Z-^J^3y- 
 
LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 
 
 016 103 631 6 
 
I ira 
 
 H ^ ^ i 
 
 f 
 
 ^ BRAMA. 
 
 IN FOUR ACTS. 
 
 BY 
 
 ■y 
 
 JOSEPH AND HARTMAN. 
 
 Miss Hattik Hartmax and Mr. Israel Joseph, 
 
 Joint Authors and Sole Proprietors 
 
 NEW YORK. 
 
 Copyrighted and Entered in Congress, at Washington, D. C, U. S. A. 
 
 1885. 
 
 Translations and all Rights Reserved by the Authors. 
 
 ^V;- - 
 
 1885. 
 F. U. Sackett, Printer and Lithographer, 183 William Street, N. Y. 
 
-^^u^ 
 
 .^1 
 
 3." 
 
 CHARACTERS IN DRAMA. 
 
 The plot laid m Newport, R. I., U. S. A. Time, 1854. 
 
 Robert Darrell, ) ^ .1 
 
 Stephen Darrell, s ^''°*^'^^- 
 
 Parson Webb. 
 
 Frank St. Clair, (a physician.) 
 
 Joshua Curry, (an undertaker, afterwards sheriff.) 
 
 Tony Vilks, (a sexton, afterwards the police force of the village.) 
 
 (Chums of the old school.) 
 Lawyer Scruggs, (a magistrate.) 
 George Washington Columbus. 
 Man Servant. 
 
 Charlotte Darrell, (daughter of Stephen,) 
 Mrs. Webb, (wife of Parson Webb.) 
 Dora Trent, / (Mrs. Webb's adopted daughter.) 
 Dora, ( (wife of Robert Darrell.) 
 
 Chorus, Servants, Guests, &c. 
 
 TMP9ti-0 J64 35 
 
D AR R ELL. 
 
 ACT I. 
 . Scene I. — Inierior of Parsonage. 
 
 On the flat . folding glass doors. On left side of stage, bookcase atid 
 window with curtains. Ne.xt to windoiv a door leading to room. 
 On right side, old-fashioned fire-place, with brightly burning logs, 
 also door corresponding with om on left. In centre, library table, 
 on which lamp faintly bnrjting. papers, books, paper-knife, etc. 
 Arm chairs on each side of table. Lounge and chairs disposed 
 around room. Flower stand ni window, with pot of fimL'ers. Man- 
 tlepiece, on which are vases, photos and clock. 
 (Music : s curtain rises.) 
 
 Mrs. Ida Webb (enters from door L. E. ) Turns up lamp and stage 
 lights turned on full. Looks at clock, and says : 
 
 " Where can he be ? I wish he would come. It is now only si.\ 
 months since we hav^e been married, yet every hour he is absent from 
 home, finds me lonely and unhappy." (Sits down at table and toys 
 with paper-knife.) " Yet I must not complain, for as usual, he has 
 been on some mis-ion of charity, praying with and consoling the afflict- 
 ed, .'spreading peace everywhere. I should be a truly happy woman, 
 for no better man e.xisis than Parson Webb." 
 
 (Enter from glass doors in flat. Parson Webb, followed by Robert 
 Darrell.) 
 
 Mrs. Webb (advances toward Parson.) 
 
 "Oh, Edwin, 1 am so glad you have come, for I've waited tea for 
 you for over an hour. I — I beg your pardon, I did not perceive you 
 had comoany." (She bov/s to Darrell, who removes his hat and bows 
 stiffly.) 
 
 Parson Webb. Affectionately taking his wife's hand, •• This gen- 
 tleman has a little business with me, Ida dear. I will be with you in 
 a few minutes." 
 
 Mrs. Webb. "Certainly Edwin, but I hope you will not be long." 
 (aside) " My heart feels heavy, I have a presentiment of coming evil. 
 1 do not like that man. " (Walks towards door R. E. Turns round, 
 bows to both, who return it. and exit Mrs. Webb.) 
 
 (Webb meanwhile hands Darrell arm-chair, and sits down in the 
 other one. Darrell does not seat himself, but stands leaning on back 
 of chair, idly drumming on same, carelessly says :) " Mrs. Webb is a 
 charming woman. You. have been married about five months, I 
 believe } " 
 
 Webb. " A little over, but Mr. Darrell, I beg to remind vou, that 
 
- 1)ARRF.[,[,. 
 
 you are here against my expressed wish, on your own invitation, for 
 the purpose of transacting some business with me. Is it too much to 
 ask that you will confine yourself to that business ? " 
 
 (Darrell steps to all doors, without a word opens each one, looks out 
 into hall. Then crosses and takes his seat directly in front of clergy- 
 man.) 
 
 Darrell. "What I have tn say relates entirely, in the first in- 
 stance, to the death of Harvey Malcolm." 
 
 (Webb almost springs from his chair, and evinces mental excitement, 
 when Darrell, with a strong hand on either shoulder, forces him back 
 into the chair.) 
 
 D.aiCrell. " I know all you would say. The subject is unpleasant 
 to you, I am aware, but I cannct help that ; you must and shall hear 
 me, because I am convinced that Harvey Malcolm did not die the 
 death of a suicide." 
 
 (Webb starts again but Darrell forces him back into the chair.) 
 
 Webb. " How could It be otherwise — how .'' " 
 
 Darrell. '■ Look at the circumstances, a man is found dead at 
 the foot of a cliff ? He had been disappointed in love ; excu.«e the 
 mention of the wellknnwn fact, sir, and that, says the jury and the 
 people, is cause enough for the act. Pshaw ! such things don't happen 
 in America, except in story book'^. Don't you .see the absurdity of 
 the ihi g, " (looking at Webb sternly,) "and 1 believe that there is at 
 lea'^t one man alive who could tell all about Harvey Malcolm's death " 
 
 (Darrell pauses, Webb sits working his fingers nervously on the arm 
 of his chair, profoundly agitated ) 
 
 Webb. " You talk of this painful subject in defiant e of me. If, 
 then, I am compelled to hear you. for my sake, sir, be brief and rapid." 
 
 Darrell. " Do you think that the verdict of the inquest was right .•'" 
 
 Webb. " I think it folly to doubt it; but, sir, 1 am not interested 
 in your groundless suspicions, nor am I the proper person to receive 
 them. I am a mini.-^ter of the gospel, not an officer of the law." 
 
 Darrell. " Perhaps I may go to a magistrate with my suspicions," 
 (in a slow and measured tone.) "whether I do or not, depends v;ry 
 much on you, Mr. Webb." 
 
 Webb. " Upon me } " 
 
 Darrell. " Upon you. A moment since you heard me say that 
 I believed there was at least one man alive who could tell all about 
 Harvey Malcolm's death. But I can say more than that. I can say 
 with truth, I do say that there are two men alive who knew all about it. 
 and I am one of the two." 
 
 Webb, (faintly.) " What do you mean ? " 
 
 Darrell. " I will tell you." 
 
 (He pauses for breath, and Webb, with a nervous, impatient motion, 
 tells him to go on.) 
 
 Darrell, (slowly, and in a lov/ tone.) " The inquest declared that 
 Harvey Malcolm came to his death on the sixteenth of January. It 
 was, in fact, on the night of the fifteenth, about ten o'clock. 1 know 
 the time, because I was there, and saw the deed." 
 
 Webb (horrified, gasps). " What ! do you mean that Malcolm 
 was — was — " 
 
 Darrell. " Murdered } Yes. Never while I live shall I forget it. 
 I see before me the beautiful Falls of Niagara in the depths of Winter, 
 almost covered with ice. The waters of the great St. Lawrence river 
 gushing through the icicles, adjoining those fearful falls is Goat Island, 
 
DARRELI- 
 
 covered with snow, overlapping the dreadful chasm beneath ; the moon 
 and stars are shining brilliantly. Quite romantic is it not ? Two men 
 are on that Island ; one is Harvey Malcolm, v.-hose pale face I saw as 
 plainly as I now see yours— both men were loud in oath, and alterca- 
 tion—a knife is drawn, a deadlv struggle ensues with differnig advan- 
 tage. Now Harvey Malcolm seems to be the victor, agani the other 
 is 'the master. A cloud passes over the moon, as if to hide as t'were 
 the horrible spectacle that followed. Just as that bright orb agam ap- 
 peared in her resplendent ray. I saw a blow struck, ar.d in the murder- 
 ous conflict Harvey Malcnim came hurling down that death chasm, 
 hurled from life, into eternity." 
 
 WEBli (with great excitement). " And you saw it ? 
 
 Darrell. '■ I saw it. I saw it and I recognized the murderer. 
 
 (Darrell leans forward, grasps the arm of Webb and pronounces 
 these words in a thrilling whisper) : "And ycu are the man .-' ' (W ebb 
 falls back in his chair, moaning and covering his face with his hands.) 
 
 " O God help me ! (iod help me ! " 
 
 (A little bell is heard from R. E . then a knock at door, R. L.) Mrs. 
 Webb partly opens door and says : " Won't you come out to tea with 
 vou'' friend, Edwin ? " 
 
 Wkbb (hu.skily). "No Ida : don't wait." 
 
 (Exit Mrs. Webb ) 
 
 (Webb gets up. paces the floor, weeps.) 
 
 Darrell (smiling). " And what do you say now about my laying 
 this rather remarkable story before a magistrate ? " . 
 
 Webb (cries). 'Don't mock me— don't torture me. Man, devil, 
 whatever you are, have pity on my woe. and do not sit there mocking 
 me. If you wanted to see' me swung to a gallows, why did you tell 
 me of this at all, which I thought was known only to me and my (xod? 
 
 (Webb sits down, wipes the tears from his eyes.j 
 
 Webb. "God knows I did not mean to harm him. I remember 
 that I endeavored to calm him, but after he struck me I was filled with 
 ihe spirit of hell and forgot mv manhood, my ministry, all, all save the 
 desire to have blow for blow. I never meant to strike him, but I was 
 not myself at that mad moment. Oh, Heaven ! how his face has 
 haunted me ever since ! I have had to mask my misery and go among 
 my parishioners and administer consolation when none needed it as I 
 did I have risen in the night, while my dear wife slept and have 
 groaned, and prayed, and wrestled with my sin. But now that the 
 world is to know it, now " 
 
 (Webb bows his head on the table.) "If you have tormented me 
 enoucrh you may leav- me. There is no pity in your face, there is 
 none*in your heart. Leave me, and 1 will try to make my peace with 
 (iod. May He temper the wind to my poor lamb, when she cannot 
 lean on me." 
 
 (Webb raises his head and sees IJarrell still seated.) 
 Webb. " Will vou not leave me ? " 
 
 Darrell. " I have satisfied y-ai, that you are standing on a preci- 
 pice more perilous, than that over which you cast poor Malcolm. I 
 offer you my hand to lead you to safety. Will you accept it ? " 
 Webb " What do you propose ? " 
 
 Darrell. " Be calm and listen to me ; for your hfe depends upon 
 the acquiesence to mv project. I confess to you, that there lives no 
 man more depraved than I, but I have long loved Dora Trent, and 
 vowed that she should be mine. Should I marry her openly, the whole 
 of the Darrell estate will go to mv brother, Stephen For her peace 
 
4 DAKKK.I.L. 
 
 of mind, a marriage ceremony is essential, but that must be a secret 
 one, and the record destroyed. Now, I wish the marriage performed 
 by you, this very night, and at the hour of ten. We will meet you in 
 the church for that purpose. Do you consent ? " 
 
 Webb. '• Man, man ; do you ask me, a minister of God, to commit 
 this shocking sm .-' " 
 
 Darrell. " I wish you to do a certain act, easy to be performed, 
 of no consequence to yourself, or any other in whom you have any 
 interest." 
 
 Webb. " My holy office teaches me to have an interest in the hum- 
 blest of God's people." 
 
 Darrell. " Will you do what I wish ? " 
 
 Webb. " I cannot." 
 
 Darrell. " You can." ■ 
 
 Webb. " I dare not." • 
 
 Darrell (rising). " Either that, or disgrace and the gallows." 
 
 Webb (sinking on one knee before Darrell, clasps his hands). 
 " Have pity on me. Have mercy as you will one day ask ior mercy ! " 
 
 Darrell (pointing to clock). "The clock is about to strike the 
 hour. Decide ere it has ceased striking. I reason no more, you know 
 your fate." (Clock strikes.) 
 
 Webb. (Rises ) " I accede, but God forgive me." 
 
 Darrell. " To-night at ten ! Forget not your promise, for I am 
 not the man to be trifled with. Until then, once more, good night ! 
 Remember ! " 
 
 (Exit Darrell through centre doors.) 
 
 (Webb falls into chair, and as he does so Mrs. Webb enters.) 
 
 Mrs. Webb. " Edwin, Edwin ! Great Heavens, what can have 
 happened.^" (putting her arms round his neck). '-Speak, I beseech 
 you." 
 
 Webb. " My heart is too full for utterance, and my grief over- 
 powers me." 
 
 Mrs. Webb. " Nay, Edwin, speak and unburden yourself to me. 
 Are not your woes, as well as your joys, alike mine to share I " (He 
 leads her to centre of .^tage.) 
 
 Webb. " Oh, Ida, if you knew how I suffer m withholding this the 
 first secret from you. But I cannot speak ; my lips are sealed by a 
 sacred promise. You wish to aid me and you shall 
 
 (Aside.) Surely I do not break my word in what I am about to do. 
 
 (Aloud.) To-night you must come with me to the church and be 
 an unseen witness of a secret marriage I am to perform there — more 
 than that I cannot now tell you, only trust me." 
 
 Mrs. Webb. " I do trust you, Edwin, for I know you would coun- 
 tenance no wrong action, still less aid in one." 
 
 (Slow music.) 
 
 Webb. " This world is full of wickedness and crime, actions are 
 oftimes construed and used to suit the purposes of villany ; you shall 
 help me in this the greatest ordeal of my life. Pray to our divine 
 Father in Heaven, who has ever been our refuge, to strengthen me in 
 this hour of trial." 
 
 Mrs. Webb. " I will, with all my heart and soul." 
 
 (Both clasp hands in prayer.) 
 
ACT 1. 
 
 Scene II. — On Flat. 
 
 Extc7'ior of old-fashifl7icd Gothic Chiircli. Trees on R. and L. En- 
 trances. Stars shining. Full Moon. Lights shoiving through 
 lVindo7vs of Church. 
 
 Enter Joshua Currv. " Well, its just ten o'clock ; a nice time for 
 a decent man like me to be abroad. My wife, bless her old gums and 
 false teeth, is in bed, snoring like beeswax, but the moment I step in 
 she will step out to me ; and if I don't satisfy her with some stirring 
 news, why, she'll give me a w'armer reception than I care for. Noth- 
 ing like matrimony, says the parson. \\'ell. here's to my wife's good 
 health." (Takes a bottle from pocket and drinks.) "I don't exactly 
 like passing by the church at this hour ; my donkey, Neddy, he-awed 
 four times, and Neddy's a philosopher, and that means something. 
 Donkeys should know more than other animals, 'cause they've got 
 their long ears always open. I consider it a compliment to be called a 
 donkey ; my father was the donkiest-looking man in this village, and 
 everyone says I take after him." 
 
 Tony Vilk.s heard singing at R. E.: 
 
 " When I was a crocodyle, as big as a hen, 
 I was the beau of the female and envy of men, 
 
 Ri-t"l. der. ider ol-di-day. 
 I loved a bright female, with sunny-brown hair. 
 Her eyes were like sloes and we kissed on the stairs, 
 Ri-tiil, der. ider ol-di-day. 
 
 (Enters at R. E.) 
 
 Tony. •■ Helloa, friend Curry, my blooming fellow, how goes it .^ " 
 
 Jo.sHUA. " Well, 1 ain't very jolly; I've just come from sitting up 
 with a fellow, and never a word could I get out of him." 
 
 Tony. '• How was that ? " 
 
 Joshua. •' Well, you see the chap was a stiff 'un — a corpse." 
 
 Tony. " Well, tickle my whiskers if that's not real fun. Tell me, 
 Joshua, do you still belong to the ' Never-get-sober ' society ? " 
 
 Joshua. " Well. I now and again take a leetle, just to keep the 
 cobwebs from spoiling my internal regions." 
 
 Tony. " Have you a little by you. old man } " 
 
 Joshua. " Yes ; I never travel without my bottle of eau-de-cologne." 
 
 Tony. •• With your permission, I II just smell the cork ? ' 
 
 Joshua. " All right, old siick-in-the-mud, just put your lips to it." 
 (Hands bottle.) 
 
 Tony. " Here's to you — (drinks). That's Pond's Extract ; oh, it's 
 delightful." 
 
 Joshua. " Tell me some news." 
 
 Tony. *• Well, you know Mrs. Bustlewall } " 
 
 Joshua. " I do." 
 
 Tony. " I'll tell you something.' (Whispers in his ear.) 
 
 Joshua. " No, no ! ha, ha! " 
 
 Tony. "Yes, I assure you." 
 
 (Both laugh heartily.) 
 
 Joshua. " Anything else ? " 
 
 Tony. "No. Yes, there is, though. I'll tell you of a curious thing 
 that happened." (Puts bottle in his pocket.) 
 
 Joshua. "Before you tell me, oblige me with the return of my 
 traveling companion." 
 
 Tony. "Certainly." (Sighs, and returns bottle to Joshua.) "At 
 
about nine o'clock this evening Parson Webb knocked at my door, and 
 seemed very much excited. He asked me for the keys of the church. 
 I thou'.,^ht it so strange that I followed about fifteen minutes later. I 
 climbed up and saw the altar lights lit up." 
 
 Joshua. ' Well, that's strange; my donkey warned me I should 
 hear strange news. Nine o'clock you say. It is now past ten. Let 
 us go round and see what we can." 
 
 Tony. " All right ; come along, old man ; but sing us your donkey 
 song to cheer us on our way." 
 
 Joshua. " Well, here goes — but you must help me with the chorus." 
 
 DONKKY S()N(;. 
 
 " He-aw, he-aw, Jimmerv daw, 
 He-aw, up la, ye — Onekey — 
 He-aw, git along, hammer and tongs. 
 Here comes my precious Donkey. 
 
 If y u ask a girl. 
 
 Of sixteen, to wed. 
 
 And she be fat or Longkey — 
 
 She hits you a kick. 
 
 And says, Dear Nick, 
 
 Get along, you are a Donkey. 
 
 Repeat the question. 
 
 When she's twenty-one, 
 
 When she is plump and able — 
 
 And ten to one. 
 
 If she's a sensible one — 
 
 Donkey is taken in the stable. 
 
 He-aw, he-aw, &c., &c. 
 
 When they've married, 
 
 If the husband's a flirt, 
 
 His wife, she gives him honkey ; 
 
 And, calls him all — 
 
 Kinds of pet names. 
 
 Especially that he's a Donkey. 
 
 The mother-in-law 
 
 Screams, "oh. my," "oh — shaw," 
 
 And spanks him like a Son-key. 
 
 He's put to bed. 
 
 With a broom, he's fed. 
 
 Exactly like my Donkey. 
 
 He-aw, he-aw, &c., &c. 
 
 The man who had, 
 
 Six hundred wives — 
 
 His last one called him " Hon-key " ; 
 
 But between you and me, 
 
 The cat, and the sea — 
 
 I guess he was a Donkey. 
 
 They .say there's a man in the moon. 
 Who lives there, quite Hon-key, 
 His mouth is broad — 
 His ears are long — 
 You bet your life. He's a Donkey. 
 He-aw, he-aw. Sic, &c. 
 
DARRELL. 7 
 
 The swell on his way — 
 Ritrht down Broadway, 
 Winks at a jjirl quite Hon-key. 
 She says with a chuckle. 
 As she wags her new bustle, 
 " Oh ! " Is'nt he a Donkey. 
 
 When a fellow loses in Wall street, 
 He never feels right or hon-key. 
 They say, "give him a Tart " — 
 Oh, he aint smart — 
 He's got the brains of a Donkey. 
 He-aw, he-aw% &c., &c. 
 
 The King of Siam — 
 
 W'hen he was here — 
 
 He fed on stuffed monkey and lager beer. 
 
 But Delmonico made him 
 
 Feel quite hon-key — 
 
 He gave him Cod-liver oil, and pickled Donkey. 
 
 Giger-me-gig, Tickleum tight, 
 Ikey, Pike — Hon-key. 
 Dance from morning until night. 
 And then you'll be a Donkey. 
 
 He-aw, he-aw, Jimmery daw, 
 He-aw, up la, ye — Onekey — 
 He-aw, git along, hammer and tongs. 
 Here comc^ my precious Donkey." 
 
 . (Joshua place> his thumbs to his ears, while Tony bends over with 
 head to Joshua's back, forming a Donkey as they exit R. E., braying.) 
 
 ACT I. 
 
 I Scene III. — Interior of Church. 
 
 Altar on right aisle in centre, with stone pillars. Stained glass win- 
 dcreus on left side. Candles burning on altar, and gas lights attach- 
 ed to pillars. As curtain rises to slow music, Darrell attd wife 
 /cneeling on steps at altar. Parson Webb before them, with hands 
 raised in action of blessing. Behind a pillar, Mrs. Webb, unseen 
 by Darrell and wife. 
 
 Webb. " You are now united in bonds of holy wedlock, and may 
 Heaven bless your union." 
 
 Darrell. " Come, dearest Dcra, our joy is now complete, and 
 our future depends upon ourselves. Good night, Parson Webb." 
 
 (Dora turns and bows. Exit centre aisle Slow music. Mrs. Webb 
 approaches Parson, who opens book resting on altar. Slow music.) 
 
 Webb. " Here is the marriage record. Their signatures you have 
 this night witnessed. Sign yourself now as witness to the marriage. 
 (She signs.) See. now, how I dispose of it. (Webb takes from his 
 pocket a knife and cuts from the book a leaf, which he pastes in the 
 back of the book between two blank leaves, speaking as he does so.) 
 I pledged my word to extract this record. I have done so. But living 
 or dead the record remains. We alone are the sole witnesses of its 
 place of concealment. The time may come when I shall be no more, 
 and justice demands that this record shall be produced. To you, the 
 
8 DAKRK.LI.. 
 
 wife of mv heart, I entrust the sacred mission of bringing it to the 
 light of day when the proper time comes. Here in this sacred spot, 
 your word alone is wanted to make me feel assured that right will be 
 done this young and confiding girl, who has this night entrusted her 
 self to this Darrell." 
 
 Mrs. Webb. " My husband, what you have imparted to me. and 
 what I have seen, convinces me that you have acted right by God and 
 man, and your actions, both of the past and present, will in the course 
 of time be vindicated, and your honor and integrity prove to be un- 
 stained. I have given you my word, and with God's help will sacredly 
 carry it out. Cheer up, Edwin ; the day cometh as well as the dark 
 night." 
 
 (Curtain falls.) 
 
 ACT II. 
 
 .Scene I. — Ante-Room in Darrell Hou.se. 
 
 Tiuen/y years supposed to have elapsed between First and Second Acts. 
 
 (FInter George Washington Columbus, [holding address card,] fol- 
 lowed by Stephen Darrell and Charlotte, R. E.) 
 
 G. W. Columbus. " I'm bery sorry, sah, awful bad sorry, but it am 
 no use. It carnt be did, sah. I'm one of de most obligin ob de color- 
 ed gentlem, but as Mr. Robert Darrell is a dyin, as sartin as de wool 
 is on my nob, why, Mrs. Webb, de housekeeper, will not be seen by 
 nobody, dem is he strict orders. And when de 'specrable folks, dat 
 hab de 'stinguished honor to employ me, me, George Washington Co- 
 lumbus, gib dis chil dem 'struction'^, I carry dem out, to the strict let- 
 ter of de constitu'ion." 
 
 Stephen. " But my g )od man, allow me to observe that — " 
 
 G. W. Columbus. " It am no earthly use to argue de point. I 
 hab respect for you, sah, and de charmin' lady dar. I hab respect for 
 myself, and for ebery one, sah. I nebber quarrel wid nobody, sah. So 
 take back your show card, (offering to return the addrAs card,) and 
 consider dat Mr-. Webb am departed ; because you carn't see her, 
 and dat am pat^dat settles it, dar." 
 
 Stephen. (Aside to Charlotte.) " We must humor this clown.' 
 (Aloud.) " My good man, it gratifies us to find you so devoted to Mr 
 Darrell, and that you so'faithfully carry out the instructions of Mrs 
 Webb ; yet you must admit that there are exceptions to all rules, and 
 our right to be received here, is one of those exceptions. If you have 
 Mrs. Webb's interest at heart, you will go instantly and tell her that a 
 lady and gentleman, great friends of her late husband, have come all 
 the way from the Wc^t expressly to see her, and that we hope she will 
 see us immediately. 
 
 G. W. Columbus. " All bery nice, but it won't wash, sah. 1 neb- 
 ber quarrel wid nobody. One tiine I had a big row, and a fight la«t 
 " pan-cake " Tuesday, wid Joshua and Tony — which had de effect of 
 puttin sense into my cranium, for eber. Dese gentleum war arguin, 
 before dis chil. Day said — dat dar was a supertluxity, yah, yah, dat's 
 de word — a superfluxity ob white women, ober de white men, in dis 
 country. I said dat's not strange, cans dar am more colored men den 
 colored shemales. What are you goin to do about it, said dey. Well, 
 said I, de only way to equalize dem, is to let de superfluxity of de white, 
 marry de superfluxity of de colored. And for de 'spression of my 
 'pinion, dey made of my ns'V stove pipe Topper, a pan-cake right off; 
 
DAkRKII,. 9 
 
 den hey hoisted me into de ribber, dey gently hauled me out wid a 
 pitch-fork ; dey kicked dis confidin' chil from one end of de village to 
 de church yard, and flopped me into a new made grave — den dey bled 
 me. 
 
 Stephen. " Oh, this was outrageous conduct. They actually bled 
 you, you say ? " 
 
 G. W. Columbus. " Yes, sah-ree — dey put ten leaches on one side 
 of mv nose, and elebsn on de other side ; den dey gabe me another 
 lickin', and said dey would repeat de dose de next day, and said I was 
 to be sure to come." 
 
 Stephen. '■ Did you keep the appointment.^ " 
 
 G. W. .Columbus. "Not if de kourt knows herself. No, sah, 
 when I spy dem comin', I skedaddle mighty quick. I tank my mudder 
 and my fader for dese legs dat can run ms out ob danger, sah, and 
 from dat time George Washington Columbus nsbber quarrels wid 
 nobody." 
 
 Charloite. •• And you are quite right. But I know you will not 
 refuse me. (Patting him on the back.) You are too good natured. 
 Now go and deliver our message to Mrs. Webb. She will thank you, 
 and you will not regret obliging us. Now, that's a dear man, don't 
 refus;. Here is soni2thing towards buying your sweetheart a new 
 dress, there." (Offers him money.) 
 
 G. W. Columbus. (Grinnins^.) " Neber has it been proved dat a 
 colored gentkuTi hab been bribed before dar face, nor am I de 'ception 
 of de rule ob three. (Turns his back to her and takes the money.) 
 But dere am somethin' so psrsuable in your lobley face dat goes trew 
 me like de oyster goes trew de eye of de camamile, and de color'd gen- 
 tium are allays e.xtinguishad for dar lub of de slender sex. My fader 
 was sent up, for de marrin" three of deni at de one time ; but I'll do 
 my awful best for your sake. If even I lose de place, I shall do so in 
 de cause of de female ginger, and die de death of de Martha." 
 
 (Exit left entrance.) 
 
 Ch.\rlotte. "All mankind is alike; all have their price from the 
 Kin^ to the beggar. Oh. gold, gold, you are the motive power that 
 moves the world. Without you all is darkness, with you is light ; yes, 
 light everlasting." 
 
 Stephen. " Well said, my girl. It is the truth, and none but fools 
 could say otherwise. Well have you read and studied human nature. 
 With gold, knowledge and health, we can get along very well in this 
 world ; as for the hereafter, let's leave that for philosophers ; here we 
 know our lot ; the balance is a mere speculation — too mysterious for 
 our calculation. (In altered tone.) Now, m^ child, we are prepared 
 for a blank refusal for admittance here. You know our task by heart; 
 therefore play your part as we have rehearsed it, and we will overcome 
 all her scruples ; when once we have a foothold in this house, we will 
 secure the rest." 
 
 Charlotte. "Have no fear of m;, dear father, or of my words. 
 All I utter is well weighed beforehand. I will give you no cause for 
 fault finding, rest assured. If this place does not become our residence 
 henceforth, it will indeed be oar fault. Your trip to New York was 
 well repaid. Besides learning of the antecedents of Parson Webb — ■ 
 from childhood to manhood — you most opportunely met that good 
 natured acquaintance, who taking you for your brother, advanced you 
 money, which you mcreased by a lucky chance in Wall street, thus 
 enabling u5 to assuiij the role of retired gentility, at least while the 
 money lasts. (Lojkin^ to laft entrance.) I see her coming; now for 
 our efforts." 
 
lO DARRKLI.. 
 
 (Enter Mrs. Webb. Who bows. Stephen and Charlotte cordially 
 return same. Mrs. Webb eyes Stephen — and starts.) 
 
 Mrs. Webb. (Aside.) "What a wonderful resemblance, but no." 
 (Aloud.) I have come to learn what is the urgent business you so 
 earnestly wish to see me about. Your name is Mr. Stephen, and this 
 young lady is — " 
 
 Stephen. "My daughter, Charlotte. (Both ladies bow.) I am 
 aware, Mrs. Webb, how you are situated here, and how your time is 
 engrossed in your duties towards Mr. Darrell. I will therefore be as 
 brief as possible." 
 
 Mr.s. Webb. " I beg of you to be so. I cannot be spared from 
 Mr. Darrell's side. It grieves my heart to say that he is on his death 
 bed." 
 
 Stephen. (Affected.) " Don't say that ; oh, don't .say that. While 
 there is life there is hope." 
 
 Charlotte. (Wiping her eyes.) "Ah! this world indeed is full 
 of trouble, but there yet may be some chance, let us hope, for his 
 recovery." 
 
 Mrs. Webb. " I fear for the worst ; but don't detain me any long- 
 er than you can possibly help." 
 
 Stephen. " Madam, years ago I was your husband's dearest friend. 
 By a cruel father's decree, for some boyish fault, I was discarded by 
 my father, and turned adrift on the cold world. I was penniless and 
 knew not were to turn for help. I strolled towards the sea shore, and 
 there abstractively gazed on the mighty waters. It was fate that 
 brought me there — the foaming waves were mountains high. I held 
 my breath with horror as I saw a small helpless craft, vainly struggling 
 in the trough of the breakers, trying to approach the shore. My eyes 
 were rivited to the spot. I saw the little boat rise and fall, now on 
 the crest of the mighty wave, now submerged. So it rose and fell. A 
 boy was clinging to the broken mast. In a moment as it were, the 
 boat capsized, and there struggling in the water was this boy. Quick 
 as thought I dashed mto the raging sea, and brought the senseless boy 
 safely to shore, at the hazard of my own life. That boy was after- 
 wards your husband." 
 
 Mrs. Webb. " Sir, you amaze me. I cannot, will not, doubt you. 
 Stranger as you are, your recital thrills me with admiration for your 
 courage, and I shall always feel towards you inexpressible gratitude, 
 for it was 'noble humanity, and not selfish interest, that prompted your 
 action. Poor indeed that I am, for it does not lie in my power, even 
 to extend to you hospitality. I am but housekeeper here, and Mr. 
 Stephen, I — I — " 
 
 Stephen. " Madam, providentially, it does lie in your power to 
 serve me, and by doing so, you will bless this day that has brought us 
 in contact with each other, and you will more than compensate me for 
 all the good I ever did your husband." 
 
 Mrs. Webb. " Tell me how I can render you a service ? " 
 
 Stephen. " Madam, I told you how I was discarded by my father. 
 He had two sons. I was the elder one. To the youngest he left all 
 his wealth and possessions. I did not envy my brother, or his gold. 
 I was ever high-spirited and self-reliant. I assumed another name and 
 worked and toiled along, enduring all kinds of hardships. Yes ; some- 
 times even wanting bread. But nothing daunted me ; still I worked 
 until the tide. Dame Fortune, turned in my favor, and I became as I 
 am a man of considerable means." 
 
 Mrs. Webb. " I rejoice to learn this." 
 
 Stephen. " Madam, sordid motives I have none. The gain of 
 
.e^old is not my aim, it is the ambition to return to the home of my 
 father, there to have a reconciliation with my brother from whom 
 I have been so long estranged ; and you, madam, and only you, can 
 bring this about." 
 
 Mrs. Wehu. " I — . I — . It cannot be, you surely are not — "' 
 Stephfa'. "Stephen Darrell, madam, at your service, and this is 
 my child.'" '« 
 
 (Mrs. Webb is about to speak when Charlotte approaches her.) 
 
 Charlotte. "Yes; both of us are humbly standing before you, 
 supplicating for your influence and entreating you to grant our admis- 
 sion and lodgement beneath this roof." 
 
 Mrs. Webr. " No, no, no, it cannot be." 
 
 Charlotte. "Oh, turn not a deaf ear to our prayer. My father 
 did not do so, when in years past he saved your husband's life. Let 
 me plead for my father to your womanly heart. Let me. the child, aid 
 you in your task, to do what we can while there is yet life ; to make, 
 if it is the will of Heaven, the reclining huurs of Robert Darrell's life, 
 pass away in peace, with his brother, and all the world." 
 
 Mrs. Webb. I dare not grant your request. The command of 
 Rob3rt Darrell is paramount to all considerations. He has sworn nev- 
 er to be reconciled to his brother. Were I to mention he was here, 
 the shock would kill him. No, you must leave. You must depart at 
 once. My dutv is the sword that severs all feeling of sentiment, and — " 
 
 Charlotte. " Madam, surely your heart is above the sword of 
 vengeance. Don't turn us away. It is not Robert Darrell's gold that 
 attracts us. It is our better nature. It is the ties of blood, the prompt- 
 ings of our hearts that brings us here. (Weeps.) If Robert Darrell's 
 mandate excludes his (with emotion) own brother from his presence, 
 let us be. at least under his roof, so that when his spirit is called away, 
 his brother may clasp Robert's hand in death, kneel by his death bed, 
 and supplicate for mercy and his brother's soul's repose. To the foun- 
 tain of forgiveness our duty will then be done, and we will depart in 
 pea':e." 
 
 Mrs. Webb. " Dry your eyes. Miss Charlotte, your feeling words 
 have touched my very soul, and on one condition I consent to your 
 both remaining here. It is, that you. Mr. Stephen, will faithfully 
 promise never to enter your brother's room or presence while he lives." 
 
 Stephen. "Madam, I give you my sacred promise, and as a gen- 
 tleman and man of honor I will keep my word." 
 
 (Mrs. Webb goes to left entrance and rings a bell. Enter servant.) 
 
 Mrs. Webb. " Conduct this lady and gentleman to the left wing — 
 the two rooms, one on the right and the other to the left of the right 
 corridor." 
 
 Servant. " This way if you please." (E.Kit left.) 
 , Stephen. " Please accept my heartfelt thanks — " 
 
 Mrs. Webb "Enough, sir; I have accepted the responsibility, 
 and I hopa I shall not regret it." 
 
 Charlotte. " You will find out very soon that you will not, dear 
 Mrs. Webb. I am no boaster, nor talker, but a doer. I am used to 
 tending the sick, and to me it is a pleasure to relieve their ailments. 
 You will find that I will lighten your responsibility and not increase it, 
 and I will aid you with all womanly tenderness and devotion to allevi- 
 ate his sufferings. It will be a work of love to me, which I will per- 
 form with all my heart, feeling that in so doing, that I am acting for 
 my father as Will as for myself, and you will learn to love me, oh, I 
 knovvyou will. (Taking Stephen's arm and going toward left entrance.) 
 
Do not forg-et. dear Mrs. Webb, day or night I am always at your 
 service." (Exit Stephen and Charlotte left.) 
 
 Mrs. Webb. (Walks towards right entrance.) "Can I have done 
 wrong ? Will their acts belie their words .-' Have I foolishly admitted 
 enemies into this house, or contrite friends ? Surely I am not deceiv- 
 ed ? I will however be on my guard. To protect Dora's welfare I 
 would gladly sacrifice my life. Well, I have done what I thought to 
 be right, and I will hope for the best. Ah ! my poor husband. To all 
 the world he is given out as dead. Ever since he performed Robert Dar- 
 rell's marriage his senses left her seat of reason. He is under Dr. Sr. 
 Clair's charge, and even I am excluded from seeing him. Will he 
 ever be restored to sanity .'' Oh, how I miss his dear presence ; my 
 days are indeed eternal darkness without him." (Exit right.) 
 
 ACT II. 
 
 ScF.NF. II. — On Flat. 
 
 Same sCi'itf as exterior of Church seen in Act I. 
 
 (Enter Joshua, L. E., and Tony, R. E., hurriedly.) 
 
 Joshua. "Well met, friend Tony; how's your constitution to-day.^" 
 
 Tony. " Oh, tollolish ! You seem to love prowling around these 
 quarters, hey .■^ " 
 
 Joshua. "Well, you see, I come here for two reasons: first lie, I 
 have four loving and affectionate wives, bless their old gums, sleeping 
 peacefully in the sod here, all aturmng up their forty toes together. 
 .Second lie. I come here because I love to commune with my spirit 
 alone. (Shows bottle.) Your health. Tony." (Drinks and sighs ) 
 
 Tony. " Look here, Joshua, I object. Drink your own health, if 
 you like, but let me swallow mine myself." (Snatches bottle and 
 drinks.) 
 
 Joshua. " I never come here but what I think of the late Rev. 
 Mr. Webb, and what we saw twenty years ago. How we were caught 
 by his reverence, and how he made us swear never to tell a living soul 
 until we should be called upon to do so. Ah, he was indeed a really 
 good, kind parson." 
 
 ( Both wipe eyes with handkerchief. ) 
 
 Joshua. " Pas 'son — why, I made a |>un." (Laughs heartily.) 
 
 Tony. " Well, since I'm a gardener and you a tailor by profession, 
 I think it in keeping for me to say, only a pa's snip could pun on such 
 a serious matter. But what's the news at the hall .-' " 
 
 Joshua. " Everything there is as gloomy as a belle without abeau, 
 as handsome as myself ; or an alderman deprived of his grub — a law- 
 yer withou a client — a doctor without a patient — or a cat without a 
 tail." 
 
 Tony. " Ha, ha, you don't say so I What a graphic description I" 
 
 Joshua. " Yes, it's all a conglomeration. Mrs. Webb has been 
 over-persuaded, and without Robert Darrell's knowledge. There's 
 Miss Darrell and her villainous-lo )king father, as the nearest relatives, 
 installed in the house, looking upon themselves, already monarchs of 
 all they survey, counting the minutes for the haopy time to come when 
 old Robert Darrell will be measured for his coffin. There's young Dr. 
 St. Clair, in love with Miss D )ra, and she with him; dear, good girl. 
 Ah, she'll soon receive her walking papers, when the old man waltzes 
 out of this life. Then there's the lavv/er, altering and re-altering the 
 will ; and finally, there's respectable Mrs. Webb, doing her duty to the 
 
DARRF.Ll.. 13 
 
 dying- man and getting no peace for her pains ; rushing here, there 
 and everywhere like a baa lamb, in a slaughter-house, surrounded by 
 butchers on all sides." 
 
 TONV. " Well, I never ! It's none of our business, as long as they 
 don't actually wallop Mrs. Webb ; let them fight it out themselves, 
 say I." 
 
 Joshua. " Friend Toby, your philosophy is good. It's scrumpous 
 — it's galvanizing and convincing. As long as they don't tread on our 
 corns, let's keep up our spirits by pouring them down. As the boot- 
 black said to the poet, ' our time will come when we both polish uii 
 the understandings of mankind.' Come along, snip." 
 
 Tony. " Arm in arm, my pumpkin, no trouble we'll borrow." 
 
 Jo.SHUA. " Let's live to-day. with no care for to-morrow." 
 
 (Exit both.) 
 
 ACT 11.— ScKXK III. 
 DrawiniT Room in Darrell House, simiptuously furnished . 
 
 (Charlotte reading ; her father standmg by her chair.) 
 
 Stephen. " Put away that book, I want to talk to you, my girl." 
 
 Charloite. " Yes, father, and I to you." 
 
 Stephen. (Seatmg himself by her side.) "We have been here 
 but a day, and the moment draws nigh when all will be ours to enjoy. 
 When all our cares, and an.xieties for the future, will have become a 
 thing of the past. Yet my child. I have my fears. Dark spectres 
 hover round me, as harbingers of ponderous obstacles in our path. It 
 does not go as smoothly as 1 could have wished, and I seem to lack 
 the courage to battle with the emergencies of the time. We must and 
 shall succeed. Mark me, child, by fair means or foul. It is with us. 
 a battle of life and death. Everlasting joys, or on the other hand, un- 
 told misery. Tell me what course we shall pursue? " 
 
 (Both rise and come to centre of stage.) 
 
 Charloite. " Yes, my father, you speak truly. It is brain, cour- 
 age and resolution ; yes. and duplicity, if you will, that s'nall carry us 
 through this ordeal. I would rather death itself, than endure the mis- 
 eries both of us have struggled with so long. Can you wonder that I 
 am ambitious ? When the same mother conceived you as Robert 
 Uarrell, what save the accident of prior birth, that gave him the right 
 to usurp and hold this vast estate. (Crosses to right and approaches 
 him hastily.) Your hatred of him is well founded, and the same flame 
 permeates my whole being towards him. I remember when a child, 
 you took me to see the play of ' Macbeth.' The very embodiment of 
 Lady Macbeth's character liv^es within myself, and the courage that 
 you lack, father, I possess. I have told you of my deep love for Frank 
 St. Clair. Would you believe it father, he now spurns me for that 
 unsophisticated country girl, Uora Trent } Let us once gain what we 
 are striving for, and my ambition alike with my revenge will be satis- 
 fied." (Crosses to left.) 
 
 Stephen. "Our plans are w'ell laid; our spy informs us of every 
 movement. Nothing occurs, but we are cognizant of it. The lawyer 
 is at this moment with Robert, but I am excluded from the sick room. 
 Will he make a will, and if so, what then ? Speak, my child ! " 
 
 (Charlotte crosses towards right, as if meditating, then turns sud- 
 denly to Stephen, in centre, and speaks in measured tones.) 
 
 Charlotte. " You have asked me, father for my plans. Already 
 
H IiARRF.I.L. 
 
 I have gained the partial confidence of Mrs. Webb ; so much so, as to 
 permit me to enter the sick chamber to tend and wait on the dying 
 man. Oh, trust in my cunning to play the winning card I Should 
 there be a will, you ask what will be done with it ? Father, what 
 would you do. were you to encounter a reptile in your path, from which 
 there was no escape.' You would destroy it forever, as I've sworn to 
 do with that will, and then without that, who but ourselves are heirs ? 
 in the meantime, let us dissemble, flatter and supplicate, so as to de- 
 ceive our enemies ; the better afterward to repay in their own coin the 
 scorn and insults we have endured. Hark I I hear some one coming. 
 Leave me, father ! We must not be seen conversing too much to- 
 gether." 
 
 (Crosses to table and takes up book.) 
 
 Stephen. " Right, my girl, we are the plotters now, like all man- 
 kind, determined to gain the mountain top of our ambition. You look 
 charming, my child, exquisite, alike in dress and feature, you have well 
 expended our borrowed funds. Appearance is everything. (Kisses 
 her.) Come to my room as soon as possible, and there I will unfold 
 to you a scheme you little dream of." 
 
 (Exit Darrell, left entrance.) 
 
 (Charlotte rises as St. Clair enters from R. E. Bows, which he re- 
 turns.) 
 
 St. Clair. " I beg pardon. Miss Darrell, I hope I do not intrude.-* 
 I merely came for a book I left here last evening." 
 (Both approach centre.) 
 
 Charlotte. "You need not apologize. Mr. St. Clair — I mean 
 Frank. Your presence is always a pleasure to me. Yes, I confess a 
 happiness, and I rejoice once again to have the opportunity of speak- 
 ing to you alone. (3h, Frank, do not turn coldly from me. If I am 
 too bold, I am but a woman, and trite sincerity and unalloved love 
 know no mask." 
 
 St. Clair. " I regret your words. Do you not realize. Miss Dar- 
 rell, that it will be better for botlj of us — for you certainly, to pass no 
 more than the common civilities nf life, while we are under the same 
 roof .-^ " 
 
 Charlotte. (Pleadingly.) " Oh, Frank, Frank ! I beg of you to 
 recall those cruel words. I must speak out. I will not check my 
 feelings. I wish you to understand that all obstacles are removed 
 since I wrote you that foolish letter of rejection of your suit. (He 
 turns from her coldly, folding his arms ; she crosses and faces him, 
 folding her arms, speaks eagerly.) I tell you, Frank St. Clair, that you 
 are either stupid or heartless (relenting) ; why do you not turn to me, 
 with true love beaming from your eyes, and hasten to tell me that 
 what I say rejoices you .•' " 
 
 St. Clair. (Calmly and coldly.) " Because it does not ; because. 
 Miss Darrell, I feel no interest in you that I do not feel in most of 
 Ciod's creatures. Miss Darrell, I fell into an ugly error in thinking that 
 I loved you, and gladly took the chance you gave me to extricate mv- 
 self. I shall not err again." 
 
 Charlotte. (Raising her voice, and laying her hand on his arm ) 
 " Do not talk so. You cannot understand me ; I must speak plainly. 
 All this property is to be mine. Man, man ! don't kill me with cold- 
 ness ; tell me now what you wrote me first, and I will ask you to share 
 it with me. I cannot help saying this, it is because I love you. (Cov- 
 ers her face.) 
 
 St. Clair. " Miss Darrell, I am sorry for you. Yes. from my very 
 
DARRKI.I.. 15 
 
 soul, I am sorry : for I never could be happy with you. I tell you 
 frankly, my life would be a misery, were it allied with yours. In noth- 
 ing do we assimilate. Therefore, for your own sake forget me. I am 
 betrothed to a good and noble girl, and the past must be eradicated 
 from your memory, as it is from mine. Henceforth, Miss Darrell, I 
 shall be pleased to meet you, but remember, only as friends, and if 
 that will not content you. I prefer as strangers. Good night. Miss 
 Darrell." (Bows, and exit R. U. E. Charlotte clutching chair. Rain 
 falls and flash of lightning.) 
 
 Charlotte. •' He leaves me just as he would recoil from a vene- 
 mous reptile. Welcome, thou storm : well do you suit the workings 
 of my soul ! He despises me ; he never loved m^. I have been fool- 
 ish and incautious, but it shall not happen again. I covet two objects. 
 Frank St. Clair is the least of them. Him I can do without, Darrell 
 Farm I cannot. There will be some heart pain about it, but woman 
 is ever made to suffer. I will conquer it. and think only of what 
 brought me here. With this end in view, oh, woman's heart be still. 
 (Laughs hysterically. Peal of thunder.) Ye elements of destruction, 
 hear this my vow, Dora Trent shall yet be a supplicant at my feet, 
 when Darrell House is mine." 
 
 (Curtain falls.) 
 
 ACT ill. 
 
 SCKNF. I. — Bf.droom ok Kokkrt Darrki.i.. 
 
 Before curtain rises tJn'citic in darkness, cinire/i ehor(uis heard sing- 
 intr from behind scene. 
 
 " Hear our prayer as Darrell dies. 
 Take him to thy heavenly skies. 
 Forgive his sins as we hope to be forgiven. 
 Take him to thy realms in heaven.'" 
 
 (Curtain rises.) 
 (R. Darrell, half reclining on couch, pillows propping him up. .'\t 
 foot of couch, a large mirror, half facing audience, calcium thrown on 
 his ghastly face. At head of couch, large screen, portable curtains on 
 cornice, over couch, drawn back. Fire burning brightly in grate. 
 Large glass window in flat, from which is seen church, lit up. Kneel- 
 ing behind screen, in a listening attitude, unseen by characters, is 
 Charlotte. At foot of couch, Dora and Frank ; back of couch. Mrs. 
 Webb, and seated beside Robert Darrell is Lawyer Scruggs, pointing 
 to will. Tableau as curtain rises.) 
 
 Lawyer. " I have made the formal beginning, Mr. Darrell, of the 
 will. Now, please tell me in your own way, who is to have the pro- 
 perty, and in what proportions .•* " 
 
 Darrell. " Yes, yes ; I understand. Mrs. Webb, dear, good soul, 
 has told me that it will all go to my hated brother Stephen, if I do not 
 make one. My life has been a curse to myself and the world at large. 
 But Stephen has been a disgrace to his family, and his crimes call for 
 vengeance. Never shall these domains be his or any of his kin. I 
 give it all, all to one alone, and that one Dora Trent." 
 
 Lawyer. " All of you present do witness that Robert Darrell is of 
 sound mind, and knowing that his end draws nigh, makes his final 
 will and testament. Therefore, at his request, I insert the name. (He 
 goes to table and writes.) 
 
l6 DARkKr.I,. 
 
 St. Clair ( side to Dora). •' Darling, you said you were an or- 
 phan, alone in this world, with none to care for you save Mrs. Webb ; 
 heaven has not forgotten you " 
 
 Dora. " I cannot understand it, dear Frank ; what can I have 
 done to merit this good fortune ? " 
 
 St. Clair. "For ten years you have tended and watched at his 
 side, as only a daughter could do, and hence your reward ; accept it in 
 gratitude and in quietude." 
 
 Mrs. Wf.bh (aside to Dora). " Yes, accept gratefully and without 
 comment, the reason will one day be made clear." 
 
 Lawyer. " Here is the will complete, with the name of Dora in- 
 serted as sole legatee, and Mrs. Webb as sole executrix, and drawn as 
 strongly as legal pen could make it." 
 
 Darrell. "Good, good; give me the pen, quick. 1 feel my 
 .strength failing, and the sand^ of life ebbing fast. The pen — quick — 
 the pen." 
 
 (Lawyer hands him the pen; Mrs. Webb supports him, aided by St. 
 Clair. Dora stands in amazement. Lawyer guides his hand. ) 
 
 Darrelf,. " It is signed — signed. I feel happy." (Falls back ex- 
 hausted.) 
 
 Lawyer. " Miss Dora, attend Mr. Darrell, please ; and you, Mrs. 
 Webb and I^r. St. Clair, witness this last will and testament of Robert 
 Darrell. (They sign.) Now, Mrs. Webb, into your hands I deliver 
 this will. Keep it safely, I conjure you. Everything is in proper order 
 and contesting is quire impossible. Miss Dora, to you, at least, Robert 
 I3arrell has proved himself a benefactor." (Exit L. E.) 
 
 Darrell. (Rousing himself, in a loud voice.) "Give me the will. 
 (Mrs. Webb places it in his hands.) My eyes are somewhat dim. It's 
 all right, it's all right. My heart feels lighter than it has for years, for 
 I have done an act of justice. Place it, place the will under my pillow 
 until death has claimed me for his own. (Mrs. Webb places it under 
 his pillow.) There; I feel better now, and stronger too. Leave me. 
 all of you, except Mrs. Webb." 
 
 St. Clair. " Come, dearest l>3ra, let us obey his wish. We will 
 retire to the ante-room, so as to be near when wanted." (Exit by 
 door behind mirror. ) 
 
 Darrell. " Mrs. Webb, you have served me well and faithfully. 
 You will find in my writing desk, in the study, in the right-hand drawer, 
 an envelope addressed to yourself, containing the deed of the little par- 
 sonage, making it all vour own, and something besides, which you will 
 prize far more, namely, my confession, attested by witnesses, to the 
 effect that Harvey Malcolm's death was purely accidental, for I wit- 
 nessed It, thus establishing the innocence of your husband." 
 
 Mr.s. Wkhb. " Heaven will reward you for your act of justice to 
 my husband in thus clearing him from guilt. How can I ever repav 
 you for your kindness to me." 
 
 Darrell. " By being in the future, as you have in the past, ever 
 a mother to Dora. Go and do my bidding. I wish to be alone." 
 
 (Exit Mrs. Webb, L. E.) 
 
 (Slow music. Chalotte comes from behind screen, goes towards 
 ante-room, listens, quietly removes bell, and as she does so, Darrell 
 opens his eyes and sees her reflected in mirror. She steps to the head 
 of couch and e.xtracts will. Darrell rises and clutches her arm.) 
 
 Darrell. "Women! fiend! monster! I recognise you! You 
 are the cursed child of my hated brother ! Living, he sought to despoil 
 me, and now in the throes of death ; you, devil that you are, would rob 
 the rightful heir. Help ! help ! I say !" 
 
DARRKLL. 1 7 
 
 (Darrell holds her fast and springs from couch just as she drops will 
 in grate fire.) "Murderess ! help !" (She clutching him by throat. He 
 falls exhausted on couch and music stops. Enter Mrs. Webb, Dora 
 and Frank, who rush towards couch and look at Charlotte.) 
 
 Charlotte. " I entered just in time to see the poor man raving 
 in madness before the fire, in which he would have hurled himself, had 
 it not been for my timely presence." 
 
 Darrell. (Huskily.) "Liar! Remove her from my sight I Mur- 
 deress ! " 
 
 Charlotte. " You see, he raves again." 
 
 Frank. " Stand aside, madam. I demand, nay, I insist. If you 
 will not, I shall be compelled to use force." 
 
 Charlotte. (Steps aside.) " I obey; attend to the maniac." 
 
 Darrell. " Maniac I am not, although she nearly bereft me of 
 reason. Come here, Dora Trent. You are near me child, you are my 
 child, my own daughter, born in lawful wedlock. Bear witness, all of 
 you, to these words, the words of a dying man. My eyes grow dim." 
 
 Dora. "Father! father!" (Embracing him.) 
 
 (Slow music.) 
 
 Darrell. " I — I cannot see you, child, but I feel your balmy breath 
 fanning my cheek, and I see before me your angel mother. Oh, forgive 
 me ! forgive me, my child ! The will — the will — is by — that — murder- 
 ess — " (Falls back dead.) 
 
 (Music stops.) 
 
 Frank. (Feeling his heart.) " All is over." 
 
 (The curtains are drawn across the death couch of Robert Darrell, 
 while the following dirge is sang from without. All kneel, except 
 Charlotte, who stands and looks triumphantly.) 
 " Death on the wing does fiy — 
 Father, lake his soul on high — 
 Forgive him, as we hope to be forgiven, 
 And seal him in thy realms in heaven." 
 
 Mr.s. Webb. (Affectionately consoling Dora, who is weeping.) 
 " My daughter, 1 know you feel your grief deeply, and it is but natural 
 that you should, darling child ; nevertheless, we know that your father 
 is now relieved from all earthly affliction, and that the will of Heaven 
 must be done. May his soul rest in peace." 
 
 Dora. " Ah, dear mother, your kind words are indeed consoling. 
 (Weeps.) But a moment ago, I was clasped in my father's repentant 
 and loving arms, now he lies dead. Oh. it is too horrible ; my heart 
 is indeed bowed down with grief and woe. It is like a fearful dream." 
 
 Mrs. Webb. " Yes, all our lives, aye. the longest is but a transient 
 dream. In the morning we bloom, and in the evening, we wither, de- 
 cay, and die." 
 
 St. Clair. " Darling, all is done for the best, and let us think so. 
 It is far better that your father is dead, than to live and be a misery to 
 himself." 
 
 " Of every earthly joy, full long bereft, 
 For him no earthly hope was left. 
 But dearer hopes, and joys, to him are given. 
 The hope thai faileth not, the joys of Heaven." 
 "Be consoled dearest, I shall always be with you, to cheer and protect 
 you." 
 
 Charlotte. (With snearing laugh.) "Enough of this mockery. 
 You have played your parts remarkably well — but we are not on the 
 
iS i.)AKi<i:i.i.. 
 
 stage — this is real life. So off with your masks, they disgrace you. 
 My uncle, Robert Darrell, is dead ; long enough has he lived, and too 
 long have you all been unworthy pensioners of his bounty. His course 
 of life is now run out. He had no child, no issue. He made no will ; 
 therefore my father, be it known, Stephen Darrell, is the sole heir, and 
 Darrell estate is solely his." 
 
 (Enter hastily from U. E.. Stephen, approaching Charlotte, i 
 
 SiKFHKN. " Well, child, well.- " 
 
 Charuti TK. (Exultingly.) " Robert Darrell is dead, and you, my 
 father, are sole heir to this vast estate. Bow all of you, to the master 
 of Darrell House." 
 
 Mrs. Wkhb. (Angrily.) "Cease yonr rejoicings, this is neither 
 the time nor place for them. Stephen Darrell is not the heir." 
 
 Charlotte. " If he is not, prove testimony to the contrary." 
 
 Mrs. Webb. "Be it so; we will adjourn to the Drawing-room, 
 there to hear the reading of the will." 
 
 Stephen. (Aside to Charlotte.) "The will? What does she 
 mean ? " 
 
 Chari.oii'e. (Aside to her father.) " Fear nothing, father: I say 
 you are master, and you alone. (Aloud to Mrs. Webb.) \'ery well, 
 madam, we will attend you, and after that meeting is over, vou can 
 attend elsewhere, and never more darken the doors of Darrell House." 
 
 (Stephen and Charlotte exit R. E. Dora, supported by Frank, and 
 Mrs. Webb, exit L. E.) 
 
 ACT in.— Scene II. 
 Drawiiii^-rooin in Darrell House, handsomely furnished. 
 
 (A table in centre, at which Lawyer S. is seated, Mrs. Webb by him. 
 Stephen and Charlotte enter at L. C. ; Dora and Frank at R. C, fol- 
 lowed by guests. Music as characters enter; which stops as .Stephen 
 speaks.) 
 
 Stephen. " Well, we are here, at your request, to hear the will 
 read ; if there be any, produce it ; if not, I want you to quit this house, 
 bag and baggage." 
 
 Mrs. Webb. "There was a will, drawn up by Lawyer Scruggs, 
 witnessed by Dr. .St. Clair and myself, making Dora sole legatee. We 
 left the room at the dying man's request, but were almost immediately 
 recalled by the piteous cries of the expiring man, and found Miss Darrell 
 clutching his throat, as if in deadly struggle. The will had been placed 
 by me under Robert Darrell's pillow, but after his death it could not 
 be found. There remains not a doubt in our minds that Miss Darrell 
 destroyed it." 
 
 Chareoite. (Rising excitedly.) "Despicable woman I Who is 
 to believe such an impious assertion .-' Your brain is well set to work, 
 and your machinations likewise. The idea ! To palm off this found- 
 ling, this pauper, this nobody, as the heiress of these estates. It is a 
 very good scheme, cunningly imagined, but you reckon without your 
 host, and your designing treachery has failed, as it deserves. You are 
 unsupported by any evidence, save the wanderings and ravings of a 
 dying maniac. What court of justice would believe the paid hireling, 
 and perhaps, if the truth were known, the mistress of Robert Darrell. 
 (Frank and the Lawyer attempt to quiet her.) Keep down your ire, 
 for when a usurper seeks to defraud the owners, truthful words should 
 be unvarnished and unmeasured, thus stamping the perpetrator, as a 
 
JIARRKI.I,. 19 
 
 liar and a thief, wiio, by htr foul assertions, would stigmatise the dead 
 and despoil the living." 
 
 Lawyer. '• I pray you, Mrs. Webb, refrain from answering her 
 foul imputations. Your character is too well known, and you are es- 
 teemed too highly by all who know you, to be polluted by a word of 
 calumny. I myself know that your assertions are the truth, and I am 
 here to establish Dora Darrell in her rightful possession of her father's 
 estate. You said you had witnesses ; if so, will you produce them at 
 once. Before going any farther, I must insist on quietude and a fair 
 hearing to all who have to speak in this matter. Not alone in my ca- 
 pacity of solicitor, but as magistrate of this district."' 
 
 SlKPHKN. " Produce her witnesses. (Scornfully.) Who can she 
 produce .-' -Can she bring forward the marriage certificate? If so, let 
 her do it. Oh. we are willing to give these pretenders all the rope they 
 require ; the longer, the better, so that with the portion of it unused, 
 they may have sufficient to hang themselves and their trumped up 
 witnesses." 
 
 (Mrs. Webb touches i)cll. l-jiter servant.) 
 
 Mrs. Wki;i!. "Call in Joshua Curry and Tony X'ilks." dixit 
 servant.) 
 
 Law\ KR. " Now, Mrs. Webb, I wish to hear any evidence that you 
 can offer to establish Dora as the true and lawful daughter of Robert 
 Darrell, deceased." 
 
 (Enter servant, ushering in Joshua and Tony; both bow grotescjue- 
 ly to all. Lawyer motions them to be seated. V'ilks has register un- 
 der his arm, which he drops and falls over, picks it up and kisses it.) 
 
 Mrs. Wkbb. " It is now twenty years ago, when one night Robert 
 Darrell called on my husband and induced him to promise to perform 
 a secret marriage between himself and Dora Trent, the mother of the 
 now Dora Darrell, and afterwards destroy the record. At that period, 
 John Darrell, the father of Stephen and Robert, was alive, and threat- 
 ened to disinherit Robert, should he marry any save the woman 
 he should choose. Rather than see his elder brother in possession 
 of the estate, he kept this marriage a profound secret. All who knew 
 Robert Darrell, knew him as one of great eccentricity and indomitable 
 will, and when, after the old man's death, Stephen was driven forth 
 from the home of his fathers, it was known that Robert would carry 
 his vengeance to the grave. I was not alone a witness to the mar- 
 riage of the mother of Dora, but was present at the birth of her child. 
 The mother died a few hours after her child was b;)rn, and was buried 
 in a little church yard in Troy, where a little slab marks her last rest- 
 ing place, with these words : " Dora Darrell, aged twenty-two years, 
 wife of Robert Darrell." .Having no children of my own, 1 adopted 
 this one, and after my husband's death, accepted the position of house- 
 keeper to Robert Darrell. which enabled me to bring up the child un- 
 der her own father's roof. He kept the secret of his marriage careful- 
 ly locked in his own breast. After awhile he began to show an interest 
 in the child. 'endeavoring to discover whether she was, by merit and 
 virtue, worthy to become mistress of these domains. Love for his 
 o.'Tspring oftimes during his illness showed itself ; even from that un- 
 couth man, who in all the world prized naught but gold and gain, yet 
 paternal love, in the hour of death, gained her triumph over the baser 
 part of his nature, and as death itself was struggling with its victim, 
 he acknoivledged Dora as his own child. Joshua Curry and Tony 
 Vilks, wh^ were un^?3n witnesses of th2 marriage, are here to speak 
 for the 11 selves. " 
 
20 DARRELL. 
 
 Lawyer. " One moment and I will be ready to take their testi- 
 mony." 
 
 Stephen. (Aside to Charlotte.) "This is a blow indeed. A 
 thunderbolt, that wrecks all our hopes. Let us hear in silence." 
 
 Charlotte. (Aside to Stephen.) " Let the worst come to the 
 worst, we will yet triumph, we will have our revenge, and the estate as 
 well. I yet hold the winning card, only courage. But the marriage is 
 not in the register, because 1 have searched it." 
 
 Lawyer. " Now, then, Joshua Curry and Tony Vilks, we are 
 ready to hear you. (Both rise quickly.) But one at a time." (Both 
 sit down quickly.) 
 
 Tony. (Aside to Joshua.) " I say, Joshua, my pumpkin, you speak 
 for both of us. You can galvanize 'em with your syntax and philoso- 
 phy. If I s,jeak, they'll get the toothache or the measles." 
 
 Joshua. (Aside, dramatically.) "Be it so, but keep your eye on 
 me. (Rijcs.) Ahem ! ahem ! My friend Tony has wisely said, I am 
 to be orator on this auspicious occasion. (Aside to Tony.) How's 
 that.'" 
 
 Tony. " Beautiful ! " 
 
 Jo.shua. " My friend and I were witnesses of the marriage of Dora 
 Trent to Robert Darrell, on Tuesday night, January 1 5th, at twenty 
 minutes past ten o'clock, by my — I mean by my friend Tony's watch, 
 in the year 1854. We were conversing about the politics of my don- 
 key, Neddy, when my respectable friend Tony called my attention to 
 the fact that the church was lit up, and that the parson had asked him 
 for the keys just twenty minutes before. We were not at all inquisi- 
 tive, oh, dear no ! but we were determined to know what was going 
 on ; so we walked round to the church and spied a little broken win- 
 dow, through which we saw and heard all that went on. We saw the 
 parson marry and bless them — we saw the bridegroom kiss the bride — 
 we saw the bride and groom depart. We heard the conversation be- 
 tween Mrs. and Parson Webb, where he told her the marriage was 
 legal, and never to speak of it to a living soul, un.ess it should become 
 necessary to establish the marriage as legal. We saw Mrs. Webb 
 sign the book, and then the reverend gent cut out the leaf and placed 
 it between two leaves at the back of the book. Here my friend Tony 
 got so e.xcited, that he broke another window, and this discovered us 
 to the parson, who then called us in and bound us to secresy. As the 
 poet says : 
 
 " We have kept our vow. 
 Up till — now." 
 All of which Tony will swear to." (Sits down.) 
 
 Tony. (Rising, stands on chair.) "As my friend Joshua says, so 
 say I— every word is true — and I assure you, ladies and gentlemen, 
 this vow is the only thing both of us ever did keep. Not alone did I 
 see the ceremony, but I went for the doC^or when baby Dora was born, 
 and helped to bury the poor mother. I know, and I swear that Dora 
 is his child, and here between these leaves is the record of the mar- 
 riage, so magnumptiously referred to by my friend here." (Hands 
 lawyer book.) 
 
 Lawyer. " This is all we want. It establishes without doubt the 
 fact, that you, .Miss Dora, are sole heiress to your father's estate, and 
 may Heaven bless you in its possession." 
 
 (All, e.xcept Stephen and Charlotte, go up to Dora and congratulate 
 her. Tony and Joshua throw their caps up and shout hurrah, &c.) 
 
 Lawyer. "Silence, gentlemen." 
 
 Dora. " Thank you, Lawyer Scruggs ; thank you, dear Mrs. 
 Webb, my more than mother." (Weeps.) 
 
DARRELI.. 21 
 
 St. Clair. " Why do you weep, Dora .^ " 
 Dora. " They are tears of joy." 
 
 Stephen. (Aside to Charlotte.) " Let us dissemble." (Aloud.) 
 "_Well, I suppose we must congratulate you; please give us a little 
 time to pack up, and leave you with our blessing." 
 
 Dora. " And when you go, it shall not be empty handed ; my 
 father's vengeance you will not find inherited by his child." 
 
 Charlotte. (Aside to Stephen.) "Which means we must ac- 
 cept her charity. We'll see." (Aloud, with humility.) " Miss Dora, 
 forgive us; Mrs. Webb, I humbly ask your pardon." (Music.) 
 
 Mrs. Webb. (With great lirmness.) " Ask pardon from a higher 
 source. (Pointing upwards.) Atone for the past, by amending your 
 future conduct." 
 
 Lawyer. 
 
 Charlotte. Mrs. Webb. 
 
 Stephen. Dora. 
 
 Joshua. St. Clair. 
 
 Guests. Tony. Guests. 
 
 (Curtain falls.) 
 
 ACT IV. 
 
 Scene I. — Room in Darrell House. 
 
 (Mrs. Webb and Dora seated. Mrs. Webb reading a document.) 
 
 Mrs. Webb. " It is indeed a great consolation and gratification to 
 me to read this document, which I prize beyond all heir-looms, because 
 it entirely frees my husband from even a shadow of suspicion, let alone 
 of guilt. It perfectly vindicates his forced action on that fatal night, 
 I have told you of. Would that 1 could tell him, and he understood 
 me, it would render him happy ; but that, I begin to fear, can never 
 be ; for years I have prayed for his restoration to reason ; alas, I have 
 hoped against all hope. The mariner hopes amid the raging storm to 
 return to his loved ones at home. The unfortunate hope for comfort, 
 and tries dame fortune in a thousand ways, fighting with the world's 
 ditficulties, and oft' times his hopes are rewarded by success. But for 
 me — what hope have I ? For twenty years I have been in this world's 
 wilderness alone — with a husband dead to me, to himself, and to the 
 world, for to be lost to reason, means to be enshrined in a living tomb. 
 To me, hope, I fear, is but a flickering light; a will-o'-the wisp, that 
 will lead me to the grave." 
 
 Dora. " Do not despatr, dear mother. St. Clair gave me good 
 news concerning your dear husband this very day. He bid me tell 
 you that soon he will restore him to you, in perfect health. St. Clair 
 would not deceive us ; he would not buoy us up with false hopes, there- 
 fore hope on, dear mother. I feel convinced that the time is not far 
 off, when you will again be made happy, with your husband's com- 
 panionship." 
 
 Mrs. Webb. " Bless you, darling, and St. Clair also, for trying to 
 buoy up my depressed spirits. No, no, no, child, 1 cannot credit it. 1 
 dare not. I could not bear to lift my soul's thought to such a heaven 
 of rapture, and then be dashed into despondency. Good man as Parson 
 Webb was to every one, yet there are those who will revile his memo- 
 ry. I^ovvn, keep down, is the motto of those purse proud people who 
 have risen from nothing and never will be anything. Alas ! I know 
 the world ; the so called friends are like summer flies, only seen in the 
 sunshine of prosperity." 
 
Dora. " I am indeed grateful, dear mother, that we are situated 
 independent of the world and its hollowness. I was courted for my- 
 self alone, when I was thought to be only your poor child. Don't you 
 remember my illness, when all the doctors had given me up, e.xcept' 
 .St. Clair. How by day and night he watched by my side, and nursed 
 me back to life. My love for him grew first out of my adoration for 
 his genius, his pure noble qualities, and long before he asked me to 
 become his wife, all my heart was his. There was no selfishness there, 
 1 had only my love to bestow then ; for myself he wooed and won me." 
 
 (Shouts without.) " Hurrah, hurrah, hurrah ! Parson's comeback; 
 hurrah, hurrah I" (Enter St. Clair, R. E.) 
 
 Mrs. Webb. " What means those shouts of joy .-' " 
 
 .St. Clair. (Embracing I^ora. ) " I'll tell you, but you must prom- 
 ise to be calm, dear mother." 
 
 Dora. " I can read in your looks that you have glorious news for 
 us." 
 
 Mrs. Wkbb. " .Speak, my dear son, I will listen with ftttention, and 
 endeavor to be calm under all circumstances." 
 
 .St. Clair. •' You know that for years, despite all your entreaties, I 
 have excluded you from your husband's presence, giving you from time 
 to time what hope I could. The branches of a tree, when once bereft 
 of strength, gradually fades and withers, yet the trunk remains. So it 
 was with your husband, the trunk alone lived, the brain had lost al- 
 most the vital .spark of strength, and to supply this wanted strength 
 was my aim, and constant study night and day. I will not picture the 
 restless anxiety with which 1 watched his case. To me it was a labor 
 of duty and love combined, which permeated my whole being towards 
 him ; aye, had he been my own father, I could not have done more — 
 and then my ambition was to render you happy." 
 
 Mrs. Webb. " My own darling son." 
 
 St. Clair. " Well, by degrees I saw sparks of reason enter his 
 brain. It was then 1 bid you hope. Tu eradicate the malady required 
 perfect rest, and no one but myself and servant have for years seen 
 him. When he got much better, 1 sent him abroad with my trusted 
 servant, all unbeknown to you, and — now be calm — I beg — to-day, 
 yes, this very hour, he has returned, as well, strong and hearty as ever." 
 
 Mrs. Webb. (Falling on her knees.) "Thank God I thank (xod ! 
 (Ri.ses.) And I shall see his dear face again. Oh, what joy — what 
 rapture — my heart leaps with bliss ; my soul rebounds with gratitude 
 to God, with thanks to you, my more than angel. Oh; bring me to 
 him." 
 
 Dora. " I told you, darling mother, not to despair, our Heavenly 
 Father never forsakes those who trust in him." (Embracing Mrs. 
 Webb.) 
 
 Mrs. Webb. " .-\h I darling, no stranger shall marry you. Your 
 wedding day shall be the happiest of our lives. You shall be married 
 by — " (Enter from centre Parson Webb.) 
 
 Parson Webb. " Parson Webb — darling Ida." 
 
 Mrs. Webb. (Fondly embracing him.) "My own; my Edwin; 
 alive and well, restored to me ; restored to me as it were from the 
 grave. This hour of joy compensates me for all the misery endured. 
 Husband, my soul's idol, my more than life, my joy of joys, I am trans- 
 ported with bliss. I can scarcely believe my own eyes. Is it a dream. 
 If it is, let me not wake again." 
 
 Webb. " Ida, dear wife, it is no dream, it is a blissful reality, many 
 are the joyous days in store for us." (Shouts without. Hurrah I 
 hurrah! Long live Parson W^ebb.) "Ah! those are the shouts of 
 
DAKKKI.I. 
 
 genuine welcome, that gladden my heart, it is a reception that a 
 king might envy. The young and old welcome their Pastor back again. 
 The position re-secured by St. Clair. We shall ever be his debtor. 
 Again I shall minister as in days gone by, to my flock. Again my 
 voice with theirs will mingle in prayer. Til not revert to the past ; it 
 is a blank, buried in oblivion. Suffice it, that by the Supreme help, 
 manifested by giving St. Clair the skill, I am restored to reason. St. 
 Clair has also told me all about the document of vindication, that my 
 guiltliness has been proven, and thus the tongue of calumny is stopped 
 for ever. But the greatest joy to me, far greater than all the rest, 
 without which, all the other blessings would be a meaningless nothing, 
 is the supreme joy of being once more with you, Ida. never to separate 
 again, 'till death does us part." 
 
 Mr.s. Webb. " At the altar, Edwin, my heart went with my hand 
 to you. What you have already, I cannot re-give. Your absence has 
 proved the depth of our affections, which, like the stern old oak, has 
 stood the test of storm and tempest, and is still the same." 
 
 Dora. " Dear father, I welcome you as a daughter should, with all 
 love and reverence." 
 
 Wekb. (Embracing her.) "And 1 reciprocate with all my heart 
 your greeting. Come hither my son ; you love each other? 
 
 St. Clair. " Yes, dear sir ; indeed we do." . 
 
 Webb. •' And have you named the happy day .^ " 
 
 Mrs. Webb. " I will name it for them — tomorrow evening." 
 
 St. Ci.air. "Oh, thanks, darling mother." 
 
 Ddra. "With all my heart, 1 consent." 
 
 (St. Clair embraces Dora. Music.) 
 
 Webb. " So shall it be. From on high your union shall be blessed 
 — a union of true love — of two souls united in happy matrimony." 
 
 (Shouts without. Hurrah for Parson Webb. Hurrah I hurrah I) 
 " Come, dear Ida. Come, my children, let us welcome your friends. 
 Let us be merry, and have our friends participate in our joy ; for (tak- 
 ing Mrs. Webb's hand I this is the happiest day of my life." 
 
 (Exit Dora and St. Clair, Mr and Mrs. Webb, left entrance. Amid 
 hurrahs from without.) 
 
 ACT 1\'.— ScKXK II. 
 
 Corridor of Aiili'-rooni. on Jiat. W^imiow aboi'c, and S/Zd/nt;- Door 
 in Panel. 
 
 (Enter from R. t2.. Joshua and Tony, arm in arm, laughing.) 
 
 Tony. " Joshua, my adorable pumpkin, I say again, you are to be 
 congratulated ; you are now Sheriff of the village." 
 
 Joshua. " Yes ; the village is honored, and I pocket the pay — and 
 you — bless your old ribs, you are the police force. They could only 
 afford one man, so you must feel yourself mighty big. Oh, lor, if there's 
 a rumpus at two ends of the village once, what would you do, eh } 
 Cut yourself in two ? " 
 
 TONV. "I do; come now, give me something easier. Confiden- 
 tially, I tell you, I've never had a case. I long for one." 
 
 Joshua. " Nor have I. I pine and pr.ny for one." 
 
 Tony. " Oh, why wont some one commit a murder ? If he was a 
 little fellow, and unarmed, wouldn't you and 1 go for him and take 
 him up ? " 
 
 Joshua. " You bat we would. Hal ha! thunderbolts I yes." 
 
24 DARRELL. 
 
 Tony. '• I thought you were making millions in the inventing busi- 
 ness. Invention, contention, extension, eh, my boy.^" 
 
 Joshua. " All my grand inventions failed, because no one would 
 advance me capital." 
 
 Tony. " Why didn't you come to me. I'm a policeman. I would 
 have ' taken them up.' But tell us, what did you invent ? " 
 
 Joshua. " Oh, a host of real useful things. I invented a family 
 umbrella, that the rain wouldn't touch, that could be packed in an 
 oyster shell. I invented a cradle, that rocks when you wink at it. I 
 am the inventor of the wonderful labor saving coffin ; all you've got to 
 do is to place it beside the dead 'un. It picks him up, sir, screws him 
 down, sir, and wheels itself right into the hearse, sir, all of its own accord. 
 Now, among the many astonishing things that my great brain brought 
 forth, I invented a machine to cure despondency. It's a " self-bumpus- 
 laugh-a-ma-gig.' The patient carries it in his coat tail pocket, sir. 
 Just as soon as he feels the dumps coming on, out comes the ' self- 
 bumpus-laugh-a-ma-gig.' It does its work automatically. Sets the 
 patient screaming with laughter, then picks itself up, and quietly re- 
 turns to the tail pocket of his coat." 
 
 Tony. " Wonderful, wonderful I What a pile you must have spent 
 in 'models.' " 
 
 Joshua. " Models, sir, models. How ignorant you must be. Do 
 you think we great inventors make models ? No, sir ; we make draw- 
 ings^on paper, sir. People are idiots — especially the bankers in W^all 
 street. None of them would invest even a postal card, to answermy 
 letters. Oh, the depravity of this world." 
 
 INVENTION .SONG. 
 
 " This is the age of Invention, 
 The glorious days of ascension. 
 When people invent. 
 And are never content, 
 'Till their money is spent. 
 In this glorious age of Invention. 
 
 If a man gets in trouble. 
 
 There's a row and a bubble, 
 
 The rumpus, I'll not mention ; 
 
 The only way out. 
 
 Clean from the route. 
 
 Is to creep out. by Invention. 
 
 There's the Telegraph here. 
 
 The Telephone there, 
 
 And the Flying-man's ascension ; 
 
 (lirls will make love soon. 
 
 With the man in the moon, 
 
 By the glorious art of Invention. 
 
 An old man from a cannon, 
 
 Was blown in the air. 
 
 And he came down. 
 
 Young, plump and fair. 
 
 And married a girl. 
 
 With black and red hair. 
 
 By the glorious art of Invention. 
 
 A nigger was changed 
 From black to white ; 
 
DARRF.I.I,. 25 
 
 Fat girls made thin. 
 
 By spark of light ; 
 
 Chalk made cheese. 
 
 And day made night, 
 
 By the glorious art of Invention. 
 
 There's Mrs. O'Toole 
 
 Had a kicking mule. 
 
 Who wf)uld not pay attention ; 
 
 He swallowed an electric mouse. 
 
 Became a brown stone house. 
 
 By the glorious art of Invention. 
 
 A frumpy old maid 
 
 Who was a sight. 
 
 Swallowed a dose 
 
 Of dynamite ; 
 
 Next day she was plump and fat. 
 
 And married immediately after that. 
 
 By the glorious art of Invention. 
 
 There's Mrs. O'drahev 
 
 Had a female baby, 
 
 One of imrrtense dimensions ; 
 
 She gave her alcho-hoy. 
 
 And she turned into a boy, 
 
 By the glorious art of Invention. 
 
 These are the days of Invention. 
 
 The glorious days of ascension. 
 
 And say what you will, 
 
 This world would stand still. 
 
 Were it not for the art of Invention." 
 Tony. (Looking at R. E.) " I condole with you ; but never mind. 
 Eh. hallo — look there ! Thunderbolts and mars — by the holv poker — 
 we're in luck's way. Here comes (ieorge Washington Columbus, the 
 fellow that didn't keep his appointment. He's the fellow that's alw^ays 
 talking to himself. Let's stand aside ; we may hear something. 
 
 Jo.SHUA. " Yes ; and then we'll nab him. Vanish, Hy. Come 
 along. (Both exit left.) 
 
 (Enter right, (ieorge Washington Columbus; during his speech, 
 both pop their heads out together, listening.) 
 
 G. W. CoLUMBU.s. •• De world am turned topsey turvey, and I 
 don't know 'sacley what to do. Dar am mischief in de wind. I, dis 
 chil', consented to be de spy ob dat ole villian Stephen, for de consid- 
 eration of big money in promises — when massa Robert kicked de buck- 
 et, but de bucket am kicked and I had de promises but no spondulix. 
 I will turn a summersalt ob de table, and look out for de interest ob de 
 family, and so be happy widin my noble breast. It don't pay to be de 
 spy ; de spy am like de crockodile ; de skm hab to be mighty tough 
 for de blows from all sides — and he is nebber safe in or out ob de 
 water." (Enter Joshua and Tony; they rush on Columbus and take 
 him by the ears.) " Mercy alive I Gracious me ! I'm gobbled up ; I 
 gib up de ghost ; I gib in : I throw up de sponge." 
 
 ToNV. "Ha, ha. he, he, ho, ho I We've caught you at last, old 
 blackberry brandy ! " 
 
 Jo.SHUA. " Yes ; old never-wash your face, we've caged you at last ; 
 now we shall just slice you up for sausage meat, and have your bones 
 
26 DARREr.r.. 
 
 nicely ground duw n for black currant jelly. Now Tony, where is your 
 razor? We'll scalp him." 
 
 G. W. Columbus. " My gorry ! my cracious ! What are dey now 
 goin' to do wid this chil' ? " (Oeatly excited.) 
 
 Tony. " Did any one see you come in ? " 
 
 (i. W. Coi.UMRUS. " No, sah ; I sneaked in. Nobody ebber seed 
 me come in." 
 
 Tony. (Flourishing razor. ) "Then by the jumping jingo, no one 
 ever sees you go out." 
 
 G. W. CoLUMKU.s. " Gentleum ; I'm obliged to you for de honor, 
 but I don't want to be ground, or sliced, or made into de jelly. Some 
 folks may like it. but dis chil" don't, because it am bad for my dijestion. 
 I don't want to quarrel. I don't want to fight. You hab taken all de 
 fight out ob me. Gentleum, 1 respect, I honor, 1 lub, both ob you, 
 better dan pumpkin pie. 1 will gib you valuable information, if you 
 will only forgib me. Oh I do kiss dis chil', and be friends." 
 
 Tony. " What do you say, Mr. Sheriff.^ " 
 
 Joshua. " Stand aside you black dumpling, while the sheriff's ofifice 
 consults with the police commissioners. (Columbus retire? back of the 
 stage.) Well, what's your opinion ?" 
 
 Tony. "Oh! I agree with you." 
 
 Joshua. "Exactly. But what is my opinion .-^ " 
 
 Tony. " Well, if there's mischief brewing, we ought to know it. 
 That's philo-sophy ; and if this darkey can put us on the scent, where- 
 by we can make a cent, why we will hear him out, and forgive him or 
 not afterwards." 
 
 Joshua. " Tony, my boy, come to my arms. (They embrace.) 
 You ought to be in Congress, and Assembly-man — likewise Alderman 
 — at the same time. Those is my sentiments to the T. Come hither, 
 what's-your-name, the courts have agreed to \^our terms, barring the 
 kissing, not on account of your strikmg beauty, but because they do. 
 Now out with your catalogue, double quick sticks, hang out your llag 
 of information. Out with it, and don't blush." 
 
 G. W. Columbus. " 1 tank de noble courts for der clam-in-see. 
 f^ar am mischief in de air, as thick as de flies in de cook shop war 1 
 dine wid my mash girl on my Sunday out. You should see dat er gal. 
 My golly, yah, yah ; yes, she am a stunner. She weighs three hundred 
 and ninety-two pounds, wid out her boots. Her eyes am like de crow; 
 dey is strawberry black, and her lips, dey make my mouth water, dey 
 is as red as darnation." 
 
 Joshua. " Look you here. Mr. Thing-a-ma-gig, give us the infor- 
 mation, or we'll flabagast you." 
 
 G. W. Columbus. " I was comin' to it." 
 
 Tony. " See here I If you don't cut with it we'll .scragg you." 
 
 G.W.Columbus. "Well.de mischief is wid Miss Charlotte and 
 her fader. I put my ear to der key hole, and I heard dem plottin' ven- 
 geance — to kill Miss Dora." 
 " Joshua and Tony. (Together.) " Kill her ? " 
 
 (}. W. Columbus. "Yes. sir; and so get de estate. But I hear 
 some one coming. Perhaps it am dem. Let us hide in de panel cup- 
 board room. We can den hear all." 
 
 Joshua. " Exactly ; let us do so. 1 carn't say 1 like your company, 
 but as the stew pan said to the vegetables — 
 Oh, tytus, spectum, 
 Mopus, dijection. 
 Cry-sum. inspectum, 
 Pickleum." 
 
 Tony. " And — ' mixuni.' " 
 
i»ARkKr.T,. 27 
 
 (Exit all through sliding panel. They open window above.) 
 
 (Enter Stephen, followed by Charlotte, R. E.) 
 
 Charlotte. (Stephen, as if about to speak, Charlotte, with great 
 excitement stops him.) ' I tell you, father, you jeopardise everything 
 with your fears. It is yes, or no? Are we, or are we not, to possess 
 this estate ? Will you do as I say, and all will be ours, or are your 
 fears of ghosts and g-oblin so great, that you dread to rid this world of 
 this butterfly of an obstacle ? { Looks around, as if to see if they are 
 alone.) Danger of discovery, there is none, and if you hesitate, we are 
 lost. We shall go back to our attic, and eke out a dreary existence. 
 You will, perchance, be again a clerk, and I go out sewing by the day. 
 (He is about to speak.) One word more and I have done. I hav-e 
 sworn these estates shall be ours and I tell you they will, if you will 
 but act, and that quickly, as I have advised. (With great hrmness, 
 wringing her hands.) Oh I would that I were a man, I'd laugh obsta- 
 cles to scorn ; I'd conquer or die. " 
 
 Stephen, ■•(iirl, your words alarm me. (With bitterness ) I own 
 I am a coward when it comes to spilling mortal blood." 
 
 Chakloi'ie. (With firmness.) " Bah I I tell you there is no blood 
 to be spilled. Here is the handkerchief, saturated with the poisonous 
 plant I told you of. Press it but once to her nostrils, and in a few 
 minutes, slowly but surely, she dies without detection. This is the 
 very hour she seeks her afternoon repose. Steal quietly to her, and 
 sleeping or waking, apply it, and then all is over. Then triumph is 
 ours." 
 
 Stephen. " Hold I you know not the result of your reckless de- 
 mands. You call it triumph. Is it a triumph that is purchased at the 
 cost of everlasting misery.'' Pause, I implore you, and think of the 
 torture of the brain ; the rack of conscience ; living a life of 'fear ; a 
 wretch, skulkmg from man, and hiding from the face of Heaven ; mak- 
 ing daylight a torture, and night a horror. To see ever in the midst 
 of luxury, sleeping or waking, the spirit of the dead rise before me ; to 
 behold her ghastly eyes fixed upon me, and her hand pointing to the 
 horrid deed — and a voice calling me ' murderer ' ; hurling imprecations 
 on my criminal head. Seeing in my dreams fiendish monsters arise to 
 drag me to burning destruction. Oh, do not thus blight the declining 
 years of my unhappy life. Oh, child, we have gone far enough ; we 
 can wTing from Dora's pity, enough to live upon. Oh ! my pretty, dar- 
 ling child, my life, my world. Behold me, your father, old and help- 
 less, soon on the verge of the grave, (falling on his knees,) a supplicant 
 at your feet. Do not urge me to do this sin, the foulest, blackest 
 crime that ever was perpetrated. Let her live. Your angel mother 
 from on high adds her prayer to mine, to shield us from this infamy — 
 to keep mv hands stainless from the crime of murder. Do not put the 
 brand of Cain upon me. Do not. for your mother's sake. (Rises, 
 with determination.) I tell you. child, I dare not. I will not do it." 
 
 Charlotte. (With firmness.) "Then, father, I swear by heaven, 
 never to leave this place alive. If you will not kill her, I will end by 
 the same means my unhappy existence. (With energy.) Give me 
 fame and fortune or death. I'll speak no more." 
 
 Sl'EPHEN. (Greatly excited.) "Child, my whole world is centered 
 in you. I will do it, even at the cost of my life, to preserve yours." 
 
 (Holds out his arms, in which Charlotte rushes, places her arms 
 round his neck, and tenderly embraces him. 
 
 Charlotte. "Spoken like my darling father; take this handker- 
 chief (gives it to him; speaking rapidly); at the foot of the garden, 
 near the old elm tree, you will find her. Strike, my father, for my sake, 
 for our happiness now and forever." 
 
28 DARRF.T.r.. 
 
 Stephen. (Embracing her. i " Fondly, my darlini; child, I press 
 you to my old heart. Come weal or woe, life or death, I'll do your 
 bidding, and bide by its result." 
 
 (Exit L. E., while Charlotte, kissing her hand to him. exits R. E.) 
 
 (The sliding door of the panel opens, and Joshua, Tony and G. W. 
 Columbus rush out.) 
 
 Jo.SHUA. " There goes two candidates for the congress of old Bel- 
 zebub. Oh, it's excruciating, treacherous, fulminating and horrible ; 
 it's worse. My blood's up ; body and bones carn't stand it. I, myself, 
 am now commander-in-chief, so spike your pumps, and stir your 
 stumps, for quicks the word, and no dancing around, or the fat will be 
 in the fire. Oh, I could boil them, roast and stew them, flay them 
 alive, do anything to rid the world of such vampires. Now, George 
 Washington Columbus, don't stand there picking your teeth and roll- 
 mg your eves, like a pig in a dark entry. Run and tell Dr. St. Clair 
 we want him. (Columbus runs towards R. E.) Stop — and trot also 
 and tell Parson Webb and his wife we want them. (Columbus runs 
 towards L. E.) Stop — likewise gallop and tell the magistrate he must 
 come here at once. Explain as well as you can. and he will come." 
 
 (Columbus comes to centre of stage and sits on the floor.) 
 
 G. W. Columbus. " Gentleum, I'm not de electric galvanicity. I'm 
 not de telephonebus, nor the champion runner. 1 knows I hab three 
 names, but I is only one individuality. I carn't be here, dar, and ebery 
 war, at de one time. I'm in de way — let me go to bed." 
 
 Tony. (Picking him up.) "Go, man, fly, vanbuse, and see each 
 one, and bring them here to the hall immediately, or we'll hang you." 
 
 (He thrusts Columbus out R. E.) 
 
 Jo.SHUA. "Thunderbolts and lucifer matches, we'll pepper them. 
 Now, Tony, you look after the female, I'll keep my eye on the man. 
 Be up and doing and our fortune's made. We'll meet violence with 
 violence. We'll track 'em. and drag 'em to justice. I'm boiling." 
 "Come, don't let us delay. 
 We'll master 'em and win the day. 
 As sure as my name is Joshu-a, " 
 
 Tony. " Right, my pumpkin, we'll work together, despite either 
 wind or weather." (Exit both, arm in arm.)- 
 
 ACT 1\'.— Scene III. 
 
 A magnificent Garden. A beautiful e/ni tree, in l)looni, in centre. A 
 rustic bench at foot of tree. At left side, steps leading to porch of 
 mansion. Floral urns ranged around stage, tvith fountaiti play- 
 ing. Time, sunset. St. Clair and Dora discovered seated on botch, 
 her head resting on St. Clair's should:r. Calcium lights full on. 
 
 St. Clair. " Darling, how beautiful and refreshing is this evening's 
 breeze. A Godlike quietude prevails, comparing with our hearts that 
 beat in unison, in peace and love." 
 
 Dora. " Yes, dear Frank, I feel so happy because you love me. 
 Without you, fortune and everything would be a chaos. Well have 
 but one rivalry, dear, and that shall ever be, to see which of us can do 
 the most good to the deserving of our fellow creatures." 
 
 St. Clair. (Tenderly embracing her.) " Well spoken, my treasure 
 of treasures. Am I not blest ? This is truly unalloyed happiness. 
 (Looking at his watch, and rising.) Darling, you must excuse me for 
 
DARRK.r.r.. 29 
 
 a little while, I have a poor patient I must go to see, waiting for me at 
 the lodge. May I go, dearest ? " 
 (Charlotte enters unseen. L. E.) 
 
 Dora. "Why certainly, Frank, but do not stay longer than you 
 can helo." 
 
 St. Clair. "Very well. Dora. I shall not be long." (Kisser her, 
 and exit R. E.) 
 
 (Charlotte coming forward. Dora takes up book, looks up and meets 
 Charlotte's eye, who gazes at her with envy.) 
 
 Charlotte. " Good evening. Miss Darrell. We leave to-morrow 
 morning. You will soon be rid of our obnoxious presence." 
 
 Dora. (Kindly.) "Say not so, Charlotte, cousin. Why do you 
 act and speak as though you were my enemy? " 
 
 Charlotte. (Bitterly.) "How can I be your friend, since you 
 have robbed me of the only man I have ever loved, and the Darrell 
 estate as well.-^ I am frank with you. and tell you my honest feelings." 
 (Crosses to centre of stage.) 
 
 Dora. (Rising, and appealingly approaches Charlotte.) "Char- 
 lotte, let us be friends; I ask. nay, more, (kneeling.) I implore you ! 1 
 have no parents, no sister. Be to me a sister. Stay with me, and 
 vour father also, and you shall want for nothing." 
 
 Charlotte. (Aside.) " Oh. triumph ! it is beginning. The heir- 
 ess of Darrell. a supplicant at my feet." (Aloud, sternly.) " Rise lady. 
 (Dora rise«.) I cannot and 1 will not accept your bounty. With me 
 the die is cast. I share with no one. I'll have all or none! You're 
 welcome to my leavings, to the second-hand love of Frank St. Clair. 
 To live and feel in all your splendor that you have the uncompromising 
 hatred of Charlotte Darrell." (Crosses to left.) 
 
 Dora. (Firmly.) " Charlotte, I have implored you to say, and now 
 with the same vehemence, I bid you depart. Since your heart is stone, 
 you're no fit companion for me. Farewell." (Exit back of stage.) 
 
 Charlotte. (Cireatly excited.) " Oh, fool that I am! (Striking 
 her breast.) Fool! Reckless of my words ; what folly have they en- 
 gulfed me into.^ (Pauses, and speaking more calmly.) Am I doing 
 her a wrong? (With energy.) No! why shall the world be happy 
 and I miserable? (Crosses stage triumphantly.) .Soon these estates 
 shall be mine! (With a singing laugh.) Soon the v.orld shall be at 
 my feet. 1 see myself in Paris, in London, the gayest of the gay, the 
 adored of all. Flattered, courted, and even princes prostrating them- 
 selves before my august presence. Oh. my brain! it fairly reels with 
 thoughts of joy at the glorious scene of happiness. (In altered tone.) 
 Deep into the garden shade has my enemy gone. My father, I know, 
 lurks in her path. I can picture her gently reposing beneath the shade 
 of the old elm tree, dreaming perchance of her nuptial day — pleasant 
 be thy dreams, for it is thy last on earth. He approaches, will he 
 strike ? Will he steel his heart against her, alas, too beautiful face ? I 
 see the demon in his eye. Good — good — now's the time, thou aveng- 
 ing angel. Quick, quick, ere it is too late. Oh, he'll do it. He has 
 sworn to. Laggard, you have paused too long. See, see, she wakes. 
 Softly now — he pounces like a tiger on his prey. Ah ! they struggle. 
 Now', now, he stiffles her cry for help. I see the poisoned handker- 
 chief in his hand ; he presses' it to her nostrils. I can scarcely breathe. 
 The sickening sight freezes my very blood. Now I hear her mourning 
 cry. See her struggling in death's embrace. I feel, as it were, the 
 very parting of soul and body. I'll see no more — the deed — the deed 
 is done. I can afford to while away these happy moments in peaceful 
 
30 DARRKI.T,. 
 
 sleep here on this bench, (slow music,) until he awakes me with the 
 joyful news that all is accomplished, and Darrell estate ours. (Quietly 
 going to sleep, speaking drowsily.) Oh, how beantiful is nature and 
 the dream of happiness ; how glorious must be its realization ! " (Music 
 stops.) 
 
 (Enter Stephen from mansion steps, speaking musingly.) 
 
 Stephen. " It is evening. Would it were dark night I Hellish 
 night, the better suited for my black design. (.Sees the sleeping girl.) 
 Ah, there she is. Well have the fiends allied their forces with mine, 
 and cast her in my path. Her life's enjoyment is indeed transient. 
 To a better world do I consign your sweet spirit. May heaven take 
 your soul. Thus do I make Darrell estate my own." 
 
 (St. Clair coming from behind the elm tree, springs upon Stephen, 
 in front of Charlotte.) 
 
 St. Clair. " Murderer, hold off your hand." 
 
 (He grasps the handkerchief which he flings away. Combat music.) 
 
 Stephf:n. " My evil geniu<=, thwarter of my designs, now for your 
 life." 
 
 (Stephen draws a knife ; they struggle. Combat music. Stephen 
 is getting the best of St. Clair, who is forced to the ground ; he is 
 about to strike with the knife, when Joshua and Tony rush in, seize 
 him, and wrest the knife from him. Music stops.) 
 
 Joshua. " No ; I'll be hanged if you do." 
 
 Tony. " Charge, fire, fury and victory." 
 
 St. Clair. " Cowardly assassin, down on your knees, villian. See 
 what I have saved you from. Another moment and you would have 
 assassinated your own child." 
 
 (Music. They lead him to the couch where Charlotte is sleeping.) 
 
 Stephen. " No, no, no I It cannot be my child. Yes, it is — it is. 
 Oh, powers of mercy, from what a fate have you saved me. 1 am be- 
 wildered. I — I — " 
 
 St. Clair. "Away with him to the fast room in the inner hall, 
 there await my coming." 
 
 Stephen. (Imploringly.) "Hear me. Let me .speak, or I shall 
 go mad." 
 
 St. Clair. (Sternly.) " Away with him." 
 
 (Stephen protests, but is dragged off by Joshua and Tony. St. Clair 
 gazes loathingly on Charlotte, who awakes. ) 
 
 Charlotte. What, you here — you. Away with you ; far away 
 from me ; spread oceans between us. I cannot bear your presence ; 
 away, I say, away. You here — you here." 
 
 St. Clair. "You may thank heaven that I am here, for had I not 
 been here, you would have been no longer a living being." 
 
 Charlotte. " What do you mean ? " 
 
 St. Clair. "I rnean that you would have died by your father's 
 hand." 
 
 Charlotte. " It's a monstrous lie." 
 
 St. Clair. " For shame, madam. Creatures like you, are the 
 blackest spots on earth. It sliocks my very nature to converse with 
 such a wretch as you are. Your place is the prison ; your lot perdition." 
 
 Charlotte. " I thought you were insane, now I'm sure of it." 
 
 St. Clair. "You think only of the present, of the future you are 
 reckless of. You would take the life you cannot give. You would 
 kill your cousin Dora, to satisfy your greed for gold. Oh, it is mon- 
 strous, monstrous." 
 
DARREI.r,. 31 
 
 Charlotte. " l pronounce what you say to be a base calumny, 
 and if I do not answer you as I ought to, it is only that the contempt 
 I feel towards you drowns my utterance. Oh, noble aspirant to the 
 name of defender of the innocent. You who have trampled upon and 
 crushed my heart. Do you think you can go scott free. Oh, no, no, 
 no, I'll not drag you before any court of law; but I'll not die before I 
 have my revenge in my own way, and my own time, for all the tor- 
 ment you have caused me." 
 
 St. Clair. "Cease this irony. Your father is in custody on a 
 charge which should send him to the gallows. You are accessory, and 
 are likewise a prisoner. (Enter G. W. Columbus.) Here my man, 
 bring her along." 
 
 Charlot IE. " It is the fate of great people to have their enemies. 
 F'rom the days of Eve up to nov>-, when trouble comes, the weaker sex 
 are made to carry the brunt and burden. Exult as you please, sir, you 
 are the stronger now." 
 
 G. W. Columbus. "Come along, and no kicking. If you won't, 
 I'll put OH de bracelets." (Producing hand-cuffs.) 
 
 St. Clair. " Take her away." 
 
 Charlotte. "Lead on. I'll go with you patiently. You may 
 taunt me as you like, say "-hat you will. We will vindicate ourselves, 
 and have reparation for this outrage." 
 
 St. Clair. "On with her to the hall drawing-rcom, there the 
 Squire sits in judgment." (Charlotte about to speak. St. Clair mo- 
 tions to Columbus, who leads her off R. E.) " And this is the woman, 
 the fiend, I have escaped from marrying. Did I ever love her ? No, 
 it was the infatuation of my youth. Dora alone is possessor of all my 
 love and devotion. Ill deeds are sent on earth as an example to better 
 the ways of mankind. This would have been a foul deed, had it not 
 been providentially averted. It is revolting to even think of it. It 
 clods the fountain seat of mercy, makes pity a crime, and almost closes 
 the portals of the heart against commisseration." (Exit L. E.) 
 
 ACT IV.— Scene IV. 
 
 Draii'ino;-room of Darrell House, fitriushcd as befoyc described, ivif/i 
 fable, eh\ Music as characters enter. 
 
 (Enter from centre, retinue of servants and guests, who take their 
 places right and left, followed by Mr. and Mrs. Parson Webb, and by 
 Dora and St. Clair, to places left. More servants enter, who are fol- 
 lowed by Lawyer S. All bow to him as he takes his seat at table. 
 From R. E. enter Joshua, leading in Stephen, followed by Tony ; at 
 the same time, from left, enter Charlotte, followed by George W. Co- 
 lumbus. Charlotte recognizes her father, crosses to Stephen, who 
 fondly embraces her. They whisper together. Music stops.) 
 
 Lawyer. " Sad tidings have summoned me here, and rumors, if 
 true, are revolting to human nature. I will not prejudge even the 
 blackest crime, but give an impartial hearing to all, then justice shall 
 take her course. Are your witnesses here ? " 
 
 Columbus, k ^ 
 
 Joshua, • All speak together. • " Yes, sir ; we are, we are." 
 
 Tony. / S 
 
 Lawyer. "Approach, and I will administer the oath." 
 
 (Music. St. Clair goes to lawyer's table, takes the book and rever- 
 ently kisses same. Joshua and Tony hold up their right hands, and 
 
32 UARRELI.. 
 
 in kissing the same book together, bump their heads, the book drops, 
 and is taken up by Columbus, who kisses it. All scramble for their 
 places. Music stops.) 
 
 Lawyer. " We are. now ready to proceed. Dr. .St. Clair I will 
 hear you first. Let us have the facts as briefly as possible." 
 
 St. Clair. " The facts are briefly as follows : Stephen Darrell and 
 his daughter Charlotte laid a plot to murder Dora Darrell, by poison. 
 The mode was to make her inhale the fumes of a poisoned handker- 
 chief, by pressing the same to her nostrils. Providentially they were 
 overheard, and steps taken to avert their foul design. While I was 
 arresting the attempt of Stephen to poison his daughter, (whom he in 
 the shade of the evenmg mistook for Dora,) he made an attack with 
 this knife on my life, and would have succeeded, had it not been for 
 the timely arrival of Joshua and Tony. I therefore charge Stephen 
 Darrell and his daughter, jointly, with the crime of nremeditated at- 
 tempt to murder Dora Darrell. I also charge Stephen Darrell with 
 felloneous and murderous attempt on my life." 
 
 G. W. Columbus. " I is here to prove de plotting. I was under 
 de bed a-li.stening." 
 
 Joshua. " And we are here to prove both the plotting and the gal- 
 vanizing murder that would have been sure pop, but for the bravery of 
 myself and my gallant friend here." 
 
 Tony. " Yes ; Dr. St. Clair did the fighting ; we did the taking up, 
 which is the principal business." 
 
 Lawyer. " Stephen Darrell and Charlotte Darrell, you are charged 
 with one of the most heinous crimes known in law. This is but a pre- 
 liminary examination. Vou have the right of counsel, if you so desire, 
 and you can if you like reserve your defense I tell you this before 
 calling for further examination of the witnesses." 
 
 Stephen. • We will not trouble the witnesses. You have shown 
 us v^'hat you are capable of doing in that respect before. When there 
 was no will, you proved there was one, by the same hirelings. What 
 chance have we against such testimony.^ " 
 
 Lawyer. " I am glad I can disprove what you state concerning 
 the will. The original will was never destroyed. (Servants cheer. ) I 
 was called in haste to the death bed of Robert Darrell, and found him 
 dying. There was no time for preparation, so the will was written 
 hastily. I had two loose forms of paper, and in folding it, the sheet 
 on which the will was written fell to the ground. I transcribed merely 
 the outer cover, with the words. ' Last will and testament of Robert 
 Darrell,' dating it, and gave it in Mrs. Webb's custody; picking up the 
 will from off the ground, thinking it then only to be a sheet of legal 
 paper. It was only to-day, in clearing out my desk of papers, this 
 document, the will itself, fell into my hands. So you see we possess 
 the original will, and the one you (pointing to Charlotte) destroyed, 
 was only the cover. (Cheers by the servants.) The will is here in- 
 tact, and 1 will now read it to you." (Reads the will.) 
 
 THE WILL. 
 
 " In the name of God, Amen. I, Robert Darrell, being of sound 
 mind and memory, but feeling that my last end is approaching, and 
 being anxious to settle and make certain the manner in which my pro- 
 perty shall be disposed of after my decease, do hereby make, publish 
 and declare my last will and testament, in manner as follows : I give, 
 devise and bequeath to Dora Trent, the adopted daughter of my house- 
 keeper, Mrs. Ida Webb, to have and to hold to her and her heirs for- 
 ever, all the estate, real and personal, of which I shall die seized, here- 
 by constituting the said Dora my sole and only legatee ; to the exclu- 
 
DARRELL. 33 
 
 sion of all and every other person and persons whomsoever ; and I do 
 hereby appoint the said Ida Webb sole executrix of this my last will 
 and testament. In witness whereof, I have hereunto set my'hand and 
 seal this tenth day of May, in the year of our Lord one thousand eight 
 hundred and seventy-six. Signed, Roef:rt Darrell." 
 
 " And it is duly witnessed by Dr. St. Clair and Mrs. Ida Webb, in 
 the presence of each other, according to law." 
 
 Stephen. (Aside to Charlotte.) " Undone, undone on all sides. 
 The shipwrecked mariner, in his last efforts to save his life, clings with 
 failing strength to the frail plank. It sinks, and he is gone for ever. 
 Our last ray of hopeful light has gone, and we are powerless." 
 
 (Charlotte silently attempts to cheer him.) 
 
 Parson Webb. (Aside to Mrs. Webb.) "Can that man be Rob- 
 ert Darrell's brother. / never saw him before in my life." 
 
 Mrs. Webb. " Yes ; he gave me to understand he was your best 
 friend. It was by that representation that I consented to permit him 
 and his daughter to enter the hall. He said he had saved your life, 
 and by this subterfuse overruled my judgment. He also stated that 
 he was wealthy, and did not seek his brother's gold, but his sole desire 
 was to be near to him when he died, and pray for the repose of the 
 soul of that brother who would not be reconciled to him while living. 
 All this swayed my feelings to give them shelter under this roof." 
 
 Parson Webb. (Aside to Mrs, Webb.) '-What he told you is 
 false. I can now understand why they are tenanted in this hall. It is 
 duplicity that has gained them admittance." 
 
 Charlotte. " It is glorious to possess the giant's strength. It is 
 tyrrany to use it. What do you care, whether we are thrown on the 
 cold world of charity, amid the blasts of winter, or the burning sum- 
 mer's sun, as long as you bask in the sunshine of ill-gotten luxury. 
 You have hearts of stone. When the poor eagle lay prostrate and 
 bleeding at the feet of its victor, it was not its noble equal, who plunged 
 its talons into his powerless flesh, and drank his heart's blood. It was 
 the vulture. On — on with your judgment. What can we do ? What 
 avails our protest. With your deadly weapons pointed at our hearts, 
 on all sides, right or wrong, we are at your mercy ; therefore decide our 
 fate." 
 
 Lawyer. " I am not here to be swayed by feelings of sympathy. 
 You are unworthy of it. On your heads is the penalty of your mon- 
 strous sin. I am here to administer justice ; to mete out the law re- 
 gardless of ever)' other consideration. It rests with the prosecution to 
 proceed or to withdraw. As to my own personal feelings, I consider 
 no punishment too much for such vile creatures as you are." 
 
 Dora. " Seeing what we have seen, knowing what we know, I 
 cannot wonder at my poor father's feelings towards his unnatural rela- 
 tions ; yet possessing as I do my revered mother's forgiving nature, I, 
 who am most wronged, appeal for mercy for them, although they 
 would have taken my life. I do not wish to be the cause that the name 
 of Darrell shall be disgraced. (Turning to St. Clair.) I am the in- 
 jured one, you are the prosecutor ; I implore you, by the love you bear 
 me, withdraw your charge and let them go free. Ah, do not let this 
 our nuptial day, be marred by their consignment to prison, but, vile as 
 their sin is, as we hope hereafter for forgiveness, let us pardon them 
 so far as to give them their liberty." 
 
 Parson Webb. " I add my supplications to yours, dear daughter, 
 although we see no contrition on their stern visages, and defiance in 
 their words and actions, yet life can hav'e but little charm for such 
 
34 LiARRKLL. 
 
 wretches ; with liberty, they can eke out an existence — pittied by none ; 
 they will tramp the world friendless, and houseless, as they deserve to 
 be. Let them, I beg, and pray, go free ; then in time, perchance, re- 
 morse may come, and, let us hope, that true repentance will follow." 
 
 St. Clair. (Who has been silently conversing with Dora.) " Deeply 
 as you have sinned against us, out of the love I bear my intended wife, 
 I will consent to withdraw the charge, with permission of the court. 
 Go — and end your days as best you can, but never more let us see 
 your despicable faces- again." 
 
 Lawyer. •' Since the prosecution is withdrawn, I have no other 
 choice left me, unfortunately, but to dismiss this case, which I reluct- 
 antly do ; but I warn you to leave this part of the country, as I am not 
 responsible for the actions of others, and should others bring charges 
 against you, I will do my duty regardless of consequences. You de- 
 serve imprisonment for life, and I regret not being able to convict you. 
 I ignonimously discharge you ; the case is closed." 
 
 (Charlotte embraces her father.) 
 
 G. W. Columbus. " Look here, ole gentleum, ole rooster, keep up 
 your porrage, don't worry about de money vot you owes me, and it 
 may be bery ccnsolin' for you to know, if you eber want a son-in-law 
 for your daughter, here am George Washmgton Columbus, ready made 
 to order for her, dar. \'ot, no answer. Oh, de awful ingratitude of 
 dis wicked world." 
 
 Tony. " Dash my buttons, no gallows biz after all. Kick me, 
 Joshua. If you love me, kick me." 
 
 JO.SHUA. "No. It's excruciatingly aggrivating, Fairation is fair- 
 ation. Man may decree, but woman turns us all topsey turvey." 
 
 Stephen. " We did not bow and cringe and cry for mercy, our 
 blood is not of the craven kind. W^ith us there is no contrition — no 
 remorse or anguish ; our hearts know no fear ; our conscience no re- 
 gret. We simply gambled for a big stake, and we have lost. It's not 
 the first or last time that this will occur in life's history. You have 
 gold and you triumph. (Ironically.) Gold I that all the pious hate, 
 and still they love to bow to the golden calf. Enjoy your triumph ; 
 but sleeping or waking, amid joy and revelry, at all times and all sea- 
 sons, whether on land or sea, you have our uncompromising hate, and 
 our everlasting curse." 
 
 St. Clair. "The imprecations come only from a fiend. They 
 pass us by like the idle wind, and will recoil on yourselves. Ingrate 
 as you are, false to heaven, and a blight to the world, for shame. Go, 
 ere you force us to take strong measures against you." 
 
 G. W. CoLUMBU.s. " I wonder if it am me dat dey am a blessin' ? 
 If I was sure ob it, I'de — yes I would; I'de pumble de ole gentleum. 
 wid de 'sistance of de sheriff and de police force dar." 
 
 Charlotte. (Turns to Stephen, who glares wildly at her. Aside 
 to him.) " Father, why do you gaze at me thus ? Be a man — for my 
 sake. Whatever your feelings may be, suppress them here, and re- 
 member your child is with you. In danger and difficulty, in poverty 
 or distress, yes, come what will, be it sorrow or joy, to me you will 
 ever be the same. Cheer up, and be yourself ; do so, dear father." 
 
 Stephen. (Aside to Charlotte.) " Right, my child ; all is not dark, 
 with your bright .smile to illumi.ia,.e our path, we'll make the best of 
 our lot." 
 
 Joshua. " I have the honor to be delegated as a committee of one, 
 to have the pleasure of showing you the way out." 
 
 Tony. " And you'll find your baggage on the sidewalk." 
 
 Charlotte. " Come, father, let us leave these happy people, whom 
 
i)AKKi;i,i,. 35 
 
 we have condescended too long to honor with our society. Doubtless 
 one of these da^-s, you will repent of your treatment of your relations. 
 Ah, we can afford to leave you with your stolen gains. Truly yours 
 is a noble generosity. Afraid to mar their nuptial day, ha, ha. ha ! 
 For the ' honor of the Darrells,' you magnanimously let us go free. 
 Glorious generosity. (Firmly.) There is no word in the category of 
 language, that can convey the feelings of loathing which we entertain 
 for you." 
 
 " You have indeed 
 
 Escaped great peril, 
 
 And gained the prize, 
 
 Dora Darrell. 
 
 I'm ready, father, 
 
 (io where you will, 
 
 In life or death, 
 
 I'm your daughter still." 
 
 (Stephen embraces his daughter, and leads her towards left entrance. 
 She turns, to speak ; he calms her. Stephen looks defiantly at them. 
 Charlotte lays her head on his breast, and he leads her out left.) 
 
 Toxv. "(lOod riddance to bad rubbish, say I. Say — mind you 
 don't spoil the fresco as you go down the stairs." 
 
 Joshua. " .A.nd go to old Belzebub, the pair of you, with my com- 
 pliments. Well, never mind them, let's be jolly. Ladies and gentle- 
 men, let's give three cheers for the bride and bridegroom." 
 
 (All cheer. Parson Webb places Dora's hand in that of .St. Clair. 
 Music.) 
 
 Parson Webb. " And now for your wedding. Come, let us with 
 our friends adjourn to our little church ' 'round the corner,' and there 
 I will make you two the happiest of living beings. (Blessing them.) 
 Father in heaven, look down on this happy pair, and crown their union 
 with thy glory. May the choicest blessings from Heaven descend on 
 the heiress of Darrell and her husband." 
 
 (All cheer as curtain falls.) 
 
 DISPOSITION OF CHARACTERS. 
 
 Parson Webb. 
 G. W. Columbus. St. Clair. Dora. Mrs. Webb. 
 
 Joshua. Lawyer S. 
 
 Guests. Tony. Guests, 
 
LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 
 
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