ Another
woman's husband! _(she rises)_ Nobody sees me.
_(music--kisses locket--Eric covers his face with
his hands. Kate throws locket into the drawer. As
she does so, she catches sight of the papers lying
there. She seizes them)_ Papers! I had almost forgotten.
They would tell tales, if--if anything bad
happened to me. _(She examines them. Eric comes
from the recess as if about to speak. Kate opens a
letter. From Eric when his regiment was quartered
at--(reading)_--"My own Kate." Oh! _(Eric sinks
horror-stricken, upon the chair by the bureau--his
head drops upon his arm. Kate finds an old photograph)_
Ah! a photograph of the church where we
were married. I remember--we entered at that door
--not the one under the porch--and it brought us to
the chancel. Ah, here it is--_(reading)_ "The Parish
Church of St. Paul, at Blissworth, in Yorkshire."
How pretty. It's one hundred and fifty miles away.
What a long journey for such a marriage. A valentine!
_(she takes the papers and kneels at the fire-place.
She goes down on her knees before fire and
burns the papers, first kissing them. Eric raises
his head)_ A lucky thing that Christie made such a
bright fire for me. _(shivering)_ And yet it is cold.
Ha! I suppose heat never comes from burnt love
letters, _(to the letters)_ Good-bye! Good-bye! _(Eric
rises and slowly comes down C.)_
{Eric.} _(hoarsely)_ Kate!
{Kate.} _(with a cry she starts up and faces him)_
Eric!
_(Music stops.)_
{Eric.} I know everything. I have heard. What
have you to say to me?
_(Kate walks feebly towards him behind chair.)_
{Kate.} _(leaning on chair for support)_ Nothing
but--leave me. I am looking at you now for the
last time, _(passes behind table to C. R., of bureau)_
{Eric.} How can I leave you when we are bound
by such ties? My love chains me to you--nothing
earthly can break that?
{Kate.} The same words with which you wooed
that other woman! _(passes to front of table)_
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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