JP'^BOOK — HOW TO “MAKE-UP.” A practical guide for 1 Illustratiangr Price 60 cents. NO. CCCXLVIII. FRENCH’S STANDARD DRAMA. IDENTITY; OR. No Thoroughfare. BY LOUIS LEQUEL. Dramatized from the Christmas Story of CHARLES DICKENS AND WILKIE COLLINS. Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1867, by Louis Lequel, in the Clerk's Office of the District Coart of the United States, for the Southern District of New York. NEW YORK : SAMUEL FRENCH & SON, r PUBLISHERS, 38 East 14th St.j Union Sqnarei LONDON ; Samuel French. PUBLISHER, 80 STRAND. IMT-A-K IZE-TTIE 3 : BOZ2C. Containing Rouge, Pearl Powder, Whiting, Mongolian, Ruddy Rouge, Violet Powde*. Box and Puff; Chrome, Blue, Burnt Cork. Pencils for the eyelids. Spirit Gum, India Ink, Camel Hair Brushes, Hare’s Foot, Wool, Craped Hair, Cold Cream, Joining Paste, Min- iature Puffs, Sci ss or^ ajtid Looking Glass, packed neatly in Strong Fancy Card-board THE ABOVE ARTICLES TO BE HAD SEPARATELY. FOR PRICES. SEE CATALOGUE. No Plays Exchanged or Sent on Approval. INTERNATIONAL DESCRIPTIVE CATALOGUE OF PLAYS, AND DRAMATIC WORKS, With a Descriptive List of Amateur Plays and Articles. CONTENTS. Page. Amateur Dramas, Comedies, etc. . . . Amateur Operas Articles Needed by Amateurs Beards, Whiskers, Mustaches, etc... Bits of Burlesque Bound sets of Plays Bulwer Lytton’s Plays Burlesque Dramas Burnt Cork Charade Plays Colored Fire and Tableaux Lights... Comic Dramas for Male Char. oniy. Costume Books Cumberland’s Edition Darkey Dramas Dramas for Boys ... Drawing Room Plays Elocu'i *n Reciters and Speakers Ethiopian Dramas Evening’s Entertainment Fairy Plays French’-* Edition French’s English Operas French’s Italian Operas French’s Standard Minor Drama French’s Parlor Comedies Frobisher’s Popular Recitals Guide Books for Amateurs Grand Army Dramas... 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POSTAGE STAMPS TAKEN IN PAYMENT. New York : SAMUEL FLENCH & SON, PUBLISHERS, 38 E, 14th St., Union Square. London : SAMUEL FLENCH, PUBLISHER, 8 9, STLAND. Payment MUST accompany each Order. A Catalogue with above Contents Sent Free, Those who receive extra Catalogues, kindly hand them to Friends. NO. CCCXLVIII. FRENCH’S STANDARD DRAMA. IDENTITY; OR, No Thoroughfare. BY LOUIS LEQU.EL. Dramatized from the Christmas Story of CHARLES DICKENS AND WILKIE COLLINS. Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 13S7, by Louis Lequel, in the Clerk’s Office of the District Court of the United States, for the Southern District of New York. NEW YORK : SAMUEL FRENCH, PUBLISHER, 122 Nassau Street. ORIGINAL CAST — [Identity ; or, No Thoroughfare.] As performed at Mrs, F. B. Conway' s Park Theatre , Brooklyn , Jan. 6, 1868. MARGUERITE, Obenveizer’s Niece e . .MRS. F. B. CONWAY. Obenreizer, a Swiss Merchant Mr. F. B. Conway. Geo. Yendale, of the firm of Wilding & Co. .Mr. Claude Hamilton. Walter Wilding, his Senior Partner Mr. H. Meeker. Mr. Bintrey, a Lawyer Mr. F. Chippendale. Joey Ladle, Wilding & Co.’s Cellarman Mr. Belvil Ryan. Maitre Voigt, a Notary Mr. G. Wren. Jarvis, Clerk to Wilding & Co Mr. Samuels. First Convent Porter Mr. A. Queen. Second Convent Porter Mr. Edves. First Guide Mr. Webster. Second Guide Mr. Shannon. Landlord of the Swiss Inn Mr. S. Parker. Mrs. Goldstraw. Mrs. H. Howard. Madame Dor, Obenreizer’s housekeeper Mrs. Whitman. Act I. — Wilding Co. — The Senior Partner's Story. Act II. — Vendale makes Love and causes mischief. Act III. — The “ Tourmente " on the Alps. THRILLING “ SENSATION SCENE.” THE MURDER IN THE GALLERY. MARGUERITE’S LOVE. Act IV. — Obenreizer makes a discovery. HONOR AND LOVE TO MARGUERITE. Period of the Play 1861-2. The first two acts are laid in England — the last two in Switzerland RELATIVE POSITIONS, EXITS, &C. R., means Right ; L., Left ; R. H., Right Hand ; L. IT., Left Hand;- C., Centre; S. E., (or 2d E.,) Second Entrance; U. E., Upper Entrance; M. D., Middle Door; F., the Flat; D. F., Door in Flat ; R. C., Right of Centre ; L. C. Left of Centre. The reader is supposed to be upon the Stage, facing the audience. Permission to perform this Play can be obtained from the Author’s Agent, Mr. C. T. Parsx^^ §§Q Broadway, to whom Managers are requested to apply. The right of performance, of charge, is accorded to Amateurs. rrwil 1 S’ % { •"V " ' 11 f. i i of “£ IDENTITY; ^ OR, “NO THOROUGHFARE.” c< ACT I. Period, 1861. SCENE — ( Which stands the Act.) Wilding’s Counting-House. Door of Strong Roorh c. Door in flat R. hacked by interior. Window in flat r. backed by street. Fireplace set R. , set door L., table-desk r. c., chairs r. and l. ; on table-desk , decanter of Port and wine glasses, plate full of biscuits. Lady' s portrait over mantel R. Decorations , fyc., style of the early Georges. Wilding (in mourning) and Bintrey discovered drinking wine. Wilding When a man at five-and- twenty can put his hat on, [Suit- ing the action to the word ] and say “ This hat covers the owner of this property and of the business which is transacted on this property in Cripple Corner, through which there is ‘No Thoroughfare,’ ” I con- sider, Mr. Bintrey, that, without being boastful, he may be allowed to be deeply thankful. I don’t know how it may appear to you, but so it appears to me. [Takes hat off. Bintrey Yes, yes. Ha ! ha ! Wild You like this forty-five-year-old port ? Bint Like it ? Rather, sir ! Wild [Filling Bintrey’ s glass.] It’s from the best corner of our best forty-five-ycar-old bin. Bint [Holding up his glass.] Thank you, sir. It’s most excellent. Ha S ha ! Wild [Smiling.] And now, I think w r e have got everything straight, Mr. Bintrey. Bint E very th i n g s trai gh t ? I Wild A partner secured — Bint A partner secured — a housekeeper all but engaged — Wild My late dear mother’s affairs wound up — Bint Wound up — Wild And all charges paid. Bint [Chuckling.] And all charges paid. Ha! ha! Wild [Wiping his eyes with handkerchief .] The mention of my lato dear mother unmans me still. Mr. Bintrey, you know how I loved 4 IDENTITY; OR, her ; you (her lawyer) know how she loved me. The utmost love of mother and child was cherished between ns, and we never ex- perienced one moment’s division or unhappiness, from the time when she took me under her care. Thirteen years under my late dear mother’s care, Mr. Bintrey, and eight of them her confidentially acknowledged son ; you know the story. Bint I know the story. Wild My late dear mother had been deeply deceived, and had cruelly suffered ; but on that subject her lips w r ere forever sealed. By whom deceived, or under what circumstances, heaven only knows. My late dear mother never betrayed her betrayer. Bint She had made up her mind, and she could hold her peace. [. Aside .] A great deal better than you ever will. Wild When I came of age, she bestowed her inherited share in this business upon me ; it was her money that afterwards bought out Pebbleson Nephew, and painted ip Wilding & Co.; it was she who left me everything she possessed, but the mourning ring you wear. And yet, Mr. Bintrey, [ With a burst of affection] she is no more. It is little over half a year since she came into the Cornel to read on the door-post, with her own eyes, Wilding Co., Wine Merchants. And yet she is no more. [Puts handkerchief to his eyes. Bint. [Eyeing his glass of wine.] Sad ! But the common lot, Mr. Wilding. At some time or other we must all be no more. [Drmks nine. Wild [Mastering his tears.] So now that I can no longer show my love and honor for the dear parent to whom my heart was mysteri- ously turned by nature, (when she first spoke to me a strange lady, I sitting at our Sunday dinner- table in the Foundling Hospital), I can at least show that I am not ashamed of having been a Found- ling, and that I, who never knew a father of my own, wish to be a father to all in my employment. Therefore, I want a thoroughly good housekeeper to undertake this dwelling-house of Wilding & Co., Wine Merchants, Cripple Comer, so that I may restore in it some of the old relations betwixt employer and employed. So that the people in my employment may lodge under the same roof with me. So that we may, one and all — I beg your pardon, Mr. Bintrey, but that old singing in my head has come on — I — I — [Leans back in his chair , his hand to his head. Bint [Rising.] Don’t let your good feelings excite you. Wild [Recovering.] No, no! I won’t, I won’t ! I have not been confused, have I ? Bint Not at all. Perfectly clear. Wild Where did I leave off, Mr. Bintrey ? Bint [Sitting.] Well, you left off — but I wouldn’t excite myself, if I was you, by taking it up just yet. Wild I’ll take care. I’ll take care. The singing in my head came on at where, Mr. Bintrey ? Bint Lodging under the same roof, and one and all — Do you know, I really would not let my good feelings excite me, if I was you. Wild Having lost my dear mother, I find that I am more fit for NO THOROUGHFARE. n being one of a body than one by myself. To be that, and at the same time to do my duty to those dependent on me, and attach them to me, has a patriarchal and pleasant air about it. I don't know how it may appear to you, Mr. Bin trey, but so it appears to me. Bint [Rising and cordially.'] How i t appears to me, my dear sir, is of very small importance. As for your wish, all good be with it. But I must leave you now ; good-bye for the present, sir, I will look in upon you again to-day on my way home. Wild [Shaking hands.] Do so, Mr. Bintrey. [Sits at desk , Bintrey exits door l., knock door in flat.] Come in ! Enter Joey Ladle, dressed as a Vintner s porter , or cellar man, bibbed apron, adze in belt, candle in cleft stick in his hands. Joey [Putting candle down.] Respecting this came boarding and lodg- ing, Young Master Wilding. Wild Yes, Joey ? Joey Speaking for myself, Young Master Wilding, — and I never did speak and I never do speak for no one else — I don't want no boarding nor yet no lodging. But if you wish to board me and to lodge me, take me. I can peck as well as most men. Where I peck, ain’t so high a object with me as what I peck. Nor even so high a object with me as how much I peck. Is all to live in the house, Young Master Wilding ? The two other cellarmen, the three por- ters, the two ’prentices, and the odd men ! Wild Yes, I hope we shall all be an united family, Joey. Joey Ah, I hope they may be. Wild They ! Rather say we, Joey. Joey [Shaking his head.] Don’t look to me to make we on it, Young Master Wilding, not at my time of life and under the circumstances ■which has formed my disposition. I have said to Pebbleson Nephew l many a time, when they have said to me, “Put a livelier face upon it, Joey,” — I have said to them, “ gentlemen, it is all very well for you, that has been accustomed to take your wine into your systems by the convivial channel of your throats, to put a lively face upon it ; but” I says, “I have been accustomed to take my wine in at the pores of the skin, and, took that way, it acts different. It acts de- pressing. I’ve been a cellarman my life through, with my mind fully given to the business. What’s the consequences ? I’m as mud- dled a man as lives — you won’t find a muddleder man than me —nor yet you won’t find my equal in mollonchollv — Sing of filling the bumper fair, every drop you sprinkle o’er the brow of care smothers away a wrinkle ! Yes, p’raps so. But try filling yourself through the pores, underground, when you don’t want to do it.” Wild I am sorry to hear this, Joey. I had even thought that you might join a singing-class in the house. Joey Me, sir? No, no, Young Master Wilding, you won’t catch Joey Ladle muddling the ’armony. A pecking-machine, sir, is all that I am capable of proving myself, out of my cellars ; but that > ou* re welcome to, if you think it’s worth your while to keep such a tiling on your premises. G IDENTITY ; OR, Wild I do, Joey. Joey Say no more, sir, the business’s word is my law. And so you’ve took Young Master George Vendale partner into the old business ? Wild I have, Joey. Joey More changes, you see ! But don’t change the name of the firm again. Don’ t do it, Young Master Wilding. It was bad luck enough to make it Yourself & Co. Better by far have left it Pebble- son Nephew, that good luck a'. ways stuck to. You should never change luck when it’s good, sir. Wild At all events, I have no intention of changing the name of the House again, Joey. Joey Glad to hear it, and wish you good day, Young Master Wild- ing. But you had better by half [Ilalf -aside as he crosses to door in flat , shaking his head] have let the name alone from the first. You had better by half have followed the luck instead of crossing it. [Exits door in flat. Wild I’ve been crossing the luck, eh ? who knows, perhaps I have. Joey thinks I should have followed it — perhaps he is right in that too. Time will tell. Enter Jarvis, door l. Jarvis A lady to see you, sir ! Wild Show her in, Jarvis. [Jarvis goes to door l, Mrs. Goldstraw enters in mourning , Jarvis exits door l, Wilding rises and meets her. Wild The lady who answered my advertisement for a housekeep- er, and who is here by my appointment, I believe. Mrs. Goldstraw The same, sir. Wild [Returning to his seat at desk.] What name shall I have the pleasure of noting down ? Mrs G My name is Sarah Goldstraw, Mrs. Goldstraw. My hus^ band has been dead many years, and we had no family. Wild You will excuse my asking you a few questions ? Mrs G 0, surely, sir, or I should have no business here. Wild Have you filled the station of housekeeper before ? Mrs G Only once. I have lived with the same widow lady for twelve years. Ever since I lost my husband. She was an invalid, and is lately dead, which is the occasion of my now wearing black. Wild I do not doubt that she has left you the best credentials ? Mr& G I hope I may say, the very best. I thought it would save trouble, sir, if 1 brought them with me— they are here ! [Producing a packet of letters. Wild [Half rising and taking them.] You singularly remind me, Mrs. Goldstraw, of a manner and tone of voice that I was once acquaint- ed with. Not of an individual — I feel sure of that, though I cannot recall what it is I have in my mind — but of a general bearing. I ought to add, it was a kind and pleasant one. Mrs G [Smiling.] At least I am very glad of that, sir. NO THOROUGHFARE. 7 Wild [ Thoughtfully .] Yes, it was a kind and pleasgRit one. But that is the most I can make of it. Memory is sometimes like a half- forgotten dream. I don’t know how it may appear to you, Mrs. Goldstraw, but so it appears to me. Sit down, whilst I glance, for form’s sake, at these letters. Mrs G Thank you, sir. [Sits — A pause. Wild [Having glanced through the letters.] Everything that could be desired, Mrs. Goldstraw, and we may as well call the matter “ set- tled,” upon the terms named yesterday — now as for your duties — what’s the matter ? [Mrs. Goldstraw has been looking round the room, whilst Wilding has been reading ; she has started at sight of the picture over fire-place and remains looking at it. Mrs G My — my — my duties— yes, sir — you were saying — Wild— I was saying — dear, dear me, Mrs. Goldstraw ! what is the manner and tone of voice that you remind me of? It strikes me more and more strongly. What can it be ? Mrs G [Still looking at the picture.] What can it be ? Wild [Following her look.] My late dear mother’s portrait, when she was five-and-twenty. Excuse my asking 3^011 a question which has nothing to do with your duties. May I inquire if you have ever occupied any other situation than that of housekeeper ? Mrs G Oh, yes, sir. I began life as one of the nurses at the Foundling Hospital. Wild [Pushing back his chair.] Why, that’s it, by heaven ! Their manner is the manner you remind me of. [A pause.] What is the matter ? Mrs G [Sinking into chair , quietly.] Do I understand that you were in the Foundling, sir ? Wild. Certainly. I am not ashamed to own it. Mrs G Uuder the name you now bear ? Wild Under the name of “ Walter Wilding.” Mrs G And the lady — Wild You mean my mother ? Mrs G Your — mother — [Constrainedly] removed you from the Found- ling Hospital ? At what age, sir ? Wild At between eleven and twelve years old. It’s quite a ro- mantic adventure, Mrs. Goldstraw. My poor mother could never have discovered me, if she had not met with one of the matrons who pitied her. The matron consented to touch the boy whose name was ** Walter Wilding ” as she went round the dinner tables, — and so my mother discovered me again, after having parted from me as an infant at the Foundling doors. [Mrs. Goldstraw’s head drops on her hands on the table.] What does this mean ? Stop ! Is there something else in the past time which I ought to associate with you ? I remember my mother telling me of another person at the Foundling, to whose kindness she owed a debt of gratitude. When she first parted with me, as an infant, one of the nurses informed her of the name that had been given to me in that institution ? You were that nurse ! 8 IDENTITY ; OR, Mrs G God forgive me, sir — I was that nurse. Wild God forgive you ? What do you mean ? Mrs G Nothing, sir— nothing ! Wild Mrs. Goldstraw, you are concealing something from me. Mrs G You were about to inform me, sir, that my duties — Wild I can’t enter into my household affairs, Mrs. Goldstraw, till I know why you regret an act of kindness to my mother, which she always spoke of gratefully to the end of her life. You are not doing me a service by your silence. You are agitating me — you are alarming* me — you are bringing on a singing in my head. Mrs. G It’s hard, sir, on just entering your service, to say what may cost me the loss of your good will. Please to remember, end how it may, that I only speak because you insist. This, then, is my story : When I told the poor lady there, the name by which her infant was christened, I forgot my duty, and dreadful conse- quences, I am afraid, have followed from it. I’ll tell you the truth, as plainly as I can. A few months from the time when I had in- formed the lady of her baby’s name, there came to our Institution another lady, whose object was to adopt one of our children. After looking at a great many of them, without being able to make up her mind, she took a sudden fancy to one of the babies — a boy — under my care. Try, pray try to compose yourself, sir! It’s no use disguising it any longer. The child the stranger took away was the child of that lady whose portrait hangs there ! Wild [Starting to his feet vehemently.'] What are you talking about? What absurd story are you telling me now ? There’s her portrait ! Haven’t I told you so already ? The portrait of my mother ! Mrs G [Gently.] When that unhappy lady removed you from the Foundling Hospital, in after years, she w r as the victim, and you were the victim of a dreadful mistake. Wild [Patting his hand to his head and speaking with pain ] Mistake ? How do I know you are not mistaken yourself ? Mrs G There is no hope that I am mistaken, sir. I will tell you why, when you are better fit to hear it. Wild [Nervously and quickly.] Now, now ! Mrs G I have told you that the child of that lady [Pointing to portrait] was adopted in infancy, and taken away by a stranger. I am as certain of what I say as that I am here. Please to carry your mind on, to about three months after that time. I was still at the Foundling. There was one day a question about naming an infant — a boy — who had just been received. We generally named them out of the Directory. On this occasion, the Manager, looking over the 'Register, noticed that the name of a baby who had been adopted (Walter Wilding) was scratched out ; the child having been removed from our care. “ Plere’s a name to let,” he said. “ Give it to the new foundling who has been received to-day.” The name was given and the child was christened. You, sir, were that child. Wild [As in a reverie.] I was that child ? I was that child ? Mrs G Not Jong after you had been received into the Institution, I left mv situation, to be married. Between eleven and twelve years passed before the lady, whom you believe to be your mother, rc # NO THOROUGH FAKE. 0 turned to the Foundling, to find her son, and to remove him to her home. She only knew it had been called “ Walter Wilding.” The matron, taking pity on her, could but point out the only “ Walter Wilding” known in the place. I, who might have set the matter right, was far away. There was nothing — there was really nothing — that could have prevented this terrible mistake from taking place. I feel for you — I do indeed, sir! you must think — and with reason — th it it was in an evil hour, that I came here to apply for your housekeeper’s place. I feel as if I was to blame. If I had only been able to keep command of my face, you need never, te> your dying day, have known what you now know. Wild [Somewhat indignantly .] Do you mean to say that you would have concealed this from me if you could? Mrs G I hope I should always tell the truth, sir, if I was asked, and I know it is better for ms that I should not have a secret of this sort weighing on my mind. But is it better for you ? What use can it cm it serve now — ? Wild What use ? If your story is true — Mrs G Should I have told it, sir, as I am situated, if it had not been true ? Will I beg your pardon. You must make allowance for me. This dreadful discovery is something I can’t realize even yet. Don’t talk of concealing it. It would have been a crime to have hidden it. You mean well, I know. I don’t wan’t to distress you — you are a kind-hearted woman, but you don’t know what my position is. She left me all that I possess, in the firm persuasion that I was her son. Iam not her son. I have taken the place — I have innocently got the inheritance of another man. He must be found ! How do I know he is not at this moment in misery, without bread to eat? He must be found! You must know more, Mrs. Goldstraw, than you have told me yet. Who was the stranger who adopted the child ? You must have heard the lady’s name? Mrs G I never heard it, sir. I have never seen her, or heard of her since. Wild Did she say nothing when she took the child away ? Search your memory. She must have said something. Mrs G Only one thing, sir, that I can remember. It was a miser- ably bad season that year : and many of the children were suffering from it. When she took the baby away, the lady said to me, laugh- ingly, “ Don’t be alarmed about his health. He will be brought up in a better climate than this, — I am gcing to take him to Switzer- land.” Wild To Switzerland ? What part of Switzerland ? Mrs G She didn’t say, sir. Wild Only that faint clue ! and a quarter of a century has passed since the child was t^ken away ! What am I to do? What am I to d° ? [His head sinks on table. Mrs G If I was in your place, sir, I should comfort myself with remembering that I had loved that poor lady — truly loved her as my mother, and that she had truly loved me as her son. All she gavo 10 IDENTITY ; OR, to you, she gave for the sake of that love. It never altered while she lived, and it won’t alter, I’m sure, as long as you live. How can you have a better right, sir, to keep what you have got than that ? Wild [. Raising his head,] You don’t understand me. It’s because I loved her that I feel it a duty — a sacred duty — to do justice to her son. If he is a living man, I must find him. I shall break down under this dreadful trial, unless I employ myself — actively, instant- ly — in doing what my conscience tells me ought to be done. I must speak to my lawyer ; I must set my lawyer to work before I sleep to-night. Leave me for a little, Mrs. Goldstraw, I shall be more composed and better able to speak to you later in the day. I hope we shall get on well together — in spite of what has happened. It isn’t your fault ; I know it isn’t your fault. There! There! Shake hands ; and — and do the best you can in the house — I'can’t talk about it now. — Do me one other service. I am about to send for my lawyer, Mr. Bin trey— tell him the whole story — I am not equal to the task, and he must know all for the purpose I have in view ! Now leave me. [Mrs. Goldstraw exits door in fiat as Jarvis enters with a letter. Wild [To Jarvis] Send for Mr. Bintrey, say I want to see him di- rectly. When he arrives show him to the housekeeper’s room, and tell Mrs Goldstraw, the lady who has just left the room. Jarvis Yes, sir. Mr. Yendale, sir, to see you. Vendale enters door in flat. Wild [Anxiously and quickly .] Pray excuse me for one moment, George — I have a word to say to Jarvis. Send for Mr. Bintrey, at once, and remember to take him first to Mrs. Goldstraw’ s room. Jarvis [ Laying letter on desk.] From our correspondents at Neucha- tel, I think, sir. The letter has the Swiss postmark. [Exits door in flat. Wild [Starting.] From Switzerland? Vendale Wilding, what is the matter ? Wild My good George, so much is the matter, that I shall never be myself again. It is impossible that I can ever be myself again. For, in fact, I am not myself. Ven Not yourself ? Wild Not what I supposed myself to be. Ven Come, come, whatever has gone wrong, has gone wrong through no fault of yours, I am very sure. 1 was not in the count- ing-house with you under the old regime , for three years, to doubt you, Wilding. Let me begin our partnership by being a serviceable partner, and setting right whatever is wrong. Has that letter any- thing to do.with.it ? Wild [Holding his hand to his head.] Hah ! my head ! I was forget- ting the coincidence. The Swiss postmark. # Ven [Taking up the letter.] Is it for you, or for us ? Wild For us ! Ven Suppose I open it and read it aloud, to get it out of the way. Wild Thank you, thank you. NO THOROUGHFARE. 11 Veil [Reading.'] “Dear Sir . — We are in receipt of yours, informing us that you have taken Mr. Vendale into partnership. Permit us to specially commend to you M. Jules Obenreizer. Impossible ! Wild Eh ? Ven Impossible sort of name — “ Obenreizer.” [Reading.] “ To specially commend to you M. Jules Obenreizer, of London , fully accredited as our Agent , and who has already made the acquaintance of Mr. Vendale in his, Mr. Obenreizer’ s native country, Switzerland , — ” to be sure ; pooh, pooh ; what have I been thinking # of ! I remember now — when » traveling with his niece. [Starts and pauses.] When traveling with his niece. Obenreizer’ s neice — neice of Obenreizer. 1 met them in my first Swiss tour, traveled a little with them, and lost them for two years ; met them again, and have lost them ever since. Oben- reizer. Neice of Obenreizer. To be sure ! Possible sort of name after all. [Reads.] “ M. Obenreizer is in possession of our absolute con- fidence, and we do not doubt you will esteem his merits. — Defrcisner s, confused. — Vendale snatches her to his arms and kisses her. — Faintly.] Let me go, Mr. Yendale ! Ven Call me George. Mar [Laying her head on his shoulder , and in a whisper.] George ! Ven Say you love me. NO THOROUGHFARE. 17 Mar [Puis her arms gently round his neck , and timidly touches his cheek with her lips. ] I Jove you ! [A knock heard . — Marguerite starts from him and rises from the sofa. Mar. Let me go ! He lias come back. [As she goes out at door l, she touches Madame Doe, who wakes with a loud snort , looks first over one shoulder and then over the other , peers down into her lap and cannot find ivorsted, stockings or needles. Madame Don trembles violently. Vend ale picks up the stockings and the ball , and hud- dles them all in a heap over her shoulder. Enter Obenreizer, door in flat , looks sharply round. Oben What! my niece away? My niece is not hereto entertain you in my absence ? This is unpardonable. 1 shall bring her back instantly. fen Do not disturb her, I beg. You have returned sooner than you expected. Oben A friend remains and consoles our afflicted compatriot. A heart-rending scene, Mr. Vendale. The household gods at the pawn- broker’s — the family immersed in tears — we all embraced in silence. Ven Can I say a word to you in private, Mr. Obenreizer ? Oben Assuredly. [Turns to Madame Dor ] My good creature, you are sinking from want of repose. Mr. Vendale will excuse you. [Madame Dor rises and starts for door l, drops a slocking , Vendale picks it up and opens the door — She makers a few steps , drops three more stockings , Vendale stoops and picks them up. Oben Dear sir, you condescend too much. Be more careful, Mad- ame Dor. [Madame Dor drops all the stockings and shuffles off l door. Obenreizer sweeps up all the stockings and pitches them after her. Oben What must you think, Mr. Vendale, [Closing the door ] of this deplorable intrusion of domestic details. For myself, I blush at it. We are beginning the New Year as badly as possible ; everything has gone wrong to-day. Be seated, pray, — and say, what may I offer you ? Shall we pay our best respects to one of your noble English institutions? It is my study to be, what you call jolly. I propose a grog. [They sit. Ven Many thanks, none for me ! I wish to speak to you on a subject in which I am deeply interested. You must have observed, Mr. Obenreizer, that I have, from the first, felt no ordinary admira- tion for your charming niece ? Oben You are very good. In my niece’s name I thank you. Ven Perhaps you may have noticed, latterly, that my admiration for Miss Obenreizer has grown into a tenderer and deeper feeling — Oben Shall we say friendship, Mr. Vendale ? Ven Say love — and we shall be nearer to the truth. [Obenreizer starts from his chair with an angry motion which lie checks , and resumes his seat. Ven You are Miss Obenreizer’s guardian. I ask you to confer upon me the greatest of all favors,— I ask you to give me her hand 18 IDENTITY ; OB, Oben Mr. Vendalc, you petrify me. Ven I will wait until you have recovered yourself. Oben One word before I recover myself. You have said nothing abmt this to my niece? Ven I have opened my whole heart to your niece. And I have reason to hope — Oben [Striking the table with his fist.] What ! You have made a pro- posal to my niece, without first asking for my authority to pay your addresses to her ? [Indignantly .] Sir ! as a man of honor, speaking to a man of honor, how can you justify it? Ven [Quietly ] I can only justify it as one of our English institu- , tions. You admire our English institutions. I assure you that I have not acted with any intentional disrespect towards yourself. May I ask you to tell me plainly what objection you see to favoring my suit ? Oben I see this immense objection. My niece is the daughter of a poor peasant, and you are the son of a gentleman. You do us an honor [Politely] which deserves our most grateful acknowledgments. But the inequality is too glaring ; the sacrifice too great. You English are a proud people, Mr. Vendale. I have observed enough of this country to see that such a marriage as you propose would be a scandal here. Not a hand would be held out to your peasant wife, and all your best friends would desert you. Ven I may claim without any great arrogance, to know more of my country-people in general, and of my own friends in particular, than you. My wife would be the one sufficient justification of my marriage. If I did not feel certain — observe, I say certain — that I am offering her a position which she can accept, without so much as the shadow of humiliation, I would never (cost me what it might) have asked her to be my wife. Is there any other obstacle that you see? Hive you any personal objection to me? Oben [Stretching out his hands.] Personal objection. Dear sir, the bare question is painful to me. Ven As for my means, the yearly value of my life interest and my business receipts, make a total which reaches a present annual income of fifteen hundred pounds. I have the finest prospect of soon making it more. Do you object to me on pecuniary grounds ? Oben [After a pause.] Before I answer that last question, I beg leave to revert for a moment to Miss Marguerite. You said some- thing just now which seemed to imply that she returns the senti- ment with which you are pleased to regard her ? Ven I have the inestimable happiness of knowing that she loves me. Oben [After a pause ] Indeed, I cannot give you an answer now. I must first see my niece. In half an hour I will call upon you at your office and we will renew the subject of our conversation. Will this suit you, dear sir ? Ven Certainly — I will await you anxiously ; till then adieu ! [Exits door in flat. Oben [Looking aj\r him.] So you thought you had but to open your NO THOROUGHFARE. 19 mouth, Mr. Vendalc, declare your wishes, and have it all your own way. We shall see ! we shall see ! Now for Marguerite. [As he goes to door l. the scene closes in. SCENE II. — (1 slgvooves.) — The cellars under Wilding & Co.’s Ware- house. Two pairs of flats run on. The front ones , double arches ; the bach ones voith casks , bins, and tiers of hogsheads painted on them The walls and roof are covered with long moss-like fungus. At back of arch n, a set-piece run on ; behind which are set steps, as if from above — not used till after the scene has opened. [Joey enters from back at l, with lighted candle in deft- stick — a book under his arm , a bottle of wine in his hand ; on his arm apiece of crape. Joey I do believe as I am a gettin’ muddleder and muddleder every day. I can’t make anything out of that there error of Defreis- ner & Co.’s shipment. Such a thing never happened afore when the firm of Pebbleson Nephew was over the door. That’s what I told young Master Wilding, him as was full of good intentions, that he was— “ Don’t cross the luck,” says I, “ but go along with it.” But there’s an end to him and all his plans — the ’armony along with the rest-; and after I had heard that there Miss Marguerite sing, I says, “ Arter that you may all on ye get to bed,” and so they might for all the matter of their cornin’ anigh her in singing — that they might — but — hallo ! who’s that coming down the cellar steps? Vend ale appears at the top of the steps n, with candle in cleft-stick — lie descends Ven Oh ! you are here, arc you, Joey ? Joey Oughtn’t it rather to go, “ Oh, you’re here, are you,” Master George ? for it’s my business to be here, but it ain’t your’n. Ven Don’t grumble, Joey. Joey Oh! I don’t grumble. If anything grumbles, it’s what I’ve took in through the pores ; it ain’t me. Have a care as something in you don’t begin a grumbling, Master George. Stop here long enough for the wapors to work, and they’ll be at it. You’re too young, Master George. Ven We shall get over that objection day by day. Joey The luck’s changed, Master George, I know it. I ain’t been down here all my life for nothing ! I know by what I notices down here, when it’s a-going to rain, when it’s a-going to hold up, when it’s a-going to blow, when it’s a-going to be calm. I know, by what I notices down here, when the luck’s changed, quite as well. Ven [Holding his candle towards a hanging bunch of fungus. J Has this growth on the roof anything to do with your divination ?. Wc are famous for this growth in this vault, aren’t we ? Joey [Moving aside, j We are, Master George, and if you’ll be advised by me, you’ll let it alone. Ven Ay, indeed ! why so ? Joey Why not so much because it rises from the casks of wine, and may leave you to judge what sort of stuff a cellarman takes into himself all the days of his life, when he walks in these here cellars, nor yet so much because at a stage of its growth it’s maggots and 20 IDENTITY ; OR, you’ll fetch ’em down upon you, ns for another reason, Master George — Ven [ Toying with the fungus.'] What’s the reason ? Joey I would’ nt keep on touching it, if I was you, sir. I’ll tell you if you’ll come away from it — take a look at its color, Master George. Joey I am doing so ! well, Joey ! the color ? Joey Is it like clotted blood, Master George ? Ven Like enough, perhaps. Joey More than enough, I think. Vei Well, say it is like ; say it is exactly like. What then ? Joey Master George, they do say-^ Ven Who ? Joey How should I know who ? Them ! Them as says pretty well everything, you know. How should I know who they are, if you don’t ? Ven True— go on ! Joey They do say that the man that gets by any accident a piece of that dark growth upon his breast, will for sure and certain, die by Murder ! [Joey suddenly starts excitedly , drops the bottle , strikes Vend ale’s breast and beats off a piece of fungus.] There was a piece on your’n — there was, I tell you! Ven [After a pause, laughs lightly.] You foolish fellow, I declare you have almost frightened me with your stupid superstitions. Joey [Sulkily.] Superstition, eh ? Well, call it so if you likes— I only tell you what they says and if there ain’t nothing in it, it ain't my fault. I never set myself up for a prophet. Ven Who ever said you did ? Joey No prophet, as far as I’ve heard tell of that profession, ever lived principally underground. No prophet, whatever else he might take in at the pores, ever took in wine from morning to night for a number of years together [Taking his book from under his arm and open - ing it.] It’s foreign to my nature to crow over the house I serve, but I feel it a kind of a solemn duty to ask you to read that. Ven [Glancing at book ] Ah, the error in the Champagne consign- ment. I know all about it. It lias given me a good deal of anxiety already. I have written about it twice and expect another letter to-day. Are the afternoon’s letters delivered ? Joey Not yet, Master George, they’ll be here in about half an hour. Mr. Bintrey’s in your private office a-waiting to see you. Ven Well then I’ll go and meet him. But, [Smiling and holding up his finger] remember, Joey, when I come down here again, don’t let me hear any more about what foolish people say, about still more foolish superstitions. [Exits r. up steps. Joey Well, Master George, I’m glad to see you take it easy. I’m muddled and molloncholly, I grant you, but I’m an old servant of Pebbleson Nephew, and I wish you well through all on your troubles, and that there mistake in the champagne, as well. There weren’t no mistakes in the time of Pebbleson Nephew, that ever I heard on. Sometimes one mistake leads to another, a man drops a bit of NO THOROUGHFARE. 21 orange peel on the pavement by mistake, and a job at the hospital, and a party crippled for life. I wish you well out of it, Master George, and' I’m glad you take it easy, sir. [Exits grumbling , at bach l. SCENE III. —Vend ale’s Counting Room. Same Scene as in Act I. Yen- dale and Bintrey discovered sitting at table. Bint [ Referring to a note booh.] My report is soon made. In accord- ance with the late Mr. Wilding’s wish, expressed so earnestly, we have left no means untried, to discover the true heir to the property. We have kept' an advertisement, at intervals, flowing through the newspapers, cautiously inviting any person who may know anything about that adopted infant, taken from the Foundling Hospital, to come to my office. No one has appeared. Ven And your inquires at the Hospital ? Bini The Treasurer gave me eveiy aid in his power. We con- sulted the books together, and I have here a copy of the entry ! [Reads ] 3rd March, 1836. Adopted and removed from the Foundling Hospital, a male infant, named, Walter Wilding. Name of the person adopting the child, Mrs. Jane Ann Miller, Widow ; Address, Lime Tree Lodgo, Groombridge Wells. References, the Revd. Jno. Harker, Groombrdge Wells, and Messrs Giles, Jeremie and Giles, Bankers, Lombard Street. Ven What did you do, after obtaining this? Bint I called upon Giles, Jeremie and Giles, the Bankers in the City. After some trouble, they opened the ledger account of Mrs. Miller : two long lines, in faded ink, were drawn across it and at the bottom of the page, there was this note: [Reads.] “Account closed, September 30th, 1837. ” No Thoroughfare, in that direction. Ven Well, what did you do then ? Bint I then proceeded to Mrs. Miller’s residence, Groombridge Wells — and, after many inquiries, found the Revd. Mr. Harker’s residence changed to a hotel. Mrs. Miller was dead. Ven And Mr. Harker ? Bint The reverend gentleman had furnished a savory meal to a party of hungry aborigines of New Zealand. No Thoroughfare that way, either ! Ven Defeated in every direction ! Bint Precisely ! defeated in every direction ! Ven Well, Mr. Bintrey, I have to thank you for your zeal, both on my account and on that of my poor dead friend. Have you any other suggestion to offer ? Bint [Rising, putting up note-booh and talcing his hat.] None, my dear Mr. Yendale — not one — I am completely baffled — I must say that to this perplexing business, there is No Thoroughfare — I wish you good day. Ven Good day and thanks ! [Bintrey exits door l. Ven I cannot fathom this mystery; the thought that has some- times crossed my mind, often returns , that Obenreizer may be the man we are seeking. His doubts as to his orgin. The very doubt 22 IDENTITY ; OR, he entertains of his nationality. Of the same age as poor Wilding.^ Brought up in Switzerland. The arrival of the letter, introducing him to us, simultaneously with Mrs. jG-oldstraw’s story. These are chances worth considering. The revival of our acquaintance. All are strange links which should form a chain of facts, and yet they fail, I know not where — 1 can make nothing of them. [Knock at door in flat.] Come in! Enter Jahvis, with a bundle of letters. Jarvis The afternoon’s letters, sir. Yen [Thank you ! [Takes letters , Jarvis exits door in flat.] The Neu- chatel post-mark. More trouble. [Opens and reads.] Your discovery that the forged receipt for five hundred pounds is executed upon one of our numbered and printed forms, has caused inexpressible distress to us. When your remittance was stolen, there were but three keys opening the strong box in which our receipt forms are kept. My partner had one, I another. The third was in the pos- session of a gentleman who, at that period, held a position of trust in our house. We should as soon have thought of suspecting one of ourselves, as of suspecting him ; nevertheless, suspicion now points at him. The handwriting on your receipt must be compared by competent persous, with certain specimens in our possession. I beg you to send me the receipt to Neuchatel ; and in making this request, I must accompany it by a word of necessary warning. If the person at whom suspicion points really prove to be the one who has committed this forgery and theft, I have reason to fear that he is already on his guard. The only evidence against him is in your hands, and he will move heaven and earth to obtain and destroy it. I strongly urge you not to trust the receipt to the post. Send it to me without loss of time, by a private hand, and choose nobody for your messenger but a person long established in your employment, accustomed to traveling, capable of speaking French ; a man of ^courage, honesty, and, above all things, a man who can be trusted to let no stranger scrape acquaintance with him on the route. The safe transit of the receipt may depend on your interpreting literally this advice. Roliand, signing for Dufreisner & Co.” — A man of courage and honesty, accustomed to travel, and speaking French ? I must go myself. Who can this man be that Dufreisner & Co. have been so much deceived in ? Can it no — no— impossible ! It will be too provoking to have to leave Marguerite ; but I see no way out of it. I must go. [Looks at letter again.] There is no help but to go myself. [Grosses to flat, opens door of strong room , pidls out drawer and places letter in it. As he turns he sees Oeenreizer, who has entered door l. Ven Take a seat, Mr. Obenreizer. I have to thank you for your punctuality. Oben [Sitting.] Don’t speak of it, dear sir. Yen [After a constrained pause.] Well, sir ? Oben I have spoken to my niece. I find, Mr. Yendale, that even your influence has not entirely blinded her to the social objections to your proposal. NO THOROUGHFARE. Ven May I ask if that is the only result of your interview with Marguerite ? Oben You are master of the situation. X admit it — your influence over my niece is now greater than mine. I admit that! Ven Well, sir, proceed. Oben I submit with my best grace, on certain conditions. Let us revert to the statement of your pecuniary position. I have an ob- jection to you, my dear sir ; a most audacious objection from a man in my position to a gentleman in yours. Ven What is it? Oben You have honored me by a proposal for my niece’s hand. For the present, with best thanks and respects, 1 beg to decline it. Ven Why ? Oben Because you are not rich enough. Ven Not rich enough ! Oben In my miserable country I should fall on my knees, and say “What a princely fortune !” In wealthy England, I sit as I am, and say, a modest independence, dear sir, nothing more. Ven Come to the point, you view this question as a question of terms. What are your terms ? Oben To raise your wife to social position I deem necessary for her to attain, you must double your present income. On the day when you can satisfy me, by plain proofs, that your income is three thousand pounds a year, ask me for my niece’s hand and it is yours. Ven May I inquire if you have mentioned this arrangement to Marguerite ? Oben Certainly. She has a last little morsel of regard still left for me, Mr. Vendale, which is not yours, and she accepts my terms. In other words, she submits to be guided by her guardian’s regard fur her welfare, and by his superior knowledge of the world. Ven [After a pause ] I protest against the conditions you impose upon me. Oben Naturally. I dare say I should protest, myself, in your place. What else ? Ven Your objection to my income has taken me by surprise. I wish to be assured against any repetition of that surprise. Your present views of my qualifications for marriage require me to have an income of three thousand a year ; can I be certain in the future, as your experience of England enlarges, that your estimate will rise no higher ? Oben In plain English, you doubt me ? Ven Do you propose to take my word for it, when I inform you that I have doubled my income ? If my memory does not deceive me, you stipulated, a minute since, for plain proofs. Oben Well played, Mr. Vendale ! You combine the foreign quick- ness with the English solidity. Accept my best congratulations. Accept also my written guaranty. [Turns and writes , and hands paper to Vendale when finished.'] Are you satisfied with my guaranty ? Ven [Having read paper.] I am satisfied. Within a year we shall be married. 2-1 IDENTITY; OB, Ohen Charmed to hear it I am sure. We have had our little skirmish, we have really been wonderfully clever on both sides. For the present our affairs are settled. I bear no malice, you bear no malice. Come, Mr. Yendale, a good English shake-hands. [They shake hands.] And now tell me, my dear sir, have you received any letter from Neuchatel? Any more news of the forged receipt for five hundred pounds ? Ven I have just received a very strange letter. The matter has taken a new turn, and the letter insists, without excepting anybody, on my keeping our next proceeding secret. Ohen [: Turning thoughtfully to window.] “Without excepting any- body.” [After a pause.] Surely they must have forgotten or they would have excepted me ? Ven It is Monsieur Holland who writes, and as you say, he must have forgotten ; that view of the matter quite escaped me. I was just wishing I had you to consult, when you came into the room, and here I am, tied by a formal prohibition, which cannot possibly have been intended to include you. How very annoying. Ohen [ Watching Yendale attentively.] Perhaps it is more than annoy- ing. I came, not only to hear the news and to keep my appoint- ment, but to offer myself as messenger, negotiator, what you will. Would you believe it ? I have letters which oblige me to go to Switz- erland immediately. Messages, documents, anything, I could have taken them all to Defreisner & Co. for you. Ven You are the very man I wanted. I had determined, most unwillingly, on going myself, not five minutes since, because I could find no one here, capable of taking my place. Let me look at the letter again. [Goes to strong room , takes out letter and looks at it. Obenreizer watches him narrowly , as if considering whether to attack him , and then turns away to the fire. Ohen [Aside.] No ! the risk would to be too great ! Ven [Putting letter in his breast pocket.] It is most annoying. Mr. Holland’s forgetfulness places me in an absurdly false position to- wards you. I have no choice but to be guided, not by the spirit, but by the letter of my instructions. You understand me, I am sure ? You know if I had not been fettered in this way, how gladly I should have accepted your services ? Ohen Say no more ! In your place I should have done the same. My good friend, I take no offense. I thank you for your compli- ment. We shall be traveling companions, at any rate ! you go, as I go, at once ! Ven By the first mail train. Ohen I will go for my portmanteau, and be with you in five minutes. Now, not another word, or I shall feel offended. [Hurries out door L. Yendale takes up books and papers and goes to place them in strong-room , his back is to audience — Joey conducting Marguerite, appears at door in flat. Joey [Aside to her.] He’s there, Miss. Oh, come now, don’t be a thanking of me, for bringing you in at the side door. Lord love NO THOROUGHFARE. 25 yon, as I have told ’em a many times, after a hearing of your sing- ing, “You may all on ye go to bed, arter that” and I’ll do any- thing for you. He’s there ! [ Exits door in flat. At noise , Vend alb turns, closes strong room , and sees Marguerite. Ven Marguerite, you here ? "What happiness. Mar I was behind that door, waiting until my guardian should leave you. I overheard the arrangement for your journey. Ven Dear Marguerite — • Mar We have only a few moments, George. Madame Dor has been good to me, and we can have those few moments alone. [ Eagerly clasping his arm.] Have you done anything to offend Mr. Obenreizer ? Ven I ? Mar Hush ! I want to whisper it. You know the little photo- graph I have of you ? — This afternoon it happened to be on the chimney-piece. He took it up and looked at it, and I saw his face in the glass. I know you have offended him ! He is merciless ! He is revengeful ! He is as secret as the grave ! Don’t go with him, George ! Don’t go with him! Ven My own love, you are letting )'our fancy frighten you ! Oben- reizer and I were never better friends than we are at this moment. Mar But for all that, George, don’t go with him ! Don’t go ! Ven I cannot withdraw from his company now, and I myself must go this very day. Come, come, compose yourself. One kiss before he returns. [. Kisses her.] Have no fears. Mar Hark ! that is his step ! Conceal me somewhere. Joey will see me home. _ Oh, George, don’t go with him ! Pray don’t go with him ! Ven Quick ! Here ! Farewell, dearest ! [. Kisses her, raises window curtains, she gets behind them , just as Obenreizer enters door l, in traveling dress. Oben [To Vendale, who has gathered up his coat, Sfc., tapping him on the breast.] En route, my friend, for Neuchatel! They exeunt door l — Obenreizer first. Just as they are gone, Joey enters door in flat, and Marguerite comes from behind curtains. Mar He has gone with him ! He is lost ! [Faints in Joey’s arms. QUICK DROP. ACT III. Apartment in a Swiss Inn. Dark panneled room ; wood fire in set fire place R. ; near R. c. — against the flat , a bedstead. Door and window in L. flat ; at l. a set door with rude clumsy latch. Light from the fire so as to cast a shadow (in the l. corner of scene) of Vendale when sitting 26 IDENTITY; 0H ; in front of hearth. Rude table , chairs and lounge ; candle burning on table; music. [Obenreizer, Vend ale, Landlord and two Guides discovered : waiter removing dinner things from table. Landlord You had better listen, gentlemen, to the advice of these men; they know what they are talking about ; no human creature has crossed the pass for four days. First Guide Yes> gentlemen, that’s the truth. The snow above the snow-line is too soft for wheels, and not hard enough for a sledge ! Second Guide [Looking from the window.] And see, sirs, there is snow in the sky. Land And has been for days past ; it is a marvel that it has not fallen. First G But it must fall ! Ven Do you then refuse to guide us ? First G No, sir, we don’t say that. We will guide you, but we must have danger-price. Second G Whether we take you across or have to turn back for safety. Oben [To Vend ale.] The trade of these poor devils ; how they stick to their trade ! You Englishmen say we Swiss are mercenary. Truly it does look like it. We want no guide. First G Well, gentlemen, what do you say ? Oben This is what I say. We want no guide who might be for turning back. This gentleman— Ven Has very pressing occasion to get across — Oben You hear — has very pressing occasion to get across— must cross. We want no advice and no help. I am mountain bom, and will act as guide. Now don’t worry us, but leave us to ourselves. Where is my room, Landlord ? Land This one, sir. [Points to door L. [The Guides have gone up to door in flat , conversing. First Guide comes down. First G Well, gentlemen, as you have made up your minds, we have nothing to complain of. Remember there are five places of shelter, near together, on the dangerous road before you, and there is the wooden cross and the next Hospice. Second G Do not stray from the track. First G If the Tourmente comes on, take shelter instantly . Good night ! Second G Good night ! Ven Thanks, friends! Good night! Oben Landlord, remember to call us at four. Land I shall be sure, gentlemen, to attend to your commands ; and although I wish you had accepted these men’s services — Oben Enough, Landlord, our minds are made up - I am guide. NO THOROUGHFARE. 27 [Landlord bows and exits , with Guides and Waiter, door flat. Vendale and 0 ben keizer sit near fire. Oben Bah ! I am weary of these poor devils and their trade. Always the same story. All we want we have, a mountain staff each, a couple of knapsacks. We leave our portmanteaus here, and we cross together. We have been on the mountains before now, and I am mountain born, and I know this pass — pass — say rather, high road — by heart ! Let these poor devils trade with others — their fears and alarms are so many pretexts for earning money. Yet, once for all, must this journey be continued ? Ven I have a very serious matter in charge ; more of these miss- ing forms may he turned to as had account or worse ; I am urged to lose no time in helping the house to take the thief, and nothing shall turn me back. Oben [Taking his hand.'] Then nothing shall turn me back. We will go on ! Ven Don’t you think we have been rather rash in refusing these men ? Oben I am your guide and will guide you to your journey’s end. Ven We might have been spared this extra traveling had Mr. Holland not been taken ill, or had Defreisner remained at Neu- chatel, instead of posting off to Milan. Oben [Rise s and ivalks nervously and anxiously up and down the room , gets finally near the window.] The night wind sounds like the okl water- fall at home, when I was a pupil of the watchmaker. I remember it as sometimes saying to me, for whole days, “Who are you, my little wretch ?” At other times its sound was hollow, and it seemed to say, * ‘ Beat him, beat him !’’ Like my mother enraged — if she was my mother ? Ven [Turning round in his chair.] If she was ? If she was, why do you say if ? Oben What do I know ? What would you have ? I am so obscurely born, that, how can I say ? I was very young, and all the others were men and women, and my so-called parents were old. Anything is possible in a case like that. Ven Did you doubt — ? Oben [Throwing up his hands in the air.] I told you once, I doubt the marriage of those two. But here I am in creation. I come of no fine family, what does it matter ? [lie walks up and down. Ven [Watching him.] At least you are Swiss ? Oben How do I know ? I say to you, at least you are English. How do you know ? Ven By what I have been told from infancy. Oben Ah, I know of myself that way. Ven And by my earliest recollection. Oben I also, 1 know of myself that way if that satisfies— Ven Does it not satisfy you ? Oben It must. There is nothing like 11 It must ” in this little world. (l It must,” two short words those, but stronger than long proofs or reasoning. [Pacing up and down. 28 IDENTITY; OR, Ven You and poor Wilding were born in the same year, you were nearly of an age ? Oben Yes, very nearly. Ven [. Aside .] Can this be the man ? [Falls into a reverie. Oben [Aside, hooking at Vendale.] Where shall I rob him, if I can, where shall I — I must have that receipt — I must save myself by it, or I am lost beyond hope ! [Aloud. ] Well, I must get a few minutes* sleep. Do you lock your door ? Ven Not I — I sleep too soundly. Oben You are so sound a sleeper — what a blessing. Ven Anything but a blessing to the rest of the house, if I have to be roused from the outside of my bedroom door. Oben I too leave open my room. But let me advise you, as a Swiss who knows, always when you travel in my country, put your papers — and of course your money — under your pillow — always the same place. Ven [Laughing.'] You are not complimentary to your countrymen. Oben My countrymen, [Touching Vendale* s elbows] I suppose, are like the majority of men, and the majority of men will take what they can get. Adieu ! At four ! Ven Adieu ! At four ! Obenreizer exits door l. Vendale, after miking up the fire , sits near it, in such a position as to cast a shadow on l to all. Ven I have no inclination to sleep. I wonder what Marguerite is doing — poor girl. — What could she have meant by her caution to me about Obenreizer — those old thoughts of mine are strengthened by his speech. — The coincidences are wonderful. What can be the reason of his objection to my suit for Marguerite’s hand ? Can I have a rival in him ? — and yet his manner betrays no such feeling — his address to her is deferential. What secret and unjust suspicions fill my mind against this man — when he speaks they are all dis- persed, but in his silence and thoughtfulness they return. I prefer his speech to his silence. Should I like this man to be the real Wilding? No! Argue with myself as I may, I should not like such a substitute in place of my late guileless, outspoken, childlike partner— -no — no — Obenreizer will not do in poor Walter’s place. [Music. The candle goes out , he looks round for another , and in doing so no- tices the shadow. Stage darker.] Why, that shadow on the wall is very unlike my own, and not unlike a dreamy one of poor Wilding’s. [Re moves his seat to the end of the bed. The shadow disappears. A pause. The latch of the door l is seen gradually to lift ; the door then opens a very little. A pause. Then, whilst Vendale watches it, the door opens softly, and Obenreizer, in his shirt with the sleeves rolled up. and in his pantaloons and stocking feet , with a dagger in his girdle, enieo's very cautiously.] Oben [In a hoarse whisper.] Vendale ! [After a pause, when in c. of Stage.] Vendale ! Ven [Springing from his seat.] What now ? Who is it ? Oben [Star's, then rushes forward and clutches Vendale’ s shoulders.] Ah ! NO THOROUGHFARE. 29 Ven What is it ? Oben Not in bed ? Then something is wrong. Ven [ Releasing himself.'] What do you mean Oben First tell me, are you ill ? Ven 111 ! No ! Oben I have had a bad dream about you. How is it I see you up and dressed ? Ven I might as well ask you that question. Oben I have told you why. I have had a bad dream about you. I tried to rest after it, but found it impossible ; I could not make up my mind to stay where I was, without knowing you were safe ; and yet I could not make up my mind to come in here — I have been minutes hesitating at the door. [Vend ale laughs*] It is so easy to laugh at a dream that you have not dreamed. Where is your candle ? Ven Burnt out. Oben I have one in my room, shall I fetch it ? Ven Do so. Obenreizer crosses to the door l, exits, and returns with a candle, which he carries to the hearth r, stoops down , blows a flame, and lights candle. Stage light. Vend ale watches him. Ven Your lips are white — you tremble. Oben Yes ! It was a bad dream. — Only look at me. If there had been a wrestle with a robber, as I dreamed, you see I was ready for it. Ven And armed, too ! Oben A traveler’s dagger, that I always carry on the road. [Half draws it and replaces it.] Do you carry no such thing? Ven Nothing of the kind. Oben No pistols ? [ Looking at table , then at pillow on bed. Ven Nothing of the sort. Oben You Englishmen are so confident. You wish to sleep ? Ven I have wished to sleep this long time, but can’t do it ! Oben I neither, after the bad dream. My fire has gone the way of your candle ; may I come in and sit by yours ? It is so late now, it is not worth the trouble of going to bed. Ven I shall not go to bed at all — sit here and keep me company. Oben One moment, till I fetch my cloak. [Crosses and exits door l. Vend ale puts wood on fire. Obenreizer returns with a drinking flask ; he has put on a cloak and slippers. Obenreizer filling the flask cup.] Com- mon Cabaret brandy, I am afraid, bought upon the road, and not like yours from Cripple Corner. But yours is exhausted, so much the worse. A cold night, a cold time of night, a cold country, and a cold house. This may be better than nothing — try it. [Vend ale drinks. Oben How do you find it ? Ven [Putting down the cup with a slight shudder . It has a coarse after- flavor, and I don’t like it ! Oben [Tasting and smacking his lips.] You are right,. it has a coarse after-flavor and I don’t like it. [Flinging the remains of the cup in the fire , it flames up.] Booh ! it burns, though ! 30 IDENTITY ; OR, [They both sit leaning on the table , Obenreizer watching Vend ale, who gradually becomes heavy with slumber , and finally , whilst speaking, falls asleep . Yen [Dreamily.] It will soon be time to start — wont it? Pok ! that brandy — what a — coarse — after — taste it— has — [Putting his hand to hisbreast pocket.] A great nuisance that— that — Defreisner — should — should — be in — in — where is he ? — ah, — true, — Milan — never mind — we’ll cross — the — pass — Marguerite — I wonder — what she is — thinking — [Falls fast asleep. Obenreizer assures himself of this, then darts to bed, raises the pillow and searches for papers, — not finding any , glances round the room ; hesitates — finally crosses gently to Vend ale, and as he is in the act of putting his hand to his breast-pocket, a loud knocking is heard, at door in flat. Landlord [Outside.] Four o’clock, gentlemen ! Four o’clock ! Oben Malediction ! [Picture closed in by. SCENE II. — In first grooves, very early morning. The Court-yard of the Hospice. Enter Two Porters of the Hospice, from l. , with ropes, etc. First Porter We may venture now ! [Fastening a basket on his back, the other does the same. They both carry strong spiked poles. Second P The weather is still bad. The Tourmente is abroad — look how it sweeps along the gorge. First P No matter, let us be off. The dogs are waiting. Have we everything we need ? Second P Yes, good Father Paul saw to that. First P Well, let us be off. Stay, [Looking off r.] what is that coming up the path ? Second P Two mad creatures. Is it possible in such weather ? First P And one of them a woman ? Second P A woman ! impossible ! First P See for yourself — they are here ! Enter from r. Marguerite and Joey, in traveling costume — Joey very much exhausted. Mar Are we in time ? First P What do you mean ? Mar We are in search of two gentlemen : we have followed them almost to this place, but lost them in the course of last evening. First P Then they have avoided the Hospice — We have seen no one. We were about to start on our usual journey to help any travelers needing aid, and were only delayed by the Tourmente. You and your friend will receive every comfort here. Mar Dear guides, dear friends of travelers, let us go with you. The two gentlemen we seek must be in some part of the pass. Second P In such weather! — impossible ! Mar Oh, no, no ! — You must let us go with you. First P See, Miss, your companion is quite exhausted. Joey [Faintly.] If my master is in danger, Miss, it’s my duty to follow him ; and its more than my duty to follow you. NO THOROUGHFARE. 81 Mar Oh, let me go with you ! let me go with you ! for the love of God ! One of these gentlemen is to be my husband. I love him, oh, so dearly ! You see I am not faint , you see I am not tired I am born a peasant girl. They will be lost — he will be lost. Let me go with you ; I will show you that I know well how to fasten myself to your ropes. — I will do it with my own hands. — I will swear to be brave and good— but let me go with you ! let me go with you ! If any mischance should have befallen him, my love would find him when nothing else could. On my kness, let me go with you ! By the love your dear mothers had for your fathers, let me go with you ! — let me go ! First P [To Second Porter.] After all she speaks but the truth. She knows the ways of the mountains. See how marvelously she has come here. But this gentleman, Miss — Mar Dear Mr. Joey, you will remain at the house here, and wait for me, will you not ? Joey [Looking at the Porters indignantly.'] If I know’d which o’ you recommended it, I’d fight you for sixpence, and give you half-a- crown towards your expenses. No, Miss ; I’ll stick by you as long as there’s any sticking left in me, and I’ll die for you when I can’t do better. First P This gentleman, Miss, not being so well acquainted with the dangers of our lives, puts his own ability to meet them, per- haps, at too high a value. Joey Well, never you mind how high I puts them, prowided they don’t trouble you. Once for all, are ye a going to take this here lady and myself in search of the two gentlemen ? First P Has Miss observed the effects of the last Tourmente. Here they were frightful. Mar Whilst we stand here talking, perhaps he is in danger — per- haps both are lost. First P But the risk is very great to you, Miss, and although I, for one, would gladly aid you, I cannot do so without the Superior’s consent. That obtained, we will help you all in our power. Mar And to see him ? First P I will take you with me to him, You can plead your own request better than any one else. Mar Oh ! pray, pray take me to him at once. You, Joey, remain here — I shall not be long. My heart beats now with anxiety to be upon the road. Good friend, lead me to your Superior. First P This way then, Miss. [They exeunt , l. Joey These here men are rough to look at, but they’re a good brand — As for her, she’s a hangel, that's what she is, and I know it. I say, mister, you have but a lonely life up here, haven’t you ? Second P Lonely ! Have we not our dogs ? Joey What, them big animals as I saw outside a rolling in the snow, and tossing on it up with their paws ? Second P It is their way of expressing their joy at being let out. Joey Well, every one to their taste ; perhaps they takes theirs in at the pores too, who knows. I don’t care if after this here business is IDENTITY ; OR, over, and Miss an’ Master safe at borne, if I don’t never see no more passes nor gorges, nor grand mullets, nor nothing o’ the sort. Once in a life-time’s enough for Joey Ladle— “ Cripple Court,” although it ain’t got No Througiifare, is good enough for him, for the rest of his life, wapors and all. All, here’s Miss Marguerite. [Marguerite enters l. with First P. Mar All is well, my dear Mr. Joey, we have the Superior’s per- mission. Let us depart at once, and pray God we may find them. Joey With all my heart, Miss. Mar I am afraid, my dear friend, I’m taxing your endurance heavily. Joey Not another word, Miss — I know only one thing as will keep me up, and I ain’t likely to forget it, and that’s Duty. So have no fears for Joey, as long as he can put one foot afore another. Mar Brave heart ! Brave heart ! [Music. [They exeunt followed by the Porters, r. ii. SCENE III. — The gallery in the mountains. A narrow ledge running round a huge rock, extending to c. of the stage , under which is a cavern. This is on the left hand of the stage , and the gallery itself rises gradually up towards the back, where it turns round and off . It is a considerable height from the stage, and goes off at the l. entrance. It and the cavern are practicable. Beneath the gallery , the sledge should be cut in a large hole, or masked with black and dark cloths to represent an immense ravine , masked in by a very low set piece of ice and snow. The back drop is painted to represent a wild and desolate spot in the Alps, gloomy emd covered with snow. At the open- ing of the scene, the snow is falling, ivhirled into circling flights by the wind, imitating in this iv ay the ;i Tourmente.” The ivind whistles, and from time to time the noise of falling masses of snow from the mountains into the valleys is heard , like distant thunder. Music descriptive of the above effects. The lights low. After a pause, Obenreizer and Yendale are seen to ap- pear on the gallery from the l side, walking with difficulty, aided by their Alpine Stocks , and shielding themselves from the wind and snow. Oben [Stopping near the mouth of the cavern.'] Help me with my knap- sack. We had better pause here and gain breath before going on. Pooh ! the il Tourmente ” is fierce this morning. This cavern affords some slight shelter. Ven [Unbuckling Obenreizer’ s knapsack.] I’m half numbed with cold and sleep. I must lie down and rest. Oben [ Walking up and down.] Sleep would be eternal here. Ven Then let us on ! [Approaching the extreme end of the gallery whei-e it turns round the rock, a ivhirling blast of wind seeming to drive him back ] It is impossible ; I cannot see for the snow, which blinds me ; I can- not hold my feet. Oben [Holding out flask.] Here — oh, don’t be afraid, it’s not that vile brandy — ’tis sherry — drink ! [Yendale drinks, Obenreizer ap- pears to do so too, but throws it over his shoulder We shall he detained here a couple of hours. The wind will not subside sooner. [A pause —aside.] It works already. NO THOROUGHFARE. 33 Ven [ Staggering as if drunk.] What can this feeling be ? The place appears to spin round. What is it you have given me to drink ? Oben That which gives me power over you. The hour is come ! \IIe grapples with Vendale, who , after a struggle , succeeds in throwing him off. Ven [. During struggle.] Ah, the dagger! the dagger ! [. Blindly clutches for it, and at last succeeds in pulling it from Obenreizer’ s waist ; he then makes many stabs at him, but feebly , owing to the effects of the wine . Obenreizer and he are now standing apart.] What does this mean, wretch ? [He leans against the rock. Oben I promised to guide you to your journey’s end, and 1 have kept my promise. The journey of your life ends here. Nothing can prolong it. You are sleeping as you stand. Ven You are a villain— what have you done to me ? Oben You are a fool — I have drugged you — you are doubly a fool, for I drugged you last night to try you, and the effects are still upon you ; you are trebly a fool, for I am the thief and forger, and in a few moments I shall take those proofs against the thief and forger from your insensible body. Ven [Trying to throw off his lethargy.] Where am I ? Who is it that speaks to me ? Whose blood is that upon the snow ? What have you done to me, Obenreizer ? What have I done to you — that you should be— so base— a murderer — Oben Done to me ? You would have destroyed me, but that you have come to your journey’s end ! Your cursed activity interposed between me and the time I had counted on in which I might have replaced the money. Done to me ! — You have come in my way — not once — not twice — but again and again and again ! Did I try to shake you off in the beginning, or no ? You were not to be shaken off! Done to me ?— You would wed Marguerite ! — Therefore you die ! Ven [Trying to speak coherently.] Die here ! — What does it mean ? Who says I must die here ? [Tries to pick up his Alpine stock, but fails to do so ; then tries to stagger on, but stops and stumbles ; then, when on the ground, makes a vigorous effort and supports himself on his hands,] Oben [Laughing grimly.] You call me murderer. The name matters but very little. But at least I have set my life against yours ; for I am surrounded by dangers, and may never make my way out of this place. Hark ! [The wind heard whistling.] The Tourmente is rising again. — The snow is on the whirl. I must have the papers now. — Every moment has my life in it. [Advancing. Ven [Starting up with an immense effort , and speaking in d, loud, clear voice] Stop ! [Obenreizer stands amazed ; then makes a rush at him, and tries to clutch the papers from his breast pocket. Vendale seizes his hands.] Stop ! Stand away from me ! [Pushes Obenreizer from him.] Stand away from me ! God bless my Marguerite ! Happily she will never know how I died. Stand off from me and let me look at your mur- derous face ! Let it remind me of something — left to say — [Glaring wildly at Obenreizer, who stands powerless to move.] It shall not be — the trust— of the dead— betrayed by me— reputed parents— misinherited 31 IDENTITY; OK, fortune — see to it — [He falls, his head on his breast ; Obenreizer bends to him ; the moment he puts his hand on Yendale’s breast , Yendale screams out] Never ! [and rolls himself off the gallery into the ravine below. A pause , [Obenreizer makes one movement as if to look over ; then , as if giddy and conscience stricken , starts back and leans against the rock ; then staggers off round rock at back. The stage gradually darkens , the snow comes down witk great density ; the wind is heard moaning , and the Tourmente seems to be at its height. A pause. Then from the l. enter Marguerite, two Porters and Joey. (If two St. Bernard dogs can be obtained and used, the effect would be greatly enhanced ; they should carry cloths and a canteen , as in pictures.) The characters appear to have great difficulty in making their way along the gallery , and are fastened together with ropes , in the following order : First Porter, Marguerite, Second Porter, Joey. If the dogs are used , the following is the business for them : For some time the scene is in pantomime , descriptive music being played. One of the dogs approaches as if by scent , to the ledge of the precipice , over which Yenbale has fallen , and after several times round , to and fro, makes a set with fore legs extended ever the very spot ; the other dog, tearing at the snow , then imitates the action : both howl. If the dogs are not used, the First Porter fdls up the business of finding the traces, and seems to track the course by the blood „ When once the spot is assured , the action proceeds thus : Mar There is some one lying below. First P I think so. Stand well inward the last two, and let us look over. [The Second Porter takes the two torches from his basket, and with some trouble lights them in cave ; and whilst the Second Porter and Joey stand well toward the cavern, Marguerite aud the First Porter lean over, move their torches r. and l. and seem to try to peer into the gloom of the abyss. After some time, Marguerite utters a piercing shriek. Mar Ah ! my God ! on a projecting point, where a wall of ice stretches forward, over the torrent, I see a human form. First P Where, Mam’selle, where? Mar See ! on the shelf of ice below there ! [The First Porter draws back — a pause — Marguerite quickly detaches herself from the rope. Mar Show me the baskets. These two are the only ropes ? [Looking at baskets ivhich the Porters have placed on the ground. First P The only ropes here, ManTselle, but at the Hospice — Mar If he is now alive — I know it is my lover — he will be dead before you can return. Dear guides ! Blessed friends to travelers ! Look at me — watch my hands. [Beginning to fix the ropes rapidly about her body , making a sort of frame.] Watch my hands; if they falter or go wrong, make me your prisoner by force. If they are steady and go right, help me to save him. [Fixes the rope during speech, around herself. Joey falls insensible. First P She is inspired. Mar By heaven’s mercy ! you both know I am by far the lightest here ! Give me the brandy and wine, [They give them] and low r er me* NO THOROUGHFARE 35 down to him. Then go for assistance, and a stronger rope. You see that when it is lowered to me — look at this about me now — I can make it fast and safe to his body. Alive or dead I will bring him up, or die with him. I love him passionately. Can I say more ? [ Hangs kegs about her. Whilst speaking she has been nervously arranging ropes , etc. about her.] Lower me down to him. [They pause.] I am a peasant and know no giddiness or fear, and this is nothing to me, and I passionately love him. Lower me down to him, or I will dash myself to pieces ! First P Mam’selle, he must be dying or dead. Mar Dying or dead, my husband’s head shall lie upon my breast ! [A short pause — the Porters then seize the rope and gradually lower her down , she steadying herself. First Porter lies down on the snow , leaning over the edge. Second Porter holds torch over the abyss. First P Is it really he, and is he dead ? [A pause. Mar [Below.] He is insensible, but his heart beats against mine ! [Second Porter fixes one torch in the snow , and starts off the gllery L. If dogs are used they follow. First P How does he lie ? [A pause. Mar [Below.] Upon a ledge of ice. It has thawed beneath him, and it will thaw beneath me — hasten. If we die, I am content. [First Porter turns to Joey, and uses efforts to recover him , pouring h'andy down his throat , etc. Joey [After a pause. Delirious.] Aye — in at the pores — that’s how I takes it — yes, they do say — fungus on a man’s breast — he'll surely die of murder — he had it on — young Mr. Vendale of Cripple Court — No Throughfare— Arter her singing — Lor’ bless ye, ye may all on ye get to bed arter that. First Porter returns to edge of abyss. Joey is seen to recover slowly. First P Courage ! They will soon be here ! How goes it ? [A pause. Mar [Below.] His heart still beats against mine ! I warm him in my arms ! I cast off the rope, for the ice melts under us, and the rope would separate me from him ; but I am not afraid ! [A long pause, during which First Porter looks anxiously off l. , and also at Joey. Joey [Wandering.] Eh ? — Where am I ? — Ah, I was always too much down among the wapors. — Eh ! — yes, that’s it — we never had no mis-* take with Pebbleson Nephew. But you’re too young, Mr. Vendale — > that’s what it is ! — You calls that there saying about fungus, stupid — well, perhaps it is — First P [At abyss.] How goes it ? [A pause. Mar [Below.] We are sinking fast — but his heart still beats against mine ! A shout is heard , then the Second Porter and the two Guides and two Peasants with torches, ( if dogs are used , they also ) enter from l. on gal- lery. They have ropes , blankets , and wood to kindle afire ; the Peasants light the fire in cave ; Porters and Guides uncoil the ropes. 36 IDENTITY ; OR, First P [. During the above business.] Courage ! All is ready. How goes it? [A long 'pause . Mar [Below.] We are sinking still, and we are deadly cold. His heart no longer beats against mine. Let no one come down to add to our weight. Lower the rope only ! [They lower the rope. The Peasants having lighted the fire , lower two lamps. A long pause. All in listening attitudes. Mar [Below.] Raise softly. [They raise Vend ale very slowly. After an interval , he is brought to the gallery, to all appearance, dead. They lay him out on the blankets ; then lowering the rope again , they wait. Another pause. Mar [Below.] Raise softly. [^4s before they raise and help her to the surface. — She quickly unlooses the rope. Mar [Falling near Vend ale’s body, and placing her hand to his breast , and her ear to his lips, she utters a scream . ] Dead ! Dead ! My lover is dead! PICTURE — MODERATELY SLOW DROP. ACT IV. SCENE. — Maitre Voigt’s Office at Neuchutel. Door and window in r. flat , backed by a pleasant landscape. In l. flat double sliding-doors of oak , without lock or handle, and studded with nails. To discover , when opened, a tolerably large dark room, round which are shelves filled with books, deed boxes , and papers ; on r. side, behind sliding -doors, a clock with one hand ; beneath it a steel regulator and hand. Doors to slide very evenly and noise- lessly open at cue. Stove L. with musical box and cuckoo clock on mantel; table for office purposes near c. Chairs, pens, ink and papers. Book-case filled with books, r. h. set door r. Time, Noon. Maitre Voigt and Obenreizer, who is in mourning , discovered sitting c. Voigt [Kindly.] Courage, courage, my good fellow — you will begin a new life in my office. Oben [Placing his hand to his heart.] The gratitude is here, but the words to express it are not here. Voight [Taking snuff out of a very large snuff-box.] Ta— ta — ta — Don’t talk to me about gratitude ! I hate to see a man oppressed. Your father sent me my first client. Do I owe nothing to your father’s son ? I owe him a debt of friendly obligation, and I pay it to you. Oben Do me one last favor, sir — Do not act on impulse. Let my claim on your benevolence be recognized by your sound reason, as well as by your excellent heart. In that case, I may hold up my head against the bitterest of my enemies, and build myself a new reputation on the ruins of the character I have lost. Voigt As you will ; you speak well, my son. You will be a fine lawyer one of these days. NO THOROUGHFARE. 37 Oben The details are not many. My troubles begin with the ac- cidental death of my late traveling companion, my lost friend, Mr. Yendale. Voigt Mr. Yendale. Just so— I have heard and read of the name several times within these two months. The name of the unfor- tunate English gentleman who was killed in the pass. When you got that scar upon your cheek and neck — Oben From my own knife ! Voigt From your own knife, and in trying to save him. Good, good, good. That was very good. Yendale ! Yes, I have several times thought it droll that I should once have had a client of that name. Oben But the world is so small. [. Aside .] Had once a client of that name. I must remember that ! [. Aloud .] As I was saying, sir, the death of that dear traveling comrade begins my troubles. What follows ? I save myself. I go down to Milan. I am received with coldness by Defreisner & Company. Why ? They give no reason why. I ask, do they assail my honor ? No answer. I ask, what am I to think ? I am told that what I think is of no importance to them. And that is all ! Voigt [ Taking snuff.] Perfectly. That is all ! Oben But is that enough, sir ? Voigt That is not enough. The House of Defreisner are my townsmen, but they must not silently destroy a man’s character. You can rebut assertion. But how can you rebut silence ? Oben Your sense of justice, my dear patron, states in a word the cruelty of my case. Does it stop there ? No. Voigt [Nodding.] True, my dear boy, your ward rebels upon that. Oben Rebels is too soft a word. My ward revolts from me with horror; she withdraws herself from my authority, and, with Madame Dor, takes shelter with that English lawyer, Mr. Bin trey, who re- plies to your summons for her submission, that she will not submit. Voigt [Looking amongst papers on table ] And who afterwards writes [Finding letter] that he is coming to confer with me. Oben [Startled] Indeed ! Well, sir, have I no legal rights ? Voigt Assuredly, my poor boy. — All but felons have their legal rights. Oben [Fiercely.] And who calls me felon ? Voigt No one. Be calm under your wrongs. Oben In saying that he is coming to confer with you, this English lawyer means that he is coming to deny my authority over my ward. Voigt You think so ? Oben I am sure of it. I know him. He is obstinate and conten- tious. You will tell me, my dear sir, whether my authority is un- assailable, until my ward is of age ? Voigt Absolutely unassailable. Oben [Angrily. ] I will enforce it. I will make her submit herself to it. For [More quietly] I owe it to you, sir; to you who have taken an injured man under your protection and into your employ- ment. IDENTITY ; Oil, 33 Voigt Make your mind easy. No more of this now, and no thanks. Give me a few instants whilst I arrange these papers. [Busies himself at table. f- Oben [Aside.'] He once had a client of the name of Yendale, had he ? I ought to know England well enough by this time, and it is not a name I ever encountered there, except [Looks round nervously] as his name. Is the world so small that I cannot get away from him, even now when he is dead ? He confessed at the last that he had betrayed the trust of the dead and misinherited a fortune. — And I was to see to it. — And I was to stand off that my face might remind him of it. Why my face, unless it concerned me f I am sure of his words, for they have been in my ears ever since. Can there be any- thing bearing on them, in the keeping of this old idiot? Anything to repair my fortunes, and blacken his memory ? He dwelt upon my earliest remembrances, that night. Why, unless he had a purpose in it ? Voigt [Rising ] I have business that takes me for a short time from home. I will first put away these municipal papers. Oben [Aside.] Ah, the very chance ! [Aloud.] Can’t I save you the trouble, sir? Can’t I put those documents away under your di- rections ? Voigt [Laughing quietly ] Suppose you try. All my papers of im- portance are kept yonder. [Pointing to doors in flat l. Obenreizer takes the papers , but stands puzzled, seeing no handle to doors.] Oben There is a second door to this room ? Voigt No — guess again. Oben There is a window ? Voigt No, it has been bricked up. The only way in is by that door. Do you give it up ? Listen and tell me if you hear nothing inside ? Oben [Puts his ear to door , then starts back.] I know ! It is the famous clock-lock. Voigt Bravo ! The clock-lock it is. People call it Daddy Voigt’s folly. Let those laugh who win. No thief can steal my keys, no burglar can pick my lock. Nothing but gunpowder or a battering- ram can open it. My worthy friend the clock alone can do that, and it is under my control. Oben [Eagerly.] May I see it in action ? Pardon my curiosity, dear sir ! you know I was once a tolerable worker in clocks. Voigt Certainly you shall ! See, look at the clock there. [Point- ing to mantel.] In one minute the doors will open of themselves. Watch them. [A minute 1 s pause. The cuckoo clock on mantle sounds twelve. At the end , the doors in flat , l. slide evenly and noiselessly open , disclosing the interior of room. Voigt takes a lighted taper and goes to doors. Voigt [Proudly.] You shall see the clock. I possess the greatest curiosity in Europe. See, here it is, on the right hand wall at the side of the door. Oben An ordinary clock. No ! not an ordinary clock. It has only one hand. Voigt That one hand goes round the dial. As I put it, so it regu- lates the hour at which the doors shall open. NO THOROUGHFARE. 39 Oben Does it open more than once in the twenty-four hours ? Voigt More than once ? A thousand times if I desire, and so reg- ulate this dial. I am now going to set it for opening twelve hours hence. Till that time it will remain firmly closed. [Sets the clock. Oben [Aside ] It must open sooner— it shall— but how ? Ah, I have it ! [Aloud, starting.] Ah ! Voigt [As he is closing the doors.] What is it ? Oben Stop, sir; don’t I see something moving among the boxes— on the floor there ? Voigt [Turns to look and Obenreizer changes the dial.] ’Tis nothing. Your troubles have shaken your nerves. Some shadow thrown from my taper, »or some poor little beetle, who lives among the old lawyer’s secrets, running from the light. [He blows out taper and emerges from the doors , and closes them.] And now I’ll be off to work, and build to-day, the first steps that lead to your new fortune. [Takes a pinch of snuff, and exits door in flat. Oben [Nervously lighting the taper.] Phew ! the cold sweat stands on my forehead. What if he should return — for as sure as fate herself, that door will open to a hairbreadth’s certainty, when another minute has passed. The risk is awful — He may come back — Ha! was that his step — No, it has passed the other way — I can hear my heart beat — louder [Puiting his ear to the door] than the clock — Yen- dale’s papers — the same name — an old client — will the time never pass — Ah, it has I it has ! [The doors open noiselessly as before ; he speaks whilst they open.] Ha ! ha ! Maitre Voigt, your famous clock-lock has for once, been picked — Now for the papers ! [Enters dark room , carry - ing taper, and hurriedly but carefully inspects every box and labeled parcel . Speaking whilst doing this.] “Municipal papers” — “Chaptal Freres” [Music box plays .] Hush — music? what is it — ah, that idiot’s toy — again — was not that a footstep ? No — only fancy ! — “Simonde and Company” — “ Cachat ” — It is not here! — Ah! Victory— “ Yen- dale.” [Takes box from corner with “Vend ale” painted on it, operts it with the key attached to box, and is on the point of taking out papers, but stops.] That step ? No — no— it is nothing — I thought I heard that voice — “ Misinherited fortune” — “see to it” — Bah! I am weak and nervous ! [Pulls out papers and reads them by light of taper.] What’s this? A letter to Mrs. Millar, of Groombridge Wells, England. [Running over the contents rapidly.] “ From Switzerland — from her mar- ried sister — childless for years — she and her husbanc^ lonely — have decided on adopting an heir — asks Mrs. Millar to get an infant from the Foundling Hospital — the child to be spared future mortification, to bear her husband’s name— to inherit their fortune according to Swiss, not English law — to be brought up as their own — above all to conceal the real name of the adopting parties, from the officials at the Foundling— giving only her own, Jane Ann Millar — and to en- trust the child to no other hands than her own, on the journey to Switzerland — ” Here is another paper — [Reads.] “ Memorandum to Swiss lawyer — adopted — Foundling, London, March 3d — male child called “ Walter Wilding ” — person adopting— Mrs. Millar — acting for her married sister in Switzerland.” — What’s here ? [Takes third and fourth paper.] “Certificate of Dr. Ganz, Neuchatel — attended child 40 IDENTITY; Oil during sickness, 1838 — three months after the death of the gentleman adopting the child.” Another paper? “The mistress, maid and child departed for England — mistress died — '' Why, the date is quite recent ! — “ The maid can swear to the identity of the infant from his childhood to his youth — from youth to manhood— her address is — [ Music box slops.] Oh, cursed luck that is contained in these papers — I was terribly in error, and so was he — they were not worth — Stay, let me think — [As he is about to put them back in box] — no — they may still be turned to some useful purpose— that old idiot will never miss them ! [Puts back the box , after thrusting papers in his breast pockety blows out the taper , and comes from doorway — closes the doors — wipes the perspiration from his brow, and stands a moment.] Yes, they *m ay serve me yet — their very existence is forgotten. Ah, they are here ! Enter Voigt and Bintrey, door in flat. Voigt's manner has changed en- tirely , from a friendly, to a stiff t constrained method of addressing Oben- reizer. Oben [Turning cordially to Voigt.] Ah, my dear benefactor — Voigt Enough, Mr. Obenreizer — here is Mr. Bintrey — We have business with him — be seated. [Takes snuff. They all sit. Oben [Aside.] What does this change mean ? [Aloud.] This gentle- man, [Pointing to Bintrey] a lawyer, is here to represent an infraction of the law. Bint Admirably put ! If all the people I have to deal with, were only like you, what an easy profession mine would be ! I am here to represent an infraction of the law — that is your point of view. I am here to make a compromise between you and your niece. Oben There must be two parties to a compromise. I decline in this case to be one of them. The law gives me authority to control my niece’s actions until she comes of age. She is not yet of age ; and I claim my authority. Bint [To Voigt, who is about to speak.] No, my worthy friend, not a word. Don't excite yourself unnecessarily — leave it to me. [To Obenreizer.] I can think of nothing comparable to you, Mr. Oben- reizer, but granite — and even that wears out in course of time. In the interests of peace and quietness — for the sake of your own dig- nity — relax a little. Oben You are wasting your time and mine. If my niece is not ren- dered up to my authority within one week from this day, I invoke the law. If you resist the law, I take her by force. [He rises. Bint Have some pity on the poor girl. — Remember how lately she lost her lover by a dreadful death ! Will nothing move you ? Oben Nothing ! [Bintrey and Voigt exchange glances ; both look at set door r. Obenreizer observes them. Oben There is somebody listening in there. Bint Yes ! Oben Who is it ? Bint You shall see ! [In a loud voice.] Come in ! The set door r. opens , and Marguerite enters. Obenreizer starts. NO THOROUGHFARE. 41 Oben [ After a pause.'] She here ? Bin Can you listen to her ? Oben [Recovering.] I can ! Mar You had not left England with Mr. Vendale, twenty-four hours, before I followed my promised husband, with no better com- panion to protect me than a cellarman in Mr. Vendale's employ- ment. Oben [Anxiously.] Why did you follow me ? Mar Because I suspected there had been some serious collision be- tween you and Mr. Vendale, kept secret from me, and because I rightly believed you capable of serving your interests, or satisfying your enmity at the price of a crime. I took the cellarman with me, because he had, though a senseless superstition, connected Mr. Vendale with the idea of danger by murder. We two set forth together— Do you understand me ? Oben I understand you so far. Mar All you need yet know is that my love and devotion recov- ered the body of your victim. [Obenreizer starts in horror.] You had written to Madame Dor. That letter came into Mr. Bintrey’s pos- session. He started for Switzerland, and at once took yourj case in hand. He furnished Defreisner & Co., the information which secured your discharge from their employment. Having stripped you of your false character, I now proceed to strip you of your authority over me. There is but one certain way of shaking the self-control which makes you formidable, and it is this ! [$Ae goes to set door , r., flings it open , and Vendale, leaning on Joey, enters He is very pale and has his arm in a sling. At sight of him , Obenreizer sinks into a chair , speechless and motion - foss.j This gentleman was also a listener ! [A pause. Voigt [To Bintrey, aside.] Look at him — Somebody ought to speak to him. Shall I ? [Bintrey motions Voigt to silence. Mar What remains to be done to set me free, is this : [Takes two slips of paper from Bintrey.] You are guilty of murder, by intention, and you have committed forgery and theft. The evidence is complete. Mr. Bintrey would have prefered to have taken the usual course with you, but he has been overruled. This interview must end, as he has told you, in a compromise. Sign these — resigning all author- ity over me, and pledging yourself never to be seen in England or in Switzerland again ; and we will sign an indemnity against further proceedings. [Obenreizer silently takes a pen and signs papers ; Bintrey, Vendale and Marguerite do the same — they exchange papers. Smiling bitterly Obenreizer retains his seat. Bint What are you waiting for ? Oben I have something to say, before I go. [To Voigt.] Do you remember teiilng me that you had once an English client named Vendale ? Voigt Well, what of that ? Oben Maitre Voisrt, your clock-lock has betrayed you. Voigt [Alarmed] What do you mean ? Oben That I have here, [Showing them] the letters and certificates that were in your client’s box— I know their contents. 42 IDENTITY; OR, [Voigt draws Bintrey aside — they converse for an instant eagerly and rapid- ly— Bint Well, Mr. Obenreizer, the last move in the game is yours. Play it. Ohen These papers [. Holding them up] establish beyond a doubt the fact that the child taken from the Foundling Hospital by Mrs. Mil- lar, and brought to Switzerland under the name of “ Walter Wild- ing,” was adopted by Mr. and Mrs. Vendale, and that you [ Pointing to Vendale] were that child — and that you are a Bastard ! If my niece marries you, she marries a bastard — brought up by public charity ! If my niece marries you, she marries an impostor, without name or lineage, disguised in the character of a gentleman of rank and family. Bint Bravo ! Admirably put, Mr. Obenreizer ! It only wants one word more to complete it. She marries, — thanks entirely to your exertions, — a man who inherits a handsome fortune, and a man whose origin will make him prouder than ever of his peasant wife. George Vendale, as brother executors, let us congratulate each other ! Our dear dead friend’s last wish on earth is accomplished. We have found the lost Walter Wilding. As Mr. Obenreizer says — You are the man ! Ohen Then my curse follow on your marriage ! George Vendale you are too strong for me now — but I can live and wait. My curse upon you ! [To Marguerite.] PICTURE — To close the Scene. Marguerite starts hack alarmed from Obenreizer, whose attitude is one of intense hate. Vendale takes a step for- ward as if to shield her. Voigt, Bintrey, Madame Dor and Joey, r. and l. SCENE II. — Swiss Village Street. — Front grooves. Music. Enter Bintrey and Joey, l. 1 e. Bin Well, Joey, what is your impression of the fortunes of the house of Wilding & Co., as represented by our dear Mr. Vendale? What are your sentiments on that subject, Mr. Ladle ? Joey Clear, sir ; I’m clearer altogether, sir, for having lived so many weeks on the surface. I never was half so long upon the sur- face before, and it’s done me a power of good. At Cripple Corner, I was too much below. — Atop of the Alps, I was a deal too high above it. — I’ve found the medium here, sir, and if ever I take it in con- wivial .in all the rest of my days, by the natural channel of my throttle, and not through the pores, I mean to do it now, to the toast of “ Bless ’em both.” Bint Ah, Joey, this is a happy day for me. When I recall our poor friend Wilding, I rejoice to think that his one great wish is so well accomplished, and that George Vendale is his heir. His heart prompted him to do a just action and the deserving have been re- warded. Joey Aye, that they have, or I’m no judge of a bottle of twenty- year-old port, or a hogshead of golden sherry of the right brand. Why, bless your heart, when I heard that there young lady, Miss Marguerite, a singing one night, what did I say, what did I say ? NO THOROUGHFARE. 43 Bint Well, Joey, what did you say? Joey Why, I up and says to the whole bilin’ of them, — and look at me they did too, — why, I up and says “ Arter that, ye may all on ye get to bed,” and for the matter of doing anything but muddling the most beautiful ’armony as ever mortals heard, so they might ; I'm not so muddled, nor yet so molloncholly as I was, but I sticks to what I said, and to bed they might have gone arter hearing of her. Bint And what did Mrs. Goldstraw say ? Joey Well, although she brought a power of trouble into the house, when she came, yet she brought a plenty of good too, for a more united set than the two other cellarmen, the three porters, the two 'prentices— aggrawa ting young imps they are too— and the odd men, I never saw — Bint That’s right, Joey, you’ve put a livelier face on it at last. Joey Well, sir, I’ve done my duty, and I could say with the best of them now— “ Bless 'cm both.” [A peal of marriage bells heard. Bint Hark ! they’ve started for the church. Come, Joey, let us be going. Joey All right, Mr. Bin trey, I’ll follow you in the turning of a cork-screw. [Exit Bintrey, r. 1 e. Joey Well he ain’t a bad sort — tho' he be a lawyer — but there’s good and bad of all sorts, even lawyers. He’s right — I ain’t so molloncholy, nor yet so muddled, as I was — [Sings— old air. With my jug in one hand and my pipe in my other, I’ll drink to my neighbor and friend, My cares in a whiff of tobacco I’ll smother, For life I know shortly must end. While Ceres most kindly refills my brown j ug With good ale I will make myself mellow ; In my old wicker chair I will seat myself snug, Like a jolly and true-hearted fellow. I’ll ne’er trouble my head with the cares of the nation, I’ve enough on my own for to mind ; For the cares of this life are but grief and vexation, To death we must all be consign’d. Then we’ll laugh, drink, and smoke, and leave nothing to pay, But drop like a pear that is mellow ; 4md when cold in my coffin I’ll leave them to say, *He’s gone, what a jolly good fellow. [Exits singing r. 1. e. SCENE III. — Swiss Village. On l. a church porch. Across the c. of stage, a triumphal arch of foliage is erected , bearing the inscription: “Honor and Love to Marguerite Yen dale,” Music and bells. An animated group of peasants discovered at opening of scene ; Bintrey and Joey amongst them. All shout. Bint Hurrah, good folks, don’t shout yourselves hoarse, or youTl have no voices left. Where can Maitre Voigt be? I thought he would have been the first to meet us. 44 IDENTITY ; OR, NO THOROUGHFARE. Joey [Looks off r.] Here comes Mr. Yendale, with she a hanging on his arm — Bless 'em both. Hurrah ! All Huzzah ! Huzzah ! Eater Yendale and Marguerite, attended by two Bridesmaids and Mad- , ame Dor. They bow their thanks to the peasants, and shake hands with Joey and Bin trey. Madame Dor. And now that we are all so — so — happy forgive me, my beautiful, for that I ever was his she-cat. Mar. She-cat, Madame Dor ! Madame Dor [ Sobbing. \ Engaged to sit watching my so charming mouse. Mar Why, you are our best friend — George, dearest, tell Madame Dor — was she not our best friend ? Tea You were indeed, for one day, whilst you were mending stockings — Mar [Her hand on his mouth:] Hush ! That would be to betray confidence — [She turns and kisses Madame Dor. Enter Yoigt rapidly from back, l., and speaks to Bintrey — they appear excited. Voiyt [Aside to him.] Hush! a terrible thing has just happened Obenreizer! [Vendale leaves Marguerute with Madame Dor and crosses to Bintrey and Yoigt. Ven [In same tone.] Obenreizer ! What of him ! Voiyt He is dead ! Bint and Ven Dead ! Voigt Yes. Just outside the village, near the cross-roaas, a mass of snow, loosened by the sun, fell upon and crushed him. They are bringing his body this way. Bint Bless me ! what fatality ! Ven Ah, she must not see it ! [Ms he crosses to l., to Marguerite, the bells begin to peal.] My marriage bells toll his funeral knell. Mar Why do we wait ? Ven Don’t go yet, darling ? Mar Why ? Ven Do not ask me. Will you do me a favor ? Mar Gladly. What is it ? Ven With my arms encircling you thus, and your head resting on my heart, tell me once more that you love me ? Mar I love you ! As she says this, the bells peal louder . The two Porters , aided by two Guides , are seen to bear from l. at back , across the stage , Obenreizer’s body, with a cloak thrown over it, on a bier. The peasants uncover. PICTURE. First Guide. Second Guide. Obenreizer’s Body. First Porter. Second Porter. Peasants. Madame Dor, Peasants. Peasants. Bridesmaids, Joey. Bintrey. Marguerite. Yoigt. "Yendale. 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