Virginia. Room in a farm-house. Door in flat_ L., _open; window in
flat_ R., _open. Landscape behind, moonlight if possible. Set the
"moon"_ L., _so the light will fall through the door and window.
Writing-desk or table, against_ R. _side; writing-materials, a
candle to light, a pile of letters and papers, upon it. Chair in
front of this. Give the scene a military character by placing a
stack of arms in_ L. _corner back, a pile of knapsacks in_ R.
_corner with an American flag thrown over it; hang up a drum
between the door and window_. ROBERT _discovered, with musket, on
guard outside the door; passes door and window twice. A "distant"
fife plays, "The Girl I left behind me," through: as it ceases_,
ROB _should be at door; he leans against the doorway_ L.
_Rob._ The boys are making merry to-night around the camp-fire;
but that lively air brings only sadness to me. "The girl I left behind
me," two years ago, in Grainlow, Gaylie Gifford, is still silent. Not a
line in reply to my frequent letters. Has she repented of her choice?
No, I cannot believe that; for my sister writes me she often speaks of
me, longs for my return. But yet she never writes. Perhaps she has
never received mine; 'tis hardly possible, and yet her silence—Can my
enemy, the colonel, be conspiring to keep us apart? He is base enough
to use any means to serve his purpose. By his orders, the mail is
brought here, and inspected by him, before delivery; perhaps, that he
may intercept any letters for me. If I could only get a single line
from her, I would be content. Oh! I am ground down worse than any slave
that tills the earth beneath the overseer's lash. Two years of service,
and still a private! I know I have been honorably mentioned many times
by my captain; and yet poorer men step above me: and I toil on, fight
on, with no hope of promotion. Well, they shall not say I have not done
my duty. Will the end never come, and free me from this bondage, give
me liberty to turn my steps northward, to seek the star of promise that
gleams in Gaylie's eyes? Halt! Who goes there?
_Crimp_ (_comes from_ L., _passes the window, and appears at door
speaking_). D-d-d-on't shoot! d-d-d-on't shoot! I's only a poor old
darky, Massa Sentenull.
_Rob._ Your business here?
_Crimp._ Pressing b-b-business; d-d-d-on't shoot! Want to see de
colonel.
_Rob._ The colonel is absent.
_Crimp._ Den I'll walk into de parlor, take a cheer, and wait for
um. D-d-d-on't shoot!
_Rob._ Business. Your pass, uncle.
_Crimp._ Pass: yes, massa, got a pass. Here she am! (_Searches
pocket._) Golly! it am gone. No, here she am! (_Searches bosom._) Not a
pass; had um, sure; hope I may die—
_Rob._ What's that sticking out of your hat?
_Crimp._ Golly, dat's so! (_Takes off hat, paper sticking out of
crown_). Put um up dar to keep um safe. (_Hands pass._)
_Rob_ (_examines paper_). The pass is right: pass in. (_Resumes
march._)
_Crimp._ Tole you so. Dar aint no inception about dis chile: he's
de sole ob honor. (_Comes down._) Now, w-w-what's a-gon to be did?
Missy Cap'n sends me away down here, in dis yer benighted regium, to
bring a letter to Massa Rob. Tote about forty mile afore I find him,
and den he's on guard. 'Twon't do to gib him de letter now: these sojer
fellars so stiff onto de tictacs, dat if I was to gib him de letter,
jes as likely to put de bagonet into me, or blow my head off, as not.
No, sar: Crimp don't take no risks in dis yer camplain; no, sar, I'm
obleeged to you. I'll wait till he's reliebed. Missy Cap'n say, gib 'im
de letter, and den lay round, and see what de colonel was about. I'll
hab a smoke (_takes out pipe, lights it_), an' I'll lay round. (_Takes
the American flag, and wraps it round him._) Glory, hallelujah! dat's
de warmest cobering dat eber a darkey got into. Yaas indeed. It am de
protector ob virtue. Dat's me. (_Takes a knapsack for a pillow._) I'l
jles hab a snooze into de corner, till Massa Rob is reliebed. (_Lies
down._) Hi! das a heap ob comfort in de arms ob Morphine. (_Smokes._)
'Spect Missy Gaylie tink a heap ob dat ar Massa Rob. Oh, lub, lub! when
you got into dat Miss Gaylie's heart, you jist found de warmest place
in de whole world. Yaas, indeed! (_Drops pipe._) Dar going to be some
fun, down dar in Grainlow. By golly! de Home Guard am gwine to commence
operations. Now, Massa Colonel, mind your eye; for de Home Guard am
onto de war-path.
_Rob._ Halt! Who goes there? (LIEUT.-COL. BOXER _enters_ L.,
_passes the window to door_. ROB _salutes_. BOXER _enters_.)
_Boxer._ The colonel away still? Hallo! (_Snuffs the air._)
Tobacco, and pipe-tobacco too! Smoking in my quarters! Bah! who is it?
I won't have it. If there's any thing I detest, it's smoking; under my
very nose too. Here, sentinel! (ROB _steps inside door_.) Have you been
smoking?
_Rob._ I never smoke, sir.
_Boxer._ Right: it's a filthy habit. But somebody's been here with
a pipe. Now, mind, no more of it. Let no smokers pass that door. 'Tis a
strict order which must be obeyed. That's all. (ROB _salutes, and
retires_.) Plague take the fellow, whoever he is! The smoke of battle
is inspiring; gunpowder is soothing to the nerves; but tobacco-smoke,
bah! it makes me sick.
[_Exit_ L.
_Crimp_ (_raising his head_). By golly! dat ar hossifer am riled.
Don't like smoke. He's proficient in a liberal heducation, he am.
(_Drops head._ GEN. GRANT _appears_ L., _slowly passes window, and
crosses to door, is stopped by_ ROB.)
_Rob._ Halt!
_Grant._ I have business with the colonel.
_Rob._ The colonel is absent.
_Grant._ Then I will await his return.
_Rob._ Halt! I have my orders. No smokers can enter here. If you
would pass, put out that cigar.
_Grant._ Indeed! Your orders are strict. (_Looks at_ ROB _keenly,
then throws away cigar, and enters_. BOXER _enters_ L., _meeting him_.)
Good-evening, colonel.
_Boxer_ (_saluting_). Good-evening, general. You have surprised
our post. The colonel is absent. Can I be of service?
_Grant_ (_sitting in chair, and tilting back against table_).
Your sentinel ordered me to throw away my cigar.
_Boxer._ He did? confound him! Here, sentinel! (ROB _steps inside
door_.) Do you know what you have done?
_Rob._ Obeyed orders, colonel.
_Grant._ Do you know me, sentinel?
_Rob_ (_saluting_). I do, general.
_Boxer._ And didn't you know better—
_Grant._ One moment, colonel. Sentinel, you are the first man that
ever dared put out my cigar. You did perfectly right: orders must be
obeyed. Your name.
_Rob._ Robert Trueworth.
_Grant._ How long have you been in service?
_Rob._ Two years.
_Grant._ That's all. (_Waves his hand._ ROB _salutes and
retires_.) Colonel, your orders are too strict. I cannot talk without a
cigar.
_Boxer._ Sorry I have not one to offer you, for I do like to see a
man enjoy himself. My orders could not apply to you, general.
_Grant._ Thank you; having permission, I can find the cigar.
(_Takes out cigar, and lights it._) I always go armed. That man at the
door,—what is his record?
_Boxer._ Excellent: every inch a soldier; the bravest of the
brave.
_Grant._ Two years of service, and still a private?
_Boxer._ Yes, general; although he has been honorably mentioned.
(_Coughs._) (_Aside._) Confound his nasty cigar! (_Aloud._) There's not
the best of feeling towards him on the part of our colonel. A brave
soldier, general, but queer. It seems they quarrelled before entering
service. (_Coughs._) (_Aside._) Oh, I shall choke! (_Aloud._) A
love-affair, I believe. The private won the girl, and so he's not
pushed.
_Grant._ Indeed! the colonel brings his private piques into the
battle-field. I rather like this boy. (_Looks round._) Can't we get out
of earshot?
_Boxer._ Certainly; in my room. (_Crosses stage, and then opens
door_ L.) Walk in, general. (GRANT _rises, and crosses stage_.) We
shall be secure from interruption here.
_Grant._ No: it's pleasant outside; let's walk awhile. (_Passes
out door off_ L., _smoking_.)
_Boxer._ Bah! I foresee a smoky campaign here. (_Following him._)
_Crimp_ (_raising his head_). By golly! dat ar fellar's a high
buck. Ain't dey nebber gwine to reliebe dat guard? (COL. ROWELL
_appears_ R., _passes window to door_. ROB _salutes, he enters_. CRIMP
_drops his head_.)
_Rowell._ That fellow's on guard to-night. How I hate him! Rebel
bullets come fast and thick, but they never reach him. Pity! I should
lose a good soldier, no doubt; but I could spare him. (_Goes to table,
and lights candle._) Here's the mail for my inspection; let me see if
there's any thing contraband. (_Examines letters._) "Robert Trueworth."
His sister's handwriting; that shall go through. "Robert Trueworth."
Gaylie's hand; detained for the present. (_Places it in his bosom._
ROBERT _is at the window outside, watching him_.) I have managed to
keep many sweet morsels from his parched lips. Not a letter of hers
shall ever reach him while I have the power to prevent. My guardianship
has expired: she has come to her fortune, and yet she loves this man.
Not a thought of me; and I love her madly. Ah! what's this? (_Takes
letter._) For me, and—Gaylie's hand! (_Tears it open._) So, so; at last
she thinks of me. (_Reads._) "Dear Colonel: Pardon my long silence. I
have not forgotten you. A business matter which I feel it impossible to
adjust makes me bold to ask your assistance. Come to Grainlow at once.
I have repented of my rudeness to you, long to see you. If you can
obtain a furlough, come; if you cannot, I think I could repay you for
the loss of your commission should you feel inclined to resign. Believe
me, I am not ungrateful for your former kindness, and earnestly entreat
you to return. You shall be made happy here if 'tis in my power.
Gaylie." So, so; the wind has changed. There is only one construction
to be placed upon that letter. She has repented of her folly, and I can
win her. (_Soldier enters_ R., _and relieves guard_.) What's that? Ah!
relieving guard; I'm glad of that: I cannot bear to have that fellow
near me. (ROB _is about to pass off; stands irresolute a moment, then
steps inside door. The colonel is again busy with his letters._)
_Crimp_ (_aside_). Golly! de guard am reliebed.
_Rob_ (_removes hat_). Your pardon, colonel. Can I speak with
you? (_Comes down_ L.)
_Rowell_ (_turns round_). Eh? oh, Private Trueworth! Certainly, if
it is important.
_Rob._ You have the mail. Are there letters there for me?
_Rowell._ If there are any, they will be forwarded to your company
quarters. (ROB _is about to turn away_.) Stay! here is one. (_Hands
letter._ ROB _takes it eagerly, looks at it, and sighs_.)
_Rob._ Are there no more?
_Rowell_ (_sneeringly_). No. _She_ does not seem inclined to
write.
_Rob._ I think _she_ has written, not once, but many times.
_Rowell._ Indeed! 'Tis strange you should never have received them,
for our mails come very regular.
_Rob._ Not so very strange, colonel. We are in an enemy's
country. Craft and deceit are all about us, even in our own ranks. I
suspect an enemy has intercepted my letters. I suspect you, colonel.
_Rowell_ (_rising_). Do you dare, Robert Trueworth? Remember who I
am,—one high in authority, your superior. You are but a private
soldier. There is no love between us. Be warned in time.
_Rob._ Yes, I do remember; but I do not fear you. You have used
your power to degrade me, by keeping me in the ranks, when I have _won_
a higher place. I have not murmured. But when you step between me and
the girl I love, the girl I have won, mark me, colonel, _won_ in spite
of you, you are no longer my superior: you are a base and treacherous
spy.
_Rowell_ (_furious_). Robert Trueworth, you lie! you have not won
her.
_Crimp_ (_rises to a stooping position, throws off flag_). By
golly! dere's gwine to be a fight here. Wish Massa Rob jes had dat
letter. (_Creeps round to_ L. _on "all fours" while the others are
speaking_.)
_Rob._ In the sight of Heaven she is mine. We have exchanged
vows; and, as I am true, I believe she is true. O man, man! have you no
honor? Your strategy is unworthy a soldier of the Union. (GRANT _and_
BOXER _cross stage_ L. _to_ R., _outside_.)
_Rowell._ I repeat, you have not won her. True, there was a foolish
plighting of vows; but one year ago, when, as her guardian, I met her
in Grainlow to surrender my trust, I found her changed. I felt she had
repented of her rashness: now I am sure of it. She no longer loves you.
_Rob._ I will believe that when I hear it from her lips. You
cannot shake my faith in her.
_Rowell_ (_handing open letter_). Then read that. I am recalled to
Grainlow.
_Rob_ (_takes letter, and looks at it, then at_ ROWELL, _then
at letter_). "Come to Grainlow: I have repented of my rudeness to
you—long to see you—earnestly entreat you to return—you shall be made
happy."—oh! what is this? (_Crushes letter in his hand._) She has
forgotten me, repents. Oh! would I were dead!
_Crimp_ (_aside_). Yaas, Guess not. What a muss! If he only had
dat ar letter! (_Creeps nearer._)
_Rowell._ There is only one construction to be placed upon that.
'Tis I who am the favored suitor. (GRANT _and_ BOXER _saunter across
stage outside from_ R. _to_ L. GRANT _appears at window, leans on the
casing, and watches the scene, smoking_; BOXER _with him_.)
_Rob._ 'Tis false! more of your treachery. She would never have
rejected me without a word, a sign.
_Rowell._ Still incredulous; poor fool! To your quarters! Another
word to your superior, and you are under arrest. I have waited my time;
and now Gaylie Gifford and her fortune shall be mine, in spite of
trusting love and plighted vows. Away! (_Goes to_ R.)
_Rob._ No: I will not stir. I know you have intercepted my
letters; I know you have one in your bosom now; I saw you from my post
secrete it; I saw the direction upon it; and by this (_showing letter_)
I recognize the hand. 'Tis my property, and I claim it. Give it to me;
or forgetting all distinctions, remembering only I am a man persecuted
and wronged, I'll tear it from you.
_Rowell_ (_taking pistol from his bosom_). Approach me but a step,
and I'll have your life! I should be justified, for this is mutiny.
_Rob._ No, this is justice. I claim my rights. Give me the
letter. (_Approaches._)
_Rowell._ Take that instead! (_Raises arm._)
_Crimp_ (_running between, and throwing up his arm_). D-d-d-don't
shoot! (_Pistol discharged._) W-w-what you 'bout? w-want to blow dis
yer darky's head off?
_Rowell_ (_runs to door_). Guard, guard! Quick, quick! (_Guard has
passed out of sight_, L.)
_Crimp_ (_running to_ ROB, _and falling on his knees at his
side_, L.; _speaks quick_). Massa Rob, you's made a fo-fo ob yourself.
Here's de letter right straight from Miss Gaylie. (_Passes letter into
his hand._)
_Rob._ Who are you?
_Crimp._ Done ye know me? I'se Crimp ob de Home-Guard. (ROWELL
_returns; guard enters door: should all be done quick_.)
_Rowell_ (_to guard_). Arrest that man. To the guard-house with
him!
_Rob_ (_presses_ GAYLIE'S _letter to his lips_). At last, at
last! (_To_ ROWELL.) Ay! to the guard-house let it be. She has
outwitted you. Here's a letter from her own dear hand.
_Rowell._ Ah! who has done this? Away with him! (_Guard places his
hand on his shoulder._) To the guard-house. (_Enter_ GRANT _door in_
F., _writing on tablet in his hand_.)
_Grant._ Right. To the guard-house: orders must be obeyed. (_To_
ROB.) If it comes to a trial, you may want a friend. (_Gives paper._)
Count on me.
_Rowell_ (R.). And who are you?
_Grant_ (_takes off hat_). Your superior, sir.
_Rowell_ (_confused_). Gen. Grant? (_Salutes._)
_Crimp._ By golly! it's de ole smoke-jack. Hi! whose pipe's out
now?
_Tableau._ GEN. GRANT C. BOXER _at door_. ROWELL R., _saluting but
confused_. ROB L. C., _saluting. Guard with his hand on his shoulder._
CRIMP _on his knees_ L., _squeezing himself, and laughing internally,
with a show of white eyeballs and grinning teeth. Slow curtain._