on; CATALOGUE FREE TO ANY ONE. AMES' SERIES OF !| STANDARD AND MINOR DRAMA il NO. 164. 3* AFTER TEN YEARS; OR, The Maniac Wife. • ST OP CHARACTERS, ENTRANCES, AND EXITS, RREATIVR 1'OSITIONS OP THE PERFORMERS ON THE STAGE, DESCRIPTION OF COS- TUMES, AND THE WHOLE OF THE STAG E RUSTS I I Uf,LY M UtkKD PROM THE MOST APPROVED PRICE 15 CENTS. 1 f >} I 31 s to Amateurs.— Now ready. A book i stiral intonnn . in which nil mam Ames' Edition of Plays. FIFTEEN CENTS EACH UNLESS NO. 164 1 66 1 68 1 69 129 132 12 30 2 75 80 136 39 124 78 15 05 31 21 43 123 73 20 125 100 89 8 98 113 86 14 160 22 84 145 161 49 72 19 42 60 152 14:: 148 173 162 27 154 13 76 After Ten Years 7 3 A Texan Mother-in-Law 4 2 A Pleasure Trip 7 3 A Regular Fix ■> 4 Aar-u-ag-oos 2 1 Actor and Servant 2 9 A Capital Match 3 2 A Day Well Spent 7 5 A Desperate Game 3 2 Adrift 6 4 Alarmingly Suspicious ... 4 3 A Legal Holiday 5 3 A Life's Revenge 7 5 An Afflicted Family 7 5 An Awful Criminal 3 3 An Unhappy Pair = 1 1 An Unwelcome Return... 3 1 A Pet of the Public 4 2 A Romantic Attachment.. 3 3 Arrah de Baugh 7 5 A Thrilling Item 3 1 At Last 7 1 A Ticket of Leave 3 2 Auld Robin Gray 25c 13 3 AuroraFloyd 7 3 Beautv of Lyons 11 2 Better Half 5 2 Black Statue 3 2 Bill Derrick 6 4 Black vs White 4 2 Brigands of Calabria 6 1 Conn ; or, Love's Victoryl 1 3 Captain Smith 3 3 Cheek Will Win 3 Cuff's Luck 2 1 Dora 5 2 Der Two Surprises 1 1 Deuce is in Him 5 1 Did I Dream it 4 3 Domestic Felicity I I Driven to the Wall 10 3 Driven from Home 7 4 Emigrant's Daughter 8 3 Eh? What Did You Say.. 3 1 East Lynne 7 6 Fielding Manor 9 6 Fetter Lane to Gravesend.. 2 Fun in a Post Office 4 2 Give Ale My Wife 3 3 Hal Hazard, 25c S 3 How He Did It .*', 2 No. 24 66 116 52 141 17 130 153 :o.3 50 140 74 35 29 47 95 77 11 99 82 9 3 127 106 194 158 1 63 49 1 39 91 36 88 34 69 1 2:; 32 I2S 149 90 61 37 44 81 150 1 09 149 129 85 OTHERWISE MARKED. M. F. HandvAn.lv 2 Hans, the Dutch J. P 3 1 Hash 4 2 Henry Gra'nden 11 8 Hidden Treasures 4 2 Hints on Elocution Hints to Amateurs Haunted House 2 How Sister Paxev got Her Child Baptized 2 1 How She has Own Way... 1 3 How He Popped Quest'n.. I 1 How to Tame M-in-Law.. 4 2 How Stout Y'r Getting... 5 2 Hunter of the Alps 9 4 In the Wrong Box 3 In the Wrong Clothes..... 5 3 Joe's Visit 2 1 John Smith '5 3 Jumbo Jum 4 3 Killing Time 1 1 Jjady Audlev's Secret 6 4 Lady of Lyons 12 5 Lick Skillet Wedding 2 2 Lodgings for Two 3 Lost...... 6 2 Mr. Hudson's Tiger Hunt 1 1 M iriams Crime 5 2 Man and Wile 12 7 Matrimonial Bliss i 1 Michael Erie.. 8 3 Miller of Derwent W'tr... 5 2 Mischievous Nigger 4 2 Mistletoe Bough 7 3 Mother's Fool 9 1 Mr. and .Mrs. Prinze 7 2 My Heart's in Hisjhl'ds .. 4 3 My Wife's Relations 4 4 Musical Darkey 2 New Years in N. Y 7 6 No Cure, No Pay 3 1 Not as Deaf as lie Seems 2 Not So Bad After All 6 5 Obedience 1 2 Old Phil's Birthday 5 2 Old Pompey 1 1 On the Sly .1 3 2 her People's Children.. 3 2 Our Awful Aunt 4 4 OurDaughters 8 6 Outcast's Wife 12 3 AFTER TEN YEARS OR THE MANIAC WIFE, An Original Romantic Drama, IN THREE ACTS, BY B. W. HOLLEXBECR, If. D. With the exits and entrances, positions of the performers on the stage, and the whole of the stage business carefully marked, from the author's original manuscript. — — <>•- ^-i^-<»— . Entered according to act of Congress in the year 1885, by A. D. AMES, in the office of the Librarian of Congress at Washington, «— M -r°rr M — ^> ffl —CLYDE, OHIO: — • A. D. AMES, PUBLISHER, \ AFTEE TEN YEARS; OR, THE MANIAC WIFE. CHARACTERS. \ providential meeting? Here am I, lost in the forest, a night of dark- ness and storm coming on ; when a young man — a stranger, finds me fainting and exhausted— offers me his guidance and protection which 1 perforce accept. I must permit him to accompany me home; tc my home, which has been so jealously guarded from the outside world, for ten long years. Yes, I must brave my father's aner, for without his assistance, I cannot hope to reach my home to-night; I must choose between the perils of the forest, and' my father's wrath. Oh, why did this necessity arise? why did I wander so far from home? Circumstances will thus force a part of our well-kept se- cret from us. I must submit to the inevitable. And this stranger r— he is young and handsome, and 1 am sure well bred; his face and bearing assure me I have nothing to fear from him. (looks r.) Ah! he comes, and with a companion — perhaps my estimate of him is wrong, I will soon know. Enter Wallace and Dobbs, r. Dobbs. I tell ye, mister, I thought ye wer lost, or had been foully dealt with down in that devilish haunted old house, and so I come out through the woods a hollerin' like all creation to see if I could come acrasst ye any where; and as good luck would have it, I found the trail we tuk this morning, aud.so struck ye all right. Wallace. I must thank you again, Dobbs, for the interest and friendship you express; you will lose nothing I assure you, I will pay you liberally. But here is a young lady, whom I found lost and fainting, who needs shelter from the coming storm. Where is the nearest house? Dobbs. The nearest house is that consarned old rookery in the glen. Wallace. Well, let us go at once, we are wasting precious time — the storm will soon be upon us. Hodna. Yes, yes, do not delay longer, (aside) Father's anger cannot be as terrible as my present situation. Dobbs, Come on, then; we'll storm the blamed old castle, if we can't get in without. Come! Wallace, (to Hodna) Allow me to assist you — the way is rough, and we must hasten. (Hodna takes his offered arm — they exit r. 8 AFTER TEN YEARS ; OR, THE MANIAC WIFE. SCENE THIRD. — The bar-room of a village tavern. John Perkins, the landlord, Pat Booney and Hezekiah Slick discovered, Perkins. I tell you what, it's devilish queer that two fine gentle- men should he looking for the haunted house in Witches' Glen in one day. Booney* I'll shwear to that same meself, for it's the queerest busi- ness oive sane this many a day, sure. Perkins. The mystery is, how did they ever find out there is such a place? Booney. Shure that's a question oive no manes of answering at all, at all. Slick. Mebbe if yeou'd ask one o' them chaps yeou'd find out. Booney. Divila bit would I care to be siskin' the ould party wid the portly watch seal, for unless Pat Rooney is off his parpendicular entirely ye'd he moighty apt to git a rap along side the gourd, that would remind yez of a Donnybrook fair. Perkins. And then the young fellow giving Jonathan Dobbs twenty dollars to help him get to the old place, shows pretty clear that there is a bigger mystery about the whole thing than any of us has suspected. Booney. That's mighty true for yez, landlord, and it's meself that'll be figgerin' out the mysterious mystery of the whole thing mighty soon^ I can tell yez. Slick. I've hern a mighty sight o' talk about this haunted house in my emigratory perambulations about the country. Old Aunty Dillas who lives up in Mullen Lane, sed as how she didn't believe any one lived thai* 'ccpt ghosts and sich. But I'm darned if I wouldn't like to find out, and I'd like to appoint a committee o' ten to carry on an exhaustin' examination o' the hull concern. What d'ye say, Paddy, will ye make one o' that committee? Booney. Arrah, now ye's speekin' right out in meetin', so ye are. Give us yer hand, ye traveler merchant; I'll freeze to yez as close as if the thermomater were a foot below Ceasar. (they shake hands Perkins. I'd really like to know what started Jonathan out in such a big hurry awhile ago. Slick, Thar's some more o' this mysterious mystery hangin' around this affair that Paddy and me must elucidate purty consider- able. Eh, Paddy? Booney. Yes right again, partner; an' it'll be a mighty dark saycret if we don't git it dead to rights before long. Hold on there, Pat, ef there ain't the ould party wid the portly watch seal a comin' smack into the house. Enter Job Brandon, R. Brandon. Landlord, I would like supper immediately. Perkins. I will attend to it at once. {exit, l. Booney. Mister Slick, how did yez find the folks down in Witches' Glen the other day? Brandon starts, half turns around, quickly recovers his composure, is closely watched by both men. Slick.. Wall, jest so— so middling like. Doin' purty well consider* in'. Booney. An' when are yez goin' down again? AFTER TEN YEARS ; OR, THE MANIAC WIFE. 9 Slick. In a few days I reckon. Ye see they sorter wanted some merchandise I didn't hey' in stock — stock o' summer goods kinder run clown ye know — so when I get my new stock I'm agoin' to meander down that way again an' give 'em a chance to lay in a supply o' fine goods, such as they kin git no where else. Sold only by H. v Slick, Esq., proprietor o' the greatest travelin' ein-po-ri-um, dry goods, notions, etc. Booney. Arrah now, me travelin' dry goods store; when you make yer next thrip to the ould place couldn't yez give me a clark- ship? Oi'd like mighty well to make the acquaintance of them in- terestin' people who live with the ghosts and hobgobblins down for- uinst the big rock. Slick. Paddy, did ye ever hear o' peepin'Tom? Booney. Pa pin' Tom? And who the devil is papin' Tom? T never heard o' him. Slick. Ye see, Paddy, he peeped once too often and lost his eye- sight. Roomy. And by the same tokin yez think Pd lose me own eye- sight bv takin' ;i pape too much? Niver a bit of it, me Soloman friend, I'll be mighty careful of that. Brandon. {.tio'Slick) It seems yon know something of the mys- terious people who live in Witches' Glen? Slick. I might know more and I might know less. Brandon. Well, tell us what you do know about them. Yout conversation has interested me greatly. There is, I believe, a vein of superstition in every person's nature, and that I have been endow- ed with a fair share of it I am willing to admit. Slick. No siree, you'll never git Hezekiah Slick to tell tales on his customers. Booney. That's right, me travelin' emporium. That kind of sentiment makes the whole world kin. Give me yer hand, I likes to shake with an honest man. If ye wasn't a Yankee oi'd swear ye was an Irishman. ( they shake hands Brandon. You misunderstand me, I do not wish to pry into family secrets, I only feel curious about these people because I have heard so many queer things about them, and you seem better able to gratify my love of the marvelous than any one I have seen. So I trust you'will satisfy my curiosity in some degree. Slick. I might be able to satisfy your curiosity but I ain't agoin' in that direction. Booney. Stick to yer text, me b'y. Yer on the high road to im- minence and distinction. Brandon, (aside) How can I open that fool's mouth? Enter Perkins, the landlord, L. Perkins. Your supper is readj r . This way, sir. (exit landlord and Brandon, L. Slick. That chap wants to find out somethin' mighty bad, and so do we, don't we Paddy? ■ Booney. Yer right again', me b'y ; an' as sure as Saint Patrick was a gentleman we'll be at the bottom of it before long. Slick. Yes, Paddy, yer a cute one. The interrogations ye pro- pounded set him agoin' in good shape. He thinks we know a heap about this thing, an' he'll want to find it all out. ^0 AFTER TEN YEARS ; OR, THE MANIAC WIFE. Booney. See here, me jewil, I know yez got a foin eddieation, but if ye'd plaze leave out some of them big words an' try to talk the "blessed King's English t' would be obligin' me ye'd be. Slick. All right, Paddy. As near as 1 can make out ye never had a tarnal sight o' schoolin', an' to oblige ye I'll endeavor to leave out some of the big words. But ye set; a man in my line o' business must learn to use mighty takin' language — it's a part o' his stock in trade ye know. Booney. Oive no doubt of it at all, at all, for it would be takin' meself a divil of a time to make out the maneing of them. Slick. I tell ye Paddy, when I get time, I'll give ye a few lessons in the art o' talkin' that'll surprise you. Booney. It'ssurprisin' me ye've been fur a long while wid yer big words an' yer solemn face. Why, me b'y, any man to look at yez would be willin' to swear ye couldn't lie or ehate no more thin an out an' out pracher. Slick. Supposin' we change the subject o' conversation. I reck- on we can find suthin' o' more general interest to talk about. Booney. Oi'm ever wid yez, as the corn said to the tight boot. Give us a start an' away we go. Slick. Come on, Paddy, we must be stirin'. Let's take a walk an' be a maturin' some plan o' action. Come on. ( exit Slick and Booney, r. Enter Brandon, l. Brandon. Halloa! the traveling merchant and his would-be- clerk are gone. He evidently knows something about these people in the Glen, and I suppose the only way to open his mouth is to un- lock it with a golden key. I'll try its potency when I see him again. I must devise some plan by which to penetrate to the shell of their recluse and get at the kernel of his identity. 1 am very positive there is no mistake, but I must be doubly certain before I move. The game is a desperate one and requires the utmost caution. I mustnot alarm him until I am ready to act. I must mature my plans at once. I have never failed in any scheme, I will not fail in. this. And she, perdition blast her, has managed to elude the vigi- lance of her keepers and make her escape. She may cause me trouble at any time. If I can get her in my power again I will end forever the possibility of further trouble from her. She has been a thorn in my flesh for years. She has kept the fires of hell burning in my soul. I loved her once — she scorned me and choose another; since that time I have live;! only for revenge. I hate them both. For ten years they have felt the scorching breath of my hatred— they shall feel it still. She has escaped me for a time, but he is in my power. I feel the thrills of my coming triumph — of my re-" venge. I must be moving; time flies and 1 am all impatience. ( exit, r. Enter Mrs. Archer and Emily Joyce, d. c. Mrs Archer. At last, dear Emily, we have reached a haven of safety. We can surely conceal ourselves among these mountains so effectually that even Job Brandon's lynx-eyed hate cannot discover us. AFTER TEN YEARS; OR, THE MANIAC WIFE. 11 Emily. I am confident we shall be perfectly safe here, Mrs. ■Archer. And yon will now have the opportunity of obtaining the vest you so much need. Mrs A. Yes, Emily, I feel a buoyancy of freedom which I have not felt before for years. It seems to me that I am now free from the persecutions of that incarnate villain. I feel new hope— new life. I can almost believe my storm 7 tossed life has at last reached a Safe harbor. God grant it may be so. Emily. Yes, the sky is once more clear, the star of hope is shin- ing brightly upon us. Ah ! here comes mine host. Enter landlord, l. Perkins. Ahem! In what way can I serve you, ladies? Emily. We would like a quiet room and supper served in it, please. Perkins, {bowing) Your supper will be ready in half an hour, and I will see that your room is prepared at once. {exit, bowing Emily. I believe our lives have fallen in pleasant places. Our host beams with good nature and hospitality, and the house is neat and well appointed. 3Irs A. Yes, Emily, everything seems as pleasant and quiet here. I feel so secure, so free from apprehension, it seems like a new world. [ cannot at once dispel the shadow of my life, and the old horror creeps over me at times. "But hope springs eternal from the human heart," and 1 live on. Oh, if I could only penetrate the mystery of my loved one's fate. Emily. There, dear friend, let us think of brighter things. En- joy your freedom and the beauties around 3 r ou. Look upon the bright side — all will yet be well. Here comes the landlord, we will try and get some much needed rest. Enter landlord, R. Perkins. Ladies, your room is prepared. I will show you the Way. {exit> l., landlord showing them out. Change to SCENE FOUBTH.—A village street. Enter, l., Pat Booney and Slick* Booney. Well, me solemn friend, how air ye progressin' ? Slick* See here, partner, I've been talkin' around an' makin* some observations, an' I've made up my mind to go down to the Glen to onct an' look arter the biz at headquarters. That thar chap that wee see at the tavern this afternoon, is a skirmishin' 'round right lively, an' I've abeout concluded we'll hev' to hurry if we get ahead o' him. Booney. Ah, me jewil, that's the way oi likes to hear yez talk. Ye may count on Pat Rooney every time, an' if we two can't make things as loively as a Donnybrook fair, fer any spalpane who nades his mug frescoed, may Old Nick fly away wid the likes of me. Slick* Hold on, Paddy, it's a mighty good time to keep yer jaw a little quiet. Here comes our friend of the tavern. Booney. Mum is the word. 12 AFTER TEN YEARS ; OR, THE MANIAC WIFE. Enter Brandon, r. Brandon. Halloa ! lads. I have been looking for you. Roomy. Is it lookin' fer us, ye say? Ye can be lookiu' at us now if ye have a mind to, so ye can. Brandon. See here, I want to talk business with you. Slick. Fire away. Brandon. I learned from your conversation to-day that you know something of the people who live in Witches' Glen. Slick. Wa'al, supposin' I do? Brandon. Now I want you to tell me all you know about them, and perhaps I'll need your assistance in making some arrests and "in various other matters which you will know about in due time. The labor will be light and the pay large. What say you, is it a bar- gain ? Slick. See here, mister, we'll kind o' take this thing into con- sideration for a few minutes an' let ye know what we'll do. I sup- pose we'll find ye here or hereabouts when we git back? Brandon. Yes, yes, I will be here. Do not; remain away long as time is precious. We must be moving. {exit Roone'y and Slick, h. — If those fellows serve me faithfully I am sure to succeed. Ha! there comes two ladies, and I 'could almost swear I know one of them. No, no, it is impossible; she cannot have found her way to this out of the way place. However, I must be cautious. It may be her, and if it is, the devil has surely conspired to help his own. I will conceal myself and await developments. (steps around corner, l. Enter Mrs. Archer and Emily from r. Mrs A. This mountain air revives me; I feel new life and vigor, and this glad sense of freedom lightens the dark cloud of sorrow which has so long been about me. Can it be that I have at last es- caped my persecutors, at last reached the morning of a happier life? Oh ! if I could only realize it, how grateful I should be. Emily. Dear Mrs. Archer, do not think of the past, bury it for- ever from your memory. Bury it as deeply as we are buried from the great sinful world without. Mrs A. Dear Emily, I only wish I could forever ban'sh the recol- lection of my great wrong. I will strive to do so, but years of per- secution has graven it upon my memory too deeply to be ensily effac- ed. Oh, Emily, you can form no just conception of what I have suf- fered, of my long agony; I have prayed and striven for release, but failure was written upon every effort, every prayer. I have longed for death, and in a frenzy of despair had many, times attempted to end my miserable life. But all to no purpose, except perhaps, to in- crease the rigor of my imprisonment, if that had been possible. I often wondered if God heard my prayer, and as days, months and 3 r ears came and went, and brought no relief, I denied the existence of a benificent creator, and in my despair peopled the universe with hideous monsters and their j >y and sport. At last 1 sank into a despair so deep, so hopeless that thought and action were well nigh paralyzed ; even my keepers cruelty could scarcely rouse me from this stupor of horror. Then you came to my prison like an angel of mercy and deliverance, and with j r ou came the first ray of hope that AFTER TEN YEARS ; OR, THE MANIAC WIFE. 13 had pierced the gloom for ten long weary years. Can yon wonder that hope has withered ? Emily. Dear Mrs. Archer, do not think of your troubles now, they are past never to return. Mrs A, My little comforter, you are a veritable ray of sunshine. I owe you more than I can ever repay, but Emily. Hush! do not speak of that, you were my mother's dear- est friend. You did everything for her, and I am but doing what she would do if she were here, and I am sine she smiles approval at my course; and her angel song is all the sweeter for my doing. All I can do will never make you my debtor. Mrs A. I will say no more of that, and I believe I could once more be calmly happy if I could know the fate of my husband and daughter. If they are living I could not expect a reconciliation, that villain has done his work too well for that. But if I knew their fate* if I were sure that they are dead and at rest, it would relieve me of this suspense. If I could kneel at their graves and pray, if I could whisper my love for them to the daisies perhaps an angel hovering near might take the whisper to the great beyond. I would then feel my ioved.ones would Vnovv my innocence and love me still. Or if I could know they are living, and could see them once more — only once — see them, myself unseen ; hear their voices unobserved, I could go away forever, filled with a great joy in comparison with my present feeling of uncertainty. t Emily. Do not give way to grief. I say now, as I have said many times before, that I believe your husband and daughter are alive and well, and will be again restored to you. Mrs A. I have hoped against hope until I* can hope no more, but as longas I am free from persecution I will try to be resigned. Emily. I am glad to hear you say that. Let us now return to the inn, where we. can rest and mature our plans for the future. (exit Mrs. Archer and Emily, R, Enter Brandon, L. Brandon. She here? She who could ruin me if her story should be known and believed? What am I to do first? I mu&t silence her — yes, silence her forever. But first 1 must penetrate the mys- tery surrounding this hermit. If he should prove to be Randolph Archer — as I hope he may — I must dispose of him as a preliminary, and then she will be my especial care, i I cannot, will not, give up revenge, and the fortune I have so long enjoyed. By one means or another I will dispose of these people. I have gone too far to retract, even if I felt disposed to do so, which I do not. And so, by one bold stroke, I will make myself absolute master of the situation. Ah ! here comes my brave allies. Enter Slick and Booney, l. — Well, what is your decision? Are we partners? Remember I will pay you well. Slick. Wa'al, mister, we kinder thought we'd help ye out with this here business, so we might as well commence to onct. Brandon. All right, men. (gives money ; If you serve me faith- fully you will have no cause to regret it. 14 AFTER TEN YEARS ; OR, THE MANIAC WIFE. Mooney. Well, gineral, what have we to do? Give us yer orders an' we're the b'ys'to follow 'em. Brandon. As a beginning, I want our traveling merchant to tell rne what he knows about the old stone house and its occupants. Slick. Wall, ye see toy knowledge o' the old stun house and folks ain't so very extensive. All I know is what I've hearn when I've been a goin' around the kentry in my official capacity. Brandon. And were you never there ? Slick. Not as anybody knows on. Brandon. Why you said you had been there, and that the folks were well, and Booney. Hould on there, yer along ways off the track; 'twas me- self that asked the traveliu' 'sfcorc-kaper how the folks war, an' he sed when he wor there last they wor well. I'll be willin' to shwear lie told the blessed truth. Brandon. H'm ! I see a neat little trick — a sleek job. Booney. An' what the divil would yez expect but a slick job from Misther Slick himself? Brandon. Well, let that pass. If you serve me well hereafter I will overlook this little stratagem. So now let us to business. Slick. Ail right, let the procession move. Brandon. Now 1 want to find out all I can about those people in the Glen. I want to know how many there are ; how they look ; how they live; in short 1 want to know as much of their history as 'tis possible to obtain. "You understand ? Slick. Yas, I think I see the pint. But how are we to make it? Brandon. Uow far is it from here? Slick. Nigh onto six mile as nigh as I kin figger. Brandon. Six miles? Quite a tramp, but it must be done. See here, my idea is this; we must go down there to-night, gain admit- tance to the house if possible, learn everything we can, and then hit upon some plan of action as suggested by circumstances. Slick. That'll do, that'll do.' But see it is a big walk for j^ou, an my idea is this : Paddy an me will go down thai" to-night an scout around a bit, an' ye go back to the tavern an' take a good rest fer to- morrow. In the mornin' we'll report, an' then ye can determine jist what ye want to do an' no mistake* Brandon. I believe your advice is good, and I will do as •you pro- pose. Now be sure you see all there is to see and hear all you can. Are you armed ? Slick. Only with what naft.tr 1 furnished us. Ye don't think we'll need weapons, do ye? Brandon. I hope not, yet you may. Here is a pistol for each of you, they are both well loaded. Do not use them unless it is neces- sary, but if it is necessary use them well. Booney. All right mehearty. Oi'd sooner have a good shilkilah than all the barkers like that oi could carry. However, oi'll take it along fer pastime. Brandon. Now remember, no blabbing. Keep your mouths closed and your eyes open. Report early. Learn all you can. I will re- turn to the inn. , (exit Brandon, r. Slick. Paddy, if I've got any sense, that man is a villain. There r s some deviltry going on here that's sufferin' to be looked arter, an' I think we's just the fellers to look arter it. What do you think? Booney. Thira's me sintiments to a T, an' if we don't make the AFTER TEN YEARS ; OR, THE MANIAC WIFE. * 15 spalpane look siven ways for Good-Friday, thin mo name's not Pat- rick Kooney at all, at all' • Slick. Now we're oft*. Keep all ye's wits about ye, an' suthm* will transpire. Come, Paddy, (exit liooney and Slick, l. Change to SCENE FIFTH.— A room in the old stone house. Comfortahbj furnished. Center table, easy chairs, books and papers on table. When the curtain rises Itandolph Archer discovered seated' by table, l., read' ing book. J * r Archer, (looking at book absently) Paradise Lost. This fits my mood to-day. If 1 contemplate the tortures of the damned, perhaps my own torments will seem less by comparison, Retrospection only dwells upon a barren waste, a human desert, a shifting sea of unut- terable loneliness, sw r ept by the simoon of bitter memories. All life is blasted, not a sprig of hope is green; all, all, is withered — dead. What is this thing we call life ? It is but a moment of check- ered changing light, a narrow strip of day betw-een two eternal nights. And yet we strive for it, we do not wish to lose it. We have no fear of the dark eternity from which we emerged — that is past; we only fear the eternity to come. We are ushered into this life through no volition of our own, we are hurried out of it against our will. We are mere reeds shaken — broken by the winds and as soonforgotten. Is life then worth the living? Is this forced exis- tence worth preserving? Can the terrors of the unknown, equal the suffering of the known ? My life for years has been a continual hor- ror; a nightmare, can eternity be worse? Ten years ago to-day, I sought this lonely spot, to hide myself and my sorrows, from a pitiless world. During all these years, I have seen but one human being other than my own household. I have seen my daughter grow. to lovely womanhood ; expand her beauties like an opening rose, and fill my house with the fragrance of her love, and presence. As I look on her fresh young beauty, I feel this cannot last ; she needs better com- panionship than I can give her. She will soon begin to grow im- patient of the restraints imposed upon her, and will wear out her bright young life against the dingy bars of her prison. But what can I do? Here am I, a wreck on life's stream, floating onward with the tide, with no strength and disposition to make my way against the current; the only thing that binds me to life, is my daughter's love. Oh, if I could clasp her in my arms and we two sink into the blessed oblivion of the great unknown together, in my dying moment I w/ould be supremely happy. It cannot be, I must struggle on, for her sake I must live and endure. It is growing dark, and Rodna is not yet returned, what can have detained her? (goes tc window and looks out) A furious storm is almost upon us, and yet she is not here, (walks hurriedly back and forth, lightning and thunder) Oh, Heaven ! Where is she ? Why does she stay 9 She must be lost in the forest — lost to perish, (storm) Yes, she must be lost — lost on such anight as this — in the forest perishing — torn by wild beasts ! (kneels) Oh, God of heaven ! spare me this agony! Save oh, save my child ! She is all I have ! Bring her back to me, bring her back tome! (furious storm, rises and moves about wildly) There is no justice, no pity — no God — nothing but agony, agony ! I will search for her. 16 AFTER TEN YEARS ; OR, THE MANIAC WIFE. Enter Iiodna, followed bij Wallace and Dobbs, Archer. She must not die ! (sees Iiodna, and stands stupefied, Eodna. (rushes to him and throws her arms about his neck) Fath- er, father, I am here alive and well. Archer. Yes, it is you, safe and well; heaven be praised! But why were you gone so long? I was almost crazed, when I thought of you lost in the forest— I am thankful my fears are not realized. Iiodna. Dear father, I was lost, completely lost, and should have perished miserably, had not I received assistance. Archer. My daughter you alarm me again, when you speak of perishing. But who is your protector? Heaven bless him! Iiodna. I do not know who he is — I only know he met me in the forest, when I was fainting — perishing, and guided me home. Archer. What, did become to the house? You did not ask him to enter? Iiodna. Why, father! After what he did for me, not ask him in Dtit of this storm ? Archer. Rodna, you know I never extend hospitality to any one, under any circumstances. I will reward him liberaly, but cannot give him entertainment. Where is he Rodna? Wallace, (coming forward) He is here, sir. Archer, (aside) 1 fear my secret is dip covered, (aloud) Allow me to thank you for the service you rendered my daughter; and also allow me to offer you something more substantial than thanks. (takes out pocket-book. Wallace. Pardon me, sir, I feel amply repaid for all my trouble, in the consciousness that I was able to assist your daughter, and all I ask is permission for myself and companion to remain with you until the storm subsides. Archer. It may seem very rude in me, to refuse so small a request after the great service you rendered my daughter; but for ten years no one has crossed my threshold, except members of my own family. My rule is inflexible in this, and cannot be broken ; so however rude and ur thankful I may seem, I must request— nay insist that you retire from this room — and house. Iiodna. Father, do let these strangers stay Until the storm is over. Archer. It cannot be my child, I would gladly give them money — anything — but permission to tarry beneath this roof. I must insist gentleman, that you leave my house at once. Dobbs. (to Wallace) See here, we'd better be goin' or we'll have the devil to pay here, an' no mistake. Wallace, (to Archer ) I am very sorry that I consider it necessary to disregard your order for a short time. I have something to say to you which is of the utmost importance to you and yours. Archer. I am at a loss, sir, to understand your meaning; you a stranger have something of importance to say to me? I do not be- lieve you — it is only an artifice to gain time. Why, I have had no commucation with the outside world, for ten years. Wallace. And yet sir, with all your doubts and disbelief, what I have told you is true. I have traveled a thousand miles with the sole purpose of seeing: you Mr. Archer. Archer, (astcle) My God ! To see me? I am lost, (aloud) You are mistaken — mistaken, do you hear? My name is not Archer — you are in error, (aside) Oh, heaven! It has come at last, (aloud) AFTER TEN YEARS ; OR, THE MANIAC WIFE. 17 You — both of you — leave my house, now — at once — and forever. Wallace. Mr. Archer I will not leave 3'our house, until I have an opportunity to explain my meaning and intentions. Archer. I don't wish to hear anything you can say; I only want you to take yourself off. Once more I command you to go. Wallace. And once more I refuse. You must hear my story. Archer. You will not go? The consequences be upon your own head, {draws pistol, about to level it at Wallace, Dobbs rushes forward siezes his arm and disarms him.) Rodna. Father, father, what would you do? Archer. What would I do ? Defend "myself and household against unwarranted intrusion. Rodna. Oh, father, commit murder? No, no, you must be calm, you must think. Archer. Think child? I am always thinking, thinking of the wrong and persecutions I have suffered ; thinking of the weary years spent in exile ; thinking of my life blasted ; thinking of a future with- out hope; thinking until my brain whirls, and my only object, a desire for revenge and death. Thinking — thinking — thinking of the past — of the present — and of that to come, (knocking heard) Ha! ■What is that? Am I to be forever pursued and persecuted ? (knock- ing) Is there no way to escape my fate ? Roony. (outside) Open the dure my by'e, we'd as well mate the storm inside as to stay out here an' be drowned loike blind kittens. Enter Slick and Rooney l., without ceremony. Dobbs hides, Wallace, Archer, and Rodna on R. facing l — as they enter, Rodna advances to meet them; Archer much agitated talking with Wallace. Rodna. What means this unceremonious intrusion? Slick. Your servant ma'am. ( bows) We were kitched out in this big storm an' so we come in to wait a bit until it is over. ^Rodna. This is an unwarranted liberty; you must retire. Rooney. We couldn't think of it till the storm sthops. Archer. You will think of it now — there is the door, go ! Enter Brandon, hurriedly l. comes to c. all stare at him, Brandon. Well my lads, I am here, I thought perhaps I might be needed, so I procured a guide, and came on in of spite of storm and darkness, (sees Archer, aside) Ha, ha! It is he, I have tracked him to his lair, (aloud) Well, Eandolph Archer, you do not seem overjoyed to see me ! You give the friend and companion of your boyhood and youth, a very cool reception I think — have you no word of welcome for your old friend ? Archer. Job Brandon! Brandon. Yes, Kandolph Archer, Joe Brandon. Why don't you welcome me? . Archer. Why do you persecute me? You destroyed my home, and made me an exile — is not that enough? Brandon. No it is not enough; I want to give you one more pang; I want to see you writhe in mortal agony, when I tell you your wife was innocent in thought and deed; when I tell you she was pure as an angel; when I telf you she was the guileless instrument I used to> brand'you a — Archer. Job Brandon, you have made a mistake in seeking me ou£ 18 AFTER TEN YEARS ; OR. THE MANIAC WIFE. Ten years ago, I registered a solemn vow, that if ever yon crossed my path, I would end your miserable life. And now 1 will make my vow good. Archer starts towards Brandon, who draws pistol and shoots Archer. Slick and Bo&ney attempt to interfere for Brandon, Wallace knocks Slick down, Dobbs rushes in and trips Booney; mean time Bodna kneels and supports Archer y s head. Brandon, (triumphantly) Ah, Randolph Archer, who triumphs now? (Tableau.) CURTAIL. ACT II. A period of four or five weeks is supposed to have elapsed, between act I. and act II. SCENE FIB ST. — A room in the Inn, substantially furnished. Mrs. Archer and Emily Joyce, discovered seated at table r. Emily. Dear Mrs. Archer, why are you so sad to-day? The storm of last night seems to have left a shadow upon your face. Are you sure you are quite well ? Mrs A. Yes, Emily, I am quite well physically, but my mind is filled with gloomy forebodings. There is a nameless shadow hover- ing over me, a something I cannot define, seems to be crushing out my life. Emily. These I think are. groundless fears, it is but a reaction from the buoyancy yon have felt for the past few weeks; so cheer up, and let me see j t ou smile again. Mrs A. Yes Emily, for your sake T will endeavor to be my wont- ed self. But this dread is upon me like the incubus of some horrid dream. Emily. Explain your fears. Tell me what you dread. Mrs A. I cannot put my fears into words. There is before me a gigantic form of shadowy terror, that goes on expanding like the poor fisherman's genii, until it fills the whole horizon — a nameless, shapeless, horror; a presentment of some terrible calamity is ever present— I cannot shake it oft'. Emily. I hope and believe your presentments of evil will prove false. Come, let us take a walk; the brightness outside will dissi- pate your unpleasant thoughts. Mrs A. I dare not go far from the house; we will go into the garden for a short time. Get my wraps and bonnet, please. (exit, Emily, l.) I must make an effort to s-hake oft' this fear; perhaps a breath or two of this delicious mountain air will aid me. Enter 3Irs. Perkins, c. Mrs P. How are you feeling to-day, Mrs. Archer? You look worn out. I fear you are not well. Mrs A. I am not feeling well to-day, Mrs. Perkins. You have AFTER TEN YEARS ; OR, THE MANIAC WlFSf. l9 heard something of my history and therefore know I have been the victim of systematic persecution for years. And to-day the old dread is upon me, I cannot shake oif the impression that some terri- ble calamity is about to befall me. It makes no difference which Way I turn I can see nothing but the scowling malignant face of my enemy. Oh! Mrs. Perkins, it is terrible, terrible! Mrs P. Do not give way to your dark forebodings, Mrs. Archer. If your old enemy should find you he could do you no harm here— you have friends who would protect you. Mrs A. I know I have in yourself and husband, true friends; but I could not think of bringing trouble upon you, as it would surely do if you should openly defend me. My persecutor is wealthy and powerful, and if he should find me here, and protected by you, he would stop at nothing until yon had felt the blistering touch of his vengeance. No, Mrs. Perkins, I must light the battle alone. Mrs P. You have not told me the name of your enemy. Is that a secret ? Mrs A. Oh, no. I did not wish to burden you With all my troubles so I did not tell his name or all his villainies. His name is Job Brandon. Mrs P. Job Brandon ! Mrs A, You seem* surprised, Mrs. Perkins. Do you know him? Mrs P. I have seen him. Enter Emily, L. Emily. Here are your wraps and bonnet. Good morning Mrs. Perkins, I hope you are well ? Mrs P. Quite well, thank you. Emily. Come, Mrs. Archer, we will be going. I am so anxious to see the roses on your cheeks and the smile on your lips again. Mrs A. As Emily insists so strongly I cannot refuse. Mrs P. Do not go far from the house, you are not able to take a long walk this morning. Mrs A. Only into the garden, we will soon return. (exit Emily and Mrs. Archer, R. Mrs P. Job Brandon ! I was sure I could not be mistaken in the man. He has villain stamped too plainly upon his countenance. His presence here casts a shadow upon Mrs. Archer's path. I must consult with my husband; Mrs. Archer shall be protected if we can do it. Enter Perkins, c. —Ah I John, I am glad you came in, l was just going to look for you. Perkins* Well, Matilda, what is it now? Are the provisions all gone? or the carpets give out? or the cook in a tantrum? or the chambermaids on a strike ? or——* Mrs P. There, John, that will do. You seem to imagine I can think or talk of nothing but provisions, or servants. That ain't it, I Want to speak of Mrs. Archer. Perkins. Of Mrs. Archer? Why, what's the matter .with her ? She ain't going away is she? . Mrs P. Well, I don't know. Do you know, John, I have found out who the villain is that's persecuted her so long? Perkins, Is that so ? Who is he ? I'd like to punch his head. 20 £FTER TEN YEARS ; OR, THE MANIAC WIFE. M'r s P. It's Job Brandon ! Perkins. Job Brandon ? Pshaw, Matilda, you are getting demented. Mrs P. I tell you, John Perkins, I know what I'm talking about, and I say it's Job Brandon; and what's more I believe this same Job Brandon had more to do with this row at the old stone house than any of us think — that's what I believe. Perkins. I tell you, Matilda, I don't believe a word of it. Mr. Brandon pays well, and Mrs P. See here, John Perkins, don't you suppose a villain could pay as well as ail honest man? If that's all the reason you've got for thinking him honest it's a mighty poor one, I can tell you. Perkins. You say Mrs. Archer told you it was Brandon? Well, if she says so, I'll believe it. But Matilda, mebbe she is mistaken, mebbe there's another man by the name of Job Brandon. Mrs P. That of course is possible. But I believe this is the man. And I want you to keep your eyes and ears open, and if he is the villain as we suspect, we must help Mrs. Archer circumvent him. Perkins. That's so, Matilda. I believe Mrs. Archer is a mighty good woman, and I'll help her if I can. I want to see that peddler Slick; I'm sure he knows something about him. He's a mighty cute one; don't know as I can manage to get anything out of him, but I'll try. Mrs P. There he comes now, pack and all. I'll go and send him right in. (exit, c. Perkins. Now Matilda speaks of it there is something I don't quite like about this Brandon. He's polite enough, and all that, and he pays well, but there seems to be something lacking; I can't just tell what, but there's something, and 1 know it. If Ik; is the devil who has caused her all this trouble he'll wish he'd never been born. Enter Slick, c. ^How dye do ; how dye do, Mr. Slick ? Take a seat, take a seat. How is trade these days? Pretty good, I take it. Slick. Wa'al, yes, fair to middlin.' Don't think I've got any rea- son to complain. Perkins. How is the Widow Dill now? Slick. Why the widder's gettin' long purty fair T allow. She was considerable pert like when I was up to her house last Tuesday. Perkins. Ahem ! Yes, the widow is a getting along in years. Slick. Yas, she's a gittin' along into the seared and yeller leaf period, as the poet says. Perkins. I suppose the widow is getting too old to buy much? Slick. Ef you'd a hearn her a bargainin' for apiece o' blue and white figgerecl caliker, the other day, you'd a thought she was right in her prime. It takes a heap o' real down-right cuteness to sell her anything fur a livin' price. Perkins, {after a long pause) Oh ! by the way, Mr. Slick, have you heard anything new about the muss down at the old stone house ? Slick. No I ain't. Perkins. Do you suppose Brandon had anything to do with it? Slick. He might 'a had. Perkins. Mr. Slick, it's my private opinion Brandon is a villain. Slick. Mebbe he is. AFTER TEN YEARS', OR, THE MANIAC WIFE. 21 ' Perkins. And it's my opinion, Mr. Slick, that you know more abont this affair than you'd care to tell. Slick. What makes you think so? Perkins. I have reasons, and 1 think they are good ones. Slick. See here, landlord, ef you think your agoin' to pump me you've overshot yer mark, I can tell ye. Perkins. I don't want to pump you, Mr. Slick, but there are two ladies in my house who have been awfully wronged by that man, and I am bound to protect them if I can; and so I want to know what sort of a chap I've got to deal with. Slick. Who air these ladies ? Perkins. One is a Mrs. Archer, and Slick. Mrs. who? Perkins. Mrs. Archer and Slick, (jumping tip) Thunderation and the big-horn spoon! Perkins. Why, what's the matter? Have you gone crazy? Slick. Archer — Archer! Why drat my buttons that's' the old chaps name that lives in the haunted house. Perkins. You don't say? Slick. Yes I do say, and mean it too. See here, landlord, I want ter see Mrs. Archer; I kin tell her somethin' that'll do her lot's o' good or I'm a sinner. Perkins. All right, Mr. Slick; I'll go and bring'them right in if they'll come. '(exit, c. Slick. Now if this turns out as I'm purty sartin it will, it'll make a first-rate romance. That devil Brandon has broke up the Archer family I'll bet, and now he wants to make way with the old man. Thar's some deep plot here, but that cuss '11 find there's a purty big bug under the chip afore he's done. I'll git Paddy and we'll go fur him like sin. We'll make him wish he'd never struck this part of the country. I guess the wimmen air a comin.' Enter Perkins, Mrs. Archer, and Emily, l. Perkins. Mr. Slick, here are the ladies, Mrs. Archer and Miss Joyce. Slick. How dye do, how dye do. I am glad to see you, an' I be lieve ye'll be glad to see me when we come to an understanding. Emily. We are glad to meet you, Mr. Slick. Slick. Ye see, ladies, in my perambulations up an' down in this world I find out a good many queer things, an' among 'em I've found that a miserable skunk by the name of Job Brandon is a per- secutin' you Mrs A. What do you know of my relations with Job Brandon? Slick. I don't know nothin' pertickler about your relations with him, but I do know he's a sneakin' villain an' needs watchin.' Mrs A. Mr. Slick, when did you nie^t this man? ' Slick. I met him right here in this 'ere house. Mrs A. Here in this house? Merciful heaven, I am lost! Slick. Now, Mrs. Archer, don't go to takin' on, Job Brandon won't never harm ye here. That's what I wanted to see ye about, so ye wouldn't git skeered if ye should happen to see him kinder unex- pected like. Ye jist keep a stiff upper lip, an' if ye happen to git a hance to talk to him be as sassy as ye want to. 22 AFTER TEN YEARS ; OR, THE MANIAC WIFE. Mrs A. Oh, heavens! my worst fears are realized. I shall be in an agony of fear until I can escape him again. Oh, Emily, we must fly. Every moment we remain here increases my danger. He may discover me at any moment, and then I should be lost. Slick. Mrs. Archer, he knows ye are here now, an' the safest way is fer ye to stay right here, where ye know ye have friends. I tell ye again' that Job Brandon shan't never harm ye while Heze- kiah Slick kin lift a finger to help ye. So ye jest keep cool and listen an' you'll hear somthin' drop one 6' these days. Come, landlord, let's go an' fix our trap fer this cussed old fox. He's purty cute, but we'll fix him yet. {exit Slick and Perkins, l, Mrs A. Oh! Emily, Emily! What shall we do? In our fancied security we have been too careless. He has followed our track like a sleuth-hound, and is now only waiting to make me again his pris- oner. But that he shall never do ; I am prepared to take my own life, and rather than fall into his hands again I will do it. Yes, sooner than be in his power I will blot out forever my miserable ex- istence; rather than endure his tyranny and torture I will brave the wrath of outraged heaven, and escape him by destroying myself. The very gulf of hell, yawning at my feet, could not shake me with its terrors, as does his presence. Oh, I am indeed accursed. Emily. Do not give "way to despair. We are gaining friends. We could give htm battle on his own ground and gain the victory. I have more hope now than ever before. One more struggle and his power will be gone — you will then be free. 3Irs A. If I could feel your hope I would gladly meet and give him battle. Emily. Do not give way ; be brave, be resolute, all will yet be well. I will go and speak with Mrs. Perkins a few minutes. Mean- time summon up your courage and resolution — our friends will pro- tect us. Mrs A. Dear Emily, your courage inspires me with new hope. I w;ll summon up my resolution and battle for liberty. Emily. The clouds are lifting, be of good cheer, (exit Emily, L. Mrs A. This new strength and courage is a revelation to me; I feel almost equal to facing this villain and taunting him with his crimes. It may be the strength of desperation, but whatever the cause, it makes me seem like my old self. I could meet him now and deal him blow for blow. Enter Brandon, L., unobserved. -—He will not find me broken and dispirited, but with sufficient cour- age and determination to destroy forever his power over me. (sees Brandon) Ah ! Job Brandon, to what am I indebted for this visit? Brandon. To the great regard I have for you, Mrs. Archer. Al- low me to congratulate you ; you are looking remarkably well. Mrs A. Yes, the change from your fostering care to these moun- tains has made a wondrous change in me. Brandon. So I perceive. I suppose you will be ready to return with me to your old quarters at any time now ? Mrs A. Return with you? Kever. Brandon. You should be well aware that I have a way of accom- plishing whatever I undertake — a way of bending people to my will —or breaking them, if they prove refractory. AFTER TEN YEARS ; OR, TIIE MANIAC WIFE. 23 Mrs A. You need not call up recollections of your villainies, they will not soon be forgotten. Brandon. Villainies, Mrs. Archer? How can you say that after all I have for you ? Mrs A. How could I say. anything else after all you have done for me ? If I was asked to point out the incarnation of evil I would point to you and say, behold it there. Brandon, (laughs) Ha, ha, ha! I must say the opinion of me you express so freely and forcibly is not particularly flattering. Mrs A. Flattering? The arch enemy of mankind must retire abashed, and hide his diminished head when you are near. Brandon. 'Tis a pity to break in on so pleasant a conversation — but business before pleasure. I shall expect you to be ready to ac- company me in half an hour. Mrs A. Accompany you? Job Brandon your power over me is no more. There was a time when your step would send me crouch- and shivering into some dark corner; when your presence stupefied me with terror; when a glance from your eyes would turn me faint with tear. That time is no more, and never will be again. A worm when trodden upon will sting the heel that crushes it. You at- tempted to crush me and almost succeeded ; you will now learn that I can s ing. 1 have told my story and it is believed; a word from me and your life would not be safe a moment; one shout from me and strong and willing arms would instantly gather about me and ofl'er protection. Your crimes are bearing the fruit you have sown in iniquity. Now, sir, show your boasted power if you dare. Brandon. Woman, you know not with whom you are dealing. I am not so easily balked as you suppose. You are yet in ray power . nor wraths of gods, nor hate of devils, shall aid you to escape me. You shall go with me. He starts toward her, she steps back and presents pistol at Brandon, who stops and glares at her. Enter from r. and l., Perkins, Mrs. Perkins, Emily, Slick and Booney. Tableau. Mrs A. Back, wretch ! I had thought with this weapon to end my own life, but I have changed my mind. One step at your peril. (sees her Jriends and lowers pistol) There are my friends Job Bran- don. Do you think me weak and helpless ? I defy you now ! (Change to SCEXE SECOND.— A village street in 1st grooves. Enter Job Brandon, R. Brandon. She has foiled me, curses on her. Why did I wait, to parley with her? Dolt, idiot, that I am,«I might have known better. I should have seized and gagged her at once, thus making her escape impossible. Her fears are now aroused, and I must be doubly cau- tious. That fool of a peddler and his Irish companion seem to have deserted me, and at a critical time, too. No matter, I believe my cunning is more than a match for the block-heads she has secured for her defense. I must and will have her in my power at any cost. And then — well, no matter, she will trouble me no more. Now how am I to dispose of Randolph Archer ? My hand must have forgot 24 AFTER TEN YEARS ; OR, THE MANIAC WIFE. its cunning or I would then have completed half my revenge. And again I have put him on his guard. And that fellow Wallace, I think he is called, seemed to be on friendly terms with the family. He was very willing to assist in their defense. New complications seem to arise on every hand, but I will triumph yet, I will wait quietly a few days or weeks as mny seem necessary, and when the time is ripe for action sweep them from my path forever. (exit Brandon, l. Enter Slick and Booney, r< % Booney. An' did yez hear the bloody thafe a talkin' wid himself, me jewil ? SUck. Ye?. Paddy, and we didn't hear much good o' ourselves either, did we ? Booney. It's moighty little oi care for what the loiks of him sez. But what the divilair we goin' to do nixt? Slick. I'll tell ye, Paddy ; you go down to the oil stun house an' see if you kin find that chap Wallace, an' if ye kin find him tell him all ye know about the hull concern, an' git him to come up here if ye kin; an' I'll stay around here an' look arter this cuss Brandon. D'ye understand ? Booney. Yer right by'e, an' oi'l be off as lively as a bank cashier wid the money box. So long, me jewil. {exit Slick, r., Booney, l. SCENE THIBD. — A garden at the old stone house. Garden seat, r. c. Enter Bodna and Archer, r. Archer in dressing gown and slippers, looking pale and weak, leaning on Bodna" 1 s arm. Bodna. There father, rest yourself in the shade, this delicious breeze will do you good. Archer. Thanks child, you are indeed a most excellent nurse. Bodna. What can have detained Frank — Mr. Wallace I mean. He promisd to return in two weeks, and now it is nearly four since he left us. Archer. My old fate, Rodna. Hope has ever been to me a fickle goddess; she has ever lured me on and as often proved false — like a traveller in the desert who sees just before him a beautiful lake of rippling limpid water, dancing in the sunlight — he, parched with thirst, perishing, used his last atom of strength to reach it, the delus- ion of mirage. Heaven help us both. Bodna. Father, dear, dear father, do not despair — do not lose hope. I am confident our new found- friend will be true to us. This delay is caused by some unexpected circumstance. I know he will come, and with him the long expected and hoped for joy. Archer. Dear Rodna, youth and hope are ever companions, but the disappointment of years at last casts a shadow and hope shines but dimly. Boana. You are not old, father. Archer. Not in years, child ; but an eternity of suffering and sor- row has passed over me. Many times I have lifted the cup of hap- piness to my lips only to have it dashed to the ground and broken. Like Tantalus always athirst, but not a drop of nectar to cool my burning lips. I have fought against fate and been vanquished. I have struggled with despair and hoped on. Now, I can hope no more. AFTER TEN YEARS: OR, THE MANIAC WIPE. 25 fiodna* Share jour wrongs and sufferings with me, father, I am young and strong and will help you bear your sorrow. Confide hv me — tell me the story of your life. Archer. Qh, Rod na, child, you know not what you ask. And yet you must know some time—why delay ? Child, your father has the brand of Cain upon his forehead — he is accused of murder. Bodna. Murder! Oh! father, father, it is not true? Tell me it is not true ? Archer. No, no, it is false— false. If I did tnke her life it was a mistake ; I did not intend it I do not believe — Oh ! I know I did not kill her, but I have no means of proving my innocence. Bodna. Tell me all. Let me know the worst. Archer. Rodna, listen to me — listen to a story never before told to mortal ears; listen to a tale of horror, the thought of which almost unmans me. Years ago I possessed an ample fortune, was courted and petted by society; surrounded by friends, envied by some; the future opened before me joyously. I wooed and won a beautiful girl. We were married, and perfect happiness was mine. After a time one of the envious ones set about my ruin. Years came and went, but his hatred did not abate. He and an accomplice at "last made me jealous of my wife — craftily fed my passion. I watched her. One day I found her in his arms. I rushed into the room, felled him to the floor, and — struck her savagely, brutally, as she knelt at my feet begging, pleading to be heard. I. fled, I knew not where. When my reason returned I was in a miner's cabin, surrounded by rough but kind-hearted men. They told me that six months before I had come to them foot-sore and weary, and almost naked. They pitied me, took me in and gave me food, clothing, and shelter, and for six months I had labored with them in the mine. Then I thought of my home, of you, but eight years old, and the old madness almost came upon me again. I resolved to go back to the city ; I did so, and found myself branded a murderer. I was accused of killing my wife, your mother. After considerable search I found where you were. I had completed arrangements for flight, and for taking you with me, when I met Job Brandon. He recognized me at once. Told me warrants were out for my arrest. Offered to atone for his share in my crime, by furnishing me means for flight and concealment. I accepted his offer, and that night seized you and fled. After weeks of wandering I found this place and made it my home. You know our history. Bodna. Oh, father, you have suffered — do suffer. I do not be- lieve the blow you gave took my mother's life. If she was murdered Job Brandon did it, I am sure. Archer. No, I do not believe I killed her outright, and I have thought it possible she is yet living; but if she is living that is only slight mitigation of my crime. I was insanely jealous, and in my passion and desperation, did a deed that cannot be pardoned. If she be living what has she suffered? If she be dead, what am I? Can you wonder I have lost hope ? Bodna. It is indeed terrible, but I have faith in your innocence; and I believe this mystery will soon be solved and you will stand be- fore the world vindicated. Archer. Vindicated? No, no. If it could be proved that I did not take her life I might be vindicated in law, but at the tribunal of my own conscience, vindication is impossible. No penance I could 26 AFTER TEN YEARS ; OR, THE MANIAC WIFE. do, no misery I could endure, would wipe out the stain of my guilt. *Oh, Rodna, Rodna, that villain's ^confession proves her innocence and deepens my crime. Rodna. !S T ow, father, that I know your sorrow I will do what I can to help you bear it. Confide in me — trust me. Archer. 1 do and will, my child. I need your sympathy, youi support. You are my only anchor to the world — my only hope. Rodna. Dear father, if I cannot give you a son's strength I will give you a daughter's love. Archer. Heaven bless you, my daughter, for your steadfast cour- age and sweet love, I can see the beginning of our trials, but God alone can see the end. Rodna, we must leave our old home, leave it forever. There is no safety here for me. That fiend may. come at any moment, armed with a warrant for my arrest, and that would consign me to a felon's cell, and perhaps a scaffold. I have waited as long for Wallace as I dare, every moment spent here now in- creases my peril. I must fly, fly. I will endeavor to escape him once more, and if I fail may God pity you, my child. Rodna. Father, father, there comes Mr. Wallace. I was sure he would return. Cheer up, your last days will be your best ones. Enter Wallace, l. Wallace, (going to meet Archer) I am glad to see you again, Mr. Archer, and you too Miss Rodna. [shakes hands with both Rodna. We were beginning to despair of your return, had almost concluded you had deserted us. Wallace. I met with some perplexing difficulties which detained me, but here I am at last. Archer. What have you found ? What have you done for me ? ^ell all — all — do not fear, I can bear sorrow — disappointment — any- thing better than this suspense. Wallace, (aside) Joy will not kill, (aloud) Mr. Archer, you are vindicated, your innocence is proved. Rodna. Oh, joy, joy ! Archer. No— no — it cannot be — it cannot be — do not torture me; tell me the truth — you do not mean it? i Wallace. I say again you are vindicated. I have the proof. Your wife lives. Archer, (comes to c. hands and eyes uplifted) She lives, she lives I (kneels ) Oh, God I thank thee. Let me die— let me die. (falls in swoon. Rodna and Wallace, assist him to a seat, he quickly regains consciousness) Is this a dream? Am I cursed with another delusion?. Or am I dead and is this heaven ? Rodna. No father, you are not dead, nor is this a delusion. It is the blessed truth — you are free, free. So calm yourself and let us listen to our deliverer's story. Archer. Yes, yes, tell us about it — tell us all. Wallace. You know, Mr. Archer, I had positive proof of the financial fraud perpetrated upon you. And when I returned to the city after hearing your sad story— or & part of it— I determined to get at the truth or falsity of Brandon's story regarding the death of your wife. I patiently searched the record of burial permits, but could find no evidence of her death and burial. I then commenced a careful examination of court records for a series of years ; and found that some ten years ago Job Brandon was appointed guardian AFTER TEN YEARS*, OR, THE MANIAC WIFE. 27 Of Mrs. Edna Archer; who was then adjudged insane and commit- ted to the State asylum. The records of that institution showed she had been discharged from there one year after admission. Then for a time I lost trace of her, hut at Last discovered she had been im- prisoned in a private mad-house since her discharge from the State institution, until a short time ago she managed to make her escape, and has not been heard of since. Such in brief is the history of my doings since I left you. 1 have placed detectives on Mrs. Archer's track and will leave nothing undone to discover her whereabouts. ' Bodna. Oh! she must be found. I must clasp her in my arms — kiss her dear lips — and beg her to forgive -my dear, kind, loving father. Archer. That, Roclna, she can never do. But if I could see her, and ask her forgiveness, I could then die content* Wallace* I also found another chapter in Brandon's villainies. I found his lawful wife confined in the same mad-house from which Mrs. Archer made her escape. I took measures to obtain her relief and at the proper time will bring them face to face. Bodna. Where is she, I would so much like to see her? Wallace. She is at the village in care of my friend Dobbs. Ah! here comes a visitor, and I think ic is the Irishman who came here with Brandon a few weeks ago. Yes, I am sure 'tis he. Enter Booney, l. Roomy, (bowing and doffing his cap) The top o' the mornm* to yez all. It's a line day I'll be thinkin'. Archer. Yes, the weather is very nice to-day. What can I do for you ? Booney. Oh, nuthin' at all, at all, only I kim down to tell yez it wor a big mistake meself an' Mishter Slick made whin we kim down here wid that dirty blackguard Brandon. Archer. Yes, I think it was. Booney. An' I want to tell yez that the spalpane is a pianniiv more mischief fur yez here. Archer, We have expected that, and we are now ready to defy him. Booney. Good fer yez. Oi'l go back to the village an' tell me partner to drive ahead, fur everything is ready on this end of the line. Archer. I don't get your meaning clearly, Mr. Mr— — Booney. Rooney — Patrick Rooney, at yer service. (boics Archer. Well, Mr. Rooney, you seem to have taken a great in- terest in our aftairs lately. May I ask the reason? Booney. Sartinly, sartinly, Mishter Archer, an' oi'l tell ye the blissed truth so I will. Ye see, man, me partner Mishter Slick, who is a first-class travelin' dry goods emporium, went into a partnership wid Mishter Brandon to find out any little quare things that might happen about this place, an' the night we kim down here we found we'd sold out mighty chape to one o' the divil's own imps, an' so we broke up the contract an' kim over ter yer side. Archer. See here, my man, when yon go back to the village you may tell Mr. Brandon we are expecting a call from him. Tell him to come as soon as he likes, we are ready to revive him. 28 AFTER TEN YEARS ; OR, THE MANIAC WIFE. Roomy. All right, oi'l tell him sure if oi kin clap me two eyei onto him. So good luck an' good day to yez all. (exit Rooney, l., bowing Wallace. If this fellow is one of Brandon's creatures he will not take a very nattering report to his master. Well, I must go to the village and make some arrangements for removing you from this place. You must be placed in possession of your own again. Rodna. You will not be gone long I hope ? Wallace. Only long enough to transact the necessary business. Archer. Return as quickly as you can, my dear boy, we feel the need of your good counsel. Wallace. I will hasten. {exit, l. Archer. A noble youth, Rodna, a noble youth. Rodna. Let us go into the house, father. {exit, Rodna and Archer, l, SCENE FOURTH. — Apartment in 2nd grooves. Jonathan Dobbs and Hezekiah Slick enter r. Slick. I've hern, Mr. Dobbs, thet you've bin a travelin' around purty considerable lately? Dobbs. Wall, ya'as, I hev' been gittin' 'round right smart lately, Mr. Slick. Slick. Seen a purty chunk o' kentry, I reckon, Mr. Dobbs? Dobbs. Ya'as, a right good chunk, that's so. Slick. Did ye travel very fer, Mr. Dobbs? Dobbs. Ya'as, a right smart piece. Slick. Did ye travel east or west, Mr. Dobbs? Dobbs. Wa'al I disremember exzactly, but I'm kinder of the opin- ion I went rpiite a strip both ways. Slick. I reckon ye must a made a purty good pile o' chink? Dobbs. I might have made more, an' then agin I might hev' made a darned sight less. Slick. Jes' so, jes' so, that's about what I calkerlated on. Was ye doin' bizness fer yerself, Mr. Dobbs ? Dobbs. See here, Slick, ef anybody axes ye about that tell 'em ye don't know a blamed thing about it, will ye? Slick. Sartinly, sartinly, Mr. Dobbs. 1 hope thars no offense? Dobbs. Not aivy, Mr. Slick, only I don't like yer cussed wooden nutmeg inquisitiveness, that's all. Slick: Oh, sartinly, sartinly, Mr. Dobbs. I kinder thought as how we might git up a sort o' mutual benefit society or suthin' ; cause ye see I kinder thought as how I might know suthin' that ye don't know, but would kinder like to know. That's all, Mr. Dobbs; that's all. r Dobbs. I'd like ter know what you know about the" business I've been away on g Slicks Yas, I thought as how he might like to know. Dobbs. Now see here, Slick, ef you know anything about this 'ere bizness I want you to tell me What it is. Slick. Law! you don't say. Dobbs. Ya'as, I do say an' mean it too. Slick. Why, really I believe yer gettin' out o* sorts, Mr. Dobbs? Dobbs. Ya'as I air a gittin' out o' sorts, an' I want ye to know I am all wool an' a yard wide. Slick. Pshaw! ye don't say? I've heard my old father say timo AFTER TEN YEARS; OR, THE MANIAC WIFE!. 29 an' agin, that ye could lead a hoss to water but ye couldn't make him drink if he didn't want to; an' the old man knew purty con- siderable, I calkerlate. # I Dobbs. I see ye won't tell what ye know, an' I've a good mind to thump ye iest for luck. Slick. I wouldn't do it, Mr. Dobbs, I wouldn't really. I'm dread- fully afraid it would give ye a pain in yer stomach or somewhere. Though ef your agoin' to do it, now is the accepted time ye know. Dobbs. Would ye fight an' no mistake? Slick. I'm kinder of the opinion I would. Ef ye have any doubts about it ye'd better try it on, so as ye'll be perfectly satisfied. Dobbs. I won't touch ye now, Slick; but I want to tell ye one tlqng, any man what is ketched with that sneakin' cuss, Brandon - or to be pounded within an inch of his life. Slick. See here, Mr. Dobbs, ef that's what you've got agin me 1 wouldn't mind bein' kicked a few times, more or less; for that war the meanest thing I ever got into. Dobbs. Why ye don't mean to say ye've quit him, do ye? Slick. Yes [ do. Arter that raid on the old house that night we dissolved mightly suddint, an' I'm doin' what I kin to head the var- mint off. Dobbs. Give us yer hand. I don't care ef ye do sell bass-wood hams and wooden nutmegs, thar's a heap o' man in ye anyhow. Slick. Ye see thar's a couple o' wimmen here that that cuss has Deen a persecutin' for a good spell, an' they're skeered almost to death ; an' I told 'em I'd see 'em through safe and sound, an' by hokey I'm agoin' to it. Dobbs. That's right, that's right. An' ef ye need any help wink at me an I'll be thar in a hurry. Slick. Wa'al, now as we've come to an understandin' let's go an' liquidate. Dobbs. No, I can't do it; I can't leave the house for awhile, I ex- pect my boss here any minute. Slick. Oh! oi see j^e've got a scheme of yer own. Enter Mrs. Brandon, l., wildly. —Hello! what's this? Mrs Bran. I have seen him — he passed the house but a moment ago . He is the same smooth smiling villain. How I hate him. (to Dobbs, who attempts to restrain her) Unhand me ! Let me go ! Have I but changed keepers ? Am I to be forever denied my revenge ? No, no, away, away; I will not be restrained. Enter Wallace, r., hurriedly advances to her. — You are my saviour, (kneels) Save me. Oh ! do not let them put those cruel irons on me again. ( starts up) See, see; where they cut into* my flesh, (holds' out her hands) You will not— oh ! you Will not let them take me. (pointing to Dobbs and Slick) There they are — keep them back. Wallace. Calm yourself, Mrs. Brandon, you are among friends who will protect you. These men are your friends. Mrs Bran. Oh! I saw him — saw him pass the house; and the sight of him blasted my brain, I again felt his cruel hands upon me, heard again my horrid doom, hissed in my ears, again saw the barred windows of my prison. 30 AFTER TEN YEARS ; OR, THE MANIAC WIFE. Wallace. I entreat you to be calm. You will do yourself and your cause great injury. I promise again you shall meet him face to face, and without fear of violence. Therefore, I beg of you to quiet this agitation. Mrs Bran. You ask me to be quiet and to be calm, when that man is near? Do yon think I am composed of watery elements that I can be an iceberg in the presence of my foe? No, no, the fires of hell pour through my veins instead of blood ; my soul is torn with whirlwinds of hate; my hate is a resistless torrent beyond human control. Hear me — hear me all. While that man lives I will think of nothing but revenge; i will know no pity — no remorse; I will summon to my aid the infernal powers; I will know no rest, no peace, until my vengeance is accomplished. Wallace. Mrs. Brandon you will defeat your own purposes if you do not control yourself. Mrs Bran. I am calmer now. My reason is again master, so pray do tell me what you have accomplished. Wallace. Everything I desired. The net is slowly but surely drawing about him. He cannot escape. Enter Mrs, Archer and Emily , L., unobserved. — I have prepared my friends for removal, and as soon as a few pre- liminaries can be settled we will be ready to face the villain with his crimes. The plot was a deep one, but all the ends of the tangled skein are gathered up — but one, and this one I hope will soon be in my possession. As soon as I can restore Randolph Archer's wife to him my work will be accomplished. Mrs A. (comes forward) Randolph Archer? Heaven be praised ! I shall see him once more. Enter liooney, r. Slick. I vum this beats anything. Mrs Bran, (to Mrs. Archer) And who are you? Mrs A. I am Randolph Archer's wife. Wallace. Another victim of Job Brandon's villainies. Booney. (aside) There musht be shmoke in my the room. (wipes his eyes Slick. Ya'as, I think there is. (wipes his eyes Mrs Bran. The end is approaching. " Vengeance is mine, and I will repay," saith the Lord. All. Amen. CURTAIN. ACT III. SCENE FIB ST.— The parlor of the Inn, door C. f., fire screen U C, back; sofa chairs, table, R. of c. Mrs. Archer and Wallace discov ered r. and l., seated. 3Irs A. You have heard my sad story, Mr. Wallace. You can judge of the suffering I have endured ; the only wonder is my rea- AFTER TEN YEARS ; OR, THE MANIAC WIFE, 31 son was not dethroned years ago, and I become a maniac like that poor creature in yonder room. Wallace. Her hot Italian nature could not endure the strain. J had hoped the change of scene might calm her frenzy, but fear it will not. In her present condition I dare not let her meet Brandon; if she should meet him now the end would he a tragedy. Mi* A. I had almost said 'twould be a fitting termination to his career of crime. I will not think that it could be so horrible. Are you sure my husband will come? Oh! how I long to see his dear face, hear his loved voice, and feel the clasp of his protecting arms. And yet there, is a dread. I must see him unobserved, or in. the first transports of this meeting I would die of joy. Wallace. Your husband will be here presently, so calm yourself as much as possible. Mrs A. I will, I will. .And my daughter — our daughter, tell me what is she like? Is she beautiful — is she good? Wallace. She is both beautiful and good, Mrs. Archer. I never saw her equal. Mrs A. You are quite enthusiastic, Mr. "Wallace. Wallace. Mrs. Archer, I love your daughter and she returns my love. I had not thought to say this to you now, but my great love for her impels me to speak. May I hope when your troubles are all past you will give your consent to our marriage. I will furnish you satisfactory proof of my standing and parentage, and Mrs A. Hush, hush! If she loves you it would please me more than I can tell to see her your wife. Do not speak of birth or posi- tion, you are my daughter's equal, for you have all the essentials of true manhood. Wallace. Dear Mrs. Archer, you have made me very happy. Ah, they have come, 1 hear carriage wheels. Be calm, be calm, all will be well. Mrs A. I cannot — cannot control my feelings. Let me conceal myself behind yonder screen, and for a few moments see him unob- served. Oh ! I am almost overcome. Wallace assists her behind screen and places chair for her, returns to C- Enter from r., Bodna, Archer and Booney. Booney. Be the powers thin 'twas a moighty rough ride for yezf but here we are right side up. Bodna. Yes, thanks to your good management, we came through all right. Oh ! Mr. Wallace, I never knew what happiness meant until to-day. Where is my mother? Oh ! how I long to see her, to clasp her in my arms, kiss her dear face and look into her eyes, and see the love-light shining there. Booney. Wid yer lave oi'll be excused and look after the luggage. Wallace. We will excuse you, Rooney. If you see Slick any- where tell him to come here, will you? (exit Booney, r. Archer. Where is my dear Edna? I cannot control my feelings at the prospect of this meeting. How will she receive me? What will she say after all these years of cruel neglect— after the brutal blow I struck her? I can see her up-turned tear-stained, pleading face, as I saw it then. I can hear the sob of anguish as I raised my hand to deal that fiendish blow. I can see her quivering, in- sensible form stretched before me. Oh! it is too horrible —I cannot bear the thought. 32 AFTER TEN YEARS ; OR. THE MANIAC WIFE. Wallace. Calm yourself, Mr. Archer; I can assure you you have long since been forgiven. Bodna. Yes, father, do not allow these gloomy thoughts to dis- turb the joy and peace of this happy day. Do not live again the long sad years; let the dead past bury its dead, look to the dawning of the new life and rejoice. My life is so glad to-day. Oh ! father, there is a well-spring of perennial joy flowing into ray soul. Think of it, father, we are free ; free, all free — no more slavery, no more prisons, no more loneliness— all that is past. Come up out of your gloom — banish the night, and hail the new dawn, which will forevei dissipate .your sorrow. Archer. Rodna, your words thrill me again and again. Oh! if I dare to think that she, my Edna, could in "part forgive me the cruel wrong I did her; only in part — my joy would be as boundless as the universe. How gladly would I toil for her; yes, die for her, if by so doing I could bring her happiness. But, Rodna, when I think of thesuffering she has endured, of the horrors which surrounded her; when I think of her bright life darkened by my unjust, unreasoning suspicions; when I think of the cowardly cruel blow I struck her. I feel my sin is beyond pardon — I must see her, I must beg her for- giveness; I must know my fate. Rodna, Wallace, where is she? Where is she? • Mrs A. {coming forward) Here, Randolph, my husband. Archer, {kneels) Oh! Edna, wife, my love, can you forgive me? Mrs A. {raising him) Fully, freely, Randolph. We were both wrong, but we could not know how that cunning villain plotted for our ruin. Thank heaven his power is gone forever. Archer. Yes, thanks to our young friend here, to whom we owe all. And now, Edna, we will begin anew life. In the shadow of the old we will build better and stronger. But I forget, I am selfish in my new joy. Rodna, our daughter, waits to greet you. Mrs A. Come to me, Rodna; iet me hold you in my arms once more. A husband and a daughter. Oh ! if joy would kill I should surely die. Let me look at you. {holds her off) Yes, the promise of your childhood is fulfilled. I am satisfied. Bodna. Mother, dear, dear mother, how I have longed for this moment. The new life is begun. * Enter Slick, r., rubbing his hands and grinning. Slick. How d'ye do. How d'ye do. This beats anything I ever seed all holler. By jingo, it kinder makes my eyes water. {wipes eyes) Why, ye all look as happy as a bobolink in a medder. I hain't seen sich a good time sence I had the mumps. {wipes eyes Wallace. Mr. Slick did you see Brandon? SUcfi. See here now, don't mister me ; call me Hez., I ain't proud. And then again I feel like one of the family a'most. Wallace. All right. Ha, ha, ha!' Well, Hez., did you find Bran- don and succeed in inducing him to come here? Slick. Ya'as, he's a comin' soon, an' we'll hev' to watch the cuss or he'll be a doin' some mischief. Wallace. We will watch him, and if he attempts any violence arrest him at once. Archer. What will he do, Mr. Slick; excuse me, I meant Hez. Ha, ha! Slick. Wa'al, I can't jest make out what he means to do. But AFTER TEN YEARS*, OR, THE MANIAC WISE. 33 he's cussed mad, an' a swearin' vengeance agin somcbocty, an' the safest way will be to keep our eyes peeled for him, 1 allow. Mrs A. Oh! do not run any risks. Send for some officer and ar- rest him at once. Slick, See here ma'am, Hezckiah Slick Is officer enough to arre3t that sneakin' varmint, an' he wants the job too, purty considerable bad I reckon. Rodna. Do not talve any more risks for us, if harm should befall you we should feel directly responsible. Slick. Now, miss, don't .ve fret about me, I allers try to pay my debts, an' I'm thinkin' I owe that feller a good bit, an' I'm bound to pay it. Enter Rooney, R., flourishing a shillalah, — Hello, Paddy, what's been stirring ye i:p? Ve look flustered. Rooney, Howly St. Patrick, ye ought to have sane the skirmage I had wid that dirty spalpane of a Brandon ! Archer. With Brandon ! Did you have a light with Brandon? Rodna, Tell us about it. Wallace. Yes, Rooney, let us hear about it. Slick. Come, Paddy, limber yer jaw and give us the particulars. Rooney. Ye see I kim acrost him in the strate a bit ago, an' oi sez to him, sez I; " The top of the mornin' till yez, Mr. Brandon." An' divil a word did he say at all. An' thin oi sez, sez oi; "It's a foine day, Mr. Brandon." An' wid that he whurrls 'round an' sez he to me, sez he, " Go to the devil you infernal Irishman." An' thin oi sez to him, sez 01, " Oi'll not be callin' at yer house whin yer away." An' wid that he made fur me, swearin' he'd teach me manners. An' whin he kim in reach of me I tipped him one wid me stick an' that samed to satisfy him intirely. Slick. I say, Paddy, ye never done a better thing than that, an' ye never will. Enter Perkins^ c. Perkins. Mr. Brandon says he would like to see Mr. and Mrs Archer. Will you see him? Archer. Yes, show him in. (exit Perkins, c, bowing Mrs A. Oh ! how I dread this meeting, I wish it could be avoided, Rodna. Courage, mother, it will soon be over. Wallace. Do not fear, there is no danger, we will not leave you. Archer, I trust this interview will be the last cloud to cast a sha- dow upon our lives. Wallace. I- think you two — (indicating Slick and Rooney) — had better conceal yourselves just outside the room, so you may be ready at a moment's notice if you are wanted. I hope there will be 110 trouble but it is best to be prepared. Rooney. Oi'd like to git another chance at him. (exit Slick l., Rooney r., shaking club Archer, (to Mrs. Archer) Courage, love* Enter Brandon, c, coat dirty, waistcoat soiled; shows furious anger, Brandon. You sent for me, Randolph Archer. Do you wish to gloat over my defeat, to taunt me with your triumph? Archer. I sent for you, Job Brandon, to offer you what you have forfeited— life and liberty. 34 AFTER TEft YEARS J OR, THE MANIAC WIFE. Brandon. And you think you are now in a position to dictate terms to me? Poor fool! you know little of the intensity of my hatred if you suppose I would accept either life or liberty at your hands. Mrs A. Have you no contrition for what you have done — for the suffering you have caused ? Brandon. Contrition? No, I have no contrition, no regrets, only such as I feel at my failure to accomplish my revenge. Archer. Have you no fear of the future— no fear of outraged heaven ? Brandon. Fear of the future — fear of outraged heaven ? No— a thousand times no. Let woman and fools prate of God's anger— I fear it not. Let superstition and her hand-maid, ignorance, people the unknown with malignant devils and malignant Gods — what care I ! Think not to intimidate me with distorted fancies. No — 1 tell you if your heaven is a reality 1 Would stand at the great throne, in the presence of the Infinite, and ask for nothing but time to accom- plish your ruin. Archer, 1 beg of you stop and think. The proofs we hold Will consign you to a felon's Cell and perhaps a scaffold. I do not Wish to deprive you of life or liberty. Promise me you will seek a home in some distant country, and cease your persecutions of me and mine, and I will destroy the proofs of your guilt — you shall go free. Brandon. You ask me to make a promise? I will do it, Randolph Archer — I promise you and yours that while life remains my hate remains. I promise you to seek my revenge wherever you may be, if I can follow. I promise you nothing but death Or imprisonment mall stOp my pursuit of you. I promise you that come what may- liberty, a prison cell, or a scaffold, with my last breath I will hate and curse you. Mrs A, How can anything in human shape be so like a fiend? (shudders Brandon. You are the cause Of my hate — I loved you. You scorned me and chose him. * (points to Archer Enter Mrs. Bran Ion and Dobbs, l., he holding her arm. -^-Then my love turned to hate — boundless and unfathomable. Enter Slick x.., Booney n., cautiously. — Tthas increased with years until it is a consuming passion. 1 failed in my aim once, I will try again, (draws pistol, Slick and RoonCy disarm him— -he stands scowling with hate) Foiled again I Curse my ill luck. 3Irs Bran, (breaks from Dobbs and rushes wildly across stage and faces Brandon, who recoils; confronts him with arms upraised) I am here, Job Brandon ! Hear me ! Brandon, (recovering himtelf) Curse you, how came you here? Mrs Bran. Look at nie, Job Brandon ! Look at me! Look at your work ! I heard you but now speak of hate — do you hear — hate ! What is your hate compared with mine? Brandon, Leave me, leave me while you can. Why are you here? Mrs Bran. Why am I here? I am here for vengeance — ven- geance. • (Dobbs advances and' takes her by the arm — she shakes him off) Away, away, and give the whirlwind room. AFTER TEN YEARS ; OR, THE MANIAC WIFE. 35 Brandon. Take her away. I do not wish to kill her now. Mrs Bran. Take me away? Nq, no, not until your seared and blackened soul shall wake to consciousness. Not until you know the fury of a woman scorned. Not until my vengeance is complete. Wallace* Mrs. Brandon, I entreat you to he calm. 3Irs Bran. Talk not to me of calmness. You cannot stay the whirlwind's rush or stop the avalanche; nor can a word control the fury of storm-lashed ocean. There is no stop, no stay to my mad hate and fury. Brandon. What do you want, woman ? Mrs Bran. What do I want? I want your life. I want to see it •ebbing, ebbing drop by drop. I want to see the death-damp gather on your brow. I want to hiss into your dying ear the story of my wrongs and my revenge. Brandon. Go on with your senseless raving. I suppose your new friends enjoy it. Mrs Bran. Senseless raving? Job Brandon, you stand upon the brink of eternity. I have longed — prayed for this. The time of my triumph has come. Draws dagger and quickly sprinjs at Brandon and stabs him; he falls,, writhes, raises on elbow. Brandon. I hate, I hate (dies Mrs Bran. My wrongs avenged. My mission is accomplished. Come death, I ask no more. (stabs herself .falls and dies Archer. A life of hate and crime has ended in a tragedy. A just retribution. CURTAIN. RELATIVE POSITIONS, EXITS, &c. r., means Right; l., Left; r. h., Right Hand, l. h., Left Hand; c, Centre; s. R. or 2d e.,] Second Entrance; u. r., Upper Entrance; m.d., Middle Door; f., the Flat D. F., Door in Flat; r. c, Right of Centre; l. c, Left of Centre. r, r. c. c. l. rj. u %* The reader is supposed to be upon the Stage, facing the audience. Hints To Amateurs, By A. D. AMES. A book of useful information for Amateurs and others, written expressly for those who are giving public entertainments— and who wish to make their efforts suc- cessful — containing'much information never before given. Mr. Ames has had many years experience, and in this work gives many hints which cannot fail to be of great benefit to all. The following subjects are treated in a clear and concise manner: The effects of the drama on the mind— The dramatic club a means of charity— Use- ful hints — Necessity of a book of plain instructions — Formation of a dramatic company— Duties of the manager— Assigning parts— Duty of the prompter— Duty of the property man— Music for plays— Rehearsals— Hints— Best methods of studying— Stage laughs— Speaking loud— Articulation— How to be prompted— Getting the back to the audience— Making up— How to burn a colored fire— How to make fuses— To make a rain storm— To make thunder— To make lightning— To make a wind storm— Imitation of clouds— Imitation of waves— How to pro- duce a crash— How to produce snow— Success on the stage — A short history of the drama— Scene painting— The painter— Difficulties in scene painting— How to act — Macready's Method. Sent by mail, post-paid, on receipt of 15c per copy. COLORED TABLEAU LIGHTS.— For use in Tableaux and Illuminations, and to heighten the effect of stage scenes, especially in spectacular plays. As these lights contain no sulphur, they are not subject to spontaneous combustion, and burn with less smoke and odor than any other similar compounds. They emit an intense light, requiring no reflector. They are made in red and green only. We are putting up our Colored Fires in a box containing enough material for one light, with fuses ready for use for 25c by mail. Per one-half pound, $1.00. Per pound (by express), 81.50. Per pound (by mail) $1.75. MAGNESIUM TABLEAU LIGHTS.— Are first-class for the following reasons: They do not smoke; are always ready; they will not explode; they are easily ignited: are wonderfully brilliant, burning with an intensity of 74 stearine candles; are per- fectly safe under all circumstances. They can easily and safely be sent to any part of theUnited States. One of these magnesium lights will be amply sufficient for two tableaux, unless they are unusually long. We will send them by mail for twenty- five cents each, and prepay all charges. LIGHTNING FOR PRIVATE THEATRICALS. -Very many dramas containing storms, which unless given in an artistic manner are more laughable than otherwise. To make them successful good lightning is essential. We will send a package of material for this purpose, with full printed directions for its use, to any address, for 50 cepts. The effect produced by it will be found all that can be desired. WTLKINS'* AMATEUR DRAMAS— Designed expressly for the use of Schools; Amateur Dramatic and Church entertainments. This volume contains the follow- ing plays: Rock Allen the Orphan, or Lost and Found; Three Glasses a Day, or the Broken Home; Mother's Fool; The Reward of Crime, or the Love of Gold; The Coming Man; The Turn of the Tide, or Wrecked in Port; Hash. Neatly bound in cloth, price 75 cents. SPIRIT POWDER— For fastening whiskers or mustache to the face. Will ad- here very strongly in the hottest weather. Price per package 25 cents. HAPPY FRANK'S COMIC SONG AND JOKE BOOK.-Contains a choice col- lection of original songs, jokes, conundrums, stump speeches, etc. In addition to the above, it also contains one complete Dutch sketch, one Ethiopean farce, and a Negro sketch, all of which have never been published. Price 15 per copy. Wcw Music— Every Piece a Gem. MY NAME VAS HEINRICH HANS.— A roaring Dutch song, words by W. H. Spangler, jr., music by F. 0. Wilson. A great success and pronouueed by both press and public the greatest hit of many years, Price 30 cents. DERE VAS EIN LEEDLE DEITCHER GAL.— A capital Dutch song for male voices, words by W. H. Spangler, jr., music by F. 0. Wilson, Can be used as a solo, or as a solo and chorus. Price 30 cents. A HEALTH TO OUR HOSTESS— A male quartette, words by W. H. Spangler jr., words by F. 0. Wilson. It is sure to please all who purchase it. Price 30 cents. /" Ames' Plays— Continued. -o- NO. 83 53 57 29 114 18 134 165 .156 51 110 45 96 171 59 48 107 133 138 115 55 94 25 79 92 10 137 62 64 40 38 87 131 144 101 M. P. Out on the World 5 4 Out ira the Streets 6 4 Paddy Miles' Boy 5 2 Painter of Ghent 5 2 Passions 8 4 Poacher's Doom 8 3 Pomp's Pranks 2 Persecuted Dutchman 6 3 Quiet Family 4 4 Rescued.... 5 3 Reverses 12 6 Rock Allen 5 3 Rooms to Let .... 2 1 Rough Diamond ....... 6 3 Saved 2 3 Schnaps . 1 1 School 5 Seeing Bosting 3 Sewing Circle of Period.. 5 S. H. A. M. Pinafore.. 5 3 Somebody's Nobody 3 2 16,000 Years Ago 3 Sport with a Sportsman... 2 Spy of Atlanta, 25c. v 14 3 Stage Struck Darkey 2 1 Stocks Up, Stocks Down.. 2 Taking the Census 1 ] Ten Nights in Bar-Room 7 3 That Boy Sam 3 1 That Mysterious B'dle ... 2 2 The Bewitched Closet 5 2 The Biter Bit .. 5 2 The Cigarette 4 2 Thekla ... 6 7 The Coming Man 3 1 NO. M. F. 67 The Fake Friend 6 1 97 The Fatal Blow 7 1 119 The Forty-Niners 10 4 167 Turn Him Out 3 3 93 The Gentleman in Black 9 4 112 The New Magdalen 8 3 IIS The Popcorn Man 3 71 The Reward of Crime 5 16 The Serf 6 68 The Sham Professor 4 6 The Studio 3 102 Turn of the Tide 7 54 The Two T. J's 4 7 The Vow of the Ornani .. 8 28 Thirty-three nxtBrithd'y 4 108 Those Awful Boys 5 63 Three Glasses a Day 4 105 Through Suow and Sun- shine 6 Tit for Tat 2 Twain's Dodgiug 3 Wanted a Husband 2 142 4 151 5 121 56 41 70 When Women Weep 3 Will-o'-the-Wisp 9 Wooing Under Difficulties 4 Won at Last 7 Which will he Marry 2 135 Widower's Trials 5 58 Wrecked 9 147 Waking Him Up 1 155 Why they Joined the Re- beccas 156 Wig-Maker and His Ser- vants ... 3 111 Yankee Duelist 2 157 Yankee Peddler 7 Wilkins 9 Amateur Dramas. Designed for the use of schools, amateur entertainments, etc. This volunid contains the following plays: Rock Allen the Orphan, or Lost and Found ; Three Glasses a Day, or the Broken Home; Mother's Fool ; The. Reward of Crime, or the Love of Gold; The Coming Man ; The Turn of the Tide, or Wrecked in Port; Hash. Neatly bound in cloth, price 75 cents. ^0" j»Ieas<» lteiiieiuber that we can fill your orders for any play, dialogue book, speaker, guide book, piece of music, or anything in the line of amateur supplies such as wigs, beards, mustaches, face powders, paints, colored fires, lightning — in a word, anything you find yourself in need of. We shall be ready to answer your letters of inquiry at any time, and invite correspondence. In remitting please send a postal note, or a money order, where they can be qjpned, or small amounts may be sent in one or two cent postage star. Address A. D. AMES, Pub., ClyM E VERY _Ai| LIBRARY OF CONGRESS WANTS A ; 016 103 689 4 And Should Order it at Once!! HINTS TO AMATEURS BY A. D. AMES. A book of useful information for Amateurs and others, written expressly for those who are giving public entertainments — md who wish to make their efforl ul— containing much information never before given. Mr. Ames has had many years experience, and in this work gives many hints which cannot fail to be of great bene- fit to all. )o you w Jo you w you w >o you w Oil w I)o you w I >o you av Dip you av Do you w I)) you w Do yon w I )o you w i >o you AA I »o you v. I >o you ay 1 )o you w : if. yOll AV .on w on aa Do \ oil a\ Do \ on w HI AY ill AV i 1)1. 'Do Do \ Ify. -ciii yo.i A; ish to know How to act? isli to know How to make up? ish to know How to make fuses? ish to know How to be prompted? ish to know How to imitate clouds? ish to know How to imitate waves? isli to know How to make thunden? ish to know How to produce snow? ish to know How to articulate V ish to know How to. make lightning? ish to know How to produce a crash? ish to know How to make a wind-storm '? ish to know How to be successful on the stage? ish to know 'The effects of the drama on the mind'? ish to know How to assign parts successfully? ish to know The duties of the property man ? ish to know How to arrange music for plays? isli to know Many hints about the stage? ish to know How to form a dramatic club? . ish to know The duties of a manager? ish to know The duty of t ho prompter? ish to know How to conduct rehearsals? • know Th<' best method of studyii . ish to know How to make a stage laugh ? ish to know How to burn a colored lire? isli to know How to make a rain storm V ish to know A short history of the drama; ish to know All about scene painting? ish to know Maer.eady's method of actin vish to know the above, read Hints to A r 15 cents per copy by Addres'si I h A. D. Lock Box 102. AMES PuVr., vde, Ohio.