AN UNCOMFORTABLE CALL. CHARACTERS. KATHERINE ROCHESTER, ci-devant wife of George Rochester. A SERVANT. SENE. A small, well-furnished drawing-room in Mayfair. Katherine R., seated before the fire on a winter afternoon, musing. KATHERINE R. So it's just a year since I severed my matrimonial bonds, and got rid of my husband forever! How time flies! It doesn't seem a year since I became a widow. Nay, I'm not that. What am I then? Surely neither fish, flesh nor fowl; an ambiguous position indeed! Perhaps I was foolish to appeal to the law for my release, but I did it in a fit of temper, and must abide by the decision. Oh, I had great provocation! It wasn't so much his little peccadilloes-I could have condoned them in time, perhaps; wise wives sometimes must, and I was so much older than he was. No, it was the abominable way in which he deserted.me -as goes the phrase-that really brought matters to a crisis. Leaving me alone, week after week, month af ter month, to do what I liked, go where I liked, spend what money I pleased-though, to be sure, it was all my ownwithout even writing a line to ask if I were dead or alive. Stay, I'm wrong; he did telegraph once from Norway to me: "Please send photo; almost forgotten what you're like." Monstrous! and so ungrateful, too, when all the time I was making him such a liberal allowance. I ought to have stopped it, but I hoped my paltry generosity might bring him to his senses-soften him, perhaps —but it didn't; and I never saw him for two whole years until that morning in court-and then I wished I hadn't done it, but it was too late. Some of my married friends used to envy me rathertold me I was a lucky woman, and a fool to make a fuss. But I married for companionship. I wanted some one to talk at I mean to talk to; some one to fuss when I didn't feel well. Nerves? Of course I've got nerves, and then he said I made scenes and drove him from his home. If I have a sensitive nature, he should have soothed, not irritated me; sat with my hand in his, stroked my hair, listened to all I had to say without answering; humored me; coaxed me, instead of rushing out of the house and slam. ming the hall door after him. That wasn't the way to treat me! Yet not such a bad fellow, after all. Good-looking, young, cheery, easy-going—that was it-too easy, going everywhere without me. But I've punished him-at least, I hope I have. His pocket must feel the difference, if his heart doesn't. I wonder what has become of him? Always abroad, I suppose. I'm not likely to hear much more about him. I never see any of his friends; they don't seem to call. Nobody seems to call much-now. (Yawns.) It's dull work having only the servants to scold. Enter servant carrying a small salver on which lies a visiting card. SERVANT. A lady wishes to see you, ma'am. KATHERINE R. Thank goodness for some one! (Sharply.) Well, where is she. What have you done with her? SERVANT. Here is the lady's card, ma'am. She wouldn't come up until she knew if you would see her. KATHERINE R. Dear me, what a mystery! (Reads the card.) "Mrs. George Rochester." What's this? A joke, or my ghost? (Suddenly illuminated.) The wretch has married again-this is his new wife! SERVANT (impassively). Shall I show the lady up, ma'am? KATHERINE R. Certainly not. Stay-yes, I will see her. (Servant disappears.) I must see what she's like. How do I look? I'm sure my nose is red. (Takes up a hand-mirror, extracts a powder-puff from her pocket and tones down the acerbity of her nose.) But to come here-I declare it's hardly decent. What can she want? I only hope I shall be able to keep my tongue under control. 66 Servant announces Mrs Rochester" who advances shyly. MABEL. R. (timidly.) Mrs. Rochester, I believe? KATHERINE R. That is-that was of course, that is my name. (Aside.) Why, she's a mere girl, and how lovely! MABEL R. (nervously.) You know who I am? (Katherine R. flicks the card affirmatively.) I trust-I am sure-I hope you will pardon the liberty I have taken in calling upon you so unceremoniously; but the fact is-I wanted to consult you-if you will kindly allow me to do so KATHERINE R. (aside.) He's been at his old tricks; poor little soul! (Aloud.) Won't you sit down? (They sit.) MABEL R. The object of my visit is about-concerns(Falters and blushes.) your-no, my― at once? KATHERINE R. (aggressively.) Why not say “our husband, By-the-way, how long have you been married? MABEL R. Two months. We have just come back from (blushing again) our honeymoon. KATHERINE R. (ironically.) Together? MABEL R. (surprised.) Why, yes. We are always together. KATHERINE R. He never leaves you alone-for hours? MABEL R. Oh, no! He wouldn't dream of such a thing. KATHERINE R. (between her teeth.) Wait! (Aloud.) But, really, I fail to see how these accounts of bridal bliss can possibly interest me? MABEL R. (uncomfortably remembering certain of George's confidences concerning a former honeymoon.) No, of course not. It wasn't to talk of that that I came― KATHERINE R. (cuttingly.) Thank you! MABEL R. But I wanted to know before settling downwe have just taken a tiny house in Kensington—to learn something about dear George's tastes. KATHERINE R. (aside.) Is she a fool, or is she trying to be insolent? (Aloud.) I fear I am hardly the right person to give you the information you require. MABEL R. Oh! but I'm sure you are-for (naively) he tells me you were with him for over three years. KATHERINE R. (fiercely.) He discusses me in the same way as he does his cook! MABEL R. (precipitately.) Oh, no! Please don't think that for a moment. You're not the least bit alike—quite, quite different. Cook is young, nice-looking, and so good tempered. Oh, dear, what have I said? I didn't mean to be rude, but you look at me so strangely. I wish I hadn't come; it was only for his sake (floundering on), but I fancied that during a three years-visit KATHERINE R. (laughing sardonically.) "Visit" is good. MABEL R. I should have said residence with a person, you do get to know something about them, don't you? KATHERINE R. (grimly.) You do, indeed. MABEL R. That's just it, and so- (Hesitates.) KATHERINE R. And so you have called upon me to ask for the character of George Rochester (deprecating movement of Mabel). Oh, pray don't apologize! It was very prudent of you to do so. Forewarned is forearmed. Well, as he can vasses me as he would a servant, I will do the same by him I believe him to be perfectly honest, clean and generally sober. These are the questions I am bound to answer, are they not? Pas encore (rising as she continues). And now supposing in addition I told you that your husband prefers the society of other people to that of his own wife; that he is indifferent to her welfare, careless of her happiness; that when she is ill and depressed he is inconsiderately cheerful; when she is nervous, he is noisy; when she lectures, he laughs; when she weeps, he whistles (warming to her topic); that when she wants one thing, he wants another; when she says " don't," he says "shall;" when she says "won't," he says "will;" that he cannot bear the slightest contradiction; that he absolutely insists upon being master in his own house, upon giving his orders, having his way; and if his wife attempts to argue with him, to thwart him, to assert her independency of thought and action, that he goes off and leaves her to herself for two whole years. What would you say if I told you that? (Pulls up breathless.) MABEL R. (somewhat alarmed by this avalanche of verbiage.) Why, really, I think-I should say it was the fault of his wife. KATHERINE R. (taken aback.) What? (Aside.) She means to insult me; but I will hear her out. (Aloud, reseating her self.) Now, I am ready to listen to you. MABEL R. I won't detain you long. I have made a list of the questions I should like to ask; you will be quite candid with me, won't you? (Produces a dainty little carnet.) KATHERINE R. Oh, quite! (Aside.) Hasn't she heard enough? What more does she want? MABEL R. (consulting her notebook.) Let me see-oh, yes— this is rather important-has he got———— KATHERINE R. (quickly.) More than likely- MABEL R. Appetite in the morning? Does he like- KATHERINE R. (gasping.) Kidneys! MABEL R. (prattling on.) For breakfast, I mean. They are such a help, and quite digestible if they're well done Grandmamma always used to say that the way to a man's heart is through his mouth, and I've copied some nice re cipes, if he only likes them-but that's what I wanted to find out, for it's no good giving him things he won't eat, is it? KATHERINE R. (bewildered.) No, I suppose not. MABEL R. (making notes.) Yes, kidneys, you said, I think. I'll put them down. Now, eggs. How does he like eggs? Poached or plain boiled? KATHERINE R. Oh, poached--boiled-plain colored- much. Now for lunch. I have a wonderful recipe for hashing cold mutton to make it taste like venison. I shall give him that sometimes, shall I? Oh, puddings-does he like puddings? KATHERINE R. (wildly.) Yes. Puddings, pies, tartsMABEL R. Can he eat shellfish? Crabs? Now how does he like them dressed? KATHERINE R. (distractedly.) Oh, overdressed, undressed, full-dressed; anyhow. (Aside.) I shall scream directly. MABEL R. (continuing calmly.) Now, dinner. Of course dinner is the most serious meal in a man's day. Entrees will be my chief difficulty, for we shall be quite poor. But I think that sweetbreads, sometimes with a white sauce, sometimes with a brown gravy, will be quite safe to order, don't you? (Katherine R. nods helplessly.) And a vol-au-vent now and then, if he eats pastry, I think you said he eats pastry. (Katherine R. nods.) Thank you! I think I'm all right about the joints, for all men eat joints, don't they? Ah! About sweets. What sweets did you give him? KATHERINE R. None. Sweets were not in my line, he said. MABEL R. (recognizing a danger signal.) Oh, yes, of course; men never eat sweets, do they? They prefer savories. Perhaps you could give me some hints about savories? Katherine R. (rallying her scattered senses.) Mrs. Rochester, my husband and I seldom dined together. I know little or nothing of his likes and dislikes. Perhaps (bitterly) if I had studied them, as you are doing, my meals might have been less lonely. (Painful pause. Mabel R. goes softly up to the sofa where Katherine R. is rocking herself, and takes her hand.) MABEL R. Don't cry, don't cry! It's done now. KATHERINE R. (hysterically.) But I did it. I was obliged to do it. That seems the cruel part. MABEL R. (gently.) Our lives are in our own hands, to |