_Exterior of_ MAYNARD'S _farm-house. House on_ R. _with
porch covered with vines; fence running across stage at
back, with gateway_ C., _backed by road and landscape_. L.
C., _large tree, with bench running round its trunk; trees_
L. _Time, sunset. Enter_ TOM _from_ L., _through gate, a
bunch of flowers in his hand_.
TOM. The same old errand: chasing that will-o'-wisp, Kitty Corum,--she
who is known as the girl with two strings to her bow; who has one
hand for Tom Larcom and another for Nat Harlow, and no heart for
either. I'm the laughing-stock of the whole neighborhood; but misery
loves company, and Nat is in the same box. If she would only say No,
and have done with it, I believe I should be happy, especially if
Nat received the "No." She won't let either of us go. But she must.
To-night I'll speak for the last time; I'll pop. If she takes me,
well: if not, I'll pop off and leave the field to Nat. Luckily I found
out she was to help Mrs. Maynard to-day. Nat hasn't heard of it, and
no doubt he's trudging off to old Corum's. Here she comes. Lay there,
you beauties! (_Puts flowers on bench._) Kitty will know what that
means. (_Exit_ L. _Enter_ KITTY _from house_.)
KITTY. What a nice woman Mrs. Charity Goodall is, to be sure! so
graceful and sweet, not a bit like her big rough brother, John
Maynard. But then, she's learned the city ways. A widow, poor
thing--and not so poor, either; for her husband, when he died, left
her a consolation in the shape of a very handsome fortune. (_Sees
flowers._) I declare, somebody's attentions are really overpowering.
No matter where I am, either at home or abroad, when night comes I
always find a bunch of flowers placed in my way. Of course these
are for me: no one would think of offering flowers to Jessie. Poor
Jessie! 'tis eighteen months since Harry Maynard left home, and six
months since a line has been received from him. Ah, well! this comes
of having but one string to your bow. I manage matters differently.
(_Sits on bench. Enter_ NAT _from_ L., _through gate; steps behind
tree_.) Now, I really would like to know who is so attentive, so
loving, as to send me these pretty flowers.
NAT (_sticks his head round tree_, R.). And can't you guess, Kitty?
KITTY (_starting_). O Nat!
TOM (_sticks his head out from_ L. _Aside._) O Nat! indeed, you owe
Nat nothing for flowers. The mean sneak! (_Retires._)
NAT (_coming forward_). Now, this is what I call luck, Kitty. I heard
you were here, and I think I've taken the wind out of Tom Larcom's
sails to-night. No doubt he's tramping off to your house to find
nobody at home. Ha, ha! had him there. (TOM _creeps out, and gets
behind tree_.)
KITTY. And so I am indebted to you for all these pretty flowers.
NAT. Oh! never mind the posies, Kitty. I have something very serious
to say to you to-night. (_Sits beside her_ R.)
KITTY. Very, very serious, Nat?
NAT. As serious, Kitty, as though I were a prisoner at the bar waiting
my sentence.
TOM. Ah! in that case, there should be a full bench, Kitty. (_Comes
round and sits on bench_, L.)
NAT. The deuce! Tom Larcom, what brought you here?
TOM. I came to court; that is, to see justice done you.
NAT. You be hanged!
TOM. Thank you: let that be your fate; and I'll be transported. (_Puts
his arm round_ KITTY'S _neck_.)
KITTY. How dare you, Tom Larcom? (_Pushes off his arm._)
TOM. It's "neck or nothing" with me to-night, Kitty.
NAT. Tom, you are taking unfair advantage of me.
TOM. Am I? How about Kitty's posies, Nat, that I laid upon the bench?
KITTY. It's you, then, Tom.--O Nat! how could you?
NAT. I didn't: I only asked you a conundrum. All's fair in love.
What's a few flowers, any way? Why, Kitty, smile upon me, and you
shall have a garden.
TOM. Yes, a kitchen garden, with you as the central figure,--a
cabbage-head.
NAT. Kitty, you must listen to me. I have a serious question to ask
you.
TOM. So have I, Kitty.
KITTY. You too, Tom? A pair of serious questions! Shall I get out my
handkerchief?
NAT. Kitty, I have sought you for the last time.
TOM. Thank Heaven!
NAT. Perhaps--
TOM. O, Kitty, give him your blessing, and let him depart!
NAT. I am on the point of leaving--
TOM. Good-by, old fellow. You have our fondest wishes where'er you go.
"'Tis absence makes the heart grow fonder"--
NAT.--Of leaving my fate in your hands.
TOM. Oh, this is touching!
NAT. 'Tis now two years since I commenced paying attention to you.
KITTY. Stop, Nat. This is a serious business: let us be exact,--one
year and ten months.
TOM. Correct. I remember it from the circumstance that I had, about a
month before, singled you out as the object of my adoration.
NAT. "We met by chance."
TOM. "The usual way." Oh come, Nat, do be original!
NAT. I worshipped the very ground you trod on--
TOM. And I the shoes you trod in: that's one step higher.
NAT. From that time--
KITTY. One year and ten months.
NAT. From that time I have loved you sincerely, devotedly, and--
TOM. _Etcettery._ Same here, Kitty, with a dictionary thrown in.
NAT. You have become very, very dear to me, Kitty.
TOM. You are enshrined in this bosom, Kitty.
NAT. Without you, my life would be miserable--a desert.
TOM. And mine without you, Kitty, a Saharah.
NAT. I have waited long to gain your serious attention, to ask you to
be my wife. Now is the appointed time.
TOM (_takes out watch_). Fifteen minutes after seven: the very time I
appointed.
NAT. Let me hear my sentence.
TOM. Put me out of misery.
KITTY. This is indeed serious. Am I to understand that you have both
reached that point in courtship when a final answer is required?
NAT. That's exactly the point I have reached.
TOM. It's "going, going, gone" with me.
KITTY. You will both consider my answer final?
BOTH. We will.
KITTY. No quarrelling, no teasing, no appeal?
NAT. None. (_Aside._) I'm sure of her.
TOM. Never. (_Aside._) Nat's sacked, certain.
KITTY. Very well. Your attentions, Mr. Harlow, have been very
flattering,--your presents handsome.
NAT. Well, I'm not a bad-looking--
KITTY. I mean the presents you have bestowed upon me,--calicoes of
the latest patterns, sweetmeats in great varieties, which you, as a
shopkeeper, have presented me with.
TOM (_aside_). At old Gleason's expense.
KITTY. Of course I value them. But a girl wants the man she loves to
be a hero: to plunge into rivers to rescue drowning men, and all that
sort of thing.
TOM (_aside_). And Nat can't swim. That's hard on him.
KITTY. And you, Mr. Larcom, have been equally attentive. Your
gifts--the choicest fruits of your orchard, the beautiful flowers
nightly laid within my reach--all have a touching significance. Still,
as I said, a girl looks for something higher in the man she loves. He
must be bold--
NAT (_aside_). Tom's afraid of his own shadow. He's mittened.
KITTY. Rush into burning houses, stop runaway horses, rescue
distressed females; and I am very much afraid neither of my devoted
admirers can claim the title of hero. So, gentlemen, with many thanks
for your attentions, I say No.
NAT. No! That is for Tom.
TOM. No! You mean Nat.
KITTY. I mean both. (NAT _and_ TOM _look at her, then at each other,
then both rise and come front_.)
NAT. Tom.
TOM. Nat.
NAT. You've got the sack.
TOM. You've got the mitten.
NAT. She's a flirt.
TOM. A coquette.
NAT. I shall never speak to her again.
TOM. Henceforth she and I are strangers. (_They shake hands, then turn
and go up to her._)
BOTH. Kitty!
KITTY. Remember, no appeal. (_They look at her ruefully, then come
down._)
NAT. Tom, I bear you no ill-will. Are you going my way?
TOM. Nat, you are the best fellow in the world. I'm going in to see
John Maynard.
NAT. We shall be friends.
TOM. In despair, yes. (_They shake hands._ NAT _goes up to gate_, TOM
_goes to door_ R.)
NAT. Good-by, Kitty. I shall never see you again. I'm going across the
river. Should any accident happen, look kindly upon my remains. (_Goes
off_ L.)
TOM. Good-by, Kitty. I'm going in to borrow one of John Maynard's
razors; they are very sharp. Should I happen to cut any thing, don't
trouble yourself to call the doctor. (_Exit into house._)
KITTY. Ha, ha, ha! They'll never trouble me, never. They'll be back
before I can count ten. One, two, three, four, five--(NAT _appears_
L., _comes to gate_. TOM _comes from house: they see each other, turn
and run back_.) I knew it. The silly noodles! here they are again.
(_Enter_ JESSIE, _from house_.) Didn't I tell you my answer was final?
and here you are again.
JESSIE. Why, Kitty, are you dreaming?
KITTY (_jumping up_). Bless me, Jessie, is that you?
JESSIE. Have you seen Stub? has he returned from the office? Ah! here
he is. (_Enter_ STUB, L., _through gate, dejectedly_. JESSIE _runs up
to him_.) O Stub, have you brought no letter?
STUB. Jes none at all, Miss Jessie; dat ar' post-officer am jes got no
heart. I begged an' begged: no use. Squire Johnson, he got his arms
full, an' Miss Summer's a dozen. I tried to steal one, but he jes keep
his eye onto me all de time. No use, no use.
JESSIE. Oh! what can have become of him?
STUB. Dunno', Miss Jessie. He was jes de bes' feller, was Massa Harry;
an' now he's gone an' done somfin', I know he has. When de cap'n what
picked me up in ole Virginny, in de war,--when he was a-dying in de
horse-fiddle, says he to me, says he, Stub, I'm a-gwine; an' when
I's gone, you jes get up Norf. You'll find my brudder Harry up dar,
an' you jes stick as clus to him as you's stuck to me, an' you'll
find friends up dar. An' when it was all ober, here I come. An', Miss
Jessie, I lub Massa Harry almos' as much as I did de cap'n; an' I'd do
any ting for him an' you, who he lub so dearly.
JESSIE. I know you would, Stub. Heaven only knows when he will return
to us. If he comes not soon, my heart will break. (_Weeps; goes and
sits on bench._)
STUB. Pore little lamb! She wants a letter: she shall hab one too.
Massa Harry won't write: den, by golly, I'll jes make up a special
mail-train, an' go down dere to de city, an' fotch one. It's jes easy
'nuff to slip down dere, an' hunt Massa Harry up, an' I'll do it. Say
nuffin' to nobody, but slip off to-morrow mornin' an' hunt him up.
(_Exit_ R., I.E.)
KITTY (_comes down from gate_). Jessie, here's a surprise. Mr.
Thornton is coming up the road.
JESSIE (_springing up_). Mr. Thornton? Heaven be praised! News of
Harry at last! (_Runs up to gate, meets_ MR. THORNTON, _takes his
hand; they come down_.) O Mr. Thornton! Harry, what of Harry?
THORNTON. Miss Jessie, I am the bearer of bad tidings. Would it were
otherwise!
JESSIE. Is he dead? Speak: let me know the worst; I can bear it.
THORNTON. Be quiet, my child. He is not dead; better if he were, for
death covers all the evils of a life,--death wipes out all disgrace.
JESSIE. Disgrace? Oh, speak, Mr. Thornton! why is he silent? what
misfortune has befallen him?
THORNTON. The worst, Jessie. Perhaps I should hide his wretched story
from you; but I'm here to tell it to his friends, and you are the
dearest, the one who trusted him as none other can. Jessie, the man
you loved has been false to you, to all. He has abused the trust I
placed in him. He has become a spendthrift, a libertine, a gambler,
and a drunkard.
JESSIE. I will not believe it: 'tis false. Harry Maynard is too noble.
Mr. Thornton, you have been misled, or you are not his friend.
THORNTON. I was his friend till he betrayed and robbed me. I am his
friend no longer. Jessie, you must forget him; he will never return to
his old home, his first love. He has broken away from my influence: he
associates with the vilest of the vile, and glories in his shame.
JESSIE. Stop, stop! I cannot bear it.
THORNTON. Jessie, you know not how it pains me to tell you this; but
'tis better you know the worst. I have striven hard to make his path
smooth,--to make his way to fortune easy, for your sake, Jessie. For
I,--yes, Jessie, even in this dark hour I must say it,--I love you, as
he never could love.
JESSIE. You--love--me? You! Oh! this is blasphemy at such a time.
THORNTON. I could not help it, Jessie. (_Tries to take her hand._)
JESSIE. Do not touch me. I shall hate you. Leave me. O Harry, Harry!
are you lost to me forever? (_Staggers up and sits on bench._)
THORNTON (_aside_). I've broken the ice there. Rather rough; but
she'll get over it. Now for old Maynard. I'd sooner face a regiment;
but it must be done. (_Exit into house._)
KITTY (_comes down to_ JESSIE). O Jessie, this is terrible!
JESSIE. Don't speak to me, Kitty: leave me to myself. I know you mean
well, but the sound of your voice is terrible to me.
KITTY (_comes down_). Poor thing! Who would have believed that Harry
Maynard could turn out bad? I wish I could do something to help her.
I can, and I will too. Oh, here's Tom! (_Enter_ TOM _from house;
sees_ KITTY, _stops, then sticks his hat on one side; crosses to_ L.
_whistling_.)
KITTY. Tom!
TOM (_turns_). Eh! did you speak, Miss Corum?
KITTY. Yes, I did. Come here--quick--why don't you pay attention?
TOM. Didn't you forbid any further attention?
KITTY. Pshaw! no more of that! Do you remember what I told you my
husband must be?
TOM. Yes: a sort of salamander to rush into burning houses, an
amphibious animal to save people from drowning.
KITTY. Ahem! Tom, to save people: just so. Well, Tom, you can be that
hero, if you choose.
TOM. Me? How, pray?
KITTY. Harry Maynard has got into trouble in the city; he's a drunkard
and a gambler, and every thing that is bad.
TOM. You don't mean it!
KITTY. It's true. Now, he must be saved, brought back here, or Jessie
will die. Tom, go and find him, and when you come back, I'll sacrifice
myself.
TOM. Sacrifice yourself?
KITTY. Yes, marry you.
TOM. You will consider him found. O Kitty, Kitty,--but hold on a
minute. Have you given Nat Harlow a chance to be a hero?
KITTY. No, Tom: I'm serious now. Find Harry Maynard, and you shall be
my hero.
TOM. Hooray, Kitty: tell me all about it. I'll be off by the next
train. Come (_gives her his arm_), I can't keep still: I must keep
moving. (_Exeunt_ L.)
JESSIE. Lost! lost to me, and I loving him so dearly! You must forget
him! He said forget: it is impossible. He loved me so dearly, too,
before he left this house in search of fortune. No, no: I will not
give him up; there must be some way to save him. If I only knew how!
O Harry, Harry! why do you wander from the hearts that love you? Come
back, come back! (_Covers her face and weeps. Enter_ CHARITY GOODALL
_from_ R., _through gate_.)
CHARITY. Oh, this is delicious! I've climbed fences, torn my way
through bushes, and had the most delightful frolic with Farmer Chips's
little Chips on the hay, with nobody to check my fun and remind me
of the proprieties of life. Ha, ha, ha! How my rich neighbor, Mrs.
Goldfinch, would stare to see me enjoying myself in the country!
Little I care! I shall go back with a new lease of life, a harvest
of fresh country air, that will last me through the winter. (_Sees_
JESSIE.) Hey-day, child, what's the matter? (_Sits beside her._)
JESSIE (_flinging her arms round_ CHARITY'S _neck_). O Aunt Charity!
Harry, Harry--
CHARITY. Ah! the truant's heard from at last; and not the most
delightful tidings, judging by your tear-stained cheeks. Well, child,
tell me all about it.
JESSIE. He's lost to us. He has fallen into temptation; he's--
CHARITY. The old story. "A certain man went down unto Jericho, and
fell among thieves."
JESSIE. O Aunt Charity, how can you be so heartless!
CHARITY. Heartless, Jessie! You must not say that. You know not my
story. Listen to me. One I loved dearer than life was ingulfed in this
whirlpool. He was a brave, noble fellow, who took a poor country girl
from her home, and made her the mistress of a mansion, rich in comfort
and luxury. For years our life was one of happiness; and then a
friend, a false friend, Jessie, led him into temptation, with the base
hope of securing his riches by his ruin. The friend failed to acquire
the one, but wrought the other. He died ere he had become the wretched
sot he hoped to make him; died in my arms, loving and repentant. I
had his fortune, but my life was blighted. I refused to be comforted
until the wretchedness about me brought me to my senses. Then I sought
in work, strong, earnest work, consolation for my bereavement. With
his wealth, I sought out the wretched, the outcasts of society; gave
my aid to all good work, and so earned the title of a strong-minded
woman. 'Tis often spoken with a sneer, that title, Jessie; but they
who bear it have the world's good in their heart, thank Heaven for
them all! And so I go about doing all I can to relieve distress, the
surest solace for sorrow, Jessie; for there's nothing so cheering,
as relieving the wretchedness of others. So don't call me heartless,
Jessie.
JESSIE. O Aunt Charity, he was so good! he loved me so dearly!
CHARITY. And he has fallen. Who told you this?
JESSIE. His friend Mr. Thornton: he is here now, speaking with father.
O dear aunt! can nothing be done to save him?
CHARITY. Thornton? What Thornton? Speak, Jessie, who is he?
JESSIE. Here comes Mr. Thornton. I will not see him. He has spoken to
me of love,--his love for me, almost in the same breath in which he
told of Harry's ruin. Oh, let me go! I can not, will not meet him.
(_Runs off_ L.)
CHARITY. So, so: the friend of Harry makes love to his wife that is
to be, and his name is Thornton. I am curious to see this _friend_.
(_Enter_ THORNTON _from house_.)
THORNTON. That job's over. Now for Miss Jessie. (CHARITY _rises_.)
Charity Goodall!
CHARITY. Yes, Charity Goodall, widow of Mark Goodall, your friend,
Robert Thornton.
THORNTON (_aside_). What fiend sent her here to blast my well-laid
plans?
(CAPT. BRAGG _appears_ R., _and leans on the fence. He is a
little tipsy. No Toodles business_).
CHARITY. So, sir, you are the friend of my nephew, Harry Maynard? here
on a mission of mercy, to break gently to his sorrowing friends the
news of his downfall?
THORNTON. 'Tis true.
CHARITY. And to console his affianced wife with the proffer of your
affection.
THORNTON. 'Tis false!
CHARITY. It is the truth. I know you, Robert Thornton. Your work made
my life a burden. You robbed me of one I loved; and now you have wound
your coils about another victim.
THORNTON. You are mistaken: I sought to keep him from temptation; but
he was reckless, and forsook me.
CHARITY. Where is he now?
THORNTON. I know not; neither do I care. He robbed me; and, were he
found, I should give him up to justice.
CHARITY. Staunch friend indeed! He robbed you? I do not believe it.
I have cause to mistrust you. I never dreamed you were the friend of
Harry. But now I can see your wicked scheme. You have him in your
power, but beware! My mission is to save. (_Goes up_ R.)
THORNTON (_coming to_ L.). Too late, too late. I do not fear you.
MAYNARD (_outside_, R.). Say no more: I will not seek him. (_Enter
from house, followed by_ MRS. MAYNARD.)
MRS. MAYNARD. O John, don't say that! He is our only boy.
MAYNARD. He has disgraced the name of Maynard. I will not seek, I will
never allow him to cross my threshold. He went out a man: he shall
never return a brute. (_Enter_ CAPT. BRAGG, R., _through gate_.)
CAPT. Now, done yer say that, Maynard (hic). It's disgrace-ful to
drink. I mean to get full. I never got full. I can drink a gallon,
an' walk straight, I can (hic). But I'm a Bragg. I'm Cap'en Bragg of
the Horse Marines; no, the ill-ill-lus'rus Lawless Rangers, every
man--full--full--six-- Now look a' here, look a' me, if your son's
gone to the dogs, don't you give him up. Look a' me. I'm Bragg. I had
a son: you know him: went off twenty years ago. Do I give him up? Not
a bit of it (hic). He'll come back one of these days, rolling in his
carriage; I mean in wealth. But then, he's a Bragg. We can't all be
Braggs. Come, le's go down, and hunt him up. I know all the places.
MAYNARD. Not a step will I stir. (_Enter_ JESSIE, L.) He has made his
bed: let him sleep in it. He shall not disgrace my house with his
presence.
JESSIE (_runs to him, falls on her knees_). No, no, father: don't say
that. You will not cast him off. Think what a kind son he was: how he
loved us all. You will try to save him, father! Don't say you will
not; my heart will break.
MAYNARD. Jessie, you know not how low he has fallen. My son of whom I
was so proud! He has disgraced his home. Henceforth he is no longer
son of mine. I will not seek him. I have said it, Jessie, and John
Maynard never breaks his word.
JESSIE (_crosses to_ MR. THORNTON). O Mr. Thornton! you will seek him:
you will save him for my sake?
THORNTON. He is past redemption. 'Twere useless.
JESSIE. Then I will go in search of him.
MAYNARD. You, Jessie?
JESSIE. Yes, I. He saved me, when a babe, from the pitiless storm; now
I will seek him.
THORNTON. This is folly. He lurks with the vile and worthless, in dens
of filth and vice. Who will lead you there?
CHARITY (_comes down_ C.). I will.
JESSIE (_rises and runs into her arms_). O Aunt Charity!
CHARITY. Yes, I. When man shrinks from the work of salvation, let
woman take his place. Look up, child! Foul treachery has insnared
him. From the toils of the false friend, from the crafty arts of the
boldest of schemers, we will snatch him: from the depths of despair,
we will save him. Past redemption, Robert Thornton? False! While there
is life, there is hope!
(CHARITY _with her arms about_ JESSIE, C.; THORNTON, L.;
CAPT. BRAGG, L. C.; MAYNARD, R. C.; MRS. MAYNARD, R. TOM
_and_ KITTY _come on_ R., _and stand behind fence, looking
on, quietly_.)