ACT III.

_Scene as before. Fire burning in fireplace._ MAY _in armchair before fire, half turned toward audience, gazing into the fire. Light on her from fire._ BESS _at piano playing, “’Tis the last rose of summer.”_ MARCUS _has arm on piano, looking down at her. Study lamp lighted on table_, L. C. ROY _seated_ L. _of table reading paper. Curtains at windows down. Chair_ R. _of table, as music ceases:——_

MARCUS. Thank you, Bess. “’Tis the last rose of summer,” to-night we pluck: the last of our delightful courtship, to be replaced with orange blossoms, fit symbols of the fruits of happiness, we shall then garner for the future. Ah, Bess, what blissful days are in store for us.

ROY (_eyes on paper_). Poor devil.

MARCUS. Eh? Did you speak to me, Manning?

ROY. Not I. “One more unfortunate” here (_tapping paper_). Found dead in a doorway, with an empty bottle smelling strongly of “laudanum” beside him,——wrapped in an army overcoat. Ah, so they go. Fighting bravely the enemy of their country in war, overthrown by the enemy in peace.

MAY. Oh, Roy, could it have been——

ROY. No one we have an interest in, I hope, May.

MAY. I was thinking of——

ROY. One whose name is no more spoken here. I know to whom you allude, May. It was not him.

MAY. Then you have news?

ROY. I can give you no tidings of him. When three months ago I returned from my search, we agreed to forget him. Let us abide by our compact. It can be no pleasure to you: ’tis painful to me (_rises_). When a man forgets all the obligations of friendship, withholds confidence from his sworn comrade, and deliberately acts a lie, he no longer holds a place in honest hearts.

MAY. Oh, Roy, so bitter.

ROY (_crossing to her chair_). To you, May, I owe it all. You, with your clear, woman’s vision, pierced the mask and disclosed the deception (_bitterly_). I thank you. (_Goes up to window and looks out._)

MAY. Bitter, bitter. I have wounded his dear heart by my folly. Will he ever forgive me?

ROY (_comes down_). It’s a blustering night. (_Rests hand on back of_ MAY’S _chair._) That’s a glorious blaze, May. Pity I cannot stay and enjoy it.

MAY. Are you going out?

BESS. Not to-night, Roy?

MARCUS (_comes down to chair vacated by_ ROY, _and takes up paper_). “There’s no place like home,” Manning.

ROY. Right, Marcus: especially if it’s somebody’s else home, with a particular attraction in the shape of a pretty girl. Now, don’t press me to stay, for you know you and Bess are dying to be alone.

MARCUS. Gammon.

ROY. Rather say backgammon, for with two that makes home a _par-o-dice_. There’s but one will miss me.

MAY. Oh, Roy, must you go?

ROY. ’Tis Wednesday night: my evening out.

MAY. ’Tis Christmas eve, and to-morrow is——

ROY. The anniversary of our wedding, May. Did you think I had forgotten that?

MAY. No, not forgotten it, Roy, but on the eve of——

ROY. Such a glorious anniversary, you think I should remain at home. No, May, duty calls me,——a religious duty,——which I would not disregard even for the sake of your dear company.

MAY. Roy, you are withholding confidence from me. You will not tell me why you go, where you go? Is that right?

ROY (_laughing_). Ha! ha! ha! Inquisitive female. No, it’s all wrong; but that I may right it I go, and you may have the blaze all to yourself. Imagine yourself Cinderella among the embers, and wish the fairy godmother would drop down the chimney to keep you company. Now tell me what would be your first request?

MAY. That my husband would have no secrets I could not share.

ROY. That’s a very sensible request. What next?

MAY. That in our midst, home again, she would place the wanderer,——your comrade,——Matt Winsor.

ROY. May!

MAY. With all my heart I wish it, Roy. That man’s fate, the possibility of what he may have become, terrifies me. Think you I cannot feel how that wild act of mine has shadowed your existence. When he left, driven from your doors by me, something went out of our happy life, I would give the world to reclaim.

ROY. May, do you doubt my love for you?

MAY. No, no; not that Roy. Not one look of reproach: not one word, for what I have done, ever tender, thoughtful, patient. Oh, Roy, I do not deserve it. (_Covers face with hands._)

ROY. May, you shall know all (_walks to table_). No, no, the secret is not mine. I must be patient; she must suffer. (_Marcus looks up at him from paper_). Well, what’s the matter with you?

MARCUS. Manning, old fellow, I’m afraid you’re going over to the enemy. (BESS _comes down back of table._)

ROY. It’s about time, when the enemy——as you style her——is a sweet, little woman, stung with remorse, and the attacking forces men, strong men, who ought to be ashamed of themselves: I don’t like it.

MARCUS. Then strike your flag at once. There’s only one thing to prevent it.

ROY. What’s that?

MARCUS. Your promise.

BESS. What in the world are you talking about——you two?

ROY (_turning away_). Bah! that girl would break up a council of war, with her sharp ears and inquisitive tongue. (_Goes over to_ MAY’S _chair._ BESS _talks with Marcus in dumb show._) Look up, May. I must go; but this night shall be the last. Before you sleep you shall know all, and I will ask forgiveness for my cruelty. Come, get my coat: that’s a dear. Time flies. I must be off.

MAY (_rising._) You will return early?

ROY. As I always do. (_Exit_ MAY, _door_ L., ROY, _hand on back of armchair watches her off._) ’Tis a hard lesson, wife of mine, but through the tears, I see the smile, and behind the clouds, the sunlight, that shall bring lasting peace forevermore. Halloa, you two whispering? I don’t like that.

BESS. Third parties seldom do. I like it: that’s enough.

ROY. And so does Marcus. He looks as happy as though to-morrow were to be a holiday for him.

BESS. ’Twill be a holy day, for us.

ROY. You’re to be married, to-morrow: to be enslaved. Ah, what will become of you two?

BESS. We two will become one, that’s all.

MARCUS. Yes, the sum total of my bliss will be a unit.

ROY. How you _cypher_ that. Matrimonial figuring by addition makes two one, subtracts sweets from added blessings, and multiplies comforts by dividing labors. That’s the slate from which nothing can be wiped, but by fractures. Well bless you my children. I hope you will be as happy as May and I, and never quarrel.

BESS. And have no secrets——

ROY. Ahem! (_Aside._) From you, impossible.

BESS. And have no going out of nights. Hey, Marcus.

MARCUS. Most certainly not.

ROY. “Hark, from the _graves_ a doleful sound.” Charity calls me out.

BESS. Charity begins at home.

ROY. And ends there; but if it be true, it’s line of duty, between the beginning and the ending, describes a circle that, like the equator, embraces the whole world.

MARCUS. That’s very good, Manning.

BESS. But you’ve no right to break the home circle, and leave your poor wife here alone.

ROY. Alone? Nonsense! when she has you and Marcus to amuse her.

MARCUS. Oh, we’re going to have a game of billiards.

ROY. Billiards, a _cue_rious game for lovers. But there’s lots of “kisses” in it. Hey, Bess?

BESS. Oh, I could scratch you.

ROY. I’ll have a “run” before you do. Here’s May. (_Enter door_ L. _with_ ROY’S _coat and hat._) Thank you. (_Takes coat and puts it on._) You won’t be lonesome?

MAY. No, indeed.

ROY (_takes hat from her._) That’s right. Bess and Marcus are going to play billiards. You don’t play, you know; but you can count.

MARCUS. Yes; (_aside_) one too many.

BESS. Of course; (_aside_) and spoil the game.

ROY. I’ve been giving the young people a lesson on charity. Bess believes it begins at home, and now she has an excellent opportunity to prove her theory, by forgetting that “two is company, and three is none.” Good-bye. (_Kisses_ MAY, _and exits_ C. MAY _follows him to door._)

MAY (_turns back and stops_ C.). I shall know all to-night. He said it. I am content. I doubt not I shall laugh at my folly, when I know the truth: only a little shadow flung across the brightness of our home, so hard to bear? Heaven pity those to whom the sunlight never comes. (_Exit door_ L.)

BESS (_feebly_). May, May, you’re not going? (_Louder._) Why, Marcus, she didn’t hear me.

MARCUS. No wonder; the call was very faint. I’ll call her. (_Rises and goes to door_ L.)

BESS (_runs up and brings him down_ C.) No, no. I don’t think she cares for company.

MARCUS (_putting his arm around her waist_). I’m sure we do not, Bess.

BESS. Marcus, what do you suppose sent Roy out to-night?

MARCUS. Well, I think I could guess.

BESS. Oh, you could. Isn’t that splendid? Tell me, quick.

MARCUS. Ah! but it’s a secret.

BESS. Oh, dear! now you are beginning to be mysterious. Remember sir: we are to have no secrets.

MARCUS. Quite right; and as you are not to learn this, we shall have no secrets still——

BESS (_pouting_). Marcus, you’re as bad as Roy.

MARCUS. If I am no worse than that estimable man, then you will receive a treasure to-morrow.

BESS. Take care, sir: “there’s many a slip ’twixt the cup and the lip.”

MARCUS. Don’t be alarmed: you shall have the treasure, Bess. Never mind the cup; the lips will satisfy me (_kisses her_) now, and to-morrow my cup of happiness will be full.

BESS. Ah! but I may change my mind before to-morrow.

MARCUS. Twenty times, if you like? but to-morrow you will only change——your name.

BESS. And my dress. You haven’t asked me what I am to be married in.

MARCUS. I know,——in church.

BESS. Oh, provoking! have you no curiosity to know how your bride will look?

MARCUS. I know you will look lovely. Let others admire the setting, I shall have eyes only for the jewel. Come, a game of billiards. (_Goes to table._)

BESS. Shall I call May?

MARCUS. No, I’ll call Nancy (_strikes bell on table_) to light the billiard room. May will find us when she needs us. (_Enter_ NANCY, R. I. E.) Nancy, be kind enough to light the billiard room, will you?

NANCY. My gracious! you’re not going to play billiards, to-night?

BESS (R. C.). And why not, Nancy?

NANCY. And going to be married, to-morrow? (_Crosses stage to_ I. E. L.) Well, I never! Better be preparing your minds with something solemn. The book of Job, now, will prepare you for trials, and there’s a heap of comfort, at such times, in the book of Revelations. (_Exit_ I. E. L.)

MARCUS. Well, our good Nancy takes rather a gloomy view of marriage?

BESS. Yes, poor thing; she’s no such happiness to look forward to. I think she’s a little ashamed of her conduct to Simon Stone. He’s not been near her for three months.

MARCUS. Since he threw up gardening, on so short a trial. But Simon loves her still, I’m sure. (_Enter_ SIMON, C.) He’ll turn up in good time. There’s nothing shabby about Simon Stone.

SIMON. You may bet your bottom dollar on that, every time. How are you Mark?

MARCUS. Holloa! speak of the——

SIMON. Don’t mention him (_gives hand_): we can’t say any good of him. (_Turns to_ BESS.) Miss Bess, your most obedient (_bows_), allow me, in feeble words, but heartfelt gush, to congratulate you and Mark on the happiest day of your life,——to-morrow.

BESS. Oh, thank you.

SIMON (_presenting box_). With hopes and wishes, for loaves and fishes: that is, prosperity.

BESS. Thank you (_opens box_). Diamonds? Oh, Mr. Stone, you are too generous. (_Comes to_ MARK _at table: he looks at them._)

MARCUS. Why, Si! old fellow, this is a princely gift. What is your calling, now?

SIMON. My what is it?

MARCUS. Your trade?

SIMON. Bother trade! Don’t speak of it. I’m above all that, you know. I’m in the Ring now.

MARCUS. The Circus Ring?

SIMON. Do I look like an acrobat?

MARCUS. The Prize Ring?

SIMON. Prize humbug! Do I look like a bruiser? No, Mark: I’m a member of one of those mysterious rings, you know, which surround the government, keep it in its place, without which this glorious union would go to smash. Where’s Mr. Manning? I must see him at once.

BESS. He’s out, but will soon return.

SIMON. Then I will wait.

MARCUS. Look here, Simon, it’s rather queer that you want to see Mr. Manning. I should say Nancy would suit you better.

SIMON. Nancy?——what Nancy?——which Nancy?

BESS. Nancy Nipper, to be sure: have you forgotten her?

SIMON. Oh——ah——yes——yes, I remember there was a young thing, rather smart, somewhat attractive, about here; but when one gets into “rings,” hob-nobbing with senators and nabobs, one forgets these (_snaps fingers_) these little trifles. Nancy? yes, yes.

MARCUS. Well, I’m rather glad to know that you are not in pursuit of her this time, for, between you and me, Nancy has a chance to make a good match now, with one who is dying for her.

SIMON (_excitedly_). You don’t mean it! Dying is he? I’ll finish him! After Nancy——my Nancy! Who is he?

MARCUS. Ha! ha! ha! he’s a man who’s got above trade, you know: a member of one of those mysterious rings, you understand. Ha! ha! ha! Si,——old fellow,——it won’t do: I can read you. You’re on the old trail. (_Comes to_ I. E. L.) Come, Bess.

BESS. Oblige me by making yourself comfortable, Mr. Stone. (_Crosses to_ MARCUS.)

MARCUS. Yes; and forget those (_snaps fingers_) little trifles. Ha! ha! ha! (BESS _and_ MARCUS _exit_ I. E. L.)

SIMON (_stands_ C. _looking after them_). Ha! ha! ha (_mockingly_)! I’m on the old trail, am I? Can’t pull wool over his eyes. He’s right. Nancy is the _dear_ I’m hunting: the Nipper that will satisfy my thirsty spirit. They do say money is one of the sinews of war, the strongest and the mightiest to win. If that’s so, I’m on my muscle. That’s a glorious old blaze. Simon, make yourself comfortable (_sits in arm chair_). She told me to, and when a pretty girl asks a favor, there’s nothing shabby about me. (_Sits before fire, warming his hands, chair with back to_ L. _Enter_ NANCY, L. I. E.)

NANCY. I declare, I’m mortified. To see that couple billing and cooing, and she a little thing, who’s only just left her dolls, a-going to be married, and I scrubbing along in single blessedness, because I hadn’t the sense to take Simon Stone when I had the chance. Plague take the fellow! no doubt he’s given me up, when if he had only stuck to it he might have seen (_crosses to fireplace_), with half an eye, I was dying to throw myself (_seizes back of_ SIMON’S _chair, whirls it round, and bounces into his lap, as she speaks this_) into his arms. (_Screams, jumps up, and runs_ L.) Mercy sakes! who’s that?

SIMON. Needn’t rise on my account, Nancy.

NANCY. What?——no——yes——it is. Why, Simon?

SIMON. Why Simon? because I was christened so, I ’spose, Nancy. Well, how are you? You see I’m down here on a little business with Mr. Manning. Didn’t think of seeing you. ’Sposed you must be married and settled before this, Nancy.

NANCY. Do you mean to say that you are not here on purpose to see me?

SIMON. You don’t suppose a fellow is made of _injy_ rubber, to bounce up after he’s been thrown, and run after the same girl that bounced him, do you? No, Nancy; when I quit gardening so suddenly, I made up my mind that chasing you was not a business that would pay to stick to.

NANCY. Good riddance, Mr. Stone.

SIMON. Thank you, Nancy. Just at that point in my hitherto unfortunate career, Uncle Brim died, and left me a legacy.

NANCY. Who’s Uncle Brim?

SIMON. Uncle Brimer Stone. We called him Brim, for short——Brim Stone; pretty good name for him, for he was a regular old Satan,——well, he left me a thousand dollars.

NANCY. A thousand dollars?

SIMON. Exactly. Now, says I, Simon, you’ve been a rolling stone long enough. You’ve got a nest egg: sit still, and see what will come of it.

NANCY. Well, what did?

SIMON. Calker Goodwin, the broker, came and wanted to borrow it: a genial fellow after he found I had the money, though he did cut me a week before; but then legacies, like death, level all distinctions.

NANCY. And you let him have it?

SIMON. No; declined with thanks, as the editors tell the poets. Then he told me of a good investment. “The Iris.”

NANCY. Irish what?

SIMON. “The Iris,”——a silver mine,——somewhere or nowhere, it don’t matter which. The stock was way down: eighty cents. Cal said it would rise in three days: bade me go in and win. So in I went, invested my thousand in Iris, and in three days it was way up to ten dollars, in three weeks to forty; then I got scared.

NANCY. Scared?

SIMON. Yes; the thing looked too big. I said to myself, some poor fellow will get into this, ’twill bust and up goes his all. And then I’d been reading about rich men’s not being able to enter the eye of a camel, you know; and says I, I’ll be no party to any such business. There’s nothing shabby about me. I’ll sell out. Sold the next day at forty, and three days after the Iris was all in my eye: it busted.

NANCY. But you didn’t.

SIMON. No, Nancy; I made forty thousand dollars. I’ve got it now, and it’s the thing I mean to stick to——

NANCY. Why, Simon, you’re a rich man.

SIMON. Oh, so-so, so-so. You wait until we get our railroad, though.

NANCY. Our railroad?

SIMON. That’s one of my rings. I’m in lots of ’em.

NANCY. Where does this railroad run?

SIMON. Into my pockets, if government will help it. You see it’s not laid out yet, but the papers are in proper trim for a grant.

NANCY. Grant! what’s he got to do with it?

SIMON. Oh, you’re simple, you are: it’s no use to talk to you of these great schemes. Can I do anything for you, Nancy?

NANCY. What do you mean?

SIMON. Well, I’m not proud, Nancy; and when I look at you, the memory of departed days is strong upon me.

NANCY (_tenderly_). O, Simon.

SIMON. And if there’s any young man you want to boost into a business that would suit you——

NANCY (_sternly_). Simon!

SIMON. I’d like to help him to a start. I can’t forget your helping me to a good many.

NANCY (_fiercely_). Simon Stone! you’re just as hateful as you can be. You’ve got money, and now come here to put on airs before me. I knew you when you didn’t know where the next meal was coming from: when you hadn’t a whole rag to your back. Keep your money, and make the best of it. I’ll have nothing more to do with you. (_Crosses to_ R. I. E.)

SIMON. Where are you going, Nancy?

NANCY. To the kitchen, where I belong. I’m no fit associate for a member of the ring.

SIMON (_rising_). Then I’ll go too.

NANCY. Indeed! a dirty kitchen is no place for a member of the ring. (_Exit_ R. I. E.)

SIMON. They’re in all kinds of dirty business anyhow. Don’t think, then, that will prevent me. Well, I’ve made her about as mad as I dare. She’s a smart girl, Nancy is, and she’ll find that, with or without money, there’s nothing shabby about me. (_Exit_ R. I. E. MAY _runs in front door_ L.)

MAY. Roy. Roy, where?——I must have dreamed, when I threw myself upon the bed. Such a horrid dream. Where are they all? (_Looks off_ L.) There’s a light in the billiard room, and Marcus and Bess are there. I’ll go to them (_goes to_ I. E. L.). No, how happy they look; I should be in the way. Dear Bess; to-morrow takes her from me, and gives her to another. May she be happy! She will never know my foolish fears for her made so much mischief. (_Goes slowly to chair at fireplace, stands with her hand on back of it, looking into fire._) And to-night I shall know all. Ah, Roy, my husband, you know not how those simple words comfort me. In their fulfilment I feel there is a power to lift a burden hard to bear. (_Sits in chair, half turned to fire._) And to-night I dreamed of him——the outcast. (_Soft music_, MATT WINSOR _opens door_ C. _softly, catches hold of side of doorway and steadies himself, appears drunk._) I thought he appeared before me in all his rags, as once he came (MATT _staggers to ottoman near window, catches at top of it and steadies himself eyes on the fireplace_), wretched as then, the same drunken look in his eyes. (MATT _staggers to table in same way._) Oh, how I trembled as he fixed his eyes upon me and said:

MATT. Roy’s wife (_hic_), how are you?

MAY. Ah, ’tis he. (_Sinks back into chair._)

MATT. ’Scuse me. You did (_hic_) n’t ’spect me.

MAY. Oh yes, yes, you are very welcome: we have sought you——Roy has. I longed for you to come to tell you how sorry I am for the wrong I did you.

MATT. No such thing (_hic_): you did me no wrong. I de (_hic_) ceived you, and you turned me out like a dog——a stray dog——just what I was. What right had I ’mong hones’ folks.

MAY. The right every man has to recognition when he attempts to shake off the shackles of habit, and be a man again.

MATT. Jes’ so; but you see it’s no use (_hic_). I fell again.

MAY. O Matt——Roy’s comrade——tell me you forgive me.

MATT. Well, you lis (_hic_) ’n to me. You told me to go to my wife——my deserted wife (_hic_). I went; she died in my arms. (_Serious, forgetting himself._) Poor woman! she had fallen by the way. I couldn’t raise her, but I did the best I could; I made a pillow of the breast where beat a heart that once was all hers. She died there: died like a child sinking to rest. (_Weeps._)

MAY (_surprised_). Why, Matt!

MATT (_quickly assuming drunken manner_). Well (_hic_), she died——she