S 2978 T6 W6 opy 1 ny* Older " nKWITT^" A4tiim Plnv$»* PRTCKXr> CF.NTS. m 9^^-- \\3^^ r)E WITTS ACTING FLAYS, ^^^v (INnin1>f^i' ::.s«.) WON BACK. A PLAY, ITJ I^OOTt. -A.OTS». By CLIFTON W. TAYLEURE. TOGF.THRU WITH A I>esc'ii|iti(iii of tlie ('ostimies— (!ast of tlie (;ii;ii;icters— Entrances and Exils — Helative Posilions of llie Perfonneis on the Stage — and I lie wliole of (lie .Sla,i,'e lJiis»ines8. Item 'H|orh : ^ THE DE WITT PUBLISHING HOUSE, M Z^M )B0^^ AC0MPLP:TE descriptive catalogue of DE WITTS ACTING PLAYS and DE WITTS ETHIOPIAN AND COM IC DR AMAS, containing Plot. Costume, Scenery, Time of Representation, and all other information, mailed f-'^- T'-^ •^'^^•i-r'^'d on application. 33£: TT^ITT'iS Ethiopian a-nd Comic Drama. «- Nothiu" so tlioiungli and complete in tlie way of Ethiopian and Comic Dramas has ever beeu^printea as tliose that appear in the followin',' Ifst. Not only are the plots ex- cellent, the characters droll, the incidents Juuny, the lauyuag situations, by-play, positions, paiitorniniic business. sceiier.\ hniuorous, but all the and tricks are so plainly Dut down aiid clearlv explained that the merest novice could put any of them on the stage. Included in this Catalogue are all the most laughable and effective pieces of then- kind ever produced. . ^ ^ ■ t^-^^ ,-> *5=- .^uy of the following Plays sent, postage free, on receipt of pi-ice— Fifteen Cents «:B- In ordering, please give correctly the title of each piet^e wanted. * * These Plays require but one scene, unless otherwise stated. The figures iu the coluutns indicate "the number of characters— M. male; F. Female. M. F. 3 1 5 HI. Absent Minded, Eth. farce 7:t. .\trican Box. Eth. burlesque, 2 sc. 107. African us Bluebeard, Eth. musical burlesque 6 113. Ambition, Irish farce, 2 scenes — 7 133! Awful Plot (An), Eth. farce 3 43. Baby Elephant, Eth. sketch, 2 sc. 7 42. Bad Whiskey, Irish sketch 3 79! Barney's Courtship, Irish musical interlude 1 40. Big Mistake, Ethiopian sketch. .. 4 15.5" Black Brigands, musical burlesque 8 6. Black Chap from Whitechapel, Ethiopian farce 4 10 Black Chemist. Ethiopian sketch.. 3 11! Black-Ev'd\Villiaiii,Eth.sketch,2sc. 4 14(;. Black Forrest (Tlie), Eth. farce... 2 110 Bhick Magician, Eth. comicality .. 4 126! Black Statue (The). Eth. farce. ... 4 127. Blinks and Jinks, Eth. sketch 3 128. Boboltuo, the Black Bandit, Eth. musical farce '- 120. Body Suatehers (The), Eth. sketch 2 scenes 4 78. Bogus Indian, sketch, 4 scenes 5 S9 Bogus Talking Machine, Eth. farce 4 ■U. Bruised and Cured, Eth. Sketch.. 2 los! Charge Qf the Hash Brigade, comic Irish musical sketch 2 14S Christmas Eve in the South, Eth. farce ^ 3.5. Coal Heaver's Revenge, Eth sketch 112! (Jomiug Man. Eth. sketch. 2 scenes 3 41 Cremation, Eth. sketch. 2 scenes. . 8 144! Crowded Hotel (The), sketch 4 14o! Cupid's Frolics, sketch 5 12 Daguerreotypes, Eth. sketch 3 53! Damon and Pythias, Eth. burlesque 2 scenes ■ ^ 63 Darkey's Stratagem. Eth. sketch.. 3 13U Darke.v Sleep Walker, Eth. sketch. 3 I'u! Deaf as a Post. Eth. sketch 2 111! Deeds of Darkness, Eth. extrava ganza 13!» De.-!perate Situation, farce 1.5!)! Dodging the Police, farce 157 Don't Get Weary, musical sketch. 50 Draft (The), Eth. sketch, 2 scenes 64. Dutchman's Ghost (The), sketch.. 9.5 Dutch .Tustice. Dutch sketch 67' Editor's Troubles, farce 6 4 Eh' What is it? Eth. sketch 4 136 Election Day. Eth. farce, 2 scenes. 6 9S Elop''"^<'"* l^''®'' ^*'''"®' ^ '"■"^"®^" * 50" Excise Trials. Etli. sketch ... 10 2.5! Fellow that Looks dike aie, inter' Imle 2 1 So. M. I 88. First Night. Dutch farce 4 51. Fisheinian's Luck, Eth. sketch. .. 2 152. Fun in a Cooper's Shop, Eth. sketch G 106. Gambrinus, King of Lager Beer. Eth. burlesque, 2 scenes S 157. Gentlemen Coon's Parade, Eth. musical sketch a 83. German Emigrant. Dutch sketch.. 2 77. Getting Square on the Call Boy. Eth. sketch .'i 17. Ghost (The), Eth. sketch -j 58. Ghost in a Pawn Shop, Eth. sketch 4 31. Glycerine Oil. Eth. sketch. 2 sc... •20. Going for the Cup, Eth. interlude. 4 82. Good Night's Kest. sketch : 130. Go and Get Tight. Eth. farce 1 86. Gripsack iThei. sketch 70. Guide to the Stage, Eth, sketch. . . ;. 61. Happy Couple, larce 2 142. Hai'pv Uncle Rufus, Eth. musical sketch 1 23. Hard Times, Eth. extravaganza... 5 118. Helen's Funny Babies, Eth, bur- lesque 6 3. Hemmed In. Eth. sketch 3 48. High Jack, the Heeler, Eth, sketch 6 68. Hiiipotheation, sketch 9 1.50. How to Pay the Rent, farce 6 71. In and Out, sketch 2 123. Intelliuence Oflace, Eth. sketch.... 2 33. Jealous Husband. Eth. sketch 2 94. Julius the Suoozer, Eth. burlesque 3 scenes 6 103. Katriiia's Little Game, Dutch act.. 1 1. Last of the Mohicans, Eth. sketch. 3 36. Laughing Gas, Eth sketch 6 161. Limekiln Club iu an Uproar (The), l-;th . farce S 18. Live Injun, Eth. sketch. 4 scenes. 4 60. Lost Will (The), Eth. sketch 4 37. Lucky Job, larce, 2 scenes 3 00. Lunatic (The), Eth. farce 3 109. Making a Hit, Eth. farce, 2 scenes, i 19. Malicious Trespass, Eth. sketch... 3 149. 'Meriky . Eth. larce 3 1.51. Micky Free, Irish sketch 5 96. JIulnight Intruder, farce 6 147. Milliners Shop. Eth sketch 2 129 Moko Marionettes, Eth. eccentri- city, 2 scenes . . 4 101. MoUv Moriartv, Irish musical sketch 1 117. Motor Bellows, farce 4 158. Mr. Mikado, musical burlesque. . . 6 44. Musical Servant, Eth. sketch 3 8. Mutton Trial. Eth. sketch, 2 sc... 4 119. Mv Wife's Visitors, farce 6 WON BACK. A PLAY, IN FOUR ACTS By CLIFTON W. TAYLEURE. TOGETHER WITH A DESCRIPTION OP THE COSTUMES— CAST OF THE CHARACTERS — EN- TRANCES AND EXITS — RELATIVE POSITIONS OP THE PERFORM- EKS ON THE STAGE, AND THE WHOI^ OP THE STAGE BUSINESS. S6 1893 „' NEW YORK : J* S ^l^f O "* J/ THE DE WITT PUBLISHmG HOUSE, No. 33 Rose' Street. Copyright, 1892, by R. H. Rushell & Sou. WON BACK. CHARACTERS. PSZ<=I78 Hugh Eansome, of New York— Juvenile. Harold King, of Alabama— Leading. Austin BROOKEa, of Virginia — Eccentric. Fkank Powers, of Connecticut—First walking gentleman. Homer C. Cooke, of South Carolina — Comedy. Abner p. Decker, of Masisachusetts — Comedy. Miss Constance Bukwell, of Maryland— Star. Miss Lulu Osborne, of Philadelphia— Leading. Mrs. Adelgitha Barbour, of Virginia — Comedy. Miss Kate Barbour, her daughter. Soldiers and Citizens. TIME IN PLAYING— TWO AND A HALF HOURS. SCENERY. ACT I.— Handsomely furnished drawing-room of hotel in Washington, D. C, 1860. Doors c, R. 1 e. and l. 1 e.; tete-a-tete c; table, with pitcher, glasses, and bowl, ■L. c. ; chair and hassock near table, l. o. ACT II, — Same as Act I. ACT III. — Handsomely furnished drawing-room of hotel in New York City, 1861. Doors R. 1 E., L. 1 E. and c; windows in flat each side of c. d., running to floor. ACT IV. — View of camp of " Confederate " soldiers near Winchester, Va., on flat at back; small set cottage, rather dilapidated, used as officers' headquarters, r. 3 e.; small tabid or stand, with book on, in front of cottage, r. c; light snow falling; camp fire c. COSTUMES. Hugh Ransome. — Act I, Evening party tjr ball dress. Act II. Genteel morning dress. Act III, Uniform of Colonel of U. S. Volunteers. Act IV, Same uni- form, but somewhat worn and faded. Harold King.— Act I, Evening or ball dress. Act II, Genteel morning dres^;. Act III, Genteel travelling dress. Act IV, Uniform of Brigadier-General of Con- federate army. Austin Brookes. — Act I, Evening party or ball dress. Act II, Genteel morning dress. Act III, Stylish travelling suit, hat and gloves. Act IV, Uniform of Major in Confederate army. Homer Cooke.— Act I, Evening party dress. Act II, Neat walking costume, with hat and gloves. Act III, Same as Act II, in first part; in second part, clothes muddy and disarranged, coat torn up back. Act IV, Worn and ragged uni- form of Confederate soldier, sloucli hat. Abner Decker.— Act I, Evening party dress. Act II, Ordinary business suit, wMli hat. Act III. Same as Act II. Act IV. Rngged uniform of Confederate soldur. slouch hat, barefooted or with old, dilapidated shoes, beard long and neg- lected. /-? - ^93/1, WON BACK. 3 Frank Powers. — Act I, Genteel eveuiu;,' ciress. Act II, Stylit^b moviiiiig dress. Act III, Genteel business suit, with hat and gloves, in first part; uniform of Captain of United States Volnuteers in second i)art. Constance Burwell — Act I, Ball dress, rich but not gaudy. Act II, Stylish morn- ing costume. Act III, Genteel iilteruoon dress. Act IV, Dress of hospital nurse, witli badge of U S. Sanitary Commission. Lulu Osborne.— Act II, Stylish travelling costume, with hat and wrap, in first part; genteel afteruoou dress in second part. Act III, Genteel afternoon dress. i"\lKs. Barbour. — Act I, Evening pait.y dress, such as would be suitable for a woman of forty or over, fan, etc. Act II, Dark morning dress. Act III, Afternoon dress, witli evidences of a hasty toilet. Act IV, Clothes several years behind the fashion, but clean and whole; hat and wraps to correspond. K.ATE Barbour. — Act I, Evening party dress, with fan, etc. Act II, Stylish morning costume. Act III, Afternoon dress. Act IV, Dress old-fashioned, but neat and of good material; hat and wraps to correspond. PROPERTIES. Act I.— Fan for Mrs. Barbour; bottle of smelling salts for Abner; package of letters tied with ribbon for Hugh; portrait for do. Act II. — Note for Homer; same for Abner; gloves for Hugh. Act III. — " Extra " newspaiier for Austin; same for Homer and Abneri pocket- books with bills for Homer and Abner; roll of bank-notes for Austin; musket with sabre-bayouet, also bowie-knife, pistol, and havelock, for Abner. Act IV. — Barrel with both heads out. and holes in sides to admit arms of a man, for Homer; sword and revolver for Austin; musket with fixed bayonet for Abnek; pencil or fountain pen for Harold, also folded paper. STAGE DIRECTIONS. R. means Right of Stage, facing the Audience; L. Left; C. Centre; R. C. Right of Centre; li. C. Left of Centre; D. F. Door in the Flat, or Scene running across the back of the Stage; C. D. F. Centre Door in the Flat; R. D. F. Right Door in the Flat; L. D. F. Left Door in the Flat; R. D. Right Door; L. D. Left Door; 1 E. First Entrance; 2 E. Second Entrance; U. E. Upper Entrance; 1, 2 or 3 G. First, Second or Third Groove. R. R. C. C. L. C. L. ;Q®=" The reader is supposed to be upon the stage, facing the audieuce. WON BACK. SYNOPSIS. The characters in this play are types of the society in Washiugton, D. C, thirty years ago, with their charact'^ristics iuteusified by the stirriug scenes of the period. A fashionable " hop" iu a Washington hotel introduces most of them to the audi- dience, and shows that some of them at least, are seeking by the usual siibterhiges to better their fortunes, and others, younger, and more impressionable, are swayed by the tender passion to the point of fierce rivalry. The comedy element of the play is confined jnostly to Abneu Deckeb and Homer Cooke, a tyiJical New Englancler and a South Carolinian, and to Mks. Barbouk, a Virginia widow, no longer young, but still fond of gaiety and flattered by attention. Her daughter Kate, a lively girl, with two would-be lovers, is a pleasing character, who finds it rather hard to be serious under any circumstances. Hogh Ransome, a New York banker, shows him- self every inch a man; and Harold King, a blue-blooded Alabamian, led by his jealousy Jind disappointment to the verge of crime, at last developes the nobleness that is in him. Lulu Osborne (who marries Ransome) is a loveable young woman; and Constance Burwell, the heroine of the play, loved by both Ransome and King, is a noble character, and after many vicissitudes is "Won Back " by her first love. SYNOPSIS OF EVENTS. Act I. — Drawing-room, Arlington, Washington — 1860. "Whom first we love, you know, we seldom wed; Time rules us all; and life indeed is not The thing we planned it out, ere hope was dead. And then, we women cannot choose our lot.'' In fetters — The rivals— North and South— The coy widow — A noted duelist — An old affection — The dismissal— The rivals meet — "You shall answer for this'' — Farewell. Act II.— Same Scenk— 1860. "Who might have been — Ah, what, 1 dare not think I We all are changed. God judges for the best. God help us do our duty, and not shrink, And trust in Heaven humbly for the rest." Broken ties — A Vassar girl's idea of matrimony — A Washiugton savage — Schooling a lover — Affairs of honor— The Northern fire-eater — The missing challenge — Be- trothed. Act III. — Drawing-room in a New York Hotel — 1861. " With bayonets slanted in the glittering light, With solemn roll of drums, With starlit banners rustling wings of night, The knightly concourse comes." To arms! To arms!— Stand by the f|ag— A woman's duty— A skirmish in the parlor — On to Richmond— Reunited — The passing regiment. Act IV. — CoNPEDERATK Camp at Wincfiester — 1864. "No more shall the war cry sever, or the winding river be red; They banish our anger forever, when they laurel the graves of our dead.'' A coward's armor — A hand to hand struggle— Hugh captured—Sentenced to be shot— A ministering angel — Harold King's revenge — The attack on the camp — Death of King— .\fter the battle— ^^ou Back. WON BACK. ACT I. SCENE. — Drawing-room of a hotel in Wufildngton, furnished as usu- al. A Hop is in progress. Music. Enter Mrs. Barbour ns if overcome by heat, followed by Ho- mer Cooke with fait, and Abner loith salts, c. Mrs. Barbour (sitting langxidly on tete-a-tete, c). The room was insufferably warm ! I feel as if I should faint ! (both gentlemen bustling- ly offer assistance.) Homer (energetically f aiming her, r.) This will revive you, my dear Mrs. Barbour. A'&i^v.R (scolding at lloyiPAi). Of what use is a fan in a critical case like this? (fenderli/) Dear Mrs. Harbour, have a wliiff of these aromatic smelling salts; they are not very strong, {takes a whiff' himself . and is nearly suffocated) Not very strong. Mrs. B. (smiling on both). You are very kind, gentlemen — both. I don't know what I should have done without you. (cnqneltishly.) Homer {aside). All sarcasm, yet he won't take it, the stupid Yankee! Abner (aside). Hangs to her like a shadow, yet he calls himself a Southern gentleman. Tiie bully ! Homer (ti> Abxer, ./j«?rrfy). Sir! Did you speak to me, sir! ABNJiit (fii'rceli/). No sir ! Did you hear me speak, sir ? Homer. No, sir; but you looked as though you wanted to speak to me, sir. Abner. Not to yon, sir! I have better use for my time, sir. Homer. Peddling nutmegs or shoe-pegs, I suppose, sir. Abner (Jiercely). Sir ! Homer (aggressively). Sir ! Mrs. B. { pt'etending fatntness). Oh dear, how dizzy I feel ! (both as- siduously renew attentions.) Homer {runs and gets it from table). Take a drink of this ice-water. {offering it.) Abner (getting slop-bowl from table). TliaCs not ice-water; this is. Take a sip, dear Mrs. Barbour. Mrs. B. {looki)ig fondly from one to the other). Thank you. It will pass off in a minute, (the two lovers go ujy to table to return glasses ami ■nearly coUid.e.) Homer (aside). Why the devil don't he go ! The adhesive plaster ! Abner (aside). He won't see he's not wanted. The artesian bore ! G WON BACK. Mrs. B. I am afraid I danced too much. But these hotel hops are verj' enticing. Homer and Abxek {together). Oh, very. Mrs. B. Then I was .stirred into emulation by the example of Con- stance Burvvell and Harold King. How gracefully they danced. Homer. Awfully graceful. Abner. They are engaged, I believe ? Mrs. B. So report says. Homer. She certainly couldn't find a better husband hereabouts, if as good. Harold King comes from one of the blue-blooded families of Alabama. Mk.s. B. And Constance from one of the oldest families of Maryland. thmEH {(/ontHfiiJli/). Ye-es. But she has spent the best part of her life in the North, and, of course, has been atlected by her associations. Abner {bristling). Do you mean to insinuate, sir, that life in the free North isn't wholesome to the blue blood of the South ? Homer {l)ri.stling). I mean, sir, that birds of a feather should herd together. A-R'tiv.R {stieering). Flock together, sir! Birds flock, sheep herd. And pray, sir, why don't you stick to your flocks in the South ? HoMEii. For the same reason, I presume, that you left your herds in the North to come to Washington — I chose to do otherwise. Abner. Very much o///er-wise. (rt.svV/f?) Infernally stupid, /should say. {(ilnud) We can spare him if he wants to go back, eh, Mrs. Barbour ? Ha, ha, ha ! Mrs. B. You forget that I too am Southern. Abnkk. Oh, but you're the widow of a Northern man, and reside among Northern people. Homer {sneering). Both of which, I suppose you think possess a civilizing tendency ? Abner {cnfi7-seli/). Not always. They don't appear to have aflected you any. Ha, ha, ha ! Homer {(onioi/ed). No, sir, I am vaccinated — inoculated, I mean. Mrs. B. Unfortunately Mr. Cooke has not liad the full benefit of these influences. He is a resident of Washington, 'tis true, but not yet, like myself, a widow. Ha, ha, ha ! Abner. Ah, well. That isn't his 07il>/ misfortune, however. Homer. You are right, knowing you ought to count for something. Mrs. B. Two years ago Constance was engaged to Hugh Ransome, the New York banker, but he suddenly broke off the match, and began to pay attentions to Lulu Osborne, daughter of a rich mine owner of Penn.sylvania. Homer {dryly). Lucky Mi.ss Burwell. Mrs. B. What! For "being jilted— cast off by Hugh Ransome? Homer. No ; but for escaping from a Yankee lover, totally unworthy of her. Abner {ironiccilly). You (ire right. Of course inconstant lovers are confined wholly to the North. Whoever heard of a Southern man jilting his sweetheart ? Homer {threateningly). If you slander my section, I'll Abner {turning tip his cuffs). Try it, andyou'U spend the next month in a hospital. 51 RS. B. {starting vp apprehensively). Oh, gentlemen, please don't fight ! This excitement is too much— I shall faint ! Catch me ! {each starts to catch her; she falls, clafiping the neck of each.) Abner {furiously fanning her). Look up, Adelgitha— / am here ! WON BACK. 7 lIoMF.R (thrusting salts under her nose). Dear Mrs. Barbour, I won't )ii;iit, if you say so. Mus. B. {rerivlng). Where ;im I? Abner. At the Arlington House, beloved ! {tries to kiss her, repulsed by HoMEK.) Homer {glaring at Abner). Here ! here ! adored Mrs. Barbour ! {at- tempts to kiss her.) Abner {preventing). Coward! to take advantage of a dying woman. Homer {releasing Mrs. B.j. Coward ! come on ! Abner {releasing Mrs. B., who staggers). I'm your man ! Come on ! Enter, c, Kate, quickhi followed by Austin. Abner and Homer sud- deidy conceal their belligerence under affected smiles; Abner hums a song, and unobserved shakes fist at Homer, who responds. Kate {cvcitedly). Oh, mamma! who do you tliink is in town, here in this hotel ? Hugh Ransome ! Mrs. B., Homer, and Abner {together). Hugli Ransome ! Homer. Well, he must have tlie cheek of a bronze statue to come here ! Austin. If he is wise he will keep out of the way of King. Harold is a noted duelist, a dead shot, and Abner {interrupting). And wouldn't hesitate to murder his rival, I suppose. Austin. Murder him ! No, indeed. Harold King isn't that kind of a man, sir. He'd provoke him into a duel, and kill him; but 1 hope, Decker, you don't call that murder. Abnek. Well, it is considerably more decorous and — and — ceremoni- ous, but I'm afraid it amounts to the same thing. Homer. Mr. Decker is from the North, Austin, and is, of course, op- posed to dueling. Abner. No, sir, I am not. No, sir. If you, or anybody resembling you, think Abner Decker won't respond, quick, just let them invite me out. 'riiat's all. Austin. What, invite you out to "smile"? (Homer laughs good hu- mo redly.) Abner {glaring at Homer). Smile indeed ! No, sir; to fight ! Durn my hat! I don't know what fear is; I was born without it! Oh, that's me! (tcaltz music heard.) Kate. There's the waltz ! Come, Mr. Brookes; I wouldn't miss it for the world, {taking Austin's arm) And it's your favorite, nuimma. Hugh Ransome has no partner; come dance with him. Hurry ! [ Waltzes out with Austin, c. Mrs. B. Do you waltz, Mr. Cooke ? Homer. Well, I can go around a little. Abner {bursts into a loud laugh). So can a squirrel in a cage. But "going around" isn't waltzing. Ha, ha, ha ! Mrs. B. You waltz of course, Mr. Decker ? Abner {suddenly checking his laughter). Ahem ! Yes— yes I could, only I'm subject to vertigo. Homer. Ha, ha, ha ! "Oh no ! Tliat is no go. {Abi^er turns fiercely on him.) Mrs. B. No matter; I shall easily find a partner. You'll escort me to the parlor, won't you? {looking coquettishly from one to the other. Both dart for lizard and offer an arm.) Homer and .Abner {together, gallantly). Certainly! Allow me. 8 WON BACK. Mrs. B. {taking an arm of each. Tenderly). You really must learn to waltz, {looking from one lo the other id places her hnml m h/s.) Const. Oh no— no ! Harold. You fence with a feeling which in spite of all mistrust you know to be i)ure and intense. Why not conquer doubt with hope? Must the shadow of the past forever obscure the dawn of the future ? Const. Ah, my friend, we are not what we would be, but what we m)ist be; our real e.xistence has its springs less in what we (to than what we feel. Harold. Then 'tis for i//>i/r life, as well as for my own, that I plead. Once more I otier you a name, fortune, and power to fulfill your mis- sion. Once more I implore you to save and sanction the life I have dedicated to you I Stoop and raise me to your own i)ure height ! Be my wife ! Const. Your ofler is too precious to me, in worth and in honor, to be Tmhtly met, or lightly dealt with. I ask but time to rettect. Harold. Thmk of the years I have waited. Besides, have you for- gotten that one month ago you i)romised me your decision to-night ! CoNsr. I remembered, but hoi)ed you would not press for that de- cision. Harold. And why not, since my destiny liangs upon your answer? Const. Because — because — Oh ! I cannot answer you to-night. Harold. One question more. Pardon, but 'tis my right to ask it boldly; it is your duty to answer truly. Shall I go on ? Const, {njiprehcnsirelii). Ye-es! Better face the truth at once. Harold. Tins Hugh Ransome, who broke his troth to you, and as lightly plighted it to another, are you quite certain that all love for him has been extinguished? — that were he once again to re-enter your life, you would not again take his worthless heart into the precious "caress of your own. Const, {after pause). Quite certain. But T will not conceal from you that I have not forgotten the past; and if I iiause before your ardent 10 ' WON BACK. entreaties, it is because I am brave enough and honest enough not to give you at once, in excliange for i/oitr gifts qf name, fortune, love, a heart which at best is but a ruin I Hakolu {seiziiiy her hand). A ruin which, trust nie, dearest, I will yet rebuild ! Co.v^T. And now may I beg you to leave me to myself? Harold. Une more word. May I hope ? Const. {(iftHi- paH.se). Yes. Hope that peace may once more come to my heart, and content to yours. Harold {/,-iss/n/j her hainl). Thrice blessed word! Doubt not, my Constance, that faith shall yet justify this hope, and love crown both. [Ex/f, o. Const, {pomlering). It would be more than madness— it would be, criminal — longer to cherish this hope, which even treachery could not e.xtinguish. The being 1 once loved exists no more. The image which fancy seems ever to shape from the solitude left around the ruins of the past, is a phantom ! What I hear in the silence, and see in the lone void of life, is not a reality; 'tis but an ideal hero, born of my perished youth ! He who survives is but the hard, cold apt pupil of the world ! Tears ! Pshaw ! {forcuiij hack her emo/io/i) Weil, they but widen yet more the gulf which separates the i)resent from the past, (risitig) My decision is made. I will wed Harold King ! The ghosts of the past shall not forever scourge back the hopes of the future. (iNth oiithicrst of emotion) Yet, oh my God ! how shall I tear from my heart the memor- ies I have secretly cherislied there ! Enter, qnickhj, R. 1 e., Mrs. Barbour. Constance subdues her emo- tion, and affects a gaiety she does not feel. Ah, Mrs. Barbour, you come responsive to my wish. Does this flower become me? 'Tis not my color, you know;" but Harold gave it me, and for his sake I must wear it. He is to be Mr?. B. {interrn)itiiig). Have vou seen him, my dear? Const. {Ugh tin). Seen hun ? Who? Mrs. B. Hugh Ransoine. He is here ! Const. Great Heaven ! Hugli Ransome here ! Mrs. B. Yes, here in this house. He saw you enter this room with Harold King, and then rushed to see me, and unburthen himself of his griefs. If you could only have heard his bitter self-reproaches you wonlcl have said the man had committed some horrible crime. Const. Was there nothing criminal then in his encouragement of a woman's sacred aflections, only to trample upon them afterwards? Mrs. B. Criminal indeed ! Of course not. That's an every-day af- fair. Men thinlv no more now-a-days of changing sweethearts than of changing their boots. Const. I cannot view Hugh Ransome's treachery in any such indulg- ent light; {going) and I have no wish ever to see him again. Mrs. B. But you must see him. dear, or there will he trouble between him and Mr. Kinir; perhups a duel. If so, I wouldn't give ten cents for Hui!,']i Ransome's life. Const, (a/arined). His life ! Oh heavens ! They must not meet ! Mrs. B. But they have met. my dear. Co\sr. (ni)prehen> Ah ;\iss Lulu Osborne. Of course she dances bewitchingly? You weio always fastidious in matters of personal grace. llmiu {gravely). I did not bring Miss Osborne with me; nor am I minded to dance. T ifl?f^'''' r^° • ^^ '^^'' "'^"' '^^^^'^ ^'■'""■^ you here ? Not office -seeking, 1 hope There are now a thousand applicants for every vacant post Nor in the interest of tlie lobby. The honesty of the average member of Congress is sometliing perfectly awful in its grandeur. Ha, ha, ha ' 11UGH. Is it possible tliat you liave forgotten that you demanded from me the return of your letters ? CoN.ST. {laughing) Pardon the dereliction, but I really had forgotten. It will be a source of constant regret to me if, through any misunder- standing of myrecpiest, you have put yourself to the inconvenience of by Sf " '" ^'^^^^"' ^^'^^" -^'"^ ""^''^^ j"*^ ^^ ^^'*^" ^'^''^ -^^"^ ^''«"' Hiujii. I counted no inconvenience too great to manifest my respect lor your command. j i <-" Const, {sarcastic). Oh, you are very kind ! ail he?" ^^*^'*"^ ViK^l^-cge of letters tied with riljlwn). You will find them S?rn'll"'/''7';'/'?-''?!-7 ■""'^- Thanks, {aside) He has kept the portrait! myttdKJnto-day!"" '^"'" ""^^"'"^ "^' ' P''^^"'"^" ^ '"^^' ^'^'^ ^^(^'^f7i. (*«'•tv^s•^/o•). Indeed ! From the rei)orts of vour engagement to Mi^s Osborne I thought you long since held vour " freedom " wholly unfettered. I could not flatter myself that y..u had rested content in Jy cliains till now. -^ Hugh {deprecafingly). I did not so mean it. The only chains of yours 1 over felt, were chains of flowers. Thev would have proven as hooks of steel, had I thought my love returned. CoNsT._ {laugJiing). A very ^ise and proper doubt. 'Tis evitlent in questioning your constancy I have dealt unjusllv witii your prudence Hugh. For Heaven's sake spare me your sarcasms. Has tiiis final parting no sadness in it for vou ? Coxsr. Sadness! Ha, ha', ha! What for ? Certainly not for so or- dinary occurrence as broken faith or shattered trust. Oh no no ' In tlie wide waste of life f/iut is too pettv a thing to claim more than u passmg thouQ;ht— a l>ityinj> smile! ^v'-n {painf nil,/ surprised (If her tone). Yet those letters breathe 1 a (litlerent sentiment \vlien you wrote them. CoN.sr. Di^d they ? Ah. fond and trusting simpleton that I was ! Ha, na, ha! Who think yon would write, as all do, to the objects of their lancv, could they fore.see the end of their little heart-romances? But oil no ! We all believe the vows, which tli«^n we pli-ht, to be eternal ! rta, na, ha! OMrr.s^ have awakened to rude and cruel disappointment. 11 1.-. true. Ah. they never loved truly ! But we— oh ire are the happy exceptions to the rule. Ha, ha, ha !" The error is pardonable, thou^-h common: the variety beautiful, though trite. Shall we then blame it because you and I survive it ? Never ! Never ! Ha, ha, ha ! WON BACK. 13 HufiH. Yesterday I would have scarcely contradicted you; today your words fall as lieavilv ui)Ou uiy heart as clods of earth upon tlie coffin of one loved and lost. I will not quarrel with your laughter, though I feel how impossible 'tis for iiie to lift, witliout emotion, from the face of our dead past the pall which covers also the fondest illusions of youth, hope, and love. CoNsi'. (.■iurcas/iaill//). Your reproof is generous— very ! But really, did you expect to tind me ill over your — wU/ulj-itwa.l from my " fetters"; lean witii regret; pallul with suffering, and shriveled up with despair? Ha, ha, ha ! If so, I am very sorry for your disappointment. Icartse/j- ■i)i'/) lia, ha, ha! Hugh {bitterly). I am glad to tind. Miss Burwell, that it costs you no pain to give me up. Coxsr'; None whatever. Ha, ha, ha ! There are hearts which cling in life to one faith long after its shrine has been shattered, and which die when its faith has p'erished. But those are instances which exist, I fear, only in the pages of romance, or in the seldom-written annals of broken-hearted w'omen. Hl'gh. They slander, then, who say that woman's heart changes liglitly ? Const. Of course they do ! Accusations against woman's constancy are uttered chietlv bv poets, themselves the least constant of human kind. But we are extending this discussion. We women are but slaves of society, you know, and dare not disregard the duties which society imposes upon us; the duty of subordinating the heart to socie- ty — i)f holding worldly wisdom sui)erior to romance. ' Htuiii. Worldly wisdom /»«?/ grow out of experience; but youth is born only of feeling. Co.ssr. {tdJilaUzhi'j!)!). Rash man I Beware how you utter such heresy in the ears of society 1 HiHJii. For pity's sake cease your mockings. Every word you utter is like a stab to my heart! Think you I suffer no pain in this separa- tion ? And yet, while it requires all the strength of my manhood to repress the cries I dare not utter, you can speak of separation only to laugh at it ! Const. {wifkjh(sh of scodi). And is that your thought? You see in your agitation only the heroism of love — a love which surrenders all it would itlie to retain, and yet loves on ! You read in my — calmness, only the indifierence of an inconstant nature, and in i/our suflering the endurance of a martyr ! Ha, ha, ha, ha ! This is the very apotheosis of self-love. Hugh. Of self-love? Const, {hi/ferl//). Yes; a self-love which could deliberately wreck all the fond hopes centred upon you, yet when touched !)y an apprehended loss of the love it had rejected, woiild now feign an emotion it long since ceased to feel ! Hugh. Feign ! By Heaven, you wrong ine ! C(»NST. I speak truly. You are wounded, not because I bleed, but because you do not see m.\' suffering; because instead of springing to clasp your hand m pained api)eal, I recede from your approach with in- difference. You would be better pleased could you awaken in my heart that Past, which flattered your vanity while it assailed my peace; could you regain once more, once more to fling away, the love your truth had failed to keep ! But, (iri//i c?nV.>.w/) jiardon me, iMr. liansome, no ut- terances of mine can ever enable you to know me as I am. The chasm 14 WON BACK. which separates us is too wide and deep to be bridged by words ! And so let us shake hands and part — as friends ! Hugh. No, no ! You have niisjiidged me! I reahze now iiow pre- cious, bow peerless is the love I nii:j;]it have worn, jewel-like, upon my heart ! I fuel the wrong I did you — the wrong I did myself, and am prepared to repair with all my future the error of the past ! Const. What mean you ? Hugh. I mean that, condemned without a hearing, banished without regret, I yet return to regain the place in your heart I had thoughtlessly vacated. I find it barred against me by one whom your smile honors far beyond his worth. But I will not be thus ousted by a trickster. 1 will Const. A trickster ! Of whom speak you ? Hugh. Of Harold King, who — — Const. Foi' shame ! Is t'lis your idea of manhood ? First to sport with the faith of a trusting woman, and then insult the friend who would rescue her from the depths of your betrayal ! Hugh Ransome, there remains to be said between us but one word more, {finnly) Fare- well ! (anddenlii chaugiiir/ from (/rare to gay) Be assured I no more re- tain you in my fetters. Ha, ha, ha ! {turning aicai/.) Hugh. And is it thus we part? Then so be it! I leave you free to wed another. But his love can bring you no joy that my heart will not already have mvoked for you. Adieu ! [Ri/shes out, c. Const, {stagnen^ and gntsjiti diatr for support). He is gone! Back to the world, and I am left alone ! {looking at letters) What use now are these fond records of faded dreams — of passionate hoi)es, which mock at despair — life's lost blossoms, withered in their bloom — memorials only of decay and death ? Gone ! AH gone ! Nothing for me now but vain regrets— tears, ceaseless tears ! {falls on tete-a-tete and buries her face, sobbing m her hands.) Re-enter, v.., Hugh, vdh poiirait. Hugh. I had forgotten your portrait, {she springs up) What! in tears, Constance ? Gossr. {lairghvig). In tenrsl Ha, ha, ha! Why should I weep ? That you never once praised the toilet upon which I spent hours of serious thought ? Nor even once repeated the trite but pretty compliments with which, on former days — before you escaped from my "fetters" — you praised the eloquence of my eyes, the music of my voice, the grace of my every movement ? Ha, ha, ha ! Tin^se omissions are enough, I grant you, to drive many women to desjjair; but, you see, I bear mi/ deprivations not only without tears, but — Ha, ha, ha !— even with laughter, {waltz music heard) Ah, there is the music, and I am pledged to Harold King for the next waltz, (moving gaihi fjack, she staggers; grasps sofa for su/jport, and by a desperate effort forces herself to smile.) Enter, c, quickly and excitedly, Harold. Checks himself at c. d. and stands gloomily icdh folded arms. Hugh {adrancmg to her). Great Heavens ! You suffer ! I have de- ceived myself then. HxROUi) {advancing he/ iref'n them). No! You have deceived her, and for that deceit you shall answer to me! WON BACK. 15 Hugh (eagerly). With all my heart, sir, whenever and wherever }'ou please! (Constancy ict//i a shriek springs betiaeen them.) Const. Oh no, gentlemen ! — not that, I entreat you ! — not that ! Enter, c, quiddij, Mrs. B., Kate, Austin, Fijank, Abnek, and Homer. Omnes. "What is the matter ? Const, (loi/h forced ci>nij)osure). Oil nothing; the heat of the room momentarily affected me; that is all. Your arm, Mr. King, {/a/res //is arm, and in an intense whisper, aside to him) Not another word ! For vnj sake! {aloud, gaih/) Come; we shall be late for the waltz. Mr. Ransome (with low eurtsey) once more Hugh (iidvancuig with extended hand). Once more. Good-bye ! Const, (at door, impressivebj). No, not good-bye, but — Farewell ! {curtsey. Waltz, forte. Picture. modekate curtain. ACT H. SCENE.— A?rtJ«e as before. The next morning. Music. Enter, c, Kate aiid I^ulu Osborne, the latter in travelling costume. Kate. What a lovely surprise, Lulu. New York must be awfully dull without you. Lulu. My coining is nothing unusual, Kate. Papa brings me to Wasliington every winter. He has so many interests at stake, you know — steamsiiip lines and iron mines ' Katk (i)ilern(pUn'. Kate. Yes; subdues them, as it were. But confess. Lulu, that in spite of your aliected ignorance, you knew of Hugh Eausome's presence at Washington, and timed your visit accordingly. Lklu. 1 knew nothing whatever about it — had not heard from him for n\er a fortnight. K vii;. Not heard from him in a fortnight ! — two weeks, fourteen days, three hundred and thirty-six hours ! And calls himself a lover ! I in- sist upon mij sweethearts writing me one note every day, Sundays includei!. Lui.r. Sweethearts! In the plural, eh? How many have you, Kate ? Katic (ih^iiiiii-elii). Only two at present. Lulu. Who is lite, man ? Katk. Now you won't tell, will you? Mind, this is in the strictest confidence. Austin Brookes, a young Virginian, with plenty of money, and awfully jealous. Lulu (r/rareli/). That's bad; jealous lovers may make good masters, but not good husbands Katk. There can be no love without jealousj'. Honestly, aren't you jealous of Mr. Ransome ? Lulu. No! Katr. Not in the slightest degree, ever so little, the tiniest bit ? Lulu. Not in the least. Katr. Then you don't love him. You can't humbug me with that sort of nonsense. Lur.u. It is all a matter of temperament. Are you engaged to this Mr. Brookes ? Kate (pniifinr/). No-o. That is, I think not. Of course we've both talked a whole lot of the usual nonsense about being born for each other, and dying if we can't get each other, etcetera; but nothing deti- nite has been settled yet. Mamma saj's we are too young to marry. Lulu. Well, she ought to know. Kate. Yes; considering that she ran away with pa, and married him, before she was seventeen, {poiitui'j) But that's the way with old folks generally. They say to us young folks, "Oh, {/imids ■upUfte.d) you mustn't "do tJmt ; it won't be proper, you know," and put on such jiious airs that no one would ever suspect Ihein of knowing "how it is your- self,' you know. Yet there are very few of the naughty-nice things of life niiich these blessed old saints haven't had their share of; yes, and more too. WON BACK. 17 Lulu {laughing). They would be bad advisers if deficieot in experi- ence. Who is the other lover ? Kati:. Mr. — stop awhile; I've got to think of his name. Oil, Frank Powers, of New York— a friend of your Mr. Ransonie. Lulu (langlung). Not know the name of your lover? Oh Kate ! Kate \iuuuceni!y). Well, 1 never met him in all my life till last night; (IjrigkteiUiig) and names don't amount to much anyway, unless you're going to be married to one; then they are very important. Lulu. This is a case of love at tirst sight, then ? Kate. Certainly — on hts side. That is the only way the genuine article comes. The second-sight kind is all make-believe. Lulu. Juliet was Romeo's second love, and Mr. Ransome tells me / am his second; yet I know he loves me better than his lirst, whoever sht: may have been. Kate (senous/i/). Well, now, don't you bet on that, child. {hrigJiten- i'lg) Mr. What's his-name danced three sets with me in succession, and oh my ! wasn't Austin jealous ! Ha, ha, ha! Lulu. You evidently enjoyed it ? Ka I'E. Of course I did. It shows that a girl is of some importance wlien the fellows get to wrangling about her. I'd give the world if some of tliem would only get up a duel about me. Ll;lu ^.s■//ot■^v(/). A duel ! Oil Kate ! Kate. Yes, a duel ! They needn't tight, you know; very few duels result in that. There is either an "amicable adjustment," or the police mterfere, or something of that sort. Why, I know ladies — real tip-top society ladies — who would like to have their lovers scalped, just for "the notoriety of the thing. Lulu {shorh-ed). Oh ! Well, but only Indians do that. Kate. Ila, ha, ha! Oh, how awfully "fresh" you are ! and you a New York girl too. My dear child, doiVt make the mistake of thinking that the only savages in this great and glorious country dwell among the lava-beds of the Far West. I have seen lots of them here in the private parlors of Washington. Lulu. Savages in Washington! Kate. Right you are. Only they wear dress coats and white neck- ties, and kill with slanderous tongues, instead of tomahawks and scalp- ing knives. Lulu {Umghinghj). And how do j^ou like Mr. What-do-you-call-hini Powers ? Kate. Very much, and that notwithstanding he is a Northern man. Lulu. Well, is that a i)ersonal disqualitication hereabouts ? Kate. W-e-11, it isn't really; but society in Washineton is divided into North and South by a sort of social Mason and Dixon's line. I'm a Virginian, you know, and so, of course. I'm on the DixiR side of the line. {li>nks amiinJ) Sh ! Here comes Austin ! {with suppressed giggle) In the sulks yet. See me cure him. Enter, c. D., slowly and sullenh/, Austin. Kate a feels not In see Jmn. Well, as I was saying, we had a perectlv lovely time. I danced three Sets with Mr. -XusTiN. Gootl-morning, Miss Barbour. Kate (frigidhj, scdrve.lti tnrninn around^. Good-morning, Mister Brookes, {resuming eonrersation) Three sets with'Afr. Austin. I wanted to speak to you, but as I find you are not alone — 18 WUN BACK. Kate {coldlij introducing Imr). This is my friend, Miss Lulu Osborne. Mr. Austin Broolies, Lulu. ya-inkin/e) Come on ! Abner {following him). All right. Come on ! Mrs. B. {seizing each I,y the coal-tail). You shall not go, gentlemen, i ou shall not ! There will be bloodshed ! Homer. Of course there will be— buckets full of blood! He has brought it all on himself. He has voluntarily sought death by abusing mo. and through me, the social dignity, the "civic grandeur, the consti- stilntional rights of my native South. Come on! [trying to break an-ay.) Abner {struggling to release himself). I am ready and willing. You have provoked an untimely death by sneering at the "courage, the virtue, and the superior intelligence of the free and independent North, all of wliich arc personilied in me ! Let me go, Adelgitha. I am desperate ! {strni/ghng.) Homer. So am I. Don't hold me, dear Mrs. Barbour; you only make matters worse. Besides, you may tear my coat. WON BACK. 23 Mrs. B. No, you shall not go ! You shall not light! {shrieks.) Enter, c. D., quickly, Kate and Austin. Kate and Austin {together). What is the matter? Mks. B. Help me to hold them ; they are going to tight a duel !* Homer and Abnek {toijether). Will you let us go, or not? Austin. Certainly, if you will both sacredly promise to tight. Homer a)ul Abnek {togethrr). We do— we do! Austin. Release them', Mrs. Barbour, (she dne.-^ .w) There. The cars start for Bladensburg at twelve. Or, if you jirefer it, you can quietly blaze away at each other in the tifty-foot lot at the back of my ollice. Homer. Agreed I That suits me. Abnek. And me too. Austin. Which proposition do j'ou prefer ? Homer and Abneii {together). Both ! Both of 'em, sir. HoMKR {sUirting). Come on! Abn'er {starting). The sooner the better! Kate {aside to' him). Oh, stop them, Austin. They are desperate. Homer. Stop ! Now that I think of it, as this combat is likely to prove fatal to one of us Abner. Fatal to one or botli of us. Homer {gulping). It occurs to me that I had better make my will tirst. Abni;r {readili/j. Certainly. That's wise. Make your will before you die, sir. Homer. I have a great deal of real estate to dispose of Abner. And 1 a large amount of four-per-cent. bonds Homer. .And my affairs being very complicated, I need time to straighten them out. Abner {niagnfcnimously). Certainly, sir. Take all the time you want, now. Where you are going, sir, you'll have no further use for time. Homer {grandUj). Very well, sir. I shall be ready for you iu four weeks from to-day. Abner. Agreed ! You may issue invitations to your funeral four weeks from to-day. Homer {pompously). Gentlemen — ladies— I salute you. {hows grave- ly to them — makes contemptuous face at Abner) Worm ! {Exit, c. D. Austin ( unnking at Kate). I aiii glad. Decker, your little affair has been put off. Abner {heroically). I am not. I wanted to have it off my hands at once. Kate. Oh, Mr. Decker, I had no idea you were such a desperado. Austin. But you forget you have an affair of mine to arrange. You couldn't, in common fairness, die till that is settled, you know. Abner. True; 1 had forgotten. Ah, well, that reconciles me to the delay. Kate {anxiously). What affair do you refer to, Austin ? You don't mean to tell me that you have challenged that insignificant Mr. Powers? Austin {grandly). I do. My honor has been assailed. He struck me in the nose, before you, and I have challenged him to mortal combat. Kate {aside, gleefully). Glorious! A duel! and all on my account. Oh. won't that be jolly. Austin. Only blood can wash out such an insult. The issue is, his life, or mine ! 24 WON BACK. Kate (aside, apprehensivelij). Oh Lord ! (almid, anxioushj) But per- haps he won't tight. Abner. Oh, won't lie ! He's llie most unquenchable tire-eater I ever saw. Ka'i'e. When is the tiglit to take place, and where ? Ais.fER. It isn't settled yet; but of course it will be at Bladensburg at daybreak to morrow. (Kate starts suddenl// up the staye) Where are you going, Kate ? Katk. To tell the police! A girl has trouble enough to find a beau, without being sulijected to the chance of his throwing his life away after she has has gut him ; so I shall simply inform the authorities. {She vMiis out, c. D. Austin. Kate! Stop her, Decker! Kate, if you disgrace me I'll never speak to you again. Dash it, she's in earnest. Stop, Kate ! [Runs out, c. D. Abner (foUnnung rapidl//, shouting). Head her ofl", Austin ! This tight must not be interrupted. Mrs. B. Mr. Decker, do you know what the penalty is in this District for bearing a challenge ? Abner (impatient to get out). No, ma'am; and, meaning no rudeness, I don't want to know. Mrs. B. One year's imprisonment! Abner.. Thunder (fails into sent in consternation.) Mrs. B. And a tine of one thousand dollars ! Abner. And lightning ! [Runs out rapidly, R. 1 E. [Exit Mrs. B., l. 1 e,, laughing. Enter, c, Constance and Harold. Const. Thank Heaven that I have found you in time ! You must not tight Hugh Ransome. Do you understand ? Harold. I confess that I do not understand. Const. What right have you to set such a claim upon imj heart as shall render the attempt of another to win it a crime deserving death ? What instinct of true honor can demand the assassination of Hugh Ransome? Harold {indignant). Assassination ! You speak without thought, I trust ? Const. Assassination is the word. You are skilled in the use of weapons: he is not. You by training and inclination are a duelist; he, by education and through conscience, is opposed to the practice. Yet you would play his pride against his soul, and force him into a duel, only that you may remove from your path a rival in love ! I tell you, Harold King, that if this duel goes on, and you kill Hugh Ransome, no matter what the world may say of it, in the eye of God, and under your own conscience, the act will be one of deliberate murder ! Harold. You are mad to talk thus. He humiliated you by casting you oir, and would, if be dared, supplement that wrong to you by insult to nie. Const. He has neither humiliated me nor insulted you. You have no right therefore to demand his life. "Harold. Then by man's last desperate law — the law of self-defence — I will takp. the riglit; the right to avenge for a deceived woman her de- fraud(Kl past— to secure for her an unquestioned freedom in the future! Const. I ask from you no cliampionship. My wrongs, such as they are, I leave to the arbitrament of Heaven. WON BACK. 25 HviioLU. Then I shall acl in behalf of my own peace, which he has assailed. Goxsr. 'Tis not so. No act of his fairly menaces your peace. You palter with your conscience in making the assertion. You will com- prouiise with crime if you brine; harm to Iiim! H\ROi.D {enra.ijed). Go not too far in your defence of Hugh Ransome ! 'Tis little you care what comes to me, so you but save Iiis life, to bless it witli your love ! Const, {indignant). Harold King! How dare you speak thus to me? Haroi.d. Because truth and right speak witli my voice. You rejected my otlered hand to-day, because you dared not wound his pride, and so sacrificed instead my peace ! By Heaven ! he shall not live to boast his triumph over my heart! GoNsr. Rash inan ! Are you so blinded by the passion of revenge as not to see that your words tlireaten my lionor as a woman ? Harold. What word of mine, I demand in the name of the purest womanhood, menaces a woman's honor? Const. What word? Every word you have spoken! Suppose I sluaUl pjrmit tliis duel— should permit you to kill this man, whose only offence is, that lie loves me, and. afterwards wed his slayer ? Would you not not feel that your name was dislionored with something more than shame, if she who bore it had been the cause of the murder ? Hakold (unfirUij). By Heaven, you must not repeat that word ! Const. Is there no dishonor in "the smile of a woman, if men, when gazing at her, can say, " In that smile is a grave "' ? By all the human laws of man's heart— by all the sanctities of woman's honor — by the dread wrath of God himself, I forbid this crime ! Harold. Too late ! I have gone too far to recede. Const. Then 1 swear to j^ou by my every hope of heaven, that unless j'ou recall your challenge — unless your menace against Hugh Ransome's life be withdrawn, I will never again speak to you, except to say fare- well ! Harot.d {itfler a paHS(i). And if I spare his life — this enemy who has forced himself between my heart and its happiness — you will not wed him ? On your soul's peace, I demand a truthful answer. Const. {<-;:in:i>-> '///). Wed him? Is he free to offer mo his hand? Harold. By Heaven, you evade the truth ! You dare not avow what you feel. He is not free to wed you with honor, liut he will tnk'^ his free- dom, and together, in the plenitude of your joys, you would mock at my desolation. Const. No, no ! You wrong us in that. Harold (f/uic/di/). Wrong n.s ! Ha ! Already in thought you coui)le him with yourself ! Beware, woman, how you provoke the storm in a man's heart! Beware now you play fast and loose with a man's despair ! Const, {firnili)). You wrong me. Put my truth, my strength, to any test, and I will approve them to your satisfaction. Habold {qiiicklu). Ha ! Say you so ? Then I will put you to the test. Swear by your honor never to wed without my consent, (she s/irinkx from him) Ha ! You shrink away from me. You are willing to sacri- fice my peace, but not to jeopardize your own. I am answered, {mcii^ ncingly) It remains now but for me to act. Const. Stop ! You are not yet answered. One question more, ere I too (tct. If I pledge my soul to this cruel oath, will you too swear that you will recall your challenge, and that under no circumstances will you lift your hand against his life ? Harold {fii'mly). Yes. Under no circumstances will I menace Hugh 26 WON BACK. Raiisome's life, unless war should arise, and we meet upon the field of battle. This I solemnly swear upon my soul— ui)on my honor ! Is it a compact ? Const, (extending her hand, in intense whisper). It is. I swear it! (releases her hand) Now leave me alone, (she staggers, he springs for- ward and supports tier with arm about her a-aist, ardently kissing her disengaged hand.) Enter, r. e., excitedly, HuGir. Hugh (aside). Ha ! In his arms ! (aloud, in intense suppressed an- ger) I was informed, sir, you proposed sending me a personal communi- cation. It has not yet reached me. I trust your prudence has not had the better of your passion. Const, (springing forward). Hugh! — Mr. Ransome ! Harold (with forced calmness). 1 understand your taunt, but (with triumphant glance toward Constance) can now aflbrd to despise it. It, however, comes fitly from a man who broke his pledge to one woman, and would break it to another, did i permit it. UviiH (angered). Did you permit it ! So you arrogate to yourself authority over her actions ? (crossing excitedly to Constance) You heard what that man says, Miss Burwell; does it cover any recent decision of yours '! Does he speak with your consent — with your sanction ? Const, (in bated breath, standing erect and passive, with tlie intensi- ty of suppi-essed emotion). I — I Harold (in irhisper to her, aside). His life, remember ! Const. Oh, my God ! what can I say ? (covers her face tvilh hands.) Harold (triumphantly). Are you answered, sir? Hugh, (fiercely). No, sir— not yet! The answer /will demand, you alone can give— if your prudence will permit. Enter, c. d., Mrs. B., Frank, Austin, Kate, Lulu, Homer, and Abner. Harold makes an aggressive move, but smilingly restrains himself. Const. Hugii ! For my sake ! (aside to Harold) Take me aw:iy ! HuoH. (apart, furiously). Siie whispers to him ! He has triumphed ! (seeing LuLii) Ha! Lulu. She at least is true, (advances quickly, and takinn Lulu's hand, leads her forward) Miss Burwell, it gives me pe- culiar pleasure to present to ycii Miss Lulu Osborne, my betrothed wife ! (Ihe two ladies curtsey.) Const, (faintly). AH is over ! (tottering.) Lulu. She is fainting! (Austin darts if orward and sustains her.) Harold (to Hucii, icith lialed breath). Coward! Hugh (furiously, striking Harold in the fac^. with his glove). Liar! Harold (busting into an aggressive rage). A blow ! The dog shall (\\el (darti72g forward, at the same time thrusting his hand into his breast pocket, as if to draw. Mrs. B., Kate, and^ Lulu shriek.) Const, (starts jforward, seizing Harold's hand). Your oath ! Re- member ! Animated Tableau. QUICK CURTAIN. WON BACK. 27 ACT III. SCENE. — Sitting-room in a New York hotel — 1861. At rise of curtain viilitarij music, atith drums. Shouts of a multitude. Enter, c, Austin, in travelling costume, glancing over "E.rtra.'" Austin. By Jove! The attack on Sumter has aroused the entire North. Then- wrath is certainly urand, and 1 admire it. Since we 7nust light, I am glad we are to have a foeman worthy of our steel. Enter, l. 1 E., Kate. K\TK {with extended hands). ^Ye\come back to America ! I wish I could say to the United States. Austin. I don't wish anything of the kind. The two sections have been shaking tists at each other for over tifty years; lighting is now in order. K.viK. Oh, well, of course there will be some lighting, but not much. Austin {graneti/). Well, I think there irifl be. People as brave as ours, both North and South, haven't rolled up their cuffs merely for tlie excitement of turning them down again. My own impression is, that the war will be very "desperate, and the lighting such as the world will sicken to hear of. Kate. Antl that is why you hastened l)ack from Europe ? Austin. Certainly. 1 should despise myself if I shirked my duty now, so have returned expressly to cast my lot with the South, and stand or fall in her defence. K.-V'E {impulsivetij ofering her hand). You noble fellow ! You may kiss me for that speech ! Austin. With all my heart, {kisses her.) Enter, c, quickly, Frank. He starts back, surprised. Frank. Excuse me; I am very near-sighted, you know, {recognizing him) What ! my old-time rival and antagonist, {shafcing hands heartihj) I am glad to see you. Kiss her again. Y"ou have my consent. Katk (l((u.ghingly recedes). I'ou are very liberal in giving away what is not your own. FitANK. Certainly. And I particularly commend to you, Brookes, the adage which bids us never look a gift horse in the mouth. KArK {affecting to he offendeil). Gift horse ! Me ! 1 should like to see any one attempt to look into mii mouth. - Frank. Got over all my nonsense, Brookes, after that affair of ours a year ago; and I'm too much occupied in national affairs now to think of anything else. By the way, 1 suppose you are back to do your duty ? 1 won't ask on which side. Austin. Oh, you needn't hesitate. This is a sectional war. 1 shall light, if light I must, under the banner of my mother State, grand old Virginia. Frank. And /under the banner of Right and Justice, the banner ot the Union. , , , , , , Austin. We of the South, descendants of those grand old rebels w'ho established the principle thnt the consent of the governed is necessary to the government, believe that both right and justice are on our side. 28 WON BACK. FitANK. That's a delusion we will have to cure you of. 'We've got five men to three, and we mean business. ' Austin. We would be degenerate sons of noble sires, did we stop to count odds where liberty is involved. We can but oiipose your con- victions with our own, and give to your great power, should God bless you witii success, the protest of our dead bodies. Filter, c. D., qniddij, Mrs. B. Shakes hands cordially vith Austin. Mrs. B. I heard you were here, and came down e.xpressly to see you, witiiout completing my toilet, {shakes hands also with Frank.) Kate. 7y/rLD. Yes, with all my heart! Hugh Ransome, that battle-field shall bo a welcome one which brings you face to face with my revenge! 36 WON BACK. Hugh. It shall be doubly welcome if it deals but justly with my own and my country's foe ! Hauold. We shall see. (fo Constanck) 1 have kept mi/ oath; remtjiii- bor your own ! Do you hear, Hugh Ransome ? She weds >ji<^ or noiK- Come, Austin. [Bus/n-s out it. 1 b., followed hi/ Airsii\ Hugh. Never you, if m}' sword can prevent! (to Constanoe) On((> more, farewell ! [R/is/ies out, l. 1 b., followed by FitANic. Const. Forever! {site falls into chiilr. The inarch becomes forte, mingled with shouts. The troops Jile past the U'indow.) Animated Tableau. MODERATE CURTAIN. ACT IV. SCENE. — A Confederate camp on the ontskirts of Winchester, Va., in 1864. Music, "Maryland, My Maryland." Snow is falling. Enter, k. 1 e., Austin Brookes^ in uniform of a Confederate major, driving before him Homer, veri/ ragged and wretched, in a barrel, inscribed "Coward," /«n;«»r/ arm-holes, through which his arms project. Austin {severely). Here, move on, you infernal coward ! Homer {saluting). All right, Major. I say. Major, how much longer am 1 to wear this armor ? Austin. One week more, if you are not killed in the meantime. HoyiEii {despondently). Oh Lord! {u-ith sudden energy) Damn the war, I say ! Austin. What did you enlist for, if you didn't like it? Homer. But I didn't enlist, Major; I was conscripted. I told them I was a Quaker and a British subject, but they u-ould have me as a war- rior; and here I am. Au.sTiN {smding). You liked it well enough in '61, I remember. Homer. Ah, yes. That was before the real lighting commenced. Austin (sternly). Well, cowards are of no use on either side, and should our alert enemy again attack us, as he has twice done in the past month, General King's orders are, that you be sent to the front as a breastwork for braver men. [Mxit, k. I e. Homer {looking stenlthilii around, in bated breath). Damn General King ! {louder) Not individually, but on general principles, {goes up cautiously.) Enter, l, 1 K., Abner, barefooted, irearing beard, ragged uniform, very old slouch hat, very bright musket. Abn'er {lej-elling gun). Here, here! Where are you sneaking off to, you (hirned skunk ? Homer {hastening forward). I d-don't know, Sergeant. WON BACK. 37 Abxer. Of course you don't. Wliat does a cuss like 3'ou know, any- how ? I'll l)et you don't even know wliat you're lii;-litln,ii,- about. Homer. You'll win that bet, Sergeant. "Besides, as a matter of fact, I ain't fighting. I'm a Quaker. Aknkr. a non-combatant, eh ? So much the worse for ?/o». A man wlio won't light in such a cause as ours, is no soldier, and don't deserve to wear the uniform of one. Homer {concUuilortj). Well, but I'm not in uniform, Sergeant.' Abner. Of course you're not. Can't I see ? I wonder tliey didn't dress you in petticoats. That's the sort of uniform for you. (Jiercely) What are you good for, anyhow ? Homer {meeJdi/). For breastworks, General King says. • Abxer {scar »f ally). Breastworks ? What soldier would want to be protected by such an or" nary cuss as yont {levelling muskel) I've a great mind to unload my musket right into your carcase. Homer (Jullimj on k)iee^, dis((ppears in barrel and reappears again). P-p-please don't f-tire. Sergeant, for the sake of my f-family. Ab.ver. Family ! You don't really mean that any woman would tie herself to a nondescript like you ? Are you married ? Homer. N-not exactly, but — — Ab.\ei{ {fiercehj). Then what business have you witli a faunly ? Homer yalarmed). I haven't a family yet. Sergeant, but it's not my fault; indeed it's not. I was jilted by a rich widow. Abn'kr. So was I jilted, and by a rich widow too. But is that a thing to cry about ? What does a widow amoimt to in war times ? The woods are full of 'em ! {nupuruigbj) So you were jilted by a widow, eh, you infin-nal jelly-lish ! What's her name ? Homer. Adelgitha Barbour. Abner {lels his miiskel slip doitm on his fool) Vanilla beans! Mi/ widow ! Who are you, anyway '? ( putting up /lis slouch hat and scrii- tiiiiziug his face) Homer Cooke! Homer {sadly shal.-iug his head). The darned fool ! That's my name. Abner. Is it possible you don't recognize me ? I'm an old friend of yours. Homer ((w^/t outburst of delight). Why, it's Abner Decker, of Con- necticut ! Abner {slapping his hand over Homi;r's moulh, in a ivhispcr). Sh ! Would you ruin me? {aloud) Yes, sir, I am Abner Decker, of Arkansaw — the 27th Arkansaw, sir; the pride of old Jubal Early's army, and the terror of the Yankees. Damn 'em 1 I hate a Yankee more than a wet shirt ! I could e:it 'em alive, if I was very hungry ! {glancing aii.riousli/ around, aside) I've got to play Arkansaw tine, you know, or 'twould be all up with me. Homer {lugubriously). I viish /had a chance to do it. Abner. And they've got you labelled "Coward." That gets me. Durn my old hat, but I thought you were one of that kind of tire-eaters who could never get enough of lighting. Homer {smiling). That was your mistake. But I remember that you were on the Northern side, one of the On-to-Richmond warriors. Abner {alarmed). Sh ! Don't talk so darned loud. I was — once. Homicr. How did you get South, then ? Abner. Followed the widow. Homer. So did I. Abnicr. Till she wrote me out to Memphis, where I had got, a darned cold-blooded kind of a letter, that the troubles of her country were so near to her heart that she could take no tiiought of mere personal pleas- 38 WON BACK, ures, and that {with a sneer) of course my duties iu the army demanded all my time. HoMKK. Almost the same as what she wrote to me. But how did you get into the army ? Abxek. By a mistake — of mine. To soothe my blijrhted affections, I took to dealing in contraband cotton on a "crooked" permit from a Federal general. I was making money hand over list, wiieu one day I was gobbled up by Forrest. Homer. As an enemy? Abner. No, sir! I pretended I was a "sympathizer," and played it so well that they believed it. They persuaded me to enlist, and I was fool enough to do so, thinking I could easily skip away afterwards. {drilji) That was my mistake. Homf:r {in whisper). Then you've really been lighting against your own side ? Abner. Sh ! Not much. I've blustered and talked tight as much — well, (smiling) as much as you used to talk before the wah; but (iu a ■whisper) Fve always managed to get on detailed service, or in liospital, whenever I "nosed" a light in the air. Homer. .Still, you can't play that all the time, you know. How do you propose to escapa ? • Desert ? Abser (afft'cfi /Iff imlif/nfitioii). Desert! Me! No, sir ! (/ort/b/».7./Wr- iiveii/ around) I may be taken prisoner, (winkiwj) but durn me if FU ever desert ! Homer {winking in turn). I understand, (whispering) Suppose we de — I mean, get captured together ? Abner. That suits me. It's risky work though. It's death if we are caught ! Homer (gulping). And it's death if we remain — death i)y starvation or cold ; so what's the odds, so long as we are i)erfectly hai)py ? Abner (looki)ig qutckl// nmnnd). Sh! (londl//) Here! Move! Move on, you dog-goned coward ! Move on, or I'll make a hole in you ! Enter, l. 1 e., Austin. Austin. What is the matter, Sergeant ? Abner (saluting). Nothing, Major, only I caught this fellow skulking around. Austin. That's right. Keep him moving around the camp, (turns awn I/.) Abner {winking at him). You hear that, you lop-eared scion of a Vuli)ine race ? Move on, quick, quicker, quicker ! (prodding him with, hai/onet.) Homer {■winking knowingly at him, affecting terror). Please don't. Oh! Oh! Austin. Don't kill him, Sergeant. Abner. Not entirely, Major; only a little bit. Now run, run, run I [Homer m^is out, \i. 1 e., followed by Abner with levelled musket. Austin. I hope Kate will be able to visit our camp to-day. It's aw- fully monotonous. I don't mind the lighting, but the waiting is awful. R--enler, r. 1 E., Abner. Where's your skulker ? Abner. I handed him over to the guard, sir; they'll run him around for the next liour. It's all tlie fun we have now. Austin. Yes, it is awfully dull. It won't continue so much longer. WON BACK. 39 General King is not the man to idle away his time when an enemy is in sight. Abner {npprehensive.lji). Do you thinly he will attack, Major ? Austin {laughing^. You had better ask huii that question. Abxer. No, thank you. He's awfully quick-tempered, and might make me an uncivil reply — with his revolver. Peeled potatoes ! but he's a tighter ! Austin. The most desperate in the army. I iuive watched him all through the light of last mouth, when the Yanks under Colonel Ransom- surprised our canjp. AVhy, he tlew over the Held like a tiger. He mu.^t have cut down a dozen men or more before he reached the Yankee colonel. Do you remember the tight, Sergeant ? Abnek {riulping. N — ^Yes; but I wasn't in it. I had the bad luck, confound it, to be on hospital service at the time. Austin. 'Twas glorious ! You have heard much and seen little of hand to-hand lighting in this war. Sergeant. I .syi «Mt that daj'. The two lines were mixed in an inextricable confusion, when General King sighted Colonel Ransome, and made for him. i5oth exhausted their re- volvers, and gave and received wounds as they advanced. At last tliey met. and crossing swords, commenced hacking and stabbing at each otiier. Not a word was spoken on ether side, but you could see from their blazing eyes and clenched teeth tluxt they meant death ! The din was something awful; but the men within sight ceased tt^hting, and seemed to watch, spell-bouml, the struggle of tlie two leaders. Sud- denly Ransome's horse fell, carrying tiie Colonel down witii iiim, and in an instant tlie General's sword was at his heart. "Surrender ! " he cried. " I refuse ! " shouted the Yankee colonel. "Then die ! " exclaimed our general, when, as he drew back his arm to strike the fatal blow, a sjient shot from one of tlie enemy's riflemen struck him on the breast, and he fell senseless over tlie unconscious body of his brave adversary. Abneii. Wliat the deuce. Major, could have induced Colonel Ransome to break the pamle our general so generously gave him, and escape ? Austin {tciili u siiili). I don't know. Tliat is a mystery. 1 only know tliat he stained a very brilliant recoj'd by a very infamous treachery. (looks (iroKud) Here comes the General, (music.) Abner. Excuse me, Major; but I think he's in bad humor, and I'd rather not meet him. (aside, goinff) Things are getting altogether too "glorious" for me. I'll skip away to-night ! \Exit, k. 1 e. Enter, L. 1 E., Harold, in dingy uniform, his left arm m a sling. Austin salutes. Harold [r/iinng. papers). Adjutant, deliver these orders to Major Goldsborough. The intercourse between pickets must be stopped, and at once. Austin. All riglit, sir. How are your wounds progressing. General ? Harold. Favorably, sir. 'Twas a close shave though. Ransome's ball was well aimed, and I think would have readied my heart, had it not been turned aside by Au-STiN. Your pocket Testament, General ? Harold (grnnli/). No, sir, by a pack of cards. You were in Win- chester last night, sir, after the ladies, as usual, I suppose? Austin. I suppose you know, General, I am engaged to Miss Kate Barbour? Haeold. Miss Barbour, eh ? Oh yes, I remember; full of levity and laujrhter. 40 WON BACK. Austin {with heat). But a true daughter of Virginia, for all that, Gen- eriil. I have known her to start at four o'clock in tlie nionuiig, in the depth of winter, on a lonely ride of twenty-seven miles, to give General Lomax warning of an intended surprise; and when I was wounded at Darkesville, she rode ten miles, at night, across the mountains, to fetch nie a surgeon. She had to cross a mountain stream, with the water knee deep; and when she got back to me her clotiies were frozen stiff to her waist, sd that she could scarcely stand. (Itnislinig (iit'iiy a tear) God bless her ! Hakoi.d {grnffiy). Go and deliver those orders, sir. Ai'STix (aside). He has no iieart for love, the superb brute! [Salutes and f.vit, k. 1 e. Harold slai/r/frs ami stfs <»i camp-stool. Hauold. Aye, Go(l bless her, and all the brave women of all the South. They have indeed lieen our sustaining angels But for them the unequal struggle would have ended long ago in disaster and defeat. But the joys of love are not for me. My uncompanioned life, my isolated heart, too plainly and sadly attest that ! If I could only sliake her from my thougiit ! But tiiat seems impossible. Am I never to escape the intluence ol tiiat passion ? I thought iny love only one of youth's broken toys, to be lightly cast aside, or as lightly reiilaced. Instead of that, it proves to be one of tiie needs of my life. And he escaped — Ae, the Ulan who tunu'd my noonday into night ! By Heaven, I would risk eternity for one more chance of meeting him. (music, agitato, pp.) Tie-niter, R. 1 k., quicldij, Austin. Austin (salt'tnig). General, Colonel Kansonie, who escaped a week ago, has been re-captured, within our lines. Ha HOLD ((/■//// avid e.i:clamatio)i of jot/, starting up). Good! Con- duct him here, at once, aiul issue orders to have him shot at daybreak. i''.rit Austin, r. 1 k.) Ha, ha, ha! The gods tight on my side after all ! Ha, ha, ha ! He hoped to induce her to evade her oath, and to marry him at the close of the war, if he escaped its perils. Well, he shall )iot escape, and site shall read in his ignominious death the constancy of my love, the tenacity of my hate, (falls back exhausted into seat.) Enter, r. 1 e., Hugh, in uniforvi, accompanied by Austin, who salutes and e.vils. Hugh is very pale from ipound in his chest. Harold rises, and the two stare Ji.vediy at each otiier. Harold. So we meet again ! Hugh. Had I the choice, it should be upon the battle-field with weapons. H,\.rold. Your weapons availed you little at our last meeting there. Colonel Ransome, one week ago you violated your parole, and escaped. Hugh (coldlt/). I did. Harold. Not content with that dishouor, you have dared to re-enter my camp as a spy. Hugh (slarting). Aspy ! (restraining himself) I spurn the accusation with contemi)t. It is false! Harold. Then what brought you within my picket lines ? Hugh. My sense of honor ! I voluntarily returned to deliver myself into your hands. IIai;old (livth expressinn of contempt). Umph! To what end? High. To keep my word to an enemy. To prove to him that I am neither a coward nor a liar ! WON BACK. 41 HAI40LD. If neither of these, why did you break your word of honor as a soldier ? ilboii. To save the life of a comrade. My friend Captain Austin, also your prisoner, and badly wounded, was dying for want of pro[)er nour- ishment and care. He appealed to me to save his life, as he had once before saved mine. 1 made the eftbrt, and escaped. I swam the river with him, placed him safely in the keeping of our friends, and returned to accept the penalty of the act. Harold. The penalty is death, at sunrise ! Huut palter with words which mean nothing. Harold. 'Twas yom- defection which proved the challenge to my syini)athy. Yonr love for Constance Burwell — the one idol of all my hopes — induced your wife to <')irouri(r/e ray attentions Hli(Jii. Encourage them ! Harold King, you slander a dead woman ! You lie ! Harold. Lie ! {drawing his pistol) Your life shall atone for the insult. {levels at his hear I.) Hugh {foldinr/ his arms, calmly). Fire! }i\Rnhi) (lomeri)!// n-eapon). Bah! The word prisoner protects you. You shall not be dignified by a death at my hands. Enter, l. 1 e., Austin. A felon's doom for you ! To the guard house with him ! Hugh. Not a felon's death. Harold King, but a soldier's, and at the hands of my country's foe I Neitlier the doom itself, nor its means, have any terrors for me. "Whether in the battle's van, or on the scaflbld high, the fittest place for man to die is where he dies for man ! " [Exit HuGFi and Austin, l. 1 e. Harold. Ha, ha, ha ! He bears himself gallantly. So much the better. It reconciles my vengeance with my pride. Enter, r. 1 e., Abner. He salutes. Abner. Two ladies. General, from Winchester, to see you on personal business. 42 WON BACK. Hakold. Ladies— to see me? All right; conduct them here, (hirns aivai/. Abnkr salutes find e.cils, k. 1 e.) No liiKi, no message from her! For all sull'erers by the war she has, in one shai)e or other, mani- fested her sympathy. It was //c/- wealth, and Iwr generous \)ity, which lirst gave form to that noble beneficence, the Sanitary Commission. Night and day, with untiring zeal and boundless charity, she has gone from town to town, from camp to camp, from hospital to hospital, en- courasiug the sick, ministering to the hurt, supporting the needy. Tliousands and thousands of wounded soldiers have experienced the far-reaching touch of her practical benevolence; and few of our South- ern soldiers confined in Northern prisons l)ut have had grateful cause to acknowledge and to bless the personal kindness and Christian bene- factions of Constance Burwell. All this and more has she done tor others ! For me, whose life she has thwarted, whose nature she has perverted, she has neither pity nor remembrance. My scouts report that she is now visiting the hospitals of the enemy's camp beyond there. She is almost within sight of the man whom she encouraged only to bligiit, }et is as silent as the doatli she has made me covet. But she simll speak ! Her lover's execution shall wring from her heart a cry as full of anguish as that which tills my own ! E)il.er, R. 1 E., Abner, folio ired by Mrs. Barbour and Kate. Both ladies are. neatlij dressed in old cloUies of fasJiions of many years ago, and both are very cheery in manner. They cross to Harold and shake hands cordially. Abxer {apart). And she has forgotten ! The heart that has truly loved never forgets. Oh, woman, woman 1 [Salutes and exit, r. 1 E. Mrs. B. Oh ! Did I hurt your wounded arm ? Harold (icincin;/). Not — much. Katr. What a narrow escape you had from death ! I never thought that Hugh Ransome could be .so vindictive. Harold. Oh, that is all right. I am sorry I have but one seat to offer you. Mits. B. We can remain only an instant. I am on business of the highest importance. General," I am pickling some cucumbers, and of course need salt; so 1 sent to the provost-marshal this morning for an order for eight ounces extra, and, would you believe me, General, Major Goldsborouirh refused me. Harold. Ha. ha, ha ! Did he ! Well, salt is very scarce, you know. We have even been forced to use it as currency. However, you shall have the order. Excuse me. {sits at camp-table, xcrites in book, tears oiif I 'at' and r/ires if.) Mrs. B. Thanks {-rhm he sits) I said i/nn would set the matter right, so I got one of the hospital stewards to drive us out Jiere in an ambu- lance. And. bv the way. General, who do you think we heard of yes- terday by the flasr of tnice from Shepherdstown ? Constance Burwell ? Harold {coldly). Indeed I Mrs. B. Yes. Slie's tliere sujierintending the establishment of a hos- pital for the woundi^d. They say she has sjient all her fortune in pro- curuig comforts for the i)risoners on both sides. Harold {cijniadh/). Is it despair or remorse which has impelled her to do that? ' Mrs. B. (nvnvnly). Neither; only good heartedness. She has neither home, husband, children, or lover, you know, upon whom to lavish the WON BACK. 43 natural affections of a woman, and she devotes them therefore to the caii.'^e of charity. Harold {hit}erf//). And so wastes them. Kate {fthocked). Oil, General 1 How can j'ou saj^ that ? I thinly Con- stance Burwell's surrender of lier fortune, her place in Bociet}^ her abundant chances to marry, all to serve the victiuis and the nuirt^TS of war, perfectly noble, and I honor her ten thousand times more than I ever did before ! Mrs. B. Wliat do you think I heard of her. General ? That she took a solemn oath never to marry, and sacrificed the highest and dearest hopes of a woman's heart, in "order that her lover might marry a richer ■woman, whom he loved better. Harold. Who was the lover ? Mrs. B. That is a mystery. Kate (scornfnllij). Well, a nice specimen of a man he must be, who could e.xact such an oath from a good woman ! Human nature is as much disgraced by his existence as it is beautilied and honored by hers. {innoceiitb/) Don't you think so. General ? Hs-ROVD {starts as if from /us musing, brusquelij). Bah! {turning airaf/.) Katk {innoceiitly). Is your wound paining j^ou, General? Harold {Ijrusque.bj). Yes. \^asid.e) The wound in my heart, {turns aiv.iy.) Mrs. B. {aside to Kate). He is in one of his black moods. Let us leave. Kate. You won"t object. General, will you, to our seeing Major Brookes, now we are here ? Harold (ccy until I breathed the same atmosphere with you. Mrs. B. {cur/.seying). Oh, thank you. Tliis is a field day for person;il compliments to me. Abner. Ahem 1 None but the fair deserve the brave ! Mrs. B. Apropos of braves. What became of poor Homer Cooke ? Kate. Met a hero's death in defence of the South, I suppose ? Abnkr. Not a bit of it. Homer Cooke is alive and kicking. At least he was kicking when I last saw him, half an hour ago. Kate. What! In camp ? Abner. No; in a barrel. Kate. Ha, ha, ha ! Not like Diogenes, I hope ? Abner. No. Something like pickled i)oi-k packed for exportation. But I am delayi4ig you, and the General alwaj's expects his orders to be 44 WON BACK. carried out promptly, {placing himself) attention, battalion ! By the riglit flank, right face ! Forward ! March ! Left ! Left ! [Exit, marcliinij, r. 1 e. Rf.-enter Harold, from house. Harold. How the sound of her name affected me ! And Kate Barbour spoiv'e, I suppose, the voice of tiie world in condemning the pledge I)y which Constance hoped to preserve his life. M;/ refusalto accept death at t.lieir bidding is unmanly, but her trilling with the passion she awoke is nothing. Nothing? Where is tlie peace of mind which once I knew? Where my lost youth ? Who shall give them back to me ? Re-eiiler, k. 1 e., Ai5ner. Abner {snlnting). A l;idy, who has made her way into our lines, asks to see you, sir. Harold (/-((de///). No! I have had enough of their chatter for one day at least. Abner. This one seems very much in earnest, sir; says it's life or death. Harold. Perhaps she brings me information. Did she give her name ? Abner. No, sir. But one of the men, who knows her, says she's a nurse from the other side, and that she has always been kind to our boys when prisoners. Harold {inquirinrily). A nurse? Austin. Yes, sir; in the Sanitary Commission. Harold. And kind to our boys, eh? Well, bring her in; she shall be welcome for their sakes. {ext Abner) My brave boys ! How tlirougli all their rags shines the heroism of their blood and training ! Starving, dying, yet lighting to the last. {risi)ig and removing his hat) Comrades, your commander salutes you ! Enter qiiickhj, R. 1 e., Constance, in garb of a nurse. Be seated, madam, (pushing .stool toward her) I am glad of the oppor- ' tunity of thanking you in the name of our Southern soldiers, {she raises her veil) Great Heavens ! Constance Burwell ! Const, {sndii/). Yes, Constance Burwell. I thought 7ierer to see you again, but duty led me here. I feared you would fail to subdue that worst foe that can assail a man— himself, and I am here to assist you against yourself — to win you back from what is false and revengeful, to wliat is true and generous in your nature. Haroi-d. What do you mean ? Speak out; I am a soldier, and prefer l)lain talking. Const. This morning I received a note left for me by Hugh Ransome, telling me that he had violated his parole in the cause of friendship — that he started out intending to deliver himself up to you, and that he felt certain the penalty of death would be enforced against him. Hauoi,d {inten.V'lii angered). Ah, I understand. And you would plead for the forfeited life of this self-condemned traitor ! Const. No ; I would entreat you not to sully your record by sacrificing to an unworthy revenge this noble and heroic enemy. Harot.d. Not another word ! The time has passed when you could swerve me from the line of my duty. You implore in vain. His doom is settled. Nothing shall change my mind ! WON BACK. 45 Const. This is not justice, but revenge! Harold. No; it is justice. By every law of honorable war, of human justice, his life is forfeit to his breach of faith ! Const. By every law of God, every instinct of hunnxnity, he merits praise rather than condemnation. Hauold. You say you love this man ? Co.vsT. Better, as you know, than peace, or comfort, or ease — than all, save honor ! Hakold. And you would save his life ? Const. At any cost consistent with Christian duty ! Hauold. There is but one way in which that may be done. His life is precious to //on ; so is your smile to mt^. Ransom his life with i/our smile. Be my wife ! Const. (a:/hns(). And yo/i demand this of me ! Harold (jinnly). Yes. Upon no other condition shall he be spared. I swear it ! Const, (shndderinr/, monientnril// covering her face with her /tandt, as if to shut out a hideous pro ■oecl.). And — are you willing thus to traf- fic in human liearts — to make of human life a thing of barter and sale ? HAK(i[,n. Yes. I am not to be friglitened by a name. No worse thdt tlian to inalve my love the plaything of your vanitj', my peace the mock of your pride. CoNsi'. {scornful///). And you would accept my hand knowing my ne-di't was liis ? Hakold. I would. I should not despair of ultimately winning your heart. Esteem e.xists even where love is dead; and esteem is the basis of conjugal peace. Const. Tiiis is your decision. Now listen to mine. I refuse. I will not sell my soul to your base revenge. I will not buy his life with my tears ! Harold. Then why came yon here to palter a\^ain with my pride — once more to cajole my heart? I iiave already wasted too much time. {going) I will at once issue orders for his death. CoiVsr. (grax/iing linn), ."^top I You already have my oath never to wed without your consent. That oath I will keep. Is not that enough ? Haijold. No, no ! At the sound of your voice, the love which I had forced back to its source, then burst through all restraints, and once more flooded my heart with its passion ! I will not surrender you again ! That love is the life of my being ! Then love for love— life for life! — the le.x talionis of the world. Yonr love, or Jiis life! Const. And should I— Oh, my God!— (/;6r Cdnstanck). You hear him. He insists upon dying! By Heaven, he sluUl be instantly gratilied ! (r«//.s) Orderly ! (Abner appears) Find Major Brookes; tell him to detail a tiring i)arty, and report for orders. The prisoner is to be shot at once ! Quick 1 Abnek. Yes, sir. (aside) All, death ! That is better. [Exif, /if 1st tit/, R. 1 K. Harold (to Hugh). You see, I am merciful, even to you. I do not permit you to be kept long in suspense. Hugh. I uiulerstand your nature, and read your heart too well to be in any doubt. I am ready. Const. (A> Harold). This murder mtist not be perpetrated. I beseech you, Harold King, blacken not your soul with this cruel crime, Harold. Not one word further! He has sealed his own doom. No earthly power can save him now. {/oti'/ roll, shoitts, cannon, and tnits- ki'trti. St.artittij) Ha! What is that tiring? Hu(JH. Do you not recognize it? 'Tis the voice of the men of the North. It means that life is not alone in yotir keeping — that death is seeking tjon in your own camp ! Austin and Abner 7-ush in, r. 1 e., excitedly. Austin. General, our pickets have been driven in, the rifle pits cap- tured, and the camp attacked! Harold. They must be driven back. Look to the prisoner. Rally, boys, rally ! and drive them Ixxck. {alarms.) [Rtis/tes out, ii. 1 e. Hugh {/ttovinf/). If I were but free now ! Austin {/evt^tlin;y revolrer). But you are not ! Co.vsT. I will answer for lum, sir. {to Hugh) Oh, my friend, why did you reject his mercy ? Why impose upon me the hideous memory \vhich his revenge now threatens ? Hu(iH. Because I have no desire to live and see you the wife of an- other. Because I would rather die tlian surrender again the dear hope of one day making you mine, {atantis.) Aust[n. We are outnumbered ! T must lend a hand, {to Ahner^i Or- derly, keep a sliarp eye on the prisoner here, if lie attemiits to e.-^caiie. kill him. Kate is on the heights; she shall see how I can fi-ht; how I can die, if needs be. " f g^.,;^^ k. i e. Alarms. Mrs. B. and Kate rusli in, l. 1 E., excitedly. Mrs. B. See how splendidly our boys are behaving! Kate. Oh, if we were only men for one hour, mamma — you and I! {dappinr/ her hands) There was a splendid rallv ! Here comes a shell ! Look out, mamma! {both dodr/e.) 48 WON BACK. HoMEU rushes in, r. 1 E., trips up, rises cujain, etc. Homer {apart to Abner). Now is our time. Let's skip. Miw. B. What! Homer! Homer. 1 wisli I was liome again. Adelgitha! (tries to embrace her, she pushes him, he falls, and the barret rolls a short distance by the force of the shovt^.) Ahner. a Lieavy fall in pork ! {alarms. Helping him to rise) Yes, how's the time. Slip otf your overcoat. (HoyiKR emer'jes from barrel) Down with the Yanks ! [Krit, l. 1 e. Homer. Liljeriy or deatli ! On to Washington ! [Rnns out, l. 1 e. Const. The guard has left. Heaven sends you this opportunity of escape. Accept it and fly. Hugh. And leave ?/om as my hostage ! Never! Const. But you will be murdered. Hugh. I anticipated all that when I returned, (alarms.) Mrs. B. (looking off). Heaven ! what commotion is that? Const, {looking off). An important officer is wounded. Kate. He is only wounded. They are leading him this way. Hugh. 'Tis he I 'Tis General King 1 Enter, r. 1 e., Harold, wounded, assisted by Austin. Const, (anxiousli/). Are you badly hurt ? Harolp. Yes. They got me at last! But (s?«;7/?;r/) we drove 'em, eh. Major? Ah \ (pfnig of pain) I have yet time for an act of mercy and justice. Hugh Ransome, you caused me many years of desolation and sorrow; but^— I — pardon — all. Will — you — do as much for me? Hugh. Ye.'^. {offering Jiand) Death cancels all resentments. Hakoi.d. Life has yet one last triumph for me -the conquest of my- self, (to CoN.STANCEi I release you from your oath, Constance, and I parole Colonel Ransome. Here is the inirole. {lyicing pa/ier.) Const. God of tiie living and the dying, be thine the praise ! Harold King, my pity and forgiveness go with you into eternity ! (reneived alarms.) Harold. What is that? Austin (lool.-ing off). A new attack; the other was but a feint ' Harold. Attheni, boys! That's right! We have beaten them be- fore, and will do it again. See, they come ! Save the guns ! You jiromised me yon would never let your guns be taken Good! Steady, npw — steady ! — stead — (tollers as he speaks. At last his sicord, which he had levelled at an imaginary foe, fidls from his grasp, his arm dro}^'; by Iris side, and lie sinks rjenily down, snpported by Austin.) Hugh (inicorering). A brave enemy has gone ! (mnsic, pp.) Const. Gone where there are no enmities — where the heroes of the Blue and the Gray, reconciled by death, shall, by the mercy of God. rest in peace for eveviwove. (/he firing recedes. Cheers. Music, "Dixie," or "The Star-spangled Banner." SLOW CURTAIN. X3X3 -^ATITT'S Ethiopian and Comic Drama. « -Continued. 65. 6(i. 115. 14. 105. 45. B5. 81. ■26. 138. 1.5. 59. 21. 160. 80. 84. Niirlit iu a Strauge Hotel, Ethiopian sketch 2 Noble Savage, Eth. sketch 4 Norah's Good Bye, Irish musical sketch. 2 No Pay No Cure, Eth. sketch 5 Obeying Orders. Eth. sketch 2 100th Night of Hamlet, Eth. sketch 7 Oh, Hush! operatic olio, 3 scenes. 4 One Night iu a Bar-Koom, Eth. sketch 7 One Night iu a Medical College, Eth. sketch 7 One, Two, Three, Eth. sketch 7 Painter's Apprentice, Eth. farce. . 5 Pete and the Peddler, Eth. and Irish sketch 2 Pleasant Companions, Eth. sketch. 5 Polar Bear, Eth. farce 4 Policy Players, Eth. sketch 7 Pompey's Patients, Eth. interlude, 2 scenes 6 Porter's Troubles, sketch C Port Wine vs. .lealousy, sketch. .. 2 Private Boarding, farce 3 Recruiting Otiice. Eth. sketch 5 Rehearsal (The), Irish farce. 2 sc. . 4 Remittance from Home, Ethiopian sketch ... 6 Rigging a Purchase, Eth. sketch.. 3 Rival .\rtists, Eth. sketch 4 Rival Tenants, Eth. sketch 4 Rival Barbers" Shops. Etli. farce.. 6 Sam's Courtship, Eth. farce 2 Sausage Makers. Eth. sketch, 2 sc. 5 Scampiui, pantomime, 2 scenes. . 6 Scenes in Front of a Clothing Store, farce 7 Scenes on the Mississippi, Eth. .sketch. 2 scenes 6 Serenade (Tlie), Eth. sketch, 2 sc. 7 M. F. 5 No. 38. Siamese Twins, Eth. sketch, 2 sc 74. Sleepwalker, Eth. sketch, 2 scenes 3 46. Slippery Day, Eth. sketch 6 69. Squire for a Day, Eth. sketch 5 56. Stage-struck Couple, Eth. interlude 2 72. Strangers, Eth. burlesque 1 13. Streets of New York, sketch, 6 16. Storming the Fort, sketch 5 7. Stupid Seavaut, sketch 2 121. Stocks Up! Stocks Down! Eth. farce 2 154. Sulphur Bath, Eth. farce 3 47. Take It, Don't Take It, Eth. sketch 2 54. Them Papers, Eth. sketch 3 100. Three Chiefs, Eth. sketch, 2 scenes 6 102. Three A. M., sketch, 2 scenes. ... 3 34. Three Strings to one Bow, Eth. sketch 4 122. Ticket Taker, Eth. farce 2 2. Tricks. Eth. sketch 5 104. Two Awfuls, Eth. sketch 5 5. Two Black Roses, Eth. sketch 4 28. Uncle Eph's Dream. Eth. sketch, 2 _ scenes 3 15G. United States Mail. Eth. farce 2 134. Unlimited Cheek. Eth. sketch 4 62. Vinegar Bitters. Eth. sketch 6 32. Wake up, Williani Henry, Eth. sketch 3 39. Wanted, a Nurse, sketch 4 75. Weston, theWalkest. Dutch sketch 7 93. What Shall I Take? Eth. farce 7 29. Who Died First? Eth. sketch 3 97. Who's the Actor? Eth. farce 4 137. Whose Baby is it? Eth. sketch. . . 2 3 1 143. Wonderful Telephone, Eth. sketch 4 99. Wrong Woman in the Bight Place, 1 sketch. 2 scenes 2 85. Young Scamp. Eth. sketch 3 116. Zacharias' Funeral. Eth. farce 6 IVT^^-A Complete Descriptive Catalogue of De 'Witfs Aetingr Plays and De Witt's ll^^^' Ethiopian and Comic Drama, containinB Plot, Costumes, Scenery, Time of Representation, and all other information, mailed free and post-paid on application. Address as on First Page of this Catalogue. An IniisposaMe Bool LIBRARY OF CONGRESS I llllll Hill lllll lllll li lllll lllll 1 lllll il 11 i III! 015 873 126 5 HOW TO MAHil& E AMTEtJE THEATRICALS. Being plain instructions for construction and arrangement of Stage, making Scenery, getting up Costumes, ^^ Making Up" to represent different ages and characters, and how to produce stage Illusions and Effects. Also hints for the management of Amateur Dramatic Clubs, and a list of pieces suitable for Drawing Room Performances. Hand- somely illustrated with Colored Plates. Price, 25 Cents. DE WITT'S SELECTIONS FOIt AMATEl Al PARLOR THEATRICALS. Nos. 1, 2, 3, 4 &^ 5. Being choice selections from tlie very best Dramas, Comedies and Farces. Specially adapted for presentation by Amate-.:rs, and for Parlor and Drawing P^oora Entertainments. Each inimber, 25 Cents. PANTOMIME PLA Y, "HUMPTY DUMPTY." "I The celebrated Pantomime, as originally played for 1,000 nights by tho late Qkorge L. Fox. Arranged by Jolin Denier, Esq. Eight male, tour female characters. Prices 25 Cents^