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diff --git a/2570-h/2570-h.htm b/2570-h/2570-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..1e9e7b2 --- /dev/null +++ b/2570-h/2570-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,5765 @@ +<?xml version="1.0" encoding="us-ascii"?> + +<!DOCTYPE html + PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd" > + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" lang="en"> + <head> + <title> + Two Men of Sandy Bar, by Bret Harte + </title> + <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve"> + + body { margin:5%; background:#faebd0; text-align:justify} + P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .25em; margin-bottom: .25em; } + H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; } + hr { width: 50%; text-align: center;} + .foot { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; text-indent: -3em; font-size: 90%; } + blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + .mynote {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;} + .toc { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;} + .toc2 { margin-left: 20%;} + div.fig { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; } + div.middle { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; } + .figleft {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;} + .figright {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;} + .pagenum {display:inline; font-size: 70%; font-style:normal; + margin: 0; padding: 0; position: absolute; right: 1%; + text-align: right;} + pre { font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%;} + +</style> + </head> + <body> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Two Men of Sandy Bar, by Bret Harte + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Two Men of Sandy Bar + A Drama + +Author: Bret Harte + +Release Date: January 8, 2009 [EBook #2570] +Last Updated: December 17, 2012 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK TWO MEN OF SANDY BAR *** + + + + +Produced by Donald Lainson, and David Widger + + + + + + +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <h1> + TWO MEN OF SANDY BAR + </h1> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <h2> + by Bret Harte + </h2> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <h2> + Contents + </h2> + <table summary="" style="margin-right: auto; margin-left: auto"> + <tr> + <td> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0001"> DRAMATIS PERSONAE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0002"> COSTUMES </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0003"> TWO MEN OF SANDY BAR </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0004"> ACT I </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0005"> ACT II. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0006"> ACT III. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0007"> ACT IV. </a> + </p> + </td> + </tr> + </table> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> <a name="link2H_4_0001" id="link2H_4_0001"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + DRAMATIS PERSONAE + </h2> + <p> + The Prodigals. + </p> + <p> + "SANDY".. Son of Alexander Morton, sen. + </p> + <p> + JOHN OAKHURST.. His former partner, personating the prodigal son, Sandy. + </p> + <p> + COL. STARBOTTLE.. Alexander Morton, sen.'s, legal adviser. + </p> + <p> + OLD MORTON.. Alexander Morton, sen. + </p> + <p> + DON JOSE.. Father of Jovita Castro. + </p> + <p> + CAPPER.. A detective. + </p> + <p> + CONCHO.. Major-domo of Don Jose's rancho. + </p> + <p> + YORK.. An old friend of Oakhurst. + </p> + <p> + PRITCHARD.. An Australian convict. + </p> + <p> + SOAPY & SILKY.. His pals. + </p> + <p> + JACKSON.. Confidential clerk of Alexander Morton, jun., and confederate of + Pritchard. + </p> + <p> + HOP SING.. A Chinese laundryman. + </p> + <p> + SERVANT of Alexander Morton, sen.—POLICEMEN. + </p> + <p> + MISS MARY MORRIS.. The schoolmistress of Red Gulch, in love with Sandy, + and cousin of Alexander Morton, sen. + </p> + <p> + DONA JOVITA CASTRO.. In love with John Oakhurst, and daughter of Don Jose. + </p> + <p> + THE DUCHESS.. Wife of Pritchard, illegally married to Sandy, and former + "flame" of John Oakhurst. + </p> + <p> + MANUELA.. Servant of Castro, and maid to Dona Jovita. + </p> + <p><br /> + ACT I + </p> + <p><br /> + The Rancho of the Blessed Innocents, and House of Don Jose Castro. + </p> + <p><br /> + ACT II + </p> + <p><br /> + Red Gulch. + </p> + <p><br /> + ACT III + </p> + <p><br /> + The Banking-House of Morton & Son, San Francisco. + </p> + <p><br /> + ACT IV + </p> + <p><br /> + The Villa of Alexander Morton, sen., San Francisco. + </p> + <p><br /> + <a name="link2H_4_0002" id="link2H_4_0002"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + COSTUMES + </h2> + <p><br /> + ALEXANDER MORTON ("SANDY").—First dress: Mexican vaquero; black + velvet trousers open from knee, over white trousers; laced black velvet + jacket, and broad white sombrero; large silver spurs. Second dress: + miner's white duck jumper, and white duck trousers; (sailor's) straw hat. + Third dress: fashionable morning costume. Fourth dress: full evening + dress. + </p> + <p><br /> + JOHN OAKHURST.—First dress: riding-dress, black, elegantly fitting. + Second and third dress: fashionable. Fourth dress: full evening dress. + </p> + <p><br /> + COL. STARBOTTLE.—First dress: blue double-breasted frock, and white + "strapped" trousers; white hat. Second dress: same coat, blue trousers, + and black broad-brimmed felt hat; cane, semper; ruffles, semper. Third + dress: the same. Fourth dress: the same, with pumps. + </p> + <p><br /> + YORK.—Fashionable morning dress. + </p> + <p><br /> + JACKSON.—Business suit. + </p> + <p><br /> + CONCHO.—First dress: vaquero's dress. Second dress: citizen's dress. + </p> + <p><br /> + HOP SING.—Dress of Chinese coolie: dark-blue blouse, and dark-blue + drawers gathered at ankles; straw conical hat, and wooden sabots. + </p> + <p><br /> + DON JOSE.—First dress: serape, black, with gold embroidery. Second + class: fashionable black suit, with broad-brimmed black stiff sombrero. + </p> + <p><br /> + OLD MORTON.—First, second, third, and fourth dress: black, stiff, + with white cravat. + </p> + <p><br /> + CAPPER.—Ordinary dress of period. + </p> + <p><br /> + MISS MARY.—First dress: tasteful calico morning dress. Second and + third dress: lady's walking costume—fashionable. Fourth dress: full + dress. + </p> + <p><br /> + DONA JOVITA.—First dress: handsome Spanish dress, with manta. Second + dress: more elaborate, same quality. + </p> + <p><br /> + THE DUCHESS.—First dress: elaborate but extravagant fashionable + costume. Second dress: traveling dress. + </p> + <p><br /> + MANUELA.—The saya y manta; white waist, and white or black skirt, + with flowers. + </p> + <p><br /> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p><br /> + <br /> <br /> <a name="link2H_4_0003" id="link2H_4_0003"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <h1> + TWO MEN OF SANDY BAR + </h1> + <p><br /> + <a name="link2H_4_0004" id="link2H_4_0004"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <div class="play"> + <h2> + ACT I + </h2> + <h3> + SCENE 1.—Courtyard and Corridors of the Rancho. + </h3> + <p><br /> + MANUELA (arranging supper-table in corridor L., solus). There! + Tortillas, chocolate, olives, and—the whiskey of the Americans! + And supper's ready. But why Don Jose chooses to-night, of all nights, + with this heretic fog lying over the Mission Hills like a wet serape, to + take his supper out here, the saints only know. Perhaps it's some + distrust of his madcap daughter, the Dona Jovita; perhaps to watch her—who + knows? And now to find Diego. Ah, here he comes. So! The old story. He + is getting Dona Jovita's horse ready for another madcap journey. Ah! + (Retires to table.) + </p> + <p><br /> + Enter cautiously from corridor, L., SANDY MORTON, carrying lady's saddle + and blanket; starts on observing MANUELA, and hastily hides saddle and + blanket in recess. + </p> + <p><br /> + Sandy (aside). She's alone. I reckon the old man's at his siesta yet. Ef + he'll only hang onto that snooze ten minutes longer, I'll manage to let + that gal Jovita slip out to that yer fandango, and no questions asked. + </p> + <p><br /> + Manuela (calling SANDY). Diego! + </p> + <p><br /> + Sandy (aside, without heeding her). That's a sweet voice for a serenade. + Round, full, high-shouldered, and calkilated to fetch a man every time. + Only thar ain't, to my sartain knowledge, one o' them chaps within a + mile of the rancho. (Laughs.) + </p> + <p><br /> + Manuela. Diego! + </p> + <p><br /> + Sandy (aside). Oh, go on! That's the style o' them Greasers. They'll + stand rooted in their tracks, and yell for a chap without knowin' + whether he's in sight or sound. + </p> + <p><br /> + Manuela (approaching SANDY impatiently). Diego! + </p> + <p><br /> + Sandy (starting, aside). The devil! Why, that's ME she's after. + (Laughs.) I clean disremembered that when I kem yer I tole those chaps + my name was James,—James Smith (laughs), and thet they might call + me "Jim." And De-a-go's their lingo for Jim. (Aloud.) Well, my beauty, + De-a-go it is. Now, wot's up? + </p> + <p><br /> + Manuela. Eh? no sabe! + </p> + <p><br /> + Sandy. Wot's your little game. (Embraces her.) + </p> + <p><br /> + Manuela (aside, and recoiling coquettishly). Mother of God! He must be + drunk again. These Americans have no time for love when they are sober. + (Aloud and coquettishly.) Let me go, Diego. Don Jose is coming. He has + sent for you. He takes his supper to-night on the corridor. Listen, + Diego. He must not see you thus. You have been drinking again. I will + keep you from him. I will say you are not well. + </p> + <p><br /> + Sandy. Couldn't you, my darling, keep him from ME? Couldn't you make him + think HE was sick? Couldn't you say he's exposin' his precious health by + sittin' out thar to-night; thet ther's chills and fever in every breath? + (Aside.) Ef the old Don plants himself in that chair, that gal's chances + for goin' out to-night is gone up. + </p> + <p><br /> + Manuela. Never. He would suspect at once. Listen, Diego. If Don Jose + does not know that his daughter steals away with you to meet some + caballero, some LOVER,—you understand, Diego,—it is because + he does not know, or would not SEEM to know, what every one else in the + rancho knows. Have a care, foolish Diego! If Don Jose is old and blind, + look you, friend, we are NOT. You understand? + </p> + <p><br /> + Sandy (aside). What the devil does she expect?—money? No! (Aloud.) + Look yer, Manuela, you ain't goin' to blow on that young gal! (Putting + his arm around her waist.) Allowin' that she hez a lover, thar ain't + nothin' onnateral in thet, bein' a purty sort o' gal. Why, suppose + somebody should see you and me together like this, and should just let + on to the old man. + </p> + <p><br /> + Manuela. Hush! (Disengaging herself.) Hush! He is coming. Let me go, + Diego. It is Don Jose! + </p> + <p><br /> + Enter Don Jose, who walks gravely to the table, and seats himself. + MANUELA retires to table. + </p> + <p><br /> + Sandy (aside). I wonder if he saw us. I hope he did: it would shut that + Manuela's mouth for a month of Sundays. (Laughs.) God forgive me for it! + I've done a heap of things for that young gal Dona Jovita; but this yer + gittin' soft on the Greaser maid-servant to help out the misses is a + little more than Sandy Morton bargained fur. + </p> + <p><br /> + Don Jose (to MANUELA). You can retire. Diego will attend me. (Looks at + DIEGO attentively.) [Exit MANUELA. + </p> + <p><br /> + Sandy (aside). Diego will attend him! Why, blast his yeller skin, does + he allow that Sandy Morton hired out as a purty waiter-gal? Because I + calkilated to feed his horses, it ain't no reason thet my dooty to + animals don't stop thar. Pass his hash! (Turns to follow MANUELA, but + stops.) Hello, Sandy! wot are ye doin', eh? You ain't going back on Miss + Jovita, and jest spile that gal's chances to git out to-night, on'y to + teach that God-forsaken old gov'ment mule manners? No! I'll humor the + old man, and keep one eye out for the gal. (Comes to table, and leans + familiarly over the back of DON JOSE'S chair.) + </p> + <p><br /> + Don Jose (aside). He seems insulted and annoyed. His manner strengthens + my worst suspicions. He has not expected this. (Aloud.) Chocolate, + Diego. + </p> + <p><br /> + Sandy (leaning over table carelessly). Yes, I reckon it's somewhar thar. + </p> + <p><br /> + Don Jose (aside). He is unused to menial labor. If I should be right in + my suspicions! if he really were Dona Jovita's secret lover! This + gallantry with the servants only a deceit! Bueno! I will watch him. + (Aloud.) Chocolate, Diego! + </p> + <p><br /> + Sandy (aside). I wonder if the old fool reckons I'll pour it out. Well, + seein's he's the oldest. (Pours chocolate awkwardly, and spills it on + the table and DON JOSE.) + </p> + <p><br /> + Don Jose (aside). He IS embarrassed. I am right. (Aloud.) Diego! + </p> + <p><br /> + Sandy (leaning confidentially over DON JOSE'S chair). Well, old man! + </p> + <p><br /> + Don Jose. Three months ago my daughter the Dona Jovita picked you up, a + wandering vagabond, in the streets of the Mission. (Aside.) He does not + seem ashamed. (Aloud.) She—she—ahem! The aguardiente, Diego. + </p> + <p><br /> + Sandy (aside). That means the whiskey. It's wonderful how quick a man + learns Spanish. (Passes the bottle, fills DON JOSE'S glass, and then his + own. DON JOSE recoils in astonishment.) I looks toward ye, ole man. + (Tosses off liquor.) + </p> + <p><br /> + Don Jose (aside). This familiarity! He IS a gentleman. Bueno! (Aloud.) + She was thrown from her horse; her skirt caught in the stirrup; she was + dragged; you saved her life. You— + </p> + <p><br /> + Sandy (interrupting, confidentially drawing a chair to the table, and + seating himself). Look yer! I'll tell you all about it. It wasn't that + gal's fault, ole man. The hoss shied at me, lying drunk in a ditch, you + see; the hoss backed, the surcle broke; it warn't in human natur for her + to keep her seat, and that gal rides like an angel; but the mustang + throwed her. Well, I sorter got in the way o' thet hoss, and it stopped. + Hevin' bin the cause o' the hoss shyin', for I reckon I didn't look much + like an angel lyin' in that ditch, it was about the only squar thing for + me to waltz in and help the gal. Thar, thet's about the way the thing + pints. Now, don't you go and hold that agin her! + </p> + <p><br /> + Don Jose. Well, well! She was grateful. She has a strange fondness for + you Americans; and at her solicitation I gave you—YOU, an unknown + vagrant—employment here as groom. You comprehend, Diego. I, Don + Jose Castro, proprietor of this rancho, with an hundred idle vaqueros on + my hands,—I made a place for you. + </p> + <p><br /> + Sandy (meditatively). Umph. + </p> + <p><br /> + Don Jose. You said you would reform. How have you kept your word? You + were drunk last Wednesday. + </p> + <p><br /> + Sandy. Thet's so. + </p> + <p><br /> + Don Jose. And again last Saturday. + </p> + <p><br /> + Sandy (slowly). Look yer, ole man, don't ye be too hard on me: that was + the same old drunk. + </p> + <p><br /> + Don Jose. I am in no mood for trifling. Hark ye, friend Diego. You have + seen, perhaps,—who has not?—that I am a fond, an indulgent + father. But even my consideration for my daughter's strange tastes and + follies has its limit. Your conduct is a disgrace to the rancho. You + must go. + </p> + <p><br /> + Sandy (meditatively). Well, I reckon, perhaps I'd better. + </p> + <p><br /> + Don Jose (aside). His coolness is suspicious. Can it be that he expects + the girl will follow him? Mother of God! perhaps it has been already + planned between them. Good! Thank Heaven I can end it here. (Aloud.) + Diego! + </p> + <p><br /> + Sandy. Old man. + </p> + <p><br /> + Don Jose. For my daughter's sake, you understand,—for her sake,—I + am willing to try you once more. Hark ye! My daughter is young, foolish, + and romantic. I have reason to believe, from her conduct lately, that + she has contracted an intimacy with some Americano, and that in her + ignorance, her foolishness, she has allowed that man to believe that he + might aspire to her hand. Good! Now listen to me. You shall stay in her + service. You shall find out,—you are in her confidence,—you + shall find out this American, this adventurer, this lover if you please, + of the Dona Jovita my daughter; and you will tell him this,—you + will tell him that a union with him is impossible, forbidden; that the + hour she attempts it, without my consent, she is PENNILESS; that this + estate, this rancho, passes into the hands of the Holy Church, where + even your laws cannot reach it. + </p> + <p><br /> + Sandy (leaning familiarly over the table). But suppose that he sees that + little bluff, and calls ye. + </p> + <p><br /> + Don Jose. I do not comprehend you (coldly). + </p> + <p><br /> + Sandy. Suppose he loves that gal, and will take her as she stands, + without a cent, or hide or hair of yer old cattle. + </p> + <p><br /> + Don Jose (scornfully). Suppose—a miracle! Hark ye, Diego! It is + now five years since I have known your countrymen, these smart + Americanos. I have yet to know when love, sentiment, friendship, was + worth any more than a money value in your market. + </p> + <p><br /> + Sandy (truculently and drunkenly). You hev, hev ye? Well, look yar, ole + man. Suppose I REFUSE. Suppose I'd rather go than act as a spy on that + young gal your darter! Suppose that—hic—allowin' she's my + friend, I'd rather starve in the gutters of the Mission than stand + between her and the man she fancies. Hey? Suppose I would—damn me! + Suppose I'd see you and your derned old rancho in—t'other place—hic—damn + me. You hear me, ole man! That's the kind o' man I am—damn me. + </p> + <p><br /> + Don Jose (aside, rising contemptuously). It is as I suspected. Traitor. + Ingrate! Satisfied that his scheme has failed, he is ready to abandon + her. And this—THIS is the man for whom she has been ready to + sacrifice everything,—her home, her father! (Aloud, coldly.) Be it + so, Diego: you shall go. + </p> + <p><br /> + Sandy (soberly and seriously, after a pause.) Well, I reckon I had + better. (Rising.) I've a few duds, old man, to put up. It won't take me + long. (Goes to L., and pauses.) + </p> + <p><br /> + Don Jose (aside). Ah! he hesitates! He is changing his mind. (SANDY + returns slowly to table, pours out glass of liquor, nods to DON JOSE, + and drinks.) I looks towards ye, ole man. Adios! + </p> + <p><br /> + [Exit SANDY. + </p> + <p><br /> + Don Jose. His coolness is perfect. If these Americans are cayotes in + their advances, they are lions in retreat! Bueno! I begin to respect + him. But it will be just as well to set Concho to track him to the + Mission; and I will see that he leaves the rancho alone. + </p> + <p><br /> + [Exit Jose. + </p> + <p><br /> + Enter hurriedly JOVITA CASTRO, in riding habit, with whip. + </p> + <p><br /> + So! Chiquita not yet saddled, and that spy Concho haunting the plains + for the last half-hour. What an air of mystery! Something awful, + something deliciously dreadful, has happened! Either my amiable drunkard + has forgotten to despatch Concho on his usual fool's errand, or he is + himself lying helpless in some ditch. Was there ever a girl so + persecuted? With a father wrapped in mystery, a lover nameless and + shrouded in the obscurity of some Olympian height, and her only + confidant and messenger a Bacchus instead of a Mercury! Heigh ho! And in + another hour Don Juan—he told me I might call him John—will + be waiting for me outside the convent wall! What if Diego fails me? To + go there alone would be madness! Who else would be as charmingly + unconscious and inattentive as this American vagabond! (Goes to L.) Ah, + my saddle and blanket hidden! He HAS been interrupted. Some one has been + watching. This freak of my father's means something. And to-night, of + all nights, the night that Oakhurst was to disclose himself, and tell me + all! What is to be done? Hark! (DIEGO, without, singing.) + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + "Oh, here's your aguardiente, + Drink it down!" +</pre> + <p><br /> + Jovita. It is Diego; and, Mother of God! drunk again! + </p> + <p><br /> + Enter SANDY, carrying pack, intoxicated; staggers to centre, and, + observing JOVITA, takes off his hat respectfully. + </p> + <p><br /> + Jovita (shaking him by the shoulders passionately). Diego! How dare you! + And at such a time! + </p> + <p><br /> + Sandy (with drunken solemnity). Miss Jovita, did ye ever know me to be + drunk afore at such a time? + </p> + <p><br /> + Jovita. No. + </p> + <p><br /> + Sandy. Zachy so. It's abnormal. And it means—the game's up. + </p> + <p><br /> + Jovita. I do not understand. For the love of God, Diego, be plain! + </p> + <p><br /> + Sandy (solemnly and drunkenly). When I say your game's up, I mean the + old man knows it all. You're blowed upon. Hearken, miss. (Seriously and + soberly.) Your father knows all that I know; but, as it wasn't my + business to interfere with, I hev sorter helped along. He knows that you + meet a stranger, an American, in these rides with me. + </p> + <p><br /> + Jovita (passionately). Ingrate! You have not dared to tell him! (Seizing + him by the collar, and threatening him with the horsewhip.) + </p> + <p><br /> + Sandy (rising with half-drunken, half-sober solemnity). One minit, miss! + one minit! Don't ye! don't ye do that! Ef ye forget (and I don't blame + ye for it), ef ye forget that I'm a man, don't ye, don't ye forget that + you're a woman! Sit ye down, sit ye down, so! Now, ef ye'll kindly + remember, miss, I never saw this yer man, yer lover. Ef ye'll recollect, + miss, whenever you met him, I allers hung back and waited round in the + mission or in the fields beyond for ye, and allowed ye to hev your own + way, it bein' no business o' mine. Thar isn't a man on the ranch, who, + ef he'd had a mind to watch ye, wouldn't hev known more about yer lover + than I do. + </p> + <p><br /> + Jovita (aside). He speaks truly. He always kept in the background. Even + Don Juan never knew that I had an attendant until I told him. (Aloud.) I + made a mistake, Diego. I was hasty. What am I to do? He is waiting for + me even now. + </p> + <p><br /> + Sandy. Well (with drunken gravity), ef ye can't go to him, I reckon it's + the squar thing for him to come to ye. + </p> + <p><br /> + Jovita. Recollect yourself, Diego. Be a man! + </p> + <p><br /> + Sandy. Fash jus war I say. Let him be a man, and come to ye here. Let + him ride up to this ranch like a man, and call out to yer father that + he'll take ye jist as ye are, without the land. And if the old man + allows, rather than hev ye marry that stranger, he'll give this yer + place to the church, why, let him do it, and be damned. + </p> + <p><br /> + Jovita (recoiling, aside). So! That is their plan. Don Jose has worked + on the fears or the cupidity of this drunken ingrate. + </p> + <p><br /> + Sandy (with drunken submission). Ye was speaking to me, miss. Ef ye'll + take my advice,—a drunken man's advice, miss,—ye'll say to + that lover of yours, ef he's afeard to come for ye here, to take ye as + ye stand, he ain't no man for ye. And, ontil he does, ye'll do as the + ole man says. Fur ef I do say it, miss,—and thar ain't no love + lost between us,—he's a good father to ye. It ain't every day that + a gal kin afford to swap a father like that, as she DOES KNOW, fur the + husband that she DON'T! He's a proud old fool, miss; but to ye, to ye, + he's clar grit all through. + </p> + <p><br /> + Jovita (passionately, aside). Tricked, fooled, like a child! and through + the means of this treacherous, drunken tool. (Stamping her foot.) Ah! we + shall see! You are wise, you are wise, Don Jose; but your daughter is + not a novice, nor a helpless creature of the Holy Church. + (Passionately.) I'll—I'll become a Protestant to-morrow! + </p> + <p><br /> + Sandy (unheeding her passion, and becoming more earnest and + self-possessed). Ef ye hed a father, miss, ez instead o' harkinin' to + your slightest wish, and surroundin' ye with luxury, hed made your + infancy a struggle for life among strangers, and your childhood a + disgrace and a temptation; ef he had left ye with no company but want, + with no companions but guilt, with no mother but suffering; ef he had + made your home, this home, so unhappy, so vile, so terrible, so awful, + that the crowded streets and gutters of a great city was something to + fly to for relief; ef he had made his presence, his very name,—your + name, miss, allowin' it was your father,—ef he had made that + presence so hateful, that name so infamous, that exile, that flyin' to + furrin' parts, that wanderin' among strange folks ez didn't know ye, was + the only way to make life endurable; and ef he'd given ye,—I mean + this good old man Don Jose, miss,—ef he'd given ye as part of yer + heritage a taint, a weakness in yer very blood, a fondness for a poison, + a poison that soothed ye like a vampire bat and sucked yer life-blood + (seizing her arm) ez it soothed ye; ef this curse that hung over ye + dragged ye down day by day, till hating him, loathing him, ye saw + yerself day by day becoming more and more like him, till ye knew that + his fate was yours, and yours his,—why then, Miss Jovita (rising + with an hysterical, drunken laugh), why then, I'd run away with ye + myself,—I would, damn me! + </p> + <p><br /> + Jovita (who has been withdrawing from him scornfully). Well acted, + Diego. Don Jose should have seen his pupil. Trust me, my father will + reward you. (Aside.) And yet there were tears in his drunken eyes. Bah! + it is the liquor: he is no longer sane. And, either hypocrite or + imbecile, he is to be trusted no longer. But where and why is he going? + (Aloud.) You are leaving us, Diego. + </p> + <p><br /> + Sandy (quietly). Well, the old man and me don't get on together. + </p> + <p><br /> + Jovita (scornfully). Bueno! I see. Then you abandon me. + </p> + <p><br /> + Sandy (quickly). To the old man, miss,—not the young one. (Walks + to the table, and begins to pour out liquor.) + </p> + <p><br /> + Jovita (angrily). You would not dare to talk to me thus if John Oakhurst—ah! + (Checking herself.) + </p> + <p><br /> + Sandy (drops glass on table, hurries to centre, and seizes DONA JOVITA). + Eh! Wot name did you say? (Looks at her amazed and bewildered.) + </p> + <p><br /> + Jovita (terrified, aside). Mother of God! What have I done? Broken my + sacred pledge to keep his name secret. No! No! Diego did not hear me! + Surely this wretched drunkard does not know him. (Aloud.) Nothing. I + said nothing: I mentioned no name. + </p> + <p><br /> + Sandy (still amazed, frightened, and bewildered, passing his hand over + his forehead slowly). Ye mentioned no name? Surely. I am wild, crazed. + Tell me, miss—ye didn't,—I know ye didn't, but I thought it + sounded like it,—ye didn't mention the name of—of—of—John + Oakhurst? + </p> + <p><br /> + Jovita (hurriedly). No, of course not! You terrify me, Diego. You are + wild. + </p> + <p><br /> + Sandy (dropping her hand with a sigh of relief). No, no! In course ye + didn't. I was wild, miss, wild; this drink has confused me yer. + (Pointing to his head.) There are times when I hear that name, miss,—times + when I see his face. (Sadly.) But it's when I've took too much—too + much. I'll drink no more—no more!—to-night—to-night! + (Drops his head slowly in his hands.) + </p> + <p><br /> + Jovita (looking at DIEGO—aside). Really, I'm feeling very + uncomfortable. I'd like to ask a question of this maniac. But nonsense! + Don Juan gave me to understand Oakhurst wasn't his real name; that is, + he intimated there was something dreadful and mysterious about it that + mustn't be told,—something that would frighten people. HOLY + VIRGIN! it has! Why, this reckless vagabond here is pale and agitated. + Don Juan shall explain this mystery to-night. But then, how shall I see + him? Ah, I have it. The night of the last festa, when I could not leave + the rancho, he begged me to show a light from the flat roof of the upper + corridor, that he might know I was thinking of him,—dear fellow! + He will linger to-night at the Mission; he will see the light; he will + know that I have not forgotten. He will approach the rancho; I shall + manage to slip away at midnight to the ruined Mission. I shall—ah, + it is my father! Holy Virgin, befriend me now with self-possession. + (Stands quietly at L., looking toward SANDY, who still remains buried in + thought, as)— + </p> + <p><br /> + Enter DON JOSE; regards his daughter and DIEGO with a sarcastic smile. + </p> + <p><br /> + Don Jose (aside). Bueno! It is as I expected,—an explanation, an + explosion, a lover's quarrel, an end to romance. From his looks I should + say she has been teaching the adventurer a lesson. Good! I could embrace + her. (Crosses to SANDY—aloud.) You still here! + </p> + <p><br /> + Sandy (rising with a start). Yes! I—a—I was only taking + leave of Miss Jovita that hez bin kind to me. She's a good gal, ole man, + and won't be any the worse when I'm gone.—Good-by, Miss Jovita + (extending his hand): I wish ye luck. + </p> + <p><br /> + Jovita (coldly). Adios, friend Diego. (Aside, hurriedly.) You will not + expose my secret? + </p> + <p><br /> + Sandy (aside). It ain't in me, miss. (To DON JOSE, going.) Adios, ole + man. (Shouldering his pack.) + </p> + <p><br /> + Don Jose. Adios, friend Diego. (Formally.) May good luck attend you! + (Aside.) You understand, on your word as—as—as—A + GENTLEMAN!—you have no further communication with this rancho, or + aught that it contains. + </p> + <p><br /> + Sandy (gravely). I hear ye, ole man. Adios. (Goes to gateway, but pauses + at table, and begins to fill a glass of aguardiente.) + </p> + <p><br /> + Don Jose (aside, looking at his daughter). I could embrace her now. She + is truly a Castro. (Aloud to JOVITA.) Hark ye, little one! I have news + that will please you, and—who knows? perhaps break up the monotony + of the dull life of the rancho. To-night come to me two famous + caballeros, Americanos, you understand: they will be here soon, even + now. Retire, and make ready to receive them. [Exit JOVITA. + </p> + <p><br /> + Don Jose (aside, looking at SANDY). He lingers. I shall not be satisfied + until Concho has seen him safely beyond the Mission wall. + </p> + <p><br /> + Enter CONCHO. + </p> + <p><br /> + Concho. Two caballeros have dismounted in the corral, and seek the honor + of Don Jose's presence. + </p> + <p><br /> + Don Jose. Bueno! (Aside.) Follow that fellow beyond the Mission. + (Aloud.) Admit the strangers. Did they give their names? + </p> + <p><br /> + Concho. They did, Don Jose,—Col. Culpepper Starbottle and the Don + Alexandro Morton. + </p> + <p><br /> + Sandy (dropping glass of aguardiente, and staggering stupidly to the + centre, confronting DON JOSE and CONCHO, still holding bottle). Eh! Wot? + Wot name did you say? (Looks stupidly and amazedly at CONCHO and DON + JOSE, and then slowly passes his hand over his forehead. Then slowly and + apologetically.) I axes your pardon, Don Jose, and yours, sir (to + CONCHO), but I thought ye called me. No!—that ez—I mean—I + mean—I'm a little off color here (pointing to his head). I don't + follow suit—I—eh—eh! Oh!—ye'll pardon me, sir, + but thar's names—perhaps yer darter will remember that I was took + a bit ago on a name—thar's names sorter hangin' round me yer + (pointing to his head), that I thinks I hear—but bein' drunk—I + hopes ye'll excoos me. Adios. (Staggers to gateway, CONCHO following.) + </p> + <p><br /> + Concho (aside). There is something more in this than Don Jose would have + known. I'll watch Diego, and keep an eye on Miss Jovita too. + </p> + <p><br /> + Exit, following SANDY, who, in exit, jostles against COL. STARBOTTLE + entering, who stops and leans exhaustedly at the wall to get his breath; + following him closely, and oblivious of SANDY MORTON, ALEXANDER MORTON, + sen. Enter COL. STARBOTTLE and ALEXANDER MORTON, sen. + </p> + <p><br /> + SCENE 2.—The Same. + </p> + <p><br /> + Col. Starbottle (entering, to DON JOSE). Overlooking the insult of—er—inebriated + individual, whose menial position in this—er—er—household + precludes a demand for personal satisfaction, sir, I believe I have the + honor of addressing Don Jose Castro. Very good, sir. Permit me, sir, to + introduce myself as Col. Culpepper Starbottle—demn me! the legal + adviser of Mr. Alexander Morton, sen., and I may add, sir, the friend of + that gentleman, and as such, sir—er—er—personally—personally + responsible. + </p> + <p><br /> + Alexander Morton (puritanically and lugubriously). As a God-fearing man + and forgiving Christian, Mr. Castro, I trust you will overlook the + habitual profanity of the erring but well-meaning man, who, by the + necessities of my situation, accompanies me. I am the person—a + helpless sinner—mentioned in the letters which I believe have + preceded me. As a professing member of the Cumberland Presbyterian + Church, I have ventured, in the interest of works rather than faith, to + overlook the plain doctrines of the church in claiming sympathy of a + superstitious Papist. + </p> + <p><br /> + Starbottle (interrupting, aside to ALEXANDER MORTON). Ahem! ahem! (Aloud + to DON JOSE.) My friend's manner, sir, reminds me of—er—er—Ram + Bootgum Sing, first secretary of Turkish legation at Washington in '45; + most remarkable man—demn me—most remarkable—and warm + personal friend. Challenged Tod Robinson for putting him next to Hebrew + banker at dinner, with remark—demn me—that they were both + believers in the profit! he, he! Amusing, perhaps; irreverent, + certainly. Fought with cimeters. Second pass, Ram divided Tod in two + pieces—fact, sir—just here (pointing) in—er—er—regions + of moral emotions. Upper half called to me,—said to me warningly—last + words—never forget it,—"Star,"—always called me Star,—"Respect + man's religious convictions." Legs dead; emotion confined to upper part + of body—pathetic picture. Ged, sir, something to be remembered! + </p> + <p><br /> + Don Jose (with grave Spanish courtesy). You are welcome, gentlemen, to + the rancho of the Blessed Fisherman. Your letters, with their honorable + report, are here. Believe me, senores, in your modesty you have + forgotten to mention your strongest claim to the hospitality of my + house,—the royal right of strangers. + </p> + <p><br /> + Morton. Angels before this have been entertained as strangers, says the + Good Book; and that, I take it, is your authority for this + ceremoniousness which else were but lip-service and Papist airs. But I + am here in the performance of a duty, Mr. Castro,—the duty of a + Christian father. I am seeking a prodigal son. I am seeking him in his + wine-husks and among his harl— + </p> + <p><br /> + Starbottle (interrupting). A single moment. (To DON JOSE.) Permit me to—er—er—explain. + As my friend Mr. Morton states, we are, in fact, at present engaged in—er—er—quest—er—pilgrimage + that possibly to some, unless deterred by considerations of + responsibility—personal responsibility—sir—Ged, sir, + might be looked upon as visionary, enthusiastic, sentimental, fanatical. + We are seeking a son, or, as my friend tersely and scripturally + expresses it—er—er—prodigal son. I say scripturally, + sir, and tersely, but not, you understand it, literally, nor I may add, + sir, legally. Ged, sir, as a precedent, I admit we are wrong. To the + best of my knowledge, sir, the—er—Prodigal Son sought his + own father. To be frank, sir,—and Ged, sir, if Culpepper + Starbottle has a fault, it is frankness, sir. As Nelse Buckthorne said + to me in Nashville, in '47, "You would infer, Col. Starbottle, that I + equivocate." I replied, "I do, sir; and permit me to add that + equivocation has all the guilt of a lie, with cowardice superadded." The + next morning at nine o'clock, Ged, sir, he gasped to me—he was + lying on the ground, hole through his left lung just here (illustrating + with DON JOSE'S coat),—he gasped, "If you have a merit, Star, + above others, it is frankness!" his last words, sir,—demn me.... + To be frank, sir, years ago, in the wild exuberance of youth, the son of + this gentleman left his—er—er—er—boyhood's home, + owing to an innocent but natural misunderstanding with the legal + protector of his youth— + </p> + <p><br /> + Morton (interrupting gravely and demurely). Driven from home by my own + sinful and then unregenerate hand— + </p> + <p><br /> + Starbottle (quickly). One moment, a simple moment. We will not weary you + with—er—er—history, or the vagaries of youth. He—er—came + to California in '49. A year ago, touched by—er—er—parental + emotion and solicitude, my friend resolved to seek him here. Believing + that the—er—er—lawlessness of—er—er—untrammelled + youth and boyish inexperience might have led him into some trifling + indiscretion, we have sought him successively in hospitals, alms-houses, + reformatories, State's prisons, lunatic and inebriate asylums, and—er—er—even + on the monumental inscriptions of the—er—er—country + churchyards. We have thus far, I grieve to say, although acquiring much + and valuable information of a varied character and interest, as far as + the direct matter of our search,—we have been, I think I may say, + unsuccessful. Our search has been attended with the—er—disbursement + of some capital under my—er—er—direction, which, + though large, represents quite inadequately the—er—er—earnestness + of our endeavors. + </p> + <p><br /> + Enter MANUELA. + </p> + <p><br /> + Manuela (to DON JOSE). The Dona Jovita is waiting to receive you. + </p> + <p><br /> + Don Jose (to MORTON). You shall tell me further of your interesting + pilgrimage hereafter. At present my daughter awaits us to place this + humble roof at your disposal. I am a widower, Don Alexandro, like + yourself. When I say that, like you, I have an only child, and that I + love her, you will understand how earnest is my sympathy. This way, + gentlemen. (Leading to door in corridor, and awaiting them.) + </p> + <p><br /> + Starbottle (aside). Umph! an interview with lovely woman means—er—intoxication, + but—er—er—no liquor. It's evident that the Don doesn't + drink. Eh! (Catches sight of table in corridor, and bottle.) Oh, he + does, but some absurd Spanish formality prevents his doing the polite + thing before dinner. (Aloud, to DON JOSE.) One moment, sir, one moment. + If you will—er—er—pardon the—er—seeming + discourtesy, for which I am, I admit—or—personally + responsible, I will for a few moments enjoy the—er—er—delicious + air of the courtyard, and the beauties of Nature as displayed in the—er—sunset. + I will—er—rejoin you and the—er—er—ladies + a moment later. + </p> + <p><br /> + Don Jose. The house is your own, senor: do as you will. This way, Don + Alexandro. [Exit, in door L., DON JOSE and MORTON, sen. + </p> + <p><br /> + Starbottle. "Do as you will." Well, I don't understand Spanish ceremony, + but that's certainly good English. (Going to table.) Eh! (Smelling + decanter.) Robinson County whiskey! Umph! I have observed that the + spirit of American institutions, sir, are already penetrating the—er—er—superstitions + of—er—foreign and effete civilizations. (Pours out glass of + whiskey, and drinks; pours again, and observes MANUELA watching him + respectfully.) What the Devil is that girl looking at? Eh! (Puts down + glass.) + </p> + <p><br /> + Manuela (aside). He is fierce and warlike. Mother of God! But he is not + so awful as that gray-haired caballero, who looks like a fasting St. + Anthony. And he loves aguardiente: he will pity poor Diego the more. + (Aloud.) Ahem! Senor. (Courtesies coquettishly.) + </p> + <p><br /> + Col. Starbottle (aside). Oh, I see. Ged! not a bad-looking girl,—a + trifle dark, but Southern, and—er—tropical. Ged, Star, Star, + this won't do, sir; no, sir. The filial affections of Aeneas are not to + be sacrificed through the blandishments of—er—Dodo—I + mean a Dido. + </p> + <p><br /> + Manuela. O senor, you are kind, you are good. You are an Americano, one + of a great nation. You will feel sympathy for a poor young man,—a + mere muchacho,—one of your own race, who was a vaquero here, + senor. He has been sent away from us here disgraced, alone, hungry, + perhaps penniless. (Wipes her eyes.) + </p> + <p><br /> + Col. Starbottle. The Devil! Another prodigal. (Aloud.) My dear, the case + you have just stated would appear to be the—er—er—normal + condition of the—er—youth of America. But why was he + discharged? (Pouring out liquor.) + </p> + <p><br /> + Manuela (demurely glancing at the colonel). He was drunk, senor. + </p> + <p><br /> + Starbottle (potently). Drunkenness, my child, which is—er—weakness + in the—er—er—gentleman, in the subordinate is a crime. + What—er—excites the social impulse and exhilarates the fancy + of the—er—master of the house, in the performance of his + duty, renders the servant unfit for his. Legally it is a breach of + contract. I should give it as my opinion,—for which I am + personally responsible,—that your friend Diego could not recover. + Ged! (Aside.) I wonder if this scapegoat could be our black sheep. + </p> + <p><br /> + Manuela. But that was not all, senor. It was an excuse only. He was sent + away for helping our young lady to a cavalier. He was discharged because + he would not be a traitor to her. He was sent away because he was too + good, too honorable,—too— (Bursts out crying.) + </p> + <p><br /> + Starbottle (aside). Oh, the Devil! THIS is no Sandy Morton. (Coming + forward gravely.) I have never yet analyzed the—er—er—character + of the young gentleman I have the honor to assist in restoring to his + family and society; but judging—er—calmly—er—dispassionately, + my knowledge of his own father—from what the old gentleman must + have been in his unregenerate state, and knowing what he is now in his + present reformed Christian condition, I should say calmly and + deliberately that the son must be the most infernal and accomplished + villain unhung. Ged, I have a thought, an inspiration. (To MANUELA, + tapping her under the chin.) I see, my dear; a lover, ha, ha! Ah, you + rogue! Well, well, we will talk of this again. I will—er—er—interest + myself in this Diego. [Exit MANUELA. + </p> + <p><br /> + Starbottle (solus). How would it do to get up a prodigal? Umph. + Something must be done soon: the old man grows languid in his search. My + position as a sinecure is—er—in peril. A prodigal ready + made! But could I get a scoundrel bad enough to satisfy the old man? + Ged, that's serious. Let me see: he admits that he is unable to + recognize his own son in face, features, manner, or speech. Good! If I + could pick up some rascal whose—er—irregularities didn't + quite fill the bill, and could say—Ged!—that he was + reforming. Reforming! Ged, Star! That very defect would show the + hereditary taint, demn me! I must think of this seriously. Ged, Star! + the idea is—an inspiration of humanity and virtue. Who knows? it + might be the saving of the vagabond,—a crown of glory to the old + man's age. Inspiration, did I say? Ged, Star, it's a DUTY,—a + sacred, solemn duty, for which you are responsible,—personally + responsible. + </p> + <p><br /> + Lights down half. Enter from corridor L., MORTON, DON JOSE, the DONA + JOVITA, and MANUELA. + </p> + <p><br /> + Dona Jovita (stepping forward with exaggerated Spanish courtesy). A + thousand graces await your Excellency, Commander Don—Don— + </p> + <p><br /> + Starbottle (bowing to the ground with equal delight and exaggerated + courtesy). Er—Coolpepero! + </p> + <p><br /> + Dona Jovita. Don Culpepero! If we throw ourselves unasked at your + Excellency's feet (courtesy), if we appear unsought before the light of + your Excellency's eyes (courtesy), if we err in maidenly decorum in thus + seeking unbidden your Excellency's presence (courtesy), believe us, it + is the fear of some greater, some graver indecorum in our conduct that + has withdrawn your Excellency's person from us since you have graced our + roof with your company. We know, Senor Commander, how superior are the + charms of the American ladies. It is in no spirit of rivalry with them, + but to show—Mother of God!—that we are not absolutely ugly, + that we intrude upon your Excellency's solitude. (Aside.) I shall need + the old fool, and shall use him. + </p> + <p><br /> + Col. Starbottle (who has been bowing and saluting with equal + extravagance, during this speech—aside). Ged! she IS beautiful! + (Aloud.) Permit me er—er—Dona Jovita, to correct—Ged, + I must say it, correct erroneous statements. The man who should—er—utter + in my presence remarks disparaging those—er—charms it is my + privilege to behold, I should hold responsible,—Ged! personally + responsible. You—er—remind me of er—incident, trifling + perhaps, but pleasing, Charleston in '52,—a reception at John C. + Calhoun's. A lady, one of the demnedest beautiful women you ever saw, + said to me, "Star!"—she always called me Star,—"you've + avoided me, you have, Star! I fear you are no longer my friend."—"Your + friend, madam," I said. "No, I've avoided you because I am your lover." + Ged, Miss Jovita, a fact—demn me. Sensation. Husband heard garbled + report. He was old friend, but jealous, rash, indiscreet. Fell at first + fire—umph—January 5th. Lady—beautiful woman—never + forgave: went into convent. Sad affair. And all a mistake—demn me,—all + a mistake, through perhaps extravagant gallantry and compliment. I + lingered here, oblivious perhaps of—er—beauty, in the + enjoyment of Nature. + </p> + <p><br /> + Dona Jovita. Is there enough for your Excellency to share with me, since + it must be my rival? See, the fog is clearing away: we shall have + moonlight. (DON JOSE and MORTON seat themselves at table.) Shall we not + let these venerable caballeros enjoy their confidences and experiences + together? (Aside.) Don Jose watches me like a fox, does not intend to + lose sight of me. How shall I show the light three times from the + courtyard roof? I have it! (Takes STARBOTTLE'S arm.) It is too pleasant + to withdraw. There is a view from the courtyard wall your Excellency + should see. Will you accompany me? The ascent is easy. + </p> + <p><br /> + Starbottle (bowing). I will ascend, although, permit me to say, Dona + Jovita, it would be—er—impossible for me to be nearer—er—heaven, + than—er—at present. + </p> + <p><br /> + Dona Jovita. FLATTERER! Come, you shall tell me about this sad lady who + died. Ah, Don Culpepero, let me hope all your experiences will not be so + fatal to us! + </p> + <p><br /> + [Exeunt DONA JOVITA and STARBOTTLE. + </p> + <p><br /> + Morton (aside). A froward daughter of Baal, and, if I mistake not, even + now concocting mischief for this foolish, indulgent, stiff-necked + father. (Aloud.) Your only daughter, I presume. + </p> + <p><br /> + Don Jose. My darling, Don Alexandro. Motherless from her infancy. A + little wild, and inclined to gayety, but I hope not seeking for more + than these walls afford. I have checked her but seldom, Don Alexandro, + and then I did not let her see my hand on the rein that held her back. I + do not ask her confidence always: I only want her to know that when the + time comes it can be given to me without fear. + </p> + <p><br /> + Morton. Umph! + </p> + <p><br /> + Don Jose (leaning forward confidentially). To show that you have not + intrusted your confidence regarding your wayward son—whom may the + saints return to you!—to unsympathetic or inexperienced ears, I + will impart a secret. A few weeks ago I detected an innocent intimacy + between this foolish girl and a vagabond vaquero in my employ. You + understand, it was on her part romantic, visionary; on his, calculating, + shrewd, self-interested, for he expected to become my heir. I did not + lock her up. I did not tax her with it. I humored it. Today I satisfied + the lover that his investment was not profitable, that a marriage + without my consent entailed the loss of the property, and then left them + together. They parted in tears, think you, Don Alexandro? No, but + mutually hating each other. The romance was over. An American would have + opposed the girl, have driven her to secrecy, to an elopement perhaps. + Eh? + </p> + <p><br /> + Morton (scornfully). And you believe that they have abandoned their + plans? + </p> + <p><br /> + Don Jose. I am sure—hush! she is here! + </p> + <p><br /> + Enter, on roof of corridor, STARBOTTLE and JOVITA. + </p> + <p><br /> + Col. Starbottle. Really, a superb landscape! An admirable view of the—er—fog—rolling + over the Mission Hills, the plains below, and the—er—er—single + figure of—er—motionless horseman— + </p> + <p><br /> + Dona Jovita (quickly). Some belated vaquero. Do you smoke, Senor + Commander? + </p> + <p><br /> + Starbottle. At times. + </p> + <p><br /> + Dona Jovita. With me. I will light a cigarette for you: it is the + custom. + </p> + <p><br /> + COL. STARBOTTLE draws match from his pocket, and is about to light, but + is stopped by DONA JOVITA. + </p> + <p><br /> + Dona Jovita. Pardon, your Excellency, but we cannot endure your American + matches. There is a taper in the passage. + </p> + <p><br /> + COL. STARBOTTLE brings taper: DONA JOVITA turns to light cigarette, but + manages to blow out candle. + </p> + <p><br /> + Dona Jovita. I must try your gallantry again. That is once I have + failed. (Significantly.) + </p> + <p><br /> + COL. STARBOTTLE relights candle, business, same results. + </p> + <p><br /> + Dona Jovita. I am stupid and nervous to-night. I have failed twice. + (With emphasis.) + </p> + <p><br /> + COL. STARBOTTLE repeats business with candle. DONA JOVITA lights + cigarette, hands it to the colonel. + </p> + <p><br /> + Dona Jovita. Thrice, and I have succeeded. (Blows out candle.) + </p> + <p><br /> + Col. Starbottle. A thousand thanks! There is a—er—er—light + on the plain. + </p> + <p><br /> + Dona Jovita (hastily). It is the vaqueros returning. My father gives a + festa to peons in honor of your arrival. There will be a dance. You have + been patient, Senor Commander: you shall have my hand for a waltz. + </p> + <p><br /> + Enter vaqueros, their wives and daughters. A dance, during which the + "sembi canca" is danced by COL. STARBOTTLE and DONA JOVITA. Business, + during which the bell of Mission Church, faintly illuminated beyond the + wall, strikes twelve. Dancers withdraw hurriedly, leaving alone MANUELA, + DONA JOVITA, COL. STARBOTTLE, DON JOSE, and CONCHO. CONCHO formally + hands keys to Don Jose. + </p> + <p><br /> + Don Jose (delivering keys to MORTON with stately impressiveness). Take + them, Don Alexandro Morton, and with them all that they unlock for bliss + or bale. Take them, noble guest, and with them the homage of this + family,—to-night, Don Alexandro, your humble servants. Good-night, + gentlemen. May a thousand angels attend you, O Don Alexandro and Don + Culpepero! + </p> + <p><br /> + Dona Jovita. Good-night, Don Alexandro. May your dreams to-night see all + your wishes fulfilled! Good-night, O Senor Commander. May she you dream + of be as happy as you! + </p> + <p><br /> + Manuela and Concho (together). Good-night, O senores and illustrious + gentlemen! may the Blessed Fisherman watch over you! (Both parties + retreat into opposite corridors, bowing.) + </p> + MANUELA, CONCHO, MORTON, DON JOSE. JOVITA. STARBOTTLE. + <p><br /> + SCENE 3.—The same. Stage darkened. Fog passing beyond wall + outside, and occasionally obscuring moonlit landscape beyond. Enter + JOVITA softly, from corridor L. Her face is partly hidden by Spanish + mantilla. + </p> + <p><br /> + Jovita. All quiet at last; and, thanks to much aguardiente, my warlike + admirer snores peacefully above. Yet I could swear I heard the old + Puritan's door creak as I descended! Pshaw! What matters! (Goes to + gateway, and tries gate.) Locked! Carramba! I see it now. Under the + pretext of reviving the old ceremony, Don Jose has locked the gates, and + placed me in the custody of his guest. Stay! There is a door leading to + the corral from the passage by Concho's room. Bueno! Don Jose shall see! + [Exit R. + </p> + <p><br /> + Enter cautiously R. OLD MORTON. + </p> + <p><br /> + Old Morton. I was not mistaken! It was the skirt of that Jezebel + daughter that whisked past my door a moment ago, and her figure that + flitted down that corridor. So! The lover driven out of the house at + four P. M., and at twelve o'clock at night the young lady trying the + gate secretly. This may be Spanish resignation and filial submission, + but it looks very like Yankee disobedience and forwardness. Perhaps it's + well that the keys are in my pocket. This fond confiding Papist may find + the heretic American father of some service. (Conceals himself behind + pillar of corridor.) + </p> + <p><br /> + After a pause the head of JOHN OAKHURST appears over the wall of + corridor: he climbs up to roof of corridor, and descends very quietly + and deliberately to stage. + </p> + <p><br /> + Oakhurst (dusting his clothing with his handkerchief). I never knew + before why these Spaniards covered their adobe walls with whitewash. + (Leans against pillar in shadow.) + </p> + <p><br /> + Re-enter JOVITA, hastily. + </p> + <p><br /> + Jovita. All is lost; the corral door is locked; the key is outside, and + Concho is gone,—gone where? Madre di Dios! to discover, perhaps to + kill him. + </p> + <p><br /> + Oakhurst (approaching her). No. + </p> + <p><br /> + Jovita. Juan! (Embracing him.) But how did you get here? This is + madness! + </p> + <p><br /> + Oakhurst. As you did not come to the mission, I came to the rancho. I + found the gate locked—by the way, is not that a novelty here?—I + climbed the wall. But you, Miss Castro, you are trembling! Your little + hands are cold! + </p> + <p><br /> + Jovita (glancing around). Nothing, nothing! But you are running a + terrible risk. At any moment we may be discovered. + </p> + <p><br /> + Oakhurst. I understand you: it would be bad for the discoverer. Never + fear, I will be patient. + </p> + <p><br /> + Jovita. But I feared that you might meet Concho. + </p> + <p><br /> + Oakhurst. Concho—Concho—(meditatively). Let me see,—tall, + dark, long in the arm, weighs about one hundred and eighty, and active. + </p> + <p><br /> + Jovita. Yes; tell me! You have met him? + </p> + <p><br /> + Oakhurst. Possibly, possibly. Was he a friend of yours? + </p> + <p><br /> + Jovita. No! + </p> + <p><br /> + Oakhurst. That's better. Are his pursuits here sedentary, or active? + </p> + <p><br /> + Jovita. He is my father's major-domo. + </p> + <p><br /> + Oakhurst. I see: a sinecure. (Aside.) Well, if he has to lay up for a + week or two, the rancho won't suffer. + </p> + <p><br /> + Jovita. Well? + </p> + <p><br /> + Oakhurst. Well! + </p> + <p><br /> + Jovita (passionately). There, having scaled the wall, at the risk of + being discovered—this is all you have to say! (Turning away.) + </p> + <p><br /> + Oakhurst (quietly). Perhaps, Jovita (taking her hand with grave + earnestness), to a clandestine intimacy like ours there is but one end. + It is not merely elopement, not merely marriage, it is exposure! Sooner + or later you and I must face the eyes we now shun. What matters if + tonight or later? + </p> + <p><br /> + Jovita (quickly). I am ready. It was you who— + </p> + <p><br /> + Oakhurst. It was I who first demanded secrecy, but it was I who told you + when we last met that I would tell you why to-night. + </p> + <p><br /> + Jovita. I am ready; but hear me, Juan, nothing can change my faith in + you! + </p> + <p><br /> + Oakhurst (sadly). You know not what you say. Listen, my child. I am a + gambler. Not the man who lavishes his fortune at the gaming-table for + excitement's sake; not the fanatic who stakes his own earnings—perhaps + the confided earnings of others—on a single coup. No, he is the + man who loses,—whom the world deplores, pities, and forgives. I am + the man who wins—whom the world hates and despises. + </p> + <p><br /> + Jovita. I do not understand you, Juan. + </p> + <p><br /> + Oakhurst. So much the better, perhaps. But you must hear me. I make a + profession—an occupation more exacting, more wearying, more + laborious, than that of your meanest herdsman—of that which others + make a dissipation of the senses. And yet, Jovita, there is not the + meanest vaquero in this ranch, who, playing against me, winning or + losing, is not held to be my superior. I have no friends—only + confederates. Even the woman who dares to pity me must do it in secret. + </p> + <p><br /> + Jovita. But you will abandon this dreadful trade. As the son of the rich + Don Jose, no one dare scorn you. My father will relent. I am his + heiress. + </p> + <p><br /> + Oakhurst. No more, Jovita, no more. If I were the man who could purchase + the world's respect through a woman's weakness for him, I should not be + here to-night. I am not here to sue your father's daughter with hopes of + forgiveness, promises of reformation. Reformation, in a man like me, + means cowardice or self-interest. (OLD MORTON, becoming excited, leans + slowly out from the shadow of the pillar listening intently.) I am here + to take, by force if necessary, a gambler's wife,—the woman who + will share my fortunes, my disgrace, my losses; who is willing to leave + her old life of indulgence, of luxury, of respectability, for mine. You + are frightened, little dove: compose yourself (soothing her tenderly and + sadly); you are frightened at the cruel hawk who has chosen you for a + mate. + </p> + <p><br /> + Old Morton (aside). God in heaven! This is like HIM! like me!—like + me, before the blessed Lord lifted me into regeneration. If it should + be! (Leans forward anxiously from pillar.) + </p> + <p><br /> + Oakhurst (aside). Still silent! Poor dove, I can hear her foolish heart + flutter against mine. Another moment decides our fate. Another moment: + John Oakhurst and freedom, or Red Gulch and—she is moving. (To + JOVITA.) I am harsh, little one, and cold. Perhaps I have had much to + make me so. But when (with feeling) I first met you; when, lifting my + eyes to the church-porch, I saw your beautiful face; when, in sheer + recklessness and bravado, I raised my hat to you; when you—you, + Jovita—lifted your brave eyes to mine, and there, there in the + sanctuary, returned my salute,—the salutation of the gambler, the + outcast, the reprobate,—then, then I swore that you should be + mine, if I tore you from the sanctuary. Speak now, Jovita: if it was + coquetry, speak now; I forgive you: if it was sheer wantonness, speak + now; I shall spare you: but if— + </p> + <p><br /> + Jovita (throwing herself in his arms). Love, Juan! I am yours, now and + forever. (Pause.) But you have not told me all. I will go with you + to-night—now. I leave behind me all,—my home, my father, my—(pause) + my name. You have forgotten, Juan, you have not told me what I change + THAT for: you have not told me YOURS. + </p> + <p><br /> + OLD MORTON, in eager excitement, leans beyond shadow of pillar. + </p> + <p><br /> + Oakhurst (embracing her tenderly, with a smile). If I have not told you + who I am, it was because, darling, it was more important that you should + know what I am. Now that you know that—why—(embarrassedly) I + have nothing more to tell. I did not wish you to repeat the name of + Oakhurst—because—(aside) how the Devil shall I tell her that + Oakhurst was my real name, after all, and that I only feared she might + divulge it?—(aloud) because—because—(determinedly) I + doubted your ability to keep a secret. My real name is—(looks up, + and sees MORTON leaning beyond pillar) is a secret. (Pause, in which + OAKHURST slowly recovers his coolness.) It will be given to the good + priest who to-night joins our fate forever, Jovita,—forever, in + spite of calumny, opposition, or SPIES! the padre whom we shall reach, + if enough life remains in your pulse and mine to clasp these hands + together. (After a pause.) Are you content? + </p> + <p><br /> + Jovita. I am. + </p> + <p><br /> + Oakhurst. Then there is not a moment to lose. Retire, and prepare + yourself for a journey. I will wait here. + </p> + <p><br /> + Jovita. I am ready now. + </p> + <p><br /> + Oakhurst (looking toward pillar). Pardon, my darling: there was a + bracelet—a mere trifle—I once gave you. It is not on your + wrist. I am a trifle superstitious, perhaps: it was my first gift. Bring + it with you. I will wait. Go! + </p> + <p><br /> + [Exit JOVITA. + </p> + <p><br /> + OAKHURST watches her exit, lounges indifferently toward gate; when + opposite pillar, suddenly seizes MORTON by the throat, and drags him + noiselessly to centre. + </p> + <p><br /> + Oakhurst (hurriedly). One outcry,—a single word,—and it is + your last. I care not who YOU may be!—who I am,—you have + heard enough to know, at least, that you are in the grip of a desperate + man. (Keys fall from MORTON'S hand. OAKHURST seizes them.) Silence! on + your life. + </p> + <p><br /> + Morton (struggling). You would not dare! I command you— + </p> + <p><br /> + Oakhurst (dragging him to gateway). Out you must go. + </p> + <p><br /> + Morton. Stop, I command you. I never turned MY father out of doors! + </p> + <p><br /> + Oakhurst (gazing at MORTON). It is an OLD man! I release you. Do as you + will, only remember that that girl is mine forever, that there is no + power on earth will keep me from her. + </p> + <p><br /> + Morton. On conditions. + </p> + <p><br /> + Oakhurst. Who are you that make conditions? You are not—her + father? + </p> + <p><br /> + Morton. No but I am YOURS! Alexander Morton, I charge you to hear me. + </p> + <p><br /> + Oakhurst (starting in astonishment; aside). Sandy Morton, my lost + partner's father! This is fate. + </p> + <p><br /> + Morton. You are astonished; but I thought so. Ay, you will hear me now! + I am your father, Alexander Morton, who drove you, a helpless boy, into + disgrace and misery. I know your shameless life: for twenty years it was + mine, and worse, until, by the grace of God, I reformed, as you shall. I + have stopped you in a disgraceful act. Your mother—God forgive me!—left + HER house, for MY arms, as wickedly, as wantonly, as shamelessly— + </p> + <p><br /> + Oakhurst. Stop, old man! Stop! Another word (seizing him), and I may + forget your years. + </p> + <p><br /> + Morton. But not your blood. No, Alexander Morton, I have come thousands + of miles for one sacred purpose,—to save you; and I shall, with + God's will, do it now. Be it so, on one condition. You shall have this + girl; but lawfully, openly, with the sanction of Heaven and your + parents. + </p> + <p><br /> + Oakhurst (aside). I see a ray of hope. This is Sandy's father; the cold, + insensate brute, who drove him into exile, the one bitter memory of his + life. Sandy disappeared, irreclaimable, or living alone, hating + irrevocably the author of his misery; why should not I— + </p> + <p><br /> + Morton (continuing). On one condition. Hear me, Alexander Morton. If + within a year, you, abandoning your evil practices, your wayward life, + seek to reform beneath my roof, I will make this proud Spanish Don glad + to accept you as the more than equal of his daughter. + </p> + <p><br /> + Oakhurst (aside). It would be an easy deception. Sandy has given me the + details of his early life. At least, before the imposition was + discovered I shall be— (Aloud.) I—I— (Aside.) + Perdition! SHE is coming! There is a light moving in the upper chamber. + Don Jose is awakened. (Aloud.) I—I—accept. + </p> + <p><br /> + Morton. It is well. Take these keys, open yonder gate, and fly! (As + OAKHURST hesitates.) Obey me. I will meet your sweetheart, and explain + all. You will come here at daylight in the morning, and claim + admittance, not as a vagabond, a housebreaker, but as my son. You + hesitate. Alexander Morton, I, your father, command you. Go! + </p> + <p><br /> + OAKHURST goes to the gate, opens it, as the sound of DIEGO'S voice, + singing in the fog, comes faintly in. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + O yer's your Sandy Morton, + Drink him down! + O yer's your Sandy Morton, + Drink him down! + O yer's your Sandy Morton, + For he's drunk, and goin' a-courtin'. + O yer's your Sandy Morton, + Drink him down! +</pre> + <p><br /> + OAKHURST recoils against gate, MORTON hesitates, as window in corridor + opens, and DON JOSE calls from upper corridor. + </p> + <p><br /> + Don Jose. Concho! (Pause.) 'Tis that vagabond Diego, lost his way in the + fog. Strange that Concho should have overlooked him. I will descend. + </p> + <p><br /> + Morton (to OAKHURST). Do you hear? + </p> + <p><br /> + Exit OAKHURST through gateway. MORTON closes gate, and returns to + centre. Enter JOVITA hurriedly. + </p> + <p><br /> + Jovita. I have it here. Quick! there is a light in Don Jose's chamber; + my father is coming down. (Sees MORTON, and screams.) + </p> + <p><br /> + Morton (seizing her.) Hush! for your own sake; for HIS; control + yourself. He is gone, but he will return. (To JOVITA, still struggling.) + Hush, I beg, Miss Jovita. I beg, I command you, my daughter. Hush! + </p> + <p><br /> + Jovita (whispering). His voice has changed. What does this mean? + (Aloud.) Where has he gone? and why are YOU here? + </p> + <p><br /> + Morton (slowly and seriously). He has left me here to answer the + unanswered question you asked him. (Enter Don Jose and Col. STARBOTTLE, + R. and L.) I am here to tell you that I am his father, and that he is + Alexander Morton. + </p> + TABLEAUX. + <p><br /> + Curtain. + </p> + END OF ACT I. <a name="link2H_4_0005" id="link2H_4_0005"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + ACT II. + </h2> + <p><br /> + SCENE 1.—Red Gulch. Canyon of river, and distant view of Sierras, + snow-ravined. Schoolhouse of logs in right middle distance. Ledge of + rocks in centre. On steps of schoolhouse two large bunches of flowers. + Enter STARBOTTLE, slowly climbing rocks L., panting and exhausted. Seats + himself on rock, foreground, and wipes his face with his + pocket-handkerchief. + </p> + <p><br /> + Starbottle. This is evidently the er—locality. Here are the—er—groves + of Academus—the heights of er—Ida! I should say that the + unwillingness which the—er—divine Shakespeare points out in + the—er—"whining schoolboy" is intensified in—er—climbing + this height, and the—er—alacrity of his departure must be in + exact ratio to his gravitation. Good idea. Ged! say it to schoolma'am. + Wonder what she's like? Humph! the usual thin, weazened, hatchet-faced + Yankee spinster, with an indecent familiarity with Webster's Dictionary! + And this is the woman, Star, you're expected to discover, and bring back + to affluence and plenty. This is the new fanaticism of Mr. Alexander + Morton, sen. Ged! not satisfied with dragging his prodigal son out of + merited obscurity, this miserable old lunatic commissions ME to hunt up + another of his abused relatives; some forty-fifth cousin, whose mother + he had frozen, beaten, or starved to death! And all this to please his + prodigal! Ged! if that prodigal hadn't presented himself that morning, + I'd have picked up—er—some—er—reduced gentleman—Ged, + that knew how to spend the old man's money to better advantage. + (Musing.) If this schoolmistress were barely good-looking, Star,—and + she's sure to have fifty thousand from the old man,—Ged, you might + get even with Alexander, sen., for betrothing his prodigal to Dona + Jovita, in spite of the—er—evident preference that the girl + showed for you. Capital idea! If she's not positively hideous I'll do + it! Ged! I'll reconnoitre first! (Musing.) I could stand one eye; yes—er—single + eye would not be positively objectionable in the—er—present + experiments of science toward the—er—the substitution of + glass. Red hair, Star, is—er—Venetian,—the beauty of + Giorgione. (Goes up to schoolhouse window, and looks in.) Too early! + Seven empty benches; seven desks splashed with ink. The—er—rostrum + of the awful Minerva empty, but—er—adorned with flowers, + nosegays—demn me! And here, here on the—er—very + threshold (looking down), floral tributes. The—er—conceit of + these New England schoolma'ams, and their—er—evident + Jesuitical influence over the young, is fraught, sir, fraught with—er—darkly + political significance. Eh, Ged! there's a caricature on the blackboard. + (Laughing.) Ha, ha! Absurd chalk outline of ridiculous fat person. + Evidently the schoolma'am's admirer. Ged! immensely funny! Ah! boys will + be boys. Like you, Star, just like you,—always up to tricks like + that. A sentence scrawled below the figure seems to be—er—explanation. + Hem! (Takes out eyeglass.) Let's see (reading.) "This is old"—old—er—old—demme, + sir!—"Starbottle!" This is infamous. I haven't been forty-eight + hours in the place, and to my certain knowledge haven't spoken to a + child. Ged, sir, it's the—er—posting of a libel! The woman, + the—er—female, who permits this kind of thing, should be + made responsible—er—personally responsible. Eh, hush! What + have we here? (Retires to ledge of rocks.) + </p> + <p><br /> + Enter MISS MARY L., reading letter. + </p> + <p><br /> + Miss Mary. Strange! Is it all a dream? No! here are the familiar rocks, + the distant snow-peaks, the schoolhouse, the spring below. An hour ago I + was the poor schoolmistress of Red Gulch, with no ambition nor hope + beyond this mountain wall; and now—oh, it must be a dream! But + here is the letter. Certainly this is no delusion: it is too plain, + formal, business-like. (Reads.) + </p> + <p><br /> + MY DEAR COUSIN—I address the only surviving child of my cousin + Mary and her husband John Morris, both deceased. It is my duty as a + Christian relative to provide you with a home—to share with you + that wealth and those blessings that a kind providence has vouchsafed + me. I am aware that my conduct to your father and mother, while in my + sinful and unregenerate state, is no warrantee for my present promise; + but my legal adviser, Col. Starbottle, who is empowered to treat with + you, will assure you of the sincerity of my intention, and my legal + ability to perform it. He will conduct you to my house; you will share + its roof with me and my prodigal son Alexander, now by the grace of God + restored, and mindful of the error of his ways. I enclose a draft for + one thousand dollars: if you require more, draw upon me for the same. + </p> + <p><br /> + Your cousin, + </p> + ALEXANDER MORTON, SEN. + <p><br /> + My mother's cousin—so! Cousin Alexander! a rich man, and reunited + to the son he drove into shameful exile. Well! we will see this + confidential lawyer; and until then—until then—why, we are + the schoolmistress of Red Gulch, and responsible for its youthful + prodigals. (Going to schoolhouse door.) + </p> + <p><br /> + Miss Mary (stopping to examine flowers). Poor, poor Sandy! Another + offering, and, as he fondly believes, unknown and anonymous! As if he + were not visible in every petal and leaf! The mariposa blossom of the + plain. The snowflower I longed for, from those cool snowdrifts beyond + the ridge. And I really believe he was sober when he arranged them. Poor + fellow! I begin to think that the dissipated portion of this community + are the most interesting. Ah! some one behind the rock,—Sandy, + I'll wager. No! a stranger! + </p> + <p><br /> + Col. Starbottle (aside, and advancing). If I could make her think I left + those flowers! (Aloud.) When I state that—er—I am perhaps—er—stranger— + </p> + <p><br /> + Miss Mary (interrupting him coldly). You explain, sir, your appearance + on a spot which the rude courtesy of even this rude miner's camp has + preserved from intrusion. + </p> + <p><br /> + Starbottle (slightly abashed, but recovering himself). Yes—Ged!—that + is, I—er—saw you admiring—er—tribute—er—humble + tribute of flowers. I am myself passionately devoted to flowers. Ged! + I've spent hours—in—er—bending over the—er—graceful + sunflower, in—er—plucking the timid violet from the + overhanging but reluctant bough, in collecting the—er—er—fauna—I + mean the—er—flora—of this—er—district. + </p> + <p><br /> + Miss Mary (who has been regarding him intently). Permit me to leave you + in uninterrupted admiration of them. (Handing him flowers.) You will + have ample time in your journey down the gulch to indulge your + curiosity! + </p> + <p><br /> + Hands STARBOTTLE flowers, enters schoolhouse, and quietly closes door on + STARBOTTLE as SANDY MORTON enters cautiously and sheepishly from left. + SANDY stops in astonishment on observing STARBOTTLE, and remains by wing + left. + </p> + <p><br /> + Starbottle (smelling flowers, and not noticing MISS MARY'S absence). + Beautiful—er—exquisite. (Looking up at closed door.) Ged! + Most extraordinary disappearance! (Looks around, and discovers SANDY; + examines him for a moment through his eyeglass, and then, after a pause, + inflates his chest, turns his back on SANDY, and advances to schoolhouse + door. SANDY comes quickly, and, as STARBOTTLE raises his cane to rap on + door, seizes his arm. Both men, regarding each other fixedly, holding + each other, retreat slowly and cautiously to centre. Then STARBOTTLE + disengages his arm.) + </p> + <p><br /> + Sandy (embarrassedly but determinedly). Look yer, stranger. By the rules + of this camp, this place is sacred to the schoolma'am and her children. + </p> + <p><br /> + Starbottle (with lofty severity). It is! Then—er—permit me + to ask, sir, what YOU are doing here. + </p> + <p><br /> + Sandy (embarrassed, and dropping his head in confusion). I was—passing. + There is no school to-day. + </p> + <p><br /> + Starbottle. Then, sir, Ged! permit me to—er—DEMAND—DEMAND, + sir—an apology. You have laid, sir, your hand upon my person—demn + me! Not the first time, sir, either; for, if I am not mistaken, you are + the—er—inebriated menial, sir, who two months ago jostled + me, sir,—demn me,—as I entered the rancho of my friend Don + Jose Castro. + </p> + <p><br /> + Sandy (starting, aside). Don Jose! (Aloud.) Hush, hush! She will hear + you. No—that is—(stops, confused and embarrassed. Aside.) + She will hear of my disgrace. He will tell her the whole story. + </p> + <p><br /> + Starbottle. I shall await your apology one hour. At the end of that + time, if it is not forthcoming, I shall—er—er—waive + your menial antecedents, and expect the—er—satisfaction of a + gentleman. Good-morning, sir. (Turns to schoolhouse.) + </p> + <p><br /> + Sandy. No, no: you shall not go! + </p> + <p><br /> + Starbottle. Who will prevent me? + </p> + <p><br /> + Sandy (grappling him). I will. (Appealingly.) Look yer, stranger, don't + provoke me, I, a desperate man, desperate and crazed with drink,—don't + ye, don't ye do it! For God's sake, take your hands off me! Ye don't + know what ye do. Ah! (Wildly, holding STARBOTTLE firmly, and forcing him + backward to precipice beyond ledge of rocks.) Hear me. Three years ago, + in a moment like this, I dragged a man—my friend—to this + precipice. I—I—no! no!—don't anger me now! (Sandy's + grip on STARBOTTLE relaxes slightly, and his head droops.) + </p> + <p><br /> + Starbottle (coolly). Permit me to remark, sir, that any reminiscence of + your—er—friend—or any other man is—er—at + this moment, irrelevant and impertinent. Permit me to point out the—er—fact, + sir, that your hand is pressing heavily, demned heavily, on my shoulder. + </p> + <p><br /> + Sandy (fiercely). You shall not go! + </p> + <p><br /> + Starbottle (fiercely). Shall not? + </p> + <p><br /> + Struggle. STARBOTTLE draws derringer from his breast-pocket, and SANDY + seizes his arm. In this position both parties struggle to ledge of + rocks, and COL. STARBOTTLE is forced partly over. + </p> + <p><br /> + Miss Mary (opening schoolhouse door). I thought I heard voices. (Looking + toward ledge of rocks, where COL. STARBOTTLE and SANDY are partly hidden + by trees. Both men relax grasp of each other at MISS MARY'S voice.) + </p> + <p><br /> + Col. Starbottle (aloud and with voice slightly raised, to SANDY). By—er—leaning + over this way a moment, a single moment, you will—er—perceive + the trail I speak of. It follows the canyon to the right. It will bring + you to—er—the settlement in an hour. (To MISS MARY, as if + observing her for the first time.) I believe I am—er—right; + but, being—er—more familiar with the locality, you can + direct the gentleman better. + </p> + <p><br /> + SANDY slowly sinks on his knees beside rock, with his face averted from + schoolhouse, as COL. STARBOTTLE disengages himself, and advances + jauntily and gallantly to schoolhouse. + </p> + <p><br /> + Col. Starbottle. In—er—er—showing the stranger the—er—way, + I perhaps interrupted our interview. The—er—observances of—er—civility + and humanity must not be foregone, even for—er—the ladies. I—er—believe + I address Miss Mary Morris. When I—er—state that my name is + Col. Starbottle, charged on mission of—er—delicate nature, I + believe I—er—explain MY intrusion. + </p> + <p><br /> + MISS MARY bows, and motions to schoolhouse door; COL. STARBOTTLE, bowing + deeply, enters; but MISS MARY remains standing by door, looking toward + trees that hide SANDY. + </p> + <p><br /> + Miss Mary (aside). I am sure it was Sandy's voice! But why does he + conceal himself? + </p> + <p><br /> + Sandy (aside, rising slowly to his feet, with his back to schoolhouse + door). Even this conceited bully overcomes me, and shames me with his + readiness and tact. He was quick to spare her—a stranger—the + spectacle of two angry men. I—I—must needs wrangle before + her very door! Well, well! better out of her sight forever, than an + object of pity or terror. [Exit slowly, and with downcast eyes, right. + </p> + <p><br /> + Miss Mary (watching the trail). It WAS Sandy! and this concealment means + something more than bashfulness. Perhaps the stranger can explain. + </p> + <p><br /> + [Enters schoolhouse, and closes door. + </p> + <p><br /> + SCENE 2.—The same. Enter CONCHO, lame, cautiously, from R. Pauses + at R., and then beckons to HOP SING, who follows R. + </p> + <p><br /> + Concho (impatiently). Well! you saw him? + </p> + <p><br /> + Hop Sing. Me see him. + </p> + <p><br /> + Concho. And you recognized him? + </p> + <p><br /> + Hop Sing. No shabe likoquize. + </p> + <p><br /> + Concho (furiously). You knew him, eh? Carramba! You KNEW him. + </p> + <p><br /> + Hop Sing (slowly and sententiously). Me shabe man you callee Diego. Me + shabbee Led Gulchee call Sandy. Me shabbee man Poker Flat callee + Alexandlee Molton. Allee same, John! Allee same! + </p> + <p><br /> + Concho (rubbing his hands). Bueno! Good John! good John! And you knew he + was called Alexander Morton? And go on—good John—go on! + </p> + <p><br /> + Hop Sing. Me plentee washee shirtee—Melican man Poker Flat. Me + plentee washee shirt Alexandlee Molton. Always litee, litee on shirt + allee time. (Pointing to tail of his blouse, and imitating writing with + finger.) Alexandlee Molton. Melican man tellee me—shirt say + Alexandlee Molton—shabbee? + </p> + <p><br /> + Concho. Bueno! Excellent John. Good John. His linen marked Alexander + Morton. The proofs are gathering! (crosses to C.)—the letter I + found in his pack, addressed to Alexander Morton, Poker Flat, which + first put me on his track; the story of his wife's infidelity, and her + flight with his partner to red Gulch, the quarrel and fight that + separated them, his flight to San Jose, his wanderings to the mission of + San Carmel, to the rancho of the Holy Fisherman. The record is complete! + </p> + <p><br /> + Hop Sing. Alexandlee Molton— + </p> + <p><br /> + Concho (hurriedly returning to HOP SING). Yes! good John; yes, good John—go + on. Alexander Morton— + </p> + <p><br /> + Hop Sing. Alexandlee Molton. Me washee shirt, Alexandlee Molton; he no + pay washee. Me washee flowty dozen hep—four bittie dozen—twenty + dollar hep. Alexandlee Molton no payee. He say, "Go to hellee!" You pay + me (extending his hand). + </p> + <p><br /> + Concho. Car—! (checking himself). Poco tiempo, John! In good time, + John. Forty dollar—yes. Fifty dollar! Tomorrow, John. + </p> + <p><br /> + Hop Sing. Me no likee "to-mollow!" Me no likee "nex time, John!" Allee + time Melican man say, "Chalkee up, John," "No smallee change, John,"—umph. + Plenty foolee me! + </p> + <p><br /> + Concho. You shall have your money, John; but go now—you + comprehend. Carramba! go! (Pushes HOP SING to wing.) + </p> + <p><br /> + Hop Sing (expostulating). Flowty dozen, hep, John! twenty dollar, John. + Sabe. Flowty—twenty—(gesticulating with fingers). + </p> + <p><br /> + [Exit HOP SING, pushed off by CONCHO. + </p> + <p><br /> + Concho. The pagan dolt! But he is important. Ah, if he were wiser, I + should not rid myself of him so quickly! And now for the schoolmistress,—the + sweetheart of Sandy. If these men have not lied, he is in love with her; + and, if he is, he has told her his secret before now; and she will be + swift to urge him to his rights. If he has not told her—umph! + (laughing) it will not be a DAY—an HOUR—before she will find + out if her lover is Alexander Morton, the rich man's son, or "Sandy," + the unknown vagabond. Eh, friend Sandy! It was a woman that locked up + your secret: it shall be a woman, Madre di Dios! who shall unlock it. + Ha! (Goes to door of schoolhouse as door opens, and appears COL. + STARBOTTLE.) + </p> + <p><br /> + Concho (aside). A thousand devils! the lawyer of the old man Morton. + (Aloud.) Pardon, pardon! I am a stranger. I have lost my way on the + mountain. I am seeking a trail. Senor, pardon! + </p> + <p><br /> + Starbottle (aside). Another man seeking the road! Ged, I believe he's + lying too. (Aloud.) It is before you, sir, DOWN,—down the + mountain. + </p> + <p><br /> + Concho. A thousand thanks, senor. (Aside.) Perdition catch him! (Aloud.) + Thanks, senor. [Exit R. + </p> + <p><br /> + Starbottle. Ged, I've seen that face before. Ged, it's Castro's + major-domo. Demn me, but I believe all his domestics have fallen in love + with the pretty schoolma'am. + </p> + <p><br /> + Enter MISS MARY from schoolhouse. + </p> + <p><br /> + Miss Mary (slowly refolding letter). You are aware, then, of the + contents of this note; and you are the friend of Alexander Morton, sen.? + </p> + <p><br /> + Col. Starbottle. Permit me a moment, a single moment, to—er—er—explain. + I am Mr. Morton's legal adviser. There is—er—sense of—er—responsibility,—er—personal + responsibility, about the term "friend," that at the—er—er—present + moment I am not—er—prepared to assume. The substance of the + letter is before you. I am here to—er—express its spirit. I + am here (with great gallantry) to express the—er—yearnings + of cousinly affection. I am aware—er—that OUR conduct,—if + I may use the—er—the plural of advocacy,—I am aware + that—er—OUR conduct has not in the past years been of—er—er—exemplary + character. I am aware that the—er—death of our lamented + cousin, your sainted mother, was—er—hastened—I may—er—say—pre—cip—itated—by + our—er—indiscretion But we are hereto—er—confess + judgment—with—er—er—costs. + </p> + <p><br /> + Miss Mary (interrupting). In other words, your client, my cousin, having + ruined my father, having turned his own widowed relation out of doors, + and sent me, her daughter, among strangers to earn her bread; having + seen my mother sink and die in her struggle to keep her family from + want,—this man now seeks to condone his offences—pardon me, + sir, if I use your own legal phraseology—by offering me a home; by + giving me part of his ill-gotten wealth, the association of his own + hypocritical self, and the company of his shameless, profligate son— + </p> + <p><br /> + Starbottle (interrupting). A moment, Miss Morris,—a single moment! + The epithets you have used, the—er—vigorous characterization + of our—er—conduct, is—er—within the—er—strict + rules of legal advocacy, correct. We are—er—rascals! we are—er—scoundrels! + we are—er—well, I am not—er—prepared to say that + we are not—er—demn me—hypocrites! But the young man + you speak of—our son, whose past life (speaking as Col. + Starbottle) no one more sincerely deprecates than myself,—that + young man has reformed; has been for the past few months a miracle of + sobriety, decorum, and industry; has taken, thanks to the example of—er—friends, + a position of integrity in his father's business, of filial obedience in + his father's household; is, in short, a paragon; and, demn me, I doubt + if he's his father's son. + </p> + <p><br /> + Miss Mary. Enough, sir! You are waiting for my answer. There is no + reason why it should not be as precise, as brief, and as formal as your + message. Go to my cousin; say that you saw the person he claims as his + relation; say that you found her, a poor schoolmistress, in a rude + mining camp, dependent for her bread on the scant earnings of already + impoverished men, dependent for her honor on the rude chivalry of + outcasts and vagabonds; and say that then and there she repudiated your + kinship, and respectfully declined your invitation. + </p> + <p><br /> + Starbottle (aside). Ged! Star! this is the—er—female of your + species! This is the woman—the—er—one woman—for + whom you are responsible, sir!—personally responsible! + </p> + <p><br /> + Miss Mary (coldly). You have my answer, sir. + </p> + <p><br /> + Col. Starbottle. Permit me—er—single moment,—a single + moment! Between the er—present moment, and that of my departure—there + is an—er—interval of twelve hours. May I, at the close of + that interval—again present myself—without prejudice, for + your final answer? + </p> + <p><br /> + Miss Mary (indifferently). As you will, sir. I shall be here. + </p> + <p><br /> + Col. Starbottle. Permit me. (Takes her hand gallantly.) Your conduct and + manner, Miss Morris, remind me—er—singularly—of—er + beautiful creature—one of the—er—first families. + (Observing MISS MARY regarding him amusedly, becomes embarrassed.) That + is—er—I mean—er—er—good morning, Miss + Morris! (Passes by schoolhouse door, retreating and bowing, and picks up + flowers from door-step.) Good morning! + </p> + <p><br /> + Miss Mary. Excuse me, Col. Starbottle (with winning politeness), but I + fear I must rob you of those flowers. I recognize them now as the + offering of one of my pupils. I fear I must revoke my gift (taking + flowers from astonished colonel's hand), all except a single one for + your buttonhole. Have you any choice, or shall I (archly) choose for + you? Then it shall be this. (Begins to place flowers in buttonhole, COL. + STARBOTTLE exhibiting extravagant gratitude in dumb show. Business + prolonged through MISS MARY's speech.) If I am not wrong, colonel, the + gentleman to whom you so kindly pointed out the road this morning was + not a stranger to you. Ah! I am right. There, one moment,—a sprig + of green, a single leaf, would set off the pink nicely. Here he is known + only as "Sandy": you know the absurd habits of this camp. Of course he + has another name. There! (releasing the colonel) it is much prettier + now. + </p> + <p><br /> + Col. Starbottle. Ged, madam! The rarest exotic—the Victoria Regina—is + not as—er—graceful—er—tribute! + </p> + <p><br /> + Miss Mary. And yet you refuse to satisfy my curiosity? + </p> + <p><br /> + Col. Starbottle (with great embarrassment, which at last resolves itself + into increased dignity of manner). What you ask is—er—er—impossible! + You are right: the—er—gentleman you allude to is known to me + under—er—er—another name. But honor—Miss Morris, + honor!—seals the lips of Col. Starbottle. (Aside.) If she should + know he was a menial! No. The position of the man you have challenged, + Star, must be equal to your own. (Aloud.) Anything, Miss Morris, but—er—that! + </p> + <p><br /> + Miss Mary (smiling). Be it so. Adios, Col. Starbottle. + </p> + <p><br /> + Col. Starbottle (gallantly). Au revoir, Miss Morris. [Exit, + impressively, L. + </p> + <p><br /> + Miss Mary. So! Sandy conceals another name, which he withholds from Red + Gulch. Well! Pshaw! What is that to me? The camp is made up of refugees,—men + who perhaps have good reason to hide a name that may be infamous, the + name that would publish a crime. Nonsense! Crime and Sandy! No, shame + and guilt do not hide themselves in those honest but occasionally + somewhat bloodshot eyes. Besides, goodness knows! the poor fellow's + weakness is palpable enough. No, that is not the reason. It is no guilt + that keeps his name hidden,—at least, not his. (Seating herself, + and arranging flowers in her lap.) Poor Sandy! he must have climbed the + eastern summit to get this. See, the rosy sunrise still lingers in its + very petals; the dew is fresh upon it. Dear little mountain baby! I + really believe that fellow got up before daylight, to climb that giddy + height and secure its virgin freshness. And to think, in a moment of + spite, I'd have given it to that bombastic warrior! (Pause.) That was a + fine offer you refused just now, Miss Mary. Think of it: a home of + luxury, a position of assured respect and homage; the life I once led, + with all its difficulties smoothed away, its uncertainty dispelled,—think + of it! My poor mother's dream fulfilled,—I, her daughter, the + mistress of affluence, the queen of social power! What a temptation! Ah, + Miss Mary, WAS it a temptation? Was there nothing in your free life here + that stiffened your courage, that steeled the adamant of your refusal? + or was it only the memory of your mother's wrongs? Luxury and wealth! + Could you command a dwelling more charming than this? Position and + respect! Is not the awful admiration of these lawless men more + fascinating than the perilous flattery of gentlemen like Col. + Starbottle? is not the devotion of these outcasts more complimentary + than the lip-service of perfumed gallantry? (Pause.) It's very odd he + doesn't come. I wonder if that conceited old fool said anything to him. + (Rises, and then seats herself, smiling.) He HAS COME. He is dodging in + and out of the manganita bushes below the spring. I suppose he imagines + my visitor still here. The bashful fool! If anybody should see him, it + would be enough to make a petty scandal! I'll give him a talking-to. + (Pause.) I wonder if the ridiculous fool has gone to sleep in those + bushes. (Rises.) Well, let him: it will help him to recover his senses + from last night's dissipation; and you, Miss Mary, it is high time you + were preparing the lessons for to-morrow. (Goes to schoolhouse, enters + door, and slams it behind her; after a moment reappears with empty + bucket.) Of course there's no water, and I am dying of thirst. (Goes + slowly to left, and pauses embarrassedly and bashfully, presently + laughs,—then suddenly frowns, and assumes an appearance of + indignation.) Miss Mary Morris, have you become such an egregious fool + that you dare not satisfy the ordinary cravings of human nature, just + because an idle, dissipated, bashful blockhead—nonsense! [Exit, + brandishing pail. + </p> + <p><br /> + SCENE 3.—The Same. + </p> + <p><br /> + (A pause. SANDY'S voice, without.) This way, miss: the trail is easier. + </p> + <p><br /> + (MISS MARY'S voice, without.) Never mind me; look after the bucket. + </p> + <p><br /> + Enter SANDY, carrying bucket with water, followed by MISS MARY. SANDY + sets bucket down. + </p> + <p><br /> + Miss Mary. There, you've spilt half of it. If it had been whiskey, you'd + have been more careful. + </p> + <p><br /> + Sandy (submissively). Yes, miss. + </p> + <p><br /> + Miss Mary (aside). "Yes, miss!" The man will drive me crazy with his + saccharine imbecility. (Aloud.) I believe you would assent to anything, + even if I said you were—an impostor! + </p> + <p><br /> + Sandy (amazedly). An impostor, Miss Mary? + </p> + <p><br /> + Miss Mary. Well, I don't know what other term you use in Red Gulch to + express a man who conceals his real name under another. + </p> + <p><br /> + Sandy (embarrassed, but facing MISS MARY). Has anybody been tellin' ye I + was an impostor, miss? Has thet derned old fool that I saw ye with— + </p> + <p><br /> + Miss Mary. "That old fool," as you call him, was too honorable a + gentleman to disclose your secret, and too loyal a friend to traduce you + by an epithet. Fear nothing, Mr. "Sandy": if you have limited your + confidence to ONE friend, it has not been misplaced. But, dear me, don't + think I wish to penetrate your secret. No. The little I learned was + accidental. Besides, his business was with me: perhaps, as his friend, + you already know it. + </p> + <p><br /> + Sandy (meekly). Perhaps, miss, he was too honorable a gentleman to + disclose YOUR secret. His business was with me. + </p> + <p><br /> + Miss Mary (aside). He has taken a leaf out of my book! He is not so + stupid, after all. (Aloud.) I have no secret. Col. Starbottle came here + to make me an offer. + </p> + <p><br /> + Sandy (recoiling). An offer! + </p> + <p><br /> + Miss Mary. Of a home and independence. (Aside.) Poor fellow! how pale he + looks! (Aloud.) Well, you see, I am more trustful than you. I will tell + you MY secret; and you shall aid me with your counsel. (They sit on + ledge of rocks.) Listen! My mother had a cousin once,—a cousin + cruel, cowardly, selfish, and dissolute. She loved him, as women are apt + to love such men,—loved him so that she beguiled her own husband + to trust his fortunes in the hands of this wretched profligate. The + husband was ruined, disgraced. The wife sought her cousin for help for + her necessities. He met her with insult, and proposed that she should + fly with him. + </p> + <p><br /> + Sandy. One moment, miss: it wasn't his pardner—his pardner's wife—eh? + </p> + <p><br /> + Miss Mary (impatiently). It was the helpless wife of his own blood, I + tell you. The husband died broken-hearted. The wife, my mother, + struggled in poverty, under the shadow of a proud name, to give me an + education, and died while I was still a girl. To-day this cousin,—this + more than murderer of my parents,—old, rich, self-satisfied, + REFORMED, invites me, by virtue of that kinship he violated and + despised, to his home, his wealth, his—his family roof-tree! The + man you saw was his agent. + </p> + <p><br /> + Sandy. And you— + </p> + <p><br /> + Miss Mary. Refused. + </p> + <p><br /> + Sandy (passing his hand over his forehead). You did wrong, Miss Mary. + </p> + <p><br /> + Miss Mary. Wrong, sir? (Rising.) + </p> + <p><br /> + Sandy (humbly but firmly). Sit ye down, Miss Mary. It ain't for ye to + throw your bright young life away yer in this place. It ain't for such + as ye to soil your fair young hands by raking in the ashes to stir up + the dead embers of a family wrong. It ain't for ye—ye'll pardon + me, Miss Mary, for sayin' it—it ain't for ye to allow when it's + TOO LATE fur a man to reform, or to go back of his reformation. Don't ye + do it, miss, fur God's sake,—don't ye do it! Harkin, Miss Mary. If + ye'll take my advice—a fool's advice, maybe—ye'll go. And + when I tell ye that that advice, if ye take it, will take the sunshine + out of these hills, the color off them trees, the freshness outer them + flowers, the heart's-blood outer me,—ye'll know that I ain't + thinkin' o' myself, but of ye. And I wouldn't say this much to ye, Miss + Mary; but you're goin' away. There's a flower, miss, you're wearin' in + your bosom,—a flower I picked at daybreak this morning, five miles + away in the snow. The wind was blowing chill around it, so that my hands + that dug for it were stiff and cold; but the roots were warm, Miss Mary, + as they are now in your bosom. Ye'll keep that flower, Miss Mary, in + remembrance of my love for ye, that kept warm and blossomed through the + snow. And, don't start, Miss Mary,—for ye'll leave behind ye, as I + did, the snow and rocks through which it bloomed. I axes your parding, + miss: I'm hurtin' yer feelin's, sure. + </p> + <p><br /> + Miss Mary (rising with agitation). Nothing,—nothing; but climbing + these stupid rocks has made me giddy: that's all. Your arm. (To SANDY + impatiently). Can't you give me your arm? (SANDY supports MISS MARY + awkwardly toward schoolhouse. At door MISS MARY pauses.) But if + reformation is so easy, so acceptable, why have you not profited by it? + Why have you not reformed? Why have I found you here, a disgraced, + dissipated, anonymous outcast, whom an honest girl dare not know? Why do + you presume to preach to me? Have you a father? + </p> + <p><br /> + Sandy. Hush, Miss Mary, hush! I had a father. Harkin. All that you have + suffered from a kinship even so far removed, I have known from the hands + of one who should have protected me. MY father was—but no matter. + You, Miss Mary, came out of your trials like gold from the washing. I + was only the dirt and gravel to be thrown away. It is too late, Miss + Mary, too late. My father has never sought me, would turn me from his + doors had I sought him. Perhaps he is only right. + </p> + <p><br /> + Miss Mary. But why should he be so different from others? Listen. This + very cousin whose offer I refused had a son,—wild, wayward, by all + report the most degraded of men. It was part of my cousin's reformation + to save this son, and, if it were possible, snatch him from that + terrible fate which seemed to be his only inheritance. + </p> + <p><br /> + Sandy (eagerly). Yes, miss. + </p> + <p><br /> + Miss Mary. To restore him to a regenerated home. With this idea he + followed his prodigal to California. I, you understand, was only an + after-thought consequent upon his success. He came to California upon + this pilgrimage two years ago. He had no recollection, so they tell me, + by which he could recognize this erring son; and at first his search was + wild, profitless, and almost hopeless. But by degrees, and with a + persistency that seemed to increase with his hopelessness, he was + rewarded by finding some clew to him at—at—at— + </p> + <p><br /> + Sandy (excitedly). At Poker Flat? + </p> + <p><br /> + Miss Mary. Ah, perhaps you know the story,—at Poker Flat. He + traced him to the Mission of San Carmel. + </p> + <p><br /> + Sandy. Yes, miss: go on. + </p> + <p><br /> + Miss Mary. He was more successful than he deserved, perhaps. He found + him. I see you know the story. + </p> + <p><br /> + Sandy. Found him! Found him! Miss, did you say found him? + </p> + <p><br /> + Miss Mary. Yes, found him. And today Alexander Morton, the reclaimed + prodigal, is part of the household I am invited to join. So you see, Mr. + Sandy, there is still hope. What has happened to him is only a promise + to you. Eh! Mr. Sandy—what is the matter? Are you ill? Your + exertion this morning, perhaps. Speak to me! Gracious heavens, he is + going mad! No! No! Yes—it cannot be—it is—he HAS + broken his promise: he is drunk again. + </p> + <p><br /> + Sandy (rising, excited and confused). Excuse me, miss, I am a little + onsartain HERE (pointing to his head). I can't—I disremember—what + you said jus' now: ye mentioned the name o' that prodigal that was + found. + </p> + <p><br /> + Miss Mary. Certainly: compose yourself,—my cousin's son, Alexander + Morton. Listen, Sandy, you promised ME, you know, you said for MY sake + you would not touch a drop. (Enter cautiously toward schoolhouse the + DUCHESS, stops on observing SANDY, and hides behind rock.) + </p> + <p><br /> + Sandy (still bewildered and incoherent). I reckon. Harkin, miss, is that + thar thing (pointing towards rock where DUCHESS is concealed)—is + that a tree, or—or—a woman? Is it sorter movin' this way? + </p> + <p><br /> + Miss Mary (laying her hand on SANDY'S). Recover your senses, for + Heaven's sake, Sandy,—for MY sake! It is only a tree. + </p> + <p><br /> + Sandy (rising). Then, miss, I've broke my word with ye: I'm drunk. + P'r'aps I'd better be a-goin' (looking round confusedly) till I'm sober. + (Going toward L.) + </p> + <p><br /> + Miss Mary (seizing his hand). But you'll see me again, Sandy: you'll + come here—before—before—I go? + </p> + <p><br /> + Sandy. Yes, miss,—before ye go. (Staggers stupidly toward L. + Aside.) Found him! found Alexander Morton! It's a third time, Sandy, the + third time: it means—it means—you're mad! (Laughs wildly, + and exit L.) + </p> + <p><br /> + Miss Mary (springing to her feet). There is a mystery behind all this, + Mary Morris, that you—you—must discover. That man was NOT + drunk: he HAD NOT broken his promise to me. What does it all mean? I + have it. I will accept the offer of this Alexander Morton. I will tell + him the story of this helpless man, this poor, poor, reckless Sandy. + With the story of his own son before his eyes, he cannot but interest + himself in his fate. He is rich: he will aid me in my search for Sandy's + father, for Sandy's secret. At the worst, I can only follow the advice + of this wretched man,—an advice so generous, so kind, so + self-sacrificing. Ah— + </p> + <p><br /> + SCENE 4.—The same. Enter the DUCHESS, showily and extravagantly + dressed. Her manner at first is a mixture of alternate shyness and + bravado. + </p> + <p><br /> + The Duchess. I heerd tell that you was goin' down to 'Frisco to-morrow, + for your vacation; and I couldn't let ye go till I came to thank ye for + your kindness to my boy,—little Tommy. + </p> + <p><br /> + Miss Mary (aside. Rising abstractedly, and recalling herself with an + effort). I see,—a poor outcast, the mother of my anonymous pupil. + (Aloud.) Tommy! a good boy,—a dear, good little boy. + </p> + <p><br /> + Duchess. Thankee, miss, thankee. If I am his mother, thar ain't a + sweeter, dearer, better boy lives than him. And, if I ain't much as says + it, thar ain't a sweeter, dearer, angeler teacher than he's got. It + ain't for you to be complimented by me, miss; it ain't for such as me to + be comin' here in broad day to do it, either; but I come to ask a favor,—not + for me, miss, but for the darling boy. + </p> + <p><br /> + Miss Mary (aside—abstractedly). This poor, degraded creature will + kill me with her wearying gratitude. Sandy will not return, of course, + while she is here. (Aloud.) Go on. If I can help you or yours, be + assured I will. + </p> + <p><br /> + The Duchess. Thankee, miss. You see, thar's no one the boy has any claim + on but me, and I ain't the proper person to bring him up. I did allow to + send him to 'Frisco, last year; but when I heerd talk that a schoolma'am + was comin' up, and you did, and he sorter tuk to ye natril from the + first, I guess I did well to keep him yer. For, oh, miss, he loves ye so + much; and, if you could hear him talk in his purty way, ye wouldn't + refuse him anything. + </p> + <p><br /> + Miss Mary (with fatigued politeness, and increasing impatience). I see, + I see: pray go on. + </p> + <p><br /> + The Duchess (with quiet persistency). It's natril he should take to ye, + miss; for his father, when I first knowed him, miss, was a gentleman + like yourself; and the boy must forget me sooner or later—and I + ain't goin' to cry about THAT. + </p> + <p><br /> + Miss Mary (impatiently). Pray tell me how I can serve you. + </p> + <p><br /> + The Duchess. Yes, miss; you see, I came to ask you to take my Tommy,—God + bless him for the sweetest, bestest boy that lives!—to take him + with you. I've money plenty; and it's all yours and his. Put him in some + good school, whar ye kin go and see, and sorter help him to—forget—-his + mother. Do with him what you like. The worst you can do will be kindness + to what he would learn with me. You will: I know you will; won't you? + You will make him as pure and as good as yourself; and when he has grown + up, and is a gentleman, you will tell him his father's name,—the + name that hasn't passed my lips for years,—the name of Alexander + Morton. + </p> + <p><br /> + Miss Mary (aside). Alexander Morton! The prodigal! Ah, I see,—the + ungathered husks of his idle harvest. + </p> + <p><br /> + The Duchess. You hesitate, Miss Mary. (Seizing her.) Do not take your + hand away. You are smiling. God bless you! I know you will take my boy. + Speak to me, Miss Mary. + </p> + <p><br /> + Miss Mary (aloud). I will take your child. More than that, I will take + him to his father. + </p> + <p><br /> + The Duchess. No, no! for God's sake, no, Miss Mary! He has never seen + him from his birth: he does not know him. He will disown him. He will + curse him,—will curse me! + </p> + <p><br /> + Miss Mary. Why should he? Surely his crime is worse than yours. + </p> + <p><br /> + The Duchess. Hear me, Miss Mary. (Aside.) How can I tell her? (Aloud.) + One moment, miss. I was once—ye may not believe it, miss—as + good, as pure, as you. I had a husband, the father of this child. He was + kind, good, easy, forgiving,—too good for me, miss, too simple and + unsuspecting. He was what the world calls a fool, miss: he loved me too + well,—the kind o' crime, miss,—beggin' your pardon, and all + precepts to the contrairy,—the one thing that women like me never + forgives. He had a pardner, miss, that governed him as HE never governed + me; that held him with the stronger will, and maybe ME too. I was young, + miss,—no older than yourself then; and I ran away with him,—left + all, and ran away with my husband's pardner. My husband—nat'rally—took + to drink. I axes your pardin', miss; but ye'll see now, allowin' your + larnin', that Alexander Morton ain't the man as will take my child. + </p> + <p><br /> + Miss Mary. Nonsense. You are wrong. He has reformed; he has been + restored to his home,—your child's home, your home if you will but + claim it. Do not fear: I will make that right. + </p> + <p><br /> + Enter SANDY slowly and sheepishly, R.; stops on observing the Duchess, + and stands amazed and motionless. + </p> + <p><br /> + Miss Mary (observing SANDY—aside). He HAS returned. Poor fellow! + How shall I get rid of this woman? (Aloud.) Enough. If you are sincere, + I will take your child, and, God help me! bring him to his home and + yours. Are you satisfied? + </p> + <p><br /> + The Duchess. Thank ye! Thank ye, miss; but—but thar's a mistake + somewhar. In course—it's natural—ye don't know the father of + that child, my boy Tommy, under the name o' Alexander Morton. Ye're + thinking, like as not, of another man. The man I mean lives yer, in this + camp: they calls him Sandy, miss,—SANDY! + </p> + <p><br /> + Miss Mary (after a pause, coming forward passionately). Hush! I have + given you my answer, be it Alexander Morton or Sandy. Go now: bring me + the child this evening at my house. I will meet you there. (Leads the + DUCHESS to wing. The DUCHESS endeavors to fall at her feet.) + </p> + <p><br /> + The Duchess. God bless you, miss! + </p> + <p><br /> + Miss Mary (hurriedly embracing her). No more, no more—but go! + </p> + <p><br /> + [Exit DUCHESS. MISS MARY returns hurriedly to centre, confronting SANDY. + </p> + <p><br /> + Miss Mary (to SANDY, hurriedly and excitedly). You have heard what that + woman said. I do not ask you under what alias you are known here: I only + ask a single question.—Is SHE your wife? are you the father of her + child? + </p> + <p><br /> + Sandy (sinking upon his knees before her, and covering his face with his + hands). I am! + </p> + <p><br /> + Miss Mary. Enough! (Taking flower from her bosom.) Here, I give you back + the flower you gave me this morning. It has faded and died here upon my + breast. But I shall replace it with your foundling,—the child of + that woman, born like that flower in the snow! And I go now, Sandy, and + leave behind me, as you said this morning, the snow and rocks in which + it bloomed. Good-by! Farewell, farewell—forever! (Goes toward + schoolhouse as—) + </p> + <p><br /> + Enter COL. STARBOTTLE. + </p> + <p><br /> + Miss Mary (to STARBOTTLE). You are here in season, sir. You must have + come for an answer to your question. You must first give me one to mine. + Who is this man (pointing to SANDY), the man you met upon the rocks this + morning? + </p> + <p><br /> + Col. Starbottle. Ahem! I am—er—now fully prepared and + responsible, I may say, miss—er—personally responsible, to + answer that question. When you asked it this morning, the ordinary + courtesy of the—er—code of honor threw a—er—cloak + around the—er—antecedents of the—er—man whom I + had—er—elected by a demand for personal satisfaction, to the + equality of myself, an—er—gentleman! That—er—cloak + is now removed. I have waited six hours for an apology or a—er—reply + to my demand. I am now free to confess that the—er—person + you allude to was first known by me, three months ago, as an inebriated + menial,—a groom in the household of my friend Don Jose Castro,—by + the—er—simple name of "Diego." + </p> + <p><br /> + Miss Mary (slowly). I am satisfied. I accept my cousin's invitation. + </p> + <p><br /> + [Exit slowly, supported by COL. STARBOTTLE, R. + </p> + <p><br /> + As STARBOTTLE and MISS MARY exeunt R., CONCHO and HOP SING enter + cautiously, L. SANDY slowly rises to his feet, passes his hand across + his forehead, looks around toward exit of STARBOTTLE and MISS MARY. + </p> + <p><br /> + Sandy (slowly, but with more calmness of demeanor). Gone, gone—forever! + No: I am not mad, nor crazed with drink. My hands no longer tremble. + There is no confusion here. (Feeling his forehead). I heard them all. It + was no dream. I heard her every word. Alexander Morton, yes, they spoke + of Alexander Morton. She is going to him, to my father. She is going—she, + Mary, my cousin—she is going to my father. He has been seeking me—has + found—ah! (Groans.) No, no, Sandy! Be patient, be calm: you are + not crazy—no, no, good Sandy, good old boy! Be patient, be + patient: it is coming, it is coming. Yes, I see: some one has leaped + into my place; some one has leaped into the old man's arms. Some one + will creep into HER heart! No! by God! No! I am Alexander Morton. Yes, + yes! But how, how shall I prove it?—how? Who (CONCHO steps + cautiously forward towards SANDY unobserved) will believe the vagabond, + the outcast—my God!—the crazy drunkard? + </p> + <p><br /> + Concho (advancing, and laying his hand on SANDY). I will! + </p> + <p><br /> + Sandy (staggering back amazedly). You! + </p> + <p><br /> + Concho. Yes,—I, I,—Concho! You know me, Diego, you know me,—Concho, + the major-domo of the Blessed Innocents. Ha! You know me now. Yes, I + have come to save you. I have come to make you strong. So—I have + come to help you strip the Judas that has stepped into your place,—the + sham prodigal that has had the fatted calf and the ring,—ah! ah! + </p> + <p><br /> + Sandy. You? You do not know me! + </p> + <p><br /> + Concho. Ah! you think, you think, eh? Listen: Since you left I have + tracked HIM—THE IMPOSTOR, this Judas, this coyote—step by + step, until his tracks crossed yours; and then I sought you out. I know + all. I found a letter you had dropped; that brought me to Poker Flat. + Ah, you start! I have seen those who knew you as Alexander Morton. You + see! Ah, I am wise. + </p> + <p><br /> + Sandy (aside). It is true. (Aloud.) But (suspiciously) why have you done + this? You, Concho?—you were not my friend. + </p> + <p><br /> + Concho. No, but HE is my enemy. Ah, you start! Look at me, Alexander + Morton, Sandy, Diego! You knew a man, strong, active, like yourself. Eh! + Look at me now! Look at me, a cripple! Eh! lame and crushed here + (pointing to his leg), broken and crushed here (pointing to his heart), + by him,—the impostor! Listen, Diego. The night I was sent to track + you from the rancho, he—this man—struck me from the wall, + dashed me to the earth, and made MY BODY, broken and bruised, a + stepping-stone to leap the wall into your place, Diego,—into your + father's heart,—into my master's home. They found me dead, they + thought,—no, not dead, Diego! It was sad, they said,—unfortunate. + They nursed me; they talked of money—eh, Diego!—money! They + would have pensioned me to hush scandal—eh! I was a dog, a + foreigner, a Greaser! Eh! That is why I am here. No! I love you not, + Diego; you are of his race; but I hate—Mother of God!—I HATE + him! + </p> + <p><br /> + Sandy (rising to his feet, aside). Good! I begin to feel my courage + return: my nerves are stronger. Courage, Sandy! (Aloud.) Be it so, + Concho: there is my hand! We will help each other,—you to my + birthright, I to your revenge! Hark ye! (SANDY'S manner becomes more + calm and serious.) This impostor is NO craven, NO coyote. Whoever he is, + he must be strong. He has most plausible evidences. We must have rigid + proofs. I will go with you to Poker Flat. There is one man, if he be + living, knows me better than any man who lives. He has done me wrong,—a + great wrong, Concho,—but I will forgive him. I will do more,—I + will ask his forgiveness. He will be a witness no man dare gainsay—my + partner—God help him and forgive him as I do!—John Oakhurst. + </p> + <p><br /> + Concho. Oakhurst your partner! + </p> + <p><br /> + Sandy (angrily). Yes. Look ye, Concho, he has wronged me in a private + way: that is MY business, not YOURS; but he was MY partner, no one shall + abuse him before me. + </p> + <p><br /> + Concho. Be it so. Then sink here! Rot here! Go back to your husks, O + prodigal! wallow in the ditches of this camp, and see your birthright + sold for a dram of aguardiente! Lie here, dog and coyote that you are, + with your mistress under the protection of your destroyer! For I tell + you—I, Concho, the cripple—that the man who struck me down, + the man who stepped into your birthright, the man who to-morrow welcomes + your sweetheart in his arms, who holds the custody of your child, is + your partner,—John Oakhurst. + </p> + <p><br /> + Sandy (who has been sinking under CONCHO'S words, rising convulsively to + his feet). God be merciful to me a sinner! (Faints.) + </p> + <p><br /> + Concho (standing over his prostrate body exultingly). I am right. You + are wise, Concho, you are wise! You have found Alexander Morton! + </p> + <p><br /> + Hop Sing (advancing slowly to SANDY'S side, and extending open palm). Me + washee shirt flo you, flowty dozen hab. You no payee me. Me wantee + twenty dollar hep. Sabe! + </p> + <p><br /> + Curtain. + </p> + END OF ACT II. <a name="link2H_4_0006" id="link2H_4_0006"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + ACT III. + </h2> + <p><br /> + SCENE 1.—The bank parlor of Morton & Son, San Francisco. Room + richly furnished; two square library desks, left and right. At right, + safe in wall; at left, same with practicable doors. Folding door in flat + C., leading to counting-room. Door in left to private room of ALEXANDER + MORTON, sen.; door in right to private room of MORTON, jun. ALEXANDER + MORTON, sen., discovered at desk R., opening and reading letters. + </p> + <p><br /> + Morton, sen. (laying down letter). Well, well, the usual story; letters + from all sorts of people, who have done or intend to do all sorts of + things for my reclaimed prodigal. (Reads.) "Dear Sir: five years ago I + loaned some money to a stranger who answers the description of your + recovered son. He will remember Jim Parker,—Limping Jim, of Poker + Flat. Being at present short of funds, please send twenty dollars, + amount loaned, by return mail. If not convenient, five dollars will do + as instalment." Pshaw! (Throws letter aside, and takes up another.) + "Dear Sir: I invite your attention to enclosed circular for a proposed + Home for Dissipated and Anonymous Gold-Miners. Your well-known + reputation for liberality, and your late valuable experience in the + reformation of your son, will naturally enlist your broadest sympathies. + We enclose a draft for five thousand dollars, for your signature." We + shall see! Another: "Dear Sir: the Society for the Formation of Bible + Classes in the Upper Stanislaus acknowledge your recent munificent gift + of five hundred dollars to the cause. Last Sabbath Brother Hawkins of + Poker Flat related with touching effect the story of your prodigal to an + assemblage of over two hundred miners. Owing to unusual expenses, we + regret to be compelled to draw upon you for five hundred dollars more." + So! (Putting down letter.) If we were given to pride and vainglory, we + might well be puffed up with the fame of our works and the contagion of + our example: yet I fear that, with the worldly-minded, this praise of + charity to others is only the prayerful expectation of some personal + application to the praiser. (Rings hand-bell.) + </p> + <p><br /> + Enter JACKSON. + </p> + <p><br /> + (To JACKSON.) File these letters (handing letters) with the others. + There is no answer. Has young Mr. Alexander come in yet? + </p> + <p><br /> + Jackson. He only left here an hour ago. It was steamer day yesterday: he + was up all night, sir. + </p> + <p><br /> + Old Morton (aside). True. And the night before he travelled all night, + riding two hours ahead of one of our defaulting agents, and saved the + bank a hundred thousand dollars. Certainly his devotion to business is + unremitting. (Aloud.) Any news from Col. Starbottle? + </p> + <p><br /> + Jackson. He left this note, sir, early this morning. + </p> + <p><br /> + Old Morton (takes it, and reads). "I think I may say, on my own personal + responsibility, that the mission is successful. Miss Morris will arrive + to-night with a female attendant and child." (To JACKSON.) That is all, + sir. Stop! Has any one been smoking here? + </p> + <p><br /> + Jackson. Not to my knowledge, sir. + </p> + <p><br /> + Old Morton. There was a flavor of stale tobacco smoke in the room this + morning when I entered, and ashes on the carpet. I KNOW that young Mr. + Alexander has abandoned the pernicious habit. See that it does not occur + again. + </p> + <p><br /> + Jackson. Yes, sir. (Aside.) I must warn Mr. Alexander that his friends + must be more careful; and yet those ashes were good for a deposit of + fifty thousand. + </p> + <p><br /> + Old Morton. Is any one waiting? + </p> + <p><br /> + Jackson. Yes, sir,—Don Jose Castro and Mr. Capper. + </p> + <p><br /> + Old Morton. Show in the Don: the policeman can wait. + </p> + <p><br /> + Jackson. Yes, sir. [Exit. + </p> + <p><br /> + Old Morton (taking up STARBOTTLE'S note). "Miss Morris will arrive + to-night." And yet he saw her only yesterday. This is not like her + mother: no. She would never have forgiven and forgotten so quickly. + Perhaps she knew not my sin and her mother's wrongs; perhaps she has—has—CHRISTIAN + forgiveness (sarcastically); perhaps, like my prodigal, she will be + immaculately perfect. Well, well: at least her presence will make my + home less lonely. "An attendant and child." A child! Ah, if HE, my boy, + my Alexander, were still a child, I might warm this cold, cold heart in + his sunshine! Strange that I cannot reconstruct from this dutiful, + submissive, obedient, industrious Alexander,—this redeemed + outcast, this son who shares my life, my fortunes, my heart,—the + foolish, wilful, thoughtless, idle boy, that once defied me. I remember + (musing, with a smile) how the little rascal, ha, ha! once struck me,—STRUCK + ME!—when I corrected him: ha, ha! (Rubbing his hands with + amusement, and then suddenly becoming grave and lugubrious.) No, no. + These are the whisperings of the flesh. Why should I find fault with him + for being all that a righteous conversion demands,—all that I + asked and prayed for? No, Alexander Morton: it is you, YOU, who are not + yet regenerate. It is YOU who are ungrateful to Him who blessed you, to + Him whose guiding hand led you to— + </p> + <p><br /> + Enter JACKSON. + </p> + <p><br /> + Jackson. Don Jose Castro. + </p> + <p><br /> + Enter DON JOSE. + </p> + <p><br /> + Don Jose. A thousand pardons, senor, for interrupting you in the hours + of business; but it is—it is of business I would speak. (Looking + around.) + </p> + <p><br /> + Old Morton (to JACKSON). You can retire. (Exit JACKSON.) Be seated, Mr. + Castro: I am at your service. + </p> + <p><br /> + Don Jose. It is of your—your son— + </p> + <p><br /> + Old Morton. Our firm is Morton & Son: in business we are one, Mr. + Castro. + </p> + <p><br /> + Don Jose. Bueno! Then to you as to him I will speak. Here is a letter I + received yesterday. It has significance, importance perhaps. But, + whatever it is, it is something for you, not me, to know. If I am + wronged much, Don Alexandro, you, you, are wronged still more. Shall I + read it? Good. (Reads.) "The man to whom you have affianced your + daughter is not the son of Alexander Morton. Have a care. If I do not + prove him an impostor at the end of six days, believe me one, and not + your true friend and servant, Concho." In six days, Don Alexandro, the + year of probation is over, and I have promised my daughter's hand to + your son. (Hands letter to MORTON.) + </p> + <p><br /> + Old Morton (ringing bell). Is that all, Mr. Castro? + </p> + <p><br /> + Don Jose. All, Mr. Castro? Carramba! is it not enough? + </p> + <p><br /> + Enter JACKSON. + </p> + <p><br /> + Old Morton (to JACKSON). You have kept a record of this business during + the last eighteen months. Look at this letter. (Handing letter.) Is the + handwriting familiar? + </p> + <p><br /> + Jackson (taking letter). Can't say, sir. The form is the old one. + </p> + <p><br /> + Old Morton. How many such letters have you received? + </p> + <p><br /> + Jackson. Four hundred and forty-one, sir. This is the four hundred and + forty-second application for your son's position, sir. + </p> + <p><br /> + Don Jose. Pardon. This is not an application: it is only information or + caution. + </p> + <p><br /> + Old Morton (to JACKSON). How many letters of information or caution have + we received? + </p> + <p><br /> + Jackson. This makes seven hundred and eighty-one, sir. + </p> + <p><br /> + Old Morton. How, sir! (Quickly.) There were but seven hundred and + seventy-nine last night. + </p> + <p><br /> + Jackson. Beg pardon, sir! The gentleman who carried Mr. Alexander's + valise from the boat was the seven hundred and eightieth. + </p> + <p><br /> + Old Morton. Explain yourself, sir. + </p> + <p><br /> + Jackson. He imparted to me, while receiving his stipend, the fact that + he did not believe young Mr. Alexander was your son. An hour later, sir, + he also imparted to me confidentially that he believed you were his + father, and requested the loan of five dollars, to be repaid by you, to + enable him to purchase a clean shirt, and appear before you in + respectable condition. He waited for you an hour, and expressed some + indignation that he had not an equal show with others to throw himself + into your arms. + </p> + <p><br /> + Don Jose (rising, aside, and uplifting his hands). Carramba! These + Americanos are of the Devil! (Aloud.) Enough, Don Alexandro! Then you + think this letter is only worth— + </p> + <p><br /> + Old Morton. One moment. I can perhaps tell you exactly its market value. + (To JACKSON.) Go on, sir. + </p> + <p><br /> + Jackson. At half-past ten, sir, then being slightly under the influence + of liquor, he accepted the price of a deck passage to Stockton. + </p> + <p><br /> + Old Morton. How much was that, sir? + </p> + <p><br /> + Jackson. Fifty cents. + </p> + <p><br /> + Old Morton. Exactly so! There you have, sir (to DON JOSE), the market + value of the information you have received. I would advise you, as a + business matter, not to pay more. As a business matter, you can at any + time draw upon us for the amount. (To JACKSON.) Admit Mr. Capper. [Exit + JACKSON. + </p> + <p><br /> + Don Jose (rising with dignity). This is an insult, Don Alexandro. + </p> + <p><br /> + Old Morton. You are wrong, Mr. Castro: it is BUSINESS; sought, I + believe, by yourself. Now that it is transacted, I beg you to dine with + me to-morrow to meet my niece. No offence, sir, no offence. Come, come! + Business, you know, business. + </p> + <p><br /> + Don Jose (relaxing). Be it so! I will come. (Aside.) These Americanos, + these Americanos, are of the Devil! (Aloud.) Adios. (Going.) I hear, by + report, that you have met with the misfortune of a serious loss by + robbery? + </p> + <p><br /> + Old Morton (aside). So our mishap is known everywhere. (Aloud.) No + serious misfortune, Mr. Castro, even if we do not recover the money. + Adios. + </p> + <p><br /> + [Exit Don Jose. + </p> + <p><br /> + Old Morton. The stiff-necked Papist! That he should dare, for the sake + of his black-browed, froward daughter, to—question the faith on + which I have pinned my future! Well, with God's blessing, I gave him + some wholesome discipline. If it were not for my covenant with Alexander—and + nobly he has fulfilled his part,—I should forbid his alliance with + the blood of this spying Jesuit. + </p> + <p><br /> + Enter Mr. JACKSON, leading in CAPPER. + </p> + <p><br /> + Jackson. Policeman, sir. [Exit. + </p> + <p><br /> + Capper (turning sharply). Who's that man? + </p> + <p><br /> + Old Morton. Jackson, clerk. + </p> + <p><br /> + Capper. Umph! Been here long? + </p> + <p><br /> + Old Morton. A year. He was appointed by my son. + </p> + <p><br /> + Capper. Know anything of his previous life? + </p> + <p><br /> + Old Morton (stiffly). I have already told you he is an appointee of my + son's. + </p> + <p><br /> + Capper. Yes! (Aside.) "Like master, like man." (Aloud.) Well, to + business. We have worked up the robbery. We have reached two + conclusions,—one, that the work was not done by professionals; the + other, consequent upon this, that you can't recover the money. + </p> + <p><br /> + Old Morton. Excuse me, sir, but I do not see the last conclusion. + </p> + <p><br /> + Capper. Then listen. The professional thief has only one or two ways of + disposing of his plunder, and these ways are always well known to us. + Good! Your stolen coin has not been disposed of in the regular way, + through the usual hands which we could at any time seize. Of this we are + satisfied. + </p> + <p><br /> + Old Morton. How do you know it? + </p> + <p><br /> + Capper. In this way. The only clew we have to the identification of the + missing money were two boxes of Mexican doubloons. + </p> + <p><br /> + Old Morton (aside). Mr. Castro's special deposit! He may have reason for + his interest. (Aloud.) Go on. + </p> + <p><br /> + Capper. It is a coin rare in circulation in the interior. The night + after the robbery, the dealer of a monte-table in Sacramento paid out + five thousand dollars in doubloons. He declared it was taken in at the + table, and could not identify the players. Of course, OF COURSE! So far, + you see, you are helpless. We have only established one fact, that the + robber is—is—(significantly) a gambler. + </p> + <p><br /> + Old Morton (quietly). The regular trade of the thief seems to me to be + of little importance if you cannot identify him, or recover my money. + But go on, sir, go on: or is this all? + </p> + <p><br /> + Capper (aside). The old fool is blind. That is natural. (Aloud.) It is + not all. The crime will doubtless be repeated. The man who has access to + your vaults, who has taken only thirty thousand dollars when he could + have secured half a million,—this man, who has already gambled + that thirty thousand away,—will not stop there. He will in a day + or two, perhaps to-day, try to retrieve his losses out of YOUR capital. + I am here to prevent it. + </p> + <p><br /> + Old Morton (becoming interested). How? + </p> + <p><br /> + Capper. Give me, for forty-eight hours, free access to this building. + Let me conceal myself somewhere, anywhere, within these walls. Let it be + without the knowledge of your clerks, even of YOUR SON! + </p> + <p><br /> + Old Morton (proudly). Mr. Alexander Morton is absent to-day. There is no + other reason why he should not be here to consent to the acts of his + partner and father. + </p> + <p><br /> + Capper (quickly). Very good. It is only to insure absolute secrecy. + </p> + <p><br /> + Old Morton (aside). Another robbery might excite a suspicion, worse for + our credit than our actual loss. There is a significant earnestness + about this man, that awakens my fears. If Alexander were only here. + (Aloud.) I accept. (CAPPER has been trying doors R. and L.) + </p> + <p><br /> + Capper. What room is this? (At R.) + </p> + <p><br /> + Old Morton. My son's: I would prefer— + </p> + <p><br /> + Capper. And this? (At L.) + </p> + <p><br /> + Old Morton. Mine, sir; if you choose— + </p> + <p><br /> + Capper (locking door, and putting key in his pocket). This will do. + Oblige me by making the necessary arrangements in your counting-room. + </p> + <p><br /> + Old Morton (hesitating and aside). He is right: perhaps it is only + prudence, and I am saving Alexander additional care and annoyance. + [Exit. + </p> + <p><br /> + Enter MR. SHADOW cautiously, C. + </p> + <p><br /> + Shadow (in a lisping whisper to CAPPER). I've got the litht of the + clerkth complete. + </p> + <p><br /> + Capper (triumphantly). Put it in your pocket, Shadow. We don't care for + the lackeys now: we are after the master. + </p> + <p><br /> + Shadow. Eh! the mathter? + </p> + <p><br /> + Capper. Yes: the master,—the young master, the reclaimed son, the + reformed prodigal! ha, ha!—the young man who compensates himself + for all this austere devotion to business and principle by dipping into + the old man's vaults when he wants a pasear: eh, Shadow? That's the man + we're after. Look here! I never took any stock in that young man's + reformation. Ye don't teach old sports like him new tricks. They're a + bad lot, father and son,—eh, Shadow?—and he's a chip of the + old block. I spotted him before this robbery, before we were ever called + in here professionally. I've had my eye on Alexander Morton, alias John + Oakhurst; and, when I found the old man's doubloons raked over a + monte-table at Sacramento, I knew where to look for the thief. Eh, + Shadow? + </p> + <p><br /> + Shadow (aside). He ith enormouth, thith Mithter Capper. + </p> + <p><br /> + Enter OLD MORTON. + </p> + <p><br /> + Old Morton. I have arranged everything. You will not be disturbed or + suspected here in my private office. Eh! (Looking at SHADOW.) Who has + slipped in here? + </p> + <p><br /> + Capper. Only my Shadow, Mr. Morton; but I can rid myself even of that. + (Crosses to SHADOW.) Take this card to the office, and wait for further + orders. Vanish, Shadow! [Exit SHADOW. + </p> + <p><br /> + Enter JACKSON. + </p> + <p><br /> + Jackson. Mr. Alexander has come in, sir. (OLD MORTON and CAPPER start.) + </p> + <p><br /> + Old Morton. Where is he? + </p> + <p><br /> + Jackson. In his private room, sir. + </p> + <p><br /> + Old Morton. Enough: you can go. + </p> + <p><br /> + [Exit JACKSON. + </p> + <p><br /> + Capper (crossing to MORTON). Remember, you have given your pledge of + secrecy. Beware! Your honor, your property, the credit and reputation of + your bank, are at stake. + </p> + <p><br /> + Old Morton (after a pause of hesitation, with dignity). I gave you my + word, sir, while my son was not present. I shall save myself from + breaking my word with you, or concealing anything from him, by + withdrawing myself. For the next twenty-four hours, this room (pointing + to private room R.) is yours. + </p> + <p><br /> + Each regards the other. Exit OLD MORTON C., as CAPPER exit in private + room R. After a pause, door of room L. opens, and HARRY YORK appears, + slightly intoxicated, followed by JOHN OAKHURST. + </p> + <p><br /> + Harry York (looking around). By Jove! Morton, but you've got things in + style here. And this yer's the gov'nor's desk; and here old Praise god + Barebones sits opposite ye. Look yer, old boy (throwing himself in + chair), I kin allow how it comes easy for ye to run this bank, for it's + about as exciting, these times, as faro was to ye in '49, when I first + knew ye as Jack Oakhurst; but how the Devil you can sit opposite that + stiff embodiment of all the Ten Commandments, day by day, damn it! + that's wot GETS me! Why, the first day I came here on business, the old + man froze me so that I couldn't thaw a deposit out of my pocket. It + chills me to think of it. + </p> + <p><br /> + Oakhurst (hastily). I suppose I am accustomed to him. But come, Harry: + let me warm you. (Opens door of safe L., and discovers cupboard, + decanter, and glasses.) + </p> + <p><br /> + York (laughing). By Jove! under the old man's very nose. Jack, this is + like you. (Takes a drink.) Well, old boy, this is like old times. But + you don't drink? + </p> + <p><br /> + Oakhurst. No, nor smoke. The fact is, Harry, I've taken a year's pledge. + I've six days still to run; after that (gloomily), why (with a reckless + laugh), I shall be Jack Oakhurst again. + </p> + <p><br /> + York. Lord! to think of your turning out to be anybody's son, Jack!—least + of all, HIS! (Pointing to chair.) + </p> + <p><br /> + Oakhurst (laughing recklessly). Not more strange than that I should find + Harry York, the spendthrift of Poker Flat, the rich and respected Mr. + York, produce merchant of San Francisco. + </p> + <p><br /> + York. Yes; but, my boy, you see I didn't strike it—in a rich + father. I gave up gambling, married, and settled down, saved my money, + invested a little here and there, and—worked for it, Jack, damn + me,—worked for it like a damned horse! + </p> + <p><br /> + Oakhurst (aside). True, this is not work. + </p> + <p><br /> + York. But that ain't my business with ye now, old boy: it's this. You've + had some trials and troubles in the bank lately,—a defalcation of + agents one day, a robbery next. It's luck, my boy, luck! but ye know + people will talk. You don't mind my sayin' that there's rumors 'round. + The old man's mighty unpopular because he's a saint; and folks don't + entirely fancy you because you used to be the reverse. Well, Jack, it + amounts to 'bout this: I've withdrawn my account from Parkinson's, in + Sacramento, and I've got a pretty heavy balance on hand—nigh on + two hundred thousand—in bonds and certificates here; and if it + will help you over the rough places, old boy, as a deposit, yer it is + (drawing pocket-book.) + </p> + <p><br /> + Oakhurst (greatly affected, but endeavoring to conceal it). Thank you, + Harry, old fellow—but— + </p> + <p><br /> + York (quickly). I know: I'll take the risk, a business risk. You'll + stand by me all you can, old boy; you'll make it pay all you can; and if + you lose it—why—all right! + </p> + <p><br /> + Oakhurst (embarrassed). As a deposit with Morton & Son, drawing two + per cent monthly interest— + </p> + <p><br /> + York. Damn Morton & Son! I'll back it with Jack Oakhurst, the man I + know. + </p> + <p><br /> + Oakhurst (advancing slowly). I'll take it, Harry. + </p> + <p><br /> + York (extending his hand). It's a square game, Jack! + </p> + <p><br /> + Oakhurst (seizing his hand with repressed emotion). It's a square game, + Harry York, if I live. + </p> + <p><br /> + York. Then I'll travel. Good-night, old boy. I'll send my clerk around + in the morning to put things right. Good-night (going). + </p> + <p><br /> + Oakhurst (grasping YORK'S hand). One moment—no—nothing! + Good-night. [Exit YORK. + </p> + <p><br /> + OAKHURST follows him to door, and then returns to desk, throwing himself + in chair, and burying his face in his hands. + </p> + <p><br /> + Oakhurst (with deep feeling). It needed but this to fill the measure of + my degradation. I have borne the suspicions of the old man's enemies, + the half-pitying, half-contemptuous sympathy of his friends, even his + own cold, heartless, fanatical fulfilment of his sense of duty; but THIS—this + confidence from one who had most reason to scorn me, this trust from one + who knew me as I WAS,—this is the hardest burden. And he, too, in + time will know me to be an impostor. He too—a reformed man; but he + has honorably retraced his steps, and won the position I hold by a + trick, an imposture. And what is all my labor beside his honest + sincerity? I have fought against the chances that might discover my + deception, against the enemies who would overthrow me, against the fate + that put me here; and I have been successful—yes, a successful + impostor! I have even fought against the human instinct that told this + fierce, foolish old man that I was an alien to his house, to his blood; + I have even felt him scan my face eagerly for some reflection of his + long-lost boy, for some realization of his dream; and I have seen him + turn away, cold, heartsick, and despairing. What matters that I have + been to him devoted, untiring, submissive, ay, a better son to him than + his own weak flesh and blood would have been? He would to-morrow cast me + forth to welcome the outcast, Sandy Morton. Well, what matters? + (Recklessly.) Nothing. In six days it will be over; in six days the year + of my probation will have passed; in six days I will disclose to him the + deceit I have practised, and will face the world again as John Oakhurst, + the gambler, who staked and lost ALL on a single cast. And Jovita! Well, + well!—the game is made: it is too late to draw out now. (Rings + bell. Enter JACKSON.) Who has been here? + </p> + <p><br /> + Jackson. Only Don Jose, and Mr. Capper, the detective. + </p> + <p><br /> + Oakhurst. The detective? What for? + </p> + <p><br /> + Jackson. To work up the robbery, sir. + </p> + <p><br /> + Oakhurst. True! Capper, Capper, yes! A man of wild and ridiculous + theories, but well-meaning, brave, and honest. (Aside.) This is the old + man's idea. He does not know that I was on the trail of the thieves an + hour before the police were notified. (Aloud.) Well, sir? + </p> + <p><br /> + Jackson. He told your father he thought the recovery of the money + hopeless, but he came to caution us against a second attempt. + </p> + <p><br /> + Oakhurst (aside, starting). True! I had not thought of that. + (Excitedly.) The success of their first attempt will incite them to + another; the money they have stolen is gone by this time. (Aloud.) + Jackson, I will stay here to-night and to-morrow night, and relieve your + regular watchman. You will, of course, say nothing of my intention. + </p> + <p><br /> + Jackson. Yes, sir. (Lingering.) + </p> + <p><br /> + Oakhurst (after a pause). That is all, Mr. Jackson. + </p> + <p><br /> + Jackson. Beg your pardon, Mr. Morton; but Col. Starbottle, with two + ladies, was here half an hour ago, and said they would come again when + you were alone. + </p> + <p><br /> + Oakhurst. Very well: admit them. + </p> + <p><br /> + Jackson. Beg pardon, sir; but they seemed to avoid seeing your father + until they had seen you. It looked mysterious, and I thought I would + tell you first. + </p> + <p><br /> + Oakhurst (laughing). Admit them, Mr. Jackson. (Exit JACKSON.) This poor + fellow's devotion is increasing. He, too, believes that his old + associate in dissipation, John Oakhurst, IS the son of Alexander Morton. + He, too, will have to share in the disgrace of the impostor. Ladies! + umph! (Looking down at his clothes.) I'm afraid the reform of Alexander + Morton hasn't improved the usual neatness of John Oakhurst. I haven't + slept, nor changed my clothes, for three days. (Goes to door of MORTON, + sen.'s, room.) Locked, and the key on the inside! That's strange. + Nonsense! the old man has locked his door and gone out through the + private entrance. Well, I'll find means of making my toilet here. [Exit + into private room L. + </p> + <p><br /> + Enter JACKSON, leading in COL. STARBOTTLE, MISS MARY, the DUCHESS, and + child of three years. + </p> + <p><br /> + Jackson. Mr. Alexander Morton, jun., is in his private room. He will be + here in a moment. [Exit JACKSON. + </p> + <p><br /> + Starbottle. One moment, a single moment, Miss Mary. Permit me to—er—if + I may so express myself, to—er—group the party, to—er—place + the—er—present company into position. I have—er—observed + as part of my—er—legal experience, that in cases of moral + illustration a great, I may say—er—tremendous, effect on the—er—jury, + I mean the—er—guilty party, has been produced by the + attitude of the—er—victim and martyr. You, madam, as the—er—injured + wife (placing her), shall stand here, firm yet expectant, protecting + your child, yet looking hopefully for assistance toward its natural + protector. You, Miss Mary, shall stand here (placing her), as Moral + Retribution, leaning toward and slightly appealing to me, the image of—er—er—Inflexible + Justice! (Inflates his chest, puts his hand in his bosom, and strikes an + attitude.) + </p> + <p><br /> + Door of young Morton's room opens, and discloses MR. OAKHURST gazing at + the group. He starts slightly on observing the DUCHESS, but instantly + recovers himself, and faces the company coldly. The DUCHESS starts on + observing OAKHURST, and struggles in confusion towards the door, + dragging with her the child and MISS MARY, who endeavors to re-assure + her. COL. STARBOTTLE looks in astonishment from one to the other, and + advances to front. + </p> + <p><br /> + Col. Starbottle (aside). The—er—tableau, although striking + in moral force, is apparently—er—deficient in moral stamina. + </p> + <p><br /> + Miss Mary (angrily to the DUCHESS). I'm ashamed of you! (To OAKHURST, + advancing.) I don't ask pardon for my intrusion. If you are Alexander + Morton, you are my kinsman, and you will know that I cannot introduce + myself better than as the protector of an injured woman. Come here! (To + the DUCHESS, dragging her towards OAKHURST. To OAKHURST.) Look upon this + woman: she claims to be— + </p> + <p><br /> + Starbottle (stepping between MISS MARY and the DUCHESS). A moment, Miss + Mary, a single moment! Permit me to—er—explain. The whole + thing, the—er—situation reminds me, demn me, of most amusing + incident at Sacramento in '52. Large party at Hank Suedecois: know Hank? + Confirmed old bach of sixty. Dinner for forty. Everything in style, + first families, Ged,—Judge Beeswinger, Mat Boompointer, and Maje + Blodgett of Ahlabam: know old Maje Blodgett? Well, Maje was there. Ged, + sir, delay,—everybody waiting. I went to Hank. "Hank," I says, + "what's matter? why delay?"—"Star," he says,—always called + me Star,—"Star,—it's cook!"—"Demn cook," I says: + "discharge cook,—only a black mulatto anyway!"—"Can't, + Star," he says: "impossible!"—"Can't?" says I.—"No," says + he. "Listen, Star," he says, "family secret! Honor! Can't discharge + cook, because cook—demn it—'s MY wife!" Fact, sir, fact—showed + marriage certificate—married privately seven years! Fact, sir— + </p> + <p><br /> + The Duchess (to MISS MARY). Some other time, miss, let us go now. + There's a mistake, miss, I can't explain. Some other time, miss! See, + miss, how cold and stern he looks! another time, miss! (Struggling.) For + God's sake, miss, let me go! + </p> + <p><br /> + Miss Mary. No! This mystery must be cleared up now, before I enter HIS + house,—before I accept the charge of this— + </p> + <p><br /> + Starbottle (interrupting, and crossing before MISS MARY). A moment—a + single moment, miss. (To OAKHURST.) Mr. Morton, you will pardon the + exuberance, and perhaps, under the circumstances, somewhat natural + impulsiveness, of the—er—sex, for which I am perhaps + responsible; I may say—er—personally, sir,—personally + responsible— + </p> + <p><br /> + Oakhurst (coldly). Go on, sir. + </p> + <p><br /> + Starbottle. The lady on my right is—er—the niece of your + father,—your cousin. The lady on my left, engaged in soothing the—er—bashful + timidity of infancy, is—er—that is—er—claims to + be, the mother of the child of Alexander Morton. + </p> + <p><br /> + Oakhurst (calmly). She is right. + </p> + <p><br /> + Miss Mary (rushing forward). Then you are— + </p> + <p><br /> + Oakhurst (gently restraining her). You have another question to ask: you + hesitate: let me ask it. (Crossing to the DUCHESS.) You have heard my + answer. Madam, are you the legal wife of Alexander Morton? + </p> + <p><br /> + The Duchess (sinking upon her knees, and dropping her face in her + hands). No! + </p> + <p><br /> + Oakhurst. Enough: I will take the child. Pardon me, Miss Morris, but you + have heard enough to know that your mission is accomplished, but what + else passes between this woman and myself becomes no stranger to hear. + (Motions toward room L.) + </p> + <p><br /> + Miss Mary (aside). It is HIS son. I am satisfied (going). Come, colonel. + </p> + <p><br /> + [Exeunt into room L., STARBOTTLE and MISS MARY. + </p> + <p><br /> + The Duchess (crossing to OAKHURST, and falling at his feet). Forgive me, + Jack, forgive me! It was no fault of mine. I did not know that you were + here. I did not know that you had taken his name! + </p> + <p><br /> + Oakhurst. Hush—on your life! + </p> + <p><br /> + The Duchess. Hear me, Jack! I was anxious only for a home for my child. + I came to HER—the schoolmistress of Red Gulch—for aid. I + told her the name of my boy's father. She—she brought me here. Oh, + forgive me, Jack! I have offended you! + </p> + <p><br /> + Oakhurst. How can I believe you? You have deceived HIM. You have + deceived me. Listen! When I said, a moment ago, you were not the wife of + Alexander Morton, it was because I knew that your first husband—the + Australian convict Pritchard—was still living; that you had + deceived Sandy Morton as you had deceived me. That was why I left you. + Tell me, have you deceived me also about him, as you did about the + other? Is HE living, and with you; or dead, as you declared. + </p> + <p><br /> + The Duchess (aside). He will kill me if I tell him. (Aloud.) No, no. He + is gone—is dead these three years. + </p> + <p><br /> + Oakhurst. You swear! + </p> + <p><br /> + The Duchess (hesitates, gasps, and looks around for her child; then + seizing it, and drawing it toward her). I—swear. + </p> + <p><br /> + Oakhurst. Enough. Seek not to know why I am here, and under his name. + Enough for you that it has saved your child's future, and secured him + his heritage past all revocation. Yet remember! a word from you within + the next few days destroys it all. After that, I care not what you say. + </p> + <p><br /> + The Duchess. Jack! One word, Jack, before I go. I never thought to bring + my shame to you!—to HIM! + </p> + <p><br /> + Oakhurst. It was no trick, then, no contrivance, that brought her here. + No: it was fate. And at least I shall save his child. + </p> + <p><br /> + Re-enter STARBOTTLE, MISS MARY, and DUCHESS. + </p> + <p><br /> + Col. Starbottle (impressively). Permit me, Mr. Alexander Morton, as the + friend of my—er—principal to declare that we have received—honorable—honorable—satisfaction. + Allow me, sir, to grasp the hand, the—er—cherished hand of a + gentleman who, demn me! has fulfilled all his duties to—er—society + and gentlemen. And allow me to add, sir, should any invidious criticism + of the present—er—settlement be uttered in my presence, I + shall hold that critic responsible, sir—er—personally + responsible! + </p> + <p><br /> + Miss Mary (sweeping truculently and aggressively up to JOHN OAKHURST). + And permit ME to add, sir, that, if you can see your way clearly out of + this wretched muddle, it's more than I can. This arrangement may be + according to the Californian code of morality, but it doesn't accord + with my Eastern ideas of right and wrong. If this foolish, wretched + creature chooses to abandon all claim upon you, chooses to run away from + you,—why, I suppose, as a GENTLEMAN, according to your laws of + honor, you are absolved. Good-night, Mr. Alexander Morton. (Goes to door + C., and exit, pushing out STARBOTTLE, the DUCHESS, and child. MR. + OAKHURST sinks into chair at desk, burying his face in his hands. + Re-enter slowly and embarrassedly, MISS MARY: looks toward OAKHURST, and + comes slowly down stage.) + </p> + <p><br /> + Miss Mary (aside). I was too hard on him. I was not so hard on Sandy + when I thought that he—he—was the father of her child. And + he's my own flesh and blood, too; and—he's crying. (Aloud.) Mr. + Morton. + </p> + <p><br /> + Oakhurst (slowly lifting his head). Yes; Miss Mary. + </p> + <p><br /> + Miss Mary. I spoke hastily just then. I—I—thought—you + see—I—(angrily and passionately) I mean this. I'm a + stranger. I don't understand your Californian ways, and I don't want to. + But I believe you've done what you thought was right, according to a + MAN'S idea of right; and—there's my hand. Take it, take it; for + it's a novelty, Mr. Morton: it's the hand of an honest girl! + </p> + <p><br /> + Oakhurst (hesitates, then rises, sinks on one knee, and raises MISS + MARY'S fingers to his lips). God bless you, miss! God bless you! + </p> + <p><br /> + Miss Mary (retreating to centre door). Good-night, good-night (slowly),—cousin—Alexander. + [Exit. Dark stage. + </p> + <p><br /> + Oakhurst (rising swiftly). No, no: it is false! Ah! She's gone. Another + moment, and I would have told her all. Pshaw! courage, man! It is only + six days more, and you are free, and this year's shame and agony forever + ended. + </p> + <p><br /> + Enter JACKSON. + </p> + <p><br /> + Jackson. As you ordered, sir, the night watchman has been relieved, and + has just gone. + </p> + <p><br /> + Oakhurst. Very good, sir; and you? + </p> + <p><br /> + Jackson. I relieved the porter, sir; and I shall bunk on two chairs in + the counting-room. You'll find me handy if you want me, sir. Good-night, + sir. [Exit C. + </p> + <p><br /> + Oakhurst. I fear these rascals will not dare to make their second + attempt to-night. A quiet scrimmage with them, enough to keep me awake + or from thinking, would be a good fortune. No, no! no such luck for you + to-night, John Oakhurst! You are playing a losing game.... Yet the + robbery was a bold one. At eleven o'clock, while the bank was yet + lighted, and Mr. Jackson and another clerk were at work here, three + well-dressed men pick the lock of the counting-house door, enter, and + turn the key on the clerks in this parlor, and carry away a box of + doubloons not yet placed in the vaults by the porter; and all this done + so cautiously that the clerks within knew nothing of it until notified + of the open street door by the private watchman, and so boldly that the + watchman, seeing them here, believed them clerks of the bank, and let + them go unmolested. No: this was the coincidence of good luck, not of + bold premeditation. There will be no second attempt. (Yawns.) If they + don't come soon I shall fall asleep. Four nights without rest will tell + on a man, unless he has some excitement to back him. (Nods.) Hallo! What + was that? Oh! Jackson in the counting-room getting to bed. I'll look at + that front door myself. (Takes revolver from desk and goes to door C., + tries lock, comes down stage with revolver, examines it, and lays it + down.) + </p> + <p><br /> + Oakhurst (slowly and quietly.) The door is locked on the outside: that + may have been an accident. The caps are taken from my pistol: THAT was + not! Well, here is the vault, and here is John Oakhurst: to reach the + one, they must pass the other. + </p> + <p><br /> + (Takes off his coat, seizes poker from grate, and approaches safe.) Ha! + some one is moving in the old man's room. (Approaches door of room R. as— + </p> + <p><br /> + Enter noiselessly and cautiously from room L., PRITCHARD, SILKY, and + SOAPY. PRITCHARD and his confederates approach OAKHURST from behind, + carrying lariat, or slip-noose. + </p> + <p><br /> + Oakhurst (listening at door R.) Good. At least I know from what quarter + to expect the attack. Ah! + </p> + <p><br /> + PRITCHARD throws slip-noose over OAKHURST from behind; OAKHURST puts his + hand in his breast as the slip-noose is drawn across his bosom, + pinioning one arm over his breast, and the other at his side. SILKY and + SOAPY, directed by PRITCHARD, drag OAKHURST to chair facing front, and + pinion his legs. PRITCHARD, C., regarding him. + </p> + <p><br /> + Oakhurst (very coolly). You have left me my voice, I suppose, because it + is useless. + </p> + <p><br /> + Pritchard. That's so, pard. 'Twon't be no help to ye. + </p> + <p><br /> + Oakhurst. Then you have killed Jackson. + </p> + <p><br /> + Pritchard. Lord love ye, no! That ain't like us, pard! Jackson's tendin' + door for us, and kinder lookin' out gin'rally for the boys. Thar's + nothin' mean about Jackson. + </p> + <p><br /> + Soapy. No! Jackson's a squar man. Eh, Silky? + </p> + <p><br /> + Silky. Ez white a man ez they is, pard! + </p> + <p><br /> + Oakhurst (aside). The traitor! (Aloud.) Well! + </p> + <p><br /> + Pritchard. Well, you want ter know our business. Call upon a business + man in business hours. Our little game is this, Mr. Jack Morton + Alexander Oakhurst. When we was here the other night, we was wantin' a + key to that theer lock (pointing to vault), and we sorter dropped in + passin' to get it. + </p> + <p><br /> + Oakhurst. And suppose I refuse to give it up? + </p> + <p><br /> + Pritchard. We were kalkilatin' on yer bein' even that impolite: wasn't + we, boys? + </p> + <p><br /> + Silky and Soapy. We was that. + </p> + <p><br /> + Pritchard. And so we got Mr. Jackson to take an impression of it in wax. + Oh, he's a squar man—is Mr. Jackson! + </p> + <p><br /> + Silky. Jackson is a white man, Soapy! + </p> + <p><br /> + Soapy. They don't make no better men nor Jackson, Silky. + </p> + <p><br /> + Pritchard. And we've got a duplicate key here. But we don't want any + differences, pard: we only want a squar game. It seemed to us—some + of your old pards as knew ye, Jack—that ye had a rather soft thing + here, reformin'; and we thought ye was kinder throwin' off on the boys, + not givin' 'em any hand in the game. But thar ain't anythin' mean about + us. Eh, boys? + </p> + <p><br /> + Soapy. We is allers ready to chip in ekal in the game. Eh, Silky? + </p> + <p><br /> + Silky. That's me, Soapy. + </p> + <p><br /> + Pritchard. Ye see, the boys is free and open-handed, Jack. And so the + proposition we wanter make to ye, Jack, is this. It's reg'lar on the + squar. We reckon, takin' Mr. Jackson's word,—and thar ain't no + man's word ez is better nor Jackson's,—that there's nigh on to two + millions in that vault, not to speak of a little speshil deposit o' + York's, ez we learn from that accommodatin' friend, Mr. Jackson. We + propose to share it with ye, on ekil terms—us five—countin' + Jackson, a square man. In course, we takes the risk o' packin' it away + to-night comfortable. Ez your friends, Jack, we allow this yer little + arrangement to be a deuced sight easier for you than playin' Sandy + Morton on a riglar salary, with the chance o' the real Sandy poppin' in + upon ye any night. + </p> + <p><br /> + Oakkurst. It's a lie. Sandy is dead. + </p> + <p><br /> + Pritchard. In course, in course; that is your little game! But we + kalkilated, Jack, even on that, on yer bein' rambunktious and contrary; + and so we went ter Red Gulch, and found Sandy. Ye know I take a kind o' + interest in Sandy: he's the second husband of my wife, the woman you run + away with, pard. But thar's nothin' mean about me! eh, boys? + </p> + <p><br /> + Silky. No! he's the forgivingest kind of a man, is Pritchard. + </p> + <p><br /> + Soapy. That's so, Silky. + </p> + <p><br /> + Pritchard. And, thinkin' ye might be dubious, we filled Sandy about full + o' rye whiskey, and brought him along; and one of our pards is + preambulatin' the streets with him, ready to bring him on call. + </p> + <p><br /> + Oakhurst. It's a lie, Pritchard,—a cowardly lie! + </p> + <p><br /> + Pritchard. Is it? Hush! + </p> + <p><br /> + Sandy (without, singing),— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Oh, yer's yer Sandy Morton, + Drink him down! + Oh, yer's yer Sandy Morton, + Drink him down! + Oh, yer's yer Sandy Morton, + All alive and just a-snortin'! + Oh, yer's yer Sandy Morton, + Drink him down! +</pre> + <p><br /> + Pritchard. We don't propose to run him in yer, cept we're took, or yer + unaccommodatin' to the boys. + </p> + <p><br /> + Oakhurst. And if I refuse? + </p> + <p><br /> + Pritchard. Why, we'll take what we can get; and we'll leave Sandy Morton + with you yer, to sorter alleviate the old man's feelin's over the loss + of his money. There's nothin' mean about us; no! eh, boys? (Going toward + safe.) + </p> + <p><br /> + Oakhurst. Hear me a moment, Henry Pritchard. (PRITCHARD stops abreast of + OAKHURST.) Four years ago you were assaulted in the Arcade Saloon in + Sacramento. You would have been killed, but your assailant suddenly fell + dead by a pistol-shot fired from some unknown hand. I stood twenty feet + from you with folded arms; but that shot was fired by me,—me, + Henry Pritchard,—through my clothes, from a derringer hidden in my + waistcoat! Understand me, I do not ask your gratitude now. But that + pistol is in my right hand, and now covers you. Make a single motion,—of + a muscle,—and it is your last. + </p> + <p><br /> + Pritchard (motionless, but excitedly). You dare not fire! No, dare not! + A shot here will bring my pal and Sandy Morton to confront you. You will + have killed me to save exposure, have added murder to imposture! You + have no witness to this attempt! + </p> + <p><br /> + Capper (opening door of room L., at the same moment that two policemen + appear at door C., and two at room R). You are wrong: he has five + (crossing to SILKY and SOAPY, and laying his hands on their shoulders); + and, if I mistake not, he has two more in these gentlemen, whom I know, + and who will be quite as willing to furnish the necessary State's + evidence of the robbery, as of the fact that they never knew any other + Alexander Morton than the gentleman who sits in that chair. + </p> + <p><br /> + Soapy. That's so, Silky. + </p> + <p><br /> + Silky. That's so, Soapy. + </p> + <p><br /> + Capper (to policemen). Take them away. + </p> + <p><br /> + [Exit policemen with PRITCHARD, SOAPY, and SILKY. CAPPER unbinds + OAKHURST. + </p> + <p><br /> + Oakhurst. Then I have to thank you, Mr. C. + </p> + <p><br /> + Capper. Yes! "A man of ridiculous theories, but well-meaning, brave, and + honest." No, sir; don't apologize: you were right, Mr. Oakhurst. It is I + who owe you an apology. I came here, believing YOU were the robber, + having no faith in you or your reformation, expecting,—yes, sir,—hoping, + to detect you in the act. Hear me! From the hour you first entered the + bank, I have shadowed your every movement, I have been the silent + witness of all that has passed in this room. You have played a desperate + game, Mr. Oakhurst; but I'll see you through it. If you are true to your + resolve, for the next six days, I will hold these wretches silent. I + will protect your imposture with the strong arm of the law. I don't like + YOUR theories, sir; but I believe you to be well-meaning, and I know you + to be brave and honest. + </p> + <p><br /> + Oakhurst (grasping his hand). I shall not forget this. But Sandy— + </p> + <p><br /> + Capper. I will put my men on his track, and have him brought quietly + here. I can give you no aid beyond that. As an honorable man, I need not + tell you your duty. Settle it with him as best you can. + </p> + <p><br /> + Oakhurst. You are right; I WILL see him. (Aside.) Unless he has changed, + he will listen to me, he will obey me. + </p> + <p><br /> + Capper. Hush! (Blows out candle.) Stand here! + </p> + <p><br /> + CAPPER and OAKHURST retreat to wing L., as enter MORTON, sen., from room + R. + </p> + <p><br /> + Morton. The private door open, the room dark, and Capper gone. I don't + like this. The more I think of the mystery of that man's manner this + morning, the more it seems to hide some terrible secret I must fathom! + There are matches here. (Strikes a light, as CAPPER draws OAKHURST, + struggling, back into shadow.) What's this? (Picking up key.) The key of + the vault. A chair overturned. (Touches bell.) No answer! Jackson gone! + My God! A terrible suspicion haunts me! No. Hush! (Retreats to private + room R., as door of L. opens and—) + </p> + <p><br /> + Enter SANDY. + </p> + <p><br /> + Sandy (drunkenly). Shoo! Shoo! boys, whar are ye, boys, eh? Pritchard, + Silky, Soapy! Whar are ye, boys? + </p> + <p><br /> + Morton (aside). A crime has been committed, and here is one of the gang. + God has delivered him in my hands. (Draws revolver, and fires, as + OAKHURST breaks from CAPPER, and strikes up MORTON'S pistol. CAPPER at + same moment seizes SANDY, and drags him in room L. MORTON and OAKHURST + struggle to centre.) + </p> + <p><br /> + Morton (relaxing hold of OAKHURST). Alexander! Good God! Why are you + here? Why have you stepped between me and retribution? You hesitate. God + in heaven! Speak, Alexander, my son, speak for God's sake! Tell me—tell + me that this detective's suspicions are not true. Tell me that you are + not—not—no, I cannot say it. Speak, Alexander Morton, I + command you! Who is this man you have saved? Is it—is it—your + accomplice? + </p> + <p><br /> + Oakhurst (sinking at his feet). Don't ask me! You know not what you ask! + I implore you— + </p> + <p><br /> + Capper (appearing quietly from room L., and locking the door behind + him). Your son has acted under MY orders. The man he has saved, as he + has saved you, was a decoy,—one of my policemen. + </p> + TABLEAU. CAPPER, MORTON, OAKHURST. + <p><br /> + Curtain. + </p> + END OF ACT III. <a name="link2H_4_0007" id="link2H_4_0007"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + ACT IV. + </h2> + <p><br /> + SCENE 1.—MR. MORTON'S villa, Russian Hill, Night. OAKHURST'S + bedroom. Sofa in alcove C., door in flat left of C. SANDY MORTON + discovered, unconscious, lying on sofa; OAKHURST standing at his head, + two policemen at his feet. Candles on table L. + </p> + <p><br /> + Oakhurst. That will do. You are sure he was unconscious as you brought + him in? + </p> + <p><br /> + First Policeman. Sure, sir? He hasn't known anything since we picked him + up on the sidewalk outside the bank. + </p> + <p><br /> + Oakhurst. Good! You have fulfilled your orders well, and your chief + shall know it. Go now. Be as cautious in going out as you were on + entering. Here is the private staircase. (Opens door L.) [Exit + policeman. + </p> + <p><br /> + Oakhurst (listening). Gone! and without disturbing any one. So far, luck + has befriended me. He will sleep to-night beneath his father's roof. His + father! umph! would the old man recognize him here? Would he take to his + heart this drunken outcast, picked from the gutters of the street, and + brought here by the strong arm of the law? Hush! (A knock without.) Ah, + it is the colonel: he is prompt to the hour. (Opens door cautiously, and + admits COL. STARBOTTLE.) + </p> + <p><br /> + Starbottle (looking around, and overlooking SANDY). I presume the other—er—principal + is not yet on the ground? + </p> + <p><br /> + Oakhurst (motioning to sofa). He IS! + </p> + <p><br /> + Starbottle (starting as he looks towards sofa). Ged, you don't mean to + say it's all OVER, without witnesses, without my—er—presence? + </p> + <p><br /> + Oakhurst. Pardon me, Col. Starbottle; but, if you look again, you will + perceive that the gentleman is only drunk. + </p> + <p><br /> + Starbottle. Eh? Ged! not uncommon, sir, not uncommon! I remember + singular incident at—er—Louisville in '47. Old Judge Tollim—know + old Judge Tolly?—Ged! he came to ground drunk, sir; couldn't + stand! Demn me, sir, had to put him into position with kitchen poker + down his back, and two sections of lightning-rod in his—er—trousers, + demn me! Firm, sir, firm, you understand, here (striking his breast), + but—here (striking his legs)—er—er—wobbly! No, + sir! Intoxication of principal not a bar, sir, to personal satisfaction! + (Goes towards sofa with eyeglass.) Good Ged! why, it's Diego! (Returning + stifly to OAKHURST.) Excuse me, sir, but this is a case in which I + cannot act. Cannot, sir,—impossible! absurd! pre—post—or—ous! + I recogmze in the—er—inebriated menial on yonder sofa a + person, sir, who, having already declined my personal challenge, is—er—excluded + from the consideration of gentlemen. The person who lies there, sir, is + Diego,—a menial of Don Jose Castro,—-alias "Sandy," the + vagabond of Red Gulch. + </p> + <p><br /> + Oakhurst. You have omitted one title, his true one. He is Alexander + Morton, the son of the master of this house. + </p> + <p><br /> + Starbottle (starting in bewilderment). Alexander Morton! (Aside.) Ged! + my first suspicions were correct. Star, you have lost the opportunity of + making your fortune as a scoundrel; but you have at a pecuniary + sacrifice, preserved your honor. + </p> + <p><br /> + Oakhurst. Yes. Hear me, Col. Starbottle. I have summoned you here + to-night, as I have already intimated, on an affair of honor. I have + sought you as my father's legal counsel, as a disinterested witness, as + a gentleman of honor. The man who lies before you was once my friend and + partner. I have wronged him doubly. As his partner, I ran away with the + woman he believed, and still believes, to be his wife; as his friend, I + have for a twelvemonth kept him from the enjoyment of his home, his + patrimony, by a shameful deception. I have summoned you to-night to + witness my confession; as a lawyer, to arrange those details necessary + to restore to him his property; as a man of honor, to receive from me + whatever retribution he demands. You will be a witness to our interview. + Whatever befalls me here, you will explain to Mr. Morton—to Jovita—that + I accepted it as a man, and did not avoid, here or elsewhere, the + penalty of my crime. (Folding his arms.) + </p> + <p><br /> + Slarbottle. Umph! The case is, as you say, a delicate one, but not—not—peculiar. + No, sir! Ged, sir, I remember Tom Marshall—know Tom Marshall of + Kentucky?—said to me, "Star!"—always calls me Star,—"how + in blank, sir, can you remember the REAL names of your clients?"—"Why," + says I, "Tom," always called him Tom,—"yesterday I was called to + make will—most distinguished family of Virginia—as lawyer + and gentleman, you understand: can't mention name. Waited for signature—most + distinguished name: Ged, sir, man signed Bloggins,—Peter Bloggins. + Fact, demme! 'Mistake,' I said,—'excitement; exaltation of fever. + Non compos. Compose yourself, Bob.'—'Star,' he said,—always + called me Star,—'for forty-seven years I have been an impostor!'—his + very words, sir. 'I am not'—you understand: 'I AM Peter + Bloggins!'" + </p> + <p><br /> + Oakhurst. But, my dear colonel, I— + </p> + <p><br /> + Starbottle (loftily). Say no more, sir! I accept the—er position. + Let us see! The gentleman will, on recognition, probably make a personal + attack. You are armed. Ah, no? Umph! On reflection I would not permit + him to strike a single blow: I would anticipate it. It will provoke the + challenge from him, leaving YOU, sir, the—er—choice of + weapons. + </p> + <p><br /> + Oakhurst. Hush! he is moving! Take your stand here, in this alcove. + Remember, as a gentleman, and a man of honor, Col. Starbottle, I trust + you not to interfere between the injured man and—justice! (Pushes + COL. STARBOTTLE into alcove behind couch, and approaches SANDY.) + </p> + <p><br /> + Sandy (waking slowly—and incoherently). Hush, Silky! hush! Eh? Oh, + hush yourself! (Sings.) + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Oh, yer's yer Sandy Morton, + Drink him down! +</pre> + <p><br /> + Eh! Oh! (Half sits up on couch.) Eh! (Looking around him.) Where the + devil am I? + </p> + <p><br /> + Oakhurst (advancing and leaning over SANDY'S couch). In the house of + your father, Alexander Morton. + </p> + <p><br /> + Sandy (recoiling in astonishment). His voice, John Oakhurst! What—ah! + (Rises, and rushes towards OAKHURST with uplifted hand.) + </p> + <p><br /> + Starbottle (gesticulating in whisper). A blow! a single blow would be + sufficient. + </p> + <p><br /> + Sandy (looking at OAKHURST, who regards him calmly). I—eh! I—eh! + Ha, ha! I'm glad to see—old pard! I'm glad to see ye! (COL. + STARBOTTLE lifts his hand in amazement.) + </p> + <p><br /> + Oakhurst (declining his hand). Do you understand me, Sandy Morton? + Listen. I am John Oakhurst,—the man who has deceived your father, + who has deceived you. + </p> + <p><br /> + Sandy (without heeding his words, but regarding him affectionately). To + think of it—Jack Oakhurst! It's like him, like Jack. He was allers + onsartain, the darned little cuss! Jack! Look at him, will ye, boys? + look at him! Growed too, and dressed to kill, and sittin' in this yer + house as natril as a jaybird! (Looking around.) Nasty, ain't it, Jack? + and this yer's your house—the old man's house—eh? Why, this + is—this is where she came. Jack, Jack! (Eagerly.) Tell me, pard, + where is she? + </p> + <p><br /> + Starbottle (aside, rubbing his hands). We shall have it now! + </p> + <p><br /> + Oakhurst. She has gone,—gone! But hear me. She had deceived you as + she has me. She has gone,—gone with her first husband, Henry + Pritchard. + </p> + <p><br /> + Sandy (stupefied). Gone! Her first husband! Pritchard! + </p> + <p><br /> + Oakhurst. Ay, your wife! + </p> + <p><br /> + Sandy. Oh, damn my wife! I'm talking of Mary,—Miss Mary,—the + little schoolma'am, Jack; the little rose of Poker Flat. Oh! I see—ye + didn't know her, Jack,—the pertiest, sweetest little— + </p> + <p><br /> + Oakhurst (turning away coldly). Ay, ay! She is here! + </p> + <p><br /> + Sandy (looking after him affectionately). Look at him, boys! Allers the + same,—high-toned, cold, even to his pardner! That's him,—Jack + Oakhurst! But Jack, Jack, you're goin' to shake hands, ain't ye? + (Extends his hand, after a pause. OAKHURST takes it gloomily.) + </p> + <p><br /> + Col. Starbottle (who has been regarding interview with visible scorn and + disgust, advancing to OAKHURST). You will—er—pardon me if, + under the—er—circumstances, I withdraw from this—er—disgraceful + proceeding. The condonation, by that man, of two of the most tremendous + offences to society and to the code, without apology or satisfaction, + Ged, sir, is—er—er—of itself an insult to the + spectator. I go, sir— + </p> + <p><br /> + Oakhurst. But, Col. Starbottle— + </p> + <p><br /> + Starbottle. Permit me to say, sir, that I hold myself for this, sir, + responsible, sir,—personally responsible. + </p> + <p><br /> + [Exit STARBOTTLE, glancing furiously at SANDY, who sinks on sofa + laughing. + </p> + <p><br /> + Oakhurst (aside). He will change his mind in half an hour. But, in the + mean time, time is precious. (Aloud.) Sandy, come! + </p> + <p><br /> + Sandy (rising with alacrity). Yes, Jack, I'm ready. + </p> + <p><br /> + Oakhurst. We are going (slowly and solemnly)—we are going to see + your father. + </p> + <p><br /> + Sandy (dropping back with bashful embarrassment, and struggling to + release his arm from OAKHURST). No, Jack! Not just yet, Jack; in a + little while, ole boy! in about six months, or mebbe—a year, Jack! + not now, not now! I ain't feelin' exactly well, Jack,—I ain't. + </p> + <p><br /> + Oakhurst. Nonsense, Sandy! Consider your duty and my honor. + </p> + <p><br /> + Sandy (regaining his seat). That's all very well, Jack; but ye see, + pard, you've known the old man for nigh on a year, and it's twenty-five + since I met him. No, Jack; you don't play any ole man on to me to-night, + Jack. No, you and me'll just drop out for a pasear. Jack, eh? (Taking + OAKHURST'S arm.) Come! + </p> + <p><br /> + Oakhurst. Impossible! Hush! (Listening.) It is HE passing through the + corridor. (Goes to wing R., and listens.) + </p> + <p><br /> + Sandy (crowding hastily behind OAKHURST in alarm). But, I say, Jack! he + won't come in here? He's goin' to bed, you know. Eh? It ain't right for + a man o' his years—and he must be goin' on ninety, Jack—to + be up like this. It ain't healthy. + </p> + <p><br /> + Oakhurst. You know him not. He seems to need no rest (sadly). Night + after night, long after the servants are abed, and the house is still, I + hear that step slowly pacing the corridor. It is the last sound as I + close my eyes, the first challenge of the morning. + </p> + <p><br /> + Sandy. The ol' scound—(checking himself)—I mean, Jack, the + ol' man has suthin' on his mind. But, Jack (in great alarm), he don't + waltz in upon ye, Jack? He don't p'int them feet in yer, Jack? Ye ain't + got to put up with that, Jack, along o' yer other trials? + </p> + <p><br /> + Oakhurst. He often seeks me here. Ah—yes—he is coming this + way now. + </p> + <p><br /> + Sandy (in ludicrous terror). Jack, pard, quick I hide me somewhere, + Jack! + </p> + <p><br /> + Oakhurst (opening door R.). In there, quick! Not a sound, as you value + your future! [Exit SANDY hurriedly R. + </p> + <p><br /> + SCENE 2.—The same. Enter door R., OLD MORTON, in dressing-gown, + with candle. + </p> + <p><br /> + Old Morton. Not abed yet, Alexander? Well, well, I don't blame you, my + son it has been for you a trying, trying night. Yes, I see: like me, you + are a little nervous and wakeful. (Slowly takes chair, and comfortably + composes himself.) + </p> + <p><br /> + Oakhurst (aside). He is in for a midnight gossip. How shall I dispose of + Sandy? + </p> + <p><br /> + Old Morton. Yes (meditatively),—yes, you have overworked lately. + Never mind. In a day or two more you shall have a vacation, sir,—a + vacation! + </p> + <p><br /> + Oakhurst (aside). He knows not how truly he speaks. (Aloud.) Yes, sir, I + was still up. I have only just now dismissed the policemen. + </p> + <p><br /> + Old Morton. Ay. I heard voices, and saw a light in your window. I came + to tell you, Alexander, Capper has explained all about—about the + decoy! More; he has told me of your courage and your invaluable + assistance. For a moment, sir,—I don't mind telling you now in + confidence,—I doubted YOU— + </p> + <p><br /> + Oakhurst (in feigned deprecation). Oh, sir! + </p> + <p><br /> + Old Morton. Only for a moment. You will find, Alexander, that even that + doubt shall have full apology when the year of your probation has + expired. Besides, sir. I know all. + </p> + <p><br /> + Oakhurst (starting). All! + </p> + <p><br /> + Old Morton. Yes, the story about the Duchess and your child. You are + surprised. Col. Starbottle told me all. I forgive you, Alexander, for + the sake of your boy. + </p> + <p><br /> + Oakhurst. My boy, sir! + </p> + <p><br /> + Old Morton. Yes, your boy. And let me tell you, sir, he's a fine young + fellow. Looks like you,—looks as you did when YOU were a boy. He's + a Morton too, every inch of him, there's no denying that. No, sir. You + may have changed; but he—he—is the living image of my little + Alexander. He took to me, too,—lifted his little arms—and—and— + (Becomes affected, and leans his head in his hands.) + </p> + <p><br /> + Oakhurst (rising). You are not well, sir. Let me lead you to your room. + </p> + <p><br /> + Old Morton. No! it is nothing: a glass of water, Alexander! + </p> + <p><br /> + Oakhurst (aside). He is very pale. The agitation of the night has + overcome him. (Goes to table R.) A little spirits will revive him. + (Pours from decanter in glass, and returns to MORTON.) + </p> + <p><br /> + Old Morton (after drinking). There was spirits in that water, Alexander. + Five years ago, I vowed at your mother's grave to abandon the use of + intoxicating liquors. + </p> + <p><br /> + Oakhurst. Believe me, sir, my mother will forgive you. + </p> + <p><br /> + Old Morton. Doubtless. It has revived me. I am getting to be an old man, + Aleck. (Holds out his glass half-unconsciously, and OAKHURST replenishes + it from decanter.) Yes, an old man, Aleck; but the boy,—ah, I live + again in him. The little rascal! He asked me, Aleck, for a "chaw + tobacker!" and wanted to know if I was the "ol' duffer." Ha, ha! He did. + Ha, ha! Come, come, don't be despondent. I was like you once, damn it,—ahem—it's + all for the best, my boy, all for the best. I'll take the young rascal + (aside)—damn it, he's already taken me—(aloud) on equal + terms. There, Aleck, what do you say? + </p> + <p><br /> + Oakhurst. Really, sir, this forbearance,—this kindness—(aside) + I see a ray of light. + </p> + <p><br /> + Old Morton. Nonsense! I'll take the boy, I tell you, and do well for + him,—the little rascal!—as if he were the legal heir. But, I + say, Aleck (laughing), ha, ha!—what about—ha, ha!—what + about Dona Jovita, eh? and what about Don Jose Castro, eh? How will the + lady like a ready-made family, eh? (Poking OAKHURST in the ribs.) What + will the Don say to the family succession? Ha, ha! + </p> + <p><br /> + Oakhurst (proudly). Really, sir, I care but little. + </p> + <p><br /> + Old Morton (aside). Oh, ho! I'll sound him. (Aloud.) Look ye, Alexander, + I have given my word to you and Don Jose Castro, and I'll keep it. But + if you can do any better, eh—if—eh?—the schoolma'am's + a mighty pretty girl and a bright one, eh, Aleck? And it's all in the + family—eh? And she thinks well of you; and I will say, for a girl + brought up as she's been, and knowin' your relations with the Duchess + and the boy, to say a kind word for ye, Aleck, is a good sign,—you + follow me, Aleck,—if you think—why, old Don Jose might + whistle for a son-in-law, eh? + </p> + <p><br /> + Oakhurst (interrupting indignantly). Sir! (Aside.) Stop! (Aloud.) Do you + mean to say, sir, that if I should consent to this—suggestion—that, + if the lady were willing, YOU would offer no impediment? + </p> + <p><br /> + Old Morton. Impediment, my dear boy! you should have my blessing. + </p> + <p><br /> + Oakhurst. Pardon me a moment. You have in the last year, sir, taught me + the importance of business formality in all the relations of life. + Following that idea, the conditions of my engagement with Jovita Castro + were drawn up with your hand. Are you willing to make this recantation + as formal, this new contract as businesslike and valid? + </p> + <p><br /> + Old Morton (eagerly). I am. + </p> + <p><br /> + Oakhurst. Then sit here, and write at my dictation. (Pointing to table + L. OLD MORTON takes seat at table.) "In view of the evident preferences + of my son Alexander Morton, and of certain family interests, I hereby + revoke my consent to his marriage with the Dona Jovita Castro, and + accord him full permission to woo and win his cousin, Miss Mary Morris, + promising him the same aid and assistance previously offered in his suit + with Miss Castro." + </p> + <p><br /> + Old Morton (signing). Alexander Morton, sen. There, Aleck! You have + forgotten one legal formality. We have no witness. Ha, ha! + </p> + <p><br /> + Oakhurst (significantly). I will be a sufficient witness. + </p> + <p><br /> + Old Morton. Ha, ha! (Fills glass from decanter, after which OAKHURST + quietly removes decanter beyond his reach.) Very good! Aleck, I've been + thinking of a plan,—I've been thinking of retiring from the bank. + I'm getting old, and my ways are not the popular ways of business here. + I've been thinking of you, you dog,—of leaving the bank to you,—to + you, sir, eh—the day—the day you marry the schoolma'am—eh. + I'll stay home and take care of the boy—eh—hic! The little + rascal!—lifted his arms to me—did, Aleck! by God! + (Incoherently.) Eh! + </p> + <p><br /> + Oakhurst. Hush! (Aside.) Sandy will overhear him, and appear. + </p> + <p><br /> + Old Morton (greatly affected by liquor.) Hush! eh!—of course—shoo! + shoo! (The actor will here endeavor to reproduce in OLD MORTON'S drunken + behavior, without exactly imitating him, the general characteristics of + his son's intoxication.) Eh!—I say, Aleck, old boy! what will the + Don say? eh? Ha, ha, ha! And Jovita, that firebrand, how will she—hic—like + it, eh? (Laughs immoderately.) + </p> + <p><br /> + Oakhurst. Hush! We will be overheard! The servants, sir! + </p> + <p><br /> + Old Morton. Damn the servants! Don't I—hic—pay them wages—eh? + </p> + <p><br /> + Oakhurst. Let me lead you to your own room. You are nervously excited. A + little rest, sir, will do you good. (Taking his arm.) + </p> + <p><br /> + Old Morton. No shir, no shir, 'm nerrer goin' to bed any more. Bed's bad + habit!—hic—drunken habit. Lesh stay up all ni, Aleck! You + and me! Lesh nev'r—go—bed any more! Whar's whiskey—eh? + (Staggers to the table for decanter as OAKHURST seizes him, struggle up + stage, and then OLD MORTON, in struggle, falls helplessly on sofa, in + same attitude as SANDY was discovered.) + </p> + <p><br /> + Enter SANDY cautiously from door L. + </p> + <p><br /> + Sandy (to OAKHURST). Jack! Eh, Jack— + </p> + <p><br /> + Oakhurst. Hush! Go! I will follow you in a moment. (Pushes him back to + door L.) + </p> + <p><br /> + Sandy (catching sight of OLD MORTON). Hallo! What's up? + </p> + <p><br /> + Oakhurst. Nothing. He was overtaken with a sudden faintness. He will + revive presently: go! + </p> + <p><br /> + Sandy (hesitating). I say, Jack, he wasn't taken sick along o' me, eh, + Jack? + </p> + <p><br /> + Oakhurst. No! No! But go (pushing him toward door). + </p> + <p><br /> + Sandy. Hold on: I'm going. But, Jack, I've got a kind of faintness yer, + too. (Goes to side-table, and takes up decanter.) And thar's nothing + reaches that faintness like whiskey. (Fills glass.) Old Morton + (drunkenly and half-consciously from couch). Whiskey—who shed—whiskey—eh? + Eh—O—gimme some, Aleck—Aleck, my son,—my son!—my + old prodigal—Old Proddy, my boy—gimme—whiskey—(sings)— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Oh, yer's yer good old whiskey, + Drink it down! +</pre> + <p><br /> + Eh? I com—mand you,—pass the whiskey! + </p> + <p><br /> + SANDY, at first panic-stricken, and then remorsefully conscious, throws + glass down, with gesture of fear and loathing. OAKHURST advances to his + side hurriedly. + </p> + <p><br /> + Oakhurst (in hurried whisper). Give him the whiskey, quick! It will keep + him quiet. (Is about to take decanter when SANDY seizes it: struggle + with OAKHURST.) + </p> + <p><br /> + Sandy (with feeling). No, no, Jack, no! (Suddenly with great strength + and determination, breaks from him, and throws decanter from window.) + No, NEVER! + </p> + <p><br /> + Old Morton (struggling drunkenly to his feet). Eh—who sh'd never? + (OAKHURST shoves SANDY in room L., and follows him, closing door.) Eh, + Aleck? (Groping.) Eh, where'sh light? All gone. (Lapses on sofa again, + after an ineffectual struggle to get up, and then resumes his old + attitude.) + </p> + <p><br /> + (Change scene quickly.) + </p> + <p><br /> + SCENE 3.—Ante-room in MR. MORTON'S villa. Front scene. Enter DON + JOSE CASTRO and CONCHO, preceded by SERVANT, L. + </p> + <p><br /> + Servant. This way, gentlemen. + </p> + <p><br /> + Don Jose. Carry this card to Alexander Morton, sen. + </p> + <p><br /> + Servant. Beg pardon, sir, but there's only one name here, sir (looking + at CONCHO). + </p> + <p><br /> + Don Jose (proudly). That is my servant, sir. [Exit SERVANT. + </p> + <p><br /> + Don Jose (aside). I don't half like this business. But my money locked + up in his bank, and my daughter's hand bound to his son, demand it. + (Aloud.) This is no child's play, Concho, you understand. + </p> + <p><br /> + Concho. Ah! I am wise. Believe me, if I have not proofs which shall + blanch the cheek of this old man, I am a fool, Don Jose! + </p> + <p><br /> + Re-enter SERVANT. + </p> + <p><br /> + Servant. Mr. Morton, sen., passed a bad night, and has left word not to + be disturbed this morning. But Mr. Morton, jun., will attend you, sir. + </p> + <p><br /> + Concho (aside). So the impostor will face it out. Well, let him come. + </p> + <p><br /> + Don Jose (to SERVANT) I wait his pleasure. [Exit SERVANT. + </p> + <p><br /> + Don Jose. You hear, Concho? You shall face this man. I shall repeat to + him all you have told me. If you fail to make good your charge, on your + head rests the consequences. + </p> + <p><br /> + Concho. He will of course deny. He is a desperate man: he will perhaps + attack me. Eh! Ah! (Drawing revolver.) + </p> + <p><br /> + Don Jose. Put up your foolish weapon. The sight of the father he has + deceived will be more terrible to him than the pistol of the spy. + </p> + <p><br /> + Enter COL. STARBOTTLE, C. + </p> + <p><br /> + Starbottle. Mr. Alexander Morton, Jun., will be with you in a moment. + (Takes attitude by door, puts his hand in his breast, and inflates + himself.) + </p> + <p><br /> + Concho (to DON JOSE, aside). It is the bullying lawyer. They will try to + outface us, my patron; but we shall triumph. (Aloud.) He comes, eh!—Mr. + Alexander Morton, gentlemen! I will show you a cheat, an impostor! + </p> + <p><br /> + Enter, in correct, precise morning dress, SANDY MORTON. There is in his + make-up and manner a suggestion of the father. + </p> + <p><br /> + Concho (recoiling, aside). Diego! The real son. (Aloud, furiously.) It + is a trick to defeat justice,—eh!—a miserable trick! But it + shall fail, it shall fail! + </p> + <p><br /> + Col. Starbottle. Permit me, a moment,—a single moment. (To + Concho.) You have—er—er—characterized my introduction + of this—er—gentleman as a "cheat" and an "imposture." Are + you prepared to deny that this is Alexander Morton? + </p> + <p><br /> + Don Jose (astonished, aside). These Americanos are of the Devil! (Aloud + and sternly.) Answer him, Concho, I command you. + </p> + <p><br /> + Concho (in half-insane rage). It is Alexander Morton; but it is a trick,—a + cowardly trick! Where is the other impostor, this Mr. John Oakhurst? + </p> + <p><br /> + Sandy (advancing with dignity and something of his father's cold + manner). He will answer for himself, when called for. (To DON JOSE.) You + have asked for me, sir: may I inquire your business? + </p> + <p><br /> + Concho. Eh! It is a trick,—a trick! + </p> + <p><br /> + Don Jose (to CONCHO). Silence, sir! (To SANDY, with dignity.) I know not + the meaning of this masquerade. I only know that you are NOT the + gentleman hitherto known to me as the son of Alexander Morton. I am + here, sir, to demand my rights as a man of property and a father. I have + received this morning a check from the house of Morton & Son, for + the amount of my deposit with them. So far—in view of this + complication—it is well. Who knows? Bueno! But the signature of + Morton & Son to the check is not in the handwriting I have known. + Look at it, sir. (To SANDY, handing check.) + </p> + <p><br /> + Sandy (examining check). It is my handwriting, sir, and was signed this + morning. Has it been refused? + </p> + <p><br /> + Don Jose. Pardon me, sir. It has not been presented. With this doubt in + my mind, I preferred to submit it first to you. + </p> + <p><br /> + Starbottle. A moment, a single moment, sir. While as a—er—gentleman + and a man of honor, I—er—appreciate your motives, permit me + to say, sir, as a lawyer, that your visit is premature. On the testimony + of your own witness, the identification of Mr. Alexander Morton, jun., + is—er—complete; he has admitted the signature as his own; + you have not yet presented the check to the bank. + </p> + <p><br /> + Don Jose. Pardon me, Col. Starbottle. It is not all. (To SANDY.) By a + written agreement with Alexander Morton, sen., the hand of my daughter + is promised to his son, who now stands before me, as my former servant, + dismissed from my service for drunkenness. + </p> + <p><br /> + Sandy. That agreement is revoked. + </p> + <p><br /> + Don Jose. Revoked! + </p> + <p><br /> + Sandy (handing paper). Cast your eyes over that paper. At least you will + recognize THAT signature. + </p> + <p><br /> + Don Jose (reads). "In view of the evident preferences of my son, + Alexander Morton, and of certain family interests, I hereby revoke my + consent to his marriage with the Dona Jovita Castro, and accord him full + permission to woo and win his cousin, Miss Mary Morris; promising him + the same aid and assistance previously offered in his suit with Miss + Castro.—ALEXANDER MORTON, SEN." + </p> + <p><br /> + Concho. Ah! Carramba! Do you not see the trick,—eh, the + conspiracy? It was this man, as Diego, your daughter's groom, helped his + friend Mr. Oakhurst to the heiress. Ah, you comprehend! It was an old + trick! You shall see, you shall see! Ah! I am wise, I am wise! + </p> + <p><br /> + Don Jose (aside). Could I have been deceived? But no! This paper that + releases HIM gives the impostor no claim. + </p> + <p><br /> + Sandy (resuming his old easy manner, dropping his formality, and placing + his hand on DON JOSE'S shoulder). Look yar, ole man: I didn't allow to + ever see ye agin, and this yer ain't none o' MY seekin'. But, since yer + here, I don't mind tellin' ye that but for me that gal of yours would + have run away a year ago, and married an unknown lover. And I don't mind + adding, that, hed I known that unknown lover was my friend John + Oakhurst, I'd have helped her do it. (Going.) Good-morning, Don Jose. + </p> + <p><br /> + Don Jose. Insolent! I shall expect an account for this from your—father, + sir. + </p> + <p><br /> + Sandy. Adios, Don Jose. [Exit C. + </p> + <p><br /> + Concho. It is a trick—I told you. Ah, I am wise. (Going to DON + JOSE.) + </p> + <p><br /> + Don Jose (throwing him off). Fool! [Exit DON JOSE. + </p> + <p><br /> + Concho (infuriated). Eh! Fool yourself—dotard! No matter: I will + expose all—ah! I will see Jovita;—I will revenge myself on + this impostor! (Is about to follow, when COL. STARBOTTLE leaves his + position by the door, and touches CONCHO on the shoulder.) + </p> + <p><br /> + Starbottle. Excuse me. + </p> + <p><br /> + Concho. Eh? + </p> + <p><br /> + Starbottle. You have forgotten something. + </p> + <p><br /> + Conhho. Something? + </p> + <p><br /> + Starbottle. An apology, sir. You were good enough to express—er—incredulity—when + I presented Mr. Morton: you were kind enough to characterize the conduct + of my er—principal by—an epithet. You have alluded to me, + sir,—ME— + </p> + <p><br /> + Concho (wrathfully). Bully! (Aside.) I have heard that this pomposo, + this braggart, is a Yankee trick too; that he has the front of a lion, + the liver of the chicken. (Aloud.) Yes, I have said, you hear I have + said, I, Concho (striking his breast), have said you are a—bully! + </p> + <p><br /> + Starbottle (coolly). Then you are prepared to give me satisfaction, sir,—personal + satisfaction. + </p> + <p><br /> + Concho (raging). Yes, sir, now—you understand, now (taking out + pistol), anywhere, here! Yes, here. Ah! you start,—yes, here and + now! Face to face, you understand, without seconds,—face to face. + So. (Presenting pistol.) + </p> + <p><br /> + Starbottle (quietly). Permit me to—er—apologize. + </p> + <p><br /> + Concho. Ah! It is too late! + </p> + <p><br /> + Starbottle (interrupting). Excuse me, but I feared you would not honor + me so completely and satisfactorily. Ged, sir, I begin to respect you! I + accede to all your propositions of time and position. The pistol you + hold in your hand is a derringer, I presume, loaded. Ah—er—I + am right. The one I now produce (showing pistol) is—er—as + you will perceive the same size and pattern, and—er—unloaded. + We will place them both, so, under the cloth of this table. You shall + draw one pistol, I will take the other. I will put that clock at ten + minutes to nine, when we will take our positions across this table; as + you—er—happily express it, "face to face." As the clock + strikes the hour, we will fire on the second stroke. + </p> + <p><br /> + Concho (aside). It is a trick, a Yankee trick! (Aloud.) I am ready. Now—at + once! + </p> + <p><br /> + Starbottle (gravely). Permit me, sir, to thank you. Your conduct, sir, + reminds me of singular incident— + </p> + <p><br /> + Concho (angrily interrupting). Come, come! It is no child's play. We + have much of this talk, eh! It is action, eh, you comprehend,—action. + </p> + <p><br /> + (STARBOTTLE places pistols under the cloth, and sets clock. CONCHO draws + pistol from cloth; STARBOTTLE takes remaining pistol. Both men assume + position, presenting their weapons; STARBOTTLE pompously but seriously, + CONCHO angrily and nervously.) + </p> + <p><br /> + Starbottle (after a pause). One moment, a single moment— + </p> + <p><br /> + Concho. Ah, a trick! Coward! you cannot destroy my aim. + </p> + <p><br /> + Starbottle. I overlook the—er—epithet. I wished only to ask, + if you should be—er—unfortunate, if there was anything I + could say to your—er—friends. + </p> + <p><br /> + Concho. You cannot make the fool of me, coward. No! + </p> + <p><br /> + Starbottle. My object was only precautionary. Owing to the position in + which you—er—persist in holding your weapon, in a line with + my right eye, I perceive that a ray of light enters the nipple, and—er—illuminates + the barrel. I judge from this that you have been unfortunate enough to + draw the—er—er—unloaded pistol. + </p> + <p><br /> + Concho (tremulously lowering weapon). Eh! Ah! This is murder! (Drops + pistol.) Murder!—eh—help (retreating), help! + </p> + <p><br /> + [Exit hurriedly door C., as clock strikes. COL. STARBOTTLE lowers his + pistol, and moves with great pomposity to the other side of the table, + taking up pistol. + </p> + <p><br /> + Starbottle (examining pistol). Ah! (Lifts it, and discharges it.) It + seems that I am mistaken. (Going.) The pistol WAS—er—loaded! + [Exit. + </p> + <p><br /> + SCENE 4.—Front scene. Room in villa. Enter MISS MARY and JOVITA. + </p> + <p><br /> + Miss Mary. I tell you, you are wrong, you are not only misunderstanding + your lover, which is a woman's privilege, but you are abusing my cousin, + which, as his relative, I won't put up with. + </p> + <p><br /> + Jovita (passionately). But hear me, Miss Mary. It is a year since we + were betrothed; and such a betrothal! Why, I was signed, sealed, and + delivered to him, on conditions, as if I were a part of the rancho; and + the very night, too, I had engaged to run away with him! And during that + year I have seen the gentleman twice,—yes, twice! + </p> + <p><br /> + Miss Mary. But he has written? + </p> + <p><br /> + Jovita. Mother of God! Yes,—letters delivered by my father, sent + to HIS CARE, read by him first, of course; letters hoping that I was + well, and obeying my father's commands; letters assuring me of his + unaltered devotion; letters that, compared with the ones he used to hide + in the confessional of the ruined mission church, were as ice to fire, + were as that snow-flower you value so much, Mary, to this mariposa + blossom I wear in my hair. And then to think that this man—this + John Oakhurst, as I knew him; this man who used to ride twenty miles for + a smile from me on the church porch; this Don Juan who leaped that + garden wall (fifteen feet, Mary, if it is an inch), and made old Concho + his stepping-stone; this man, who daily perilled death for my sake—is + changed into this formal, methodical man of business—is—is—I + tell you there's a WOMAN at the bottom of it! I know it sure! + </p> + <p><br /> + Miss Mary (aside). How can I tell her about the Duchess? I won't! + (Aloud.) But listen, my dear Jovita. You know he is under probation for + you, Jovita. All this is for you. His father is cold, methodical, + unsympathetic. HE looks only to his bond with this son,—this son + that he treats, even in matters of the heart, as a BUSINESS partner. + Remember, on his complete reformation, and subjection to his father's + will, depends your hand. Remember the agreement! + </p> + <p><br /> + Jovita. The agreement; yes! It is the agreement, always the agreement! + May the Devil fly away with the agreement! Look you, Miss Mary, I, Dona + Jovita, didn't fall in love with an agreement: it was with a man! Why, I + might have married a dozen agreements—yes, of a shorter limitation + than this! (Crossing.) + </p> + <p><br /> + Miss Mary. Yes. But what if your lover had failed to keep those promises + by which he was to gain your hand? what if he were a man incapable of + self-control? what if he were—a—a drunkard? + </p> + <p><br /> + Jovita (musing). A drunkard! (Aside.) There was Diego, he was a + drunkard; but he was faithless. (Aloud.) You mean a weak, faithless + drunkard? + </p> + <p><br /> + Miss Mary. No! (Sadly.) Faithless only to himself, but devoted—yes, + devoted to YOU. + </p> + <p><br /> + Jovita. Miss Mary, I have found that one big vice in a man is apt to + keep out a great many smaller ones. + </p> + <p><br /> + Miss Mary. Yes; but if he were a slave to liquor? + </p> + <p><br /> + Jovita. My dear, I should try to change his mistress. Oh, give me a man + that is capable of a devotion to anything, rather than a cold, + calculating average of all the virtues! + </p> + <p><br /> + Miss Mary (aside). I, who aspire to be her teacher, am only her pupil. + (Aloud.) But what if, in this very drunkenness, this recklessness, he + had once loved and worshipped another woman? What if you discovered all + this after—after—he had won your heart? + </p> + <p><br /> + Jovita. I should adore him! Ah, Miss Mary! Love differs from all the + other contagious diseases: the last time a man is exposed to it, he + takes it most readily, and has it the worst! But you, YOU cannot + sympathize with me. You have some lover, the ideal of the virtues; some + man as correct, as well regulated, as calm as—yourself; some one + who addresses you in the fixed morality and severe penmanship of the + copy-books. He will never precipitate himself over a garden wall or + through a window. Your Jacob will wait for you through seven years, and + receive you from the hands of your cousin and guardian—as a reward + of merit! No, you could not love a vagabond. + </p> + <p><br /> + Miss Mary (very slowly and quietly). No? + </p> + <p><br /> + Jovita. No! (Passionately.) No, it is impossible. Forgive me, Miss Mary: + you are good; a better girl than I am. But think of me! A year ago my + lover leaped a wall at midnight to fly with me: today, the day that + gives me to him, he writes a few cold lines, saying that he has + business, BUSINESS—you understand—business, and that he + shall not see me until we meet in the presence of—of—of—our + fathers. + </p> + <p><br /> + Miss Mary. Yes; but you will see him at least, perhaps alone. Listen: it + is no formal meeting, but one of festivity. My guardian has told me, in + his quaint scriptural way, it is the killing of the fatted calf, over + his long-lost prodigal. Have patience, little one. Ah! Jovita, we are of + a different race, but we are of one sex; and as a woman I know how to + accept another woman's abuse of her lover. Come, come! [Exeunt MISS MARY + and JOVITA. + </p> + <p><br /> + SCENE 5.—The drawing-room of MR. MORTON'S villa. Large open arch + in centre, leading to veranda, looking on distant view of San Francisco; + richly furnished,—sofas, arm-chairs, and tete-a-tetes. Enter COL. + STARBOTTLE, C., carrying bouquet, preceded by SERVANT, bowing. + </p> + <p><br /> + Starbottle. Take my kyard to Miss Morris. [Exit SERVANT. + </p> + <p><br /> + Starbottle. Star! This is the momentous epoch of your life! It is a + moment for which you—are—I may say alone responsible,—personally + responsible! She will be naturally gratified by the—er—flowers. + She will at once recognize this bouquet as a delicate souvenir of Red + Gulch, and will appreciate your recollection. And the fact, the crushing + fact, that you have overlooked the—er—ungentlemanly conduct + of her OWN cousin Sandy, the real Alexander Morton, that you have—er—assisted + to restore the ex-vaquero to his rights, will—er—er—at + once open the door to—er—mutual confidence and—er—a + continuance of that—er—prepossession I have already noticed. + Ahem! here she is. + </p> + <p><br /> + Enter MISS MARY in full dress. + </p> + <p><br /> + Miss Mary. You are early, Col. Starbottle. This promptitude does honor + to our poor occasion. + </p> + <p><br /> + Col. Starbottle. Ged, Miss Mary, promptness with a lady and an adversary + is the first duty of—er—gentleman. I wished that—er—the + morning dew might still be—er—fresh in these flowers. I + gathered them myself (presenting bouquet) at—er—er—flower-stand + in the—er—California market. + </p> + <p><br /> + Miss Mary (aside). Flowers! I needed no such reminder of poor Sandy. + (Aloud.) I thank you, colonel. + </p> + <p><br /> + Starbattle. Ged, ma'am, I am repaid doubly. Your conduct, Miss Mary, + reminds me of little incident that occurred at Richmond, in '58. Dinner + party—came early—but obliged to go—as now—on + important business, before dessert—before dessert. Lady sat next + to me—beautiful woman—excuse me if I don't mention names—said + to me, "Star,"—always called me Star,—"Star, you remind me + of the month of May."—"Ged, madam,"—I said, "delighted, + proud; but why?"—"Because," she said, "you come in with the—er—oysters."—No! + Ged, pardon me—ridiculous mistake! I mean—er—"you come + in with the—er—flowers, and go before the—er—fruits." + </p> + <p><br /> + Miss Mary. Ah, colonel! I appreciate her disappointment. Let us hope, + however, that some day you may find that happy woman who will be able to + keep you through the whole dinner and the whole season, until December + and the ices! + </p> + <p><br /> + Starbottle. Ged! excellent! Capital! (seriously.) Miss Mary! (Suddenly + inflating his chest, striking attitude, and gazing on MISS MARY with + languishing eyes.) There is—er such a woman! + </p> + <p><br /> + Miss Mary (aside). What can he mean? + </p> + <p><br /> + Starbottle (taking seat beside her). Allow me, Miss Mary, a few moments + of confidential—er—confidential disclosure. To-day is, as + you are aware—the day on which, according to—er—agreement + between parties, my friend and client, Mr. Morton, sen.,—formally + accepts his prodigal son. It is my—er—duty to state that—er—the + gentleman who has for the past year occupied that position has behaved + with great discretion, and—er—fulfilled his part of the—er—agreement. + But it would—er—appear that there has been a—er—slight + delusion regarding the identity of that prodigal,—a delusion + shared by all the parties except, perhaps, myself. I have to prepare you + for a shock. The gentleman whom you have recently known as Alexander + Morton, jun., is not the prodigal son; is not your—er—cousin; + is, in fact, no relation to you. Prepare yourself, Miss Mary, for a + little disappointment,—for— er—degradation. The + genuine son has been—er—discovered in the person of—er—low + menial—or—vagabond,—"Sandy," the—er—outcast + of Red Gulch! + </p> + <p><br /> + Miss Mary (rising in astonishment). Sandy! Then he was right. (Aside.) + The child is his! and that woman— + </p> + <p><br /> + Starbottle. Compose yourself, Miss Mary. I know the—er—effect + of—er—revelation like this upon—er—proud and + aristocratic nature. Ged! My own, I assure you, beats in—er—responsive + indignation. You can never consent to remain beneath this roof, and—er—receive + a—er—vagabond and—er—menial on equal terms. The—er—necessities + of my—er—profession may—er—compel me; but you—er—never! + Holding myself—er—er—responsible for having introduced + you here, it is my—er—duty to provide you with—another + home! It is my—er—duty to protect— + </p> + <p><br /> + Miss Mary (aside). Sandy here, and beneath this roof! Why has he not + sought me? Ah, I know too well: he dare not face me with his child! + </p> + <p><br /> + Starbottle (aside). She turns away! it is maiden coyness. (Aloud.) If, + Miss Mary, the—er—devotion of a life-time; if the—er—chivalrous + and respectful adoration of a man—er—whose record is—er—not + unknown in the Court of Honor (dropping on one knee with excessive + gallantry); if the—er—measure— + </p> + <p><br /> + Miss Mary (oblivious of COL. STARBOTTLE). I WILL—I MUST see him! + Ah! (looking L.) he is coming! + </p> + <p><br /> + Enter SANDY. + </p> + <p><br /> + Starbottle (rising with great readiness and tact). I have found it + (presenting flower). It had fallen beneath the sofa. + </p> + <p><br /> + Sandy (to MISS MARY, stopping short in embarrassment). I did not know + you—I—I—thought there was no one here. + </p> + <p><br /> + Miss Mary (to STARBOTTLE). May I ask you to excuse me for a moment? I + have a few words to say to—to my COUSIN! + </p> + <p><br /> + STARBOTTLE bows gallantly to MISS MARY, and stiffly to SANDY, and exit + R. A long pause; MISS MARY remains seated pulling flowers, SANDY remains + standing by wing, foolish and embarrassed. Business. + </p> + <p><br /> + Miss Mary (impatiently). Well? + </p> + <p><br /> + Sandy (slowly). I axes your pardon, miss; but you told THAT gentleman + you had a few words—to say to me. + </p> + <p><br /> + Miss Mary (passionately, aside). Fool! (Aloud.) I had; but I am waiting + to first answer your inquiries about your—your—child. I have + fulfilled my trust, sir. + </p> + <p><br /> + Sandy. You have, Miss Mary, and I thank you. + </p> + <p><br /> + Miss Mary. I might perhaps have expected that this revelation of our + kinship would have come from other lips than a stranger's; but—no + matter! I wish you joy, sir, of your heritage. (Going.) You have found a + home, sir, at last, for yourself and—and—your child. + Good-day, sir. + </p> + <p><br /> + Sandy. Miss Mary! + </p> + <p><br /> + Miss Mary. I must make ready to receive your father's guests. It is his + orders: I am only his poor relation. Good-by, sir. [Exit L. + </p> + <p><br /> + Sandy (watching her). She is gone!—gone! No! She has dropped on + the sofa in the ante-room, and is crying. Crying! I promised Jack I + wouldn't speak until the time came. I'll go back. (Hesitating, and + looking toward L.) Poor girl! How she must hate me! I might just say a + word, one word to thank her for her kindness to Johnny,—only one + word, and then go away. I—I—can keep from liquor. I swore I + would to Jack, that night I saw the old man—drunk,—and I + have. But—I can't keep—from—her! No—damn it! + (Going toward L.) No!—I'll go! [Exit L. + </p> + <p><br /> + Enter hurriedly and excitedly JOVITA, R., followed by MANUELA. + </p> + <p><br /> + Jovita. Where is she? Where is HE?—the traitor! + </p> + <p><br /> + Manuela (entreatingly). Compose yourself, Dona Jovita, for the love of + God! This is madness: believe me, there is some mistake. It is some + trick of an enemy,—of that ingrate, that coyote, Concho, who hates + the Don Alexandro. + </p> + <p><br /> + Jovita. A trick! Call you this a trick? Look at this paper, put into my + hands by my father a moment ago. Read it. Ah! listen. (Reads.) "In view + of the EVIDENT PREFERENCES of my son, Alexander Morton, I hereby revoke + my consent to his marriage with the Dona Jovita Castro, and accord him + full permission to woo and win his cousin, Miss Mary Morris!" Call you + this a trick, eh? No, it is their perfidy! This is why SHE was brought + here on the eve of my betrothal. This accounts for his silence, his + absence. Oh, I shall go mad! + </p> + <p><br /> + Manuela. Compose yourself, miss. If I am not deceived, there is one here + who will aid us,—who will expose this deceit. Listen: an hour ago, + as I passed through the hall, I saw Diego, our old Diego,—your + friend and confidant, Diego. + </p> + <p><br /> + Jovita. The drunkard—the faithless Diego! + </p> + <p><br /> + Manuela. Never, Miss Jovita; not drunken! For, as he passed before me, + he was as straight, as upright, as fine as your lover. Come, miss, we + will seek him. + </p> + <p><br /> + Jovita. Never! He, too, is a traitor. + </p> + <p><br /> + Manuela. Believe me, no! Come, Miss Jovita. (Looking toward L.) See, he + is there. Some one is with him. + </p> + <p><br /> + Jovita (looking). You are right; and it is she—SHE, Miss Mary! + What? he is kissing her hand! and she—SHE, the double traitress—drops + her head upon his shoulder! Oh, this is infamy! + </p> + <p><br /> + Manuela. Hush! Some one is coming. The guests are arriving. They must + not see you thus. This way, Miss Jovita,—this way. After a little, + a little, the mystery will be explained. (Taking JOVITA'S hand, and + leading her R.) + </p> + <p><br /> + Jovita (going). And this was the correct schoolmistress, the preceptress + and example of all the virtues! ha! (laughing hysterically) ha! + </p> + <p><br /> + [Exeunt JOVITA and MANUELA. + </p> + <p><br /> + SCENE 6.—The same. Enter SERVANT; opens folding doors C., + revealing veranda and view of distant city beyond. Stage, fog effect + from without. Enter STARBOTTLE and OAKHURST, R., in full evening dress. + </p> + <p><br /> + Starbottle (walking towards veranda). A foggy evening for our + anniversary. + </p> + <p><br /> + Oakhurst. Yes. (Aside.) It was such a night as this I first stepped into + Sandy's place, I first met the old man. Well, it will be soon over. + (Aloud.) You have the papers and transfers all ready? + </p> + <p><br /> + Starbottle. In my—er—pocket. Mr. Morton, sen., should be + here to receive his guests. + </p> + <p><br /> + Oakhurst. He will be here presently: until then the duty devolves on me. + He has secluded himself even from me! (Aside.) Perhaps it is in very + shame for his recent weakness. + </p> + <p><br /> + Enter SERVANT. + </p> + <p><br /> + Servant. Don Jose Castro, Miss Castro, and Miss Morris. + </p> + <p><br /> + Enter DON JOSE with JOVITA and MISS MARY on either arm. All formally + salute MR. OAKHURST, except MISS JOVITA, who turns coldly away, taking + seat remotely on sofa. COL. STARBOTTLE gallantly approaches MISS MARY, + and takes seat beside her. + </p> + <p><br /> + Oakhurst (aside). They are here to see my punishment. There is no + sympathy even in her eyes. + </p> + <p><br /> + Enter SERVANT. + </p> + <p><br /> + Servant. Mr. Concepcion Garcia and Mr. Capper. + </p> + <p><br /> + Concho (approaching OAKHURST, rubbing his hands). I wish you joy, Mr. + Alexander Morton! + </p> + <p><br /> + Oakhurst (excitedly, aside). Shall I throw him from the window! The dog!—even + he! + </p> + <p><br /> + Capper (approaching MR. OAKHURST). You have done well. Be bold. I will + see you through. As for THAT man (pointing to CONCHO), leave him to ME! + (Lays his hand on Concho's shoulder, and leads him to sofa R. OAKHURST + takes seat in chair L. as SANDY enters quietly from door L., and stands + leaning upon his chair.) + </p> + <p><br /> + Starbottle (rising). Ladies and gentlemen, we are waiting only for the + presence of Mr. Alexander Morton, sen. I regret to say that for the last + twenty-four hours—he has been—er—exceedingly + preoccupied with the momentous cares of the—er—occasion. You + who know the austere habits of my friend and—er—client will + probably understand that he may be at this very moment engaged in + prayerful and Christian meditation, invoking the Throne of Grace, + previous to the solemn duties of—er—er—tonight. + </p> + <p><br /> + Enter SERVANT. + </p> + <p><br /> + Servant. Mr. Alexander Morton, sen. + </p> + <p><br /> + Enter OLD MORTON, drunk, in evening costume, cravat awry, coat + half-buttoned up, and half-surly, half-idiotic manner. All rise in + astonishment. SANDY starts forward. OAKHURST pulls him back. + </p> + <p><br /> + Morton (thickly). Don't rish! Don't rish! We'll all sit down! How do you + do, sir? I wish ye well, miss. (Goes around and laboriously shakes hands + with everybody.) Now lesh all take a drink! lesh you take a drink, and + you take a drink, and you take a drink! + </p> + <p><br /> + Starbottle. Permit me, ladies and gentlemen, to—er—explain: + our friend is—er—evidently laboring under—er—er—accident + of hospitality! In a moment he will be himself. + </p> + <p><br /> + Old Morton. Hush up! Dry up—yourself—old turkey-cock! Eh! + </p> + <p><br /> + Sandy (despairingly). He will not understand us! (To STARBOTTLE.) He + will not know me! What is to be done? + </p> + <p><br /> + Old Morton. Give me some whishkey. Lesh all take a drink! (Enter SERVANT + with decanter and glasses.) + </p> + <p><br /> + Old Morton (starting forward). Lesh all take a drink! + </p> + <p><br /> + Sandy. Stop! + </p> + <p><br /> + Old Morton (recovering himself slightly). Who says stop? Who dares + countermand my orderish? + </p> + <p><br /> + Concho (coming forward). Who? I will tell you: eh! eh! Diego—dismissed + from the rancho of Don Jose for drunkenness! Sandy—the vagabond of + Red Gulch! + </p> + <p><br /> + Sandy (passionately seizing OLD MORTON'S arm). Yes, Diego—Sandy—the + outcast—but, God help me! no longer the drunkard. I forbid you to + touch that glass!—I, your son, Alexander Morton! Yes, look at me, + father: I, with drunkenness in my blood, planted by you, fostered by you—I + whom you sought to save—I—I stand here to save you! Go! (To + SERVANT.) Go! While he is thus, I—I, am master here! + </p> + <p><br /> + Old Morton (cowed and frightened). That voice! (Passing his hand over + his forehead.) Am I dreaming Aleck, where are you? Alexander, speak, I + command you: is this the truth? + </p> + <p><br /> + Oakhurst (slowly). It is! + </p> + <p><br /> + Starbottle. One moment—a single moment: permit me to—er—er—explain. + The gentleman who has just—er—dismissed the refreshment is, + to the best of my legal knowledge, your son. The gentleman who for the + past year has so admirably filled the functions of that office is—er—prepared + to admit this. The proofs are—er—conclusive. It is with the—er—intention + of offering them, and—er—returning your lawful heir, that we—er—are + here to-night. + </p> + <p><br /> + Old Morton (rising to his feet). And renounce you both! Out of my house, + out of my sight, out of my heart, forever! Go! liars, swindlers, + confederates! Drunk— + </p> + <p><br /> + Oakhurst (retiring slowly with SANDY). We are going, sir! + </p> + <p><br /> + Old Morton. Go! open the doors there WIDE, wide enough for such a + breadth of infamy! Do you hear me? I am master here! + </p> + <p><br /> + Stands erect, as OAKHURST and SANDY, hand in hand, slowly retreat + backward to centre,—then suddenly utters a cry, and falls heavily + on sofa. Both pause: OAKHURST remains quiet and motionless; SANDY, after + a moment's hesitation, rushes forward, and falls at his feet. + </p> + <p><br /> + Sandy. Father, forgive me! + </p> + <p><br /> + Old Morton (putting his hand round SANDY'S neck, and motioning him to + door). Go! both of you, both of you! (Resisting SANDY'S attempt to + rise.) Did you hear me? Go! + </p> + <p><br /> + Starbottle. Permit me to—explain. Your conduct, Mr. Morton, + reminds me of sing'lar incident in '47— + </p> + <p><br /> + Old Morton. Silence! + </p> + <p><br /> + Oakhurst. One word, Mr. Morton! Shamed and disgraced as I am, I leave + this roof more gladly than I entered it. How I came here, you best know. + How I yielded madly to the temptation, the promise of a better life; how + I fell, through the hope of reformation,—no one should know better + than you, sir, the reformer. I do not ask your pardon. You know that I + did my duty to you as your presumed son. Your real son will bear + witness, that, from the hour I knew of his existence, I did my duty + equally to him. Col. Starbottle has all the legal transfers and papers + necessary to make the restoration of your son—the integrity of + your business name—complete. I take nothing out of this life that + I did not bring in it,—except my self-respect! I go—as I + came—alone! + </p> + <p><br /> + Jovita (rushing towards him). No! no! You shall take ME! I have wronged + you, Jack, cruelly; I have doubted you; but you shall not go alone. I + care not for this contract! You are more to me, by your own right, Jack, + than by any kinship with such as these! + </p> + <p><br /> + Oakhurst (raising her gently). I thank you, darling. But it is too late + now. To be more worthy of you, to win YOU, I waived the title I had to + you in my own manhood, to borrow another's more legal claim. I who would + not win you as a gambler, cannot make you now the wife of a convicted + impostor. No! Hear me, darling! do not make my disgrace greater than it + is. In the years to come, Jovita, think of me as one who loved you well + enough to go through shame to win you, but too well to ask you to share + with him that shame. Farewell, darling, farewell! (Releases himself from + JOVITA'S arms, who falls beside him.) + </p> + <p><br /> + Concho (rubbing his hands, and standing before him). Oho! Mr. John + Oakhurst—eh—was it for this, eh—you leaped the garden + wall, eh? was it for this you struck me down, eh? You are not wise, eh? + You should have run away with the Dona when you could—ah, ah, + impostor! + </p> + <p><br /> + Sandy (leaping to his feet). Jack, you shall not go! I will go with you! + </p> + <p><br /> + Oakhurst. No! Your place is there. (Pointing to old MORTON, whose head + has sunk drunkenly on his breast.) Heed not this man; his tongue carries + only the borrowed lash of his master. + </p> + <p><br /> + Concho. Eh! you are bold now—bold; but I said I would have revenge—ah, + revenge! + </p> + <p><br /> + Sandy (rushing toward him). Coward! + </p> + <p><br /> + Don Jose. Hold your hand, sir! Hold! I allow no one to correct my + menials but myself. Concho, order my carriage! + </p> + <p><br /> + Concho. It is ready, sir. + </p> + <p><br /> + Don Jose. Then lead the way to it, for my daughter and her husband, John + Oakhurst.—Good-night, Mr. Morton, I can sympathize with you; for + we have both found a son. I am willing to exchange my dismissed servant + for your dismissed PARTNER. + </p> + <p><br /> + Starbottle (advancing). Ged, sir, I respect you! Ged, sir, permit me, + sir, to grasp that honorable hand! + </p> + <p><br /> + Old Morton (excitedly). He is right, my partner. What have I done! The + house of Morton & Son dissolved. The man known as my partner—a + fugitive! No, Alexander! + </p> + <p><br /> + Starbottle. One moment—a single moment! As a lawyer, permit me to + say, sir, that the whole complication may be settled, sir, by the—er—addition + of—er—single letter! The house of Morton & Son shall + hereafter read Morton & Sons. The papers for the legal adoption of + Mr. Oakhurst are—er—in my pocket. + </p> + <p><br /> + Old Morton (more soberly). Have it your own way, sir! Morton & Sons + be it. Hark ye, Don Jose! We are equal at last. But—hark ye, + Aleck! How about the boy, eh?—my grandson, eh? Is this one of the + sons by adoption? + </p> + <p><br /> + Sandy (embarrassedly). It is my own, sir. + </p> + <p><br /> + Capper (advancing). He can with safety claim it; for the mother is on + her way to Australia with her husband. + </p> + <p><br /> + Old Morton. And the schoolma'am, eh? + </p> + <p><br /> + Miss Mary. She will claim the usual year of probation for your prodigal, + and then— + </p> + <p><br /> + Sandy. God bless ye, Miss Mary! + </p> + <p><br /> + Old Morton. I am in a dream! But the world—my friends—my + patrons—how can I explain? + </p> + <p><br /> + Starbottle. I will—er—explain. (Advancing slowly to front—to + audience.) One moment—er—a single moment! If anything that + has—er—transpired this evening—might seem to you, + ladies and gentlemen—er—morally or—er—legally—or + honorably to require—er—apology—or—er—explanation—permit + me to say—that I—Col. Culpepper Starbottle, hold myself + responsible—er—personally responsible. + </p> + <p><br /> + Capper. Concho. + </p> + <p><br /> + Old Morton. Sandy. Miss Mary. Don Jose. Jovita. Oakhurst. + </p> + <p><br /> + Col. Starbottle. + </p> + <p><br /> + Curtain. + </p> + <br /> + </div> + <p><br /> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Two Men of Sandy Bar, by Bret Harte + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK TWO MEN OF SANDY BAR *** + +***** This file should be named 2570-h.htm or 2570-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/2/5/7/2570/ + +Produced by Donald Lainson, and David Widger + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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