CHARLESTON HARBOUR IN 1861. “AFTER THE BALL.”

SCENE. A Southern Residence on the shore of Charleston Harbour. Interior. Large double doors up centre, open. Large, wide window, with low sill. Veranda beyond the doors, and extending beyond window. A wide opening with corridor beyond. Furniture and appointments quaint and old-fashioned, but an air of brightness and of light; the general tone of the walls and upholstery that of the old Colonial period in its more ornamental and decorative phase, as shown in the early days of Charleston. Old candlesticks and candelabra, with lighted candles nearly burned down. Beyond the central doors and the window, there is a lawn with Southern foliage, extending down to the shores of the harbour; a part of the bay lies in the distance, with low-lying land beyond. The lights of Charleston are seen over the water along the shore. Moonlight. The gray twilight of early morning gradually steals over the scene as the Act progresses.

DISCOVERED, As the curtain rises KERCHIVAL WEST is sitting in a chair, his feet extended and his head thrown back, a handkerchief over his face. ROBERT ELLINGHAM strolls in on veranda, beyond window, smoking. He looks right, starts and moves to window; leans against the upper side of the window and looks across.

ELLINGHAM. Kerchival!

KERCHIVAL. [Under handkerchief.] Eh? H’m!

ELLINGHAM. Can you sleep at a time like this? My own nerves are on fire.

KERCHIVAL. Fire? Oh yes I remember. Any more fire-works, Bob?

ELLINGHAM. A signal rocket from one of the batteries, now and then. [Goes up beyond window. KERCHIVAL arouses himself, taking handkerchief from his eyes.

KERCHIVAL. What a preposterous hour to be up. The ball was over an hour ago, all the guests are gone, and it’s nearly four o’clock. [Looks at his watch.] Exactly ten minutes of four. [Takes out a cigar..] Our Southern friends assure us that General Beauregard is to open fire on Fort Sumter this morning. I don’t believe it. [Lighting cigar and rising, crosses and looks out through window.] There lies the old fort solemn and grim as ever, and the flagstaff stands above it, like a warning finger. If they do fire upon it [Shutting his teeth for a moment and looking down at the cigar in his hand.] the echo of that first shot will be heard above their graves, and heaven knows how many of our own, also; but the flag will still float! over the graves of both sides.

[ELLINGHAM enters up centre and comes down.]

Are you Southerners all mad, Robert?

ELLINGHAM. Are you Northerners all blind? [KERCHIVAL sits.] We Virginians would prevent a war if we could. But your people in the North do not believe that one is coming. You do not understand the determined frenzy of my fellow-Southerners. Look! [Pointing.] Do you see the lights of the city, over the water? The inhabitants of Charleston are gathering, even now, in the gray, morning twilight, to witness the long-promised bombardment of Fort Sumter. It is to be a gala day for them. They have talked and dreamed of nothing else for weeks. The preparations have become a part of their social life of their amusement their gayeties. This very night at the ball here in the house of my own relatives what was their talk? What were the jests they laughed at? Sumter! War! Ladies were betting bonbons that the United States would not dare to fire a shot in return, and pinning ribbons on the breasts of their “heroes.” There was a signal rocket from one of the forts, and the young men who were dancing here left their partners standing on the floor to return to the batteries as if it were the night before another Waterloo. The ladies themselves hurried away to watch the “spectacle” from their own verandas. You won’t see the truth! I tell you, Kerchival, a war between the North and South is inevitable!

KERCHIVAL. And if it does come, you Virginians will join the rest.

ELLINGHAM. Our State will be the battle-ground, I fear. But every loyal son of Virginia will follow her flag. It is our religion!

KERCHIVAL. My State is New York. If New York should go against the old flag, New York might go to the devil. That is my religion.

ELLINGHAM. So differently have we been taught what the word “patriotism” means!

KERCHIVAL. You and I are officers in the same regiment of the United States Regular Army, Robert; we were classmates at West Point, and we have fought side by side on the plains. You saved my scalp once; I’d have to wear a wig, now, if you hadn’t. I say, old boy, are we to be enemies?

ELLINGHAM. [Laying his hand over his shoulder.] My dear old comrade, whatever else comes, our friendship shall be unbroken!

KERCHIVAL. Bob! [Looking up at him.] I only hope that we shall never meet in battle!

ELLINGHAM. In battle? [Stepping down front.] The idea is horrible!

KERCHIVAL. [Rising and crossing to him.] My dear old comrade, one of us will be wrong in this great fight, but we shall both be honest in it. [Gives hand, ELLINGHAM grasps it warmly, then turns away.

ELLINGHAM. Colonel Haverill is watching the forts, also; he has been as sad to-night as we have. Next to leaving you, my greatest regret is that I must resign from his regiment.

KERCHIVAL. You are his favourite officer.

ELLINGHAM. Naturally, perhaps; he was my guardian.

Enter HAVERILL. He walks down, stopping centre.

HAVERILL. Kerchival! I secured the necessary passports? to the North yesterday afternoon; this one is yours; I brought it down for you early in the evening. [KERCHIVAL takes paper. Goes to window.] I am ordered direct to Washington at once, and shall start with Mrs. Haverill this forenoon. You will report to Captain Lyon, of the 2d Regiment, in St. Louis. Robert! I have hoped for peace to the last, but it is hoping against hope. I feel certain, now, that the fatal blow will be struck this morning. Our old regiment is already broken up, and you, also, will now resign, I suppose, like nearly all your fellow-Southerners in the service.

ELLINGHAM. You know how sorry I am to leave your command, Colonel!

HAVERILL. I served under your father in Mexico; he left me, at his death, the guardian of you and your sister, Gertrude. Even since you became of age, I have felt that I stood in his place. But you must be your sister’s only guardian now. Your father fell in battle, fighting for our common country, but you

ELLINGHAM. He would have done as I shall do, had he lived. He was a
Virginian!

HAVERILL. I am glad, Robert, that he was never called upon to decide between two flags. He never knew but one, and we fought under it together. [Exit.

ELLINGHAM. Kerchival! Something occurred in this house to-night which which I shouldn’t mention under ordinary circumstances, but I I feel that it may require my further attention, and you, perhaps, can be of service to me. Mrs. Haverill, the wife of the Colonel

KERCHIVAL. Fainted away in her room.

ELLINGHAM. You know?

KERCHIVAL. I was one of the actors in the little drama.

ELLINGHAM. Indeed!

KERCHIVAL. About half-past nine this evening, while the ladies were dressing for the ball, I was going up-stairs; I heard a quick, sharp cry, sprang forward, found myself at an open door. Mrs. Haverill lay on the floor inside, as if she had just reached the door to cry for help, when she fell. After doing all the unnecessary and useless things I could think of, I rushed out of the room to tell your sister, Gertrude, and my own sister, Madeline, to go and take care of the lady. Within less than twenty minutes afterwards, I saw Mrs. Haverill sail into the drawing-room, a thing of beauty, and with the glow of perfect health on her cheek. It was an immense relief to me when I saw her. Up to that time I had a vague idea that I had committed a murder.

ELLINGHAM. Murder!

KERCHIVAL. M m. A guilty conscience. Every man, of course, does exactly the wrong thing when a woman faints. When I rushed out of Mrs. Haverill’s room, I left my handkerchief soaked with water upon her face. I must ask her for it; it’s a silk one. Luckily, the girls got there in time to take it off; she wouldn’t have come to if they hadn’t. It never occurred to me that she’d need to breathe in my absence. That’s all I know about the matter. What troubles you? I suppose every woman has a right to faint whenever she chooses. The scream that I heard was so sharp, quick and intense that

ELLINGHAM. That the cause must have been a serious one.

KERCHIVAL. Yes! So I thought. It must have been a mouse.

ELLINGHAM. Mr. Edward Thornton has occupied the next room to that of
Mrs. Haverill to-night.

KERCHIVAL. [Crosses quickly.] What do you mean?

ELLINGHAM. During the past month or more he has been pressing, not to say insolent, in his attentions to Mrs. Haverill.

KERCHIVAL. I’ve noticed that myself.

ELLINGHAM. And he is an utterly unscrupulous man; it is no fault of mine that he was asked to be a guest at this house to-night. He came to Charleston, some years ago, from the North, but if there are any vices and passions peculiarly strong in the South, he has carried them all to the extreme. In one of the many scandals connected with Edward Thornton’s name, it was more than whispered that he entered a lady’s room unexpectedly at night. But, as he killed the lady’s husband in a duel a few days afterwards, the scandal dropped.

KERCHIVAL. Of course; the gentleman received ample satisfaction as an outraged husband, and Mr. Thornton apologized, I suppose, to his widow.

ELLINGHAM. He has repeated the adventure.

KERCHIVAL. Do you think that?

ELLINGHAM. I was smoking on the lawn, and glanced up at the window; my eyes may have deceived me, and I must move cautiously in the matter; but it couldn’t have been imagination; the shadow of Edward Thornton’s face and head appeared upon the curtain.

KERCHIVAL. Whew! The devil!

ELLINGHAM. Just at that moment I, too, heard the stifled scream.

Enter EDWARD THORNTON.

THORNTON. Gentlemen!

ELLINGHAM. Your name was just on my tongue, Mr. Thornton.

THORNTON. I thought I heard it, but you are welcome to it. Miss Gertrude has asked me to ride over to Mrs. Pinckney’s with her, to learn if there is any further news from the batteries. I am very glad the time to attack Fort Sumter has come at last!

ELLINGHAM. I do not share your pleasure.

THORNTON. You are a Southern gentleman.

ELLINGHAM. And you are a Northern “gentleman.”

THORNTON. A Southerner by choice; I shall join the cause.

ELLINGHAM. We native Southerners will defend our own rights, sir; you may leave them in our keeping. It is my wish, Mr. Thornton, that you do not accompany my sister.

THORNTON. Indeed!

ELLINGHAM. Her groom, alone, will be sufficient.

THORNTON. As you please, sir. Kindly offer my excuses to Miss Gertrude. You and I can chat over the subject later in the day, when we are alone. [Moving up stage.

ELLINGHAM. By all means, and another subject, also, perhaps.

THORNTON. I shall be entirely at your service.

[Exit and down on veranda.

ELLINGHAM. Kerchival, I shall learn the whole truth, if possible, to-day. If it is what I suspect what I almost know I will settle with him myself. He has insulted our Colonel’s wife and outraged the hospitality of my friends. [Walking right.

KERCHIVAL. [Walking left.] I think it ought to be my quarrel. I’m sure I’m mixed up in it enough.

MADELINE. [Without, calling.] Kerchival!

ELLINGHAM. Madeline. [Aside, starting, KERCHIVAL looks across at him sharply.

KERCHIVAL. [Aside.] I distinctly saw Bob give a start when he heard Madeline. Now, what can there be about my sister’s voice to make a man jump like that?

GERTRUDE. [Without.] Brother Robert!

KERCHIVAL. Gertrude! [Aside, starting, ELLINGHAM looks at him sharply.] How the tones of a woman’s voice thrill through a man’s soul!

Enter MADELINE.

MADELINE. Oh, Kerchival here you are.

Enter GERTRUDE from apartment, in a riding habit, with whip, etc.

GERTRUDE. Robert, dear! [Coming down to ROBERT, they converse in dumb show.

MADELINE. Where are your field-glasses? I’ve been rummaging all through your clothes, and swords, and sashes, and things. I’ve turned everything in your room upside down.

KERCHIVAL. Have you?

MADELINE. I can’t find your glasses anywhere. I want to look at the forts. Another rocket went up just now. [Runs and stands on piazza, looking off right.

KERCHIVAL. A sister has all the privileges of a wife to upset a man’s things, without her legal obligation to put them straight again. [Glances at GERTRUDE.] I wish Bob’s sister had the same privileges in my room that my own has.

GERTRUDE. Mr. Thornton isn’t going with me, you say?

ELLINGHAM. He requested me to offer you his apologies.

KERCHIVAL. May I accompany you? [ELLINGHAM turns to window.

GERTRUDE. My groom, old Pete, will be with me, of course; there’s no particular need of anyone else. But you may go along, if you like. I’ve got my hands full of sugar-plums for Jack. Dear old Jack he always has his share when we have company. I’m going over to Mrs. Pinckney’s to see if she’s had any more news from General Beauregard; her son is on the General’s staff.

MADELINE. [Looking off right.] There’s another rocket from Fort Johnson; and it is answered from Fort Moultrie. Ah! [Angrily.] General Beauregard is a bad, wicked man! [Coming down.

GERTRUDE. Oh! Madeline! You are a bad, wicked Northern girl to say such a thing.

MADELINE. I am a Northern girl.

GERTRUDE. And I am a Southern girl. [They face each other.

KERCHIVAL. The war has begun. [Dropping into chair.

ELLINGHAM has turned from window; he strolls across, watching the girls.

GERTRUDE. General Beauregard is a patriot.

MADELINE. He is a Rebel.

GERTRUDE. So am I.

MADELINE. Gertrude! You you

GERTRUDE. Madeline! You

MADELINE. I I

GERTRUDE. I

BOTH. O O-h! [Bursting into tears and rushing into each other’s arms, sobbing, then suddenly kissing each other vigorously.

KERCHIVAL. I say, Bob, if the North and South do fight, that will be the end of it.

GERTRUDE. I’ve got something to say to you, Madeline, dear. [Confidentially and turning with her arms about her waist. The girls sit, talking earnestly.

ELLINGHAM. Kerchival, old boy! There’s there’s something I’d like to say to you before we part to-day.

KERCHIVAL. I’d like a word with you, also!

MADELINE. You don’t really mean that, Gertrude with me?

ELLINGHAM. I’m in love with your sister Madeline.

KERCHIVAL. The devil you are!

ELLINGHAM. I never suspected such a thing until last night.

GERTRUDE. Robert was in love with you six weeks ago.

[MADELINE kisses her.

KERCHIVAL. I’ve made a discovery, too, Bob.

MADELINE. I’ve got something to say to you, Gertrude.

KERCHIVAL. I’m in love with your sister.

ELLINGHAM. [Astonished.] You are?

MADELINE. Kerchival has been in love with you for the last three months. [GERTRUDE offers her lips they kiss.

KERCHIVAL. I fell in love with her the day before yesterday. [The two gentlemen grasp each other’s hand warmly.

ELLINGHAM. We understand each other, Kerchival. [He turns up centre, and stops at door.] Miss Madeline, you said just now that you wished to watch the forts. Would you like to walk down to the shore?

MADELINE. Yes! [Rising and going up to him. He takes one of her hands in his own and looks at her earnestly.

ELLINGHAM. This will be the last day that we shall be together for the present. But we shall meet again sometime if we both live.

MADELINE. If we both live! You mean if you live: You must go into this dreadful war, if it comes.

ELLINGHAM. Yes, Madeline, I must. Come, let us watch for our fate.

[Exeunt on veranda.

KERCHIVAL. [Aside.] I must leave Charleston to-day. [Sighs.] Does she love me?

GERTRUDE. I am ready to start, Mr. West, when you are.

KERCHIVAL. Oh! Of course, I forgot. [Rising.] I shall be delighted to ride at your side.

GERTRUDE. At my side! [Rising.] There isn’t a horse in America that can keep by the side of my Jack, when I give him his head, and I’m sure to do it. You may follow us. But you can hardly ride in that costume; while you are changing it, I’ll give Jack his bonbons. [Turning to window.] There he is, bless him! Pawing the ground, and impatient for me to be on his back. Let him come, Pete. [Holding up bonbons at window]. I love you.

KERCHIVAL. Eh? [Turning suddenly.

GERTRUDE. [Looking at him.] What?

KERCHIVAL. You were saying

GERTRUDE. Jack! [looking out. The head of a large black horse appears through the window.] You dear old fellow! [Feeds with bonbons.] Jack has been my boy ever since he was a little colt. I brought you up, didn’t I, Jack? He’s the truest, and kindest, and best of friends; I wouldn’t be parted from him for the world, and I’m the only woman he’ll allow to be near him.

KERCHIVAL. [Earnestly.] You are the only woman, Miss Gertrude, that I

GERTRUDE. Dear Jack!

KERCHIVAL. [Aside.] Jack embarrasses me. He’s a third party.

GERTRUDE. There! That will do for the present, Jack. Now go along with Pete! If you are a very good boy, and don’t let Lieutenant Kerchival West come within a quarter of a mile of me, after the first three minutes, you shall have some more sugar-plums when we get to Mrs. Pinckney’s. [An old negro leads the horse away. GERTRUDE looks around at KERCHIVAL.] You haven’t gone to dress yet; we shall be late. Mrs. Pinckney asked a party of friends to witness the bombardment this morning, and breakfast together on the piazza while they are looking at it. We can remain and join them, if you like.

KERCHIVAL. I hope they won’t wait for breakfast until the bombardment begins.

GERTRUDE. I’ll bet you an embroidered cigar-case, Lieutenant, against a box of gloves, that it will begin in less than an hour.

KERCHIVAL. Done! You will lose the bet. But you shall have the gloves; and one of the hands that go inside them shall be [Taking one of her hands; she withdraws it.

GERTRUDE. My own until some one wins it. You don’t believe that General Beauregard will open fire on Fort Sumter this morning?

KERCHIVAL. No; I don’t.

GERTRUDE. Everything is ready.

KERCHIVAL. It’s so much easier to get everything ready to do a thing than it is to do it. I have been ready a dozen times, this very night, to say to you, Miss Gertrude, that I that I [Pauses.

GERTRUDE. [Looking down and tapping skirt with her whip.] Well?

KERCHIVAL. But I didn’t.

GERTRUDE. [Glancing up at him suddenly.] I dare say, General Beauregard has more nerve than you have.

KERCHIVAL. It is easy enough to set the batteries around Charleston Harbour, but the man who fires the first shot at a woman

GERTRUDE. Woman!

KERCHIVAL. At the American flag must have nerves of steel.

GERTRUDE. You Northern men are so slow to

KERCHIVAL. I have been slow; but I assure you, Miss Gertrude, that my heart

GERTRUDE. What subject are we on now?

KERCHIVAL. You were complaining because I was too slow.

GERTRUDE. I was doing nothing of the kind, sir! let me finish, please. You Northern men are so slow to believe that our Southern heroes Northern men and Southern heroes you recognize the distinction I make you won’t believe that they will keep their promises. They have sworn to attack Fort Sumter this morning, and they will do it. This “American Flag” you talk of is no longer our flag: it is foreign to us! It is the flag of an enemy!

KERCHIVAL. [Tenderly and earnestly.] Am I your enemy?

GERTRUDE. You have told me that you will return to the North, and take the field.

KERCHIVAL. Yes, I will. [Decisively.

GERTRUDE. You will be fighting against my friends, against my own brother, against me. We shall be enemies.

KERCHIVAL. [Firmly.] Even that, Gertrude [She looks around at him; he looks squarely into her eyes as he proceeds.] if you will have it so. If my country needs my services, I shall not refuse them, though it makes us enemies! [She wavers a moment, under strong emotion, and turns away; sinks upon the seat, her elbow on the back of it, and her tightly-clenched fist against her cheek, looking away from him.

GERTRUDE. I will have it so! I am a Southern woman!

KERCHIVAL. We have more at stake between us, this morning, than a cigar-case and a box of gloves. [Turning up stage.

Enter MRS. HAVERILL from apartment.

MRS. HAVERILL. Mr. West! I’ve been looking for you. I have a favour to ask.

KERCHIVAL. Of me? with pleasure.

MRS. HAVERILL. But I am sorry to have interrupted you and Gertrude. [Apart.] There are tears in your eyes, Gertrude, dear!

GERTRUDE. [Apart.] They have no right there.

MRS. HAVERILL. [Apart.] I’m afraid I know what has happened. A quarrel! and you are to part with each other so soon. Do not let a girl’s coquetry trifle with her heart until it is too late. You remember the confession you made to me last night?

GERTRUDE. [Apart.] Constance! [Starting.] That is my secret; more a secret now than ever.

MRS. HAVERILL. [Apart.] Yes, dear; but you do love him. [GERTRUDE moves away.

GERTRUDE. You need not ride over with me, Mr. West.

KERCHIVAL. I can be ready in one moment.

GERTRUDE. I choose to go alone! Old Pete will be with me; and Jack, himself, is a charming companion.

KERCHIVAL. If you prefer Jack’s company to mine

GERTRUDE. I do. [Exit on veranda and down right.

KERCHIVAL. Damn Jack! But you will let me assist you to mount. [Exit after her.

MRS. HAVERILL. We leave for the North before noon, but every hour seems a month. If my husband should learn what happened in my room to-night, he would kill that man. What encouragement could I have given him? Innocence is never on its guard but, [Drawing up.] the last I remember before I fell unconscious, he was crouching before me like a whipped cur! [Starts as she looks out of the window.] There is Mr. Thornton now Ah! [Angrily.] No, I must control my own indignation. I must keep him and Colonel Haverill from meeting before we leave Charleston. Edward Thornton would shoot my husband down without remorse. But poor Frank! I must not forget him, in my own trouble. I have but little time left to care for his welfare.

Re-enter KERCHIVAL.

KERCHIVAL. You said I could do you a favour, Mrs. Haverill?

MRS. HAVERILL. Yes, I wanted to speak with you about General Haverill’s son, Frank. I should like you to carry a message to Charleston for me, as soon as it is light. It is a sad errand. You know too well the great misfortune that has fallen upon my husband in New York.

KERCHIVAL. His only son has brought disgrace upon his family name, and tarnished the reputation of a proud soldier. Colonel Haverill’s fellow-officers sympathize with him most deeply.

MRS. HAVERILL. And poor young Frank! I could hardly have loved the boy more if he had been my own son. If he had not himself confessed the crime against the bank, I could not have believed him guilty. He has escaped from arrest. He is in the city of Charleston. I am the only one in all the world he could turn to. He was only a lad of fourteen when his father and I were married, six years ago; and the boy has loved me from the first. His father is stern and bitter now in his humiliation. This note from Frank was handed to me while the company were here last evening. I want you to find him and arrange for me to meet him, if you can do it with safety. I shall give you a letter for him.

KERCHIVAL. I’ll get ready at once; and I will do all I can for the boy. [Turning.

MRS. HAVERILL. And Mr. West! Gertrude and Madeline have told me that that I was under obligations to you last evening.

KERCHIVAL. Don’t mention it. I merely ran for them, and I I’m very glad you didn’t choke before they reached you. I trust you are quite well now?

MRS. HAVERILL. I am entirely recovered, thank you. And I will ask another favour of you, for we are old friends. I desire very much that General Haverill should not know that that any accident occurred to me to-night or that my health has not been perfect.

KERCHIVAL. Certainly, madam!

MRS. HAVERILL. It would render him anxious without cause.

KERCHIVAL [Aside.] It looks as if Robert was right; she doesn’t want the two men to meet.

Enter HAVERILL. A white silk handkerchief is in his hand.

HAVERILL. Constance, my dear, I’ve been all over the place looking for you. I thought you were in your room. But by the way, Kerchival, this is your handkerchief; your initials are on it. [KERCHIVAL turns and stares at him a second. MRS. HAVERILL starts slightly and turns front. HAVERILL glances quickly from one to the other, then extends his hands toward KERCHIVAL, with the handkerchief. KERCHIVAL takes it. MRS. HAVERILL drops into chair.

KERCHIVAL. Thank you. [He exits with a quick glance back. HAVERILL looks at MRS. HAVERILL, who sits nervously looking away. He then glances after KERCHIVAL. A cloud comes over his face, and he stands a second in thought. Then, with a movement as if brushing away a passing suspicion, he smiles pleasantly and approaches MRS. HAVERILL; leans over her.

HAVERILL. My fair Desdemona! [Smiling.] I found Cassio’s handkerchief in your room. Have you a kiss for me? [She looks up; he raises her chin with a finger and kisses her.] That’s the way I shall smother you.

MRS. HAVERILL. [Rising and dropping her head upon his breast.] Husband!

HAVERILL. But what is this they have been telling me?

MRS. HAVERILL. What have they said to you?

HAVERILL. There was something wrong with you in the early part of the evening; you are trembling and excited, my girl!

MRS. HAVERILL. It was nothing, John; I I was ill, for a few moments, but I am well now.

HAVERILL. You said nothing about it to me.

MRS. HAVERILL. Do not give it another thought.

HAVERILL. Was there anything besides your health involved in the affair? There was. [Aside.] How came this handkerchief in her room?

MRS. HAVERILL. My husband! I do not want to say anything more at at present about what happened to-night. There has never been a shadow between us will you not trust me?

HAVERILL. Shadow! You stand in a bright light of your own, my wife; it shines upon my whole life there can be no shadow there. Tell me as much or as little as you like, and in your own time. I am sure you will conceal nothing from me that I ought to know. I trust my honour and my happiness to you, absolutely.

MRS. HAVERILL. They will both be safe, John, in my keeping. But there is something else that I wish to speak with you about; something very near to your heart your son!

HAVERILL. My son!

MRS. HAVERILL. He is in Charleston.

HAVERILL. And not in prison? To me he is nowhere. I am childless.

MRS. HAVERILL. I hope to see him to-day; may I not take him some kind word from you?

HAVERILL. My lawyers in New York had instructions to provide him with whatever he needed.

MRS. HAVERILL. They have done so, and he wants for nothing; he asks for nothing, except that I will seek out the poor young wife only a girl herself whom he is obliged to desert, in New York.

HAVERILL. His marriage was a piece of reckless folly, but I forgave him that.

MRS. HAVERILL. I am sure that it was only after another was dependent on him that the debts of a mere spendthrift were changed to fraud and crime.

HAVERILL. You may tell him that I will provide for her.

MRS. HAVERILL. And may I take him no warmer message from his father?

HAVERILL. I am an officer of the United States Army. The name which my son bears came to me from men who had borne it with honour, and I transmitted it to him without a blot. He has disgraced it, by his own confession.

MRS. HAVERILL. I cannot forget the poor mother who died when he was born; her whose place I have tried to fill, to both Frank and to you. I never saw her, and she is sleeping in the old graveyard at home. But I am doing what she would do to-day, if she were living. No pride no disgrace could have turned her face from him. The care and the love of her son has been to me the most sacred duty which one woman can assume for another.

HAVERILL. You have fulfilled that duty, Constance. Go to my son! I would go with you, but he is a man now; he could not look into my eyes, and I could not trust myself. But I will send him something which a man will understand. Frank loves you as if you were his own mother; and I I would like him to to think tenderly of me, also. He will do it when he looks at this picture. [Taking a miniature from his pocket.

MRS. HAVERILL. Of me!

HAVERILL. I have never been without it one hour, before, since we were married. He will recognize it as the one that I have carried through every campaign, in every scene of danger on the Plains; the one that has always been with me. He is a fugitive from justice. At times, when despair might overcome him, this may give him nerve to meet his future life manfully. It has often nerved me, when I might have failed without it. Give it to him, and tell him that I send it. [Giving her the miniature.] I could not send a kinder message, and he will understand it. [Turning, stands a moment in thought. THORNTON appears at window, looking at them quietly over his shoulder, a cigar in his hand. MRS. HAVERILL sees him and starts with a suppressed breath, then looks at HAVERILL, who moves left. Aside.] My son! My son! We shall never meet again! [Exit in thought.

MRS. HAVERILL looks after him earnestly, then turns and looks at THORNTON, drawing up to her full height. THORNTON moves up stage, beyond window.

MRS. HAVERILL. Will he dare to speak to me again? [Enter THORNTON; he comes down quietly. He has thrown away cigar.

THORNTON. Mrs. Haverill! I wish to offer you an apology.

MRS. HAVERILL. I have not asked for one, sir!

THORNTON. Do you mean by that, that you will not accept one?

MRS. THORNTON. [Aside] What can I say? [Aloud.] Oh, Mr.
Thornton! for my husband’s sake, I

THORNTON. Ah! You are afraid that your husband may become involved in an unpleasant affair. Your solicitude for his safety, madame, makes me feel that my offense to-night was indeed unpardonable. No gentleman can excuse himself for making such a mistake as I have made. I had supposed that it was Lieutenant Kerchival West, who

MRS. HAVERILL. What do you mean, sir?

THORNTON. But if it is your husband that stands between us

MRS. HAVERILL. Let me say this, sir: whatever I may fear for my husband, he fears nothing for himself.

THORNTON. He knows? [Looking at her, keenly.] [Enter KERCHIVAL WEST, now in riding suit.] [He stops, looking at them.] You are silent. Your husband does know what occurred to-night; that relieves my conscience. [Lightly.] Colonel Haverill and I can now settle it between us.

MRS. HAVERILL. No, Mr. Thornton! My husband knows nothing, and, I beg of you, do not let this horrible affair go further. [Sees KERCHIVAL.

KERCHIVAL. Pardon me. [Stepping forward.] I hope I am not interrupting you. [Aside.] It was Thornton. [Aloud.] You said you would have a letter for me to carry, Mrs. Haverill.

MRS. HAVERILL. Yes, I I will go up and write it at once. [Crosses; stops and looks back. Aside.] I wonder how much he overheard.

KERCHIVAL. [Quietly.] I suppose eight o’clock will be time enough for me to go?

MRS. HAVERILL. Oh, yes! [Glancing at him a moment.] quite.

[Exit, through apartment.

KERCHIVAL. [Quietly.] Mr. Thornton! you are a scoundrel! Do I make myself plain?

THORNTON. You make the fact that you desire to pick a quarrel with me quite plain, sir; but I choose my own quarrels and my own enemies.

KERCHIVAL. Colonel Haverill is my commander, and he is beloved by every officer in the regiment.

THORNTON. On what authority, may I ask, do you

KERCHIVAL. The honour of Colonel Haverill’s wife is under our protection.

THORNTON. Under your protection? You have a better claim than that, perhaps, to act as her champion. Lieutenant Kerchival West is Mrs. Haverill’s favourite officer in the regiment.

KERCHIVAL. [Approaching him.] You dare to suggest that I

THORNTON. If I accept your challenge, I shall do so not because you are her protector, but my rival.

KERCHIVAL. Bah! [Striking him sharply on the cheek with glove. The two men stand facing each other a moment.] Is it my quarrel now?

THORNTON. I think you are entitled to my attention, sir.

KERCHIVAL. My time here is limited.

THORNTON. We need not delay. The Bayou La Forge is convenient to this place.

KERCHIVAL. I’ll meet you there, with a friend, at once.

THORNTON. It will be light enough to see the sights of our weapons in about one hour. [They bow to each other, and THORNTON goes out.

KERCHIVAL. I’ve got ahead of Bob.

GERTRUDE. [Without.] Whoa! Jack! Old boy! Steady, now that’s a good fellow.

KERCHIVAL. She has returned. I must know whether Gertrude Ellingham loves me before Thornton and I meet. He is a good shot.

GERTRUDE. [Without, calling.] O-h! Pete! You may take Jack to the stable. Ha ha ha! [Appears at window. To KERCHIVAL.] Old Pete, on the bay horse, has been doing his best to keep up with us; but Jack and I have led him such a race! Ha ha ha ha! [Disappearing beyond the window.

KERCHIVAL. Does she love me?

GERTRUDE. [Entering and coming down.] I have the very latest news from the headquarters of the Confederate Army in South Carolina. At twenty minutes after three this morning General Beauregard sent this message to Major Anderson in Fort Sumter: “I shall open fire in one hour!” The time is up! and he will keep his word! [Turning and looking out of the window. KERCHIVAL moves across to her.

KERCHIVAL. Gertrude! I must speak to you; we may never meet again; but I must know the truth. I love you. [Seizing her hand.] Do you love me? [She looks around at him as if about to speak; hesitates.] Answer me! [She looks down with a coquettish smile, tapping her skirt with her riding whip.] Well? [A distant report of a cannon, and low rumbling reverberations over the harbour. GERTRUDE turns suddenly, looking out. KERCHIVAL draws up, also looking off.

GERTRUDE. A low bright line of fire in the sky! It is a shell. [A second’s pause; she starts slightly.] It has burst upon the fort. [Looks over her shoulder at KERCHIVAL, drawing up to her full height.] Now! do you believe that we Southerners are in deadly earnest?

KERCHIVAL. We Northerners are in deadly earnest, too. I have received my answer. We are enemies! [They look at each other for a moment. [Exit KERCHIVAL.

GERTRUDE. Kerchival! [Moving quickly half across stage, looking after him eagerly; stops.] Enemies! [She drops into chair, sobbing bitterly. Another distant report, and low, long reverberations as the curtain descends.

CURTAIN.