Two Men of Sandy Bar

Miss Mary. Yes. But what if your lover had failed to keep those promises by which he was to gain your hand? what if he were a man incapable of self-control? what if he were—a—a drunkard?

Jovita (musing). A drunkard! (Aside.) There was Diego, he was a drunkard; but he was faithless. (Aloud.) You mean a weak, faithless drunkard?

Miss Mary. No! (Sadly.) Faithless only to himself, but devoted—yes, devoted to YOU.

Jovita. Miss Mary, I have found that one big vice in a man is apt to keep out a great many smaller ones.

Miss Mary. Yes; but if he were a slave to liquor?

Jovita. My dear, I should try to change his mistress. Oh, give me a man that is capable of a devotion to anything, rather than a cold, calculating average of all the virtues!

Miss Mary (aside). I, who aspire to be her teacher, am only her pupil. (Aloud.) But what if, in this very drunkenness, this recklessness, he had once loved and worshipped another woman? What if you discovered all this after—after—he had won your heart?

Jovita. I should adore him! Ah, Miss Mary! Love differs from all the other contagious diseases: the last time a man is exposed to it, he takes it most readily, and has it the worst! But you, YOU cannot sympathize with me. You have some lover, the ideal of the virtues; some man as correct, as well regulated, as calm as—yourself; some one who addresses you in the fixed morality and severe penmanship of the copy-books. He will never precipitate himself over a garden wall or through a window. Your Jacob will wait for you through seven years, and receive you from the hands of your cousin and guardian—as a reward of merit! No, you could not love a vagabond.

Miss Mary (very slowly and quietly). No?

Jovita. No! (Passionately.) No, it is impossible. Forgive me, Miss Mary: you are good; a better girl than I am. But think of me! A year ago my lover leaped a wall at midnight to fly with me: today, the day that gives me to him, he writes a few cold lines, saying that he has business, BUSINESS—you understand—business, and that he shall not see me until we meet in the presence of—of—of—our fathers.

Miss Mary. Yes; but you will see him at least, perhaps alone. Listen: it is no formal meeting, but one of festivity. My guardian has told me, in his quaint scriptural way, it is the killing of the fatted calf, over his long-lost prodigal. Have patience, little one. Ah! Jovita, we are of a different race, but we are of one sex; and as a woman I know how to accept another woman's abuse of her lover. Come, come! [Exeunt MISS MARY and JOVITA.

SCENE 5.—The drawing-room of MR. MORTON'S villa. Large open arch in centre, leading to veranda, looking on distant view of San Francisco; richly furnished,—sofas, arm-chairs, and tete-a-tetes. Enter COL. STARBOTTLE, C., carrying bouquet, preceded by SERVANT, bowing.

Starbottle. Take my kyard to Miss Morris. [Exit SERVANT.

Starbottle. Star! This is the momentous epoch of your life! It is a moment for which you—are—I may say alone responsible,—personally responsible! She will be naturally gratified by the—er—flowers. She will at once recognize this bouquet as a delicate souvenir of Red Gulch, and will appreciate your recollection. And the fact, the crushing fact, that you have overlooked the—er—ungentlemanly conduct of her OWN cousin Sandy, the real Alexander Morton, that you have—er—assisted to restore the ex-vaquero to his rights, will—er—er—at once open the door to—er—mutual confidence and—er—a continuance of that—er—prepossession I have already noticed. Ahem! here she is.

Enter MISS MARY in full dress.

Miss Mary. You are early, Col. Starbottle. This promptitude does honor to our poor occasion.

Col. Starbottle. Ged, Miss Mary, promptness with a lady and an adversary is the first duty of—er—gentleman. I wished that—er—the morning dew might still be—er—fresh in these flowers. I gathered them myself (presenting bouquet) at—er—er—flower-stand in the—er—California market.

Miss Mary (aside). Flowers! I needed no such reminder of poor Sandy. (Aloud.) I thank you, colonel.

Starbattle. Ged, ma'am, I am repaid doubly. Your conduct, Miss Mary, reminds me of little incident that occurred at Richmond, in '58. Dinner party—came early—but obliged to go—as now—on important business, before dessert—before dessert. Lady sat next to me—beautiful woman—excuse me if I don't mention names—said to me, "Star,"—always called me Star,—"Star, you remind me of the month of May."—"Ged, madam,"—I said, "delighted, proud; but why?"—"Because," she said, "you come in with the—er—oysters."—No! Ged, pardon me—ridiculous mistake! I mean—er—"you come in with the—er—flowers, and go before the—er—fruits."

Miss Mary. Ah, colonel! I appreciate her disappointment. Let us hope, however, that some day you may find that happy woman who will be able to keep you through the whole dinner and the whole season, until December and the ices!

Starbottle. Ged! excellent! Capital! (seriously.) Miss Mary! (Suddenly inflating his chest, striking attitude, and gazing on MISS MARY with languishing eyes.) There is—er such a woman!

Miss Mary (aside). What can he mean?

Starbottle (taking seat beside her). Allow me, Miss Mary, a few moments of confidential—er—confidential disclosure. To-day is, as you are aware—the day on which, according to—er—agreement between parties, my friend and client, Mr. Morton, sen.,—formally accepts his prodigal son. It is my—er—duty to state that—er—the gentleman who has for the past year occupied that position has behaved with great discretion, and—er—fulfilled his part of the—er—agreement. But it would—er—appear that there has been a—er—slight delusion regarding the identity of that prodigal,—a delusion shared by all the parties except, perhaps, myself. I have to prepare you for a shock. The gentleman whom you have recently known as Alexander Morton, jun., is not the prodigal son; is not your—er—cousin; is, in fact, no relation to you. Prepare yourself, Miss Mary, for a little disappointment,—for— er—degradation. The genuine son has been—er—discovered in the person of—er—low menial—or—vagabond,—"Sandy," the—er—outcast of Red Gulch!

Miss Mary (rising in astonishment). Sandy! Then he was right. (Aside.) The child is his! and that woman—

Starbottle. Compose yourself, Miss Mary. I know the—er—effect of—er—revelation like this upon—er—proud and aristocratic nature. Ged! My own, I assure you, beats in—er—responsive indignation. You can never consent to remain beneath this roof, and—er—receive a—er—vagabond and—er—menial on equal terms. The—er—necessities of my—er—profession may—er—compel me; but you—er—never! Holding myself—er—er—responsible for having introduced you here, it is my—er—duty to provide you with—another home! It is my—er—duty to protect—

Miss Mary (aside). Sandy here, and beneath this roof! Why has he not sought me? Ah, I know too well: he dare not face me with his child!

Starbottle (aside). She turns away! it is maiden coyness. (Aloud.) If, Miss Mary, the—er—devotion of a life-time; if the—er—chivalrous and respectful adoration of a man—er—whose record is—er—not unknown in the Court of Honor (dropping on one knee with excessive gallantry); if the—er—measure—

Miss Mary (oblivious of COL. STARBOTTLE). I WILL—I MUST see him! Ah! (looking L.) he is coming!

Enter SANDY.

Starbottle (rising with great readiness and tact). I have found it (presenting flower). It had fallen beneath the sofa.

Sandy (to MISS MARY, stopping short in embarrassment). I did not know you—I—I—thought there was no one here.

Miss Mary (to STARBOTTLE). May I ask you to excuse me for a moment? I have a few words to say to—to my COUSIN!

STARBOTTLE bows gallantly to MISS MARY, and stiffly to SANDY, and exit R. A long pause; MISS MARY remains seated pulling flowers, SANDY remains standing by wing, foolish and embarrassed. Business.

Miss Mary (impatiently). Well?

Sandy (slowly). I axes your pardon, miss; but you told THAT gentleman you had a few words—to say to me.

Miss Mary (passionately, aside). Fool! (Aloud.) I had; but I am waiting to first answer your inquiries about your—your—child. I have fulfilled my trust, sir.

Sandy. You have, Miss Mary, and I thank you.

Miss Mary. I might perhaps have expected that this revelation of our kinship would have come from other lips than a stranger's; but—no matter! I wish you joy, sir, of your heritage. (Going.) You have found a home, sir, at last, for yourself and—and—your child. Good-day, sir.

Sandy. Miss Mary!

Miss Mary. I must make ready to receive your father's guests. It is his orders: I am only his poor relation. Good-by, sir. [Exit L.

Sandy (watching her). She is gone!—gone! No! She has dropped on the sofa in the ante-room, and is crying. Crying! I promised Jack I wouldn't speak until the time came. I'll go back. (Hesitating, and looking toward L.) Poor girl! How she must hate me! I might just say a word, one word to thank her for her kindness to Johnny,—only one word, and then go away. I—I—can keep from liquor. I swore I would to Jack, that night I saw the old man—drunk,—and I have. But—I can't keep—from—her! No—damn it! (Going toward L.) No!—I'll go! [Exit L.

Enter hurriedly and excitedly JOVITA, R., followed by MANUELA.

Jovita. Where is she? Where is HE?—the traitor!

Manuela (entreatingly). Compose yourself, Dona Jovita, for the love of God! This is madness: believe me, there is some mistake. It is some trick of an enemy,—of that ingrate, that coyote, Concho, who hates the Don Alexandro.

Jovita. A trick! Call you this a trick? Look at this paper, put into my hands by my father a moment ago. Read it. Ah! listen. (Reads.) "In view of the EVIDENT PREFERENCES of my son, Alexander Morton, I hereby revoke my consent to his marriage with the Dona Jovita Castro, and accord him full permission to woo and win his cousin, Miss Mary Morris!" Call you this a trick, eh? No, it is their perfidy! This is why SHE was brought here on the eve of my betrothal. This accounts for his silence, his absence. Oh, I shall go mad!

Manuela. Compose yourself, miss. If I am not deceived, there is one here who will aid us,—who will expose this deceit. Listen: an hour ago, as I passed through the hall, I saw Diego, our old Diego,—your friend and confidant, Diego.

Jovita. The drunkard—the faithless Diego!

Manuela. Never, Miss Jovita; not drunken! For, as he passed before me, he was as straight, as upright, as fine as your lover. Come, miss, we will seek him.

Jovita. Never! He, too, is a traitor.

Manuela. Believe me, no! Come, Miss Jovita. (Looking toward L.) See, he is there. Some one is with him.

Jovita (looking). You are right; and it is she—SHE, Miss Mary! What? he is kissing her hand! and she—SHE, the double traitress—drops her head upon his shoulder! Oh, this is infamy!

Manuela. Hush! Some one is coming. The guests are arriving. They must not see you thus. This way, Miss Jovita,—this way. After a little, a little, the mystery will be explained. (Taking JOVITA'S hand, and leading her R.)

Jovita (going). And this was the correct schoolmistress, the preceptress and example of all the virtues! ha! (laughing hysterically) ha!

[Exeunt JOVITA and MANUELA.

SCENE 6.—The same. Enter SERVANT; opens folding doors C., revealing veranda and view of distant city beyond. Stage, fog effect from without. Enter STARBOTTLE and OAKHURST, R., in full evening dress.

Starbottle (walking towards veranda). A foggy evening for our anniversary.

Oakhurst. Yes. (Aside.) It was such a night as this I first stepped into Sandy's place, I first met the old man. Well, it will be soon over. (Aloud.) You have the papers and transfers all ready?

Starbottle. In my—er—pocket. Mr. Morton, sen., should be here to receive his guests.

Oakhurst. He will be here presently: until then the duty devolves on me. He has secluded himself even from me! (Aside.) Perhaps it is in very shame for his recent weakness.

Enter SERVANT.

Servant. Don Jose Castro, Miss Castro, and Miss Morris.

Enter DON JOSE with JOVITA and MISS MARY on either arm. All formally salute MR. OAKHURST, except MISS JOVITA, who turns coldly away, taking seat remotely on sofa. COL. STARBOTTLE gallantly approaches MISS MARY, and takes seat beside her.

Oakhurst (aside). They are here to see my punishment. There is no sympathy even in her eyes.

Enter SERVANT.

Servant. Mr. Concepcion Garcia and Mr. Capper.

Concho (approaching OAKHURST, rubbing his hands). I wish you joy, Mr. Alexander Morton!

Oakhurst (excitedly, aside). Shall I throw him from the window! The dog!—even he!

Capper (approaching MR. OAKHURST). You have done well. Be bold. I will see you through. As for THAT man (pointing to CONCHO), leave him to ME! (Lays his hand on Concho's shoulder, and leads him to sofa R. OAKHURST takes seat in chair L. as SANDY enters quietly from door L., and stands leaning upon his chair.)

Starbottle (rising). Ladies and gentlemen, we are waiting only for the presence of Mr. Alexander Morton, sen. I regret to say that for the last twenty-four hours—he has been—er—exceedingly preoccupied with the momentous cares of the—er—occasion. You who know the austere habits of my friend and—er—client will probably understand that he may be at this very moment engaged in prayerful and Christian meditation, invoking the Throne of Grace, previous to the solemn duties of—er—er—tonight.

Enter SERVANT.

Servant. Mr. Alexander Morton, sen.

Enter OLD MORTON, drunk, in evening costume, cravat awry, coat half-buttoned up, and half-surly, half-idiotic manner. All rise in astonishment. SANDY starts forward. OAKHURST pulls him back.

Morton (thickly). Don't rish! Don't rish! We'll all sit down! How do you do, sir? I wish ye well, miss. (Goes around and laboriously shakes hands with everybody.) Now lesh all take a drink! lesh you take a drink, and you take a drink, and you take a drink!

Starbottle. Permit me, ladies and gentlemen, to—er—explain: our friend is—er—evidently laboring under—er—er—accident of hospitality! In a moment he will be himself.

Old Morton. Hush up! Dry up—yourself—old turkey-cock! Eh!

Sandy (despairingly). He will not understand us! (To STARBOTTLE.) He will not know me! What is to be done?

Old Morton. Give me some whishkey. Lesh all take a drink! (Enter SERVANT with decanter and glasses.)

Old Morton (starting forward). Lesh all take a drink!

Sandy. Stop!

Old Morton (recovering himself slightly). Who says stop? Who dares countermand my orderish?

Concho (coming forward). Who? I will tell you: eh! eh! Diego—dismissed from the rancho of Don Jose for drunkenness! Sandy—the vagabond of Red Gulch!

Sandy (passionately seizing OLD MORTON'S arm). Yes, Diego—Sandy—the outcast—but, God help me! no longer the drunkard. I forbid you to touch that glass!—I, your son, Alexander Morton! Yes, look at me, father: I, with drunkenness in my blood, planted by you, fostered by you—I whom you sought to save—I—I stand here to save you! Go! (To SERVANT.) Go! While he is thus, I—I, am master here!

Old Morton (cowed and frightened). That voice! (Passing his hand over his forehead.) Am I dreaming Aleck, where are you? Alexander, speak, I command you: is this the truth?

Oakhurst (slowly). It is!

Starbottle. One moment—a single moment: permit me to—er—er—explain. The gentleman who has just—er—dismissed the refreshment is, to the best of my legal knowledge, your son. The gentleman who for the past year has so admirably filled the functions of that office is—er—prepared to admit this. The proofs are—er—conclusive. It is with the—er—intention of offering them, and—er—returning your lawful heir, that we—er—are here to-night.

Old Morton (rising to his feet). And renounce you both! Out of my house, out of my sight, out of my heart, forever! Go! liars, swindlers, confederates! Drunk—

Oakhurst (retiring slowly with SANDY). We are going, sir!

Old Morton. Go! open the doors there WIDE, wide enough for such a breadth of infamy! Do you hear me? I am master here!

Stands erect, as OAKHURST and SANDY, hand in hand, slowly retreat backward to centre,—then suddenly utters a cry, and falls heavily on sofa. Both pause: OAKHURST remains quiet and motionless; SANDY, after a moment's hesitation, rushes forward, and falls at his feet.

Sandy. Father, forgive me!

Old Morton (putting his hand round SANDY'S neck, and motioning him to door). Go! both of you, both of you! (Resisting SANDY'S attempt to rise.) Did you hear me? Go!

Starbottle. Permit me to—explain. Your conduct, Mr. Morton, reminds me of sing'lar incident in '47—

Old Morton. Silence!

Oakhurst. One word, Mr. Morton! Shamed and disgraced as I am, I leave this roof more gladly than I entered it. How I came here, you best know. How I yielded madly to the temptation, the promise of a better life; how I fell, through the hope of reformation,—no one should know better than you, sir, the reformer. I do not ask your pardon. You know that I did my duty to you as your presumed son. Your real son will bear witness, that, from the hour I knew of his existence, I did my duty equally to him. Col. Starbottle has all the legal transfers and papers necessary to make the restoration of your son—the integrity of your business name—complete. I take nothing out of this life that I did not bring in it,—except my self-respect! I go—as I came—alone!

Jovita (rushing towards him). No! no! You shall take ME! I have wronged you, Jack, cruelly; I have doubted you; but you shall not go alone. I care not for this contract! You are more to me, by your own right, Jack, than by any kinship with such as these!

Oakhurst (raising her gently). I thank you, darling. But it is too late now. To be more worthy of you, to win YOU, I waived the title I had to you in my own manhood, to borrow another's more legal claim. I who would not win you as a gambler, cannot make you now the wife of a convicted impostor. No! Hear me, darling! do not make my disgrace greater than it is. In the years to come, Jovita, think of me as one who loved you well enough to go through shame to win you, but too well to ask you to share with him that shame. Farewell, darling, farewell! (Releases himself from JOVITA'S arms, who falls beside him.)

Concho (rubbing his hands, and standing before him). Oho! Mr. John Oakhurst—eh—was it for this, eh—you leaped the garden wall, eh? was it for this you struck me down, eh? You are not wise, eh? You should have run away with the Dona when you could—ah, ah, impostor!

Sandy (leaping to his feet). Jack, you shall not go! I will go with you!

Oakhurst. No! Your place is there. (Pointing to old MORTON, whose head has sunk drunkenly on his breast.) Heed not this man; his tongue carries only the borrowed lash of his master.

Concho. Eh! you are bold now—bold; but I said I would have revenge—ah, revenge!

Sandy (rushing toward him). Coward!

Don Jose. Hold your hand, sir! Hold! I allow no one to correct my menials but myself. Concho, order my carriage!

Concho. It is ready, sir.

Don Jose. Then lead the way to it, for my daughter and her husband, John Oakhurst.—Good-night, Mr. Morton, I can sympathize with you; for we have both found a son. I am willing to exchange my dismissed servant for your dismissed PARTNER.

Starbottle (advancing). Ged, sir, I respect you! Ged, sir, permit me, sir, to grasp that honorable hand!

Old Morton (excitedly). He is right, my partner. What have I done! The house of Morton & Son dissolved. The man known as my partner—a fugitive! No, Alexander!

Starbottle. One moment—a single moment! As a lawyer, permit me to say, sir, that the whole complication may be settled, sir, by the—er—addition of—er—single letter! The house of Morton & Son shall hereafter read Morton & Sons. The papers for the legal adoption of Mr. Oakhurst are—er—in my pocket.

Old Morton (more soberly). Have it your own way, sir! Morton & Sons be it. Hark ye, Don Jose! We are equal at last. But—hark ye, Aleck! How about the boy, eh?—my grandson, eh? Is this one of the sons by adoption?

Sandy (embarrassedly). It is my own, sir.

Capper (advancing). He can with safety claim it; for the mother is on her way to Australia with her husband.

Old Morton. And the schoolma'am, eh?

Miss Mary. She will claim the usual year of probation for your prodigal, and then—

Sandy. God bless ye, Miss Mary!

Old Morton. I am in a dream! But the world—my friends—my patrons—how can I explain?

Starbottle. I will—er—explain. (Advancing slowly to front—to audience.) One moment—er—a single moment! If anything that has—er—transpired this evening—might seem to you, ladies and gentlemen—er—morally or—er—legally—or honorably to require—er—apology—or—er—explanation—permit me to say—that I—Col. Culpepper Starbottle, hold myself responsible—er—personally responsible.

Capper. Concho.

Old Morton. Sandy. Miss Mary. Don Jose. Jovita. Oakhurst.

Col. Starbottle.

Curtain.