t/ / t^ CO//' X-^£/*' "^ i »R 5549 .T4 fl73 :opy 1 PRICE 1^ CE1VT.S. DE WITT'S ACTINO- PLAYS, ep (Number 8.) HENRY DUNBAR; Or, A DAUGHTER'S TRIALS. A. DRAMA, OT FOUR ACTS. By TOM TAYLOE, Esq. Author of "Babes in Vie ^Vood," " The Fool'- Revenge," d-c. dc. AS PRODUCED AT THE BOXAL OLYMPIC THEATRE, LONDON, UNDER THE MANAGEMENT OF MR. HORACE WIGAN, DEC. 9, 1865, AND ATWALIiACK's THEATRE, N. Y., DEC. 1867. TO WHICH ABE ADDED A description of the Costume— Cast of the Characters— Entrances and Exits— Kelative Positions of the Performers on the Stage, and the whole of the Stage Business. Jlthj-gork : ROBERT M. DE WITT, PUBLISHER. 5 y^o. 33 Rose Street. r NIAUD'S PERIL, a Drama, in Four Acts. By Watts Phillips, Esq. JVOTT I Price Fifteen Cents. REJlDY. I NOBODY'S CHILD. A Dramatic Play, in Thre« Acts. By W»tti t Phillips, Esq. Price Fifteen Cents. V v: >^ * ' i ^CTl^Q ^L^TB *^ These Plays will be sent to any address, postage paid, on receipt of price, Fifteen Cents each. R. [i!. DE WITT, FiJBusHcR, No. 33 Rose Street. L Caato. rnm»dy. J Arli. By T. W. Bobcrt- • oti. U »l«le, 3 tVmalf ni«rmLli-ni. ). NobtMlr'a Child. Drunmllr I'lay. 1 ArO. By W.lla riilllllx, Eaq. IK Mule, 1 Pcmcilc ■\, H Mair, \ Pe- ril* 5. SfOO.OOO. By II. J. Hv niAl.- <'li»i>.'tc'ri<. «. DandrllooW ■»od|r<'*- Porrc. 1 Art. By T. J W. Hi, 111-. * »UI.-. 1 Pem.lo Ch«racter». 6. ^Viiilani Trll t ^Vllli ■ VraKvanc*'. llurU-alur. 1 All*. Uy H. J. tlyrull. 8 Msir, 3 Kriii>loCh«rn Irn. t. Nix Month* A|ro. Pun-r. 1 Act. By Pellx I).>l. 1 .M„lr, 1 Kimitls Cburiirli-ra. 7. IHuud-i. I'orli. Dmnia. 4 Arta. ByWatla IMiUu].. I. M.ilc-, 3 Pi'nialo Clmrnrttm. L llpory Ilunhur. Dtani*. 4 Arm. By Tom Tuvl.i,. 10 M«l<-, 1 Poliialo riKrmrl-ni. %. A i-Varfui 'ErmtcrAj \m tha Mown DIaln. A P*i.-|rHl lnl.Tlu>l>'. I Ait. Il.v Cllailia Srll.». 4 Mali', 1 Frllialc Chnlnrlrra. 10. Thr Nnapplnir Turtica t or, MatrllnniiUI Ui>i..|il>-ii»tlnK. l)<>l•lM|:tl,^ I Art. Uy Jnliu B. Ilurk. Ciiineily Par. .'. 1 Ari>. Bv Juhii Maddlaon MortoD. 4 Mnl.-. 4 Fitni.! riialai-lrra. 1^ \ Wldo-kv tlunt. rmiicdy. 3 Art*. (Al- tru-.l liiini Ilia own ii.nicily of " Kveiylwily'a Pilrii.l."! Ily J. htlrllriic eiiynr. 4 Malr, 4 Foinalp Cllarartria. 11. Ita^ Blaa. Konianllr Drama. 4 Acta. Pinm till- Piriirli n( Victor Hugo, 13 Male, 4 P.Miial.- ClLirailtra. 14. No ThoroUKhfarr. Drama. S Ann ami a l-nilKKiir. llyChailra Dirkrna and Wllklu I'olMiia. 1.1 Male, S Pcmalo Cliararlcra. 15, Milk 7 Whitr. Domeatir Diama. 3 Aria. By H. 1'. CiaM'ii. 4 Male, 3 Prmalc Charartm. It. Dxarer thaa Llfr. Hirlo-cninlr Drama. 3 Art.. Ily lli-nry J. Byron. C Wale, 1 Pemale Cliarartrin. IT. Klad to a rault. Tamedy. 3 Acta. By Wllllani BrouKli. (, Male, 4 Pemale Ctiarart.ra. It. IT I had a Thouaaad a Year. Parrr. 1 Art. By Jolin MadJIaun Morton. 4 Male, 1 Prm.leriiai altera. If. Ilr-a a Luaatlc. Farre. 1 Art By Felix Hal.' ] Mall'. 3 Female Cliarartera. tt. Daddx C^ray. .Serli>K'onilr Drama, 1 Acta. «y Andrew llalllilay. I Male, 4 Pemale Clialartera. lU riaj. 1 .( : 11) Maik l.emna. IS Male, 'i4 P. 111. I. ( li....'lrr. f. CabiBaa Mo. »3i ar, Found In a Four Wbaelar Fane. I Art. My 1'. J. William.. ( Male, 1 Female Character*. , Tha Drokra-Bearled CInb. Comedietta. By J..MIrllni;i:<>)>ie. 4 Male, H Female Char- ai lira. , Noclrlj. f.iinady. 3 Acta. By T. W, Kob- •'I l»>ii. IC Male, 6 Female Cliaraitert. , Tlai>.< aod Tide. Drama. 3 Acta and a Pn>- loKiie. Il> Henry Ix-alle. 7 Male, S Female Cliaiacteia. , A Ilapp7 Pair. Comadlitta. 1 Act. By M. riuyre .smith. 1 Male, 1 Female Cbarae- t.'ra. , Turalaic the Tablalirw and hd- ward«. i M«l.'. 3 Pemale Cliarartera. . TamlaiC a Tl^er. Pan e. 1 Art. 3 Male Cliarartera. . The Little Rebel. Farce. 1 Act. By J. MhlliiK Coyne. 4 Male, 3 Female Vhan«- ti-ra. , One too Many for nlm. Uy T. J. U'llllaniH. 3 Male, By J. Pal- 7 Male, S Blark Nheep. Drama. 3 iCiare Slni|>i>i.ii and Kilmiind Female Cliarartera. A Mllrat I'rotector. Farce. 1 Act. By T. J. Willlnma. 3 Male, 3 Pcmala Charactora. The nlxhtful Heir. Diania. t Acta. By l."id I..M1.111 lu Male, 3 Female Charactera. Maater Jonra' Ulrthdajr. Farce. 1 Act. By J.iliii .^laddiaoli Mertou. 4 Male, 3 F.>mala Character.. Atchl. Comedietta. 1 Act. By J. Maddlaoa Murluri. .1 M^ile, 3 Pemale Character*. Bvautirul Koreaer. Fane. t Ae<. By Pn.Krl'k IU\. 3 Male, 'J Female Cbaractara. Time and the Hoar. Drama. • Acta. Ily J. I'alk-rate >rrii| "-on and Pellx t>ale. 7 Male, 3 Female Cliaia.tera. HIaterlr «ler»lce. Comedlrtta. 1 ArU B> J. I*. Wooler. 7 Male, 3 Female Cbaractei*. 'War to the Kaife. Comedy. 1 mcU. By lleiii> J ll>roii. :>Male,4 Pemale Cbaractera. Our nomeatlc-a. Comedy-Farre. ' 1 Act*. Il> Piederick Ha;. ( Male, « Female Ch*r> Mlrlam'a Crime. Drama. k Acta. By II. T. Ciaven. i Male, 3 r'eniala Chararter*. Eaav Shairliaa Farce. 1 Act. By F. C. Burnand an. I M..nta(ue Wllllama. » Male, 1 Female riiararlera. Little Aaale-a Ulrtbdajr. Parra. Rf W. K. .Sulei -i M.le, 4 Pemale CTiaracleim. J< HENRY DUNBAR; A DAUGIITEPJS TPJALS. A DRAMA IN FOUR ACTS. BOUNDED ON MISS EUADDON'S NOVEL OF THE SAME NAME. Bt TOM TAYLOE, Esa., AulJiOr of " Babes in Ike n'ood," " The FooVs Revenge," etc AS PEODrCED AT TUE KOTAL OLYMPIC TnEATEE, LOXDOX, XJNDEE THE MANAGEMENT OF MK. HOKACE WIGAN, DEC. 9, 1865, AND AT Wallace's theatre, NEW YORK, NOV. 2, 18G7. TO WHICH IS ADDED A DESCRIPTION OF THE COSTUME— CAST OF THE CnARACTERS— EN- TRANCES AND EXITS— RELATIVE POSITIONS OF THE PER- FORMERS ON THE STAGE, AND THE WHOLE OF THE STAGS BUSINESS. NEW YORK: ROBERT W. DE WITT, PUBLISHER, NO. 33 EOSE STKEET. HENRY DUNBAR. r.K55^V-^ CAHT OF CUARACTEBS. Rnyal Olympic TJteatre, London, Ue.c. 9, 1867. Ilenry Dunbar Mr. H. Neville. Clement Austin Mr. H. J. Montague. Arthur Lovell Mr. H. G. Clifford. Henry Carter, a Detective Mr. R. Soutab. The Major, with several aliases 3Ir. G. Vincent. Jorrams, Head Waiter at the George. Mr. H. Coopee. Hartogg, a Jewel Merchant Mr. H. Rivers. Balderby, Junior Partner in the house of Dunbar & Balderby :Mr. S. H. Williams. Thomas Tibbs, Carter's Mate IMr. Franks. Office Messenger Mr. Cowdery. Margaret Wentworth Miss Kate Terry. Laura Dunbar Miss Ellen Leigh. Mary Madden Miss E. Farren. Wallack's Theatre, Nev, York, Nov. 2, 1867. Mr. J. W. Wallack. Mr. B. T. Ringgold. Mr. C. H. Rockwell. Mr. A. W. Young. Mr. E. L. Davenport. Mr. Geo. Holland. Mr. J. C. Williamson. Mr. G. Browne. Mr. T. Ward. Mr. E. Cashin. Miss Rose Eytinge. Miss Annie Ward. Miss Mary Barrett. PROPERTIES. Parcel, letter, prospectus, card, umbrella, "Times" newspaper, dispatch-box, handcuffs, lighted candles, papers, letter and portrait in desk, a diary, tea-table and tea things, envelope ^ud letter, sandwich-box (containing diamond paper) with chain to fasten round waist, diamonds, account books, bank notes, check-book, old shoe, bottles and glasses, brandy, leather belt divided into compartments, little canvas- bag, wine, revolver, night-lamps, pens, ink and paper, oil for lamp. TIME— THE PRESENT DAY. COSTUMES— OF THE PERIOD. Stage Direction.— R. means Right of Pt^go, facing the Audience; L. Left; C. Centre ; R. C. Right of centre ; L. C. Left of centre. D. F. Door in the Flat, or Scene running across the back of the Stage ; C. D. F. Centre Door in the Flat ; R. D. F. Right Door in the Flat ; L. D. F. Left Door in the Flat ; R. D. Right Door ; L. D. Left Door ; 1 E. First Entrance ; 2 E. Second Entrance ; U. E. Upper En- trance ; 1, 2 or 3 G. First, Second or Third Groove. TIME IN REPRESENTATION-THREE HOURS. QiFT EST. OF J H. CORNING JUNE 20. 19-VQ HKXUY DUXBAn. SCENERY. ACT I.— h'cENK 1. Cottage, humble, but prettily furnished. Bow Window. Door. (G. 1.) Door. "^ 5lCT I.— Scene 2. Handsome sitting-room— folding doors at the back opening on ~^. landing. ) I I I Folding Doors. r Fireplace. Easy Chair.j Door. ACT II.— Scene 1. Drawing-room luxuriously furnished. Door. Tripod Tea-table. ACT II.~?Ce.\e 2. A\"aiting-room in the Bank. HEIfEY DUNBAU. ACT II.— Scene 3. The Bank Parlor. "Window with blinds. Glass Doors with Curtains. I Door. Door. Door. Door. ACT III.-SCENE. Picturesque Elizabethan Eoom, tapestry hung or panncllcd. I I AVindow looking on Autumnal Landscape. Door. (E. 3) (E. 3) Door. r Fireplace. Bide Table. (E. 1) Door. ACT rv'.— Scene 1.— Same as last. ACT rv.— Scene 2. Entrance Hall of Woodbine Cottage. ACT IV.— Scene 3. Sitting-room. Wiikdow. Easy Chair.! Door. [For Synopsis of the Plaij, see iia^es 33, 39 and 40.] HEITEY DUE"BAR. ACT I. SCENE FIRST. — Boom in Margaret Wenttcorth's cottage at Wandsworth, humble but prettili/ furnished—bow tctndow C, with muslin curtain, door K. and L. {1st grooves)— a loud ring heard as the curtain rises. Enter Maky, l. Makt Bless my 'art, whoever's that a ringin' at the garden gate, as if they'd wrinch the wire out 1 {looking out at wimiow) My, it it ain't a foot- man and carriage ! And if there aint that darhn' Miss Laura Dunbar a settin' out Oh, if all Miss Margaret's pupils was like her! {shuts gate) I don't mind the footman airiu' his calves, but I can't keep her waitin . [Exit Mary, l. Enter Laura, l., escorted by Mary, carrying a parcel. Laura Well Mary, vou never saw me arrive in feiie state-coach be- fore, {speaks of) Oh, tell George the carriage can wait. I've brought you your aunt Madden's love, Mary. Mary. Thank you, miss ; nothing else, miss 1, Laura. No, did you expect anything '? . , • o Mary. I hoped she might have found me a situation, please miss i Laura. Why, you're not going to leave Miss Wentworth 1 ^ Mary Oh, please miss, she says she can't aftbrd two, and she's coram to a maid of all work. Both me and cook wants to stop if it was at a re- duction and no beer ; but cook's to stop 'cos I can't undertake the kitchen. -,r , , • ^i- Laura. You shall come to me, Mary. Dear nnrsey Madden is getting old, and you can take the fag off her hands— dressing me and making the' five o'clock tea, and all that. Mary. Call tliat fag, mi.ss 1 Fun I call it. Oh, I shall be so happy ! Laura. We shall be very good friends, I'm sure— I always get so fond of ray maids. - ^ e a ^ Mary. Which it's wicy wersa, miss, I'm sure they must get so lond o Laura. I'm glad Miss Wentworth is not here— I've a surprise for her, a little birth-day i)re^ent, but it's such a secret. I may run up with it into her pretty bed-room, mayn't 1 1 I'll be so good and not rummage a 6 nEXKY DUJN'BAK. bit, and if she comes in before I'm down, you may say I'm there, buinot a word of this {s/.oivs pared) or I shall be so angry, (/vfws off] r.) Mary. Ah, bless lier bright eyes, she's lilie the patent gold reviver comin' into a place, she is. Oh, slian't I be happy dressin' her ! {knock, l., loo/cs out) Two gents : what do they want, I wonder. [£xit, h. Ee-enter iinmediately, l., showing in Carter. Carter. So, Miss Wentworth's not at home, eh 1 {sits down, looks sharp- ly about him.) Mary. Would you leave a message, sir 1 Carter. Well, I dont know that I can exactly. Maky. Which if I might asli, was it lessons, sir 1 Carter. Well, I don't know but what it might end in lessons. I've heard so much of Miss AVentworth's teaching. Mary. Ah, that you may well say, which I've heard there ain't any- thing better to be had from the Royal. Academy of Harts, not if you was to give pounds where Miss Marg'ret she have shillins, bless her 1 Carter. And a steady, hard-working girl, too, I'm told 1 Mary. Steady, sir ! Well, if llvin' on short allowance for a sparrer, and workin' as regular as the clock, and spendin' next to nothin' on her- self, and never havin' a hard word for nobody makes a hangel. Miss Mar'gret's one, which I often says " if all has their rights," I says, "yours is the 'evins abovf," I says! Carter. Well, if Miss Wentworth ain't at home, perhaps her father is 1 Mary. No, sir, he are not. Carter. Ah, sorry for that, I should a' liked to have made his ac- quaintance. He's obliged to be away from home a great deal, I sup- pose 1 Mary. Quite off and on, sir ; sometimes he'll be here a month togeth- er, then away a week, then at home a day or two, and so on. And Miss Margaret is that fond of him 1 Carter. Poor girl, she must find his being away so much a great an- noyance 1 Mary. She do take on about it, sir ; but, bless you, she's such a pa- tient creature. Carter. And business is business. I'll be bound he's not much here in business liours 1 Oftenest after dark 1 — I daresay. Mary. It is mostly latish. Carter. He was here last night, you said 1 Mary. Did I ! well, I must have mentioned it promisc;(s then. Least- ways he tvas here, and left early this morning by first train for South- ampton, as far as I understood him and Miss Margaret's talk about it at breakfast. Carter (to himsc'f). Too late ! I was afraid I should. However, the Major's at Winchester, and Southampton will be all in my road. There's a train in ten minutes. Well, my dear, when Miss Wentworth comes in Mary. Oh ! here is Miss Margaret ! Enter Margaret Wentworth, l. — Carter bows. Marg. A stranger ! {looks at him.) Mary. A gent as have called about lessons. Miss. Marg. Oh I shall be very glad, I'ni sure ; I've rather too many hours open just now. ACT I. 7 Carter. Well, 3-ou see my good lady was thinking of having our girl put to a good music mistress, but I was to inquire about terms first. Maro. {(joiiKj to mco/tel-piccc). Here is one of my prosi)ectuses,. sir. (,Mary ffivcs her a letter) A letter in papa's handwriting ! Carter (asulc). Poor young thing, poor young thing ! Mary. And please miss. Miss Laura's up stair in your room. Marg. Miss Dunbar ! I'll come to her. Mary. Yes, miss, I'll tell her. {aside) 1 wonder is it an Area-sneaii 1 [JiXtt, K Marg. If you'll excuse me— when you have made up your mind as to my terms {ijiv.ikj pro'pectns) you can let me know. Carter. Thank you, miss ! it's my good lady you see, she's that par- ticular to a shilling or two. {looks at card) I'm sure they seem very mod- erate. Marg. They enable me to live, sir, and to pay my way, I can't venture to aslc more. Carter. It's a hard life, miss, for one so j'oung and delicate looking. Marg. Oh, I'm stronger than I look, and I've been used to hard work, and then independence is very sweet. Carter. Yes, but going about giving lessons is rather too indepen- dent, I should have thonght, for an unprotected girl like you. Marg. Unprotected, sir ! I can dispense with proteciors ; I've been used to take my own part. Carter. And quite right too, my dear, (she looks annoyed) Excuse me, miss, I don't mean it as a liberty, but I've one about your age at home. {earncstli/) Heaven bless you, my i)oor child ! Heaven bless you, and keep you ! Tiiere s no harm in that. Marg. No, sir ; good wishes can never harm us when they're in ear- nest, and I feel yours are. Carter {gomg). Good morning, {offers hand) No offence, {aside) Now for Southampton. I'm glad he ain't here. I shouldn't have had the heart to clinch him afore that innocent face o' hers. Hallo ! Masler Car- ter, stow tlial, 'twon't do for you to be turning spooney. [Erit, l. Marg. Very extraordinary jjerson, to be sure ; but papa's letter ! [tak- ing t( Old.) What can be the secret he dared write but not speak 1 Oh, if I could but wean him from his dark life and desperate courses — if he would but slay here and be always his better self, that others might know the good in him as I do. {opens the letter and reads) " My darling— (kisses the letter) You know I am bound for Southamiiton, but not my errand there. I told you my first crime was Ibrgery {she shudders) com- mitted to save a young master whom I loved very dearly. The forgery was detected, my master was screened, sent out to India. I was denounc- ed, tried, sentenced. He might have stood between me and the law, but he refused to speak a word or lift a hand in my behalf. From that day I was a bliglited, branded man ; I tried to get back to honest courses, but my crime stood between me and them {slie sobs) till I gi-ew what I am, an outcast, everyone's hand against me, and my hand against everyone." Oh no, father, not ever.yone's ! I pity you. {resumes her reading.) " Iloarn't yes- terday that this man is coming back to England. I mean to meet him, to see if he will do more now for the man whose ruin lies at his door than he would twenty-five yeais ago, and if he won't, to give htm a piece of nig mind;" why has he undtylined that 1 "1 dared not tell you tliis last night — I knew you would dissuade me." Oh, yes, yes ! " I write you his name that you may remember it, not in your prayers, as that of 'the author of your falher's ruin m this world and the next. It is Henry Dunbar!" Henry Dunbar! Laura's father! There is indeed a gulf henceforth between her innocent heart and mme ! I wish I could have 8 HENEY DirifBAE. stayed him from this journey, — my mind misgives me, lest some terrible consequence result from this meeting. Who s there 1 Enter Clement Austin, l. Clem. Forgive me for entering unannounced ! Miss Wentworth, you looli pale, I'm afraid I havefriglitened you. Makg. No, no ! It is nothing ; I have not been very strong of late, and a little startles me ; won't you sit down, {they sit.) Clem. Oh, Miss Wentworth, if you would but take more care of your- self. , , , . Maro. No, I can't afford to be fanciful. You and your mother want to spoil me. As it is, you and your mother pay me twice my terms for your niece's lessons. Clkm. Pay you ! as if anything could pay for the privilege Marg. {i)itcm(pting). Ah, you mean you steal a lesson, at the same time Yes, you are certainly tlie most attentive of uncles. Clem. {earnes>tly a^td impatiently). Oh, this persiflage is idle. Miss Went- wortli — Margaret ■ Marg. Mr. Austin'. Clem. Let me call you so : you cannot have misunderstood my feel- ings. Marg. Yes ! I feel your kind, your compassionate interert in me — your's and your mother's. Clem. You talk of interest. Miss Wentworth. That may have first in- spired tlie wish to serve you. Marg. I felt it, I felt it all. Clem. But as I came to learn your sweet and self-devoted nature, as I sat by your side and marked your gentle grace, and drank tlie music of your voice, pity kindled to passion, and interest became love 5 yes, Mar- garet, I love you ! {[lifting to her side.) Marg. (extricating herself and turning away) No ! no ! Clem. With a love as true, as pure, as full of reverent regard as ever man felt for woman, I love you, Margaret ! ]\Iarg. It must not be, Mr. Austin ! There is a impassable barrier be- tween me and such feelings. Clem. You love another 1 Marg. No ! Clem. Then you vncst love me, Margaret. If not now, in time. A love like mine mnst command an answer. Marg. Not from me ! Clem. Not from you! You, whose tenderness brims over to meet every advance from a pupil, a child, a pet bird ! And you cannot love ! Margaret I will not believe it ! Marg. Mr. Austin you force me to trust you with a secret which has been my own misery, night and day, since I learnt it, {loiv and slowly and h'df averting herfaee) My father is a dishonored man — an outcast. {still lower and more sadly) a criminal ! Clem. My poor love ! And he is your father. Marg. And yet if you knew all, you would judge him mercifully, I am sure you would — I do, my mother did, she died with a prayer that he • might be brought to see the error of liis ways, and I prayed with her. Till I grew up our life was one of wandering and wretchedness. At times my father got employment, but before long the curse followed us : a breath, a whisjjer was enough; he never found any one to hold out a hand to the outcast and say, "I know j'our past, I will help you to re- deem your future." Not one ! not one ! {pa:isc\ Now you know the bar- ACT I, g nj-^that stands between Margaret Wentvvorth and th« love of an honest Clem. Not so, Margaret, Knowincr all this mxr niiti,^,, i I know it again I say? Margaret WeuTu^lthrbe n y f Tny w^e'^'"" Marg. My generous, my noble Clement! Tes ' I lo^e To r ;..^; h« your own, but not yet. I have a work to do : to win bick' my LtT.er to the nght way : we will watch over him together, with lovitToSs wi h prevaiimg prayers ! Oh, Clement, it will be a grievous "rruSe A ^ you strong enough to go through it 1 l,uevous stiuggle. Aie Clem. Yes, Margaret, if I may share it with you Marg. God bless you, my own Clement (solamdu ) Laura {icithout). Margaret ! . ■' Marg. Hark ! Laura's voice ! Clement, I must leave you ' (Clement uT y^'T^ '" '"'f ■ ^'""^'-'^'^i'^ff) How shaU I meet her, wihniy father's wrongs between us 1 ' ■' ^"^'^ei ? [Exeunt Clement, l., and Margaret, r.. dosed in by ,SCENE SECOND— /«/fr;or of a handsome sitting-room at the " Genrne " Wmche^er~^old.ng doors at the back opening on lanlg-JoL r S L Fire-plaee xoithfire burning, r. Easy chair%. ff—»°<»-', «• ancl l. Enter the Major, c, caiUioiisly looking about him, ami humming, to " The light of other days," ^ The tog3 of other days are faded And all their glory fled ! I once was the flower, now I'm the seer! i V/>a \To;^« . j your luck, disgustingly downrthe^r"ps^.rI"af^rTou!n"t^^^^ yX.'^ lage so you tried country air for the benefit of yourheaUh and your on v visible resource is now the k'rect cvn.-r) f^c *j. w- , ";" ami jour only h,A.brA as 0. Smith'used to^^ra" l^Jt^wJC^J^Sl!'''' ^'''l off the load of this wofld-weary flesh. '' ^t^^ P-f^ A P cl't S of Ih el; ''X.: ";?f "'' '' T' ''^t'^^y -iof oSsion'inTh 'wa^ :i irthes^^p:yi,!Sir,E ft4?,/ts^^^^ rresramisi:arrtf"'^v'"\°' r^^'^- ^^^^-sJz::J'^; ^i^iiesn ana so are the natives, (readspaper.) « •=yy'» 10 HENKY DUNBAR, Bntcr JerrAMS, R., fo lay the cloth, hcgins lis work, at first not seeing the Ma- jor hihind the " Times, ' but sccDtg him, pauses. Jer. a party ! {pauses mul worhs round so as to f/et a survei/) not much of a party, to judge by liis boots ! {iii di-i/ust at the Major's seedmess) Sir ! (Major continues to read) Sir ! {same bus ness : very loud) Sir ! Major {looking over the jjupe?-). Sir, to yoii ! {resumes his reading.') Jkr. Was you aware, sir, tliis were a private room"? Major. Well, James 1 {mildly.) Jer. Which my name is not James, sir. It is hoccupied by two gents. JIajor. Pardon me, John, Jer. AVliich my name is not John, neither, sir. Major. Not John either 1 Is it possible ! Jer. Which my name is Jerrams, sir. Major. Oh, thank you. Then allow me to remark, Jerrams, that this room is occupied, not by two gents, Jerrams, but by one gent, Jerrams, that's you, and one gentleman, that's me. {resumes paper.) Jer. 'Ang his himpidence ! I tell you, sir, this apartment is took, and nobody but the party as belongs to it has any business here, {lays cloth.) Major. Then what are you laying the cloth for, Jerrams 1 Jer. What for '? 'Cos ii's my business. Major. Yet you say nobody but the party as belongs to the room has any business in it. You are not the party as belongs to the room, ergo you have no business in it, ergo you had better go. That's a syllogism, Jerrams. Jer. Sillygism or not, sir, I 'ave to beg you'll walk out o' this. Major. Out of this, Jerrams ! Out of what ] Jer. Out of this private sitting-room, sir, which its engaged by Mr, Henry Dunbar, the great banker that's just come from Indy by this day's P. and 0. boat, worth a million o' money, they say, if he's worth a penny, and his friend. Major {aside). That's Joe ! So, so. He has hooked something like a fish — a million pounder ! {to Jerrams) I'm quite aware of the fact, Jer- rams. I'm a friend of j\Ir. Dunbar's, once removed, that is, I'm his friend's friend ; our friend's friends should be o.ur friends, so I have called to make his acquaintance — (Jerrams looks at him curiously) and if by that inquiring look you mean to ask me if I'll take anything before dinner in the way of a pick-up, Jerrams, you may bring me a pint of pale sherry and a biscuit, and put it down to our friend Dunbar. Jer. {aside). Well, he is a cool hand ! Pint o' sherry indeed ! Major. Dry, Jerrams, mind ; and while you are about it, you may as well devil that biscuit. Jer, Oh, he's too many for me, by a long chalk ! I"ll send master, [Exit Jerrams, r. Major {looking about him). Our friend Dunbar's traps, I see, all tip-top, (^takes a dispatch box) Braniah lock ! {tries it in his hand) looks like money, and feels heavy. Tempting — but honor, major 1 You are mider the roof of a friend, and if I know you, you are not the man to violate its sanc- tuary. Ilnter Jerrams, r. 1 e. Jer. I beg your pardon, sir, but was you the major 1 Major. That is my military rank, Jerrams ; I go by the name among my intimates. ACT I. 11 Jer. Then there's one of your intimates in the bar iii(£uiriu' partickler after you. Majok. Indeed! Did he give a name 1 {uncasUij.) Jer Which I think I 'eard master call 'im Carter. Major. Harry Carter {aside) i\\e detective! Scotland Yard, by jingo ! Did you say I was liere 1 Jer. Yes, s r. Sliall 1 ask him to walk up "? JNIa.tor. Oil, no, I won't ))ut liim to the trouble of coming to me, I'll go down to him : tell him so, Jerrams. {looking about the room.) Jer. Yes, sir. [ii'ai< Jerrams,' k. Major. A back staircase I I'll bolt, {going, l., — Tibbs appears at tlie door, L.) Tibbs. No, you don't. Major. Major. Carter's mate ! (Carter appears at the door, r.) Carter. And Carter ! {slips the handcuffs on, as he speaks) How are you, Major 1 Major. Dropped a top of! 'Well, I came down for the races ; but I'd no notion of winning a cotiple of darbies, {looking at handcuffs) You might have let me get through the week, Harry. Think of my engage- ments. Carter. You must tell 'em you'd a previous engagement with me How are they ? (<« allusion to hand-cuffs) Comfortable 1 Major. Tightish, {sighs) but, in tliis world, one mustn't be particular. Carter {feels them). I thought I'd got your size. Major. Oh, they'll do very well. I say, what am I wanted for, Har- ry 1 Carter. That Cheapside job — old Abram's you know. Major. What, the jeweller 1 {radiant) My dear fellow, it's a mistake That was Scotch Bob and the Yokel. I wa.sn't in it at all. Carter {smiling). All the better for you. Of course, you've your alibi all sciuare 1 {puts his finger to his nose.) jNIajor. I wasn't, Harry, upon my honor ! You know I'm not the maq to deceive you. Carter. I don't think you are, Major — not if I know it. However, if you ain't in it, notliing can come out of it. But I say. Major, I want your pal — Wentworth, alias Wilmot, you know ? Major {drylg). Oh, do you though 1 Carter, I thought I was dead on him at Southampton, but he's dou- bled on us. If you could give me the office, I'd make it worth your while. Major {ivith dignity). Mr. Carter, I thought you had known me better. Might I trouble you {to Tibbs) to take out my handkerchief and wipe away a tear, {to Carter) Mr. Carter, you have woimded my belief in my fellow creatures ! Carter. By the waj'. Major, they only allow second class fares. If you would prefer first, and like to pay tlie difference. Major. Thank j'ou, Harry, I am sensible of the delicate attention. MigJit I trouble you {to Tibbs) to pull down my cuffs 1 Now then ! {aside) Joe ought to be much obliged to me. Carter. I say, though, couldn't we square it about your pal ] Major. Henry, don't oblige me to be personal. Unter Jerrams, r., excited. Jer. Here's Mr. Dunbar. 'Was vou a-going, sir 1 What shall I say to your friend 1 Major. Tell him not to wait dinner for me, Jerrams. Carter. Say the Major is going to spend the evening with me. {JEx^ 12 nENRT nUNBAR. euHt Major and CAnTEB., followed hj Tibbs, k — Jerrams, after a rapid ex- ecution of the usual waiter^s mumcuvrcs at the table, throws open the c. door — two undcr-waiters enter with liejlited candles, bowing very low, and retirDxj, after tisheriny in Wextwortu dise/msed as Henky Duneab — he takes oj/-' hs tvraj)- per, goes toh s travelling-bag, ijr.) Jer. Would you wisli dinner to be served, sir ? You ordered it at seven, it's getting ou for l)alf-})ast. Dunbar. Tlianii you, I'll wait for my companion. He's only gone as far as St. Cross, with a message from me to my old schoolfellow, Strat- ton. Jeu. Beg pardon, sir, but was it Jlr. Stratton, of the Hollies, sir 1 Dunbar. Yes. Jer. Mr. Stratton has been dead this ten years, sir. Dunbar. Dead! dear me! {sighs) and who lives at the Hollies now 1 Jer. His widder, sir. Dunbar. No doubt she's keeping Wiimot for an answer to my note. Dead, eh 1 Well, we old Indians must expect that sort of thing. Jer. Yes, sir, people will drop olf, sir, as the saying is, sir. Would you 'ave up the soup, sir 1 Dunbar. No, 1 won't sit down till Mr. Wiimot returns. We're to dine together, and I've a great deal to talk over with him. Jer. Naturally, sir — an old friend, I 'spose, sirl Dunbar. Yes, though a humble one. We were boys together, and more like friends than m*aster and servant. Jer. Servant ! bless me, sir, who'd ha' thought it, sir, to 'ear you and him talking so free together this morning ! Dunbar. Oh, our old feeling came back directly I found liira on the pier ready to receive me. No, I won't sit down without Wiimot. Wheel this chair and table near the fire — so ; give me my writing-case — yonder. (Jerrams obeys orders) Serve dinner the moment Mr. Wiimot arrives. (tries to open his dispcdeh box, but bungles at the key which hangs tvith others at his wettch chiin. {exit Jerrams, c.) passes his handover his brow, looks at him- self in glass, sighs, but by an eff'ort reyains h'S self-jjossessiofi, (ypens desk, and looks at pajjo-s, takes out jyackct endorsed) Now for it ! my daughter's letters — her portrait, too. {looks at it, 2)ats it aside) Poor girl — poor girl ! {takes out other packets) Letters from my X)artners ! — abstract of bank returns — memoranda as to investments, {gets out book) Diary — Ah, that's i>recious. {lays it aside) Balderby's last letter, announcing that Sampson Wiimot — yes, that's Joseph Wilmot's brother, the old man who had the fit on the road — the only man in or about the house who knows my face would be at Southampton to receive me. His brother came instead ; a far more available man than poor old Sampson ! More letters ! I shall have a hard night's work, but I don't care for sleeping in a railway carriage. I don't feel much like sleep anywhere. Enter Jerrams, c. Jfr. If you please, sir, it's getting on for eight, sir, and I beg your pardon, sir, but missus is a good deal worrited about the soup, sir. Dunbar. Never mind the soup. Jer. No, sir, certainly not, sir, but 5-ou see, sir, you being from India, sir, and missus so proud of her receipt for Mulligatawny, sir, which she had it from a native, I ve understood her, that come over 'ere as a prince, sir, but turned out on'y a ship's cook, sir, and run up a 'eavy bill, sir, and nothing for it but that receipt, Dunbar. Tell her I never take soup. Jer. No, sir, in course not, sir — dear me, sir, don't you, sir ! that will ACT II. 13 be a very great disappointment to missus, sir. Wliat wine would )'ou be })leased to order, sir ! Here s the wine carte, sir. (yives it) Our i'rencli wine's generally approved, and there's a very i)articular forty slierry, sir. Dunbar. Cliabhs with the lish, Clos Voiiglot wiih the removes; set it near tlie lire for live minutes, and i)Ut some Champagne in iee. Je'k. Yes, sir, certainly, sir. Du^'BAR {rismg and tvallcing up (did doivn). Reall)', this is rather cool treatment of Wilmot's. An hour about a mile walk ! It can't be more than a mile % Jek. No, sir, I shoidd say not, sir — I beg your i:)ardon, sir, but from what to which 1 DuxBAR. From where I left him, the second field past the cathedral. Jer. Not a mile from there to the Hollies, sir. It's just through Hag Bottom, sir, that's the wood in the next field, sir. Dunbar. I know ; I left him on this side of it. The road's perfectly safe, I suppose 1 Jer. Oh, dear, yes, sir, safe as the bank, sir. That is, to be sure, there's the hoppers beginning to be about, and they re a roughish lot, you know, sir — Irish, a good many on 'em, and I can't abear Irish. Dunbar. Besides, it was broad daylight, {sits) No, I've no doubt 'Wil- mot has found snug quarters at the Hollies, and is talking over me and my atl'airs with my old schoolfellow s widow. Long as I've known Wil- mot, and much as I value him, he's an inveterate gossip! Jer. Yes, sir, he did seem a pleasant, cheerful party, sir. {mm-murs heard wi hout) Perhaps I'd better go and order the wine, sir, {he goes to C. doors, as he opens them, a miir»iiroach. Major — I shall have to say to myself for some time to come — Major, you're an ass! Major, you're a moon-calf! Bald. Pooh, pooh, sir ! I'm not hurt : a brush and a basin will do all that's necessary — so good morning. Major. Good morning I By the way, I should like to know the name of my preserver — that is the gentleman I've had the misfortune (Bal- DEREY g res card) Balderby ! Mister Balderby of the Great Indian House of Dunbar, Dunbar and Balderby ! My name is Vernon, ]\Iajor Vernon ; I've the pleasure of a slight acquaintance with Mr. Dunbar, and was com- ing here to improve it. Bald. Ah, made in India, I sup[)0se 1 Major. Exactly, in India, up country; I've been knocked about in most quarters of the globe. Then we had a mutual accpiaintauce, that poor fellow Wilmot Bald. What, Joseph Wilmot, the man who IMajor. Exactly ! melancholy case. May I ask if Mr. Dunbar is in the house at present ! Bald. He's expected every minute. ACT II. 19 Ma JOB (aside). If I could draw him of a fiver — a post obit on poor Joe's account ! (to Balderby) I should like to see him, to talk over our old Indian reminiscences. Bald, {aside), free and easy— ;-looks shabby — dare say Dunbar has known some queer customers in India. If you'll send in your name to Mr. Dunbar, Major Unter Haktogg, l. Ah, Mr. Hartogg ! Our first diamond merchant, Major ! {(hey bote) Major {aside). A diamond merchant ! My heart warms to him, and hands too. {breathes on hisjin(jcrs, while he speaks Balderby and Hartogg talk (ipnrt.) Bald. What ! j-ou don't mean that Mr. Dunbar has begun buying dia- monds already 1 Hart. Means to give his daughter the finest thing in brilliants ever made up, so he has sent for me, and samples of my best stones. Bald, {shrugs his shoulders). Well, if he likes to make ducks and drakes of his money ! Hart. AVould you like to see the stones, Mr. B. 1 {gelling out diamond paper from sandicieh box, fastened round his waist by ciiain) There's beauties, single and double cut ! Bald. No, no ; Ive no taste for such trumpery, if Dunbar has. I'll Bend you word when he comes. [Exit Balderby, l. Hart. Trumpery ! Call stones like these " trumpery >l' ^lajor ? Major. A narrow-minded man, sir ! Only understands money in the rough, /know something about stones, I flatter myself; if you would permit me to glance at them. (Hartogg opens jiaper.) Hart. There, I think you'll own these sjiecimen brilliants are stunners; they'll cat into about three hundred a piece ! Major {taking the paper\ Beautiful, beautiful 1 No objection to my flashing 'em a little, eh'? (flashes diamonds in paper) A perfect feast of iri- discence ! {as Hartogg folds up the other paper] the Major, still pretending to look eit the stones, is about to palm one.) Unter Carter, r. Carter. Mind, Major ! Your cuff's so wide one of 'em might slip up, {taking stones from him, folds jm^m- and gives it baek to Hartogg") Best put 'em up, Mr. Hartogg, they're ticklish things to handle. Major {aside). Confound his interference — it's luihandsome ! Hart. I little expected to see you here, Mr. Carter. Carter. The Major here is an old friend of mine. I saw him come in with Mr. Balderb}', and could not resist the temptation of shaking hands. Major {aside to htm, severehj). None of your chaff, sir. Hart, {lookvig off, l.). Well, I'm off to the parlor, here's the Governor. Major {shows agitation). Where 1 {looking off, l., starts) That ! By George ! Carter {looks sharp at him). You've seen him before 1 Major. Yes, in India ; you know I stopped there on my way home from Carter. Australia, eh 1 {looking signifieanthj at him.) Major. Exactly, when I came home as subaltern in charge of invahds. Carter {aside to him). Yoa are a cool hand, Mnjf)r. Major {aside to Carter). If you must spoil sport, Harry, you needn't take away a fellow's character. 20 HENEY DTJNBAU. Enter Messenger, l. Messen. Mr. Dunbar will see Mr. Hartogg. [Exit Hartogg. Major {writing on card inpeiwtl). Take iu my card, Major Vavasour ! [Exit Messenger, l. Carter. Hallo, Major, another alias 1 Major. You drive me to it, Harry ; you've no respect for the feelings of a fellow's godfathers and godmothers. Carter. I was just iu time; another minute and you would have ramped one of those sparklers, you know you would. Major. Your remark is i>ersonal, Mr. Carter. You nobbled me at Winchester on an unfounded charge ; you ought to be ashamed of your- self. Luckily I did prove my alibi then, to the satisfaction of a jury of my countrymen ; but if I'm to have yon alwaj's at my heels, I might as well be in quod at once ; so good morning, Mr. Carter. [Exit Major, l. Carter. No you don't, Major ; I don't lose sight of you so easily ; with money and blank chacks about, and diamonds handy — who knows — you might be tempted. [Exit Carter, l. SCENE THIPvD. — The Bank Parlor, glass doors u-ith curtains over them, c. ; doors first and second, l. andn. ; window with blinds — Dunbar at table, with Hartogg, who is refolding his papers, BALDEKBy tilth his back to the fire. Dunbar. Then we understand each other. By Thursday you will bring me the diamonds unset, to the tune of from seventy to' eighty tiiousand pounds. You see I want an investment as well as an orna- ment, Mr. Hartogg. Hartogg. And white stuff like that is rising twenty per cent, every year — I'm proud of the order, sir, and I'll do justice to it. [Exit Hartogg, l. Balderby comes forward and sits at table, c. Bald. Now we can go into business. I only got your letter from Warwickshire on Saturday. Luckily every thing was ready, so if you'd like to look at the books Dunbar. No, Mr. Balderby, I'm quite content to remain a sleeping partner: the house will get on quite as well without me. My business to-day is purely personal. I'm a rich man, but I don't know exactly how rich, and I want to realize a large amount of readj' money. (Balderby bows) There are the settlements for my daughter's marriage with Arthur Lovell, and their allowance and this gew-gaw. I mean to do things handsomely. I'm not a demonstrative man, Mr. Balderby, but I love my daughter, (^passes his handkerchief orcr his face.) Bald. No doubt of that, Mr. Dunbar. Dunbar. My father's account has been transferred to my name, I think 1 Bald. Last September, {rises and rings) If you'd like to see the state of it : it's all ready. Enter Messenger, c. Send Mr. Austin with Mr. Dunbar's account. [Exit Messenger, c. Mr. Austin is an invaluable cashier. ACT II. 21 Enter Austin with bcoJcs, Dunbar Imvs to Jnin, c. — He places the look before him open al a mark — Dunbak runs his finger down to the total, DtiNBAK. ,£137,926 17s. 2d. How is this money invested 1 Clem. i;50,000 in India stock, about £20,000 in railway debentures, most of the rest in Excliequer Bills. DuNBAK. Tliey can be realized at once. Bald. Ratlier a large amount to draw out of the business ; (rubbing his hands chcerfally) but I hope we can afford it, DuNBAK. You will liold yourself ready to cash some heavy checks of mine in the course of the weelc. (rising.) Bald. Certainly, Mr. Dunbar. Is tlmt alii DuNBAK. All at present. Bald. Then FU bid you good morning, (aside) Short but sharp and to the point. Quite like business. Kvit Balderby, c, Austin taJces books and is following. Dunbar. Stay, Mr. Austin. (AnsTi^ puts doivn books and pauses, listening respeelfullg.) I want to arrange about an annual payment — not my own account. Perhaps you will hare no objection to letting the money pass through you. Clem. None whatever, sir, if you will let me know the amount and the person. Dunbar. Two hundred pounds, to be paid quarterly to Miss Margaret Wilmot. Clem. Margaret Wilmot ! Dunbar. Or Wentworth, the daughter of my old servant. He may be said to have died in my service, besides, I owed him some compensation for an early and involuntary injury. Clem. I know, sir. Dunbar. You know"? You know my early relations with that man — from whom ! Clem. From his daughter herself! I told her I was sure you would acknowledge her claims on you. Duxbak. You only did me justice. You know her well then ? Clem. Very well, sir. I am deeply interested in her. We are engaged, sir. Dunbar. Engaged ! I am glad of it from my heart — I congratulate you. You have found a treasure. Clem. How little slie dreams that j^ou appreciate her so truly. Dunbar. I do. Heaven knows I do ! Let her know it. Clem. She thinks you hate her. Dunbar. Hate her I Clem. At least that you avoid her in a way only to be explained by hate or fear, Dunbar. She is wrong, very wrong. I don't wish to see her, you can miderstand that. But I mean well by her, and I shall be a haiii)ier man to know her liapjiy. Look here, Mr. Austin, the management of our In- dian Branch is vacant, wliat do you say to taking it 1 Clem. Sir ! I never dreamed of having such a chance. Dunbar. You would take her with you. Clem. I fear she would refuse, she has set her heart on discovering her father's murderer. Dunbar. So I've heard, but she must not waste her life on fruitless quest i at least, let her know of this offer, and assure her, do assure her. 2*2 HENRY DUNBA she has a friend in me. Promise me to satisfy lier of that — promise me. I shall not be easy till I know you liave succeeded. Clem, {goimj). I will do my best and let ^-ou know the result, {going — aside) He means what be says, and yet this morbid unwillingness to meet her face to face ! \^Exit c. Enter Messengek, c. Messen. Mr. Carter ! DiiNBAK. Carter? Messen. The famous detective, sir. The house has often employed him in forgery cases, sir DuNBAK. SlX)W him in. — {Exit Messenger.) — I cannot bear this much longer. Enter Carter, c. You wished to see me, Mr. Carter ] Sit down. Carter. Thank you, Mr. Dunbar. It's about that man that was mur- dered at Winchester — Wilmot Dunbar. Am 1 never to hear anything but that name. I beg your par- don. Go on, what of hinil Carter. I was thinking of going down to the s]iot myself, and I thought iierhaps you miglit like to meet me there. %ou see the County Constabulary is a slow lot, and in spite of your £100 and her Majesty's XlOO, the job seems to hang fire. Dunbar. It would be very painful — still if I could get away from busi- ness — but you see there's so much to do after my long absence in India. Carter. Naturally, sir. Bunbar. Don't start without seeing me. Meantime if you want an ad- vance for preliminary expenses Carter. Well, these things does walk into money. If you like to stand a tenner or two. Dunbar. Take this, {gives notes) And if you require more, command my purse, Mr. Carter. Carter. You cant say fairer than that, sir, can you 1 {putting up notes) You see I'm ralher sweet on the job. It ain't so much the reward, though two hundred pounds ain t to be sneezed at, nor the man himself — he was a bad lot — but it's his daughter, as nice, pretty-looking, hard- working a girl as you'd wish to see, sir ; she's set her heart on spotting the parties — finding on 'em out, that is. Dunbar. What is her idea"? Carter. If you'll not mind my mentioning it, sir^ — in course there's nothing in it — but she've the idea yon had a hand in it. {half laugliing.) Dunbar. I ! Monstrous ! And she accuses me ? Carteii. Ah ! it ain't agreeable to have that sort of thing entered in the charge-sheet agin one, is it, sir 1 " But whore's the motive V I says to her: "My father's knowledge of his secret ;" she says to me: ''Non- sense," I says to her, " Mr. Dunbar's got money enough to buy all the se- crets that ever was kept : secrets is like olher articles," I says, " they're only kep' to sell," Well, I'll let you know, before I start. Good morn- ing, sir. ^Exit Carter, c. Enter Messenger c, with card — IIenrt Dunbar's back is to c. door. Messen. {giving card). Major Vavasour. Dunbar I cannot see strangers — {enter the Major quiethj, c.) say I'm engaged. (Messenger turns to go, sees i his face ; he yazes as if bewildered.) Wilmot. Margaret! Marg. Father ! not dead ! {she mrres towards him with her tmns held out as if to cliisp him, then suddenly recoiling, shrieks and falls in hysterics at his feet.) AViLMOT. She's found me at last ! All's over now — better so, better so — better discovery and the gallows, than this daily and nightly horror. Look u{), Margaret, my poor girl, look up ! Makg. {struyijlmy to her feet and gazing wildly at him). Is this a dream ? Am I mad ] Who is this ] Father! {he approaches h«r, she s'.nnks back) No. no ! Wilmot. Margaret I {he holds out his hands to her) Come to me ! Marg. No, no ! {shuddering) There's blood on them ! Wilmot {looking mournfully at her and thin at his hands). There is ; blood wliich time nor tears — your tears and mine — can ever wash out. Don't look so at me, Margaret ! Marg. But they call you Henry Dunbar? I do not miderstand : you sit in liis place, this house is his! Oh, father, father, there is blood on everything around ! {looks round shudderin// — Dunbar approaches) Do not come near me, father, let me die, I will say nothing, only let me die! Wilmot. Margaret, it's bad enough with me, but not so bad as yon think. I killed him, (Margaret carvers together) but it was no foul blow, no planned assassination — no murder ! Marg. No murder ! Wilmot. No. Unless hot blood, and blow for blow in sudden quarrel be murder, this was none. ACT IV. 29 I\Iarg. Father — (with a shade of joy, but checking it) think before wlioiu yon are speaking ! WiLMOT. Before my own child. Marg. And before Heaven ! Tliink too, tlie deed is done now : no lie can help, no trnth, not the blackest, can make it blacker. WiLMOT. Margaret you know me and my life ! I have bluslied before you — before my own i aughter — often : I have been silent sometimes be- fore you, but 1 liave never lied to you. M.4KG. {f./irows he self into his eo-ms) Never ! Oh, I can kiss those poor sinful hands — there is blood on them, but not the blood of murder. (again reading from him) But since then you have lived a lie ! WiLMOT. My only thought was how to hide my crime. Marg. Oh, would to 11^'aven it had been to confess il ! WiLMOT. Amen ! but love of life is strona. Margaret, and the devil is ever at hand, lie it was that Avhisi)ered " Why not take the dead man's name and place 1" None here remembered him. he was astranger even to his child. AVe were not so unlike— and so, the devil still prompting, I changed clothes with the dead. Mai*g. (she shrinks aiviig from him). Horrible! WiLMOT. You know the rest. What you can never know is the hell my life has been since then. The devil helped me bravely before the ju- ry, the magistrates, among strangej-s, but he left me so soon as I was alone. Then came the horror of my deed, the terror of detection, the stifling of the mask that must be worn for life, or torn off only to leave my face bare under the gallows ! {he hides his face in his hands and shakes witk the vwleitce of his emotion.) ♦ Marg. The gallows 1 Oh no, no ! This is a case for Heaven's justice, not man's. You must fly, find some safe retreat abroad, I will jo.n you there. AViLMOT. Needless, needless. There's too short a future before me that I should shun it. Marg. No, no, I will watch over you, give j'ou warning of danger, only promise me to fly to-night. Heaven will grant you time for repent' ance : it will come. Wtlmot {s'ldlg). It has come, "girl ; if repentance be misery unutterable, to wake with the wish that you may never see the night, to close youp eyes and hope they may never open on the morning ! Marg. No, father, this is remorse, not repentance. This is but the mis- ery of guilt, repentance brings the prayer that guilt may be forgiven. Father ^ve will pray that prayer together 1 {she clusjjs htm in her arms and kneels at his side, trying to draio him to his knees.) END ON act three. ACT IV. SCENE FIRST. — Seime as the last scene. — Laura ami !Mary discovered, \ight lamps. Laura. Three daj's ago, Mary! and never out of his room since 1 Mary. Not so much as over the door-sill, ma'am. Why, they've never even took his clothes off, not so much as the belt he wears about him, all full of little 'ard knobs — as bad as wearin' a nutmeg grater around his waist, I should say. 80 HENRY DUNBAR. Laura. Poor father ! How iucky it was we were witliin telegraphic reacli, iSlary, or we might not have heard of tlie accident for weelcs ! Maky. Yes, ma'am, we're guided, that you may take your Bible oatli on, wliicii when your pa told me tliat he were a-going to start olfto Paris all of a heap like, 1 felt something was a goin' to happen. In course I didn't know it was the train a-goin' to bust off the line, but something I knowed it was, and so 1 told Eliza. " Eliza," I says, '■ mark my words," I says, " something's a-goin to 'appen," and the next thing I see, not eight hours afterwards, was master brought back to the 'all door, in the Maudsley fly, and the man in his stable boots, for all the world like a corpse, only groanin', and as such he've lied ever since. Laura. Oh, Mary, how I wish I might go to him. He might love me now — now that he is weak and helpless, and wants tender nursing. Enter Lovell, k. u. e. Don't you think I might go to him 1 LovELL. No, darling. Doctor Dean insists on perfect quiet, or he can- not answer for the consequences. Under any excitement he might sink rapidly. Laura. My poor father ! LovELL. The notion that he is watched initates him. I promised him we would all retire ; so come, darling, you must obey orders. Laura. Obey orders, and not four days married ! {lie kisses Jier.) Mary. And I m that tired, ma'am I'm a-droppiu' olf on my legs like a night cab 'oss. [Exeunt Arthur, hading Laura tenderly off, l. 2 e., 'Mary folloivin//. Enter Henry Dunbar, r. u. e., slotchj and with diffi^ulh/ he gropes his way towards the tvr it i)iy -table, supportiny himself by tiie furniture. Dunbar. Alone at last ! I cannot lie there and think — and yet solitude is better than society ; I must write to Margaret, if I can guide the pen, to tell her of the accident that stayed my flight — that I am lying here a prisoner, crippled, crushed, body and soul ! {he gets to a chair and sinks in- to it — takes the pen, but jja uses ere writing) She will come to me, to comfort my loneliness, to help me wrestle with my remorse, give me the courage, perhaps, to face the terrors of retribution, {shudders) It has never been out of my thoughts as I've been lying there. The great black beam, the dangling chain, the white faces of the crowd all looking up — and not one pitiful — and their roar of execration as I step out on to the scaflbld ! {shudders, loiv knocking at the window — Dunbar, terror-stricken, strugg.cs to his feet, and stands aghast^ with parted lips, trembling and listening) Hark! who's there 1 Marg. {without, faintly, but in a voice of agonizing earnestness). Let me in ! For pity's sake let me in ! Dunbar. Margaret ! {he makes his way to the window, not without difficulty, and opens it.) Enter Margaret, haggard, dishevelled, her dress disordered, no bonnet, a shawl draped about her. Marg. Father! Thank Heaven you are up and about. Dunbar. What brings you here at such an hour as this % (Margaret, breathless and confused, and speaking with dfficulty, as if she could scarce com- pose her thoughts to frame words, supports herself by grasping a chair.) Marg. Danger ! Danger to you ! I ve been running. There's not a ACT IV. 31 moment to be lost — not a moment. They'll be here directly. I feel as if they had been close behhid me all the way ! There is not a moment — nut a moment ! Dunbar. 1 cannot fly, Margaret; that accident ! Marg. I saw it in the jjapeis; that's why 1 came back herefrom "\Vin- chesier. L>uxBAK. From Winchester 1 {iji terror) AVhat has happened there. Why are you so haggard and worn "? Marg. Oh, father, I have not known one hour's peaceful sleep since that night. For the last two nights I have not slept at all. I have been on the railwaj-, walking from place to jdace, till I could drop at your feet ! I want to tell you, but my head is confused, and the words won't come somehow, [she pooits to her p'irclted lips, males last efort to speak, but reels, and is (ihout to fall ; Dunbar supports her and gives her brandy.) DuxBAU. There — there, my poor darling, you are better now. Marg. You must leave this house directly. They will bo hero to look for you — Heaven knows how soon, Dunbar. They 1 who 1 Marg. Carter, the detective, and — and Clement Austin. Dunbar. Austin! your lover 1 you have not betrayed mo, Margaret. Marg. I ! oh, father ! Dunbar. No, no, forgive me ! But what brings them here — they have no proof. Marg. No proof? Oh, father, j-ou don't know — you don't know — they've been to Winchester. It was my doing — I urged Carter and Clement. I did not know, then. But I went after them. I watched them, and all they did — unseen — in the streets — down through the mea- dows — in that wood, {she shudders) They went straight to a pond, and began dragging the water. Dunbar. Dragging the water 1 Marg. I did not know then what they wanted to find. Dunbar, {with feverish cagermss) But did they find it ? Marg. Yes ; a bundle of soddened and discolored rags ! Dunbar. Dunbar's clotlies ! his name was on them ! Marg. I waited for no more — I ran all the way to Winchester, to the station ; I took the first train to London, the night mail to Maudsley, I ran hither ! Dunbar. They know all by this time. They will be here soon ! Well, let them come, better it should end at once. Marg. No, father, no. It is not that you may escape the penalty of your deed. Oh, as if you could do that ! But I would leave your pun- ishment in Heaven s hand, not man's. You must fly ! Dunbar. I cannot ; this accident. Margaret, I am a doomed, perhaps, a dying man. I have tiie doctor's word for it. But I feel it here {puts his hand to his heart) without that Marg. Oh, no, no I you can walk, {he shakes his head) Onlj' as far as the stables 1 I can saddle a horse : j'ou may reacli the station unseen : which is the way to the siables ? Dunbar. By that window to the right, {points to windoiv, r. 2 e.) Marg. {taking lamp) Wrap yourself up warm, father. I will be back directly. [Exit r. 2 e. Dunbar. I will make a last effort for her sake, poor girl. After all, life is sweet, and repentance — repentance ! Oh, if I were sure that would come — such repentance as the spoke of that comes by i)raying for, that brings the hope to be foi-given! If misery can bring that hope, it should come to me. {puts his hand to his breast) That pain again, like a knife in niv heart ! Shall I have strength to sit a horse, I wonder-l 32 HENKY DUNBAE. Re-enter Margarkt, r. u. b. • Marg. Now let me help you with your coat, (^helps him on with loose coat) The horse is saddled, I'll assist you to mount. Come, quick and silently ! Dunbar. But you, my girl — they must not find you here. Marg. You did not think I would leave you, lather 1 I will lead the horse or hold by the stirrup, it's only three miles to tud station. Never fear me, 1 11 net faint : look how strong I am. Dunbar. Margaret, to go with me is to couple yourself with shame and danger, on a road that leads only to death, one way or other. Makg. The more need of my arm to stay you along that road, {plead- ing passiotiatrhj with him') Let me go with you, father! There is nothing for me in all the world except the hope of forgiveness for you. I want to be with you, I do not want you to be alone with your own thoughts ! Father, I will go with you ! {she clasps him in her arms; they exeunt at ivin- dow.) Enter Laura, in a wrapper, l. 2 K. Laura. I thought l heard voices ! I must have been dreaming ! No, I couldn't have been dreaming, for I've never been asleep, I'm quite sure of that, {goes up Jo door o/ Dunbar's room, k. u. e.) All's quiet. Is papa asleep, I wonder 1 The door's ajar : there's a lamp burning : I've a good mind to peep in. {pusJies door a little open) He must be asleep ! {goes m a little further) The bed's empty ! AVhat does this mean ! Gone ! {calls) Arthur ! Enter Lovell, ii., followed by Mart. LovELL. Laura, Vv-hy are you here, what's the matter ? Lauka. Papa ! he's not in his bed, not in his room, not here 1 LovELL. Not in his room 1 {enters Dunbar's room hastily.) Laura. Oh, Mary, what can have happened 1 Mary I shouldn't wonder, ma'am, if he's been took delirious and gone off. [knocking without, l. Le-entcr Lovell, r. u. e. Laura {starts). Hark ! {going, Lovell ftops her.) Lovell. Go, Mary, see who that can be, at this hour. [Exit Mary, k. 2 e. Laura. If it should be some terrible tidings of ])apa ! Lovell. Compose yourself, my darling ; we must rouse the servants. Enter Mary , follou-ed by Carter and Austin, r. 2 e. JIart. These gentlemen — {gires carets) they say they must see Mr. Dun- bar, which 1 ve told them he's confined lo his hcd, leastways, he wore. Lovell {of er looking at carets). Mr. Carter, Mr. Clement Austin, the cash- ier at the bankl {to Austin.) Carter. Yes, we're here on very important bank business. Mr. and Mrs. Lovell, I believe 1 lboiv:ny) We must insist, I'm afraid, early as it is, on knocking u[) Mr. Dunbar. Lovell. I wish you could find him, sir, or we either. Carter. What do j-ou mean "? Lovell. He is gone! Carter. Gone ! What d'ye mean, gone 1 {stamps his foot.) ACT IV. 33 LovELL. Disappeared from his room there, wliere we left him in bed, from the effects of the railway accident. Carter. Disappeared! {goes into bcdiooiiiR.ij.E.) Clem. My friend is a little abrupt, but he has a strong motive for find- ing Mr. Dunbar. We read in the papers that the accident was serious. Lacra. Oh, most serious. LovELL. 1 had no idea he could have left his bed. Maky. Ah, please sir, nobody knows wliat delirium will do. I know, 'cos once I see a gent in a lodging house before I came to Miss Wentworth's, he had what they call the trimmins ! and he were that ram- pagious — He-enter Carter, r. it. e. Carter. Gone, sure enough ! how was he dressed "? LovELL. As at the time of the accident : he would not allow us to un- dress him. Carter {impatiently). Don't argue, answer me, what had he on 1 LovELL. A black suit. We reniuvod his loose travelling coat. Mary. And he've ])ut it on again, leastways, it was here last night and it's gone now from that blessed chair. Carter {cuttDig /(C?- s/iort, to Loyell). What was that coat 1 LovELL. Brown cloth lined with fur. I must give orders to the ser- vants to search the shrubberies, the park. Carter (aside). That won't do any harm, but I think you'd better trust to me. Can he have gone to the office 1 {to Lovell) Would you let niQ see Mr. Dunbar's body servant alone for a few minutes. Lovell. We will send him to you. Come, Laura. Laur^. I am- so terrified. Oh, sir, do you think there is any fear of suicide 1 Carter. I hope not, ma'am, {aside) It would be cheating Calcraft. Leave me to look for him, me and Mr. Austin, here. Oil, make your mind easy, ma'am, if he is to be found, I'll find him. Laura. Oh thank you, thank you ! [Jixit Laura, l. 2 e. Carter {to Mary ivho is going after Laura). Stop, yoa girl ! Mary. Bless the man, how you snap one's head off. Carter. How long does this burn 1 {points to lamp.) Mary. Ten hours, sir. Cakter {pours out oil from lamp into grate). When was it filled last night 1 Mary. Quarter afore seven, sir, which I done it myself, because Eliza . Carter {interrupting her). It must have been burning till past four, he hasn't more than half an hour's start of us ; come, Mr. Austin, never fear, we'll run into him yet ! [lixit r. 2 e. Mary {at ft-e-ijlace). Oh, lud a mercy, here's a mess ! {seta herself to tilean grate — closed in by SCENE SECOND. — Entrance Hall of Woodbine Cottage — Knocking at entrance door, L. 1 E. Enter the Major, r., in his dressing-gown and sappers, as if disturbed. Major. Not five o'clock, and a knocker solo that would do credit to the biggest Jeames in Belgravia ! This is the quiet of the country ! Well, the days are dull enough. When they do get i;p a row, it's in the middle of the night, apparently, (knock) And that exemplary maid of nine can sleep through all this 1 What a privilege ! {knocking again) Oh, 34 HENEY DUNBA. hang it, they evidently won't take tw answer, {knock) Now then, do you mean to knock the door down 1 {exit as if to open the door and returns with Margaret, l. u. e. — the Major astonished) A lady ! and in a state of excitement ! Makg. 1 am Margaret Wilmot ! ]\Iajok. Joe's daughter ! {the Major shows surprise.) Mahg. My father is outside, he has left the Abhey — Carter is in pur- suit of him. jNIajor. What ! Harry has found out the double 1 Serve him right ! And you've brought him here 1 Marg. He has fainted — you will not refuse him shelter — an old friend of yours — a dying man perhaps, and justice on his track. You would not shut your door against him '} Major. Poor devil ! Marg. I beg, I implore you, to give him shelter for a little while. Major. Poor girl ! {crosses l.) Major, its a weakness — there is such a thing as being accessory after the fact ; but when did lovely woman in distress ap])eal to you in vain ] I'll take him in. [£xit Major, l. Marg. Oh, thanks, thanks ! If we can but rest here till he gains strength, or, if death must overtake him, that it may be in my arms, not in a prison cell, not under the shadow of the scaffold ! Re-enier Major, l. Major. I've taken him into my room ; can you put up the horse \ The stable's at the back of the house 1 Marg. Yes. our arrival must not be talked of; you go to him till I re- turn. Oh, sir. Heaven will reward you for this. \]bxit k. Major. Heaven, eh 1 I don't keep an account at that bank. {shotvi)ig the Mt as worn by Wilmot) The belt with those diamonds — I relieved him of it — humanity, like virtue, is its own reward, {secretes belt) If I could hook it with this, my fortune would be made in one coup. Re-enter Margaret, k. Major. I've been reflecting. Your distress inspires my warmest sym- pathy ; Carter don't know your father ; supi)ose we change clothes. I'll make liim up a j)icture of venerable respectability. 1 could start by the train, and so draw off the dogs, while he takes my place here. Marg. Oh, bless you for the thought. Be quick, and make the change — I'll watch here. Oh, how shall we ever repay you ! Majok {fastening the belt). The luxury of dohig good is enough for me ! [Exit Major, r., Margaret /o^/otrs in thankfidiiess to theuing, JEnter Clement Austin, l. Clem. The door open at this hour ! Carter's suspicions may be well foamded. (Margaret turns and sees him) Ah, Jlargaret ! Marg. Discovered ! and by him ! Clem. At last ! my poor darling ! {approaches her, she waves him hack.) Marg, No, Clement, there is an end of love between us. Would therq was an end of life as well. I learnt the worst that night. I dared not meet you again, with the blood stain of that secret on my soul. I fol- lowed you to Winchester. Clem. Then it was no delusion ; that veiled figure in the street, that shadow amongst the trees ! Marg. It was I, Clement, watching that I might warn my £ather. I Aci lY, ys have warned him — I have brouglit liim hither. He is in this house, a dying man ! Clement, you will nut denounce liini 1 Clem. Margaret ! you wring my heart. Must I screen a murderer ^ Maro. No, Clenient> he is no murderer ! Henry Dunbar died by his hand, but from a blow in sudden quarrel, roused by bitter taunts and sore provocation. Ii is true, Clement, I have never lied to you yet, and would not now, not even for a fatlier's life. Clem But there is Carter — I am here by his orders — he will follow me directly to search this house. Makg. And he will take him from me! Will give him up to the law, to a prison ! and now, now that he is dying ! Oli, Clement, leave him to Heaven's mercy ! Let him die with one loving face near him — one voice of comfort and compassion in his ears 1 Do not tear him from me — do not — do not ! Clem. Margaret, I will stand aloof ; I will not lift hand or voice against your father. Marg. I knew I might trust you, Clement ! (« whistle heard o/.) Clem. Hark! Carter's signal! Makg. Detain him here as long as you can. Lives may hang on min- utes now. Yes, Clement, I knew I might trust you ! [Exit, r. 1 e. Unter Carter, l. 1 e. Carter. Door open ! Clem. I left it open behma me. Carter. You got in without trouble 1 (Austin tiods) No waiting, eh 1 Oh, there was some one up, then 1 (Austin nods) Who 1 Clem. A girl. Carter. At five 1 That ain't natural ! I must see her and her mas- ter. Clem. She has gone to let him know of our visit. Carter. Him 1 I've set one of the Abbey grooms to watch the back door, I've left Tommy Tibbs at the station with a description, and now you and me will have the cream of the job to ourselves here. Clem. Look here, Carter, you must look for no further help from me in this business. Carter. Mr. Austin ! What, after we've worked so nicely together 1 I began to think you was takin' a pleasure in it. Clem. Taking pleasure in hunting a man down ! Carter. No, Mr. Austin, but in spotting a murderer. The old saying i« '' murder will out," but how would it be without a branch of the force, the metropolitan, I mean, to start it 1 No, Mr. Austin, I don't say but what I like my profession, but dooty ain't the less dooty because it's pleasure too, is it, now 1 Clem. Do you do j'our duty. If Joseph Wilmot murdered Henry Dunbar he must pay the penalty. But I have told you he is the father of the woman I love. It is not for me to help to bring him to the gal- lows. Carter Ah, I forgot the petticoat. They always turn up somewheres, and mostly troublesome. But I must see the people here. Clem. Here comes the servant with a message from her master. Enter Margsarkt, k. 1 e., roughly dressed as a slovenly servant of all uork, icith her face tied up as from faceache : she affects surprise at sight of Carter. Marg. Hallo, here's two on 'em! 36 HENRY DUKBAE. Carter. So, you are up early, my lass 1 Makg. Couldn't get a wink of sleep all last night, please sir, 'cos of the toothache. Oh, do you know what's good for it! Carter. AVell I 'are heard, filling your moulh With cold water, and sit- tin on the Imb till it boils. Mar';. Oh lawk a massy, why it would scald me to death ' Carter (astdc).. She seems green enough. Maro Oh please sir, was you with this gentleman 1 Carter Ves, I was. Marg Then master wiU see you in Ui'' parlor. But oh, please, gen- tlemen don't go to aggrivat* him, for he's m such a worry at being disturb- ed so early. Carter. Ah, a bad temper, has he '^ Marg. Oh. hawful ! Carter. And he don't like being told lies, does he 1 Marg. Oh, I durstn't try him with them, sir, tiiat I dursn't. Carter. Then you look here : if he's bad, I'm wus, a hundred times, when people try we with 'em: now you know. Who's been here this morning 1 Marg. Him, sir. Carter. No, before him. Marg. Nobody, sir. {rcri/ nrpidli/) One would think five o'clock was quite early enough, if I 'adn't been up along o' my tooth, a poor 'ard- working giil, that's got every blessed thing on her hands, how's she to stand being knocked up at five o'clock in the morning I should like to know, and being bullyragged into the bargain 1 Carter {tnjiny to stop her). There, there, thei-e, I don't want to set the tap going : there {impatientli/) hold your jaw, girl, and show us into your master. \Exeunt u. 1 e., Margaret stUl chattering. SCENE THIRD. — Interior of the Major's sittinff-room — Broad, old-fashioned windoiv, c, pannelled tvalls, low ceiiing, cupboards, do/.rs r. and l., ivarm curtains, old-fashioned furniture — Wilmot discovered in easy chair, L., made up with white hair and moustache, smoking a meerschaum, in the Major's dressing-gown and slippers — Carter and Austin discovered, E. Wilmot. Two intrusions in one, damme ! AVell, gentlemen, this is cool, I must say, infernally cool, knocking a man up in his own house at five in the morning ! What is it all about 1 Carter. We've come to make inquiry about i\Ir. Dunbar, of Maudsley Abbey, who has been missing since four o'clock this morning. (Wilmot's meerschaum moves iti his mouth, Carter watches sharply.) Wilmot. Gone ! Why I thought the poor fellow couldn't leave his room — his bed, in fact — thanks to that railway smash 1 Ah, those infer- nal railways ! Damme, sir, we shall see no good there till they string up a director or two. But if he has gone, I suppose he was free to go, eh 1 As free as you to come here. This is a free country, ain't it, eh 1 Free and easy, I should say, infernally free and easy ! Carter. Why you see, colonel, I'm a private detective come by Mr. Lovell's wish to look after the poor gentleman. They're afraid the acci- dent's damaged him here {touches head ) We ve searched tlie park and he ain't there, and the lodges and he ain't there, and your cottage comes next, and you're an old friend, so p'raps you'd not mind our searching here1 Wilmot. Rather cool, before six in the morning, but just as you please. Betty — {calls) meanwhile I'll turn in again, if you've no objection. ACT IV. 37 fitter Margaret, l. Betty, show these gentleman every room in the house, {aside to her') mind, if you don't hold your tongue 1 11 make you jiay for it. (Carter, tv/io has bctn looking at the door turns round as tf lie caught the last aside.) Good morn- ing, gentlemen. [Exit Wilmot, dotiiy, and helping himself bg thefurnitio-e. Marg. [rtpetiing luphoard, r.). If you'd like to look in here, gentlemen, liere's where the colonel keeps his 'bacca-boxes, and pipes, and things. Carter. No, thank you, Miss Innocence. Just you come liere ! {brings her forward) All, you're an artful young hussy, and no mistake, and that tootliache's a judgment on you. Now, look here, what was that your master told you to hold your tongue about 1 Marg. {twists her apron). Oh, please, sir, master didn't say nothing, sir, onlj' I was to show you round, sir. Carter. Oh, didn't say nothing, didn't he 1 We'll see what the judge says when you're had u[) before him for wilful perjury, which it s trans- portation for life in a young female. Marg. Oh, ssir, I'm so mortal 'feared o' master, he's that violent ! Why, if the taters ain't done to hi.s liking he'll grumble about them quite civil like at first, and then he'll work hisself up, and he'll shy them taters at you one arter another, and his language gets wus with every tater. Carter. You'll see what my language will get if you don't speak out. You'd better or ■ Marg. Oh, what can I do, sir 1 I daren't go agin him, I'd almost sooner be transported, if it don't hurt much. Carter. Don't hurt much ! Why, it's bread and water for life among the blacks Marg. Oh ! Carter And the possums Marg. Oh, lor ! Carter. And tlogging with a cat o'nine-tails t)nce a week regular. Marg. (in affected terror). Lawk a massy ! Oh, I'll tell you all about it, sir, sooner than that. Mr. Dunbar come here about five, sir, just as I was opening the shutters, and he was in that pain that he could 'ardly sii on h s horse, and he told me to call master, and master 'elped him otf. and got him» something, and I was ordered to rim for a fly to the Maudsley Arms, that's not a quarter of a mile down the road, and Muster Dunbar he went olf in it not an hour afore you came, and that's all, and oh pJease don t tell master ! Carter {to Clement). The girl's speaking the truth, I think. I must impiire about that fly. You keep an eye on all here, {to Margaret) Tell your master I've not time to bid him good morning. [Hxit r. Margaret /oZfotfs him towards door, then turns, tears off the handkerchief and false front, aud falls exhausted bg her effurls at self-restraint into a chair, Clem. Margaret ! In this disguise 1 Even I did not detect you. Marg. No, no ; you must leave me, Clement, leave me with my un- happy father. M}" portion, henceforth, is not with love and home. I must help to bear his heavy Jjurden ; I cannot ask you to share it. {he trus to speak) No words, Clement : for pity's sake, leave me and forget me ! Clem. Leave you ! I love you too well to disobey, even that command, But when your hour of trial comes, you will wish for me, and I will be at y(un- side ! [Jivit r. Marg. True and tender to the last ! And I nmst give up this great 015 nExVliY DUNflAU. love! Yes, I can give it up, but I ciu't bear to think of it. {opcMdcm; L,, ieads OH her J at her, he sinks feebly into chair.) WiLMOT. Good girl, good girl, you did it bravely— T could kave liuvj;lied to see how you fooled him — and 1 too, I did not think I had so much life in me. {falts hack in his chair.) Makg. And now, father, we will leave England together, and find some (|uiet place abroad ; I will work fur both, we will live the sad, still life tii.it prepares for deatii, will we not, father 1 WiLMOT. Ah, you are your mother's child. Did I not see her the day she found out what my life had been — see the color die out of her face, till it was whiter than the collar round her neck, and the next moment lis:' arms were about me, and her eyes looking into mine as yours are n )*v, as she said, " I shall never love you less, dear, there is nothing in 1 1'3 world shall make me love you less ! " Makc. What she would have been to you father, in this hour of trial, shall I not be 1 Oh, as your need is sorer, lei me be more. What's the matter ] WiLMOT. I can't speak — I'm choking, {he sprinf/s up end jircsscs his hand to his breast.) ^Iakg. Oh, what is this 1 WiLMOT. Death ! not terrible, as I us'jd to see him but like one that brings pardon and jicaco ! Don't leave me — let me see your face and feel your arms to the last. Pray for me, Margaret, pray for me! {fails back' d':ad. ) Enter Clement, at windotv. Marg {shrieks). Dead! Gone to his account — gone forever — and I am all alone! {kneeU by the body.) CfiEM. I am here, Margaret, {tries to raise her, Carter appears at the icindovj with the Major m custody of Tibbs, he holds the heU tn his hau-" Enter Carter, r., with the belt, removing his hat reverently. Clem, {waves him back). Too late ! Marg. Not so, his judge knows, his judge is merciful 1 {looking intently at the body.) curtain: SYNOPSIS. TitE play opens in the little parlor of a humble but particularly nice-looking oottago at AViindsworth. Maky, the servant inaiil, is startled by a ring at the g.arden gate, when, lookini; out, she sees that the visitor, in a carriage, is a Miss Laura Dunbar, ■whom she appears to greatly admire. Mis s Dunbau had called to take a music les- son of Makgaret Wentworth ; but tliat youns; lady being absent, the maid in- forms Laui-.a that she is about to leave Miss Wentwoutii's service, as her mistress can no longer afford to keep two servants. Lauua thereupon engages Mauy to como to her at the oxijiration of her service. Miss Dundar then tells Mary that she has a little birthday present for Maugaret, and proceeds to her room to leave it as a surprise. While Laura is out of the room, two men knock at the door; Mary ad- mits one, the other remaining outside. This person, after some preliminary ques- tioning as to Miss AVentworth's terms for tuition, etc., begins to question the girl as to Mr. Wentwouxh's habits. While the cojiversation is proceeding, Miss Wevt- WORTH enters; but not before Mary had informed the strans,'er that Mr. Went. WORTU had left early that morning for Southampton. The strange man, Mr. Car. HENBY DUNBAR. 89 MSB, continues the conversation with the mistress after the maid has left to apprise Miss DnsBAn of Margaret's return. During lier absence, Carter takes his leave j but, before doing so, ejaculates a blessing on Margaret, to that young lady's great surprise. Margaret then takes out a letter which she had received from her fa- ther, but before examining its contents, she feelingly expresses a -wish that her father would quit the dark and desperate courses that he at times followed, so that others, besides her, might know sometliing of the good there was in him. In thia letter her father tells her that very many years ago he committed the crime of for- gery to save a much loved young master ; the forgery was detected, the master was screened, and sent off to India, wliile he was denounced, tried, and convicted. Ilia master might have saved him, but never opened his lips. " From that day," con- tinued Margaret's father, " 1 have been a branded man ; every man's hand has been against me." Wentworth proceeded to say that this man was coming back to England, and that he meant to meet him, and try if he would not do something for the man he had seen ruined twenty-live years before, and if he would not, he in- tended lo pive him a piece, of his mind. The father concluded by saying that the name of tlie man he expected to meet was " Ilenry Dunbar." This was none other than the father of her dear friend, Laura. While Margaret is pondering over this evil news, Clement Austin enters, and it is soon apparent by hia tender manner and his manifestations of interest in her welfare, that he is her lover. Indeed, ho proceeds to declare his affection, and to ask her hand. Margaret refuses ; but be- ing hard pressed for her reasons, acknowledges that she loves Clement, but an in- superable bar prevents their union— her father is a dishonored man— an outcast— a criminal. Clement expresses his willingness to wed her, but Margaret, while grateful for his nobleness, will only consent to wed him after they have jointly tried to bring her father back to the right path. The second scene introduces us to an amusing vagabond, who enters the sitting room of the " George " at Winchester. This individual, whose habiliments are " in the sere, the yellow leaf," indulges in a characteristic soliloquy, from which we learn that he is a broken-down sport, and a criminal, indeed; that he had found that " Joe Wilmot " was putting up at this hotel, and that he intended to await his arrival ; that he had seen Joe with a stran- ger enter a wood near St. Cross ; that his first move was to accost Joe, and try to borrow some " brads " from him ; but finally thought it better to come to his hotel and await his arrival. A waiter enters, and not liking the cut of the Major's coat (for a major he announces himself to be), tries to bow him out of tlie apartment, telling him the room is engaged for the great banker, Mr. Henry Du-sbar, who has just come back from India, and " who's worth a million if he's worth a penny." The servant leaves the room, and in his absence the Major proceeds to examine the trunks of the banker, which have arrived. His inspection is cut short by the ser- vant's return to tell him that a gent named Harry Carter wants him. The Ma- JOB starts to leave by aback door, but is headed off, caught, and handcuffed by an as- sistant of Carter's. He is taken off in custody, having, however, previously re- fused to reveal Wilmot alias AVentworth's whereabouts. Soon after, Went- worth, disguised as Henry Dunbar, enters, and orders that dinner shall wait until the arrival of his friend Wilmot, whom he had sent across the country (he said) to apprise a Mr. Stratton of his arrival. While dinner is waiting,. Mr. Dunbar pro- ceeds to open the trunks, and reads aloud the contents of some of the i):ipers. From these documents be learns all the particulars about thebusinessof the firm of which Dunbar was leading partner, and he, also, finds a lot of letters written by Laura to her fiither. Dunbar declines still to set down to dinner until the arrival of Wil- mot, and while talking to the waiter about his unaccountable absence, a noise is heard outside; acrowd appears in the corridor; Henry Dunbar advances to it, lifts a sheet that covers a body just borne in, and exclaims, " Joseph Wilmot I dead I" In the second act Laura is complaining to her maid, Mary, of the little aflfectiou which her father manifests for her, when Arthur Lovell is announced. This gentleman is informed by Laura of her father's coldness. Lovell tells her he has a tine appointment in India, and had he but her hand in marriage he would be perfectly happy. Dunbar, who had entered unobserved, comes forward, and after asking LAUKAto retire for a few moments, surprises Lovell by briefly telling him that his health is broken by his long life in India, that he must seek the continent at once; but before he goes he desires to see Laura, his dear datighter, happily married ; he observes that they love each other, and wishes their union without any delay ; adding that instead of settlements, he will give his daughter a handsome sum in money and a present of magnificent diamonds. Lovell, transported with delight, rushes off to Laura's boudoir ; Dunbar having left the room before iiim. 40 HENnr DtTNBAC Jiist afterward Mahgaret, in deep mourning, is ushered in. Latjea enters and embraces her. An alfectiiig interview takes i)l.ice between them. Margaret be- ing determined to follow up Dunbar to the death for the supposed murder of her father. Dunbau sends his daughter, who liad gone in search of him, back to Mar- garet, to say that lie will never see her, but that he will make her a handsome yearly allowance, and gives his daughter fifty pounds to baud her as a first pay- ment. Laura returns to Margaret, and lianas her the flity pounds in an envel- ope. Margaret passionately throws down the money, signals Laura to leave her, and exclaiming, " Dut I will see him, and he shall see me, if 1 drop down dead I" is abotit to enter, when Clement Austin enters. The young man informs Margaret that he is the cashier in tlie house of which Dunbar is head, and is in attendmico •with important papers. The young girl reveals to Clkment part of her Rtory, and be determines to manage to get her an interview with DunbaR In the next scene the Major reappears ; lie has run against Mr. Balderby while entering the bank of Dunbar & Co. Here the JIajor gets into conversation with the diamond merch- ant, and is only prevented from tilchiny some of the gems by the entrance of Car- ter, who warns him. The Major liangs about to get an interview wiih Dunbau. Meanwhile, Dunbar has the books of the bank brought to him by Clkment Austin, and proposes to draw a very large amount out to buy diamonds and for olhcr pur- poses. Ddnbar tells Austin that ho wishes an annuity to be paid to a Miss Went- worth ; the young man tells Duisbar that he knows her ; indeed, is betrothed to lier. Dunbar advises him to marry her, and says that he will befriend them, but that he cannot see her. Just then Cauter enters to inform the banker that he is employed to investigate the murder of Wilmot, and that AVilmot's daughter, Margaret, even accuses him of the crime. Dunbar gives the detective a fee, and advises him to try and clear up the mystery. Harldly has the detective left, ere the Major enters. He is announced as Major V'avasour, and soon gives Dunbar to understand that he sees through the whole affair, and that he must be bribed to silence. The banker gives him two thousand pouTids, which satisfies him for the nonce. Clement Austin now determines to bring Mai;garet and Dunbar face to lace, but the banker frustrates his plan by leaving the city for his country house, M ludsley Abbey. To this place ho is followed by the Major, who fears that lie is about to leave England, and thus give him the slip, especially as Laura had jut^t been married to Arthur Lovell and i.s oil on their wedding trip. Tlie Major tells Dunbar tiiat he has taken a small p'ace close to his lodge gates, and will not stir from there. The banker has to again bribe the fellow to silence, and ho departs. Dunbar, once more alone, begins ciisting retrospective glances over the past events, and in the midnight .^ilence conjures up all the fearful doings of that cveutlul night, wlien the returned India merchant and the wretched forger stood face to face beneath the dark branches of the wood near St. Cross. He has determined on flight; has tried by copious draughts of brandy to dull his senses, and has at length fallen into an unquiet slumber at the table, his head resting in his hand. Then Margauet stealthily enters, and listens to the broken sentences that proceed from the wretched man's white lips. At length he utters the word " Margaret." Terri- bly affrighted is the girl to hear her own name, and uttered by her father !—tlio father 1 1 lat she supposed was now lying in his shroud- Margaret rouses her fa- ther. An explanation ensues, in which Dunbar convinces his daughter that the banker was killed by him in a struggle for life, and that he then assumed the name and personated Dunbar in order to save himself. Margaret no sooner gets over lier surprise, than she urges her father to fly at once, and evade the death penalty that surely would befall him, as no one but a daughter would believe his statement. n)UNBAK obeys her and escapes. In Act the Fourth Laura has been recalled to the Abbey, her lather having been terribly injured by a railroad accident. The doctor has forbidden any one seeing Dunbar. The wretched man, terribly shaken and bruised, is barely able to sit up, when Margaret raps at his window, and begs to be let in. Dunbar with great difficulty opens the window, when his daughter almost falls in, her hair dishevelled, and her whole aspect most pitiful and wo< -b. gone. Ill a few hurried sentences she tells her father that Carter and Austin, impelled by her, had investigated the murder affair; had become convinced that Dunbau had killed Wilmot, and that they were even now on their way to arrest him ; she had managed to get ahead of them ; and there was not an instant to be lost ; he must escape at all hazards. Yielding to his daughter's tears and prayers, the still feeble man mounts a horse, which Margaret procures from the stables; and partly sup- ported by his brave-hearted daughter, he sets out. Cautkr and Austin arrive at the Abbey just half an hour after Dunbu; had left. Dunbar and his daugh- ter contrive to get as far as the Major's house, but can proceed no farther. They gain admittance. The Major, after securing a belt enclosing the diamonds winch Dunbau had with him, consents to let DunB'R remain in his disguise, while lie takes the horse and starts off, having no wish to meet Carter. The detective soon .after arrives, but is bafHed by the ingenir>v of Margaret, who has assumed the disguise of a servant But all in vain are the noble girl's efforts ; her father is deatb-stricken, and falls dead in his daughter's arms ; but not before he had consoled her with the assurance of his sincere penitence. Carter (with the belt) and ( le- MENT enter reverently The latter exclaims: " Too late." " Not so," replies Mab- GABET ; " hia Judge knows— his Judge is merciful 1" De Witt's Acting Plays — Continued. Ho. 4«. Xk« MIdatgKt 'Watcb. Drstna. 1 Aet. By Johu M. Morton, s Male, 2 Female Chai-- acteiij. M. Xlic Port«r*a Kaot* Serlo-Comlc Dva-ma. 3 Aet8. By Johu Oxeuf«rd. 8 Male, i Female <9haraot«l'S. SI. A Model for a ■^Vlfe. Faree. 1 AM. Dy Alfred WiSAQ. 3 Male, 2 Female Oharaeterfl. B2. A. Cup of Tea. Gomedjetta. 1 Act. By Charles NiUMer and J. Derley. 3 Male, 1 Fe- male Characters. S3. Gertrude's IIIf>ne7-nox. Farce. I Act. B," Harry Lemou. -i Male, 2 Female Characters. 64. Xhe Youngr CoMe^lan. Parre. 1 Act. By T. W. Uobertsoii. i Male, i Female Char- acters. tS. Calbertrine H<»vard; er, The Throne, the Tomh afltl tlie i«*>4 acters. Tt. A Sboofi ha "VffolPa Clothing. Domeadc Drama. 1 Act. By Tom T&Ttor. 1 Male, 3 Female •hu-aa(*r«. Tliomas J. Wl acter [lup V VVlTlia 4 Male, 3 FamaU Oh*r- 81. 'Vandylio Brown. Paran. 1 Ae*. By X. C. Troughton. 3 Male, 3 Famale Cha ra «t»»B. 82. Peep o* Day ; or, gavoumeea DlM«Mflli. (New Di-ury Lane Verslen.) Acte. By Kdmnnd Falcone mAle Chara*^er8. 83. Xhriee Married. Personation Piece. 1 Act. By Howard Paul. 6 Male, 1 Faaale Characti-is. 84. IVot Guilty. Drama. 4 Acts. By Watts PhilHpe. 10 Male, 6 Female Cliar»c«eM. 83. Xvoelted in with a Lady. Sketoh Sron Life. By U. K. Adillson. 1 Male, 1 PsbmI* Oharacter*. 86. Xhe Lady of Lyons ( or, Love and PrUe. (The Fachter Versiwu) Play. 5 AeU. By Lord Lytton. 19 Male, 3 Felaal* Charactere. 87. Locked Out. 0»ia)« Sceaa. 1 Act. By Howard Pa'il. 1 Male, 1 Female Ctiftraeters. 85. Founded on Facts. Farce. 1 Act. By .I.P. Wooler. 4 Male, 2 Female Ohafactwa- 89. Aunt CharloMo'a !W»W. Far^. I Act. By J. M. Morton. 3 Male, 3 Female Charac- 91. IValpole; or. Every Man has hl« Piiae. Comedy in Rhyme. 3 Act*. By Lord Ly*toti. 7 Male. 2 Female Char»ctois. 92. My IV'fe's Out. Farce. 1 Jut. By O. Herbert Uodwrll. 2 Mule, 3 Pmute « i.iia s*« w . 93. Xhe Area Delle. Farce. 1 Act. By WHUara Brough and Andrew Halliday. 3 Male, 2 Fe- male Characters. 94. Our Clerks s or. No. 3 Fig Tree Court Tem- ple. Farce. 1 Act. 7 Male, 5 Female Char- acters. 9.^. Xhe Pretty Horse Breaker. Faroe. 1 Act. By William Brough and Andrew HaHi- day. 3 Male, 10 Female CharaeterB. 96. Dearest Mamma. Comedietta. 1 Act, By Walter Gordon. 4 Male, 3 Female ChwM- ters. 97. Orange Blossoms. Comedietta. 1 Act. By J. P. Wooler. 3 Male, 3 Female Character. 98. IVho is ■Who? or. All in a For. Parca. 1 Act. By Thomas J. Williams. 3 Male, 2 F'- male Charactei-s. 99. Xhe Fifth '«VheeI. ComedJ^ 3 AcU. ID Male, 2 Female Characters. 100. Jack Long : or. The Shot In tha 1^ Dramv 2 Acts. By J. B. Jolmatona. i Mate, I Famal* Characters. 101. Fernande. Drama. 3 Acts. By VIet«ri«B Sardou. 11 Male, lU Female Charactcw. 102 Foiled. Drama. 4 Acta. By 0. W. Cojnisfc.. . 8 Male, 3 Female Characters 103. Faust ond Margruerltte. Dnuma. s Acts. Dy T. W. Robertson. 9 Male, 7 I>«mai« Characters. 104. No Name. lins. 7 Male, 105. Which of the Two. Comedietta. 1 Aet By Joba M Mortoa. *J Male. 10 Femalo etiara«tecs 106. Up for the Cattle Show. Faroe. 1 Ao« By Harry Lemon. Male, 2 Female Okaiaetors 107. Cupboard Love. Farce, l Act. By Pied- erickfla; 2 Male. I Female CharaMers 108. Mr. fr:croarx Intl. Farce. 1 Act. By William Hancock. 3 Male, 3 re.naleCbaffaot«fS 108. liOeic.d In. Comedietta. lAot. By J. F. WooUr. '.cMuJe. 3 Female OlMDaMau 110. PoppIeton'M Predlcaineiits. FaMa. 1 Act.- By CbailMM.Kaa. > Mate, Penaia Cftaf aetee« 111. By Baai Altered and adap«4 by Ofaartu MaMbevs. and fi Female Charaoteca. T MaU De Witt's Acting PI; LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 014 549 150 2 No 112. Not oBIt Jcaloiw. A Farcc.in 1 Act, By T. \V. KobcrTson. 3 Male^ 3 Female cbaracters U3. CjrH'g 8u('ce8ft. Comedy, in 5 Acts. By H. J, Byron. 9 Mule, 5 Female characters. 114. Anytbine ior n Change. Petite ComcHy, iu 1 Act. By Shirley Brouks. 3 Male, 3 Fe- male characters. . Mc\T Men and Old Acres. Comedy, in :i Aote. By Tom Taylor. 8 Male, 5 Female char- acters. . I'm not McslU at all. An Original Irish Stew. By C. A. Maltby. 3 Male, 2 Female characters . fiot Such a Fool e.a he Looks. Farcical Drama.in 3 Aois. By H.j. Byron. 5 Male, 4 Female cliaracters. 118. Wanted, a Young Lady. Farce, in 1 Act. By W . E. Sutcr. 3 .\I nio characters, 119. A Life Chase. Drama, in 5 Acts. By John Oienford. 14 Mule, 5 Female characters 120. A TcmpcBt In a 1 ea Pot. Petite Comedy, in 1 Act. By Thomas Picton. 2 Male, I Fe- male characters , A Comical Counteas. Farce,cerfoot, Farce, in 1 Act. By F. C. Bur- naud, Esq. f> Male, 1 Female characters . Twice Killed. Farce. By John Oienford.— 6 Male, 3 Female characters • Pegrity Green, Farce. By Charles Selby. — 3 Male, 10 Female characters . The Female Detective. Original Drama> in 3 Acts. By C. H. Hsileweod, lIMa1e,4 Female cbaratera . In lor o Holiday. Farce, In 1 Act. By F. C. Burnnnd, Esq. 2 Male, 3 Female characters 130. My Wife's Diary, Farce, i u 1 Act. By T. AV. Robertson, 3 Male, 1 Female characters 121. Go to Putney. Original Farce, in 1 Act. By Harry Lemon. 3 Male, 4 Female characters 13S. A Knee for n Dinner, Farce. By J, T. G. Rodwell. 10 Male characters 133. Timothy to the Kcscuc. Original Farce, in 1 Act. liy Henry J, Byron, Esq, 4 Male, 2 Female characters i. Tompkins the Troubodour. Farce, in 1 Act. By .Messrs. Loclxroy and Marc Michel. 3 Male, 2 Female characters L Everybody's Friend, Original Comedy.in 3 Acts, By J. Stirling Coyn^Esq. $ Male, i Female characters The Woman In Red, Drama,ln 3 Actsand aPrologue. By J.Stirling Coyne, Esq. 6 Male 3 Female characters ' 137. L'Artlcle 4? ; or. Breaking the Ban. Drama, in S Acts. By AdolpheDelot. 11 Male, 6 Fe- male characters 138. Poll and Portncr Joe ; or the Pride of Put- ney.and the Crossing Pirate. New and Origi- nal Nautical Burlesque. By F C. Eumand — 7 Male, 6 Female characters 139. J-j Is Daneerons. Comedy, in 2 Acts. By James Mortimer. 3 Male, 3 Female characters 140. >ever Reckon your Chickens. Farce, li> 1 At. By Wybert Iteeve. 3 Male, 4 Female characters 141. The Bells ; or. The Polish Jew. Ro- mantic Moral Uramii, la 3 Actri. By Henry L. Williams, Jr. 9 Male, 3 Female cliaracters. 1J2. Dollars and Cents. Orl^-inal American Comeiir.iii 3 Acts. Ky I,. J. Hollenlus, Ksq. 10 Mule, 4 Female Chaiaiieia. 143. Lodg^ers and Dodgers. Farce. In 1 Act. By Frederick Hay. 4 Male, 3 Female char. at-teia. 144. The Lancashire l..ass | or* Tempt- ed. Tried and True. Domestic Melo- drama, m 4 Acts and a Prologue. By Heury J. Byion. 12 Male, 3 Female cliaracters. 145. First Love, Cemedy, In 1 Act. By L. J. Uollenius, Esq. 4 Male, 1 Female clmraclers. 146. There's no Smoke '\%^ithout I'*ire. Coniedietia, in I Act. By Tliomas PIctou. 1 Male, 2 Female Characters. 147. The Overland Route. Comedy. In 3 Acts. By Tom Taylor. 11 Male, « Feniali cbaiacters. 148. Cut aCr '«VIth a Shilling. Comedietta, In 1 Act. By 8. Theyio Binlili. 2 Male, I Fe- male characters. 149. Clouds. An Original American Csniedy, In 4 Acta. By Fred Maisdau. 8 Male, 6 Female characters. 150. A Tell-Tale .Heart. Comedietta, in 1 Act. By Thomas Picton. 1 Male, 2 Female characters. Ul. A. Hard Case. Farce, In 1 Act. By Tbos. Plct*u. 2 Male characttir«. 151. Cupid's Eye.Glaas. Comedy, In 1 Act By Thomas PIctou. 1 Male, I Female cliar actera. 153. 'Tls netter to Live Than to Die, Petite Comedy, iu 1 Act. By Thomas Picton, 2 Male, 1 Female characters. 154. Maria and IMagdalena. Play, In 4 .\cta. By L. J. Uollenius, Esq. 10 Male, 6 Female characters. 155. Uur Heroes. Military Play, In 5 Acts. By John B. Beuauld. 25 Male, 5 Female cbar- acteia. 156. Peace at Any Price. Farce, Is 1 Act. By T. W. Bobertseu. 1 Male, 1 Temals char- acters. 157. 9uite at Borne. Comedietta, In 1 Act Dy Arthur Sketchley. 6 Male, 2 Female char- acters, 158. School. Comedy, in 4 Acts. By T. W. Rob- ertson. 6 Male, 3 Female Characters. 159. In the '%Vrong House | or. No. Six Duko Street. Farce. By Martin Becher. 4 Male, 2 Female characters. 160. Blow for Blo-w. Drama, In a Prolegue and 3 Arts. By Henry J. Byron. E Uals, 4 Female characters.