^he L^aptaLn s Ward 
 
 SJjrama 
 
 Y 
 
 in K:/'our 
 ■yicts 
 
 
 JOHN SP ENCER, 
 
 F>niNTER ANO SOOH BINDER. 
 
 CHESTER. P*. 
 
THE CAPTAIN'S WARB 
 
 ^ 
 
 Jl Drama in Four Jlcts 
 
 1 > > ] 
 
 .■'.,•^iM^,'■';'^;;.''■ '•:■ 
 
 BY 
 
 GRAHAM ASHMEAD 
 
1 
 
 Mn 
 
 THE LIBRARY OF 
 
 CONGRESS, 
 T'«o CopitM Received 
 
 ?F'-^ 2: 1902 
 
 A OnOVRIOHT FNTPV 
 
 tii.Asg/5 xXo No. 
 COPY B. '■ 
 
 COPYRIGHT. 1902 
 
 BY 
 
 HENRY GRAHAM ASHMEAD. 
 
 JOHN SPENCER. 
 NTER AND BOOKBINDER, 
 CHESTER. PA. 
 
sDramatis J. e 
 
 rsoncjs. 
 
 Bessie Harrington, 
 Ada Murray, 
 Hannah Pennington. 
 Captain Paul Graham, 
 James Brownley. 
 Thomas Singleton, 
 Doctor Wright, 
 Sergeant Gray, 
 James, 
 
 Filipino Assassin. 
 Filipino Servant. 
 
 , Captain Graham's Ward. 
 
 - '^ A lady with a fortune^ 
 
 Craliain'x Sj^iiistcr Aunt. 
 
 Guardian for Bessie. 
 
 Graham's Private Secretary. 
 
 Clerk in Graham &• Co.'s Banking House. 
 
 Surgeon U. S. Army. 
 
 Of the Ninth U. S. Infantry. 
 
 Butler at Graham's House. 
 
ACT I. 
 
 [Scene.— i?oo>H of Paul Graham, U. S. A., luxuriously funtishcd. 
 Door at back and at right, which, with the windozvs. arc handsomely 
 draped. Fire in grate. James Brownley and Thomas Singleton dis- 
 cot'ercd.] 
 
 Brownley. Tom, the young Lieutenant is going it at a hand 
 canter. He's in for a good time and lots of fun. 
 
 iSiNGLETON. If I had had a grandfather drop off leaving me four 
 millions well invested, I'd go in for a good time, too. But say, I never 
 heard that Paul was "sucking the monkey," as the sailors say. 
 
 Brownley. If you mean boozing, the Lieutenant has no inclina- 
 tion that way. He's quick enough to take a hand in any sport and 
 pastime, but he detests drunkenness and gambling. He is an honor- 
 able, manly, straightforward young fellow. You see his mother lived 
 until he was almost sixteen. He idolized her. Her teachings had 
 much to do in forming his moral character. 
 
 Singleton. Then he is not throwing his money recklessly away. 
 Is he inclined to yield to designing women's fascinations? 
 
 Brownley. I think not. He is liberal with his money. He seerns 
 to have no particular fancy for any lady of his acquaintance. No, his 
 expenditures are well within his income. 
 
 Singleton. Is he forming questionable associations? You would 
 best know that. In the bank, we hear very little about him, excepting 
 his account there. 
 
 Brownley. No. He is a good-intentioned chap, and considering 
 the temptations that assail a young man of great wealth, his life is ex- 
 ceedingly clean. The only thing that alarms me is his heedlessness in 
 assuming responsibilities. 
 
 Singleton. I do not fully comprehend you. 
 
 Brownley. Why, he is now only a boy of twenty-four. During 
 the Spanish war, you remember, he met a Captain in the Volunteer U. 
 S. Cavalry — the Rough Riders — who was wounded in the assault on 
 San Juan hill, and died shortly after the surrender of Santiago. The 
 Lieutenant was then a Captain in the 71st New York, and when the 
 Rough Rider Captain died, he made Captain Paul the guardian of his 
 little daughter. The boy accepted the trust. He has never seen the 
 child. She is at school at Hartford. The estate is worth about 80,000 
 dollars. Paul advances all the money that she may ask, through the 
 principal of the school, for the maintenance and education of the girl. 
 Sometimes the requests are for large sums, far beyond what, I think, 
 is needed under the circumstances. 
 
6 THE CAPTAIN'S WARD. 
 
 Singleton. Do you think there is a leak at the other end? 
 
 Brovvnley. I am inclined to think so. After the war, Paul, who 
 is infatuated w'ith the life of a soldier, sought and secured a first lieu- 
 tenancy in the regular army. That, in a measure, has prevented him 
 from making a visit to his ward, as he should have done. Children 
 feel slights as keenly as adults. 
 
 Singleton. I did hear something of his accepting the guardian- 
 ship of a small girl, but learned little beyond that fact. As I said, we 
 seldom hear of the Lieutenant's personal affairs in the office. You, 
 who are his private secretary, necessarily know much more than any 
 of us, who are employed at the banking house. 
 
 Brovvnley. I am not disclosing any of his personal affairs in 
 what I have said. I merely suggested that a wealthy young man, an 
 army officer at that, might possibly later find it burdensome and costly 
 to accept the guardiansliip of a child, of whom he knows nothing, and 
 who is wholly without known relatives. 
 
 Paul Graham. (Sfcaking to persons zvithout.) I will he with 
 vou gentlemen, presently. (Enters.) Oh, Singleton, you are here. 
 Is there anything respecting which you must see me on business of the 
 bank? 
 
 Singleton. Nothing of importance. A telegram was received 
 there for you just before closing, which should have been sent here. 
 I was through work, and was going out on my bike, so I offered to 
 bring it to you. Here it is. (Hands telegram.) 
 
 Paul. Thanks. Brownley, I was talking of my ward to several 
 ladies to-day, and when I told them I had never seen her, they de- 
 clared I was remiss in my duty — that the little girl might feel that I 
 had neglected her. I never thought of that. One of the ladies, as a 
 peace offering, bought for me a half dozen pretty dolls and an assort- 
 ment of toys. As I am on waiting orders now, I propose to run over 
 to Hartford to-morrow and make her little ladyship's acquaintance. 
 Make no engagements for me for several days. (Open's telegram.) 
 By George, here's a go ! This is a message from Madame Delaplaine, 
 stating that Bessie has left the school and her present whereabouts are 
 unknown. Can you suggest anything I should do under these circum- 
 stances ? 
 
 Brownley. If you can avoid your engagement with the gentle- 
 men who await you in the library, I would see Mr. Drake at once, and 
 ask his opinion. He is a warm friend of yours as well as your legal 
 adviser. 
 
 Paul. That's a capital suggestion. I will act on it at once. 
 (Looks at ivateh.) Our telephone is out of order. I noticed that a 
 moment ago. Singleton, you have your wheel — will you oblige me by 
 taking a spin to Drake's office and asking him to remain until I call 
 there? 
 
 Singleton. Gladly, sir. I will go at once. (Exit.) 
 
 Paul. This matter rather interferes with my plans. The child 
 cannot have run far afield. The anger of a mere tot like Bessie is will 
 soon expend itself, and she will be only too glad to return home. The 
 telegram states that if any news of the girl is received it will be prompt- 
 ly wired. I will hurry down to Drake's office and be back presently. 
 (Exit.) 
 
 Brownley. This may be more serious than it at first appears. 
 The little girl has a snug fortune of 80.000 dollars in her own right. 
 (Looks out of window.) The Lieutenant is off. At all events, it may 
 tc.-ich him a lesson, which may be fortunate in that it comes through a 
 child rather than through a girl of more mature years. Possibly the 
 
THE CAPTAIN'S WARD. 7 
 
 little one is safe at school by this time, although it might be that she 
 has been kidnapped to exact a large ransom. (Enter butler.) 
 
 Butler. There is a young lady downstairs to see the Master. She 
 would not give her name, but said she would — (Enter Bessie Harring- 
 ton.) 
 
 Bessie. Wait the return of her guardian. (To Brownley) Are 
 you Lieutenant Grahain, my guardian? 
 
 Brownlev. No. I am his private secretary. You are — 
 
 Bessie. Bessie Harrington, Mr. Graham's ward. I have made no 
 mistake, I trust — Lieutenant Graham lives here? 
 
 Brownley. Yes. (To butler.) James, when the Lieutenant re- 
 turns tell him a lady is waiting to see him in his den. You need not 
 mention her name. (E.rit butler.) 
 
 Bessie. Oh, dear, how dreadfully unfortunate it is that he is ab- 
 sent. I suppose I can remain in this apartment until his return? I 
 sent away the carriage and my trunk will be here presently. Please 
 pay the e.xpress charge. After I paid the hackman, I lost my pocket- 
 book. It must have fallen into the street, for I looked for it every- 
 where in the hack without success. The loss is not much. I had only 
 four dollars and .some change in the pocketbook. 
 
 Brownley. I will see to the trunk. You would know the Lieu- 
 tenant if you saw him ? 
 
 Bessie. No. I suppose he is a middle aged gentleman. The 
 guardians for the girls at our school were middle aged or old men. All 
 guardians are that, I believe? 
 
 Brownley. Not always. 
 
 Bessie. I do wish he were here now, although I dread to see him. 
 I could not stay at Madame Delaplaine's any longer. I bribed one of 
 the maids, who had a young man waiting on her, to get my trunk out 
 of the house and e.xpress it here. Then I ran away this morning. I 
 haven't had a bite to eat since breakfast, and I was then so excited that 
 I had no appetite. I ain faint for lack of food. 
 
 Brownley. I can promptly remedy that. I will have luncheon 
 sent to you immediately. In the meanwhile, make yourself perfectly at 
 home. Your guardian will be here present^'. (Exit.) 
 
 Bessie. (Removing her zvraps and hat.) Well, I'm here, and as 
 tired as I can well be. Hungry ! I think I never was so near starva- 
 tion in all my life. (Yaivns.) When a little tot, I remember I once 
 told poor Dad that I was tired, hungry, and sleepy, the three "worstest" 
 things in the world. How dear Dad laughed. (Dra'vs lounging ehair 
 in front of fireplace and scats herself.) Poor Daddy. I have never 
 missed you so much as I do to-day. I don't know my guardian from 
 Adam. Why, I didn't know Adam. I suppose he is a grumpy, dis- 
 agreeable old man, and being an army officer, doubtless something of 
 a martinet, who will direct all my actions by some miserable old code 
 of military tactics. But I will never go back to school. If he makes 
 my life unbearable, I'll drown myself. (Enter butler ivith luncheon.) 
 Place the little table beside me. I'll eat luncheon here. Has Mr. Gra- 
 ham returned ? 
 
 Butler. No, Miss. 
 
 Bessie. I'm his ward, Miss Bessie Harrington. I have never 
 seen hiin. Tell me something about him. 
 
 Butler. Mr. Graham is a fine gentleman. 
 
 Bessie. Has he any daughters about my age ? 
 
 Butler. Well, I don't know, Miss. I think noV Lieutenant 
 Graham is not married. 
 
 Bessie. An old bachelor, then? 
 
8 THE CAPTAIN'S WARD. 
 
 Butler. I suppose so. Miss. 
 
 Bessie. I am glad you said that he was a fine gentleman. He has 
 tasteful and sumptuous surroundings. 
 
 Butler. Yes, Miss. 
 
 Bessie. While I am eating, tell me something about him, without 
 my questioning you as a lawyer does a witness. 
 
 Butler. I don't know what to tell you. Miss. He has his horses, 
 his country seat, his yacht, but since he entered the regular army, he 
 has offered the Sylph" for sale. He has everything that will make a 
 single gentleman comfortable. 
 
 Bessie. Is he a woman hater? 
 
 Butler. I don't know. Miss. I don't know what a woman hater 
 is. I know that Lieutenant Paul Graham is a gentleman that every- 
 body likes. 
 
 Bessie. Does he growl and swear when things don't go just as he 
 wants them to? 
 
 Butler. No, Miss. He is easy enough to get along with. 
 
 Bessie. Well, that is good news, at all events. I will not detain 
 you longer. Please tell Mr. Graham that I am here as soon as he re- 
 turns. 
 
 Butler. Yes, Miss. (Goes ufi stage.) I haven't been put 
 through such a cross-examination since — oh, I can't remember how 
 long ago. (Exit.) 
 
 Bessie. (Sttnggling herself in ehair. and pntting her crossed feet 
 on fender.) Oh, t just feel too sleepy for anything. I'll sit here be- 
 fore this fire for a little while, and — take — things — comfortable. My 
 eyelids — are too heavy — for — (falls aslcef<.) (Enter Graham at right 
 door. ) 
 
 Paul. Doubtless Drake is a sound lawyer, but it seems to me he 
 took about twenty minutes to advise me to do nothing, to let things 
 drift, as it were. He will charg* for his opinion, but I'll be d — d if I'll 
 follow his suggestions. Something must be done — (Sees Bessie's hat.) 
 Well, I'd just give five dollars to see Aunt Hannah in that rig. An 
 old woman of nearlv sixty in an outfit like that would be a perfect guy. 
 But Aunt Hannah is a good, sweet old lady. She thinks there never 
 was my like born. She pets me as if I were still a child. I shall never 
 grow to full manhood in her eyes. (IJ'histles.) There is someone in 
 that chair. (Goes to center door and beckons. Enter butler.) Whose 
 things are these? (Points to Bessie's hat and wrafs.) 
 
 Butler. The young lady's, sir. The young lady in the chair be- 
 fore the grate. 
 
 Paul. The what? What do you mean? A young lady in my 
 den? What are you talking about? What young lady? 
 
 Butler. The young lady over there, sir. She said her name was 
 Miss Bessie — Miss Bessie — I forget the rest of the name, but she is your 
 ward. 
 
 Paul. You don't say that? My ward is a little girl, who, I fancy, 
 wears her hair in a pigtail and is clothed in very abbreviated dresses. 
 Why, I've half dozen dolls and a lot of toys in the house now, bundled 
 un to take to her to-morrow. You haven't been drinking, James? 
 
 Butler. No, sir. I have only told you what she said. The young 
 lady in the chair declared she was tired, hungry and sleepy. I served 
 her luncheon, but she's gone to sleep, I think, without any assistance. 
 
 Paul. How do you know she is asleep? 
 
 Butler. If she wasn't asleep, you'd know, sir. She asked me 
 more questions in five minutes than any attorney could ask in a quarter 
 of an hour. 
 
THE CAPTAIN'S WARD. g 
 
 Paul. James, order the carriage to the stable. I'll not start for 
 Hartford just yet, as I had designed to do. (Exit butler.) If it is 
 that girl, I'll give her a piece of my mind. This must be one of her 
 schoolmates, much older than Bessie, who has come to tell me news 
 of her. I wonder how she got in my den? (Walks on tip toes around 
 in front of Bessie.) By George! She's a pretty minx, anyway. There 
 is surely some mistake. This sleeping beauty in the chair is eighteen. 
 Captain Harrington always spoke of his daughter as his little girl — 
 as a mere child. (Bessie stirs.) Good gracious! Why — (Bessie 
 opens Iter eyes, looks at Graham, and sits up.) 
 
 Bessie. Wnere am — oh, I know where I am. I suppose I must 
 introduce myself. I am Miss Bessie Harrington. I came to see my 
 guardian on important business. I'm Lieutenant Paul Graham's ward. 
 (About to rise.) 
 
 Paul. Please remain seated. You are sure you have not made 
 a mistake ? 
 
 Bessie. What mistake could I make? Isn't this Mr. Graham's 
 house? 
 
 Paul. Yes, it's his house all right. But I never heard that Cap- 
 tain Harrington had two daughters — both named Bessie- 
 
 Bessie. He never had but one daughter — but one child. I don't 
 know what you mean? 
 
 Paul. Mr. Graham is the guardian of a Bessie Harrington. Her 
 father always spoke of her as a little girl. You are not that Bessie 
 Harrington? 
 
 Bessie. (Risin-g.) I am the daughter and only child of Captain 
 Edward Harrington, of the Rough Riders, who was wounded in the 
 storming of San Juan hill, and who died of his injuries at Santiago. 
 His will made Captain Paul Graham, of the 71st New York Infantry, 
 my guardian. Captain Graham has since been appointed a first lieu- 
 tenant in the regular army. That is the whole story. Do you live 
 here? Do you know Mr. Graham? 
 
 Paul. Yes, I live here. I know Graham. I guess better than 
 anyone else. 
 
 Bessie. Then tell me something about him. Is he a cross, crabbed 
 old fellow? I remember one of our girls at school had a guardian like 
 that. I told her she ought to poison him. Sometimes I think Daddv 
 couldn't have been altogether in his right mind when he made his will, 
 leaving me in the charge of an old man who hasn't thought enough of 
 the trust he accepted to come and see what manner of girl it was his 
 dead friend had confided to his supervision. 
 
 Paul. Graham didn't intentionally neglect the duty he had ac- 
 cepted. He could not have refused the request. Captain Harrington 
 had been kind to him, and it would have been ungenerous to have de- 
 nied the wish of his dying friend, don't you know. 
 
 Bessie. I know if I were a man, and a dying friend had placed 
 his only daughter in my charge, I would have learned something of the 
 girl, particularly if she were alone in the world, with no one to appeal 
 to save a guardian who seemed to have been wholly indifferent, who 
 did not make the least efifort to know whether she was happy or mis- 
 erable. 
 
 Paul. Don't you understand that Graham had no thought that 
 his ward was anything but a small child, who would be most happy 
 under the control of the school authorities where her father had placed 
 her? 
 
 Bessie. I don't understand it that way. Had a woman been my 
 guardian, she would long ago have learned whether I was a baby in 
 
10 THE CAPTAIN'S WARD. 
 
 long dresses, a girl in short skirts, or a young lady of eighteen. 1 am 
 eighteen. 
 
 Paul. But I don't know anything of woman's ways. 
 
 Bessie. I dia not say you did. You are not my guardian. You 
 are not more than three or four years older than I am. Mayhe you 
 have a guardian ? 
 
 Paul. Possibly I need one. I had a guardian once, but he never 
 bothered about me. The most I know of him is that he drew with 
 punctuality the commissions allowed him for the management of my 
 estate. 
 
 Bessie. You make your home here, I presume? I don't mind tell- 
 ing you that I think wc will be excellent friends. I shall insist upon 
 living here with my guardian. 
 
 Paul. Won't that be jolly. (Hesitates.) But Graham isn't mar- 
 ried, and would it be altogether proper? 
 
 Bessie. Certainly. Several of our girls live with their guardians, 
 and one, I know, is an old bachelor. 
 
 Paul. Just suppose that I were your guardian. 
 
 Bessie. (Laughing.) Why that would be too ridiculous. I will 
 wager you a box of bon-bons that you are not more than six years 
 older than I am. 
 
 Paul. (With dignity.) Let it be ridiculous, but all the same I 
 am Paul Graham, guardian of Bessie Harrington, daughter of Captain 
 Edward Harrington, deceased. 
 
 Bessie. (Anxiously.) Tell me true! Don't jest with me about 
 this. It can be no jest with me. I have been very unhappy. I could 
 not stay an hour longer at Madame Delaplaine's. I haven't anywhere 
 to go save my guardian's home. I came here believing that he would 
 receive me and protect me as he must have promised my dear Dad he 
 would. Tell me true ! You arc not my guardian ! You are so young 
 a man. 
 
 Paul. Nevertheless, Miss Harrington, I am Paul Graham, and 
 you, it seems, are my ward. I thought until now that you were a 
 child of not more than eight or ten years at the most. (Rings hell.) 
 James, fetch me immediately the bundle you will find on the window 
 seat in the library. (Exit butler.) I know now that I have been re- 
 miss in my duty, but I want you to believe that I am telling you only 
 the truth when I say that I expected to find in my ward a little girl. 
 (Enter butler, and lays package on table.) 
 
 Butler. That is what you wished, sir? 
 
 Paul. Yes. I have no further orders, James. (Exit butler.) 
 This, I think. Miss Harrington, (undoing package) will prove that I 
 believed you to be a mere child. (Picks up dolls and spreads out toys.) 
 
 Bessie. You were going to bring me those dolls? (Laughing.) 
 It is too funny. I'm going to accept one of the dolls, but the remain- 
 der and the toys must find a more juvenile owner. You called me 
 Miss Harrington just now. I'm going to be the best of friends with my 
 guardian. Call me Bessie, as you did in your letters to Madame. 
 
 Paul. Then you must call me Paul. 
 
 Bessie. But would that be proper? You, my guardian — why that 
 .would be too familiar. But (anxiously) you won't send me away? 
 You can surely arrange it so that I can live here? I'll make myself 
 useful and won't be in your way the least bit. Daddy trusted you, and 
 he expected that I should trust you also. I can never remember living 
 anywhere save in a boarding house, hotels, in the summer season at the 
 seaside, in the mountains, or at school. I am heart weary of it all. 
 I thought my guardian would let me live with him. Of course, 1 
 
THE CAPTAIN'S WARD. ii 
 
 never imagined he would be a young man, only a little older than his 
 ward. 
 
 Paul. Listen to me a moment. I am an orphan. Eight years 
 ago my father and mother were killed in a frightful collision on a rail- 
 way. Since then Aunt Hannah, my mother's eldest sister, much older 
 than mother, has been the head of this house. You see, I am a young 
 man, much as that fact may alarm you, and I do not know whether 
 that, in itself, will interfere with your plans. 
 
 Bessie. No. I am your ward, and the law, for I had .'in old at- 
 torney to give me an opinion, contemplates that you shall lake the 
 place of my father until I am of age. A ward, he told me, can live 
 with her guardian with the like propriety that a daughter can live with 
 her father. 
 
 Paul. If you can remain here, Bessie — it is a guardian's privilege 
 to call his ward by her first name — without in anywise compromising 
 your reputation, I want yon to stay and make this house your home. 
 
 Bessie. I'll obey your orders, sir. You don't know how lonely 
 my life has been. 
 
 Paul. Bessie, already you have brought sunshine into this gloomy 
 old dwelling. As your guardian, I think I can, w'ith all propriety, say 
 that you will remain here, and that I am exceedingly glad you have 
 come. 
 
 Bessie. I told you we would be the best of friends. I'll promise 
 to obey you in everything — that is everything that I want to obey you 
 in. There are some things, you know, that I know better about than 
 you possibly could know. Now, in those things you wouldn't expect 
 me to obey you ? 
 
 Paul. Bessie, I am not hard to get along with. I believe, with 
 you, that we will be most excellent friends. (Rings bell.) I must ask 
 Aunt Hannah to take part in our conference. (Enters butler.) My 
 compliment to Miss Pennington, and I request her presence here. 
 (Exit butler.) 
 
 Bessie. You won't let her send me away? I am so utterly alone 
 that I often think it would be a mercy to me if I could die. 
 
 Paul. Believe me, I did not imagine that you were so unhappy. 
 I condemn myself for my thoughtlessness. It was not the deliberate 
 neglect of a positive duty. I want you to believe that it all came about 
 because of my misapprehension as to your age. 
 
 Bessie. It is only recently that I grew discontented. The Christ- 
 mas holidays are at hand, to which all the other girls are looking for- 
 ward as a season that will call them home. I dreaded to be alone at 
 school. The Madame's nephew, a young man whom I just abominate, 
 since last summer has forced his attentions upon me. It is only during 
 vacations that he is an inmate of the house. You do not know how it 
 annoyed me, so I ran away this morning. I could not stay any longer, 
 I will never go back there again, where I cannot avoid that man. Rather 
 than that, I will drown myself. 
 
 Paul. You shall not return to be annoyed. (Enter Miss Penn- 
 ington.) Aunt Hannah, this is Miss Bessie Harrington, my ward. 
 
 Miss Hannah. Why, Paul, you told me your ward was a little 
 girl. My dear, you are a grown woman. (Takes Bessie's hand.) 
 
 Paul. Yes. But I did not know that until to-day. Aunt, Bessie 
 is very unhappy at school. She desires to make her home with us. I 
 am her guardian, and — 
 
 Miss Hannah. A girl ward and a boy guardian. I don't — 
 
 Bessie. You won't turn me away? Say you won't? Don't let 
 my guardian send me back to that school. 
 
12 THE CAPTAIN'S WARD. 
 
 Miss Hannah. Sit down, and let us talk this matter over quietly. 
 (All arc seated.) I am Paul Graham's aunt, and the head of this 
 household until my nephew shall marry. That I think eliminates the 
 question of propriety wholly from consideration. My dear, I am often 
 lonely. I have sometimes thought that if I had a nice pleasant young 
 lady to be with me, who will be tender to my failings, who will help 
 me from growing old by keeping me alive to and interested in the 
 happenings of the hour, I would be the better for such association. 
 Paul is devoted to me, but he is a man, who must fill a man's place in 
 the busy world. I shall be glad if you will stay with me. Paul, yo'Ur 
 ward must come to this house at my solicitation. 
 
 Paul. Aunt Hannah, I knew you could find a way. Bessie, Aunt 
 Hannah is the dearest and best Aunt that anyone could imagine. Now, 
 as it is all settled, you will have to find some children to give these 
 dolls and toys to. 
 
 Bessie. Oh, I propose to select one dolly that I shall keep in re- 
 membrance of this day. 
 
 Miss Hannah. Come with me, Bessie. I will show you the apart- 
 ments that will be set apart for your personal use. 
 
 (Broivnley enters hurriedly.) 
 
 Paul. You evidently have important news of some kind. What 
 is it? 
 
 Brownley. It may be nothing very material, but the postman has 
 just left this letter. It is from the War Department. 
 
 Paul. (Opening letter.) I am assigned to the gth Infantry, and 
 ordered to join the regiment in the Philippines. I must report at 
 San Francisco in time to embark on the transport leaving that port on 
 January 20th. Well, at all events, that will give me the holidays at 
 home. 
 
 Miss Hannah. Oh, Paul, my boy, I am so sorry. What will I 
 do without you ? 
 
 Paul. Aunty, you knew that this must happen, and you should 
 have prepared yourself. Fortunately, Bessie has come to comfort you 
 during my absence. My little girl {to Bessie) I seem to fall into your 
 father's term of address — I have not been an attentive guardian to you. 
 I want you to forgive my shortcomings, and I rely upon you to break 
 the severity of the blow to my aunt. 
 
 Bessie. {Slipping between Miss Pennington and Paul, and giv- 
 ing a hand to each.) To you. Aunt, I promise the love of a devoted 
 daughter, and to you, my guardian, I shall ever be a steadfast friend. 
 (Curtain falls.) 
 
 ACT II. 
 
 [Interval of one year. Same scene as in first act. Brownley 
 checking accounts at table. Curious arms displayed on side table.] 
 
 Brownley. A most gratifying report to forward to Captain Gra- 
 ham. The balance in the bank is unusually large. Mr. Drake should 
 seek profitable investments for much of this idle capital. I must call 
 his attention to that. Miss Harrington's estate is secured beyond the 
 liklihood of loss, but that account is misleading. The principal and 
 income are duly set forth, but for more than two years no charge is 
 made for her maintenance in anywise ; nor have the commissions of heB 
 guardian been credited. That is unbusinesslike and a mistake, I think, 
 when dealing with a woman's estate. I have written Captain Graham 
 several times, asking instructions as to that account, but he never al- 
 ludes to the matter in any of his letters. 
 {Enter Miss Pennington.) 
 
 I 
 
THE CAPTAIN'S WARD. 13 
 
 Miss Hannah. Mr. Brownley, you arc busy at your annual state- 
 ment? That reminds me that it is nearly thirteen months since Paul 
 left us. 
 
 Brownley. Yes, time slips by rapidly. 
 
 Miss Hannah. In this case, I am not so sure of that. Circum- 
 stances have much to do with the measurement of time's flight. I am 
 not reconciled to Paul's absence even now. I miss my boy to-day as 
 much as I missed him the hour he left us. 
 
 Brownley. I am sure you do. 
 
 Miss Hannah. If it were not for Miss Bessie, I do not know how 
 I could endure the separation. What a happy chance it was that made 
 her an inmate of this dwelling. Mr. Brownley, in Captain Graham's 
 absence, I, of course, must turn to you for advice. Not on business 
 matters, but in things appertaining to the household affairs of the fam- 
 ily- 
 
 Brownley. I am always at your service. You know Captam Gra- 
 ham makes ample provision for the maintenance of the house, indeed, 
 you have hardly expended the half of the sum set apart for that pur- 
 pose. 
 
 Miss Hannah. It is not a question of money that I have now in 
 contemplation. It rather relates to Miss Harrington. I often wonder 
 whether she is dissatisfied or whetlier she is gradually failing in health. 
 I notice that she frequently sighs deeply and appears self-absorbed. 
 
 Brownley. You have consulted a physician ? 
 
 Miss Hannah. No. I sugggested it to Bessie, but she would not 
 consent, declaring that there was nothing the matter with her. 
 
 Brownley. Possibly she is interested in some gentleman of her 
 acquaintance (laughs). You have mentioned, Miss Pennington, some 
 of the symptoms of that disorder, irrespective of sex, sighing like a 
 furance, and the like. 
 
 Miss Hannah. No, I think not. She is peculiarly indifferent to 
 society's demands, and apparently is not attracted to any gentleman 
 particularly. Bessie is a charming, warm-hearted, and affectionate 
 girl, but in some respects she approaches eccentricity in her ways. I 
 believe if she had been a boy she would have sought a cadetship at 
 West Point. She enjoys many of the popular novels of the hour, but 
 she studies diligently the map of the Philippine Islands, is familiar, 
 with the movement of troops there, scans the daily papers for new?, 
 from Manila, and reads carefully the Army and Navy Journal. Not 
 an item in that publication escapes her attention. 
 
 Brownley. I know Miss Pennington that she esteems Captain 
 Graham highly. May it not be possible that she entertains for him 
 feelings that may exceed respect? 
 
 Miss Hannah. I am surprised at your suggestion, Mr. Brownley: 
 Why he's her guardian. That relationship should preclude absolutely 
 such a thought. 
 
 Brownley. But Captain Graham is a voung man. A guardian- 
 ship is a fictitious legal relationship that expires at an early age, and is 
 limited in duration. I do not know that I ever heard of a ward falling 
 in love with her guardian, but it is not an impossible nor improbable 
 incident, under certain conditions. 
 
 Miss Hannah. Really, Mr. Brownley, the whole thing is so ab- 
 surd that I am astounded that a man of sucli clear judgment and busi- 
 ness forethought as you are credited with, could entertain that thought, 
 for an instant. Besides, I have set my heart upon Captain Graham's 
 marriage to Miss Ada Murray. I may ask your assistance in accom- 
 plishing that purpose? 
 
14 THE CAPTAIN'S WARD. 
 
 Brownley. Then you would object to Miss Bessie Harrington as 
 a wife for your nephew? 
 
 Miss Hannah. No, I would not. I love Bessie as though shi> 
 were my own daughter. But I know neither Paul or Bessie entertain, 
 even remotely, such sentiment towards the other. 
 
 Brownley. Let us then eliminate the thought from further con- 
 sideration. I shall, without Miss Bessie suspecting it, endeavor to 
 learn what is wrong with her. 
 
 Miss Hannah. I trust you will. I am glad this conversation has 
 taken place. I shall be busy for some time, and I am expecting Miss 
 Murray this morning. She promised to run over and inspect the col- 
 lection of arms Captain Graham sent from the Philippines. Let me be 
 told when she comes. (Exit.) 
 
 Brownley. I will do anything within reason for the good of Paul 
 Graham, but PlI be damned if, under any circumstances, I shall aid 
 him to win Ada Murray's love. (Enter Ada Murray at back.) I love 
 .'\da Murray with all my heart, but I dire not — 
 
 Ada. (Advancing.) Pray finish your sentence, Mr. Brownley. I 
 am sure I heard you speak my name as I entered this room. Talking 
 to one's self is not a very encourageing sign as to one's mental condi- ■ 
 tion. I once heard an eminent physician make that assertion. 
 
 Brownley. I don't know what I said or intended to say. The 
 fact is, Miss Murray, I know so little of what is going on about me that 
 my mental balance may well be questioned. 
 
 Ada. Well, you look as if you have had some surprising informa- 
 tion communicated to you recently. 
 
 Brownley. I have. It was not communicated to me as a secret. 
 I don't think it was, and I do not consider I am violating anyone's con- 
 fidence when I tell you that Miss Pennington a moment ago said her 
 dearest wish vifas that Captain Paul Graham and you should become 
 man and wife. 
 
 Ada. (Sprightly.) Isn't that grand? It is not everybody who 
 can have a marriage arranged for them by other people. That is not 
 usual in this country, is it ? 
 
 Brownley. (Angcrily.) I don'i know whether it is usual or nnl. 
 but I do know that I will not assist in bringing that marriage about. 
 
 Ada. Why not? Captain Graham and I — the high contracting 
 parties, that's a newspaper way of describing the victims at a wedding—, 
 are certainly suitable as to age, family, social position, and fortune. Of 
 course, I do not compare favorably in the last essential with Captain 
 Graham, but I have half a million in my own right. That is not so 
 bad, is it? 
 
 Brownley. I know you are rich in your own right. 
 
 Ada. But I asked you, Mr. Brownley, why you will not assist in 
 this proposed marriage negotiations, and you have not answered the 
 question ? 
 
 Brownley. I don't know, but I won't. 
 
 Ada. Now you arc getting angry. Don't you think I would makw 
 .some good man a good wife? 
 
 Brownley. Yes. I think you would. He will be a fortunate man 
 who wins you. 
 
 Ada. That's better. I suppose you have noticed that I am very 
 fond of Captain Graham ? 
 
 ■Brownley. I cannot say I have. 1 know you admire him as a 
 friend, but I had no thought that it went beyond that. Miss Murray. 
 
 Ada. It seems to me that when I entered this apartment— Cap- 
 tain Graham's den — I heard you — there was surely no other person here 
 
THE CAPTAIN'S WARD. IS 
 
 when I came in — talking to yourself about Ada Murray. You did not 
 give that young lady the formal title of Miss Murray, as you have done 
 during the last five minutes, a half dozen times. 
 
 Brownley. But I did not know that you heard me. 
 
 Ada. For shame, Mr. Brownley. I did not suppose that you would 
 speak of me in my absence with less respect than when I am present. 
 
 Brownley. I was — I was — the fact is I was annoyed a trifle at 
 .something Miss Pennington had said to me. 
 
 Ad.\. Was it that she desired Captain Graham to marry me? 
 
 Brownley. Yes. 
 
 Ada. You won't get angry again if I ask you to aid me in escaping 
 that fate? Would you aid me? 
 
 Brownley. I will do all that you ask me, for I know you will not 
 require anything that would be in anywise dishonorable. 
 
 .\da. I thank you for your good opinion, James (ivatclics Iiini). I 
 mean Mr.Brownley. 
 
 Brownley. Why did you call me James? Tell me, Miss Murray. 
 
 Ada. I don't know. Probably because you called me Ada, when 
 you thought I was not present. "Evil communications." St. Paul says, 
 generally have injurious consequences attending them. 
 
 iSROWNLEY. 'V'ou are pleased to ridicule me. 
 
 Ada. I do not ridicule you. There is no man whom I more es- 
 teem, or whose opinion I hold in higher regard. (Gives him both her 
 hands.) You will forgive me if I have said anything to wound you, 
 Mr. Brownley? 
 
 Brownley. Miss Murray, I — I — 
 
 Ada. Tell me what you intended to say. You are not afraid of 
 me? (Takes her hands aivay.) 
 
 Brownley. I have no right to say — to tell you — what I was about 
 to sav. But when Miss Pennington requested me to aid her in bring- 
 ing about your marriage to Paul Graham, -I could no longer conceal 
 from myself the truth — that I love you devotedly, and — and — 
 
 Ada. Well, what then? Tell me. 
 
 Brownley. You are not angry with me for what I have said? 
 Does that mean that there is hope for me ? 
 
 Ada. Jimmy — you see with what familiarity I can address you — 
 don't you remember the evening about a \'ear ago — it was during the 
 holidays — I was on my way home, when a brawny, rough man, some- 
 what intoxicated, grossly insulted me at the corner of the street just 
 below here, and you came promptly to my assistance. I was awfully 
 frightened then, jimmy. You never mentioned the incident since that 
 time. You remember that Bessie introduced us to each other the 
 next day, in this house. You never, in anywise, suggested to me that 
 I was under the least obligation to you for the protection you then 
 rendered me. You were badly hurt, for a ring on his finger had laid 
 your cheek open. Jimmy, I have been thinking that I ought to give 
 you something in recognition of that kind act in my behalf. 
 
 Brownley. I will not permit you to give me anything for that 
 service. I can, at least, cherish the recollection of that incident, which 
 I could not do if I were paid for it as a matter of barter and sale. 
 
 Ada. Not a matter of barter and sale, Jimmy. But I want to 
 give you something that you will cherish. I thought maybe you'd — 
 you'd let me give you — 
 
 Brownley. I cannot accept anything. Miss Murray. That would 
 be an insult to my manhood. 
 
 Ada. No, it would not. I am sorry, but I thought that as you 
 had protected me so bravely — and I am such a coward — that possibly 
 
i6 THE CAPTAIN'S WARD. 
 
 you would consent to protect me always, that is if I gave (holding out 
 her hands) myself to you. 
 
 Brownley. You don't mean that, Ada? You don't mean that 
 you love me and will be my w-ife? 
 
 Ad.\. Yes, but you won't let me. I thought you might be willing 
 to accept my gift, for I do love you and would be your wife ; that is 
 if you want me. (He kisses her.) Don't you love me, Jimmy? 
 
 Brownley. You know I love you, Ada. If ever a man loved a 
 woman with all his heart, I so love you, my darling. But I lacked the 
 courage to tell you so. 
 
 Ad.\. No, that is hardly the fact. If I had been a girl wholly 
 without fortune, you would have told me of your love long ago. It 
 was my half million of dollars that stood in the way and kept you silent. 
 You don't think me a forward, unwomanly woman for what I have 
 said? Say you don't? I could not let my life be blighted because my 
 fortune held you in awe. 
 
 Brownley. Ada, I hold you the sweetest woman that ever made 
 a man happy in giving herself to him. 
 
 Ada. That's just it, Jimmy. I gave myself to you. You said you 
 did not want me. You never asked me to be your wife. You never 
 would have asked me. When I overheard you talking to yourself, as 
 I came into the room, I determined to set everything right, if I could. 
 Wasn't it just horrid in me? 
 
 Brownley'. I loved you passionately from the night we werq 
 thrown together by that ruffian's act. But, Ada, I was afraid to tell 
 you of that love. 
 
 Ada. It was all owins; to that horrid money. Why. if you had 
 half a million dollars and I were a poor girl, do you think I would let, 
 that stand in the way of our marriage? Then why should you let it 
 separate us ? You naughty boy, you made me do the proposing, and 
 when I was trying to give you all sorts of "tips" — that's a word they 
 use on the street, isn't it? ( Brotvnlry nods) — you were just as blind as 
 a three days' old puppy. You couldn't or you wouldn't help me a bit. 
 
 Brownley. My darling, (embracing her) in my great joy, I have 
 wholly forgotten to tell you that Miss Pennington requested to be no- 
 tified as soon as you came. I never thought of what she said until 
 now. 
 
 Ada. And I am so glad you did not remember her request until 
 now. I must glance at those arms Captain Graham has sent, for Miss 
 Pennington will be certain to ask me my opinion of the collection. I 
 shall tell her I have been looking at them, but I shall make no allusion 
 to certain passages at arms which have taken place in this room this 
 morning. (Ada and Brownley ivalk to table. Bessie enters at rear 
 door.) Now you can promise (making a motion over her left 
 shoulder) Miss Pennington your aid in bringing about a marriage be- 
 tween Captain Graham and Ada Murray. You can do that since I have 
 confided to you the truth, and you know how much I love Paul Graham, 
 (Bessie /'laces hand on heart, then advances slozvly to front.) 
 
 Bessie. Pardon me, Ada. Aunt Hannah has asked several times 
 if you had come, (Staggers to chair.) Mr. Brownley, a glass of 
 water — I am faint. (Brozvnley gives her ivater. Bessie drinks.) Don't 
 stay. Ada. I am all right now. You will promise me that no mention 
 shall be made of this? Mr. Brownley will consider the same request 
 applies to him. 
 
 Ada. Neither Mr. Brownley nor myself will mention this in- 
 cident. I thought you knew us better than that. 
 
 Bessie. I do not doubt you, Ada. What I said was merely pre- 
 
THE CAPTAIN'S WARD. 17 
 
 cautionary. Mr. Brownlcy, I desire information respecting a matter 
 of personal business concern. (Rises.) I shall return presently. 
 {E.i-it.) 
 
 Brownlev. Do you know, Ada, wliether there is any gentleman 
 with whom Miss Harrington is particularly pleased? 
 
 Ada. You imagine that she is in love? I think not. I am nearer 
 to her, Jimmy, than any of her associates, and I would have discovered 
 her secret, had she had one, ere this. (Giz'cs him her hand.) I musV 
 run away now to Miss Pennington. I don't know how many or what 
 fibs I will have to tell her to account for my delay. I am going, sir — 
 I said, I am going. 
 
 Brownlev. But not in that formal way? May I — 
 
 Ad.\. Well, yes, you may. (Kisses her.) Good-bye. Will I al- 
 ways have to be the forward one? (Runs to door, shakes her hand at 
 him. goes out. and returns.) Jimmy, am I not just horrid? (E.vit.) 
 
 Brownlev. You have made me the happiest of men. Ada was 
 right. Her money would have forever kept my lips sealed, but now 
 I am free to tell of my love for her. She, however, must decide when 
 the world shall know of our engagement. (Enter Bessie.) 
 
 Bessie. Mr. Brownley, I am utterly ignorant of business aflfairs. 
 I an anxious to learn how much of my allowance is unexpended. 
 
 Brownley. A trifle over five thousand dollars, I think, exclusive 
 of a check for one thousand, which Captain Graham sent you as a 
 birthday gift. You have not cashed that yet. 
 
 Bessie. I shall not cash it. Could I draw the 1)alance in bank to- 
 morrow? 
 
 Brownley. It is yours to use when and how you choose. 
 
 Bessie. I will be pleased if you bring it to me to-morrow. Large 
 notes would be preferable. I will send you a blank signed check for 
 you to fill in the amount. I trust you will say nothing of this to any- 
 one? 
 
 Brownley. It shall be as you wish. 
 
 Bessie. Thanks. I need not detain you longer, Mr. Brownley. 
 ^E.rit Broz^'nley.) I have decided. There now remains only to put 
 that decision into action. (Rings.) I must confide in someone to aid 
 me. Yes, Mr. Singleton can give me the assistance I shall need. (En- 
 ter butler.) How long to luncheon, James? 
 
 Butler. Luncheon will be served in half an hour. 
 
 Bessie. Were there any letters for me ? 
 
 Butler. I laid one on the table for you. 
 
 Bessie. Call up Mr. Singleton, and say I wish to see him as soor- 
 as convenient. That is all. (E.vit butler.) (Bessie pieks up letter 
 and glances at address.) It is from Paul, dear Paul. (Kisses letter.) 
 I cannot read it now — oh, I cannot read it now. (Puts letter in her 
 bosom.) That is Aunt Hannah's step. She inust never know that T 
 know her plans, that have blighted my life. (Enter Miss Pennington.^ 
 
 Miss Hann.\h. I have found you, my child. I wondered where 
 you had hidden yourself. Why, how your hands tremble ! What has 
 alarmed you? 
 
 Bessie. It is you who are unnecessarily alarmed. (Puts arms 
 about Miss Hannah.) Would you miss me. if I were to leave you, 
 .Aunty? 
 
 Miss Hannah. You know I would. Paul and you are the dear- 
 est ones to me on earth. Some day you will marry. Then I must give 
 you up to your husband. (Bessie shakes her head.) Oh, the Prince 
 charming will come, never fear. 
 
 Bessie. I shall never marry. 
 
t8 the CAPTAIN'S WARD. 
 
 'Miss Hannah. All girls say that, but there will come a time when 
 you will meet your fate. 
 
 Bessie. (Aside.) That time has already come, God help mc ! 
 
 Miss Hannah. Bessie, let us talk of Paul. You know he is 
 twenty-five now, wealthy, good-lookins:, accomplished, and attractive. 
 A man who would make any woman happy. 1 believe in early mar- 
 riages, and I have been thinking it is time he should marry. 
 
 Bessie. Yes, Aunty, but I did not know that Paul had honored 
 any girl with his love. 
 
 Miss Hannah. We must help him. I have selected Ada Murray 
 for his wife. You are wholly disinterested, and for that reason can 
 form a better estimation of the girl than I can. My preference may 
 lead me astray. 
 
 Bessie. But why should I do that ? That is ever the lover's priv- 
 ilege. 
 
 Miss Hannah, Marriage is largely the creature of propinquitvj 
 often the mere outgrowth of association which ripens into love. Tell 
 me, what is your opinion of Ada Murray? 
 
 Bessie. I esteem her highly. A charming, pure girl. I have 
 made no special study of her. certainly not in the character of Paul's 
 wife. 
 
 Miss Hannah. My child, you have unbounded intlucnce with 
 Paul. Before he left us, I noticed that he seemed to defer to vour 
 opinions in preference to all others. I understand the tendency of 
 youth to be more frank with youth than with age. The relationship of 
 guardian and ward, it seems, did not make you stand in awe of Paul. 
 
 Bessie. Why, Aunty, I was not afraid of l^aul. but he. of course, 
 regards me merely as his ward. 
 
 Miss Hannah. Yes, I presume so. But you will help mc in for- 
 warding this marriage? 
 
 Bessie. I cannot promise that. But I will not stand in the way. 
 Paul must choose for himself. There is nothing to deter him in woo- 
 ing Ada. Some youn.g men might be kept silent because of her wealth, 
 but that could not apply to Paul. 
 
 Miss H.^nnah. I thought you would gladly aid mc in this mat- 
 ter. Later, possibly, you may see how desirable this marriage would be 
 for the young couple. We will, however, talk of this again. (Exit 
 Miss Penningtmi.) 
 
 Bessie. Never again, if 1 can avoid it, Auntv. I cannot remain 
 here now. Life would be daily torture for mc. (Hitter Ada.) 
 
 Ada. Bessie, w'hat do you think? I actually believe that Miss 
 Pennington has a marriage scheme between Paul Graham and your 
 humble servant in the incubator and hopes to hatch if. 
 
 Bessie, Yes, I believe such an alliance would be pleasing to her. 
 Paul Graham is a man wdiom most women would be pleased to call 
 husband, 
 
 Ada. I have not said he is not a desirable party. Did you ever 
 hear him di.scuss mc as i''e possible assistant bend of his household? 
 
 Bessie. Marriage, Ada. is the most momentous event in a wo- 
 man's life. 
 
 Ada, I guess it is. It's a serious thing for a girl to get married. 
 Don't you know, I saw in one of the comic papers where a grand- 
 mother made that remark to her granddaughter, and the pert miss re- 
 plied that while it was true, it was much more serious for a girl not 
 to get married at all. 
 
 Bessie. I am not well, .\da, and you will pardon me if I ask you 
 
THE CAPTAIN'S WARD. lO 
 
 not to discuss that subject to-day. But, I am sure that Paul Graham's 
 wife could not be anything but a happy woman. 
 
 Ada. In Ireland, I heard a proverb, that "the far off hills are 
 green." But my experience of the world, and J'm not as old as the 
 hills, teaches me that in all journeys there is more or less jolting, lei 
 the road be never so good. I am annoying you with my flippancy. 
 
 Bessie. I did not intend to be rude to you, Ada. Pardon me. 
 
 Ada. You are never rude, Bessie. Sometime, dear, I want to 
 tell you something. I am so ashamed of myself, but I am so glad thai 
 it all happened as it did. 
 
 Bessie. I am glad that you are happy, but don't tell me now. 
 
 Ada. You are too dreadfully doleful to enjoy it in your present 
 humor, while I was never so happy in my life. Bessie, if I did not 
 know better, I would think you were hopelessly in love. Good-bye, till 
 — well until I see you again. {Exit.) 
 
 Bessie. To all of this household, save me, the future holds forth, 
 some promise. I cannot continue here. I would go mad. There is 
 no one to whom I can tell my troubles, while I must hide my torment 
 with a soulless smile. {Enter butler.) 
 
 Butler. Luncheon is served. Miss Harrington, and Mr. Single- 
 ton awaits your pleasure in the library. 
 
 Bessie.' Say to Miss Pennington I will not come to luncheon. I 
 think if I abstain from food for a little while I shall feel better. You 
 will, how'ever, send Mr. Singleton to me here. (E.vit butler.) I must 
 make my preparations quietly, so as not to arouse the suspicions of 
 anyone, for every obstacle would be interposed to prevent me carrying 
 out my purnose. {Enter Singleton.) 
 
 Singleton. Yon wish to see me, Miss Harrington? 
 
 tSESSiE. Yes, but what I say to yon must be under the seal of sec- 
 recy. Will you promise me, Mr. Singleton, not to disclose what I am. 
 about to tell you? 
 
 SixGLETON. I shall not abuse your confidence. Miss Harrington. 
 If I can serve you in any way, command me. 
 
 Bessie. Something has occurred which renders my continuance 
 here impossible. Do not mistake my meaning. I have never known 
 auf'ht bin considerate kindness ever since I have been an inmate of my 
 guardian's home. Nor has an unkind word been spoken to or of me 
 by anyone here. For reasons which I do not care to disclose, I have 
 concluded to go to Manila, where I will enroll myself as a nurse in the 
 military hospital there. This has been in contemplation for several 
 months, and I have been under instructions to that end nearly the 
 whole of that period. To-day, I finally decided to carry out that pur- 
 pose. I ask you to help me in arranging for the voyage : to see to mj) 
 luggage; and to in.struct me as to the disposition of the funds I shall 
 take, so as to avoid the possibility of theft. You understand how that 
 is done. My trunks will be packed at one of the large stores, and will 
 be taken from there direct to the vessel. Will you do this for me? I 
 may have to obtain a passport, and you understand how that document 
 is procured. I will assume all responsibility. Of course, I expect to 
 remunerate you for your trouble. 
 
 Singleton. But will not Captain Graham object to this course? 
 
 Bessie. I shall write a letter which will be mailed by the pilot, 
 stating what I propose to do. When I reach Manila. I will notify Cap-. 
 Iain Graham of what I have done. Secure my ticket in the name of 
 Miss Harrington, so that in the list of passengers published in the 
 npwsi)apers. it will pass without comment. Will you do what I ask, 
 Mr. Singleton? 
 
20 THE CAPTAIN'S WARD. 
 
 Singleton. I will. 
 
 Bessie. I will communicate further with you to-morrow. I will 
 not detain you longer now, Mr. Singleton. You have been exceedingly 
 kind to me. I will not forget it. 
 
 Singleton. What you wish, I will do. Good-morning, Miss Har- 
 rington. {Walks up stage.) I believe the girl is in love with Cap- 
 tain Graham, and seeks this means to be near him. (Exit.) 
 
 Bessie. Paul gave me a drawer in this desk for my own use. 
 (I'nlocking draivcr and looking over several articles.) There is noth- 
 ing that I cannot leave here, even if I should never enter this house 
 again. Nothing that I care for. (Picks up bundle, unzvraps it, and 
 discloses a doll.. .Weeps.) Dolly, Paul bought you for me when ho 
 imagined that I was a mere child. It was the day I sought my guar- 
 dian's care and the shelter of his home. I have kept you, Dolly, sacre(' 
 from all eyes save mine, since that day when I first met Paul, and 
 (kisses dolt) I will keep you as long as I live. Inanimate, Dolly, yet, 
 you speak to me of him, and of a sweet dream that came into my lone- 
 ly life, which now I know never can be other than a dream. Dolly, 
 save Heaven and you, I have no one before whom I can lay my sor, 
 rows. Dolly, I did not know how dear Paul was to me until to-day 
 when I overheard Ada Murray ask Mr. Brownley to pledge his aid to 
 Aunt Hannah's scheme to bring about a marriage between Paul and 
 Ada. Ada loves him, Dolly. I heard her tell Mr. Brownley that he 
 knew how much she loved Paul. To no one but you, Dolly, can I ever 
 tell how much I love Paul, or how much I have missed Paul. For r, 
 year, I have fondled you and told you my secrets. I could tell no one 
 else. But I did not know until this morning that he was all the world 
 to me. 1 have missed hin% but I looked forward to his return to me 
 Now I know that I shall go through life forever missing him. I was a 
 school girl when he gave you to me, Dolly ; now I am a wretched wo- 
 man, for I have no hope. Paul never told me that he loved me, Dolly, 
 yet when he went away, mine was the last hand he grasped, and mine 
 the last lips that knew his kiss. He was the only man I can remem- 
 ber, except dear Dad, that ever kissed me. He will never know hov; 
 much that kiss was to me. He will never know how much I love him. 
 (Kisses the doll passionately.) He sb.iU never know tint — that my 
 heart is broken. (Falls on her knees, hugging the doll, and 7veeping 
 '■assionately as curtain slowly descends.) 
 
 ACT III. 
 
 [Scene. — Handsome apartments in Manila. I.ari'c zcindow ■it'ith 
 double sash opening to Aoor on right of stage. Double door at 'bacli 
 and single door on left of stage. Sergeant Gray, in Khaki uniform 
 assorting mail at table.} 
 
 Gr.\y. The boys of Company G will be glad when they hear Cap- 
 tain Graham is well on the road to recovery. Dr. Wright must think 
 his patient convalescent \A'hen he orders him to occupy this ajiiirtment 
 in the daytime, as a sitting room. The Captain had a close call. That 
 swamp fever, in addition to his wounds, nearly finished him. Poor 
 fellow, he will be permanently disabled. It seems like infernal rot to 
 call a wealthy gentleman, such as the Captain is, a poor fellow. He 
 likes the service, and a braver man never went into action. It will go 
 hard with nim to be retired. (Enter Dr. Wright. Gray salutes.) 
 
 Wright. Sergeant, I expected to find Captain Graham here. 
 
 Gr.\y. He will be, presently, sir. 
 
 Wright. Who is assisting him to this room? 
 
THE CAPTAIN'S WARD. 21 
 
 Gray. No one, save Miss Harrington. She — 
 
 Wright. That girl alone is not strong enough. It is absurd. She 
 should have help. 
 
 Gr.\y. It was her request that no one should aid her. It was 
 made in such a way that we could not refuse to gratify her. 
 
 Wright. But she will wear herself out. The strain upon her has 
 been very severe. When Graham was delirious for four days, she 
 never left his room, and never slept a half hour during all that time. 
 Her gentle nursing, not my medical skill, brought him through that 
 crisis. 
 
 Gray. She is his ward, I hear. Doctor, but she cares for him more 
 than is usual for a ward to care for a guardian. 
 
 Wright. Sergeant, what causes you to think that ? 
 
 Gray. You remember when the crisis was reached, for several 
 hours you could not decide the probable termination of the disease? 
 
 Wright. Yes, I was in grave doubt ; but what has that to do with 
 the girl's love for the Captain? 
 
 Gray. Once during that uncertainty you shook your head omin- 
 ously. She was watching your every movement, and when you did 
 that, I never saw a face that expressed such abject despair as did Miss 
 Harrington's then. 
 
 Wright. Her weakness, consequent on her long vigil, might ac- 
 count for that. 
 
 Gray. Yes, but it would not explain, when you were absent and 
 I was in the adjoining room for a moment, why the girl should kneel 
 at his bedside and cry "If you die, Paul, take me with you. Don't 
 leave me, Paul." She does not know that she ever uttered those 
 words. They were wrung from her in her agony. You are the only 
 person. Doctor, to whom I have ever told that incident. 
 
 Wright. Ump ! Sergeant, what made you enlist. Was it patri- 
 otism alone ? 
 
 Gray. In a measure, patriotism. 
 
 ■Wright. I have seen much of you recently. Gray. You are an 
 educated man. 
 
 Gray. Yes. Business reverses and a heartless girl had no little 
 to do with my entering the army. I think it was because I had known 
 to my sorrow a woman so different from Miss Harrington, that her de- 
 votion to Captain Graham attracted my attention more than it other- 
 wise would have done. 
 
 Wright. Graham is not married. All I have to say is that if he 
 doesn't marry his ward, that is if she will have him, he's an ass. 
 
 Gray. You are emphatic. Doctor. 
 
 Wright. I am occasionally. I am a rough old bachelor. I'm. 
 only an army surgeon — they never have any money — but if I can do you 
 a favor, I will be glad to do it. There is something about you that 
 pleases me. By the way, the Hong Kong steamer got in two hours ago. 
 If you are going to quarters shortly, should there be any mail for me, 
 will you bring it here? 
 
 Gray. Gladly, Doctor. Will you remain here until the Captain 
 comes? If so, I will go now? {Wright nods.. .Exit Gray.) 
 
 Wright. That man has been hit hard. That blow drove him into 
 the service. (Enter servant.) 
 
 Servant. Two ladies and a gentleman wish to see Captain Gra- 
 ham. 
 
 Wright. Did you learn their names? 
 
 Servant. The old lady says she is Captain Graham's aunt. She 
 
22 THE CAPTAIN'S WARD. 
 
 gave me her card, sir. {Gives it to Doctor.) They were passengers 
 on the Hong Kong steamer. 
 
 Wright. Miss Pennington. That's the lady who wanted news ofi 
 Captain Graham cabled to her, regardless of expense. I'm told she 
 paid more than five hundred dollars for the message I sent. Of course, 
 she must see the Captain, but it would be best for me to prepare him 
 for her visit. Tell her I will advi.se when he is ready for the inter- 
 view. {Exit servant.) 
 
 Wright. Oh, here you arc! {Captain Graham enters from door 
 on right, zi'all^'ing feebly, suj^forted by Bessie. Wright supports him 
 also, and talks as they zi'alk slowly to large chair near zvindow.) Miss 
 Harrington, thanks to you, we will soon have the Captain strong enough 
 to bear the trip to San Francisco. A sea voyage will do much in 
 building him up, and you too, my dear young lady. {Assists Graham 
 into chair, ivhilc Bessie arranges the pillows.) 
 
 Graham. That time seems very remote. I gain strength so slow- 
 ly. I ought not to complain. Bessie never does, although I fear I am 
 too exacting and she is overtaxed. 
 
 Bessie. Paul, you mustn't say that. You are the most tractable 
 of patients. You must hurry and get stronger, so that you can soon re- 
 turn to New York. Aunt Hannah and Ada will be the happiest of 
 women when you are homeward bound. 
 
 Graham. Aunt Hannah will be, I know; but I cannot say as 
 much about Ada. 
 
 Bessie. I can, Paul. I know what you are to her. 
 
 Graham. {Smiling.) Doctor, this young lady is my ward. But 
 you see she has her own opinion and knows ever so much more than 
 her guardian does. 
 
 Wright. I can see as far into a millstone as others, I fancy. Now 
 Captain, 1 have a surprise for you. You must be perfectly calm. You 
 have some visitors waiting now to see you. 
 
 Graham. Let them defer it. Bessie has promised to read to me. 
 and I enjoy her reading so much. Her voice soothes me. That is 
 true. {Takes Bessie's hand.) I do not say that merely in empty com- 
 pliment. 
 
 Wright. You must see these parties, Captain. They have jour- 
 neyed half round the world to visit you. 
 
 Graham. You must mean that Aunt Hannah is here. Dear old 
 lady, Bessie knows she loves me with all her heart. 
 
 Bessie. Others love you, loo, Paul. In that Aunt Hannah is not 
 alone. 
 
 Wright. There is a young lady and gentleman with Miss Penn- 
 ington. 
 
 Graham. I cannot guess who they can be. I would not be sur- 
 prised if Brownley had come with Aunty. But who the woman is, I 
 cannot imagine. 
 
 Bessie. (Hesitating.) I believe it is Ada. Ada Murray, Paul. 
 
 Wright. Miss Harrington. I was apprehensive lest you were not. 
 strong enough to bring Captain Grahain here without assistance. I 
 was right. 
 
 Bessie. No, you were not. I am only a little excited by this un- 
 expected visit. Paul, shall I go welcome Aunty and the others? 
 Shan't I bring them here immediately? 
 
 Graham. Yes. I am glad they have come, although, Bessie, I 
 cannot but regret that our readings will be interrupted. 
 
 Bessie. But .^da has come, Paul. She reads .so much better than 
 
THE CAPTAIN'S WARD. 23 
 
 I. She can sit with you while Amity and I will Iiave many a quiet 
 gossip to ourselves. 
 
 Grah.^m. I never heard her read. If you do not find the ta.sk irk- 
 some, I would much prefer that you should read to me. Then, your 
 arrangement does not take the young gcnlleman into consideration. 
 
 Wright. Possibly he is to fall to my lot. {Exit Bessie.) Cap- 
 tain, that girl may at any moment break down. The trouble, I imagine, 
 is more mental than physical. Deal with her with the most considerate 
 gentleness and tenderness. She certainly deserves that from you. 
 
 Graham. I don't know what you are driving at. I have always 
 been kind to and considerate of my ward. Damn it. Doctor, I often 
 wish that she was not my ward. I believe I am jealous of every man 
 v^?ho pays her more than ordinary attention. 
 
 Wright. I have learned that you and she are not kin. What is to 
 prevent you from marrying your ward? 
 
 Grah.'VM. Do you think — 
 
 Wright. I think if those Filipino bullets haven't knocked all thq 
 common sense you ever had out of your system, you'll ask her before 
 many hours have passed to be your wife. I had best go meet your 
 visitors. They may want to see me before they do you. (Exit.) 
 
 Graham. Your last prescription, Doctor, is the best . you have 
 ever given me. While he was speaking, in a flood of joy, the truth came 
 to me that I loved Bessie ever since the day she came to demand my 
 actual protection as her guardian. Bessie Graham. Bessie Graham — 
 If I have my way, she shall so write her name before another fortnight 
 has elapsed. (Enter Wright, Bessie. Miss Pennington. Ada, and 
 Bro'i.vnlcy. Miss Pennington crosses to Graham, kisses and [^ets him.) 
 
 Miss Hannah. I am so glad to see you, Paul dear. I thought 
 our journey would never come to an end, I was so anxious to be with 
 you. 
 
 Graham. And I need not tell you how pleased I am»to have you 
 here, on this, the first day I have been permitted to leave my room. 
 Aunty, you have Bessie to thank that I am here to welcome you. I 
 owe my life to her careful nursing. 
 
 Miss Hannah. Yet, Paul, it is wicked in me, but I was dread- 
 fully angry when I learned that Bessie had left, without apprising any 
 of us of her intention to come to Manila. 
 
 Graham. You did not know she was coming? 
 
 Miss H.\n.\h. No. The first intimation w'e had was her letter 
 mailed by the pilot. But, Paul, I thank God now that she did come. 
 Doctor Wright told me that had it not been for her unselfish care you 
 would not be here to welcome us to-day. 
 
 Bessie. Aunty, you must not accept that as the unalloyed fact. 
 Both the Doctor and Paul overestimate my services. But Aunty, have 
 you not forgotten that Ada is here? 
 
 Miss Hannah. I am not wholly responsible for my actions. 
 Paul, here is Ada. (They shake hands.) Mrs. iMurrav was. with diffi- 
 culty, persuaded to let Ada accompany us, and now she is here, she 
 will be delighted to relieve Bessie in the task of nursing you back to 
 health. The Doctor says your ward sadly needs rest. 
 
 Ad.\. Captain Graham, I will be pleased to aid Bessie, but she 
 must not transfer to me the whole responsibility. Then we have Mr. 
 Rrownlej' with us. You know that he's just the handiest sort of a 
 man to have about. Just think what he had to undergo, with two 
 women in charge — we wouldn't be bothered with our maids — and he 
 never whimpered. At least, if he did, we never heard about it. Why, 
 
24 THE CAPTAIN'S WARD. 
 
 when I'm seasick, I'm just a circus, and I was dreadfully sick nearly 
 half the time we were at sea. 
 
 Graham. You were in excellent charge, Miss Murray. (E.rtcnds 
 liis hand to Brou'iilcy.) Jiin, I am exceedingly pleased that you came, 
 particularly as you are so well recommended. 
 
 Brownlky. The ladies largely overpraise the slight service I ren- 
 dered them. 
 
 Wright. Pardon me, but this is the Captam s tirst day outside of 
 his room in which he has been confined for nine weeks. You must 
 let him rest now. This meeting, of course, has e.xcited him. 
 
 .Ada. Paul — I got in the way of calling you by your Christian 
 name in chatting with Miss Pennington about you — I'm just dying to 
 talk to you all by myself. I promise not to violate any of the laws 
 promulgated by his majesty, the Doctor. Can't I sit by you presently? 
 I have so much to tell you? 
 
 Graham. Certainly. I will be pleased, iMiss Murray, if you wish 
 it. 
 
 Ada. I do. That's so nice of you. (Walks to Bownlcy. sf^caks to 
 him aside, zi'hilc Miss Pcnnigton talks to Graham, petting his hand. 
 Bessie and Doctor seem to converse.) Oh, Jimmy, I'm going the pace. 
 Just because we've decided not to announce our eng.-igement until a 
 short time before the sacrifice, I find myself in no end o f trouble. I 
 no more hesitate now in making a false statement than if I were a gas 
 meter. Jim, remember how I shammed seasickness only that you 
 could have a pretext to be with me most of the time we were on ship- 
 board. I want to, I must, talk to Paul about Bessie. I told you onco 
 I didn't believe she was in love with him. but I was wrong. 
 
 Brownley. (Aside.) Ada, would it not be best to announce our 
 engagement? Miss Pennington still hopes to marry you to Paul. 
 
 Ad.\. (Aside.) Jimmy, you want a guardian. I think it must 
 have been j'our innocence that first attracted me. Why, I've a dozen 
 cousins who would much prefer to attend iny funeral than my wedding. 
 If our engagement is known, they will make mother's life wretched in 
 the endeavor to estrange us. They will swear, if necessary, that you 
 are seeking me only for my money, and what will come to me at inother's 
 death. I couldn't, you know, tell mother that I proposed to you. No. 
 Our announcement viill be the invitation to the ceremony. 
 
 Wright. You young people (to .-Ida and Brownley) seem to be 
 engaged in an animated discussion. 
 
 Ada. I should think so. It relates to some business of importance. 
 Isn't that so, Mr. Brownley? 
 
 Brownley. Exccedignly important, and Miss Murray is right, as 
 she usually is. 
 
 Wright. This house is one of the largest in Manila. Of course, 
 you will be welcome here. Let me show the apartments that you can 
 make your choice. 
 
 Bessie. I will show the rooins. Doctor. 
 
 Wright. I prefer you should remain with Captain Graham. Miss 
 Pennington, permit ire to escort you. Mr. Brownley and Miss Murray 
 will follow us. (Exit.) 
 
 Grah.\m. Bessie. 
 
 Bessie. Yes, Paul. 
 
 Graham. Come nearer to me. In hardly more than two years, 
 you will cease to be my' ward. I was not much of a guardian to you at 
 first. I may never strictly have been your guardian. But I never 
 deliberately neglected you. Let me make amends. Won't you let me 
 
THE CAPTAIN'S WARD. 25 
 
 protect and guard you always? I was made your guardian witlinul, 
 your consent, but I now ask your consent to be my wife. 
 
 Bessie. Paul, you don't know wbat you ask. You don't know 
 vvbat you ask. 
 
 Graham. Yes, but I do. I love you, Bessie. We are not kin. 
 1 his guardianship does not preclude marriage between us. I ask you 
 to marry me, Bessie, because I love you, and because I believe I could 
 make you a happy wife. 
 
 Bessie. Paul, you are still weak from your long sicknes'^, and — 
 
 Grah.am. Would pay your unselfish tenderness and fnilliful atten- 
 tion by an ofifer of marriage. I had hoped you held me in higher esteem 
 than that. 
 
 Bessie. Paul, I do not mean anything unkind, but I cannot accept 
 your offer. There are others who must be considered. (Paul shakes 
 head.) Yes. No mother could have loved you more than Aunt Han- 
 nah does, and I know it would grieve her if she knew of this. Her 
 dearest wish is that you shall marry Ada. 
 
 Graham. But why should .Aunt Hannah stand between me and 
 happiness? Besides, Ada Murrray is nothing to me. 
 
 Bessie. But you are all the world to her. (Paul shades head.) 
 Yes you are, Paul. I heard her confess that with her own lips. I 
 heard her declare how much she loved you. She does not know I over- 
 heard her confession. No, Paul, it would ruin two women's lives if jl 
 consented to your wish. I am greatly honored in the proposal yon havi- 
 made me, but my conscience tells me that I would do wrong if 1 
 answered you otherwise than I have done. 
 
 Grah.\m. Then you do not love me, Bessie? That alone can 
 justify your act? I had hoped otherwise. 
 
 Bessie. Paul, I would do anything for you that would be honor- 
 alile in me to do. But I cannot consent to be your wife. Aunt Han- 
 nah — 
 
 Gr.\ham. What richt has Aunt Hannah to be considered in this? 
 
 Bessie. Paul, won't you understand? Ada Murray loves you. 
 She would not have made this long journey if she had not. Aunt 
 Hannah brought her in the hope that the girl she wished to be your 
 wife might hear from your lips the words you have unguardedly 
 .spoken to me. You have been Aunt Hannah's first thou.ght ever since 
 you were a tiny infant, and your happiness is the first thought of her 
 heart even now. 
 
 Graham. But how about Paul Grahain? Is he not to be con- 
 sidered at all ? 
 
 Bessie. Yes, and because I do consider him, I ask you, Paul, if 
 ever I have been kind to you, that you in turn will be kind to me. 
 Protnise me that you will never mention this subject to me again. 
 
 Graham. Never again, Bessie. I was mistaken. But as I have 
 promised you that, you must in turn protnise me, that until you become 
 of legal age, you will remain my ward, and make your guardian's 
 house your home. Should I marry, then the promise is no longer valid. 
 I promised your dying father I would protect you until the law dis- 
 charged me of your guardianship, and I do not wish to break my 
 pledge to the dead. 
 
 Bessie. I hear them returning, Paul. Tell me before I leave you 
 that you are not angry with me. I could not bear that. It is for your 
 best interest. (E.vtends hand.) We shall remain as we were, before — 
 
 Gr.\ham. Before I asked you to be my wife? It is a woman's 
 privilege to accept or reject a suitor. Y'ou have rejected me, but I 
 
26 THE CAPTAIN'S WARD. 
 
 - am still your guardian. You will never know any difference in that 
 
 ^f,,^^ relation.sliip from what it was less than a y oar a.go. 
 
 Bessie. (Kissing Paul on forehead.) You have never been unkind 
 to me, Paul. I love you — I love you, as a grateful ward shoidd love 
 an indulgent guardian. (Exit.) 
 
 Graham. (Might eomes on, and the daylight fades from the 
 great ivinaow. i I am a disabled man, indeed. Time will make nic ac- 
 customed to my physical mishap, but this last wound will never heal. 
 I ought to have known that a cripple has no right m ask a woman 
 like Bessie to share his lot. The light has gone out of my life as the 
 sun has gone out of these skies. (Enter Ada.) 
 
 Ada. I am not yet acccustomed to these tropical changes, where 
 day so quickly yields place to darkness, and where twilight is un- 
 known. Paul, you are still here? I heard Bessie enter her room. Maj 
 I talk to you now? I want to do that when Bessie is not likely to 
 interrrupt our conversation. 
 
 Gr.\ham. If you wish it .so. 
 
 Ada. Of course I wish it. I am going to confide to you a secret 
 that no one knows hut Jim and I. 
 
 Graham. Who is Jim ? 
 
 Ada. "I should have said Mr. Brownley. Now. Paul, you mustn't 
 tell a soul, but Mr. Brownley and I are engaged to he married. I 
 think you ought to know, because your Aunt, Miss Pennington, has 
 an absurd scheme to marry me to you. 
 
 Graham. I know. 
 
 Ada. Who could have told you? It wasn't Jim, was it? 
 
 Graham. No. I must congratulate Jim and you. Jim is a good 
 fellow, and will make you a happy wife. But I never heard he was 
 paying attention to you. 
 
 Ada. He hasn't paid attention to any other girl, has he, Paul ? 
 
 Graham. You have no cause to be alarmed. I never heard that 
 he was attentive to any woman beyond what is retpiired from every 
 .gentleman to a lady in whose company he may chance to be for the 
 time being. 
 
 Ada. Well. Jim was in love with me — I want you to understand 
 this affair fully — ^liut he was afraid of mv money, and he never would 
 have proposed to me. I gave him no end of chances, for I loved Jim. 
 but he was blind, and would not see. So one day, well — I just pro- 
 posed to him. That's the truth, and Pm not a hit sorry that I did. 
 
 Graham. Then why did you say to Jim that he knew how much 
 you, loved me, Paul Graham? 
 
 Ada. How did you hear that? T did say it, but it was merely a 
 jest. I said that because I had just told Jim that I loved him. What I 
 said about you was because your Aunt Hannah had only just before 
 asked Jim to help her in marrying me to you. Jim asked nic at that 
 time if I thought Bessie was in love with you. I said no then, hut I 
 know better now. I wanted to tell you, Paul, that Bessie is breaking 
 her heart for you. 
 
 Graham. You are the second person to-day, Ada — I must call you 
 Ada — who has told me that Bessie loves me. But both were mis- 
 taken. 
 
 Ada. No, wc are not. 
 
 Graham. I proposed to Bessie not ten minutes ago, and she re- 
 fused me. 
 
 Ada. Why, that cannot be. I don't comprehend it. She loves you 
 — I know she loves you. If ever woman loved a man, she loves you. 
 I must go to her at once and set this matter right. Ask her again, 
 
THE CAPTAIN'S WARD. ,27 
 
 Paul. She was worn out and ovcrwrmiglii. Slu- may not Iiavc under- 
 stood what you asked her. 
 
 Gr.aham. She did, and I promised her never to broach the sub- 
 ject to her a-'-'in. Knowing that, I earnestly request you not to men- 
 tion one word to her of this matter. 
 
 Ada. My engagement was not to be announced to anyone until 
 just before the wedding, but if it will bring Bessie and you nearer by its 
 announcement, I will give it publicity to-night, if I must murde'- .tU 
 father's nephews and nieces. They want the money father left to 
 mother and me, which, by father's will, will go to them should I never 
 marry. 
 
 Graham. You are a woman whose energy carries her purpose to 
 
 accomplishment. . 
 
 fl C/ K\).\. Yet I amlha'^"". I fancy that in some way I have made you 
 
 and Bessie miserable. Tell me, Paul, you do love Bessie? 
 
 Graham. Yes, but now it is a hopeless love. .Xda, call Doctor 
 Wright, I will go to my room. 
 
 .•\d.\. Bessie would not call assistance. Nor will I. (Assists Paul 
 to rise. He hlaccs his hand on her shoulder and walks across stage.) 
 I'm a \\'oman with a mission now. Look there (Points to large win- 
 dow) the moonlight is already streaming into this apartment. Love 
 will light up your heart sometime as the moon illuminates this room. 
 (Exit. Bessie enters at centre door, carrying doll in her arms.) 
 
 Bessie. I do not know why this doll allays my anguish, why, 
 when my heart is heavy and the future holds no promise for me, I turn 
 to this doll for sympathy. It was Paul's first gift to me. It cannot 
 be that which makes it dear to me. No, it is because I have been 
 always alone, and have never spoken my sorrows or my joys to any- ^/»^ 
 one. Paul loves me. I saw it to-i«»(^t in his pleading eyes, when I \/ ' 
 
 turned from him and withdrew my hand from his grasp. I could not 
 touch his hand and refuse his love. If he were to ask me now, I could 
 not — I could not deny him again. (Seats herself in Paul's chair, ivith 
 moonlight streaming nfon her. Holding the doll to her breast, her right 
 hand falls over arm of chair. She muses in dcefi thought. Native en- 
 ters at center door, at^froachcs her chair stealthilv. f'a:cs at her. and as- 
 suming that she is sleeping, he kneels beside chair and attemfts to re- 
 move gently a ring from her Anger of her right hand. Her eyes of en; 
 she screams.. .He rises and strikes at her zvith knife. Bessie falls back 
 in chair. Sergeant Gray enters running. Native drops knife, attempts 
 to escape at li'indow, but is shot by Gray. People of houshold run in. 
 Paul staggers across sta^e to Bessie's chair and sinks on his knees.) 
 
 Wright. She has merely fainted. Thank God, the doll received 
 the knife thrust in its body, and saved her life. (Curtain falls.) 
 
 ACT IV. 
 
 [Same scene as Acts I and H. Ada and Miss Pennington discov- 
 ered.] 
 
 Miss Hannah. Ada, you must exert your influence with Paul. Per- 
 suade him to adandon this journey he has in view. It will consume two 
 years at least. 
 
 Ad.\. You must have noticed that Paul has greatly changed smce 
 his return from Manila. I question if I have the influence with him that 
 you credit me with. 
 
 Miss Hannah. Occasionally I fancy some bitterness has come into 
 Paul's life of which we are ignorant ; a greater disappointment than the 
 
28 THE CAPTAIN'S WARD. 
 
 adandonment of his military career. He is ever gentle, yet I feel that lie 
 is not so near me in sympathy as he was only a year ago. 
 
 Ada. But Paul loves you. Only yesterday he said his only regret 
 in leaving New York was his separation from you. 
 
 Miss Hannah. Ere this, I had hoped Paul and you would be man 
 and wife. Then your wishes would have been consulted as to the jour- 
 ney. 
 
 Ada. Paul never thought seriously of me as his wife. 
 
 Miss Hannah. I never doubted that our visit to Manila would 
 have brought about your engagement. 
 
 Ada. Miss Pennington, have you never thought that Paul may 
 have given his heart to another woman? 
 
 Miss Hannah. No. I once suggested that to Bessie, but she 
 turned the conversation, and I am sure she regarded my suggestion as 
 of little inoment. Bessie has odd notions. Fancy her keeping that hor- 
 rid doll wdiich saved her life in Manila. I should imagine she would 
 prefer to have no memorial of that dreadful night. 
 
 Ada. Paul gave her that doll. 
 
 Miss Hann.\h. Yes, but it was when he thought of her only as a 
 little girl. 
 
 Ada. Yet she has kept that doll ever since. Why? 
 
 Miss Hannah. A strange fancy : a morbid taste almost, that cher- 
 ishes such a meinorial. Why, the doll's body is torn with the murder- 
 ous knife thrust. 
 
 Ada. Possibly there are other associations connected with the doll 
 save those of Manila. 
 
 Miss Hannah. What? That Bessie loves Paul with a stronger 
 feeling than that of ward for her guardian? You arc wrong. They, I 
 regret to see, avoid each other. Paul should renounce that trust now, 
 for she will not come of age for nearly two years. (Enters hutlcr with 
 letters. Hands them to Miss Pennington. Exit butler.) 
 
 Miss Hannah. (Looking over letters.) These are for Paid. 
 This is Bessie's. This is mine. (Opens it.) Why: .-Xda, you and Mr. 
 Brownley to be married? I never was so astonished in my life. 
 
 .\d.\. Mr. Brownley and I were engaged before we went to Alanila. 
 
 Miss Hannah. And you never told me! 
 
 Ad.a. I told no one except Captain Graham. I did not wish th.-U 
 our engagement should be made public. That, I now believe, was a 
 mistake. Possibly two lives might have been happier than they are now, 
 had we announced it. 
 
 Miss Hannah. I have held you in high esteem. .\da. and wished 
 you were Paul's wife, but if you enter into this loveless marriage, I 
 shall always thank Heaven that my wish was frustrated. 
 
 Ati.\. (Langliing.) You have awfully inuddled my meaning. Mr. 
 Brownley just believes that there never was a girl to compare with nic, 
 and I know he is the best man in the world. 
 
 Miss Hannah. Then what am I to understand of tho.se two lives 
 that might have been happier than they are now? It is all a tangle to 
 me. 
 
 Ada. I would not offend you. Miss Pennington, but I cannot re- 
 frain from telling you that if you had not attempted to arrange a cer- 
 tain marriage, Paul and Bessie would not be as miserable as they are 
 to-day. 
 
 Miss Hannah. That is outrageous ! Why. I 
 
 Ada. I did not intend to be so cruelly plain, but I have pondered 
 over this affair until it has made me cross. It seems to me that you, 
 and you alone, can right the wrong tliat has been done. I believe — 
 
THE CAPTAIN'S WARD. 29 
 
 Miss Hannah. Paul and Bessie love each other? 
 
 Ad.\. Yes. Paul Graham acknowledged hia love for Bessie to me. 
 
 Miss Hannah. And Bessie ? 
 
 Ada. Is uncommunicative, but I will slake everything I have in 
 the world that she loves Paul with all her heart. Have you at any time 
 spoken to her about my marriage to Paul ? 
 
 Miss Hannah. I don't remember. {Hesitates.) I did ask her to 
 use her influence with Paul to aid that marriage. 
 
 Ada. She promised that she would? 
 
 Miss Hannah. No, she refused. 
 
 Ada. Is that all? A blank refusal? 
 
 Miss Hannah. She said she would not stand in the way of the 
 marriage. 
 
 Ada. She never hinted of this to me. I found her constantly off- 
 ering excuses to leave Paul and me together. On the steamer, on our 
 return, she several times refused Paul's and my assistance. The girl 
 was then so feeble, for she was still weak from her serious illness at 
 Manila, that it was with difficulty she could walk unaided. I felt at 
 the time her purpose was to throw us together. 
 
 Miss Hannah. I must know the whole truth, no matter how hard 
 that may be for me. Have I stood between Paul and his happiness? 
 I would not willingly do that. I pm sure you will believe me, I would 
 not do that. 
 
 Ada. You acted with InU one thought, his happiness. 
 
 Miss Hannah. I must go to him at once. He must ask Bessie 
 to be his wife. Tell me. can Paul be exilin.g himself because of my 
 intermeddling? I may tell him, may I not, what he told you about Bes- 
 sie? I must brin.g them together. It must be made all right. 
 
 Ada. Listen, Miss Pennington, Paul proposed to Bessie the after- 
 noon we reached Manila. She refused him. Paul told me that. 
 
 Miss Hannah. But he will ask her again? He can tell her how 
 my mistake was responsible for their unhappiness. 
 
 Ada. That would not help matters. Bessie made Paul promise 
 that he would never again ask her to be his wife. He will, I am sure, 
 never break his pledge. 
 
 Miss Hann-\h. Why did Bessie, if she loved him, refuse him? 
 
 Ad.\. I cannot understand. (Holds «/> hands in astonishment.) 
 Yes, I do now. When Mr. Brow-nley and I became en.gaged — it occur- 
 red in this room — he told me you had asked him to aid you in bring- 
 in? about my marriage to Paul. Bessie came in just as I said to him 
 "You know how much I love Paul Graham." She accepted that state- 
 ment of mine as the literal truth. She believed that I loved Paul. 
 
 Miss Hannah. Well, go on. 
 
 Ada. I know she heard, because Paul repeated the words to me at 
 Manila, and Bessie must have told him. I have no rfght to call you to 
 iud'jment, when it is my own words that have put Paul and Bessie 
 asunder. 
 
 Miss Hannah. What can we do? T will abase myself in the 
 dust, if need be, to make this right. 
 
 Ad.a. Bessie could correct this hateful blunder. She is the only 
 one who can. 
 
 Miss Hannah. I will see her immediatelv. But what must she 
 do? 
 
 Ada. Let us reflect before we act. I see but one hope. We can 
 appeal to Bessie's unselfish love for Paul. Paul's good must alone be 
 urged for the girl has already sacrificed Ker heart in her blind worship 
 
30 THE CAPTAIN'S WARD. 
 
 of him, and she may be iiKhiccd to act as we wish, if demanded lor 
 Paul's sake. Here she comes now. (Enter Bessie.) 
 
 Bessie. (Sternly.) Miss Murray, invitations have been issued for 
 your marriage to Mr. Brownley. Have I Iieard aright? 
 
 Ad.\. Yes. Here — (f'ieks up letter and hands to Bessie) — is one 
 addressed to you. 
 
 Bessie. I looked upon you as an exceptionallv stron'' character. 
 I admired you for your fixedness of purpose. I read, I thought, be- 
 neath the surface of your ordinary address, and in vou I saw one of the 
 women whose price is above rubies. Hardly eight months ago. in this 
 room, I heard you declare to this man — (holds out invitation) — with 
 whom this asserts you are soon to wed, that he, Mr. Brownley, knew 
 how much you loved Paul Graham. 
 
 Miss Hannah. It was all a mistake, Bessie, indeed it was all a 
 mistake. 
 
 Bessie. Pardon me. Aunty, my tiueslions are addressed to Miss, 
 Murray. 
 
 Ada. I said that. But a moment before I had told Mr. Brownley 
 I loved him. More than that, 1 proposed to 'Mr. Brownley. I tell youy 
 Bessie Harrington, this ihat you may comprehend that I love Mr. 
 Brownley so wholly that I ignored the time honored custom which 
 keep women silent, and offered myself in marriage to him. 
 
 Bessie. Miss Murray, you must indeed love this man. 
 ^ Ad.\. Yes, T do. I love him so much that there is no place in mv 
 heart for Paul Graham. That was the meaning of what I said. I did 
 not imagine inv words could be given other signification. I fold Paul 
 what I had said when I told him of my engagement to Mr. Brownley. 
 
 Miss Hannah. You told Paul of your engagement? When? 
 
 Ada. In Manila, the same night the woman he Invcd and still loves 
 rejected him. He was still weak from wounds he had received in bat- 
 tle, ana, noble fellow, he pled that disability in extenuation, in justifi- 
 cation, of her refusal to be his wife. 
 
 Bessie. You dare say that to me? You, who have made my life 
 desolate? You, who now criticizes my acts, and yet kept your lins 
 scaled as to your engagement, as lhou>j:h that wore something of which 
 vou should be ashamed? You admitted Paul Graham to your confi- 
 dence. Whv was I not told of this? I had the riedit to know. 
 
 Ada. You refused my confidence. The day of my engagement I 
 strove to tell you of it. but you declined to hear me. Since then, vou 
 have studiouslv avoided opportunity for nic to tell yoti that which I 
 desired you, above all others, to know. 
 
 Bessie. I thought you wished to tell me of your love for Paul. 1 
 could not trust myself to listen to that confession. 
 
 -Ada. You are not without fault. Paul Graham, unon whom the 
 blow falls heaviest, who is absolutely innocent of all deceit, is being 
 driven into exile through our acts. 
 
 Bessie. Ke must not co. 
 
 Ada. What will you do? You alone can bid him stay. 
 
 Bessie. How? 'What cnn I do' 
 
 Ada. Go to him. Confess your love. You arc ns brave — a braver 
 woman than I. Offer yourself to him as T did to Mr. Brownley. Tell 
 ''im the truth — for it is the truth — that vou will die. if he leaves vou. 
 Tn no other wav can you break the silence you itnposed upon Pau! 
 Graham at Manila. 
 
 Bessie. I caimot — I caiuiot degrade myself in his eves. He would 
 despise me if I stooped to that. I still command ...s respect. In inercy 
 let me retain that. 
 
THE CAPTAIN'S WARD. 31 
 
 Ada. I am mistaken. You do not love Paul Graham '1 
 
 Bessie. So much so that I would willingly lay down my lifi- if in 
 so doing I could purchase peace and happiness for him. I have never 
 known a selfish thought associated with . aul. Life has hcen emptv for 
 me for many months, for I believed you loved Paul, and that you would 
 lie his wife. For his sake, I would brave much, but T cannot deliber- 
 .itelv earn his contempt. 
 
 Ada. (Aside to Miss Hannaii.) She will do what we suggest for 
 Paul's .sake. That is the only motive that will move her to our wishes. 
 
 Miss Hannah. Bessie, I did both you and Paul wrong, but it was 
 done in ignorance — not intention. I ask nothing lor myself, but I ask 
 everything for Paul. On my soul, I am guiltless of deliljerate wrong 
 to you both. 
 
 Bf.ssie. i ou must not accuse yourself. I have never accused you. 
 
 Miss Hannah. But I am driving Paul away. I am powerless to 
 hold '•'im from his purpose. I have tried to do that and have failed. 
 
 Bf.ssie. Then I will fail also. 
 
 Miss, Hannah. I do not ask you to humbl'' "ourself. Only sjo to 
 Paul and open your heart to him. For Paul's sake, vou must do th:>'. 
 
 Bessie. I cannot. I feel I have not that influence you think I 
 have with him. .Aimtv. Paul would not listen to me now. Let me 
 think. 
 
 .Ada. Someone is coming, (linlcr Paul, ivho walks with a s!ii;lil 
 iim/'. and Brnivnley.) 
 
 Paul. The ladies have possession of the den. Brownie}', we will 
 defer (he examination of the map and documents for a time. 
 
 Browniey. The legal papers I left at Drake's office. I will send 
 for them. Some will need witnesses to your signature. 
 
 Ada. Mr. Brownley, I have a favor to ask from you. Captain, 
 I'm going to run away with Jim. (Paul laui^lis.) Only for a few min- 
 utes. You'll not mind, will you ? 
 
 P.MJL. He must obey, at all events, now. Two weeks hence — well, 
 let time settle that. At present, all await the' pleasure of the bride- 
 elect. 
 
 .Ada. It is hieh time someone should make you obey and abandon 
 that fool journey vou are contemplating. (Exit Brownley and Ada.) 
 
 Paul. (Looking at letters.) Solicitiii.g subscription to all sorts 
 of projects. Why. Aunty, here's a letter for you. .A man's hand- 
 writinsT. and posted at San Francisco. You have not opened it. (Hands 
 it to Miss Hannah.) 
 
 Miss Hannah. I wonder who is writin.g me. (Ada at entrance 
 lieckons energetically to Miss Hannah, who ivalks to door, contem/'lat- 
 in.s envelope. ) 
 
 Ada. (Aside to Miss Hannah.) Come. Bessie and Paul will bfi 
 alone. They will not notice our absence. (E.rit Ada and Hannah.) 
 
 Paul. (Glancing around.) Bessie, I wish to sneak to you on 
 business. Within two years you will attain legal age. I shall be ab- 
 sent then, but Mr. Drake will account for and transfer your estate to 
 vou, in good dividend paying securities, which you will do well to re-' 
 tain, and make no chano"e in the investments. 
 
 Bfssie. Paul, don't talk to me of that. I don't care anvthin" about, 
 it. (Rises and at^fmaches him.) 'lell me. you are not going away for 
 two vears? Why. the separation will kill Aunty. 
 
 Paul. Not kill her, Bessie, but Aunt will miss me. 
 
 Bessie. Paul, you have never been cruel to me. Will Aunty be 
 the only one who misses you? You do not think me so heartless 
 as that ? 
 
32 THE CAPTAIN'S WARD. 
 
 Paul. I did not intend to wound yon, Bessie. You know I would 
 not. 
 
 Bkssie. Yes, I know. You have always been considerate of me. 
 But. Paul, why do you go? Have I anything to do with it? Why do 
 yon contemplate shutting yourself out from all those who love you and 
 to wnom you have always been .so good? 
 
 Paul. I think it best that I should go. { Bessie sinks in chair and 
 zvecl^s.) Bessie, I do not want to hurt you. hut I think my duty de- 
 ni.Tnds that I .should tell you that it is not likely I shall return even in 
 five years. When I see New York again it is probable that you will be 
 a happy wife. (Bessie rises ivitli gesture of denial.) Do not be angry 
 with me, I may never have mother opportunity to sneak of your future. 
 Five years is a long time. You are an attractive woman, who will bv 
 sought in wedlock, and I — 
 
 ijESSiE. (.Indianantly.) A poor girl's path is so strewn with hap- 
 piness that she may nick whatever pleases her fancv. 
 
 Paul. You are not a poor girl. 
 
 Bessie. Having money, I can cnnminnd the market. Paul Gra- 
 ham, you are the last man who should urge me to buy a husband w-ith 
 my hateful fortune. 
 
 Pat'l. I do not urge you to marry anyone. I mentioned only the 
 probability of "our marriage. 
 
 Bessie. I was not a chiUi \\hcn I became your ward. .'\re you 
 weary of your duties as my guardian? Once for all. I will not marry 
 nt your dictation. I can seek a home elsewhere, if you desire it, hut no 
 arguments will force me into a marriage in which love has no part. 
 
 Paul. I am not blind. I know you are no longer the happy girl 
 who won our hearts when you came to claim your guardian's protec- 
 tion two years ago. A few days since I mentioned tuat change to Aunt 
 Hannah, and she wondered if you were not in love. 
 
 Bessie. Is that all she told you? 
 
 Paul. In substance, yes. You must believe that my first wish is 
 your happiness. 
 
 Bessie. Then why do you not help me to secure that happiness? 
 
 Paul. I have tried to do that always. 
 
 Bessie. How? In exiling yourself from your home? Do you 
 think I do not know that I am forcing vou to seek happiness elsewhere? 
 
 Paul. You are vexed with me. Now listen. I am a wealthy man. 
 Charles Howard is an accomplished gentleman, whose character is irre- 
 nronchable. He has. I know, but little means. Your persoii;iI fortuno 
 never, with my consent, shall be diverted from vour own control, if T, 
 cnn prevent it. But for your sake. I will secure for Howard an interest 
 in a well established lucrative business. 
 
 Bessie. What then? 
 
 Paul. That would give to Howard income sufficient to secure your 
 happiness. 
 
 iiESSiE. What nm I to Charles Howard? What is he to me? 
 
 Paul. Is he not the man you love? The man you would marry? 
 
 Bessie. Charles Howard is nothing to nie. 
 
 Paul. Who is then. Bessie? ."Xunt Hannah believes that vou are 
 interested in Howard. 
 
 Bessik. He is no more to me than any of the gentlemen who are 
 frequent visitors here. 
 
 Paul. Then you are not in love? You do not love any man 
 enough to be his wife. 
 
 Bessie. (Ilesilaling.) I — why do you ask me, Paul? 
 
THE CAPTAIN'S WARD. 
 
 .?,? 
 
 Paul. I am your guardian. I understand then, that you do not 
 love anyone? Then why are you unhappy? 
 
 Bessie. I have not said I was unhappy? 
 
 F.\UL. You may bhnd other people, but not me. Answer the ques- 
 tion I asked you. Do you love any man enou.eh to wish to be his wife? 
 
 Bes.sie. God help me, I do ! But I do not know how to win him, 
 nor to let him know that he is everything to me. 
 
 Paul, tell me who he is. I will help you to win him, if I can. 
 
 Bessie. Do von want to make me happy? Then renounce thi<i 
 preposterous exile. Is there no wav I can inriuence you to do that ? 
 
 Paul. But— 
 
 Bessie. Paul, if you must go, take me with you. Do not leave me. 
 I am all alone in the world. 
 
 Paui,. I do not .see how I can do that, Bessie. It would place us 
 in a position in which we would be compelled constantly to explain our 
 relationship of guardian and ward. Our ages too, uessie, would con- 
 stantly excite connnent, and call forth sneers and doubts of the truth 
 of that relationship. A woman's reputation is easily tarnished, and 
 foul tattle holds firm lodgment in the memory of gossips. I do not 
 see any way to accomplish your desire. 
 
 Bessie. (Al>t>ruaching near to Paul.) But I — I think I do, Paul. 
 
 Paul. You must tell nie. I cannot guess your plans. 
 
 Bessie. I have no plan. But I might go. ( Hesitating. ) I could 
 go, Paul, as — 
 
 Paul. Yes, in what way? What character? 
 
 Bessie. I could go as — ?s your wife. Paul. Indeed I mean it, 
 Paul, if you will have me. You once askea me to be your wife. I 
 loved you then, Paul. Oh, how I loved you. and it almost broke my 
 heart when, thinking it to be my duty, I refused you. I believed that 
 another woman loved you, and I know Aunt Hannah desired that you, 
 and that woman, who is good and true and worthy of you, Paul, should 
 marry. I believed that you could not help loving her, and when you 
 asked me to be your wife, I thought it was the promptings of gratitude 
 that I had cared for you when you could not care for yourself. It was 
 wicked of me to have such thoughts of you, but, Paul, I was jealous 
 madly jealous, for .\da had come that very day, and in my hearing had 
 asked to talk to you alone. I wanted often to talk to you alone, but, 
 Pual. I dared not ask it. 
 
 Paul. I love you, but — I am a cripple now. It is for life. There 
 is no hope that I can ever overcome that mishap. Bessie, I have loved 
 you. I do love you, and because I do love you, I cannot selfishly accept 
 your sacrifice. 
 
 Bessie. Paul, it is no sacrifice. Indeed, it is not, for I love you 
 with all mj^ heart. I have loved you from the time you gave me that 
 doll, which has been my mascot. You were the only person, sa\-e Dad- 
 dv, who thousht enough of me to give me anything, and then you were 
 so youn.e, .so nice, so different from what I expected to find you, that I 
 couldn't help loving you. and, Paul. I will always love you as long as 
 I shall live. Don't despise me or turn from me. I am pleading to jou 
 for my life's happiness. Won't you take me with you. Paul ? 
 
 Paul. My darling, you have brought again into my life the sun- 
 shine that came into this gloomy house two years ago. the day my ward 
 claimed her guardian's protection, and accepted the doll he tendered her 
 as a peace offering. 
 
 Bessie. Tne doll that I have kept since, and will always keep, to 
 my dying day. But you ha\-e not answered my question. Won't you 
 take me with you, Paul ? 
 
 L.ofC. 
 
3^ THE CAPTAIN'S WARD. 
 
 Paul. Until death do us part, Bessie. {She runs into liis urnis. 
 He kisses her. She looks up into his face.) 
 
 Bessie. Was I unwomanly in confessing my love for you, Paul ? 
 I'm glad I uid it, and I will make you glad all your life that I proposed 
 to you. 
 
 P.-\UL. I did not refuse you as you refused me once upon a time. 
 
 Bessie. I almost died when I did it, but I will not refuse you 
 again. 
 
 Paul. Well, to put that to the test, marry me in ten days. I will 
 have the cards by to-morrow morning. 
 
 Bessie. I could not get my trousseau ready in that tiine. 
 
 Paul. .-Xunty can attend to that. It will give her occupation and 
 no end of pleasure. .\re you going to refuse me this request? 
 
 Bessie. •! don't know how I can get ready, but — I consent. Now, 
 Paul, you will promise me to abandon this hateful journey? 
 
 Paul. I will not srive no our wedding journey, but you can arrange 
 the itinerary of that trip. (Enter Ada and Brownlev.) 
 
 Ada. Well, well. Is it all well? 
 
 Paul. I have dr -ided to renounce the charge of my ward, and — 
 
 Ada. I'd like to hammer .some common sense into you two. 
 
 Paul. Had you permitted me to finish my sentence, I intended to 
 say will take charge of my wife instead. 
 
 Ada. I'm so glad. To avoid all blunders in the future, you ought 
 to be married, say .six weeks hence. 
 
 Paul. Oh, no. We will be married in ten days. Wednesday 
 week. 
 
 Ad.-\. Why, that is the day before our wedding. I don't care, now 
 thpt yon two have come to the best of understandings. (Enter Doctor 
 IVrifhf and Miss Ifannah.) 
 
 Wright. (Takim Paul and Bessie by hands.) I am so glad to 
 see you, and so glad to know yon have come to the best of understand- 
 ings. This little woman, when she left Manila, gave me three thousand 
 dollars for Sergeant Grav. Well, his enlistment expiring, he became 
 a buyer of hemp, and in a few months has become comparatively wealthy, 
 for some other pood soul sent him twenty-five thousand. I think Gray 
 was dead in luck that niffht in Manila, when he attempted to save a 
 little woman from an ass^s«in's knife. 
 
 Brownlev. Singleton is in partnershio with Gray. I wrote to 
 him when we were in Maniln that considerable money could be made in 
 buyine hemn there. Mis Harrineton presented Singleton with three 
 thousand dollars. It seems he had aided her in some way, and she 
 chose to remember it. Gray and Singleton seem to hnve known each 
 other at school. They w-ill, at no distant day, be men of large influence 
 and means in our new possessions. 
 
 Paul. What about vou. Doctor? 
 
 W'RIGHT I'm retired. Well. Paul, when I reached .San Francisco, 
 I wrote to Hnnnali. asking her to be my wife. I thoup-ht I hadn't any- 
 thinf but my pav when I wrote to her, but it seems that some stock I 
 boueht at low fiffnres. more from charitv than as an investment, has 
 become enorrnouslv valuable. I made eighty thousand. I couldn't 
 wait at San Francisi-n for an ans\^•er to mv letter, so I came on here, 
 and, you youn? scoundrel, I'm to be your uncle in a few weeks. (All 
 gather around Hannah and Wright to cnnzratulate them.) 
 
 Paul. Aunty, was that the letter I gave you a half hour ago? 
 
 Miss Hannah. 'Yes, Paul, but I didn't know it would make such a 
 chanp-e for me. For. Paul, I have accepted the Doctor. 
 
 Bessie. Paul, what enchantment rests upon this den of yours? 
 
IHE CAPTAIN'S WARD. 35 
 
 Here I first met you ; here you gave me the doll that consoled me often 
 in my misery and saved me from the assassin's knife. Here Mr. 
 Brownley and Ada told their love. 
 
 Ad.\. Hardly accurate. Here Ada told her love. 
 
 Bessie. Here Aunt Hannah received Doctor Wright's written 
 declaration of his love, and — here — here — 
 
 All. Go on. 
 
 Bessie. Here the Captain's ward oflfered to become the Captain's 
 wife, and won happimess by her boldness, (Curtain falls.) 
 
,,onutL. 10 CAT. 01V. 
 SEP, V. 1902 
 
 5!5 i9o: 
 
LIBRftRY OF CONGRESS 
 
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