Agnes. I wonder what keeps Moselle.
Tom (rises, and removes his hat). Miss Fairlee!
Agnes. O Mr. Carew! the very man I was thinking of.
Tom. Were you? That's odd – no, even – for I was thinking of you: in fact, I've done little else but think of you. (Confused, takes up pack.) No: I don't mean that – confound this strap! – you see, my partner has left every thing in confusion: he's no housekeeper.
Agnes. Did you ever know a man that was? You need a wife, Mr. Carew.
Tom. I know it: that's the reason I was thinking of you.
Agnes (laughs). You're the tenth miner who has said the same thing to me within a month.
Tom. Only ten? well, it's been a pretty bad month.
Agnes. I hope not.
Tom. Yes: the boys are off in their holes. Wait a few days, and the air will be black with matrimonial speculators.
Agnes. Then, I think I'd better be leaving.
Tom. Good fellows, too, who will make their advances timidly, and feel relieved when they are put out of their misery by a refusal.
Agnes. All of them?
Tom (dropping pack). No: for here and there among miners, as among men in every station, you will find one who looks upon women as pure gold; as something to be approached with reverence, and, if won, to be enshrined in the devotion of a life.
Agnes. Such men are scarce.
Tom. And such women plenty, but they don't come this way often.
Agnes. Did ever such a woman cross your path?
Tom (sighs). In my dreams.
Agnes (laughs). A visionary woman. Do you see her often?
Tom. As often as I see you.
Agnes (turns away confused. Aside). This must go no farther. (Aloud.) Mr. Carew, would you do me a service?
Tom. Willingly.
Agnes. A very dear friend, one to whom I am in duty bound, has left his home and friends. I have reason to believe he is in this part of the country. Will you help me find him?
Tom (agitated). Very dear to you?
Agnes (casting down her eyes). Yes.
Tom (after a struggle). His name?
Agnes. I cannot tell you that: I cannot even give you the name by which he is known.
Tom. Then, how am I to discover him?
Agnes. You have my name: go among the miners, tell them of me and my quest. He will hear of me, and, in spite of dangers that beset him, will find some way to meet me.
Tom. You set me a hard task.
Agnes. But you will make the attempt? O Mr. Carew! if you could look into that once happy home, now desolate by the absence of a son, for whom a fond mother is slowly but surely breaking her heart, a loving sister mourning, and I – I would give the world to reclaim! (Weeps.)
Tom. He shall be found. I'll seek him. Your name shall be the spell to conjure him from his hiding-place, were he in the deepest mine of Nevada.
Agnes. Oh, thanks, thanks! I knew that in you I should find a friend, a helper.
Tom (bitterly). Rare confidence, when you have known me but a day.
Agnes. Longer than that. Your brave acts, the generous promptings of your true and noble heart, have been morning lessons to me for many a day.
Tom. You speak in riddles. Where have you heard aught of me?
Agnes. From Moselle, who believes, were she in danger, you would never forsake her. From her eloquent thankfulness of heart, I was led to hope that I, too, might find a champion in you.
Tom. Thank you. You were right. I will serve you faithfully.
Agnes (giving him her hand). Thank you. (Looks into his face, then casts down her eyes, and slowly exits into cabin.)
Tom (stands looking after her, then looks at the hand she took, then sighs). "One who is very dear to me." She said that, – said it calmly, never dreaming of the crushing force with which those words fell. One very – He is her lover, perhaps her husband. And I – I love her. (Sighs.) Well, old boy, you've struck a blind lead this time. No pay-dirt here; and yet, I'll swear there was something in those sweet eyes of hers. (Sighs.) I must forget her. I'll quit the camp, get far away, and then – no, I have promised to serve her, and I'll do it. Bring him to her arms. (Sighs.) Not a pleasant task; but I'll do it, I'll do it. (Goes to pack.) Now for my knife. (Opens pack, pulls out blanket.) There's no knife here. (Unrolls blanket. Sitting on rock, photograph drops out.) What's this? A picture! (Looks at it, rises.) It's Agnes, Agnes Fairlee; and he, Dick, is the runaway, her lover, perhaps her husband, Fairlee? (Pulls other picture from belt.) Why, this (looks at it closely) is Dick. Put a beard on that face, and 'tis Dick the forger. I sha'n't have to go far to find him; and he and I both love the same woman. One word to that detective, he is in prison and she is free. Well, I must be pretty far gone to harbor such a thought. Betray my partner, the man with whom I have eaten and slept, dug and quarried? No, no, not for so bright a pair of eyes as yours, Agnes Fairlee.
Dick (outside). Moselle, where are you?
Moselle (laughing). Ha, ha, ha! Seek and find, seek and find.
Tom. Ah! I had forgotten our Moselle. She loves him; and he, villain that he is, has trifled with her. She must be protected, saved, though justice overtake him. (Darts up run.)
(Enter Jube, R. 2 E.)
Jube. Say, Tom, Thomas, whar's de fire? Say! so he's off: yas, so's ole Vermont. Nebber did see sich carrin's on in de 'hole course ob my life. Jes took dat ar tender hoof, de whitewasher, into his cabin, gib him de best cheer, – on de floor, – de best china, den fill him up wid bacon, chock up to de muzzle: den tender hoof was tired – too much bacon – laid down on de bench, an' went to sleep, ole man settin' dar watchin' him. Bym-by de ole man get up sofly, git a blankit, kivers him up, tucks him in. Seed it all fro a crack. Ole man jes clean gone on dat ar tender hoof.
(Enter Mother, from cabin.)
Mother. Jube, where's Moselle?
Jube. Oh, she's in anoder scrape.
Mother. What kind of a scrape?
Jube. Candy-scrape, I guess. She an' Dandy Dick havin' a sweet time up dar onto de rocks.
Moselle (coming down run). O mother, mother! (Throws her arms about Mother's neck.)
Mother. Why, what's the matter, child?
Moselle. Don't ask me. Look there.
(Enter down run, Dick, his hands fastened behind him, head down, followed by Jerden, with a pistol in his hand.)
Jerden. Attempt escape, and you are a dead man.
(Dick comes slowly down, goes R., and sits on rock. Jerden stands beside him.)
Jube. By golly, he's took!
(Enter Vermont, R. 2 E.)
Vermont. Who's took?
Jube. Dandy Dick. He's de twenty fousan feller.
Vermont. Ah! we've a traitor in the camp. Who has done this? (Crosses to L.)
Tom (descends run). Tom Carew.
Vermont. You, Tom? (Levels pistol.) Then, take that.
Moselle (throws herself before Tom). No, daddy, not Tom. O Tom! why have you done this?
Tom. For your sake, little one: he has deceived you.
Dick. 'Tis false!
(Enter Agnes, from cabin.)
Agnes. Who's that? Ah! (Runs across stage, and falls on Dick's neck.) Richard!
Dick. Agnes!
Tom. Look there, Moselle. (Points to Dick.)
Moselle. No, no! (Throws herself into Vermont's arms.) O daddy, my heart is breaking!
(Curtain on Picture. – Tom C., points to Dick. Agnes kneeling, her arms about Dick's neck. Jerden behind them. Jube L. C., scratching his head. Mother at door L., her hands clasped, looking at Dick. Vermont with Moselle's arms about his neck L.)
Act II. —Interior of Vermont's cabin of rough logs, door C., window with swinging shutter L. C. mountain, wood and rocks as in Act I.; fireplace R., with fire; stool near. Table L. C., with stools R. and L. of it. Bench R., near first entrance, on which Dick is discovered asleep, covered with a blanket. Jerden sitting R. of table watching Dick; Win-Kye at window, looking in; candle burning on table. Lights down
Win-Kye. All ligh'! Catchee man, and man he catchee: all ligh'. Jube he say 'Win-Kye watchee catchee man; no let catchee man kille man he catchee.' Gollee! me pleceman: all ligh'.
Jerden. How he sleeps! No wonder, poor devil! These miners are any thing but sociable, when the officers of the law are to be entertained. Every cabin shut against us. Fortunately old Vermont took himself off to-night; and I've taken possession, no doubt to be turned out on his return. This beard's mighty uncomfortable. (Takes off beard, and lays it on table.)
Win-Kye. Ki, yi! Catchee man shabee click, no soapee, no lazor.
Jerden. He little dreams who his captor is. Curse him! he stood between me and the dearest wish of my life; but I have him now. A rare streak of luck. I forged the check he bungled with. Like a fool, he cut and run. That was all right, for had he faced the music it might have been hot for me; but she, Agnes Fairlee, she, too, disappeared. I had risked all for nothing. But as Jerden, the detective, I have tracked him, and found her. Now let me get him away from here: she will follow, and then – (Dick moves.) Ah! (Hastily replaces beard.)
Win-Kye. Catchee man flaid he catchee cold. Sh! schoolemarm. Me hoppee stick. (Runs by door, and exit R.)
Jerden (rises). Ah! who's there?
(Enter, past window through door, Agnes.)
Agnes (at door). May I speak with your prisoner?
Jerden (bows). I hate to refuse a lady; but my orders are, to let none communicate with him until he is placed in jail.
Agnes. In jail?
Jerden. Still, as you seem to be a very dear friend of his —
Agnes. You will grant my request?
Jerden. If you will give me your word he shall not escape.
Agnes. You will leave us alone?
Jerden. Certainly.
Agnes. I give you my pledge he shall not escape.
Jerden (goes up). Then, I will retire – out of hearing, but not out of sight. My eyes will still be upon him; and, if he attempts flight, a well-aimed bullet shall be the signal for my return. (Exit past window off L.)
(Agnes looks after him, then comes down, and taps Dick on shoulder.)
Agnes. Richard!
Dick (starting up). No, no, Moselle, 'tis false, false. (Rubs his eyes.) Ah! Agnes, is it you?
Agnes. Yes, Richard. How can you sleep at such a time?
Dick. At such a time? It is the first real rest I have had for a year. Agnes, if you had skulked and hid as I have, if you had started from sleep at every sound, had trembled at the approach of every stranger, had feared an enemy would spring from every bush you passed, you would know what a blessed relief it is to feel that all is over.
Agnes (sits on stool R. of table). Then, why did you fly from justice?
Dick. Because I was a coward. Afraid to face that same justice, and so have suffered more torments than even her sternest sentence would have inflicted. Now I am going back to face her, and proclaim my innocence.
Agnes. Your innocence?
Dick. Have you ever doubted it?
Agnes. Yes. Your strange flight, your silence for a year, the circumstances —
Dick. Were all against me. Agnes, I am suffering for the crime of another. You knew him, – Stephen Corliss.
Agnes. Your friend?
Dick. So he called himself. You know how we became acquainted. He was a friend of the junior partner of the firm of Gordon, Green, & Co., by whom I was employed. He took a fancy to me, invited me to his rooms, insisted on my being his companion in drives, to the theatres, and in other amusements. It was at his request that I brought him home, and introduced him to you.
Agnes. I never liked him: I told you his companionship would do you no good.
Dick. You did. One day he asked me to step round to the bank, and cash a check made in his favor by Gordon, Green, & Co. It was for twenty thousand dollars. I was not surprised at the amount; as I knew he was considered a man of wealth, and had large dealings with the concern. I laughingly asked him if he was not afraid to trust me with so large an amount, to which he replied, "No: if you are not afraid to draw it." I went to the bank, agreeing to meet him at his rooms with the money. On presenting it at the bank, the teller looked at the check suspiciously, and took it to the cashier. One of the clerks whispered to me, "Look out for yourself, Dick, that check's a forgery." Forgery! I started at the word: to me it had always been a horror. I left the bank, not knowing what I was doing. I flew to Corliss's rooms: the door was locked, and on it a placard, "Gone to Europe." I turned and ran, that word "forgery" burning into my brain, through the city, out into country, as if pursued by tormenting fiends. A fever attacked me; and, when I recovered, I found myself in the hands of strangers. Then commenced my wanderings, which have ended here where they should have begun, – in capture.
Agnes. Have you never communicated with your employers, avowed your innocence?
Dick. Never.
Agnes. Why, Richard, you have acted like a madman!
Dick. Haven't I? Perhaps the word "Fool" would be better. How easily I might have cleared myself. How – Oh, well! I'm not the first man who has been wrecked on the reefs of "Might have been."
Agnes. But this man's motive? Why did he act thus?
Dick. Because he loved you. I was in the way.
Agnes. Loved me? Then, through that love I can save you.
Dick. Perhaps you can, but you shall not. I'll take my chances with the law.
Agnes. I shall return with you.
Dick. No: you must stay here in the charge of a friend, the only man I can trust, – Tom Carew.
Agnes. He your friend? Why, he betrayed you!
Dick. So he did: I forgot that. But then, he put me out of my misery, so we'll forgive him.
Agnes. You may, but I, never. I had begun to like your friend. (Tom appears at window.) I thought him good and noble: I find him base and treacherous. I hate this Tom Carew. (Crosses to L.)
Tom (aside). If you don't, you're not the woman I thought you.
Dick. Oh! Tom's a good fellow, only just now he's in love.
(Enter Tom, door C.)
Tom (to Agnes). If he had no other excuse than that, he would be what you just now styled him, – base and treacherous.
Agnes. Have you not proved yourself so, betrayed your friend, deceived me?
Tom. Deceived you?
Agnes. Did you not promise to seek him I sought, to bring him to me? How have you kept your word? By betraying him to the man from whom I sought to save him. Is this a token of your boasted regard for mothers, wives, and sisters?
Tom. Hear me before you condemn. In these wild lands is a tender flower, gladdening the hearts of rough miners by its fragrance and beauty. From its coming it has been fondly cherished and tenderly cared for. Yesterday it was trampled in the dust by one who knew the fearful wrong he was committing.
Dick. Ah! The flower is Moselle.
Tom. And the despoiler you. That fact known among the miners, your life would answer for it; but, knowing there was one to whom you were very dear, for her sake I checked the first promptings of vengeance, and gave you into the hands of justice.
Dick. To save me from Judge Lynch. I see.
Tom. Whose sentence you richly deserve.
Dick. Don't be too sure of that.
Tom. Now, having saved you from Judge Lynch, it is your turn to save yourself from the detective. My horse is tied outside. Take yourself off.
Agnes. No, you must not attempt escape: his eyes are upon you. A movement, and he will shoot.
Moselle (outside). Ha, ha, ha! (Runs in door, C.) Shoot! I guess not, when he's strapped to a tree. Hear him holler.
Jerden (in the distance). Help! Help!
Dick. Moselle, what does this mean?
Moselle. Fun! I told you I was all ready for it; and so, while Tom held the "catchee man," as Win calls him, I gave him the benefit of a rope.
Dick. Hung him?
Moselle. Ha, ha, ha! No, only quartered him – under a tree.
Tom. Now, Dick, off with you. Here's my dust (offers bag), and the horse will carry two.
Dick. Not your dust, Tom. I'm to have a companion: who is it?
Tom (with a glance at Agnes). Can you ask?
Dick. I can. Moselle, will you go with me?
Moselle. Me?
Tom (seizes Moselle and places her behind him). Do you dare, before (points to Agnes) the one who has come miles to reclaim you? You know where your duty lies. Take her (takes Agnes by the hand, and leads her up to Dick), and away!
Dick. What! Run off with my own sister?
Tom (staggering back to window). Sister?
Moselle. His sister! Ain't this jolly! O Dick! (Runs into his arms.) I'm just dying for a run.
Dick. Then, off we go. (Exit door C., with arm about Moselle.)
Tom. His sister! (Agnes sits L. of table, throws her arms on table, face on her arms.) Well, Tom Carew, you've struck bed-rock now, and no mistake. His sister; and there she is, grieving, because he's gone. (Comes down R.) And she hates me. "I had just begun to like your friend." Hang it! and I, like a blamed mule, have kicked over the pan, and scattered the dust. (Sits R. of table, puts his arms on it, looks at Agnes a moment, then puts his face down on his arms. Agnes looks up, smiling.)
Agnes (aside). He is a good fellow: only, as Dick says, he's in love. (Tom raises his head. She quickly drops hers, as before.)
Tom. I wish I could say something to comfort her; but no: she hates me. (Drops as before. She raises her head.)