  Many people must have wondered whether happiness resulted from the marriage between Charles Marlow, whose shyness with ladies, it will be remembered, prevented his ever having a word to say to any woman above the rank of a barmaid, and the vivacious Kate Hardcastle. The following sequel reveals the painful truth. STILL STOOPING.Scene I.—The parlour of Charles Marlow’s house. He and Kate are sitting on opposite sides of the fire. Silence reigns, and Charles fidgets nervously. Kate. [Anticipating a remark subsequently made by Paula Tanqueray.] Six minutes! Charles. [Finding his tongue with an effort.] Er—eh? Kate. Exactly six minutes, dear, since you made your last remark. Charles. [Laughing uneasily and blushing.] Um—ah!—ha! ha. Kate. Well? What are you going to say next? It’s really time you made an observation of some kind, you know. Charles. [Helplessly.] Um—er—I’ve nothing to say. Kate. [Rallying him.] Come, make an effort. Charles. [In desperation.] It’s—er—a fine day. Kate. [Genially.] Considering that it’s raining steadily, dear, and has been for the past half-hour, I hardly think that can be considered a fortunate opening. Charles. [Covered with confusion.] Confound it! so it is. Forgive me—er—my dear, I didn’t know what I was saying. Kate. You very seldom do, dear—to me.
Charles. What a fool you must think me! Kate. [Touched by his evident sincerity.] Never mind. It’s a shame to laugh at you. But you are rather absurd, you know. [She goes over and kisses him. He accepts the caress with gratitude, but blushes painfully.] E. J. Wheeler. “But I’ve always been shy.” Charles. I know, my love. But I’ve always been shy like that. It’s an idiosyncrasy. Kate. Not idiosyncrasy, dear. Idiocy. The words are so much alike. Charles. [Hurt.] Ah, now you’re laughing at me! Kate. Of course I am, goose. [Argumentatively.] You see, dear, as long as you were a bachelor it was all very well to be bashful. But now that we are married, I really think you ought to fight against it! Charles. Fight against it! I fight against it every hour of the day. Every morning I say to myself, “I really must get over this ridiculous shyness. I must try and show Kate how much I—er—love her.” Kate. You are curiously unsuccessful, dear. Charles. [Miserably.] I feel that. But it’s not for lack of trying. [Desperately.] Do you suppose, Kate, that anything but the strongest effort of will keeps me sitting in this chair at this moment? Do I ever, save under compulsion, remain in the same room with any lady for more than five minutes? Why, my dear girl, if I didn’t love you to distraction, I shouldn’t remain here an instant! Kate. You certainly have a curious method of displaying an ardent attachment. Charles. Yes. It’s most unfortunate. But I warned you, dear, didn’t I? I told you all about my absurd bashfulness before we became engaged. You knew that the presence of ladies invariably reduced Kate. [Sweetly.] Not invariably, my love. What about your prowess with Mrs. Mantrap and Lady Betty Blackleg that you told me about? [Charles blushes crimson.] Didn’t they call you “their agreeable Rattle” at the Ladies’ Club in Town? Charles. I—er—get on well enough with—um—er disreputable ladies. But you—er—aren’t disreputable. Kate. You are too modest, dear. Some of your conquests are quite respectable. Didn’t I come upon you in the act of kissing Anne, the housemaid, yesterday? And no one can pretend that my housemaids are disreputable! Charles. [Sighing.] Yes. I’m not shy with housemaids. Kate. So I noticed. I sent Anne away this morning. Charles. [With real concern.] Not Anne! Kate. Yes. And Sarah too. I thought I detected in you a lurking penchant for Sarah. Charles. [Simply.] Yes, I liked Sarah. Kate. So now we haven’t a single maid in the house. It’s really very inconvenient. Charles. You must get others. Kate. For you to make eyes at? Certainly not. By the way, is there any type of female domestic servant whom you do not find irresistibly attractive? Dark ones? Fair ones? Young ones? Old ones? Tall ones? Short ones? [He shakes his head at each question.] Not one? Charles. I’m afraid not. Kate. [With decision.] Then I must do the house-work myself. Charles. [Delighted.] Charming! My dear Kate, how delightful! Put on a cap and apron and take a broom in your hand, and my bashfulness will vanish at once. I know it will. Kate. It seems the only course open to us, especially as there’s no one else to sweep the rooms. But I wish you were not so unfortunately constituted. Charles. [Heartily.] So do I. But, after all, we must accept facts and make the best of them. You stooped to conquer, you know. You must go on stooping. Go and put on an apron at once. Scene II.—Charles’s special sitting-room, where he is wont to hide his shyness from visitors. Time, a week later. Kate, in a print dress, cap and apron, is on her knees before the fire-place cleaning up the hearth. Charles. [Entering the room unperceived, stealing up behind her and giving her a sounding kiss.] Still stooping, Kate. Charles! [Rising.] Charles. [Kissing her again.] Ah, Kate, Kate, what a charming little creature you are, and how much I love you! Kate. But how long will you go on loving me? Charles. Always, dearest—in a cap and apron. [Embraces her.] Kate. It’s rather hard that I should have to remain a housemaid permanently in order to retain my husband’s affection. Charles. [Seriously.] It is, dear. I see that. Kate. However, there’s nothing to be done, so I may as well accustom myself to the idea as soon as possible. [Takes a broom and begins to sweep the floor.] You don’t think your ab Charles. It may, dear. But I think it would be unwise to count upon it. No, as far as I can see, the only thing to be done is for you to continue in your present occupation—you sweep charmingly—for the rest of your natural life. Kate. [Sweeping industriously.] What would my father say if he saw me! Charles. [Easily.] He won’t see you. He hasn’t been over since we were married. [A ring is heard. Kate. [Starting.] Who’s that? Charles. What does it matter? No one will be shown in here. Jenkins has orders never to bring visitors into my room. Kate. That’s true. [Returns to her sweeping.] [Suddenly the door opens and Mr. Hardcastle enters, with elaborate heartiness, thrusting aside Jenkins, who vainly tries to keep him out. Hardcastle. Zounds, man, out of the way! Don’t talk to me about the parlour. Can’t I come and see my son-in-law in any room I choose? [Charles mutters an oath; Kate stands, clutching her broom convulsively, facing her father. Hardcastle. [Boisterously.] How d’ye do, son-in-law? Kate, my dear, give me a kiss. Heavens, child, don’t stand there clinging to a broomstick as though you were going to fly away with it. Come and kiss your old father. [Kate drops the broom nervously and kisses him obediently. Charles. [Endeavouring by the warmth of his welcome to divert attention from his wife.] How d’ye do, Sir—How d’ye do? [Wringing his hand.] Hardcastle. [Noticing a small heap of dust on the carpet, which has been collected by Kate’s exertions.] Eh, what’s this? Why, I believe you were actually sweeping the room, Kate! Kate. [Shamefacedly.] I am sorry, father, that you should have found me so unsuitably employed. Hardcastle. Unsuitably? On the contrary, nothing could be more suitable. Kate. [Annoyed.] Come, Papa, don’t you begin to be eccentric too! Hardcastle. [Stiffly.] I am not aware that there is anything eccentric about me. Charles. [Intervening nervously.] No, no, Sir. Of course not. Hardcastle. But when I find my daughter laying aside her finery and looking after her house, I cannot conceal my satisfaction. Ah, Charles, you have improved her greatly. When she lived at home, you remember, I had hard enough work to persuade her to lay aside fine clothes and wear her housewife’s dress in the evenings. As for sweeping, I never even ventured to Kate. [Indignantly.] I should think not! Hardcastle. And yet, Kate, if you knew how charming you look in a print frock, a cap and apron—— Kate. [Laughing in spite of herself.] You, too! Really, papa, I’m ashamed of you. However, you seem both of you determined that I should pass the remainder of my days as a housemaid, so I suppose you must have your way. This is what comes of “stooping to conquer.” Now go away, both of you, and leave me to finish sweeping. [Takes up broom again resolutely. Hardcastle. We will, Kate. Come, Charles. [Exit. Charles. Coming, Sir [darting across to his wife and kissing her.] Darling! Kate. Goose! [He goes out hurriedly after Hardcastle. Curtain. |
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