■\ '^- '•. d . - \ CORNELL UNIVERSITY LIBRARY Joseph Whitmore Barry dramatic library THE GIFT OP TWO PRIENDS OF Cornell University ^934 DATE DUE trtot r«flf I^?J 1^^ ii^> ^ ' - , ^ t? .^■^s -r--;!s:5 ^ bto f^dT? ^ CAYLORO PRINTED rNU.S A. jrr IN FOUR UCTS By C. HADDON CHAMBERS LONDON: WILLIAM HEINEMANN MDCCCC 4 ti?0 J '- TO MY MOTHER Tei{SONS C03^CE%NED Me. Parbury. Mr. George Gunning. ■ " " -fXjtJ ■ 'i-^*^ Colonel Abmitage, Mrs. Parhury's father. Mrs. Paebuey. Miss Hyacinth Woodward. Evans, Parbun/s butler. Caroline, Mrs. Parbury's maid. THE TYRANNY OF TEARS ACT I Scene. — Mr. Clement Parbury's study at his house in the neighbourhood of Hampstead Heath. The main entrance leading from the hall is L. A door, E., leads to the dining-room. A glass door, E.G., opens into a garden. The fireplace is C. The room is comfortably and not severely fur- nished. T/ie furniture is made up of " odds and ends " selected with taste. The couch down L. is a deep and cosy one; the desk or writing-table about R.C. is a large and serviceable one. There is a smaller desk higher up, and near it on toall, E., a telephone apparcdus. The apartment altogether represents the workshop of a literary man of care- less good taste. There is a touch, too, of femi- ninity in its deeorcdions, and a portrait of Mrs. Parbury is the only picture on the walls, which otherwise are mostly hidden by bookcases. [For a few moments before and when the curtain rises the noise of street singers is heard. Miss Woodward and Evans are discovered. Miss Woodward is dressed uiith severe simplicity in a costume of dark colour, A 3 THE 1 y RAN NY OF TEARS with linen cvllar and cuffs ; her dark hair is drauii hack from her forehead. Her costiriiie, hiding well cut, does not conceal the graceful outline of her fgure. She is a hauilsuiiip, innocent, get detennined-lool'ing girl of ticruig. She is at the window looh- ing out. Evans. \_Raising his voice aboce the outside singers.'\ They wouldn't listen to me, Miss Woodward ! [^Suddenly the music stajis. A pause.'] Ah, they've listened to ^Ir. Parbiiry ! [Miss NVoodayard ijoes to desk, R., sits.] ]Mr. Parbiiry 's a very masterful man — outside his house — isn't he, Miss 1 [Miss Woodward favours EvA.Ns u-ith a cold stare, then resumes icork at desk.] [Aside.] What an iceberg that young woman is ! [Telephone hell rings.] [Exit Evans, L. [Miss Woodward goes to telephone and talus line. !Miss Woodward. [Speaking into telephone — verg sweetly.] Yes, are you there ? — yes — who are you ? (Speak a little louder, please. Oh ] — Well ? Yes — I don't know — Mr. Parbury's just coming in now — he'll speak to you — keep the line. [She returns to the desk. Enter Mr. Parbury from garden. His hair is nntidg ; he is flustered and cross. He is an agreealile-looking man of atjout forty. Parbury. Thank heaven, they're gone ! This house is a mis- take I With the nerve force one expends in swear- THE TYRANNY OF TEARS 3 ing at street singers one might do some good work. Make a note, please — look for house in secluded part of country. [Miss Woodward maMs note.] And make a note — write Times re Street Music; suggest Local Option. Miss Woodward. The Saturday Sentinel is waiting to speak to you on the telephone. Parbury. Oh, worrying about the article, I suppose. [^Goes to telephone.] Hullo! hullo! [Gives them a ring up.] Are you there ? \_Grossly.] Are you there ? Well? [Pause; he listens.] Oh, of course, still harping on my article. I suppose that's you, Jackson ? Oh, well, if you'll keep this confounded telephone quiet, and send a man to clear the neighbourhood of street singers, you'll have a chance of receiving the copy in half-an-hour. What? All right, old man. Yes, yes. I'll send it by special messenger. Yes. Good- bye ! [Rings off, and hangs up tube.] That is another mistake — that telephone. Miss Woodward. I was afraid you would find it so. Paebury. You were right ! You are always right ! But my wife thought it would save me a lot of correspondence and a lot of going out. [Aside, luith a sigh.] I always liked going out. [^towtZ.] Make a note, please — get rid of the telephone. [Miss Woodward makes note.] [Goes to top of table, E.G.] Now we'll get on, please. I've promised the article in half -an -hour. 4 THE TYRANNY OF TEARS \Litolts at his luatdi.] They go to press this after- noon. Miss Woodward. [&Vs at desk, note-booh before her.] Shall I read the last sentence ? Please. Parbury. Miss Woodward. [neaC(l. Mrs. Paebury. I'm not interrupting, am I, darling? Paebury. [Concealing Ms irritation.] No, darling, but- Mrs. Parbury. ril be ever so quiet. [Comes to couch, sits L.] Parbury. Yes, I know, dear — but, I fear — I fear you'll be rather bored. I'm dictating an article that must be iinished this afternoon Mrs. Parbury. Oh, I shall like it ! Go on as if I were not in the room. But oh, how tumbled your hair is. [Rises, goes to him.] I must put it straight. Then you'll be able to think better. There ! Now I can see his clever forehead again ! [Goes to couch and sits.] [Parbury walJcs up C. and hack, trying to collect his thoughts; then he looks at Mrs. Parbury with the wish in his face that she loere not there ; finally he goes over to Miss Woodward and spealts in a lowered voice. Parbury. [At top of table, E.] What was that last 1 6 THE TYRANNY OF TEARS Miss AVoodwaed. [Beo'Iiiir/ in a lov:ereiJ voice.] " 'What follows in the approval of the unthinking, the applause of the un- cultured makes up." Parburt. Yes, yes. Makes up ! [Fidr/efmr/.] ^Slakes up— [J^igneri/.] What does it make up? I'm damned if I know what it does make up now ? I've forgotten. Miss Woodward. [Lnol-iiii/ lip at him leifh discreet sympathy after a glance at IMrs. Parbury.] Shall I go back a little ? Parbuey. Please do. <.'ut the other ; it doesn't make up anything. I\fiss Woodward. [^Readinij.] " One gathers from the complacency of his manner that his iconoclasm is its own reward." Parbury. Thanks. Where's his article? [JMiss Woodward rises, r/ires him an open iiiaiin::ine, and resumes her seat. [After f/lanciiii/ at the mar/ir.ine, and .■>till in a low ('ce.J " His smug self-sufficiency " [P(»(se.] Mrs. Parbury. Darling ! I can't hear you. [Pr(»se. Paebury's and Miss Wood- ward's eyes meet. voice THE TYRANNY OF TEARS 7 Paebury. Can't you, dear ? 1 suppose I must unconsciously have lowered my voice. Mrs. Parburt. I'm sure you did. Parbuey. I've an idea, \_Qoines helmid her and touches her shoulders caressingly ^^ Suppose I finish the article quickly and give it to you to read before sending it away ? Mrs. Paebury. Yes, do. [Parbury looks at her, expecting her to move, hut she doesn't. Parbuey. Well, dear? Mrs. Paebury. [ Wonderingly-I Well ? Parbuey. You — you're not going 1 Mrs. Paebuey. Going ! Parbuey. Yes, dear. I thought Mrs. Parbury. [With great reproach, and loolcing as if about to cry.^ Clement! [She rises, and with trembling hands begins to gather up her fancy work.'\ 8 THE TYRANNY OF TEARS Parbury. \_Rdenting?^ Don't go, dear, unless you wish to. Mrs. Parburt. [More tremblingly and tearfully.] I certainly don't wish to remain where I am unwelcome. Parbury. [RepwachfuUy.'] Mabel ! Mrs. Parbury. I thought I had a right to be where my husband was — that the privileges of a wife were at least equal to those of a secretary. Parbury. [In a low voice.'] Hush, dear ! [Turns to Miss Woodward, lolio has been a secret but attentive observer of the scene.] Miss Woodward, would you kindly run what we have done into type ? We'll finish presently. [Miss Woodward rises, takes her notes, an/7 rrnsses to door, L. At the screen she pa7(se« a moment, shrugs her shoulders, and e.vits RLE. [Parbury jmsses his arm round Mrs. Parbury. Mrs. Parbury. [Freeing herself] Ob, no; you wished me to go, and I'm going. Parbury. It doesn't matter now. [Grimly.] The article THE TYRANNY OF TEARS 9 hasn't a million to one chance of being finished this afternoon. Mes. Parbury. Why did you send Miss Woodward away ? Pabbuey. Frankly ? [Puts magazine on table, R. Mbs. Paebury. Of course. Pabbuey. Because I hate scenes before other people. Mes. Pabbuey. Scenes ! What do you mean '{ Pabbuey. [C] What ! Isn't there to be a scene ? How splendid ! Mrs. Parbury. [L.O.] I don't understand the humour you are in. Parbury. I'm in a capital humour, dear. You've saved me for the moment from a savage attack on the work of a man whom I respect and admire. Mes. Pabbuey. You mean simply that I've interrupted your work. You will not have reason to complain again. [Is going. Pabbuey. Wait, dear. lo THE TYRANNY OF TEARS Mes. Parbuey. No, no. There are things one can't get over. Perhaps you can explain why it is that Miss Wood- ward's presence doesn't disturb you, while mine does ? Parbuey. Easily. Miss Woodward is a mou.se. Mits. Parbuey. I hate mice ! Parbuey. I mean she is a table — a chair — a desk — a dic- tionary — a something useful that is always in the right place at the right moment, and j'et of whose presence one is pleasantly unconscious. She is a triumph of the negative. Mrs. Paebury. And I ? \H.er face is not tiirneiJ to him. Parbury. Positive, my love — quite positive ; you bristle with emotions. A\'hen you are in the room, one knows it. [Mrs. Parbuey ^a/iv's om/ /(''/■ hamlliercliief ami begins to mj. Pause. Parbury, irhn has {/otie to desk, looks round inijuiringhj, thru coines duirn gentlij and sees lohat site is doing.'] [/-Ixa/e.] Exactly ! Miis. Parbury. [Wiping her eyes.\ Of course I quite understand now that you don't love me. THE TYRANNY OF TEARS n Paebury. \_Gomes to her, concealing his impatience.] But I do ! I do ! Mas. Parbury. Oh no, you don't ! When we were first married you didn't object to my being in the room when you were working. Paebury. I admit I didn't say so then ; I was younger, and had more patience and stronger nerves. Mrs. Paebuey. [Turning to him with a gleam of anger.] Then you admit you have always objected to my presence in your study 1 Parbury. [Smoothly.] I admit I have always felt that a writing man's writing hours are sacred hours. Mrs. Parbury. They shouldn't be sacred from his wife. Parbury. [Gently.] They should be sacred to his wife, dear. [Slight pause.] If you were a writing woman you would understand what I mean. Mrs. Parbury. I'm sure I'm very sorry I'm not a genius, but you understood that when you married me, didn't you ? 12 THE TYRANNY OF TEARS Parbury. Yes, darling, I quite understood that ! \Hii ap- pears to say this quite unconsciously. Mrs. Parbury turns to him itr(_'ply offended, then siidileii/;/ (joes up to leave the room. He quicldy meets tier, C.J [Talcing her hands.~\ I only knew you were the best little woman in the world ! Mrs. Parbury. [Struggling to free her hands.] Don't, please. I'm going ! Parbury. Where ? Mrs. Parbury. To send Miss Woodward to you, since you prefer her society to mine. Parbury. But I tell you I'm scarcely conscious of the girl's existence; anyway, it was you who brought her here. You may remember I proposed having a male secretary. ^Irs. Parbury. Yes; to make a companion of at my expense. You were always a man'.s man ! If I had had more experience I would have known that by the host of men friends you had when we married. Parbury. [Clieerihj.] I haven't them now, dear. THE TYRANNY OF TEARS Mrs. Paebury. You mean — that I — [Struggling to release her hands.] You are most brutal. Let me go ! Parbury. Not while you are angry, dear. [Gently fm'ces hei' into a chair, R.C. [There is another slight pause. She is certainly angry, but she doesn't attempt to leave the chair. He loolcs down at her, and lays a hand lightly on her hair. Mrs. Parbdry. [Brushing his hand away.] Please don't do that. I am not a child ! [Parbury talces a chair and sits next to her. Pause.] Perhaps you will tell me why you have used your superior strength to keep me here against my will 1 Parbury. [Talcing her hand.] Do you know that I'm very much in love with you ? Mrs. Parbury. You in love with me ! You don't know what love is ! All you feel at this moment is the sort of insolent pity the strong have for the weak. Parbury. You weak, darling ! Oh, come ! You know better than that I You can't be unconscious of your power ! 14 THE TYRANNY OF TEARS Mrs. Parbury, I really don't understand you. Parbury. I only meant to remind you that after all you do always get your own way. I'm really very glad, for I'm sure your way must always be the best way. Oh, the power and determination of this little hand ! \_Hul(Jin(j lier hand.'] Do let me, with the deepest submission, kiss "The Mailed Fist." [He kisses her hand. Mrs. Parbury. As it pleases you to be rude to me I shall try to bear it patiently. Parbury. I don't mean to be rude. It's my unfortunate way of putting things. I kissed your hand because of the real tender love my heart holds for you, and for the same reason I put back this dear, rebellious little lock of hair which has escaped from over your ear. And what a perfect ear ! It's as delicate and fragile as a shell, and it's just the daintiest pink possible. Mrs. Parbury. [Moll ifi I'd.] I know my ears are all right, though I think you are making fun of me. Parbury. I think I'm making love to you. Mrs. Parbury. [Siidileu/i/ laliithj one of his hands in hers.] Oh, if you only loved me in the way I love you ! THE TYRANNY OF TEARS 15 Parbury. I love you in a most excellent way. Mrs. Parbury. But it's different — you don't understand. I love to breathe the air you breathe, to hear your voice even when it's dictating a dry article, to listen to yoxir footsteps, to watch the changing expressions on your face. I live by the warmth your life gives me ; you don't grudge me that, do you ? Parbury. Why, of course not, darling ! Mrs. Parbury. I love this room because it is yours, the surround- ings are yours, the atmosphere is yours. When you are out Parbury. \_Gently patting her hand.] Which is not often, dear. Mrs. Parbury. When you are out I always stay here, because here I get most of you ; even the thin odour of cigarette smoke is dear to me. Smoke now. Parbury. Shall I ? Mrs. Parbury. [Gives him a cigarette from his case on table, and lights it.] That's delightful ! [Sniffs the smoke.] But only because it's you ! I used to detest tobacco. i6 THE TYRANNY OF TEARS Parbury. \SmiUnrJ^^ You dear ! \PuU his arm around her. Mrs. Parbury. You understand a little now, don't you t [Putting her head on his shoulder. Parbury. Perfectly ! Mrs. Parbury. [Risiwj.] And you are not angry any more 1 Parbury. Was I angry 1 [Rises. Mrs. Parbury. Horribly ! Parbury. I'm sorry. Mrs. Parbury. Not vexed about the article 1 Parbury. Bother the article. I knew it hadn't a million to one chance ! Mrs. Parbury. And it doesn't matter ? Parbury. Not in the least ! INIrs. Parbury. Then we may have tea in here ? THE TYRANNY OF TEARS 17 Parbury. Rather ! Let's go the pace. Mrs. Parbury. \Qoes to him, standing before him, her hands by her sides.^ Kiss me ! [He kisses her. She throws her arms round him and whispers to him. He whispers a word in reply. They hath laugh slightly, and he playfully pinches her cheek.'] Brute ! \_Slie smooths her hair and goes to door, L. ; turns at duor and bloivs him a Idss, to lohich he responds.] [Exit Mrs. Parbury, L. Parbury. [Standing for moment, C, a lohimsical look on his face.] Dear little woman ! What a pity she cries so much I [Puts chair up, R. ; goes to desk and turns over pages of magazine, still continuing his thought.] What a pity ! What a pity ! Enter Miss Woodward carrying loose type-un-itten MS. Parbury glances up from his magazine as she places the leaves on the desk. Oh, thanks ! Miss Woodward. Do you wish to finisli the article now t Parbury. Impossible ! Tea will be taken here in a few minutes, B i8 THE TYRANNY OF TEARS Miss Woodward. [With a touch of indignant surprise.] Here? . Oil, I beg your pardon ! Parbuey. Not at all ! I said here ! [Throios down magazine, goes up to jirep)laee, C. Miss Woodward permits a slight groan to escape her.] Eh ? Miss Woodward. Nothing, I didn't speak ! \Sits and bends over desk. [Pakbury looJis at her suddenty and Iceenly as though he had nerer noticed her before. Slight pause. She arranges papers at ilesk. He is leaning against the mantel- piere. Parbury. Do you know, Miss Woodward, I believe you are more disappointed about that article than I am. Miss Woodward. I was certainly very interested. Parbuuy. Why? jMiss Woodward. It was so strong ! I admire strength. Pahbury. [Smiling.] You are not then quite the machine THE TYRANNY OF TEARS 19 one gets into the habit of imagining one's secretary to be? Miss Woodward. \Meeting Ms eye calmly and fearlessly for a moment.] I should like to be what you wish me to be. Paebubt. [A little disconcerted. 1 Humph ! [Stands with his hands in his pockets looking at her, while she is busy at the desk.] [The dom\ L., suddenly opens. Parbuby starts almost violently. Mrs. Parbury puts her head into the room. Mrs. Parbury. Darling, I've got rid of a would-be intruder for you. I thought you'd like to know. Parbury. Thank you, dear ; who was it ? Mrs. Parbury. A horrid person named Gunning. There's the creature's card. [Throws card into room on to chair by door L.] I knew you'd be pleased, darling ! Tea in five minutes. [Exit Mrs. Parbury, closing door. Parbury. Gunning! Not George surely ? [Quickly gets the card.] It is ! My dear old friend ; I wouldn't miss seeing him for worlds ! [Rushes to loindow, opens it, and bends out.] Why, there he is, going across the 20 THE TYRANNY OF TEARS lawn ! \_SlxouU.'\ George ! George ! ! Hi ! Gun- ning ! ! ! \_Run:i off, R. Gunning. [Outside, very distant.'\ Hullo, Clement ! Parbuey. [Outside.^ Wait a moment, old chap ! [Miss Woodward goes up and looks through windoiv, comes doion, and with her hand- kerchief carpfuUij duats a j^hotograph of Parbury which stands on book-case up L.C., then looks at the portrait of Mrs. Parbury, which is (J. on wall over mantel, shnii/s her shoidders slightly, returns to desk. Efiter Parbury and Gunning, R., through windote. Parbury. [C., speaking as they enter.'] Quite a mistake ! I assure you, my dear fellow, my wife gave orders that I was not to be disturbed, thinking I was en- gaged upon an important piece of work. GUNNIXO. [Looking at Miss Woodward.] Won't you present me to Mrs. Parbury. [Hastily.] To Miss Woodward, my seci'etary — certainly ! Mr. Gunning, Miss Woodward. [Thei/ how. Miss Woodward vioves to go.] Don't go. Miss Woodward. [Crosses to top of table, R.C. Gunning THE TYRANNY OF TEARS 21 jJMfe Ms hat and gloves on chair, L.] You might very kindly get rid of some of this correspondence for me. [Talces a bundle of letters from desk.'] "Dear Sir, — I would esteem it a great favour if you would send me your photograph, together with your auto- graph." [Throios letter aside, and reads another.] " My dear Sir, — I have read with the deepest interest and the highest pleasure your deservedly successful novel, 'The Overthrow of Harvey Masterton,' and feel convinced that if you knew the story of my life " \ Repeats business.] No one can deal with these people like Miss Woodward. Gunning. [Taking off Ms gloves.] "What is your method, Miss "Woodward ? Miss "Woodward. It is Mr. Parbury's — perfect civility, consistent with finality. [Sits at desk and ivrites letters. Gunning. Excellent ! [Sits and addresses Parbuey.J I sup- pose being a popular author entails a lot of corre- spondence ? Parbdry. Awful ! Gunning. [L.C.] For my part, my correspondence is practi- cally nil. Parbuhy. I have noticed it with pain. 22 THE TYRANNY OF TEARS Gunning. Oh, I'd have written to you, but what was the good of it % I'm not literary, and I'm not married. Parbury. And so you've kept away for five years. Gunning. About that. \&iis on arm of sofa, L.C. Paebury. Five years and three months — for I've been mar- ried all that time, and you neither came to the wed- ding nor called on me afterwards. Gunning. I was discreet. Parbury. Discreet ! Damned unfriendly, I call it, con- sidering the years we had been pals. Gunning. Well, the rest of our old set stuck to you, any- way. What has become of them 1 Take Wybrow, for instance — an awful good chap ! Parbury. Wybrow, Wybrow — what 7ias become of Wybrow ? Gunning. Never comes here, eh ? THE TYRANNY OF TEARS 23 Parbury. Well, he did a few times some years ago, but Gunning. I understand — a little too Bohemian. Parbury. \QuicMy.'\ Not for me, George, I assure you. Gunning. No, no, of course not, my dear chap. Exit Bohe- mian Wybrow. Then there was Carson — one of the best"! Parbury. [Warmly.] Wasn't he a good fellow t Gunning, Capital ! Where is he ? Parbury. Married, you know. Gunning. So I heard. You meet constantly, of course ? Parbury. No, we met them at Brighton one winter some years ago, but I don't think our wives quite — you understand, don't you 1 Gunning. Yes, yes, I understand. You dropped the Carsons. But Burleigh 24 THE TYRANNY OF TEARS Parbury. Burleigh — ah ! [Lauglts. Gunning. There was a great spiiit if you like ; he was your best man. Parbury. Yes ; he gave me this watch. C4UNNING. Which you still wear. Touching constancy ! When did you see him last ? Parbury. Wait a moment. What is all this interrogation for? Gunning. Idle curiosity if you like — study of life if you like. Come, out with it, when did you last have dear old Tom Burleigh to dinner? Parbury. [Almost defianthj.] The day we returned fi-om our honeymoon. [Slightly awlacard pause. Gunning. [Mnsingljj.'l About five years and six weeks ago. Parbury. Of course, I see a lot of him at the Clubs. That is to say, I used to when I was still a Club man. Gunning. Which now you are not ? THE TYRANNY OF TEARS 25 Paredry. Which now I am not ! What does a man want with a Club when he has a home of his own 1 Gunning. Excellent sentiment; but neither the sentiment nor the words are your own, Clement. \Tlieir eyes meet and they burst into laughterJ] I know, I know ; " and what does a man want with men friends when he has a wife of his own," and "the husband's old friends are the wife's worst enemies," and " what I say about Clubs is, down with them ! " [Laufjhs, sits on sofa, L.C. Parburt. [^Suddenly serious.] What the devil are you laugh- ing at, George t You don't presume Gunning. I — why, of course not, my dear chap. Only now you see how wise I was not to intrude after your marriage, not to wait for my cong6 as the other poor boys did ! I knew something. Parbury. You always did, you brute ! I believe you were born knowing something. \_Leans on back of sofa. But seriously [lowers his voice], George, I assure you she's the best little woman in the world ! Gunning. Why, of course; it would be impious to suggest otherwise. [Exit Miss Woodward. 26 THE TYRANNY OF TEARS \His eyes follow her off.'\ A. perfect wife, and a charming secretary ! You're a lucky fellow, Clement ! Paebdhy. Is Miss Woodward charming? On my word, I hadn't noticed it, but I'm in love with my wife, you see. Gunning. Of course you would be the last to discover that your secretary was personally pleasing. Paebuby. You're a sinister scoundrel, George, and coarse to a fault. Now, tell me what you've been doing all these years — shedding your illusions apparently. Gunning. I've had none to lose since I grew up. I got rid of mine about the time of measles and whooping- cough. Parbury. It's a pity. Gunning. Not at all. < >ne can't attain the proper philoso- phical attitude towards life while one nourishes illusions ; one can never gain perspective. Parbury. Great man ! How beautifully you talk ! I sup- pose you have quite a nice thing in perspectives about with you now. Gunning. Pretty well. THE TYRANNY OF TEARS 27 Parbury. So much for the journey of the soul. What of the body ? Where have you been % Gunning. Round the world twice since I saw you. Paeburt. What did you see on the other side ? Gunning. Just what one sees on this side ; there is always a man — and a woman. Parbury. I know you were adventuring in Upper India last year, for the papers were full of a rather fine thing you did — saved a lot of miserable lives — an ordinary, manly, commonplace, heroic, English sort of thing. Gunning. Oh, don't mention that ; one was carried away by impulse. Parbury. And so we keep our impulses even when we lose our illusions ; I'm glad of that -anyway. \T'hen lie comes behind Gunning's chair, takes him by the shoul- der, and shakes him.] Old fool ! I can't help liking you as much as ever ! Gunning. [Looking up with genuine pleasure.] Really ? 28 THE TYRANNY OF TEARS Parbury. Honestly ! GUNXIXG. \Rises,puts his hands on Parbury's shoulders.] Well, I'm glad, because I've often been weak enough to regret not seeing you. As for your literary successes, I suppose I ought to congratulate you ; but I always knew you'd be a great man, because you never bored me. Parbury. [Drily.] Thanks so much. Now tell me how you found me. GUXXIXG. By means of the illustrated press — interview with Mr. Clement Parbury — copyright. The author of the "Overthrow of Harvey something" at his pretty retreat at Hampstead — copyright. Snapshot of Mr. Parbury at work — copyright. View of the study from the garden — view of the garden from the study — copyright. Parbury. Shut up ! You make me blush. GUXNING. Forgive me — it's only envy. It's the envious people who call this a vulgar age, I suppose. Enter Servant, L., plwes orra^ional table for tea in front of sofa, L.C., and exits J,. Parbury. Now you are to see my wife. How do you imagine her? Large, I suppose, with huge hands and feet and a beetling brow 1 THE TYRANNY OF TEARS 29 Gunning. I'm content to wait. Re-enter Servant, L., with tea service. Paebury. "When you have had tea, you will go away to dress. You will return here to dinner at eight. Gunning. I think not. Parbuby. One moment. You will probably meet only my wife's father. Colonel Armitage, and your dinner will be a fairly plain one, but I promise that your palate will not be outraged. Gunning. I really, think not, old man. I remember the fate of old Burleigh. And I never even gave you a watch. Parbury. George, you hurt me. [^Slight pause.] Then you refuse 1 Gunning. I make conditions. Parbury. What are they ? Gunning. That you come yachting with me from to-morrow till the end of the week. I've hired a charming little twenty-tonner, one after your own heart — that is, if your heart or my memory hasn't entirely changed. 30 THE TYRANNY OF TEARS Parbury. \_Entliusiastic.] Splendid ! There's nothing I should like so much ; and I've no special work on hand just now. GUXNIXG. Then it's agreed ! Parbury. Certainly ! GuxxixG. Good; we'll drink of the Cuv^e 36, brush up our swearing vocabulary, and I'll teach you to gain perspective ! Parbury. [His face suddenJij falling.^ Oh, the deuce! Gunning. What's the matter 1, What are you afraid of ? Parbury. Of nothing in the world ! Gunning. [Slapping Mm on the hack.] Hero ! Enter JMrs. Parbury, L., wearmg a bright smile, lohich fades when she sees Gunning. Parbury. Mabel, I want to present you to my dear old friend, George Gunning. My wife, George. [Gunning crosses to Mrs. Parbury. Shakes hands. THE TYRANNY OF TEARS 31 Mrs. Parbury. How do you do ? I'm very pleased. \_She gives Mm simultaneously a cold smile and a stiff handshake. Gunning. I'm very delighted to meet Clement's wife. Mrs. Parbury. You'll let me give you some tea 1 \_Goes to tea-table ; sits on sofa. Gunning. Thank you. [Aside to Parbury.] She's charming ! [Parbury digs him in the ribs. Gunning goes to tea-table. Parbury sits at desk. Mrs. Parbury. [Handing Gunning tea-cup.] I've given you no sugar. Gunning. I'll take one piece. [Does so. Enter Miss Woodward, R.I.E., with MS., which she hands to Parbury. Parbury. Thank you. [He reads and signs letters. Mrs. Parbury. Clement, come for your tea. 32 THE TYRANNY OF TEARS Parbury. In one moment, dear. Mrs. Parbuey. Miss Woodward, you will take tea ? Miss Woodward. Thank you, yes. Gunning. [To Mrs. Parbury.] Allow me. [Takes Miss Woodward's cup to her, and offers her bread and butter, S/c. Miss Woodward. Thank you. Parbury. You've often heard me speak of Gunning, Mabel ; we were at Cambridge together. Mrs. Parbury. Oh yes, I remember ! [To Gunning.] You were very great friends 1 GUXXING. Inseparables ! Parbury. I should say so ! Mrs. Parbury. [Uneasily.] Indeed ! Parbury. [Conies over and tal-es Iiis tea.] You see. Gunning had been my fag at Harrow, and my ill-treatment of THE TYRANNY OF TEARS 33 him inspired a dog-like devotion. \To Miss Wood- ward.] Let me take your cup. \A.dds in a loiver voice.~\ I've an idea ! [Miss Woodward goes to desk ; Parbuey follows her to desk."] Gunning. Let me. \_Assists Mes. Parbuey with the tea service. Parbuey. [To Miss Woodward in a low voice.] I think I can finish the article in three sentences. Take your notes into the other room ; I'll join you in a moment. [Miss Woodward gathers her notes and exits R.] Mrs. Parbuey. [Pouring out a fresh cup of tea for Gunning.] But of course it's not in the nature of things that college friendships, however strong, can last always. Time estranges, doesn't it, Mr. Gunning, and fate drives people into different — well, different ways of life, doesn't it ? Some men marry soon. Are you married, Mr. Gunning? Gunning, Alas, no, Mrs. Parbury ! Parbuey, He has too much respect for your sex, dear. For- give me for three minutes. [Exit Paebury, R. Mrs. Parbuey. Not married ? Well, I should have thought Gunning. That I'm old enough to know better. I admit it. [Sits KG. c 34 THE TYRANNY OF TEARS Mrs. Parbury. Well, I was going to say that in marriage a man changes so much. He becomes more — more- GUNXING. \Genihj.^ Respectable ? Mrs. Paebury. Well, I -wasn't going to say quite that ; though, as you suggest it, no doubt it is true. I was going to say more responsible. He enters into a broader, a fuller life ; he gains in nobility, don't you think ? Gunning. \_Avvi>iril?\ Ob, no doubt. Clement has improved enormously ! Mrs. Paebury. I'm so glad you recognise that. You may smoke, Mr. Gunning, if you care to. Gunning. Thank you. I'll steal one of Clement's cigarettes if I may? \Tal;es cigarette from box on ilesk. Mrs. Parbury. Of course Clement was always good and strong and clever. It only wanted marriage to — to Gunning. To perfect him ] Mrs. Parbury. Well, I was going to say to complete him ; but it comes to the same thing, doesn't it? Gunning. (,)uite, quite ! THE TYRANNY OF TEARS 35 Mrs. Paebuey. I found my happiness wlien I married Clement. Gunning. You had been looking for it % Mrs. Parbury. Of course ; isn't that every woman's duty ? Gunning. Yes, yes ; and every man's ? Mrs. Parbury. [Less conjidentl//.] "Well, yes, I should think so. Gunning. And one's happiness once found is worth fighting for-! Mrs. Parbury. [Firmly.] Worth fighting very hard for ! Gunning. [Drily.] Of course. [4«jde.] Poor Burleigh ! [Lights cigarette. Mrs. Parbury. You, I suppose, have never met a woman who could make you happy 1 Gunning. I have never met a woman whom I was sure of being able to make happy. Mrs. Parbury. [Slightly embarrassed.] Oh ! 36 THE TYRANNY OF TEARS Gunning. And, anyway, the state of marriage has always appeared to me to be a state of warfare. Mrs. Parbuby. Mr. Gunning, you little know Gunning. I admit the case of you and Clement to be an exceptional one. I'm talking of ordinary cases — the average marriage; there you will find, according to my observation, an endless war — a war of self-interests, a war of opposing emotions, a war of irreconcilable nervous organisations Mrs. Parbury. Oh, Jlr. Gunning ! Gunning. Viewed from the hill-tops rather a pitiful sort of war, in which can be won neither the full joys of love nor the complete glories of battle. Mrs. Pakbury. Oh, Mr. Gunning! GUNXING. I remain single, Mrs. Parbury, quite without happiness — except in the reflection that I am neither an oppressor exercising a daily tyranny, nor a slave rightly struggling to be free. Mrs. Parbury. Of course I don't in the least agree with you. \_The telephone hell rings.'] [i?mnr/.] There's some one THE TYRANNY OF TEARS 37 on the telephone — forgive me. \Ooes to telephone box and puts the oommunicator to her ear.^ Are you there 1 — yes — who are youl — the article — yes — no, you can't have it to-day — no, it hasn't a million to one chance of being finished. [To Gunning, iviih a smile.'] That's Clement's slang, not mine. [Again into tele- phone.'] "What ? Enter Parbuhy and Miss Woodward, R. I say it hasn't a million to one chance of being finished. Parbury. What? Who is it? Mrs. Parbury. It's the Saturday Sentinel. Parbury. But, my dear, the article is finished. [Rushes to telephone.] [Miss Woodward and Gunning are laugh- ing secretly. Mrs. Parbury stands 0., rather confused]. At telephone.] Hullo ! Hullo ! Are you there? Rings violently^ Hullo — oh ! is that you, Jackson ? . . . what's the matter? [Rather a long pause. He smiles while listening.] No, no, not at all, my dear chap. What was said was, ' It's a million to one you'll have the copy in half-an-hour ' — eh? — yes, those were the very words . . . no, quite a mistake, you don't listen properly. A messenger has just gone off in a cab with it. What ? Yes. [Laughs.] All right ! Good-bye ! Mrs. Parbury. [Seeing Miss Woodward laughing.] I really don't know what there is to laugh at, Miss Woodward. 38 THE TYRANNY OF TEARS Miss Woodward. I was only smiling at the messenger in the cab. \FoldR MS. and puts it in envelope. Pahbuuy. Yes, send some one at once, please, Miss Woodward. [^Exii IMis.s Woodward, R.Y.E. ]\Irs. Parbury. It wosn't my fault, dear. You know you did use those words. Parbury. My fault entirely. [_Asiile to Gunning.] Have you told her '? Gunning. ^^•hat 1 Parbury. About the yachting ? Gunning. Why, of course not. That's your affair, my dear fellow. Parbury. [///'f.' hand on Gunning's sliouhler.] ^Nlabel, dear, we're going yachting for a few days. I think I want a little change. Mrs. Parbury. [C'liiiiinij totcards them, hi'ii/lith/.] Oh, what a good idea ! When do we go? [Parbury a?id Gunning look at varh oilier.] Are you coming, ^Ir. Gunning? [Paubvry presses Gunning /or/rcnvi. Gun- ning looks round at Parbury reproach- fidly. Parbury goes up staije. THE TYRANNY OF TEARS 39 Gunning. {Em'barrassed?^ Well, it's my yacht, Mrs. Parbury, but she's very small — only a little tub of a thing ; and — \LoolcB at Ids watch.'\ By Jove ! I'll never be able to dress and get back for dinner if I don't hurry. [Gets his hat and gloves, L. Gons up quic7dy.~\ I need only say au revoir ; don't trouble, Clement, I'll find my way out — au revoir I \Exit Gunning, L. [Mrs. Parbury, who is puzzled, sits on sofa. Parbury. [Calling after Gunnixg.] Dinner at eight, re- member. Gunning. [Outside.'] All right ! Parbury. [Shuts the door.] Capital fellow, George Gunning ! _^Comes to back of sofa. Mrs. Parbury. What does he mean by a little tub of a thing? Surely we're not Parbury. No, dear, certainly not. You're quite right. I wouldn't think of letting you run any risks. Mrs. Parbury. Then we're not going ? Parbury. No, dear; that is to say. Gunning and I are going. 40 THE TYRANNY OF TEARS Mrs. Pabbury. [Rising, agliast.] Without me 1 Parbury. Only for a few days, of course. [Laur/hinr/ feMtj. Mrs. Parbuhy. You are not serious ? Parbury. Quite ! \His laugh heconies feebler. j\[rs. Parbury. But — but you never go away without me ! Parbury. I haven't hitherto, but Mrs. Parbury. ^Vell ? [Appears about to cry. Parbury. I've been working ver\' hard, you know, lately. I feel I want a change. Mrs. Parbury. [TearfiiJli/.] It doesn't occur to you that I might want a change. Parbury. Well, have one, dear. Aunt Martha would be delighted to h.ave you at Oaklands. Mrs. Parbury. I don't want to go to Aunt ^lartha. How would you like to go to Aunt Martha ? THE TYRANNY OF TEARS 41 Pahbuey. [Suppressing a groan.] What is it you do want ? Mrs. Paebury. [Quickly.] You ! I want to be with you ! It's very simple — it's not asking very much; If you don't like my being with you, why did you marry me ? [TaMng out her handkerchief. Parbury. Now, dear, please don't cry ! [Aside.] If she does, I'm done for ! [4foz«c?.] It's only common sense that you can't go knocking about with a couple of men in a tub of a boat. Mrs. Parbury. Of course I quite know now that you don't love me. [Bursts into tears. Sits on sofa. Parbury. [With real irritation.] Oh, damn it ! [Goes up, but turns quickly and comes down to her.] 'Pon my soul, you make me almost hate Mrs. Parbury. Of course you hate me. Your old friend has done that for me. You are breaking my heart ! Parbury. [Who has recovered control of his temper and re- sumed his natural hantering tone.] Not at all, dear. [Sits at his desk and affects to be busy.] I was only going to say that I hated — now, what the deuce was it I hated ? — oh, I know — to see a woman cry. I do think a woman is wise who does her crying in private, 42 THE TYRANNY OF TEARS and yet — I wonder — they know best — millions to one they know best. I must write something about it. Mrs. Parbury. [^Rises, goes to top of table, R. She is wiping her eyes, her back to him.] Of course, you're going all the same 1 Parbury. [Affecti7ig great pre-occupation.'] GJoing? Going where ? Mrs. Parbury. With Mr. Crunnini;. \_Pan>iP. She rnntiuiiex to cry gently. Parbury. Gunning — Gunning! — who's Gunning? Oh — George — yachting, you mean ! Not I ! I'm staying here. Mrs. Parbury. \Comes to'wariJs him gladly, her arms extended.] Clement ! Parbury. Eh 1 Oh, forgive me for a few minutes. \^Writes. Mrs. Parbury. [^Reproaclifully.] I was only going to kiss you. Parbury. [Writing.] All right, dear — presently — presentl}', there's a dear girl ! [Mrs. Parbury has a sloiu silent exit, lookinij back at him.] \^He doesn't look up, but goes on ui-iting. When the door doses, he puts doirn h i.-; pen.] Oh, the tyranny of it ! The tyranny of it ! [Slow Curtain. EXD OF ACT T. ACT II Scene. — Tlie same as Act I. Evening after dinner the same day. The room is lighted with lamps, but as it is a still loarm evening, the curtains are not drawn ove7' the glass dom' which leads into the garden and is open. \_Enter Evans, L. He places cigars and cigar- ettes on occasional table, and lights a small spirit cigar-lamp. [Exit.] Voices of ladies and a ripple of laughter heard from the draiuing-room, and for a moment the sound vtade by fingers running lightly and irre- sponsibly over the keys of the piano. Enter Colonel Aemitage, followed by Gunning and Parbuey. Aemitage goes to mantel- piece. Gunning selects the easiest chair in the room. Parbury goes to occasioned table. Aemitage is a well-preserved man of si.rf y-five, very carefully dressed — some- thing of an elderly dandy. Parbuey. Cigarette or cigar, George ? Gunning. Thanks, I have a cigarette. \TaJies one from his case and lights it. Parbuey. Colonel ? 44 THE TYRANNY OF TEARS Colonel. Thank you, I'll take a cigar. I think, however, I'll — er — smoke it in the garden. Mabel's limited appreciation of tobacco ■ Paebuey. Oh, Mabel won't mind — she'.s quite educated. C'OLOXEL. Not beyond the cigarette, I fancy. \He strolls io the {/lass floor, liglds his ciijar, and steps out. For a few moments he is still seen, then lie mirnlers an-aij. Gunning. Nice old chap, your father-in-law. Paebuey. Isn't he ? I'm quite fond of him. \Pause. They smo/(e in silence, Paebuby^ standing at mantelpiece. ^ What are you thinking of 1 Gunning. I'm not thinking. I'm digesting. I had an ex- cellent dinner. Enter Evans unth coffee, ^'c. Gunning tal>es coff'ee. Evans. Cognac, sir, or green chartreuse 1 Gunning. Cognac. [He taJres glass.] Thank you. THE TYRANNY OF TEARS 45 Pabbury. Colonel, here's your coffee. Colonel. \Oid&ide?[ I'll have it out here, if I may. [Paeburt takes Ms coffee and liqueur. Parbuey. Serve Colonel Armitage's coffee in the garden. Evans. Yes, sir. [^Exit Evans, L. Gunning. I've wired for the champagne. Parbury. [Uneasily.] Oh, yes ! [Slight pause. Gunning. I notice the glass keeps up well. Parbuey. Really? Good! [Slight pause. Gunning. Yes, we ought to have capital weather. Parbury. Capital ! [He is very embarrassed.'] If it doesn't rain it'll be pretty — er — fine. [jyrinks. Puts his cup on mantelpiece. GUN.SING. [Favours him 'with a sloio siai'e.] What's the matter, old man? 46 THE TYRANNY OF TEARS Pakbury. Nothing in the world. Why? Gunning. Oh, it doesn't matter. But I think the change will do you good. \_Slii]ht pauae.^^ By the way, would to-morrow afternoon suit you for a start ? Pahbury. [Stamliixj until Ids hack io the fireplace, loolciuij up at tlie celliitij.'\ I'm not going, old man. Cunning. [Iiiilifferentlij.] Oh ! Re-enter Evans, E., from (jardeii, anil exit L. Silence till Ice has gone. I'AIiBURY. Well, you don't seem surprised. Gunning. [Ejl'ectinij a yaivn.] I never permit myself to be surprised. Parbury. Or disappointed. (_iUNNTNG. Oh yes, I own I'm disappointed. I looked for a good time for a few days. You were the only one of the old lot available, and you were the best of them. I can't bear the new lot. They wear strange colours, drop their •' g's," and get on one's nerves. THE TYRANNY OF TEARS 47 Parbuey. I'm really sorry, George. Gunning. Don't bother. One simply goes alone. [Disnre^??/.] The calls of business are often irresistible. Parbury. Don't rot. You know what the situation is. Gunning. Mine is one of those poor intelligences that never know without information. Paebury. I'll supply it. \&its on arm of chair, R.O. Gunning. Don't, if it matters. Parbury. I will, though it does matter. \_Griinly.^ My wife wept. Gunning. Unanswerable argument. Parbury. Quite. George, what the devil is a man to do ? Gunning. I knew a man who once interfered between a hus- band and wife who were disagreeing. The husband and wife each got a black eye. The man got two. 48 THE TYRANNY OF TEARS Parbury. You might at least talk. Gunning. Oh, certainly. Parbury. You know the situation. (!IUNNIXG. Well, if one dare say so, I fancy you are sufiEering from the tyranny of a fascinating egoism. Parbury. I'm suffering from the tyranny of tears. GUNNIXO. What I can't understand is how a man of your strong nature arrived where you are. Parbury. I'll make an effort to tell you. To begin with, I suppose I'm fairly good-natured. Gunning. Oh yes ! Parbury. Or say, if you like, of indolent habit, which after all often passes for the same thing. Then of course I was in love — I am still. One drifted. It's so easy to give way in little things — really not unpleasant when you're in love. And then there's one's work, which fills the mind and makes the little things appear smaller than they are. I say one drifted. THE TYRANNY OF TEARS 49 Gunning. Sometimes, if I know you, you rebelled. What then? Paebuht. [Promptly i] Tears ! And over such absurdly paltry things ! Oh, the farcical tragedy of it all ! I wished to go shooting for a few days. Tears ! I fancied dining and spending the evening with an old chum. Tears ! I would go on a walking tour for a week. Tears ! Some one would ask me for three days' hunting. Tears ! Tears, you understand, always on hand. Tears — tears — tears ad [Pulling him- self up. '\ No. Gunning. [Quietly.] No — not ad nauseam. Pabbury. No, that would be too low a thing to say. [Goes up R.C. Takes stopp&r out of the decanter. Gunning. Do you know, Clement, I really like you tremen- dously. Paebury. Thanks, old man. Have some more brandy ? Gunning. No thanks. [Pause.] Don't stop. I'm interested. Paebury. That's all. I drifted, almost unconsciously, right up to to-day, for all the world like the man in the 50 THE TYRANNY OF TEARS moral story-book one read as a child on Sundays, who drifted in his boat on the Erie River towards Niagara. To-night I'm conscious — I'm awake — I can feel the water gliding along the boat's keel. I can see Niagara. I don't like it. What the devil's one to do'! Gunning. Get out and walk. \Pau»e. They smoke. Parburt. Of course, I shall change it all. I must, but it will be beastly work. Gunning. Beastly. When do you begin ? Parbuey. When occasion serves. I can't go back over this yachting business. I've said I'm not going. Gunning. Quite right. [SUghf pawe. Parbury. Oh, if the e.ciijeant women only knew — if they only knew ! JiJnfer Colonel Armitage, R. Talking of brandies, this is Hennessy '63. Have some, Colonel ? Colonel. Perhaps half a glass. [Takes brandy and sits. THE TYRANNY OF TEARS 51 Enter Mrs. Parbury, L., from drawing-room. Mrs. Parbury. Miss Woodward and I are boring each other. Shall we come to you, or will you come to us ? [Gqnning and Armitage rise.~\ There, the question's answered. [(SiVs on sofa, L. Enter Miss Woodward, L. She goes to the desk. Gunning. [To Mrs. Parbury.] You were playing the piano just now ? Mrs. Parbury. Yes, but I play wretchedly nowadays. I gave up practising when we married. Gunning. One should never give up an accomplishment. Colonel. You used to play charmingly, Mabel. Mas. Parbury. You thought so, dear, and that was enough for me. [She rises and crosses to C] Why don't we sit in the garden 1 It's a perfect night. [Colonel strolls off to garden.] [Mrs. Parbury goes to Parbury, loho is standing by fireplace, and taJres his arm. In a loiv voice.] Are you still angry ? Parbury. [As they go out to the garden.] I angry with you ! 52 THE TYRANNY OF TEARS Nonsense. [He pats her handJ] Poor little woman ! Poor little woman I [Exit jMh. and Mrs. Parbury. Gunning. [Grossing to R.C. top of the table.'] Are you not coming, Miss Woodward ? Miss Woodward. No, thank you. I have some work to do. Gunning. But you seem to me to be always working. Miss Woodwakd. I needn't, you know. I do it because I like it. Gunning. What are you doing now ? Miss Woodward. Correcting proof sheets of a new novel. It will save Mr. Parbury the trouble of doing it to-morrow. Gunning, I wanted you to talk to me. Miss Woodward. What about 1 GUXNIXG. Yourself. Miss Woodward. I'm not interesting. Gunning. On the contrary. THE TYRANNY OF TEARS 53 Miss Woodward. What do you wish to know ? Gunning. All about 3'ou. May 1 1 Miss Woodward. Will you go away and leave me to work if T tell you? Gunning. Yes. [Gomes down by chair R.C. Miss Woodward. [Putting down her pen, and resting her cheek on her hand.'\ I'm the thirteenth daughter of a parson. Why my parents had thirteen daughters, I don't know ; but I suppose it was because they are veiy poor. We were all given the names of flowers — Rose, Lily, Tulip, Mignonette — I can't remember them all — but Hyacinth fell to my lot. Why we were called after flowers, I don't know ; but I suppose it was because we are none of us the least like flowers. My eldest sister married my father's curate. I don't know why, but I suppose it was because she came first and is the plainest in the family. Gunning. [Laughing.^ Yes, well 1 Miss Woodward. [Spealcing in an even, emotionless way.] Two other of my sisters run a Kindergarten, and one other is a governess. Personally I would rather be a domestic 54 THE TYRANNY OF TEARS servant. The others remain at home, help in the house, and await husbands. I fear they will wait in vain, because there are so many women in our part of the country and so few men. For my part I seized an early opportunity of learning shorthand and typewriting — and — well, here I am. Now you know the story of my life. [iS'/cy returns to her irorlc. Gdxxing. I'm afraid it was deuced impertinent of me to ask. Miss Woodward. Xot at all — only eminently man-like. [Pause. She tcorlcs, he smokes. GuxxixG. And so you have found your happiness. Miss Woodward. Oh no. I've only just started to look for it. GuxxixG. Oh ho ! Ambitious ! Miss Woodward. Very. Have you ever been poor ? GuxxixG. Yes, at one time — had to pawn things. r\Iiss Woodward. I mean being one of fifteen in family — large inferior Joints to last for days — hot, cold, hashed, minced, shepherd's pie — [Guxxixg shiuhlers at this] — THE TYRANNY OF TEARS 55 too much potatoes — too much boiled rice — too much bread and dripping — too much weak tea— too much polishing up of things not worth polishing up — too much darning on too little material — and for ever giving thanks out of all proportion to the benefits received. I wish some one would write the history of a hat or a frock — I mean a hat or a frock that has marched steadily and sullenly under various guises through an entire family such as ours, from the mother down to the youngest girl. What might be wriy^en of the thoughts that had been thought under such a hat, or of the hearts that had felt under such a frock ! Gunning. Why don't you write the story ? Miss Woodward. Perhaps some day I shall try. \Iteturns to her work.] In the meantime you ought to go. You promised, you know. You have nothing more to learn. I don't think in all my life I've talked so much about myself as I have to you, a stranger. [She keeps her eyes on her work. Gunning. You have been engagingly frank. I do hope I shall have another opportunity Miss Woodwaed. Not at all likely, Mr. Gunning. \Paus,e.\ Good- night. \8till without looking ii-pi] [Gunning loolts at her, goes up to the loindoio, turns, looks at her again. 56 THE TYRANNY OF TEARS Gunning. \^At icindoic] Good-night, IMiss AA'oodward. [Krif to garden, R. [Miss Woodward goes on with her irork for a fell- momenta, then ihvpA her face OH Iter hand in her farourite attitude. Miss Woodward. [Sotiloquim'ng.] Kather than go back, I — well, I know I'd rather die. [She loohs over tJie loa/ies for a moment or tiro, iJten i/airnti dightty , she gatJiers her pages together and plare,f a iiaperii-i'iglit over them.'] That will have to do. [She I'ises, loohA ryfR.] There was actually a man ready to take a sort of languid interest in me. Quite a new experience. [Slie taJtes up Parbury's p)hotograph and spealis to it.'\ You don't take an interest in me of any kind, do you 1 [To the photograph.] You never will, and I don't think I want you to. But I do want to stay near you, because you are so strong — Enter Mrs. Parbury /ro»? garden carrying the Colonel's coffee cup and saucer. — and so weak, and so kind, and so foolish. [Mrs. Parbdry Jias come doirn and is nxdcliing her unohxerred. Miss Wood- ward stoirly raises the photograph to her lips. T/ie cup and saucer drop from ISIrs. Parbury's hand to the floor and are hrohen. Miss Woodward, much startled, slon:ly turns toirards Mrs. Par- bury, and. their eyes meet. T/iere is a pause. Suddenly, n-ith a quich move- ment, Mrs. VkRBVBn snatches the photo- graph from Miss Woodward. THE TYRANNY OF TEARS 57 Mes. Parburt. How dare you ! How dare you ! \Lonij 'pause. She is ahnost hreatMess. Then she partly regains self-control.'\ What train do you intend taking ? Miss Woodward. [R.O.] I don't understand you. Mrs. Parbury. I mean for your home, of course. Miss Woodward. [Afoves as if she had received a Mow, and clasps her hands together.~\ I am not going home. Mrs. Parbury. Oh, indeed you are. You don't suppose you can stay here, do you ? Miss Woodward. Why shouldn't 1 1 Mrs. Parbury. How dare you ask that when I have just caught you in the act of kissing my husband's photograph ? Miss Woodward. That was in a moment of abstraction. I wasn't even thinking of Mr. Parbury. Mrs. Parbury. Oh ! And you are the daughter of a clergyman ! [She goes up and fetches the A. B.C. from booTccase, and offers it to Miss Woodward.] Here is the A.B.C. 58 THE TYRANNY OF TEARS Miss Woodward. \Tmiiinri ainui.\ I have no use for it just now, thank you. Mrs. Parbury. Then I'll look you out an early morning train myself. [SaVs L.] Let me see — \turnvmj orer leaves] — Carfields, Worcestershire, isn't it? Here it is. 7.20. I suppose that's too early. 9.35 ; that will do. Please understand you are to take the 9.35 from Paddington in the morning. Miss Woodward. [^Firmly.] I shall do nothing of the kind. Mrs. Parburv. \_Iijnorinri the remarJi.] In the meanwhile there is no necessity that my husband should know the reason of your going. You can make some excuse. I wouldn't have him know for worlds. Miss Woodward. Of course he shall never know from me — but I want you to quite understand, Mrs. Parbury, that I am not going to Oarfields to-morrow. Rather than go home under the circumstances I would starve in the gutter. Mrs. Parbury. Well, you must find a lodging till you get other employment. You will have a month's salary, of course. Anyway, I'm determined you leave this house in the morning. [Goea up C. Ftit!< A. B.C. on chair up L.C. THE TYRANNY OF TEARS 59 Miss Woodward. Is there any real occasion for my leaving % Mas. Parbury. Haven't you suificient delicacy of feeling left to teach you that ? Miss Woodward. [ Warmly.] I don't think I need lessons of delicacy of feeling from you. [Slight pause.] I'm sorry I said that, and it means a great deal for me to say I'm sorry. I'm sorry too about the photograph. I think it all might be forgotten. Mrs. Parbury. Forgotten ! Miss Woodward. After all, I'm only a girl ; and I've worked very hard for Mr. Parbury. I think you might be more lenient. Mrs. Parbury. \_At fireplace.] I'm very sorry for you. Miss Wood- ward ; but I owe a duty to myself and to my hus- band. You must go in the morning. [She moves to return to garden. Miss Woodward. [Grosses to L.C.] Mrs. Parbury ! Mrs. Parbury. Weill Miss Woodward. I suppose I ought to be a lady and go, because you, the mistress of the house, wish me to. But I 6o THE TYRANNY OF TEARS don't feel a bit like a lady just now. I only feel like a poor girl whose chances in life are being ruined for a very small and innocent folly. Mrs. Paebury. "Well, what does all this mean ? Miss Woodwaed. [Fiercely. '\ It means that I am in Mr. Parbury's employment, not yours, and that I will take my dis- missal from him only. Mes. Parburt. Oh, I can promise you that. \Slie calls into the garden?^ Clement ! \Ej-it Mrs. Parbury to garden, K. [Miss Woodward tlirotos a hard hole after her. Then her eyes fall on the broken oi.p and saucer. She nfoops, collects the fraginents, and puts tliem in waste-pctper haxhet. Then she goes to ded; sits and worhs on proof sheets as before. Enter Mr. cmd Mrs. Parbury, R. Parburt. Working again, Miss Woodward ! Really, you are indefatigable ! Miss Woodward. I'm only correcting these proof sheets. Mes. Parbury. No doubt Miss Woodward wishes to finish the work to-night, as she is leaving to-morrow. THE TYRANNY OF TEARS 6i Pabbury. Leaving to-morrow ? Miss Woodward. I think Mrs. Parbury is mistaken. Paebuey. \To Mrs. Paebury.] What do you mean, dear? Mrs. Paebuey. I wish her to go. Paubury. Why? Mes. Paebuey. I can't tell you. It is not a thing you would understand. It is simply impossible for her to re- main. In her heart she knows I am right. [Slight pause. Parbury goes to Miss Woodwaed. Paebuey. Are you satisfied here ? Miss Woodward. Perfectly. Parbury. You have no wish to go away ? Miss Woodward. Not while you wish me to remain. Parbury. Do you know why my wife wishes you to go ? 62 THE TYRANNY OF TEARS Miss ^^^ooDWARD. Yes. Parbury. Will you kindly tell me ? Mis,s Woodward. I'm sorry I can't. I've promised. But — [kiYA a look at Mrs. Parbury] — I don't think that Mrs. Parbury's reasons are adequate. [Pa?,(xf. Parbury is tlwiujhtful. Parbury. [To Mrs. Parbury. ] Have you anything more to say ? Mrs. Parbury. I have only to repeat that it is quite impossible for Miss Woodward to stay. Parbury. Well, I have made up my mind that there is something very foolish under all this, and I shall not allow it to deprive me of Miss Woodward's ser- vices. [Mrs. Parbury looks ,iij from his leaniiuj attitude against table up stage, puttiiig down the TjooTi, and ruming down two stiqis.] You foolish little woman. You know this is impossible. Be reasonable. Mrs. Parbury. \_FiriiiJ ij.] Which is it to be ? THE TYRANNY QF TEARS 69 Parbury. [With a gesture conveys that the subject is closed a7icl returns to his former attitude.~\ I think I have a right to ask what you propose doing. Mrs. Parbury. I propose going home with my father. [The laugh of the Colonel is heard in the garden. Then he ajipears at the entrance, still laughing. Gunnixq cqipears behind him. The Colonel enters. Gunning remains at the window smoking. Colonel. [To Parbury.] That's really the funniest thing I've heard for years. Have you heard that story, Clement 1 Parbury. What story ? Colonel. Story of — [Then he sees Mrs. Parbury.] Oh, quite a drawing-room story, believe me, dear. Mrs. Parbury. Father, I wish to speak to you. Colonel. Certainly, dear. "What is it? [Crosses to sofa, L. Sits. Parbury ex- changes a look with Gunning. Gunning. [Coming down quickly.] Mrs. Parbury, I must re- 70 THE TYRANNY OF TEARS luctantly say good-night. Your charming house is almost in the country, and I've to get back to London. I thank you for Mks. Parbury. \^Intri-rnpHnij.\ Please don't go, Mr. Gunning. It's quite early, and Clement and you, as such cer]] old friends, must still have a great deal to talk about. Parbury. [7'«/iv«;/ Guxxing's CO')//.] No, George, you really mustn't go. [Z/'rt(/x hhii vp to iriinJivc, E. GUNXIXG. I assure you, my dear ohap- ■ Parbury. [IiiteiTUjtfirii/.] But I make it a personal favour. Dear student of life, stay and observe. [Tliei/ remain vp at irihdoir. Mrs. Paiibury. Dear father, I wish you to take me home with you to-night. (-'OLOXEL. \^Sui2iii/■ a moment, then drairs herself iipj] Come, father. Colonel. Good-night, Mr. Gunning. Good-night, Clement. Parbury and Gu.nxixg. Good-night, Colonel. [Kivunf Mrs. Parbury and tJie Coloxel. Parbury. [Comes doicn, a little astonished.'] By Jove, she's really going ! [Gunning sits. Parbury stands C, listen- in/j. Pause. Then llierr is the noise of a rarriai/e door heimj shut. Evans. [O^itside.] Home ! [Parbury snnien-hal unsfeadil;/ lights a riijarette. He then ratrhes Gunning's ei/e. They look at earlt other. Stun- Curtain. END OP ACT II. ACT III Scene. — The Rose Garden at Parbury's house. A garden table, seat, and chaws. The next morning. [Enter Miss Woodward. She is dressed simply, but less severely than before. Her hair is dressed more loosely. She carries a little basket full of roses. She places some roses upon the table, lohich is laidfm- two for break- fast. She plucJis more roses and fastens them in her dress. Meanwhile she hums an air and conveys the ivi/iression of being happier than in the previous Acts.] \_Enter Gunning, R. He wears a light morning suit, a round hat a?id brown boots, and carries a stick and gloves.] Gunning. Good-morning, Miss Woodward. Miss Woodward. Good- morning. [They shake hands. Gunning. Shall I resist the temptation to pay you a compli- ment ? Miss Woodward. [Gathering more roses.] Yes, please. 77 78 THE TYRANNY OF TEARS Gunning. I thought you would say so. All the same, I feel it to be a deprivation. Miss Woodward. Isn't that remark itself the cloven foot of compli- ment ? Gunning. Eh — well, perhaps it is. I'm sorry. Miss Woodward. And therefore unlike you. Gunning. Unlike me ? What does that mean ? Miss Woodward. That it isn't much in your way to pay women compliments. Gunning. I hope you are doing me an injustice. Miss Woodward. I don't think so. You haven't a very lofty opinion of women as a sex, have you ? Gunning. Pretty well — pretty well ; but what makes you think so ? Miss Woodward. I heard you talk, you know, yesterday afternoon. THE TYRANNY OF TEARS 79 Gunning. Oh yes ; one does talk a lot of rot sometimes, doesn't one % Miss Woodward. Yes. \_EmhaTrasBed pause. Gunning. Is Mr. Parbury down yet ? Miss Woodwaed. No. But he is sure to be in a few minutes. He is generally early. Breakfast, as you see, will be served here. Perhaps — perhaps you would rather wait indoors. Gunning. No ; I'll stay here if I may. . . . I'm afraid we made rather a late night of it. [He sits. Miss Woodward. Really % Gunning. Three o'clock. Miss Woodward. You had much to talk of. I envy people with pleasant memories. Gunning. I don't remember that we talked much of old times. I think we talked of the present. Miss Woodward. [Rather hardly.] Then my envy has flown. 8o THE TYRANNY OF TEARS Gunning. You are right. This afEair is rather boring. Miss Woodward. \Innocently.\ What affair, Mr. Gunning ? Gunning. Miss Woodward, you are a triumph of the in- scrutable. Miss "Woodward. \Leaninij on chair, L.C.] I'm sure that is very clever, because I can't quite understand it. Gunning. Quite seriously. Miss Woodward, you interest me more than any person I have ever met. Miss Woodward. Do you always say that to girls, Mr. Gunning ? Gunning. No. Why ? Miss ~\^^ooDWAED. You ought to. I'm sure it's very encouraging. [She pirl;s another rose. Gunning. [Douhf/iilly.] Ahem ! Miss Woodward. Are you quite sure you wouldn't rather wait indoors ? Gunning. Oh, quite. I like being here. THE TYRANNY OF TEARS 8i Miss Woodwaed. But I'm sure you find it diiScult getting down to one's level. I often think that the very wise must be very lonely. GUMNING. \B.ising.\ What an extremely unpleasant remark ! Miss Woodward. I'm sorry. \She sirj}ii.'\ We don't seem to get on very well, do we ? Gunning. \With sincerity and coming close to her.\ I'd like to get on well with you. [Pause. They look in eacli other's faces, both at table. Gunning. Will you give me a rose 1 Miss Woodward. No, Mr. Gunning. Parburt. [Outside.] Are you there, George? [Miss Woodward gets letters from table. Gunning. Yes. Parbury. [Otdside, to Evans.] Serve breakfast. Enter Paebury, L. Good-morning. I hope I haven't kept you waiting. Oh, you are here. Miss Woodward. Good-morning. F 82 THE TYRANNY OF TEARS \_L(juh-!i at the table.] And you have managed to find us some roses. How very kind of you ! [Miss Wood- ward gives him letters. He runs them over.] No, no, no, no I "Will you kindly see what they're all about 1 [_S]ie is about to go.] Oh, not now — after breakfast will do. Miss Woodward. I have breakfasted, thank you. Parbury. Really ! I suppose I'm horribly late. [Looks at his toatch. Then, noticing the roses she carries in her hanil.] How very beautiful they are ! Look, George ! [She selects one and hands it to him.] For me ? Thank you. [He fastens it in his buttonhole.] [K.cit Miss Woodward, L. [To GuNNixu.J Lovely, isn't it? GUXXING. [Gruffly.] Yes, it's all right. Parbury. What's the matter ? Cross? GUXNING. Not at all. But, really, you married men are very tiresome. Parbury. Oh, I see — wanted a rose yourself. Shall I call Miss Woodward back and ask for you ? Gunning. Don't trouble. I've done that myself. Parbury. You have ? Ha, ha ! [Begiiis to laugh, but stops THE TYRANNY OF TEARS 83 suddenly.^ Oh ! [Holding his head^ Dear, dear, what a head I have ! Gunning. You haven't asked after my head. Paebury. [Sits at table.] Your pardon. How is it? Gunning. [Sits at table.] I'd like to sell it this morning. Do you know, Clement, I'm not quite certain about that whisky of yours. Paebury. I am. It's fifteen years old. Enter Evans, L., with breakfast-tray. But you always had a way of mixing your drinks over-night and growling in the morning. Gunning. [Draioing up Ms cliair.] Put it at that, if you like. I do know that I always had a way of disliking you particularly in the morning. I regret I don't appear to have grown out of it. Paebury. I'm so glad. I hate being too popular. [Evans offer's bacon to Mr. Parbury. He pushes the dish aioay.] Take it away. Have some bacon, George 1 [Talies a piece of toast, looks at it, then puts it down. Gunning. Thank you. [Helps himself to bacon. [Exit Evans, L , luith bacon dish. 84 THE TYRANNY OF TEARS Parbuby. I must say I think your display of temper is in the worst possible taste under the circumstances. Gunning. \_Butteriiiii toast.^ What do you mean by "under the circumstances " 1 Parbuey. You know what I mean. How much sleep do you think I've had t Gunning. I'm sure I don't know. What concerns me is that you detained me in this outlandish place — what county is it ? — till past three o'clock, and then in- sisted, with alcoholic tears in your eyes, on my returning to breakfast. Parbury. Tea or coffee 1 Gunning. Tea — no ; coffee — no, neither. Parbury. Have some hot milk? [Offers Mm the jug. Gunning. Ugh! Don't. [Tal-es an erj(j. Shells it. Parbury. [Lifth! the lid of the tea-pot, then of the voff'ee-put, and closen tlieni ijentlij loith a tool- of di^tanfe.] No, not this morning. Still, we must drink something. What shall it be ? THE TYRANNY OF TEARS 85 Gunning. I am your guest. Parbuby. Perhaps we had better split a bottle. Gunning. Please be frank. Do you mean Bass or champagne % Parbuet. Champagne, of course. [ZTe calls loudly. ~\ Evans ! Evans ! Evans. [OutsideJ] Yes, sir. Enter Evans, L. Parbury. Bring a bottle of champagne. Evans. [Startimj ever so slightly. '\ Cham Parbury. [Irritably.] Champagne and glasses. Evans. [Becovering his composure.] Yes, sir. [Exit Evans, L., wearing a discreet smile. Parbury. It's a thing I haven't done for years — taken wine in the morning. GUXNING. Five years. 86 THE TYRANNY OF TEARS ' Parbury. Exactly. Gunning. In what I may venture to describe as the pre- domestic period it was rather a way of yours. Parbury. You mean ours. Gunning. Ours, if you prefer it. Where's the salt ? Parbury. There it is, right before your eyes. Why don't you look ? Gunnixg. Pass the mustard, please. What a good chap you were in those days. Parbury. Yes. Strange, you were always • Gunning. Always what ? Parbury. Toast ? Gunning. Thanks, I've got some. Always what % Parbury. It's quite pleasant out here, isn't it 1 Gunning. Delightful. You were saying I was always THE TYRANNY OF TEARS 87 Parbury. - Oh, it doesn't matter. Gunning. Of course, being about me it wouldn't matter. Parbury. I'm afraid of offending you. Gunning. You couldn't do that. Parbury. Well, I was going to say you were always rather sour-natured. Gunning. Really ! [f/e takes up a daily imper and glances through it, continuing to do so while Parbury speulv. Parbury. And that has, I fancy, quite unconsciously to you, I am sure, a disturbing influence on others of happier nature. [Talcing an egg. Gunning. [Dratolingly.] Yes. [He continues to read. Parbury. Take yesterday, for instance. Of course, you didn't intend it. I wouldn't suggest that for a moment. But, damn it, look at the result ! 88 THE TYRAIMNV OF TEARS GuNNIiVG. [/fj th(; same manner as before.] Yes. [He reaih. Parbuby. [TalniKj the top off his hoileil eij;/.] Simply deplor- able. I've broken loose from my moorings. I'm at the mercy of every breeze. 1 feel that I've lost moral stability. Confound it, why doesn't that champagne come ? Enter Evans, L., with, chamjjngne. Pours out two glasses and. hands them to Gunxixg and Parbuby. Parbury. I'm not quite certain that for a man like me — [Gunxixg groanx and returns to Ms newspaper] — a man, if I may say so, of generous instincts and large sympathies — a groove isn't a good thing, even if it be a little narrow. Of course, for a man of your nature, it's a different matter. GuxxixG. [Suddriily puts down t/te j'^I"-''', draws his cli.air closer to the table, and takes an egg with ap)piirent cheerfulness.] What were you s:iyiiig, old man? Parbury. Nothing. GUXNING. [Affeding hearliness.] Let's talk about you. Pakbury. I Fingering the ro.- rhi:» and shakes hands.\ Not in the least. Armitage. \^At back of table, C] Good-morning, Mr. Gunning. GnNNING. Good-morning, Colonel. \_Tliey shake hands. Parbuey. Have you breakfasted 1 Armitage. Thanks, yes, but poorly. I didn't get to bed till four. Parbury. Nor did I. Gunning. Nor I. Armitage. And then I had but little sleep. Parbury. The same with me. Gunning. And with me. 92 THE TYRANNY OF TEARS Armitage. [With a touch of asperitij.'] Your troubles, Clement, you have, of course, bi-ought upon yourself ; but I think it's a little hard on your friends that they should be made to suffer with you. Gunning. Hear, hear ! Enter Evans with fruit. Gunning and, Parbuby eacli talie an apple. Ali.MITAGE. \_Tapping the champagne bottle with his sticJi.] What's this ? Some new kind of table water, I suppose. Parbury. Champagne. Armitage. Champagne at this hour ! Well, I suppose you know best how to regulate your life. Have you an extra glass ? Parbury. Another glass, Evans. Evans. "t'es, sir. [p]xit Evans. Armitage. It's a thing I haven't done for many years. Parbury. I trust. Colonel, 5'ou won't accuse me of leading you from the path of morning abstinence. THE TYRANNY OF TEARS 93 Armitage. Eeally, Clement, I think this display of ill-humour is scarcely in — er — give me a word. Gunning. Good taste. Armitage. Exactly ! Good taste, considering that we are suffering from the effects of your domestic — er — er — Gunning. Malad ministration . Armitage. Maladministration — exactly. Gunning. I quite agree with you, Colonel. Armitage. Look at your friend there. If he'll allow me to say so, he's put on ten years since yesterda}'. Look at me ! Last evening, I suggest — I hope I'm not conceited — I suggest I didn't look a day over forty- seven. Gunning. Not an hour. Armitage. While to-day — what would you say, Mr Gunning 1 94 THE TYRANNY OF TEARS Gunning. \IjOolis at liim critically, il ten falls hack in his chair. \ Fifty-two. [Pabbury loolis savagely at Gunning, throws his apple on table, and turns away. Armitage. I feared so ; but I like you for your frankness. [He ruts a riijar. Enter Evans, with tiimhler on tray ; he places tumhler on table, and collects the breakfast thimjs. Panse. Armitage Hi/ldx 7h'x ri