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Two Men of Sandy Bar: A Drama, a play by Bret Harte |
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Act 2 Scene 4 |
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_ [SCENE 4. The same. Enter the DUCHESS, showily and extravagantly dressed. Her manner at first is a mixture of alternate shyness and bravado.] THE DUCHESS. I heerd tell that you was goin' down to 'Frisco to-morrow, for your vacation; and I couldn't let ye go till I came to thank ye for your kindness to my boy,--little Tommy. MISS MARY (aside. Rising abstractedly, and recalling herself with an effort). I see,--a poor outcast, the mother of my anonymous pupil. (Aloud.) Tommy! a good boy,--a dear, good little boy. DUCHESS. Thankee, miss, thankee. If I am his mother, thar ain't a sweeter, dearer, better boy lives than him. And, if I ain't much as says it, thar ain't a sweeter, dearer, angeler teacher than he's got. It ain't for you to be complimented by me, miss; it ain't for such as me to be comin' here in broad day to do it, either; but I come to ask a favor,--not for me, miss, but for the darling boy. MISS MARY (aside--abstractedly). This poor, degraded creature will kill me with her wearying gratitude. Sandy will not return, of course, while she is here. (Aloud.) Go on. If I can help you or yours, be assured I will. THE DUCHESS. Thankee, miss. You see, thar's no one the boy has any claim on but me, and I ain't the proper person to bring him up. I did allow to send him to 'Frisco, last year; but when I heerd talk that a schoolma'am was comin' up, and you did, and he sorter tuk to ye natril from the first, I guess I did well to keep him yer. For, oh, miss, he loves ye so much; and, if you could hear him talk in his purty way, ye wouldn't refuse him anything. MISS MARY (with fatigued politeness, and increasing impatience). I see, I see: pray go on. THE DUCHESS (with quiet persistency). It's natril he should take to ye, miss; for his father, when I first knowed him, miss, was a gentleman like yourself; and the boy must forget me sooner or later--and I ain't goin' to cry about THAT. MISS MARY (impatiently). Pray tell me how I can serve you. THE DUCHESS. Yes, miss; you see, I came to ask you to take my Tommy,--God bless him for the sweetest, bestest boy that lives!--to take him with you. I've money plenty; and it's all yours and his. Put him in some good school, whar ye kin go and see, and sorter help him to--forget---his mother. Do with him what you like. The worst you can do will be kindness to what he would learn with me. You will: I know you will; won't you? You will make him as pure and as good as yourself; and when he has grown up, and is a gentleman, you will tell him his father's name,--the name that hasn't passed my lips for years,--the name of Alexander MORTON. MISS MARY (aside). Alexander Morton! The prodigal! Ah, I see,--the ungathered husks of his idle harvest. THE DUCHESS. You hesitate, MISS MARY. (Seizing her.) Do not take your hand away. You are smiling. God bless you! I know you will take my boy. Speak to me, MISS MARY. MISS MARY (aloud). I will take your child. More than that, I will take him to his father. THE DUCHESS. No, no! for God's sake, no, Miss Mary! He has never seen him from his birth: he does not know him. He will disown him. He will curse him,--will curse me! MISS MARY. Why should he? Surely his crime is worse than yours. THE DUCHESS. Hear me, MISS MARY. (Aside.) How can I tell her? (Aloud.) One moment, miss. I was once--ye may not believe it, miss--as good, as pure, as you. I had a husband, the father of this child. He was kind, good, easy, forgiving,--too good for me, miss, too simple and unsuspecting. He was what the world calls a fool, miss: he loved me too well,--the kind o' crime, miss,--beggin' your pardon, and all precepts to the contrairy,--the one thing that women like me never forgives. He had a pardner, miss, that governed him as HE never governed me; that held him with the stronger will, and maybe ME too. I was young, miss,--no older than yourself then; and I ran away with him,--left all, and ran away with my husband's pardner. My husband--nat'rally--took to drink. I axes your pardin', miss; but ye'll see now, allowin' your larnin', that Alexander Morton ain't the man as will take my child. MISS MARY. Nonsense. You are wrong. He has reformed; he has been restored to his home,--your child's home, your home if you will but claim it. Do not fear: I will make that right. [Enter SANDY slowly and sheepishly, R.; stops on observing the Duchess, and stands amazed and motionless.] MISS MARY (observing SANDY--aside). He HAS returned. Poor fellow! How shall I get rid of this woman? (Aloud.) Enough. If you are sincere, I will take your child, and, God help me! bring him to his home and yours. Are you satisfied? THE DUCHESS. Thank ye! Thank ye, miss; but--but thar's a mistake somewhar. In course--it's natural--ye don't know the father of that child, my boy Tommy, under the name o' Alexander MORTON. Ye're thinking, like as not, of another man. The man I mean lives yer, in this camp: they calls him Sandy, miss,--SANDY! MISS MARY (after a pause, coming forward passionately). Hush! I have given you my answer, be it Alexander Morton or SANDY. Go now: bring me the child this evening at my house. I will meet you there. (Leads the DUCHESS to wing. The DUCHESS endeavors to fall at her feet.) THE DUCHESS. God bless you, miss! MISS MARY (hurriedly embracing her). No more, no more--but go! [Exit DUCHESS. MISS MARY returns hurriedly to centre, confronting SANDY. MISS MARY (to SANDY, hurriedly and excitedly). You have heard what that woman said. I do not ask you under what alias you are known here: I only ask a single question.--Is SHE your wife? are you the father of her child? SANDY (sinking upon his knees before her, and covering his face with his hands). I am! MISS MARY. Enough! (Taking flower from her bosom.) Here, I give you back the flower you gave me this morning. It has faded and died here upon my breast. But I shall replace it with your foundling,--the child of that woman, born like that flower in the snow! And I go now, Sandy, and leave behind me, as you said this morning, the snow and rocks in which it bloomed. Good-by! Farewell, farewell--forever! (Goes toward schoolhouse as--) [Enter COL. STARBOTTLE.] MISS MARY (to STARBOTTLE). You are here in season, sir. You must have come for an answer to your question. You must first give me one to mine. Who is this man (pointing to SANDY), the man you met upon the rocks this morning? COL. STARBOTTLE. Ahem! I am--er--now fully prepared and responsible, I may say, miss--er--personally responsible, to answer that question. When you asked it this morning, the ordinary courtesy of the--er--code of honor threw a--er--cloak around the--er--antecedents of the--er--man whom I had--er--elected by a demand for personal satisfaction, to the equality of myself, an--er--gentleman! That--er--cloak is now removed. I have waited six hours for an apology or a--er--reply to my demand. I am now free to confess that the--er--person you allude to was first known by me, three months ago, as an inebriated menial,--a groom in the household of my friend Don Jose Castro,--by the--er--simple name of "Diego." MISS MARY (slowly). I am satisfied. I accept my cousin's invitation. [Exit slowly, supported by COL. STARBOTTLE, R. [As STARBOTTLE and MISS MARY exeunt R., CONCHO and HOP SING enter cautiously, L. SANDY slowly rises to his feet, passes his hand across his forehead, looks around toward exit of STARBOTTLE and MISS MARY.] SANDY (slowly, but with more calmness of demeanor). Gone, gone--forever! No: I am not mad, nor crazed with drink. My hands no longer tremble. There is no confusion here. (Feeling his forehead). I heard them all. It was no dream. I heard her every word. Alexander Morton, yes, they spoke of Alexander MORTON. She is going to him, to my father. She is going--she, Mary, my cousin--she is going to my father. He has been seeking me--has found--ah! (Groans.) No, no, Sandy! Be patient, be calm: you are not crazy--no, no, good Sandy, good old boy! Be patient, be patient: it is coming, it is coming. Yes, I see: some one has leaped into my place; some one has leaped into the old man's arms. Some one will creep into HER heart! No! by God! No! I am Alexander MORTON. Yes, yes! But how, how shall I prove it?--how? Who (CONCHO steps cautiously forward towards SANDY unobserved) will believe the vagabond, the outcast--my God!--the crazy drunkard? CONCHO (advancing, and laying his hand on SANDY). I will! SANDY (staggering back amazedly). You! CONCHO. Yes,--I, I,--Concho! You know me, Diego, you know me,--Concho, the major-domo of the Blessed Innocents. Ha! You know me now. Yes, I have come to save you. I have come to make you strong. So--I have come to help you strip the Judas that has stepped into your place,--the sham prodigal that has had the fatted calf and the ring,--ah! ah! SANDY. You? You do not know me! CONCHO. Ah! you think, you think, eh? Listen: Since you left I have tracked HIM--THE IMPOSTOR, this Judas, this coyote--step by step, until his tracks crossed yours; and then I sought you out. I know all. I found a letter you had dropped; that brought me to Poker Flat. Ah, you start! I have seen those who knew you as Alexander MORTON. You see! Ah, I am wise. SANDY (aside). It is true. (Aloud.) But (suspiciously) why have you done this? You, Concho?--you were not my friend. CONCHO. No, but HE is my enemy. Ah, you start! Look at me, Alexander Morton, Sandy, Diego! You knew a man, strong, active, like yourself. Eh! Look at me now! Look at me, a cripple! Eh! lame and crushed here (pointing to his leg), broken and crushed here (pointing to his heart), by him,--the impostor! Listen, Diego. The night I was sent to track you from the rancho, he--this man--struck me from the wall, dashed me to the earth, and made MY BODY, broken and bruised, a stepping-stone to leap the wall into your place, Diego,--into your father's heart,--into my master's home. They found me dead, they thought,--no, not dead, Diego! It was sad, they said,--unfortunate. They nursed me; they talked of money--eh, Diego!--money! They would have pensioned me to hush scandal--eh! I was a dog, a foreigner, a Greaser! Eh! That is why I am here. No! I love you not, Diego; you are of his race; but I hate--Mother of God!--I HATE him! SANDY (rising to his feet, aside). Good! I begin to feel my courage return: my nerves are stronger. Courage, Sandy! (Aloud.) Be it so, Concho: there is my hand! We will help each other,--you to my birthright, I to your revenge! Hark ye! (SANDY'S manner becomes more calm and serious.) This impostor is NO craven, NO coyote. Whoever he is, he must be strong. He has most plausible evidences. We must have rigid proofs. I will go with you to Poker Flat. There is one man, if he be living, knows me better than any man who lives. He has done me wrong,--a great wrong, Concho,--but I will forgive him. I will do more,--I will ask his forgiveness. He will be a witness no man dare gainsay--my partner--God help him and forgive him as I do!--John OAKHURST. CONCHO. Oakhurst your partner! SANDY (angrily). Yes. Look ye, Concho, he has wronged me in a private way: that is MY business, not YOURS; but he was MY partner, no one shall abuse him before me. CONCHO. Be it so. Then sink here! Rot here! Go back to your husks, O prodigal! wallow in the ditches of this camp, and see your birthright sold for a dram of aguardiente! Lie here, dog and coyote that you are, with your mistress under the protection of your destroyer! For I tell you--I, Concho, the cripple--that the man who struck me down, the man who stepped into your birthright, the man who to-morrow welcomes your sweetheart in his arms, who holds the custody of your child, is your partner,--John OAKHURST. SANDY (who has been sinking under CONCHO'S words, rising convulsively to his feet). God be merciful to me a sinner! (Faints.) CONCHO (standing over his prostrate body exultingly). I am right. You are wise, Concho, you are wise! You have found Alexander Morton! HOP SING (advancing slowly to SANDY'S side, and extending open palm). Me washee shirt flo you, flowty dozen hab. You no payee me. Me wantee twenty dollar hep. Sabe! [Curtain.] END OF ACT II. _ |
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