Past Redemption

Thornton. You plead in vain: he is beyond your reach.

Stub (rising, behind bar). Dat's a lie, dat's a lie! (Runs up to door, c., and throws it open.) Quick, Miss Jessie: he's up dar. Go fur him, go fur him! (Steps l.)

Jessie. O Harry, Harry! (Runs up steps, and exits through door.)

Thornton. Curse that fool: you must not enter there! (Goes towards door. Charity runs up, closes door, and stands with back to it.)

Charity. Back! you shall not enter here.

Thornton. Woman, stand back: who shall prevent me? (Stub steps before Charity, and presents pistol to Thornton.)

Stub. Cibil rights bill: dat's me. (Tom runs in from r. steps, and seizes Thornton's arms, binding them back.)

Tom. Ha, ha! shrewdness, old fellow!

(Lime light thrown on from l., above archway, showing Maynard extended on a low couch, resting on his right arm: dark pants, white shirt. Jessie has her arm about him, supporting him).

Jessie. Harry, my own Harry, found at last!

Harry. Jessie, Jessie, thank Heaven for this! (Chorus:

"In the sweet by and by," &c.

Repeated. Slow curtain.)

ACT IV. – Thanksgiving at the Old Home

Scene. —Interior of John Maynard's house. In flat, r. c., bow-window, backed by road and trees, white with snow; snow falling; door l. Open fire-place, r., with bright fire; beside it, a high-backed seat for two; bureau between door and window, in flat. Mantle over the fire-place, with dried grasses in vases, clock, and other ornaments. Arm-chair l.; chair back of that. Door r. u. e.; door l., 2d entrance. Mrs. Maynard discovered at window, looking out.

Mrs. Maynard. The snow comes faster and faster. It's time Stub was back from the depot with Charity. Ah, 'twill be a dull Thanksgiving for us this year: not like the old times when we had Charley, Harry, and Jessie, to make us all merry. Dear me! time does break up households. (Enter John from door l.)

John. I've put him on Harry's bed, mother. I expect you'll scold when you see your white counterpane muddied by his boots, for I couldn't get him beneath it. Poor devil! I fear 'twill be his deathbed. I'd about made up my mind that I'd never give another tramp shelter; but he looked so bad, I hadn't the heart to turn him away (sits on bench) when I thought, mother, that our poor boy might have come in the same way.

Mrs. Maynard (comes down). That's so like you, John! Is he very bad?

John. Yes: broken down with hunger and drink. He begged hard for a little brandy. It was well I had none, for 'twould have been cruel to refuse him, and I would die ere I touched the curse, the cause of so much misery to us.

Mrs. Maynard. Ah, John, all that's over.

John. Yes, mother, we must hope for the best. He was saved, thanks to Charity: but still I fear for him. 'Twill be a day to remember, when we have him back.

Mrs. Maynard. A long, long year since Charity found him, and no word or sign from our loved one.

John. Ah, mother, I like that: I was uncharitable, – I, who have been so bitter against others who turned their faces from the fallen. But I'm proud of him. "Tell father," he said to Charity, "tell him I will never cross his threshold till I can return as I went, – a man." That's so like a Maynard! that's the true grit: I like that.

Mrs. Maynard. And Charity will give us no news of him.

John. No: she shakes her head. "Give him time, give him time: " but she smiles when she says it; and, when Charity smiles, you can depend upon it all's going well. We must trust her, mother. So we have two more faces in the fire, Harry's and Jessie's. (Sleigh-bells heard without.) Ah! there she is, there she is! (Goes to window.) No, it's Tom and Kitty with the baby. Why, mother, they've brought the baby: here's a surprise for you.

Tom (outside). Whoa, I tell you! Give me the baby, Kitty: that's all right. Now come along, come along. (Enters door in flat, with a baby well bundled in his arms.)

John. Tom, glad to see you: this is hearty. Come to the fire; and, Kitty, give us a smack. (Kisses Kitty.)

Tom. Hallo! easy there; but I suppose it's all right.

John. Right? of course 'tis. Now give me the baby.

Tom. To serve in the same style? No, I thank you; it's a tenderer bit than Kitty.

Kitty. Tom, don't be silly!

Mrs. Maynard. I'll take him, Tom, the little darling. (Takes baby.)

Tom (reluctantly giving it up). Certainly, only handle him gently: I'm terribly anxious.

Mrs. Maynard (sits on settle. John helps Kitty off with her things). Oh, you little beauty!

Tom (leans on mantle, back, and watches her). The picture of his daddy: that's what they all say. Is his nose all right? Ain't much of it, but, if the frost got at it, good-by nose. Take care! Oh, Lord, I thought you had dropped him. Hey, Johnny, look up: he's a smart one for a three-months' older. Hadn't I better take him?

Kitty. Tom, do you suppose Mrs. Maynard don't know how to handle a baby?

Tom. Well, I don't know, Kitty; they break awful easy. You just keep your eye on him until I put up the horse. (Going; returns.) Does he look all right, Mrs. Maynard?

Mrs. Maynard. Right! don't you see he's wide awake?

Tom. Yes: but hadn't he ought to be asleep?

Kitty. Tom, do go and put up your horse. I never saw such a goose; when he's awake, you think he should be asleep, and when he's asleep you want to wake him.

Tom. Parental anxiety. You see, Mrs. Maynard, this is something new to me.

Kitty. Well, isn't it new to all of us? Do go along!

Tom. I'm off. (Exit door in flat.)

Kitty. Such a plague!

John. Ah, Kitty, not satisfied! You regret not having taken the other, Nat Harlow.

Kitty. No, indeed. Tom's the best husband in the world. I've not heard a cross word from him the whole year since we've been married; but he does make such a fuss about baby! Sha'n't I take him, Mrs. Maynard?

John. Oh, ho! somebody else makes a fuss too. (Sleigh-bells heard.) Ah, here's Charity at last.

Charity (outside). Drive to the barn, Stub; I'll jump out. (Enters door in flat.) Here I am, you dear old John. (Shakes hands, and kisses John.)

John. Welcome, Charity; a thousand times welcome!

Charity. I knew you'd be glad to see me. (Runs to Mrs. Maynard, and kisses her.) You dear, dear old Hannah!

Mrs. Maynard. Ah, Charity, you always bring sunlight with you.

Charity. A baby! bless me! Oh! it's yours, Kitty. That for you (kisses her), and this for the baby. (Kisses baby.)

Kitty. Young as ever, Mrs. Goodall. Come, Mrs. Maynard, let me carry the baby off to bed. Don't move: I know the way. (Takes baby, and exits r. u. e.)

John. Now, Charity, our boy —

Mrs. Maynard. Yes, Harry! What news?

Charity. Dear me! do let me get my things off. (Removes cloak and hat. Mrs. Maynard takes them, and carries them off r. u. e. Charity sits, and looks into fire.) What a glorious blaze! (John leans on back of bench.) Ah, John, I've often envied you your quiet evenings here, with this for company; often seen you and Hannah sitting here together, taking so much comfort. (Enter Mrs. Maynard, r. u. e., and leans on bench, between Charity and the fire.)

Mrs. Maynard. O Charity! tell us of our boy.

John. Yes, yes, Charity, be merciful: what of him?

Charity (rises and comes l.). Oh, do be patient! I've a strange fancy to see how you look there in the old seat. Come, take your places, and tell me what you see there. (John sits with Mrs. Maynard on bench, she next the fire; he takes her hand.) That's nice. (Goes to back of bench.) Now, tell me, what see you there? (Enter Stub, door in flat, excitedly.)

Stub. I've put 'em up, Miss Charity, an' – an' —

Charity. Silence, Stub! (He comes down l.)

Stub (aside). Dat's de quarest woman eber I see: ben in de house five minutes, an' not tole de news.

Charity. Well, John, I'm waiting.

John. There, Charity, is my picture-gallery of old memories, that both sadden and cheer waiting and aching hearts. What do I see? (Looking into fire.) The face of my brave soldier boy: the face that has glowed upon us in its noble manhood for many, many years.

Charity. The face of a hero, John: there are no bitter memories there. He died bravely: passed into the better life with the grand army of martyrs, crowned with glory.

Stub. Yas indeed, dead an' gone, Massa Cap'n: God bless him! Miss Charity, am you gwine to tell —

Charity. Be silent! (Stub goes l., shaking his head.)

Stub. I shall bust it out: I can't help it.

Charity. Well, brother John.

John. Another, a younger face. Now I see it with the glow of health upon the cheeks, the eye bright and laughing, as I have seen it come and go before me in the old days. And now – 'tis pale and haggard: the eyes are bloodshot. O Charity, the face that has haunted my sleep! I have tried to shut it out; but it comes before me with a look full of reproach. Oh had I but been merciful, all this might not have been!

Charity. And yet that, too, is the face of a hero.

Stub. Oh! why don't she tell 'em?

Charity. Go on, John: look once more.

John. Once more: the face of a fair, bright girl, who won her way to my heart. I never knew how much I loved, until I lost her. She left me, nobly left me: I had no right to stay her. Will she come back, Charity? will she?

Stub. Why, don't you know —

Charity. Silence, Stub! Now, brother John, let me tell you what I see there. I see the face of that same brave, true girl, in all its beauty: the girl who forsook home and friends, with the brave wish in her heart to save her lover from destruction. I see her gladly embracing a life of hard, grinding poverty, cheering the fainting spirit of a broken man, guarding and guiding him through the dark valley of remorse, until he stands alone, strong, resolute, determined.

John. Jessie, our Jessie: well, well, go on.

Charity. I see her with the rich glow of health again mantling her cheeks: I hear the ringing laugh of the happy girl again: I see her returning to her father's house (enter Jessie, door in flat), a proud, true, happy wife!

Jessie (running down to John). Here, here again: dear, dear father!

John (rising, and taking her in his arms). Jessie, my darling, a thousand and a thousand times welcome!

Jessie. Dear, dear mother, your child has returned to you.

Mrs. Maynard (takes her in her arms). O Jessie, Jessie, welcome! do you come alone?

Charity. Be patient! sit you down and listen. (They sit again, Jessie kneeling between Mrs. Maynard and the fire.)

Stub. Wh-wh-what all dis mean? Ain't you gwine —

Charity. Silence, Stub! I see another face, – the face of the young man who went forth to fight the battle of temptation. I see him struggling: I see friends around him: I see one with a true, loving heart, clinging to him through good and evil report: see him fighting valiantly in the distant West: see the freshness of renewed life in his ruddy cheek, until, his foe beneath his feet, he comes back to his old home. (Enter Harry, door in flat.)

John (rushing down r.). I see it all, Charity: my boy has come home. Where, oh, where is he?

Harry. Here, father, here.

John (turns). O Harry, Harry! my dear, dear boy! (Rushing into his arms.)

Stub. Hi, golly! dat's de ticket, dat's de ticket!

Harry. Mother, have you no word for the truant?

Mrs. Maynard (embracing him). My heart is too full, Harry! (Harry, c.; Mrs. Maynard, r. c.; Jessie, r.; Mr. Maynard, l. c.; Charity, l.; Stub, extreme l.)

Harry. Mother, father, of the bitter past —

John. We'll not hear a word, Harry. We have you safe again: let the sorrows of the past be forgotten in the joy of the present. Mother, look at him! what a frame, what a face! Hang me, if I don't believe all this has been a joke!

Harry. Nay, father, in remembering the trials we have passed, we gain new hope for the future. I am a free man, with a home of my own; rich Western lands own me as master; but I owe all to the dear girl who loved me, – the brave, noble woman who befriended me. Come here, little wife: let my parents see that the child they adopted is now theirs by right. (Jessie goes to him.)

Jessie. Yes, father, we ran away and were married: will you forgive us?

John. Forgive you, puss? it was Harry's salvation! (Enter Tom, door in flat.)

Tom. There, the horse is all right: now for the baby. Bless my soul, where's the baby? (Enter Kitty, r. u. e.)

Kitty. Asleep, Tom; don't make such a noise!

Tom. Asleep! he'll die of starvation. Here! (Takes nursing-bottle from his pocket.) I forgot to leave his luncheon.

Kitty (snatching bottle). Tom, I'm ashamed of you, before all these folks! (They go up. Enter Capt. Bragg, door in flat.)

Capt. Ah, Maynard, how are you? I just dropped in as I was going by. Why, bless my soul! Harry Maynard, as fresh as a buttercup! Why, how are you? and Jessie too! Well, this is glorious! (Shakes hands.) John, old friend, you're a lucky dog! I thought the boy was about gone, the last time I saw him; but he's come round all right. Ah! I always told you to keep up a stout heart! Look at me: I'm nearly seventy: my boy has been gone twenty years; but I know he'll come back, – come back a hero, or a millionnaire: he couldn't help it! he's a Bragg. He'll come back!

Thornton (outside, l.). Away! away, you cannot reach me: I defy you, I defy you! (Rushes in l., and falls prostrate at Bragg's feet.)

Capt. (shrinking back). Hallo, what's this?

Harry (runs to Thornton, and raises his head). Merciful Heavens, 'tis Thornton!

All. Thornton!

Thornton (feebly). Who said Thornton? What, Maynard! Maynard, you here?

Harry. O Thornton! has it come to this?

Thornton. Yes, Maynard, I'm down: down deeper than I had you. There's no hope! Only a year, only a year! I was cheated. I, who thought myself so shrewd and keen, in one night lost all, and took to drink. Oh, it's glorious to drown all trouble in the flowing bowl! Ha, ha! but it gets you at last: it has me. I have begged, cheated, stolen, for a single draught. Give me a drink: a drop of brandy, only a drop to cool my burning throat!

Harry. You ask this of me, whom you so bitterly wronged?

Thornton. Yes, I did wrong you; but I loved that girl as I loved but one other! Maynard, Maynard, hear me! this one woman I wronged: she haunts me: she was my wife. I forsook her, cast her off. She came from your native town. Her name – her name was – Alice Clarke.

John. Alice Clarke – Jessie's mother!

Thornton. Jessie's mother! No, no; don't tell me that: don't make me a greater villain than I know myself to be.

John. She died beneath my roof, giving her child to my keeping.

Jessie. He is my father: stand back! Harry, my place is here! (Kneels, and supports him.)

Thornton (looks in her face). And I pursued you with a sinful love: brought him down to the very gates of death.

Jessie. All is forgotten, all forgiven, father.

Thornton. Take her away, take her away: I can't bear her touch! (Crawls down stage.) Her eyes glare at me! There's the look of her dead mother in them. Oh, spare me, spare me!

Harry. O Thornton, Thornton, this is terrible!

Thornton. Thornton! you're wrong. Call me by my rightful name: you must have heard it, – William Bragg.

John. William Bragg?

Capt. No, no; it cannot be! You, you my Bill? Curse you: you stole that name! That was my boy's, – a handsome, noble fellow!

Thornton. I am your son!

Capt. It's a lie: you're a miserable wretch! Think you a Bragg would come home in such a plight? I'll not believe it. (Looks at him, then sinks on his knees, covers his face.) It's false! I can not, will not believe it.

Thornton. You must, you do, old man. You might have made me a better man; but you nursed my vanity, and – well, well, it's all over now. I've dug my grave: let me rest in peace.

Capt. (rising to his feet). No, no peace for you: you have disgraced my name. Die, die like a dog! Why did you come back here to ruin me, to drag me down from my position, to make me a by-word and a scorn among my neighbors? Why didn't you die in the gutters of your infamous city? But here, here! Die, but take my —

Charity (puts her hand on his shoulder). Pause ere you speak. He is dying; he has sinned: leave his punishment to a higher Power. Here, where our hearts are warm with gratitude for a blessed deliverance, curse not, but forgive as we all hope to be forgiven!

Tableau. —With her left hand on his shoulder, Bragg slowly sinks to his knees; her other hand is pointed up. Thornton feebly raises his head, and follows her hand. Harry sits in chair, l., with his arm about Jessie, who kneels at his side, looking at Thornton; Stub extreme l. John Maynard with his wife stand r., 2d entrance; Kitty on bench; Tom leaning on back of bench, looking at Thornton. Slow curtain; music: —

"In the sweet by and by," &c.