<^ .A^ IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-S) /. 1.0 I.I (J 112 |40 ilM II 2.2 1 2.0 1.8 1.25 1.4 1.6 < 6" - ► V] <^ /2 o /a / /A Photographic Sciences Corporation 23 WEST MAIN STREET WEBSTER, N.Y. 14580 (716) 872-4503 C!HM/ICMH Microfiche Series. CIHIVJ/ICMH Collection de microfiches. m Canadian Institute for Historical Microreproductions Institut Canadian de microreproductions historiques 1980 Technical and Bibliographic Notes/Notes techniques et bibliographiques The Institute has attempted to obtain the best original copy available for filming. Features of this copy which may be bibliographically unique, which may alter any of the images in the reproduction, or which may significantly change the usual method of filming, are checlted below. L'Institut a microfilm^ le meilleur exemplaire qu'il lui a 6t6 possible de se procurer. Les details de cet exemplaire qui sont peut-dtre uniques du point de vue bibliographique, qui peuvent modifier une image reproduite, ou qui peuvent exiger una modification dans la m6thode normale de filmage sont indiquds ci-dessous. D D D D Coloured covers/ Couverture de couleur Covers damaged/ Couverture endommagde Covers restored and/or laminated/ Couverture restaurde et/ou pellicul6e Cover title missing/ Le titre de couverture manque □ Coloured maps/ Cartes gdographiques en couleur □ Coloured ink (i.e. other then blue or black)/ Encre de couleur (i.e. autre que bleue ou noire) □ Coloured plates and/or illustrations/ Planches et/ou illustrations en couleur D D D Bound with other material/ Relid avec d'autres documents Tight binding may cause shadows or distortion along interior margin/ La reliure serr6e peut causer de I'ombre ou de la distortion le long de la marge int6rieure Blank leaves added during restoration may appear within the text. Whenever possible, these have been omitted from filming/ II se peut que certaines pages blanches ajout6es lors d'une restauration apparaissent dans le texte, mais, lorsque cela 6tait possible, ces pages n'ont pas 6td filmdes. D D □ D D D D D Coloured pages/ Pages de couleur Pages damaged/ Pages endommag6es Pages restored and/or laminated/ Pages restaur^es et/ou pelliculdes Pages discoloured, stained or foxed/ Pages d6color6es, tachetdes ou piqu^es Pages detached/ Pages d^tachdes Showthrough/ Transparence Quality of print varies/ Qualitd indgale de I'impression Includes supplementary material/ Comprend du materiel suppl^mentaire Only edition available/ Seule Edition disponible Pages wholly or partially obscured by errata slips, tissues, etc., have been refilmed to ensure the best possible image/ Les pages totalement ou partiollement obscurcies par un feuillet d'errata, une pelure, etc., ont 6td film^es d nouveau de faqon d obtenir la meilleure image possible. D Additional comments:/ Commentaires suppl6mentaires: This item is filmed at the reduction ratio checked below/ Ce document est film6 au taux de reduction indiqu6 ci-dessous. IPX 14X 18X 22X I I I I I Jl I I I I I I 26X 30X 12X 16X 20X 24X 28X 32X The copy filmed here has been reproduced thanks to the generosity of: National Library of Canada L'exemplaire filmd fut reproduit grdce d la gdnirositd de: Bibliothdque nationale du Canada The images appearing here are the best quality possible considering the condition and legibility of the original copy and in keeping with the filming contract specifications. Original copies in printed paper covers are filmed beginning V'':*f the front cover and ending on the last page with a printed or illustrated impres- sion, or the back cover when appropriate. All other original copies are filmed beginning on the first page with a printed or illustrated impres- sion, and ending on the last page with a printed or illustrated impression. The last recorded frame on each microfiche shall contain the symbol -^ (meaning "CON- TINUED"), or the symbol V (meaning "END"), whichever applies. Maps, plates, charts, etc., may be filmed at different reduction ratios. Those too large to be entirely included in one exposure are filmed beginning in the upper left hand corner, left to right and top to bottom, as many frames as required. The following diagrams illustrate the method: Les images suivantes ont 6X6 reprodu'tes avec le plus grand soin, compte tenu de la condition et de la netteti de l'exemplaire film6, et en conformity avec les conditions du contrat de filmage. Les exemplaires originaux dont la couverture en papier est imprimde sont filmis en commen^ant par le premier plat et en terminant soit par la dernidre page qui comporte une empreinte d'impression ou d'illustration, soit par le second plat, selon le cas. Tous les autres exemplaires originaux sont film6s en commenpant par la premidre page qui comporte une empreinte d'impression ou d'illustration et en terminant par la dernidre page qui comporte une telle empreinte. Un des symboles suivants apparaftra sur la dernidre image de chaque microfiche, selon le cas: le symbole — ^ signifie "A SUIVRE", le symbole V signifie "FIN". Les cartes, planches, tableaux, etc., peuvent dtre film6s 6 des taux de reduction diffdrents. Lorsque le document est trop grand pour dtre reproduit en un seul clich6, 11 est film6 6 partir de Tangle sup6rieur gauche, de gauche 6 droite, et de haut en bas, en prenant le nombre d'images ndcessaire. Les diagrammes suivants illustrent la mdthode. 1 2 3 32X 1 2 3 4 5 6 St / THE PBIDE GF KILLIBIiET. \! A DOMESTIC DRAMA IN FOUR AOTS. SPECIALLY WRITTBN FOR T St. Hnn'0 l^ouno /IDen's Socfcti?, By JAMES MARTIN, (a member op the society.) « MONTREAL. St. Ann's young Men's Hall, 187 Ottawa Street. 1896. CHARACTERS. MAURICE O'DONIJELL «' The Pride of Killarney." MR. O'DONNELL. . . , Maurice's Father. MYLES O'SHAUGHNESSY A wttini-hearted Irishman. MR. O'DRISCOLL Mr. O'Donnell's Friaud. BARNEY RAFFERTY A Killar.iey Boy. DARBY GRADY Another. ADOLPHUS PENNYWORTH. ... An Exquisite. FELIX HARDING Maurice O'Donnell's Enemy. RAYMOND VIBERT Gypsy Captain, CARLO........ 1 DONTI V GypsVs. JOCKO ) i MR. PRESTON A Magistrate. M. DELANEY... A Farmer. CONSTABLE PEASANTS, OFFICERS, &c. ' o. / THE PRIDE OF KILLARNEY. AOT I. SCENE I.— A Wood. Barnit, Darbt, and a f:w Pbasants discovered t Hated or lying on the ground, BARNEY— Now Darby Qrady, upon my word I thought ye had more pluck in ye. What, roan ! Afraid to dance on the green as we need to do I Well you're a nice Irishman. DARBY — But, Barney, are'ut the Constabulary prowlin* about lookin' for offenders agin the law, an' does'nt the new law forbid daneiii' on the green, meetin's, an' speech-makin' t BARNEY — Begorra Darby, if the Qo^emmeut thinks that such a law will be obeyed,it should be out in Africa chasin' niggers for a livin ; for while there's a breath left in the lung of an Irishman, he'll stand up like a m .a an' defy aiiy government that thinks it can muzzle him as if he was a dog ! PEASANTS— (in chonis). Hear, hear, Barney, keep it up ! DARBY — Perhaps ytr right, Barney, but it was only the other day that a lot of the boys an' girls were harin' a bit of a danee, when down came the constabulary an' ordered every one of them to their homes. BARNEY— An' did they go ? DARBY— What else could they do ? Sure it's not arrested they'd want to be I BARNEY — Faith if they had any pluck in them they'd soon teach the police that the green fields of Ireland were made for Irishmen, an' not for a pack of tbievm' landlords an* thbir rascally servants, the constabulary. Oh begoira, if one of the spalpeens would only show hi» nose this minute, I think I'd beat him within an inch of his life ! DARBY — (looking !»,) Then be the powers ye've got yer wish for here comes one of them ! {Enler Constable L.) CONS. — Here, you fellows, no loitering allowed here. Move along f BARNEY— Hold on a minvte Who is it that orders us about as if we were omadhauns ? CONS.— I order you. , BARNEY— An' who the divil are you ? CONS. — No insolence, for I wont stand it. Get away with you ! BARNEY— Wait a bit. Who gives you ytr orders ? CONS. — The law, and I am its representative. BARNEY — Boys, look at the representative of th^aw. Look at it so that ye'U know it again. Ha, ha, ha, but it's the law that's hard up for representatiTes when it picks out the like of you to do its v/ork. CONS. — Another word and you'll be my prLsouer. Men, 1 call upon '" you in the name of the law to disperse o; sufft$r the coubequenc»s ! BAKNKY — Then Mr. Man-of*Law we'll suffer the cuns^queuces, but as I'm a livin' man it's yerself that'll suffer more than we will. {Seizes Conbtablk and. tripa him.) 80 ye'll order u^ to disperae, will ye ? (Holding him dotun.) Faith we'll show ye how we obey yer law. Boys, bring a rope till we tie his heels. {EtUer Mb. O'Donnbll, L) . Mr. 0*D. — What ii this ? Barney, you rascal, what are you doing ? BARNEY— Faith yer honor, I'm only layin' down the law. Mb. O'D. — Let the man go this minute ! • BARNEY— WeJI since it's Mr O'Donnell that orders it I'll obey, but I'd rather take some of the law-consate out of him. {Releases Cons, who rises.) , CONS. — Yon scoundrel, you'll pay for this ! Mb. O'D. — Tut, tut, man ; the boy meant no harm. Leare matters aa they are. CONS. — Leare matters as they are ! I'll have erery one of them in jail in an hour ! I'll teach them to have respect for the law, the young ▼agabonda — {Slops siuidenly as Me O'D. places in his hand a piece of silver ) Thank yon ; sir, thank you. It'll be all right. I know the young fellow meant no harm. It was only a joke— only a joke, sir. Qood-day, sir, good-day ahd thank you, sir. {Touches his hat and exit R.) Mb. O'D. — Barney, 1 would advise you to keep your hands off the law in future or it may prove stronger than you. Have you seen Maurice down this way ? BARNEY— No, Mr. O'Donuell, he has';at been around since We have be^n here. Mr. O'D.— {Moving to R.) I will find him below, I suppose. Re- member what I said, Barney,— take care of the law. {Exit R.) " BARNEY - Begorra boys, Mr. O'Donnell spoiled our fun. Did ye aee the law puttin' out its fist an' puUiu' in its tongue when it saw the money ? Bad cess to the law, say I ) DARBY — Never mind the law, Barney, but tell me what's the matter with young Masther Mj^rice ? BARNinr— Faith I don't know Darby, but I must say that there is somethiiig wrong. Him that used to be so jolly an' light hearted is now rd up for call apou I ! ei, bnt as .) Faith re tie his I doing ? obey, but e matters if them in he youD^ silver) he youug [Jood-day, is off the n Maurioe m We have )08e. Re- Did ye we t saw the ;h« matter fit there %8 :ed is now 5 - However it's Hone of ear business to Hello ! What's that I hear I \ like a man that was goin' to die. pry into the masther's troubles. ( Voices heard singing :) Siog ho, for a gypsy life. No worry, nor care, nor strife. But the emerald green, and the glittering sheen. Of sparkling waters bright. And onward we stroll along. The forest re-echoes otir song, V • Which merrily tells to the listening dells. Our gypsy heart's delight. / Enter L. Carlo, Donti and Jooko.) CARLO~Ho, ho ! 1 thought we had the place to ouraelves. {To Barney.) Comrade, 1 liope we don't intrude ? BARNEY— Narry a bit, whoever ye are, »o long as ye don't come in the name of the lav/. I CARLO — Law ! Ha, ha, ha, who ever heard of a roviog gj'psy being on the side of the law ! {Cracks his fingers.) That for all the laws that were ever framed ! BARNEY — Then give me yer hand, for we get nothin' but law here, an' we're tired of it. ' ' {Shaking hands.) CARLO— So are we, comrade, for the law is always against us. {Looks Around.) What a splendid place for a gypsy camp The green woods, the ?ky fot a coveting, and a merry heart for the best or the worst that maj happen. I hope the woods are'lree to ail ? BARNEY — Faith an' they are, especially to boys that can sing as well as yerselvfcs ; au'as we're out here for a bit of divarsion, would ye miad givin'us a stave or two of the song ye were singiu'as ye came along I CARLO — With pleasure, comrade. Up lads for a song. {21ie gypsies sing :) I- - ■ ' We're gypsies three, and merry and free Is the rollicking life we lead ; The sky above is the cover we love, • And the air our only need. We skip along with an elfin song — Our hearts as light and gay As the soaring lark or the amorous spark Abroad on a Summer's day. OuoBUS — Then give us a gypsy life, &c. (—■ mmBam ',> • 6 II. We enry none, for ike glittering enn Glows alike on tke eons of earth ; Oar color is dark bnt humanity's spark Is bright at the gypsy's hearth. Our camp is as free as the tumbling sea And bright as the toppling foam And seen from afar, as a glistening star , Is the light from our gypsy home. Chorus :— Then give us &c. ' BARNEY — A capital song that, an'well sung too. {To Fiddlei.) Thade, me boy, would ye give us a bit of a jig or reel or somethin'for if we dont have a dance this miuute, then call me a haythen. Come Thade me son, up with a reel. (FiDDLEB plays a reel and all dance.) BARNEY — (After the dance.) Now, Mr. Gypsy come along with me, anTU show ye a place where ye can pitch yer tent au'live like lords. Come al«ng. (Exeunt R. Enter Felix Harding and Mauuiob, L) HARDING — Ha, ha, you have Tost a thomsand pounds, eh ? A pretty figure I must say ! MAURICE — Yes, and no matter which way I turn I see ruin staring me in the face. HARD — How is that ? Will not your father advance you the amount ? MAUR. — No, I will not ask my father, for the mention of Huch a sum would compel explanations that would reveal to him the fact that I had gambled. HARD. — Yes, of course. Then how about the money-lender ? MAUR — I have already been to see him but he refuses to help me. BARD. — That's bad. Well my dear Maurice you are in a fix. If your father should learn that you had gambled, he might send you adrift, for I know his opinion of such matters. Let me see— will not some of your friends lend you the amount ? MAITR. — 1 would ask none of them — that is I would ask only one, and that one is, yourself. HARD — I ? My dear fellow, I cowld'nt raise j^lOOO by to-morrow if my head were the forfeit f ' MAUR. — Then to-morrow I shall be dishonored. Maurice O'Donnell's name will be bandied about as that of a mined gambler — my fikther's honored name dragged in the mire of his son's disgrace. Oh, why have I brought ruin upon myself and sorrow to those I love ! ' HARD. — My dear fellow, you must not take it so badly. I said that I could not raise the amount at once, but in two or three days I oan place in your hands the necessary funds, and you can repay me at your leisure. IDDLEK.) lin'for if le Thade with me, ke lords. A prettj 11 staring imoant ? :h a sum ^ at I had me. fix. If adrift, I some of ^ne, and )rrow if mneirs l&ther's have I dd that plaoe lleisure. MAUR. — Harding, you are a good fellow, but in thia you oannot help me. The money must be paid tO'mo row. ^ HAKD. — There you are wrong, my impulsive fnend Mylei 0*8haagh- nessy, the man to whom you hare lost this amount} is my friend, and I am very lauch mistaken if I cannot induce him to wait a few daya. There is my hand on it. {Extends hand which Maurice grasps.) MAUfi,— Yon will do this t HARD. — Yes, I will, to give' you conclusive proof that the old animoe* ity between us is dead, and btiried with the past. MAUR. — My friend now and always ! Oh Felix, you do not know that from * 'liich you have saved me ! I cannot thank you— -Ood keep you till we meet again. {Exit il. hurriedly.) HAKD. — Fool ! Fool ! ! He is overcome with emotion at the thought of luy disinterested frieudabip. Have 1 forgotten the hatred I l>ear him ? Have I forgotten the blow he dealt me one yuur ago, and which slings me at this moment ? Have I forgotten that he has all but won the hand of Florence O'Driscoll ? No, I have not forgotten, and I shall never forget. "Why did I teach him to gamble ? Why have I bent every energy to get him within my grasp ? Because 1 hate him — bceause I wished to ruin him ! I shall drag him from his present place in the estimation of the people, and tie who is now the pride of Killarney, shall be its disgrace ! ;, {Eiitert L , Mylm O'Shanohnessy.) MYLES — Ah, Harding, the very m:in I want ! Felix, my boy, have you heard of last night's doing^at the club ? HARD. — Yes Myles, if you refer to the losses sustained by our mutual friend, Maurice O'Donnell. MYLES — The very thing, the very thing, my boy. I caught him to the extent of j^lOOO, and I've given him till to-morrow to pay up, or — you know the rest. HARD. — Then he wont pay up for he eannot. MYLES— How do you know ? HARD. —He has not half the sum at hand. He dare not appeal to his father, and the money-lender has refusad to aid him. MYLES — Indeed ! Faith then he's in a bad fix, and I'm beginning to feel sorry for the lad. You should have seen him last night as he reeled from the room like a drunken man. By George ! I think I'll give him a week to pay up, — or a monti- if he likes. HARD. — Then, Myles 0'8haughnes8ey, you have a bad msmory. Do you forget that this Maurice O'Donnell is the man who accused you of cheating ? Do you forgive that ? MYLES — Upon my word I believe I do, and if I remember ri;^htly I did cheat, but it was at your suggestion, and I think I would forffivs the boy if he had thrown me into the first bog we met. Upon my hdnw I I, I !; I! i 8 (iont know wlint you have aguiubt the Ud that inukeH you so bitter. Faitii I'll go aiui toll Ui^ii to luke h year to \my il he likes. (Movetio L.) Hard. — My licar friHiid, you seem tu rorg.>. {To PEASANTS.) :\ ,-^,' Boys, dont let them escape I j| - ,. / {To Carlo.) ' ^%-' Now, Mr. Gypsy, listen to me. A little while ago ye came among us an'we made ye welcome, as we would any strangers, but, ye, bad cess to ye, ye repay us by stealin' our property. {To Darby.) ^^ . 'T : ^ Darby, I'm goin'to thry them in the righ; style. " v. ■ {To Carlo.) ' ' Prisoner at the bar 1^ /! .' t-^; v {To Darby ) , '.•' ^'■' ' ' ' Darby, divil a bar is there here, an'I wish there was, for I'm as dry as a frog. ' {To Carlo) ^ „ Prisoner at the bar, are ye guilty or not guilty t CARLO— Guilty of what ? BAR. — Of stealin 'a ham. CARLO — I stole no ham. ■'■*' II 5 it, they enter R ) ht an* loft jple goiug ['d like to their way We'll thry fan. I'll among us )ad cess to as dry as BAR. — Oh, I was forge ttin' — prisoner, have ye someone to defend ye, — for I dont want to hang ye without giviu'ye a chance ? , CARLO — Bring me before a court and TU defend myself. BAR. — It's agin the rules, au'uot a court will ye see except the one that's before ye. Darby I appoint ye as counsel for the prisoner. DAR — But, 'Barnej^ sure I dont know anythiug about law I BAR. — Faith an' that'll make ye all the more like a lawyer. Prisoner, yer accused of stealiu'a ham ; are ye guilty or not guilty ? CARLO— I'm not guilty. BAR. — Then what were ye doin'in Micky Delaney's barn ? • Answer that. DARBY — Barney, if I'm to be the prisoner's counsel, I miust object to that question. BAR. — An'why do ye object ? v ;'s DARBY — Because yer fishin'for evidence ! BAR. — Fishin' for evidence ? But was'nt he in Micky's bam, an'- was'nt he seen v ith the ham under his arm ? DARBY—Who saw him ? Vv BAR. — Micky himself saw him. •, '* DARBY — Well then, let Micky give bis evidence. , * BAR. — Micky Delaney, come here. . . , ,\ (M.10KY (ip2)roache8.) . , ,. i Micky, tell us all ye know about the stealiu'of the ham. MICK — Begorra I will. One of these fellows took the ham from the place where I had laid it. DARBY— Barney, I object. - ' BAR.— An'why Darby ? DARBY — Because we have no evidence to show that Micky laid the ham anywhere at all ! BAR. — But sure he says he did ! Go on, Micky, yer evidence is all right. * V ' ' MICK. — Well, I'm not sure if this is the man that took the ham for he does'nt stutther, an'the fellow that stole it, did. BAR. — Begorra, perhaps we're thryin'the wrong man ! Prisoner at the bar, d'ye stutther ? CARLO— No, I do not. . v BAR. — Then who the divil does stutther ? JOCKO — Oh, s — 8— s — say, I did'nt s — s—s— steal the ham, I f-f-f- foun.l it. BAR. — Darby, I'm a Solomon ! See how I ftiscovered the guilty man I Come up here, you that stutthers. Now what have ye to say for yerself ? . • - ^ JOCKO— I just f—f— found the ham. BAR. — That's not the question. Yer guilty, an'ye know ye are, an'so do I. Yer sentence is that yer to be hanged till yer kilt, an'then yer to be transported for life. DAR.— Barney, I object. 'f7- ml I i' ! a man with ^ne eye could see that it's a ham, ye omi - 13 BAB.— Why, Darby ? DAR. — I want to see the ham, first. BAR.— Micky, bring the ham here ; now Djrby, what have ye got to say t ^ DAR.— (4^<€r looking at the ham.) I want ye to discharge tlie prisoner f BAR.i~To discharge him ! Whv ? ^ f DAR.— Because he's charged with stealiu'a ham, an'ye say chat this is what he stole f . {Holding vp the ham.) BAR. — Yes, so it is. DAR.— Wei! then, ye must discharge him, for there is no proof before us that thi^ is a ham at all I BAR— But dhaun ! DAR. — Yes ; but the proof, Bainey, the proof ! BAR Micky, there, *11 prove it. DAR.— We'll sec. Micky Delaney, what is this ? (The ham.) MICK— It's a ham. DAR. — How d'ye know it's a ham ? MICE — Sure anyone 'd know it ! * ^ DAR. — Micky, tell us what a ham is. MICK— It's the hind leg of a pig. DAR —Very well. Now, ye say that a ham is the hind leg of a pig, an' in that way ye prove that this is a ham ? MICK— Yes; I do. DAB^ — {Producing a note ) Well, look here now ; this it a letter I received to-day. Tears off a piecef which he hands to Micky.) Now, tell me : What is that piece of paper ye hold in ya hand ? MICK. — Why, it's a piece of a letther. . DAR.^How d'ye know? MICK — Because I saw ye tear it off ! ' DAR.— An' how would ye prove that it's part of a letther ? MICKY — By joiuin' it to the piece ye have in yer hand. DAR.^-^1 right ; by joinin' the two together ye'd prove that that was apart of a letther. Very well, then ; go and get the pig that that leg was taken from, join the two together, an' then ye'U prove that it's the hiud leg of a pig, but not before. Barney, discharge the prisoner I BAR^— Prisoner at the bar, yer counsel has saved yer life. Yer charged with stealin' this ham, but he has proved that it isn't a ham at all, an' if we let him ger*on, he may prove that a pig is a goat, an' that we're detoended from jackasses. Yes, yer di8charg(^, but I warn ye to leave the country at once, for if yer found here to*morrow, the law must take its course. . Come now, off with ye, an' whether this is a ham or an ekpfetant* ye'U leave it behind ye. Micky Delaney take yer ham, or whAtevef it it. Boys, disperse the prisoners \ {Pea^tants rush Gypsies off, R) ^e ye got to ischarge tlie ihat this is proof before lam, ye omi - lam.) leg of a pig, it a letter I ICKY.) Now, •? ;hat that waa that If g was it's the hiud ll 8T life. Yet I't a ham at ftt, VDt that I warn ye to the law must a ham or an yer ham. or BAR. — Darby, yer a lawyer, every inch of ye, an* I'm proud of ye ; the way ye haudled that esse was snrprisin', an' I'll go bail that when ye die, if ye have the misfortune to go below, ye'll prove that the divil him* self is a very dacent fellow, an' ye'll end by cheatin' him out of his rights. , DAR —Faith, then, Barney, if I did that, it'd be all the better for you. Come down to Pat Flaniiagau's, an' we'll get the taste 0^ that ham out of our mouths, for, be the powers, it was a very salty ham. ( yfhiU Darby speaks they move to L. Enter, L., Myles ) BAH. — Mr. O'Shaughnessy, what in the world is the matter with ye t MYLES — Matter with me ! Boy, your young mister is in danger; that scamp Harding is hatching Home deviltry, and, perhaps, by this time he has brought it to a head. Have you seen Harding about here ! BAR. — No, I have not. MastPf Maurice, ye say, is in danger from Felix Harding ? What'U we do ? How will we save him ? MYLES— We must find Harding, and at once. I don't know what he intends to do, but whatever it is, depend upourjt, poor Maurice will suffer. Come, we may save him yet I (ExitK) BAR.— Darby, did ye hear that ? Master Maurice in danger from Harding ! Come, an' with that tongue of yours, prove that Harmng is a scoundrel, an' by the mortal powers, I'll do the hangiu' ! {Exeunt f R.) SCENE III.— Room in Mr. O'Donnell's House. Mb. O'D. dis- covered alone, seated. MR. O'D. — I wonder what is the maf^er with Maurice ? Of late he has been acting strangely. Demand after demand for money has been met by me without a question, but it must slop. He has already exceeded a generous allowance by many hundreds of pounds. (Takes some letters from his pocket and proceeds to open them.) Well, well, young men are extravagant nov7adays. However, for his own sake, I will have a talk with him. {Begins to read a letter.) What is this ? Only a few lines, but, heaven ! What da they moan ? / {Reads) " Dear Mr. O'Donnell, / ** Look to your son. A report is current in certain circles that of late he has been losing heavily at the gaming-table. Save him while there is time. (Signed) " A Friend." Is this — can this be the explanation ? No, this hak been written by some enemy. A friend would boldly face me and not sting me thus anony- mously. Mauric6 would never stoop to win or lose money as a common gambler. {Crumples tJie note.) Such friends are 'not to be trusted, and •Maurice shall not be condemned Upon this evidence., {Throws paper on floor. A knock at the door followed by the en* tfonee of Rajkdivq,) !■« m < : I i ill''' • ll!i ( i lii tN 14 HABD.— Oood*ni|(ht, Mr. O'Dor ^ell. I hope jou do not consfder it too late for a visitor ? Mfi. O'D.— Not at all, my dear Felix, espeoially for yon. Take a teat. HARD.—Lwonld that I were not the bearer of bad news, lir. O'Don- nell, but friendship for you overcomes every consideration. MB. O'D — What is wrong* Felix ? Ha« that wild boy, Maurice, got himself into another scrape ? HARD. — Alas, yes, and out of which I cannot help him. MR. O'D.— -Felix, there is something serious behind this. Let me know it. HARD.— YeSi indeed, there is ; and, although it will shock and pain you, yet you must hear it. To all my intercessions, to all my prayers, Maurice nas turned a deaf ear ; for a time I thought all would be well, but I was mistaken. Maurice has been a member of a certain club for some time, and there he has learned to— to gamble. MR. O'D.^ — To gambit ! Maurice learn to gamble ! HARD.— Alas ! It is tc ; true. Hoping that I might win him back, I had refrained from telling you of this, but I was wrong — I should have told you earlier. MR. O'D. — Yes, Felix, but I know you have acted from the best mo- tives. Maurice a gambler t And only a few moments ago I called that letter a lie ! (Riset — taking a few steps,) Yes, in my pride, I said that an O'Donnell would not thus lower him- self, and flow I am punished. But it* is not too late. We will save him, you and I, my dear Felix. We will save him from those who have led him astray. It is hot too late yet, Felix» it is not too late. HARD. — Oh, heaven, that someone else could giv^ my message ! MR. 0*D. — Felix, there is something worse untold 1 I see it in your face! HARD. — Yes, my poor friend, but he was not in his right mind— he could not have meant the words he said ! MR. O'D.— What is this ? Felix, for God's sake* speak ! HARD.— I must tell all. Maurice, poor fellow, has been ensnared by villains. Last night he lost the sum of j^lOOO. Maddened, not by his loss, but at thought of your anger, and fearing to faoe you, he has de- cided to — oh, I cannot say it 1 MR. 0*J).— (Clutching his arm.) You must ! You shall not leave this room till I hear all. Speak, I command you ! HARD.—Then I obey. Maurice has planned to rob you and flee L MR. O'D.— Did I hear aright ? To rob me, his father ? Maurice to rob me ! 'Tis a lie, Felix Harding— a black lie I HARD. — Would to heaven that it were ! But my own ears have heard him avow his intention. Hearing of bis trouble I looked for, and found him. Poor fellow, he had been dtinking to drown his remcrse, and, in Iii4 ,1: consider it 1. Take a llr. O'Don- !aarice, got I. Let me >k and pain ay prayers, lid oe well, in clnb for lim back, I ihould have [le best mo- called that lower him- |1 save Lim, have led sage I it in your mind — he isnared by lot by his |he has de- not leave iflee !. Laurice to lave heard »nd fdand and, in ' 15 his weakness, he told me what I have told yon. This very night he has determined MR. O'D. — And did you, his friend, allow him his liberty, after what yon had heard ? HARD.— Aias ! I was Compelled to leave him, for when I attempted to reason with him he drove me away at the point of a pistol ! , MR. O'D. — Ah, this is strange. 1 cannot understand it all. My head whirls. My mind is confused. HARD. — I will stay with you, my dear old friend, and if the unfor- tunate boy should keep his word Mr. O'D — No, no, Felix. I must moet him, alone. I am his father and will control him. Lrave me, now, my boy, and forgive me if I have said anything to hurt you. HARD.— If you insist, 1 must obey, but I would willingly l«>se my right hand to be of service to you MR. O'D. — I know it, Felix, 1 know it ; but leave me now— I must' be alone. Oood-night, and thank you for your warning. Maurice may come, but I will manege him. Good night. (6e«» him to door. Exit Harding. Mr. O'D seats hinself, back to R. door.) MR. O'D.— So this !8 the explanation — the terrible explanation of my son's strange conduct — this the reason for his many demands for money, and I ignorant of it all until now. Do I believe Felix ? I must until I find he has lied. And he has been Maurice's true friend for years — they have been like brothers. But if 1 believe him, then I must look upon Maurice as a scoundrel, unfit to be called a man. How do I take it so coolly ? Why do I not go mad at the very thoujc^ht ? Is it all a hideous dream, and will Maurice walk in with his light step and cheery smile ? Ah, his step has been heavy and his smile has been gone for many weeks past ! Will I awake in the morning and hear Maurice calling me for a canter before breakfast, or. Oh God ! will he steal in like a thief with dark thoughts in his heart ? No, Maurice, no, you could not do this ter- rible thing I {Bows his head Enter Raymond R. door. He approaches Mr. 0'D„ and taking a handkerchief from ^his pockety envelopes Mr, O'D's face with %t. O'D. rises and struggles, but Raymond prevents him from twrning, so that he cannot recognize his assailant MR. O'D. — {Struggling, partially frees his mouth.) Maurice, Mau- rice, take the money — take all I have but do not dsmn your soul with murder ! Release me,, release me, Maurice, you are killing me I Take th^ money> the money, take it (Hit voice dies away grhdually, then he lies inert in Raymond'' t arms. The latter lays him on the floor, and disappears through R. door. He returns with keys, opens the safe, takes out a handful of bills which he scatters on the floor. He also throws the handkerchief there, then exit thr*f* R. door. Steps are heard and enter Mavriob •I'M f i! - i •h'll liiiii i6 \ than sufficient to Take them — take I'H; ilATTR I thought I heard cries ! ^ {8ee9 hit father and throws himself on his knees beside him, raising his head.) Good'^eaten I Cblorofonn I Father, father, speak to ine I 'Tis Maurice who calls. Oh. God, is he dead f No, thank hearen he breathes I Father, it is I, Maurioe ! {Hs assists Mr. O'D., to a chair on which the latter sits. He appears dazed. Svadderuy he looks to the floor, sees the bOlS'-then to the safe He rises and confronts Maurice. MB. O'D. — So you have suddenly repented t Yon were not sufficiently steeped in guilt to eonsummate your crime ! {Points to the bills on the floor.) Take them. There are over a j^lOOO there,— more release yon and take yon from my sight forever. , them, and go ! ' {Points to door.) MAUB —Father, for God's sake tell me what you mean ! A robbery has* beei. attempted and you have been chloroformed ; but your wild woMs MR. O'D.— ^top ! not another word. You are a consummate actor, and now that you arc foiled, you seek to shir d yourself. I know all. Your gambtiog lifo has been exposed. Your immediate Leed for a j^lOOO is known to me. Deny it if you dare. Invent some quick lie. Deny it ! MAUR —Father I cannot, for alas! it is true. But of this crime, which I now see you accuse me, yes, before Heaven I swear that I am guiltless ! MR. O'D. — {Picking up handkerchief) Forbear — forbear! Do not perjure yourself before that Heaven^ which you invoke. Look at this chloroform — soake I handkerchief; See your initials in the comer, worked, yes, worked by your mother's loving fingers. Look at it and deny that it is yours. A^, you start ! Out of my sight ! Away from a father's curse ere it fall from my lips- You are no loDger a son of mine. I cast you off, forever. G'i » ^ - {Points to door.) MAUR. — Father, listen to me. I know not why you think me guilty of this crime 1 acknowledge my fault ; 1 have wandered from the path of rectitude ; I havtj sullied my own honor, but never have I raised my hand against my %ther. Speak as cruelly as you wish^-I deserve it, but do not charge me with this crime. MR. O'D - Who, then, has done it ? What guilty hand has rifled that safe ) Why was not the money carried off ? I will tell you : you saw your father lying h"lplP8% — you saw the evidence of your own, woA. You thought that you had killed me. Fear stayed your flight and you could not carry out your base intention. You are free ; the law shall not lay its heavy hand upon you, but from this moment you are astrauger tome. Yoa aro disowned ! \ im, raiting > me ! 'Tid heaven he He appears -then to the )t suflBciently sufl&cient to them— take 1 A robbery at your wild mmate actor, 1 know all. I for a j^lOOO e. Deny it ! f this crime, ar that I am )ar ! Do not Look at this mor, worked, id deny that ' om a father's iue. I cast ^k me gailtv ^om the path I raised my 3serve it, bat jd baa rifled ^ you : yow t owu> work, thl and yon l» law ahall aetraoger MAUR.— Father, hesitate before yon do this. Believe me, believe me gniltless. By the memory of that woman you so loved — by the memory of my dead mother, I oonjure you to hear me,. to believe me '•■ MB. O'D. — What I Your false tongue dares to utter your mother's name ! Oh, Qod ! I thank thee for having called her away, thus saving her the knowledge of her son's disgrace. "Wretched boy, your appeal shall not weaken my purpose. Speak no more, but go ! liAUR — Yes, I will go. Your terrible mistake ha s AOT II. SC£NB I —Tub Gtpst Enoampment. Harding and Raymond discovered. RAY. — Yes, it was a lucky piece of business for me — and for you too. Il earn i^OO, and you get rid of a fellow you hate, and clear the road to |ti\e affections of a wealthy girl. Ha, ha, ha, upon my word it vxis lucky Ifor both ! HARD. — Not so loud my friend Raymond — some one may be prowling ibout. ' \ RAY. — Little fear of that, especially at this hour, so you may speak freely. ^ HARD. — Well, this fellow O'Shaughnessy will cause trouble. RAY. — He will, for when he left here, he swore a round oath that leM get eveu-with you. ^ HaRD. — Bah, the fool ! I couid out-man! 1'; ! Illll 1 Hi ff^^ff 18 HABD.— Yat, 'tiq he. Be oarefal that a word may not betray the truth. BAY.— Trust me. I [Exit Harding L. ^fer Maurice R ] KAUB.— Do I apeak to Raymond Yibert f BAY I am the man. MAI3B.— I received a note from you to-day, telling me that you krjew something about that which has happened at my father's house. You are a perfect stranger to me BAY. — ^And naturally you think that my object is money, but if so, you are wrong. I simply desire to punish a villain. And now to my story : Last night a stranger came here and offered me money if I would undertake to do a certain work— a piece of robbery. 1 refused. MAUR — Who was he ? Can you tell me his name f BAY. — No, but what I have to tell may point to the man. He left' me, and about half an hour later I saw him again. He was in the wood yonder, aod in conversation with another man. Both appeared -to be angry, and I heard this fellow utter an oath and say : <* Mo, I'll grant no delay, and as he cant pay the jflOOO, I'll iind means of putting him where he won't call a decept man a thief and a sheat !" MAUR.— Ah ! And what followed ? RAY. — A few heated words, and then this fellow was struck by the other and felled to the ground. When I reached the spot, the one who had struck the blow was gone, and the other was getting to his feet. He left the place at once, swearing vengeance upon his assailant and U))on you, Maurice O'Donnell. Tuis morning I learned your sad story, and my note to you was the result. Whether that man succeeded in getting one of my follower^ to do his work, I know not, but J am deserted by my people — they have fled. i MAUR. — Would you know this man ? RAY. — Yes, a short, thick-set man with a florid complexion. MAUR. — Myles O'Shaughnessy — cheat and villain I Raymond Vibert, you have done me a mighty service. Th'^ crime of which that man is guilty has been charged to me. It has driven me from my lather's house— an outcast and wanderer. But now my father will believe ; now my friends will not tupi from me with loathing. I am free ; I am a man once more, and I owe this to you I , (Ora^i R's hand.) RAY. — And I am happy to be able to do you a service. MAUR.— ^Tken will you come with me at once and ^coqiplete it by bringing the crime home to the perpetrator ? RAY. — I regret that Itanhot come to-night butf you may claim me at any hour to-morrow. MAUR. — That will do. To-morrow, then, Myles O'Shaughnessey shall pay lor his dastardly crime, and I will owe you a debt which I can never repay. Good-bye till the morning. BAY.— I will see yen to your boat. 01 V' 19 betray the at you krjew ise. You are jr, but if HO, I now to my ly if I would isod. lan. He left' iu the wood speared -to be iio, ril grant putting him atruok by the the one who Ihis^eet. He int and u|)on lid story, and ed in getting deserted by lon, mond Vibert, that man is my lather's relieve ; now I am a man iplete it by claim me at [haughnessey which I can {Exetmtt R. Enter Barhkt, h.^ as from the rwtr.] BAR.— Well, of all the two-faced divils I ever met, that fellow if tha worst. I've heard his story, an' ai sure as my name is Barney Rafferty, there isn't a word of truth in it. Poor Maather Maurice is in the hands of tile enemy^ an' the name of that enemy is not Myles O'ShaughnessT, but Felix Harding, an' he's got the divil in the shape of a gypsy to help him, an' here he comes horns an' all. \ [Hides behind a roek. Re-enter Rat R.] RAY — Already I begin to weaken. The sight of that young fellow's honest face, as he clasped my hand in gratitude, has upset me. He is a stranger to me ; he has never done me an injury, yet I have helped Felix Hard- ing to blast his, existence. Bah ! this won't do. I want money and money I must have, if I had refused the job, Harding would have found another to do it ; and, besides, Harding is now my master. If I do not carry out our agreement, he can give me into the hands of the police. Yes, I'll stick to my story and let this fellow O'Shaugbnessy fight it out with Maurice O'Donnell. [Enter Barnst.] ! BAR. —An' you, me fine gypsy blackguard, will fight it out with me I RAY. — Who are you, and what brings you here ? BAR. — Faith, I'm what you are not — a decent man. That's for yer first question, an' the second I'll answer with another : What brings Felix Harding here ! RAY. — That is his business and mine. BAR. — Ah, it is, eh ? Look here, Mr. Gypsy, will ye stick out yer left foot? f RAY. — What do you mean, fellow ? BAR. — Oh, I just want to see if it's true that the divil has a hoof in- stead of a foot on his left leg. RAY.— You insolent scoundrel 1 If you don't take yourself from here this moment, I'll kick yon into the river. BAR.— Kick me into the rjiver ! Begorra I'd like to see ye kick with that hoof. Is it a horse-shoe yon wear on it ? RAY. — Are you a fool or a knave ? ^ BAR.— Well, I don't know. Me father and mother were wise an' honest enough, but I have an uncle that looks like you, an' they say I took after him. RAY.— Enough of this foolery. What are you doing here ? BAR.— Standin', talkin' to Beelzebub, but I have something to show ye. [Produces a horn.] Did you ever see that before t RAY.— Where did you get that ? BAR.— I found it this momin' outside of a window of Mr. O'Donnell's house. Yes, ye murderin' mfiian, ye thought ye had yer tracks well coveroflf but ye left this trace behind ye. mmmm mmr"^^ ill ! I ifr- ■11 Hi 'i'l!i: lilt 20 RAJT. — [Pulling a short cane from inside his cont.] Give me that trumpet ! BAfi. — Begorra ye're got a shillelah, an' I have ouly me handtt, but shillelah or not, that trumpet'll stay with me. [Throws tlie horn beside him. Ray nw/i«« on him, striking him on tfie head. BARNit staggers. ^AiuotiD picks up the horn and rttshes out, L. BAR.— [ With his hands to his head.] What is this I Me head is reelin' an' me senses are leaving me! I can't see I Where is the gypsy ? Where is the cowardly villain ? Masther Maurice, Masther Maurice I 'Twas the gypsy robbed yer father ! Don't let him escape ! Catch him Maurice, the tipsy (Staggers and fa4ls.) SCENE II.— A Road. {Enter R. Mtlbs and Adolphts: MYLES — Confound it, mau, the boy would never do such a thing ! ADOL. — Then, my dear fellow, why did his father send him adrift I Surely \ie must have evidence against him, don't ye know. MYLES— Yes, he has had some sort of evidence, but of what nature I do not yet know. However, be it what it may, that scamp Harding has manufactured it. ADOL. — What ! Felix Harding ? One of the most honored members of the Atboeneum Club ! My dear Myles, as sure as my name is Adol- phus Pennyworth you are mistaken, don't ye know ! MYLES— Not a bit of it. Harding was and is Maurice O'Donnell's worst enemy. Last laght the scoundrel tried to cajole me i^to giving a hand in some plot or other to ruin Maurice, and now I am sorry I didn't find out all he meant But instead of being a sensible mau I told him what I thought of him, and he gave me a blow that nearly fixed me. Bad luck to the oily villain ! I'll horse- whip him the first time we meet I ADOL, — My dear O'Shaughncssy, you frighten me, really you do, don't you know. If Harding be guilty, we can have him put in the lock-up * but if you horse-whip him, 'twill be a dreadful scandal, ye know. f. (Looks to L.) OB, Jupiter Pluvius ! here he eomes. My dear Myles, proii'ise me not to make a scene. I dream of everything 1 see, ye know, and I talk about it in my sleep, and really 'twill destroy my nerves. Do keep cool, that's a good fellow. (Enter Habd. L.) MYLES.— Ah, you cold-blooded scoundrel, we've met again ! ADOll. — (Caichinp Myles* arm ) Now, my dear Myles, let him pass, really you must ! (To Harding.) Go away or he'll hurt you, for I can't hold him don't ye know. ' , ' MYLES.— (Shaking off Adol.) What have you to say for yourself, base viUain that you are 1 Was it not sufficient to have made a gambler ai ive me that e handH, but jf him ail 0^ n and rushes Me head is Vhere is the rice, Masther t him escape ! s. shathing ! d him adrift ? w. what nature V ^ Harding has lored members Dume is Adol- Ice O'Donnell's i|ito giving a sorry 1 didn't in I told him irly fixed me. ime we meet 1 you do, don't the lock-up • [know. Iron'ise me not Id 1 talk about lep cool, that's lin ! let him pass, on, foi^l can't ■ ■.>.■■'? for yourself, Lde a gambler of the young fHend who trusted you ? No, that wm not enough to satisfy your vile heart ! HAfiD >-Out of my way, or I'll treat you as I did before. ADOL.— {Again seizing Mtlis.) Oh, Myles, good Myles, let him go, and we'll have the police tokehim, don't ye know ! • MYLES— No ; that did not fill the measure of your hatred to him. You hatched some fiendish plot, the outcome of which is that the poor fellow is driven from his father's house. His former friends believe him guilty, but I do not, and as sure as there is a sky above us I will know the truth, if 1 have to choke it from you ! ADOL —{Stepping between them.) — FeJix Harding, go home or he'll choke you ! He wilj, upon my honor, don t ye know ! HARD. — {To Adol.) Don't meddle in affairs you know nothing about. ( To Mtles.) Yes, the truth shall be known, and Maurice O'Doonell shall learn it ere many hours pass. ADOL.--Oh, bless my stars if they don't eat each other's heads off ! I must run for help before they're killed I Runs off L. Enter Ma^riob B. He seizes Myles, wheeling him around.) MAUR — Ha, at last I have found you I Now, and here, you will answer for last night's work ! MYLES. — /auswer for it Maurice ? What do you meant* Has this vretch dared to insinuate that I MAUR. — That wretch- as you call him is my friend. Because I once called you -a cheat — in the heat of passion — you nover forgave me, but sought and have effected my ruin. Now you ask me what I mean ! MYLES — Boy, yon are mad I There is the man who has plotted^ 1 against yon. There is the false villain who swore last night to destroy you, and because I told him I would warn you, he stru'^k me to fhe earth aud I was. Unable to-thwart his villainous designs. He has always jappeared as your friend, but has been false as Satan and he' knows it. HARD. — I do not know it, my dear fellow; but I do know that last [night I tried to persuade^ you to give Maurice a little time in which to )ay j^lOOO you had won from him. You refused, and in such a manner that I very properly knocked ycu down, and you, aud no other, are the lau who h&~. brou;;;ht this trouble upon my poor friend, Maurice^ {Enter Babnby R, with head bound up\) BAR. — That's a lie ! Yes, ye miserable spalpeen it's a lie ! MAUR. — Barney, what does this mean ? What is the matter ? BAR. — I'll tell ye. The gypsy that that divil employed to rob yier father, knocked me on the head because I had found out that he was the tan we were after. {To Fblix ) Yes, ye two-faced limb of the divil, rer fixed now, for the cat's out of the bag ! MAUR — Felix Harding, do you hear this man ! HARD. — I do, but he is beneath contempt I If you believe the story lest men tell you, then yon may. All I say is, believe it now and prove later. ■ * ' W' iliii it! 1;. liii 99 ■ ■ ' BAR. — Faith well prove it, for with me own ears I heard the gypay admit that ye had employed him HARD. — (Snapping his finger.)— Thni, for your eridenoc . As for yon, Maurioe O'Dounell, I would adviae you to out loose from saoh asaociates aa these. {Exit, L. Maubiob attemptt to spring after him, but %$ caught by liTLBS.) MYLSS.— Let him go now, Maurice. We oan find him when neoees* ary* and find him we will at the proper time. MAUR.— The false villain— the traitor friend ! Myles, a short while ago, a gypsy told me a tale that pointed to yon as the wroug'doer, but I understand it all, now. This gypsy, Raymond Vibert hy name — BAR. — The rery man 1 MAUR — Yes, this Raymond Vibert is the one who entered my fother's house, at Harding's instigation. How blind I have been I O'Shangh- nessy, ean yon forgive me I MYLIS — Faith I can, my boy, and what's more, I do, and there is my hand to prove it. {Shake fuinds.) MAUR. — O'Shaughnessy, that villain will attempt to escape. He knows that overwhelming proof is on your side. He has made me an outcast from my father's house. He has done his utmost to destroy me, and he shall' not escape ! {Rwii out L.) MYLES. — Bam^, my boy, we must follow this hot-headed Maurioe, for if he overtakes Harding, fa?th there'll be wigs on the green. Come, we will follow him. ^ {Exeunt L.) SOENE III The River-baKk. A rock at Centre, Ratmokd discovered alone, RAY.— Hang the fellow ! Why does'nt he come f What if he should play me false ! He dare not i I wonder if I killed that fellow who found the trumpet ? I dont know and I dont care. ' {Produces trumpet.) ^ Her^, you'll never appear as a witness against me. {Throws it into the river.) This place is getting too warm for me. I'll get my money out of Harding, and then bid good bye to the country. Ah, who are these fellows ? {Hides behind rock. Enter Mylbs and Barney, R.) MYLES —Well, I'm blessed if I dont think the earth has epened and swallowed both of them ! Where can they have disappeared to ! BAR.— We must have taken the wrong road at the orossin ! Let ui go farther up the river bank where the other roads meet. as ind there ia MYLES— The Tery thing, Atf the lukd ia high and we o«ii aae ftroond na. Oome on. (Exit L. Re-enter Ray.) BAY.--Hft f the fellow that I atruok I Who are tbty following t Can it be that they ar? after me and Harding t [Enter Hardiho R.) '* RAY. — Yon hare come at laat, eh ? I was nearly tired waiting. HARD. — Huah, speak low, for onr enemies ha?e jnst paaaed t RAY. — I know it, for I both heard and aaw them. HARD. — Maurice O'Donnell and O'Shanghneaay kuowHhe truth. RAY. — I know that too, for the fellow with the bandage on his head is the one that attacked me. HARD —Well, let ua aettle matters and each of ua go his way. I owe you jflOO. Here is the money. {Hands money.) RAY —A hundred pouuds I Yes, two hundred and ftfty. The barif^in was ^00, and I have rftceived only fifty. HARD — I dont ca*« what you got, but this is all I have, and this is all you'll get. {Enter Mauriob. Hearing voices he approaches the rock and listens,) RAY. — Have you gone crazy ? ' Are you not aware of what I can. do f Give me what you promiaed and I will disappear so that they can prove nothing against you. But refuae and I stay. You know what that means t HARD. — Yes, it would mean about ten years of prison life for you, while I, kno'ving your intention, could easily set out of harm's way. RAY. — Look here, Felix Harding, I feel reckless and you will do well to listen to me. I went into that house at your bidding. I had to use that poor old man harshly. I heard him call upon hie son to release him — to take the money, but not to murder his father. To suit your purpose I let him think that I was his son. You had paved the way for him to think so. He struggled but was too feeble to overcome me. I pressed my fingers on his throat that his voice might not be heard . MAUR. — {Springing forward.\ — Yes, villain, and now you will suffer for it 1 {Springs upon Raymond. Habdimo runs out L. Maitbiob and Ray- mond struggle and Maurice is throvm. Raymond prt a sigu of ijf. Be the le lakes of >ry strauge, ke a Dieua- liim have been w. [y, for he's [queer tale ' and I shouted, |iis so ? it believe Ind ? hear the I see if ited—-by lile I try low ] {Exit E. Bakn£T iteps to L ) BAR, — Are ye comin', Darby ? ' ^, {Enter Darby L.) DARBY— Yes, what is it ye want ? BAR — Faith I have .a London swell hire that wants to hear the echo. Darby, we'll give him all the echo he wants, wont we ? DARBY— (Pointing to R.) Is that him with his back turned this way? , . ^ BAR. — The very man. DARBY— Oh, Barney, Barney, yer the divil for tricks. Yes, we'll give him the echo, Barney, we'll give him the echo. Ha, ha, ha ! {Exit Dasbt. Barney stepn ^o R.) BAR. — Ye can come back now, Mitther ; all is ready. {Re-enter Adol.) ADOL. — Aw, you're very kind to take all this trouble, don't ye know. What shall I say ? ^ BAR. — Anything at all that comes itito your head, only speak out loaf ADOL. — Aw ? Which of these are the lakes of Eillamey ? DARBY— (ITie echo)— Vitch him into the lakes O'Killamey. ADOL.— (!Z'o Barney.)— Wh&t is that it said ? BAR. — Begorra it answered ye all right ADOL.— I'll try again— Is it cold in the hills ? DARBY— Hft has a cold in his gills. ADOL. — Wonderful— ^wonderful ! Once more. — What causes my voice to travel ? - DARBY — There's tn omadhaun's voice on the gravel. ADOL. — {To Barney.) Really, I dont understand it, ye know. I dhnt think it repeats Correctly. BAR. — Faith it said every word after ye, as plain as day. ADOL. — Ah, I must be mistaken — I'll test it again. I am going to siog this time. {Sings.) By the bower near the lake, there my love I vxiit for thee. • {No answer from the echo.) ADOL. — Aw, it does'nt answer ! BAR. — Oh it'll answer, never fear, only it's surprised at yer singin'. DARBY — By the powers near lite lake there's a coon thafs all at sea, ADOL.— That's aftonishing, but do you know, it has a veiy queer accent. BAR. — Man alive, sure it's an Irish echo, an'ye would'nt expect it to have an English brogue ! ADOL. — Oh, that's it, of course ; but I dont think it repeated the words 1 said. ' . ' BAR.— Faith that's nothin' strange, for when it's in the humor, it'll answer questions instead of repeatin'what ye say. Wait an'l'U try it. Are ye there ? ;^1 'i. ! § 1' I !H fill I liii!: ' 26 DARBY— Pm here. BJkR.~What'8 the time f DARBY — It's time ye'd let me aloDe, ye omadhavn. ADOL. — Is that the echo, really ? BAR. — Of coarse it is — did'nt ye hear it ? Listen again. — How many men are here on the bank ? DARBY One. BAR. — No, yer wrong ; try again — how many men are on the bank ? DARBY — Only one I told ye — the other's a dude. ADOL. — Oh don't ask it any more questions ; it's the devil, I think, that answers. BAR. — Begorra I think yer right ; anyhow there's a good deal of diril- tnent in it. ADOL. —Oh, I'm really frightened, dont ye know. You see, I'm very nervous and when I hear or see anything strange, I dream of it, and have nightmares yon know, and I talk in my sleep about it. BAR. — Ye talk in yer sleep ! How d'ye know that ? aDOL. — Oh, I've been told of it, you know, and at home in London, I have a padded room so that I wont annoy any one ye know. BAR. — Well begorra if ye waat to have a good healthy uightm^re, go down an'have a look at the Divils' Gap, where the gypsy was drowned two weeks ago. ADOL. — Where the gypsy was drowned ! Oh, no, no, no, dont ppeak of it, you terrify me ! , BAR.— What's the matter with ye ? ADOL It's nothing, it's nothing, but I'm nervous, and I tremble when I think of that dreadful murder. BAR.— Then ye've he&rd of it ? ADOL. — Why, yes, and they say that a poor young fellow by the name of O'Donnell committed the deed. BAR — Then they lie ! Masther Maurice ib as free from that crime as I am myself ! ^ . (Enter Mauricr, R , disguised as an old man ) MAUR. — The blessin'of an old man be upon ye for sayiii'those words. BAR — Thank ye kindly sir, for yer good wishes. Every man about here thinks as I do, an 'every one of them poinds to one man as the criminal. MAUR.— An'that man is ? BAR.— yFelix Harding, the scoundhrel ! MAUR. — Yes, scoundrel he is ; only for him the lad would ujw be in his father's house, instead of roamin'the world with the brand of Cam upon his brow ! ADOL. — Old man, do you know where Maurice O'Donnell is? Have yon se'en him lately ? MAUR. — I know where he went to, when he left here, but I must keep it a secret. ADOL. — Well, then, if you should meet kirn, tell him that Adolphns 1 I tremble V 27 , Pesoyworth believei him to be quite iunooent, you know, f must be going now, and I hope I'll meet you again, for I should like to hear from Maurice, you know. ^ BAR.— (To Adol ) Wait a minute anTllbe with ye. {To Mauricb.) • An'tell him too that there's a 1t)oy named Barney Bafferty that's keepin'au eye on Felix Harding. MAUR — I will, lad, I will, when I see him. God be with ye. {Exit Bakney and ADol. R. Enter Harding L. Mauriob advances to L., and collides with Hardiko ) HARD. — Look where you are going, old blockhead, and keep^ out of the way ! MAUR, — Ah, I beg yer pardon, sir ; I'm an old man :.ud cau't see very well, but I think by yer voice yer Mr. Hardfng. HARD. — Yes, I am Mr. Harding and I suppose, to get a few pennies, you will spin a yam about old friendship and so forth. {Throws a coin on the ground.) There, I don't want your yam. MAUR — An'I, Mr. Harding, don't want yer money. HARD. — No, not till my back is turned, then you will pick it up quickly enough. {]^0V€8 to B..) MAUR, — No, Mr. Harding ; if all yer money was in a pile there an 'not a soul to see me, I would'nt touch a penny of it, for there's blood upon it ! (Harding seizes Maur.) ' HARD. — What ! You dare to speak to me thus, old dotard. {Releases him.) But pshaw ! you rave. You know not what you say. MAUR. — Yes I do, for if Maurice O'Donnell comes to his death, it will be you who must answer to heaven for it ! HARD. — Old man, v.'hat do you know of Maurice O'Donnell ? MAUR — I know him since he was a child. I knew him as a niao, and I know that he is innocent of the crime you have charged hiru with. HARD — Bah, old fool ! Is that all you know ? If so, I advise you to bring your information to some other market for you'll make nothing of it here. , {Moves to R.) MAUR. — Stop ? I know more — at least I believe more HARD. — Well, what is this wonderful belief of yours ? MAUR — 'Tis that Maurice O'Donnell If iunoceut, and that you are the murderer of Raymond Vibert I HARD. — {Again seizing Maur.) Perdition seize you, old wretch \ {Enter R., Mylto O'Shaughnebsy carrying a whip,) MYLES.— Sooundrel, unhand that old man ! Ha, Felix Harding t X •'!■. i . !l!l|. ii M:. 2$ yoa would nae yoar strength against the aged and helpless ! Stand up there like a man, and use it against me ! ^ {Strikfis him with the whip. Hahding falls back. ) SCENE II.— Landsoadb. Enter Darby R DARBY. — Faith it*s better than a christenin' to be listeniu' to that half idiot Adolphus Pennyworth or Ha' pennyworth or whatever he calls himself, Barney promised to bring him down this way. I wondher Wc at's keepin' them, anyhow, to pass the time I'll 8in<{ a bt of a song. {He sings At the end of the song enter R., Babnet and Adol.) BAR. — Arrah Darby, is this yourself. Mr. Pennyworth, this is an old friend of mine, an' a fine boy he is, Darby Grady by name. ADOL. — Aw, Mr. Grady, let me shake hands with you I'm sure I shall like you, for really yon know, I am getting to like the country better with every hour I pass in it, and the people too, don't ye know. ' DARBY, — Yes, that's the way with us an' we can't help ft ; we're like money — the more ye see of us the more ye like us. , Oh, indeed I admit that meself. ADOL. — I m sure you are very kind to agree with me, Mr. Grady, see- ing that I am a stranger here, and strangers like to be agreed with, y« know. BARNEY. — Oh, yes, we agree with ye fine, an' you agree with us — as the cannibal said to the minister when he ate him up. ADOL. — Positively, Mr Barney, you startle me with your quaint say- ings, but I'm sure you don't mean it, ye know. BAR. — Not a bit of it, for we're not cannibals, an' even canniba'^s wouldn't ate an omadhaun. ADOL. — Mr. Barney, what is the meaning of that word ? BAR. — What ? Omadhaun ? Oh sure it means a very smart man that has travelled»a lot. When I said that you were one, it's only a left-handed compliment that I was payin* ye, ADOL. — Yes, I'm sure, and you were very kind .to say it, you know. But whce shall we go now ? DARBY.— I have it Barney, I'll bet ye anything ye never brought Mr. Ha'pennyworth to hear the wondherful echo up in the hills ? ADOL. — Oh, yes, Mr. Grady, he did, I assure you, and if you wouldn't mind. I would rather not go again. I am afraid of the night- mare, ye k»kow. dA.RBY. — The night- mare is it f Oh, then 6arney, you should bring him to see the Divil'i Crag where all the witchts ride in the air on broom- sticks. , ADOL.— What! Witches! Why I should die of fright if I saw tkem I DARBY. — Then let us go to the buryin' ground where we can have a chat with the spooks, an' the hobgoblins, an' the (ADOL. nina out L.) Oh, begoira, the poor goasoon is oat of his mindwith frigkt. Come on Barney an* help him to get back his witt. ^ » 39 Stand up ) liu' t;o that ver he calls I wondher of a song. i Adol.) lis is an old I'm suTe I he country jre know. ; we're like )ed I admit Grady, see- id with, ye pith us — as quaint say- canniba^s man that ft-handed • 'ou know. r brought ? wouldn't -mare, -ye uld bring n broom- if I saw n hay« a /ome on {Exeunt L.) SCENE III. A Garden. Mm. O'Dhiscoll and Hardino diicoveTcd,) Mr. 0*D. — ^'^'^8, Harding, it haa long be«n my wish to see my daughter married to the man of her choice, but you have asked me to speak plainly, and I will— i/ot* are not her choice. , HARD. — Dot! she believe the silly charge brought against me by a noted gambler — a man whose oath would not be believed in any court of justice ? Mr. O'D. — Perhaps she does ; I do not know, and until the matter is entirely cleared up, I will not urge her to marry you. HARD.— You, too, then, believe it ? Mr. O'D.— I did not say so. HARD, — 1^0, but you implied it. Your words convince me that you believe that fellow 0*Shaughnessy . What ! I the life-long friend of Maurice O'Donnell do this thing ! . Good heaven man ! 'Tis an outrage to f ven listen to tho charge ! Mr. O'D.— It may be fals3, and it will be well if you can prove it so ; but, in the meantime the question of your suit must remain in abeyance. My daughter shall not marry a man on whom such a suspicion rests. (E^itet Mr, O'Donnkll, L) Mr O'DON. — And which suspicion has, to me, become a certaintj' ! O'DRIS.— Mr. 0*Donnell ! My dear friend, hiiVe you learned any- thing ? O'DON. — Yes, indeed I have. Since that dreadful night, two weeks ago, I have hidden myself from the world. No one has been permitted to enter my home or to communicate with me : but this morning a man forced himself into my house — into my presence, and to'd me the true story of that night. My hou whom I banished and almost cursed, is in- nocent, and the man who stands there is tbe criminal ! HARD. —I forjjive you, Mr. O'Donnell, for this insiilt because of your late sufferings You "are not in your right mind. Are you aware that the man who has told you this tale. is none el^e than the the \o\\ gambler who led your sou into evil ways ? This gambler — this fellow Myles O'Shaughnessy — — - O'DON. — Is my dead wife's brother ! HARD.— Your wife's brother ? O'DON — Ves, Maurice's uncle. He was a stranger to you and to Maurice, and to rescue my boy from your clutches, he appeared as your confederate, but alas ! he did not succeed in foiling you. You were too great a scoundrel for any honest man to measure, and now my boy is lost to me ! HARD —Again I say that this charge is false although made by your relative, and I forgive you fcr much can be forgiven the man whose un- fortunate son is a fugitive from justice ! O'DON. — And who m^e him such ? Who was the false friend that led hiin on, and who was the first to apply to him tht name of murd«i'er ? 'Twas yon, Felix Harding, 'twas you ! \l if iiiiiHim i:iMi!!!ii m$ iiil ^^. ; 30 distant witneBi of his crime, I HARD. — I only did my dnty. As a was compelled to tell all that I saw O'DON. — ^Tes, yon have sworn that my son is the slayer of the gypsy, Vibert, bat if yon took a thousand such oaths, 1 would still call you traitor undperjwrn I 'BlASlQ. ^{Advancing a few tteps.) Mr. O'Dounell, I take your insults calmly, but tia your gref hairs that sa^e you from my hands. Your son slew the gypsy, because the latter had wronged him, and I will prove it. I was once your son's friend, but am now his enemy, and I shall not rest till I bring him to the scaffold ! O'DRISCOLL— Villain, you dare to speak thus to the old man on whose head you have brought the bitterest sorrow,? Traitor to the friend who trusted you — false to the mau who believed vou ! You are a disgrace te the name of man ! Do not longer insult us by your presence. Lieave my grounds ! HARD— Mr. O'DriscoU your polite request shall be attended to. I know where that man's son is to be fonnd, and before another day goes over his head, he shall see that son a prisoner I {Exii L.) ^ O'DRIS.— (To O'DON.) Cheer up, my poor old friend. Do not allow that fellow's boastful language to depress your spirits. {Enter Maurice R. at the rear. He standt, listening.) O'DON. — Ah, his last words were bitter, and he means them. Ob, God ! will I never see my son — the son I banished from my heart and home — will I never again see him, except as a felon in a prison-cell ! I drove him from me with words of anger ; I almost cursed him, and he went away with a broken heart ! MAUR. — {From his position in the rear.) Yes, because he was innocent f O'DOJH,— {Turning.) Who speaks » {^AVKict steps forward.)' MAUR. — Yes, you drove Maurice O'Donnell from your home, because yon believed him guilty. He fled, and encountered the destroyer of his happiness. They fought and he fell. When he recovered, he was alone. Hte opponent the gypsy was gone. Now he is charged with murder, but of both crimes he is fis guiltless as you. <^'DON.— What do you know of him ? Where did you learn this ? f n H. — I learned it from himself. xy- }.rH .—You know where he is ? Tell me, tell me, for God's sake ! V^«! tf . > my son? V ^P j>i. — ^Twould be useless to tell you, for he will not come until you call him, an'tell him that yon believe him innocent of that crime for which you banished him. O^DON.— Then tell him, tell him that I was blind— that the scheme of a traitor robbed him fh)m me. He promised to come when I called him. TeU him that I call him now — that his father knows him to be iiil!! ;;' Do not allow 3» innocent— that he implorea his forgiveuesi. Quick, call him back. No, no, take me to him. I will go to my injurtd and innocent son. — Take me to him ! (Maubicb throws off disguise.) MAUR. — Father, father, he is befwe you ! END OF THIKD ACT. AOT IV. SCENE I. — A Room ik thi AiHiVKBUM ? Adolpuus diseowred a sleep on a sofa. Presently he stirs as if uneasy. Then fie talks in his sleep. •* ADO L.— No, no, take it away ! It's a horrible sight ! Take it from me, away (Quiet a few moments.) I saw him do it. One was lying ^ the ground. You did it— yon did it, I say ! You pushed the gypsy into the cold rirer. Oh, it was horrible, horrible {Quiet again and throws his arm above his head.) Oh, how they struggled ! It was a fierce fight, but he conquered, he murdered him • {A knock at tlie door. Repeated, and enter Habdino who looks at the sleeper.) HARD —Oh, I 8<^e you are taking it easy. Hello, asleep ? Well, this is a nice fellow ! He makes an appointment with me, and here he lies fast asleep ! ADOL. — Take it away I Away, I tell you ! The sight freezes my blood — it terrifies me ! Away with it ! Begone, begone—— HARD — Ha, ha I Talking in his sleep ! I must awake him. {Advances apace or two, and stops suddenhj.) ADOL. — And Harding did it — he choked the gypsy. They fought like demons ! The other lay on the ground — the gypsy had struck him Then Harding killed the gypsy. How his eyes blazed an he struggled with him I Don't ! Don't do it. Stop ! Ah HARD.— My God ! What does this mean ? ADOL'. — Harding, Harding, for God's sake do not kill him I N«, no, don't do that ! Take your hands from his throat ! Look, look I There is murder in his eyes ! How they glare 1 Ha^ he pushes him back ! They have reached the river's edge. What t Harding is alone ? Where is the gypsy ? I cannot see him. He is gone — he is drowned, and Harding did it ! Help, help 1 {Springs from sofa, looking ttupefied. Sees Hardimg.) .n,|n IJlii'';] %\ )'• i l:il''j 32 •ADOL. — Ah, Hardng, I thiuk I're been haring a uap good heaven, man I What is the matter ? Are yoa ill ? HARD. — No, no, — it is nothing. (Drops into a chair.) ADOL. Has anything happened ? Yon are deathly pale ? HARD. — No ; sit down — there. (Pointing to $ofa Adol. complies — Haedinq n«e«, and vxilks to door, locks itf putting the key into hispoch't Adol. rises.) ADOL.-— Harding, what are you doing t Whv do you lock the door ? HARD. — You will soon learn. Sit down. Sit down, I tell you 1 (Adol. sits on sofa, looking scared ) Kow we are secure from interruption. ADOL. — But what do you mean, Harding ? Your words and actions terrify me ! HARD. — I will tell you what I mean. We are alone in this room , and you shall not leave it alive, if yifur will rcfusex to bend to mine I ADOL. — My will bend to yours? I do not understand you. HARD. — Then I will speak plainly. You were sleeping when I entered, yet your tongue was loosened ADOL.— An ! What did I say ? HARD. -^(Looking steadily at Adol.). You mumbled some words; then your voice beeime more distinct, and you pictured a scene — a terrible scene— of murder ! (Advances nearer,) Answer me — what do you know ? Speak or I will kill you ! ADOL. — {Cowering on tfte sofa.) Mercy, mercy! I know nothing. Take your eyes off me — they glare so ! They burn me like coals of tire ! HARD— JSpeak, ffX)l ! Tell me all and I will not harm you. ADOL ■— Oh, spare me, spare me uid I will tell you. I did not mean to be a witness to the— the struggle ; it was an accident— no, no, J cannot tell you ! HARD. — Then 1 will repeat the substance of your unconscious words. Yqu pictured a meeling — a straggle — a death ! A gypsy was the victim. A man lay on the ground, you said. Who was that man ? ADOL.— Maurice O'Donncll. ' HARD. — No, you lie ! It was I who lay there. Do yo« hear I ADOL — No, no ; you were struggling with the gypsy ^ HARD.— Stop ! O'Donnell had seized the gipsy. 1 ran to separate them I was too late, O'Donnell threw the gypny into the river, and struck' me to the earth. Do you understand ! ADOL. — No, I saw the gypsy strike O'Donnell, and you — you— the gypsy attacked you and he fell into the river. HARD, r- No, he did iiot fall — he was thrown in. Listen to mt : You will appear in court, as a witness ; you will testify to what yon hare and actioBB 33 seeu, but fon must subttitnte for my name that of HauriM O'Doni^ell. Do you promise t ADOL.— But he is innocent ; he mill be hanged, and I will be his murderer I HARD. — (Prodiicing pistol.) Promise — at once ! ADOL. — Harding, do not murder me i I will do what you tall me. Yes, I promise. HABD.— Very good ; now for the rest. From this day, until I order otherwise, you will sleep at my house — your tongue might betray your head and ruin me. ^ ADOL. — Yes, yes, I will do anything—everything yon miA 1 (Hides his f^'l! never be hanged, for if anyone at all is bulged, 111 bet a hundred pounds that it'll be a man by the name of FeHz Huding. {Exit R. Enter Dabbt and Babnby, L.) BAR.-<--Darby, I wonder what's the matter with Mr. Adoiphns Peany* ■flp** 34 fill! iliiil ill wm \ Hi !itli;l. ■:.; worth. I met him an' that dWil Felix llarding, an' his face was aa long at a three foot rule. DARBY. — Perhaps he was goin' to get married, Barney. . BAR. — Be off, ye old bachelor ! Snre if that was so, he wonld'ut have a long face. DARBY. — Indeed an' he might, for they say that marriage ehanges the face of things, an' isn't he only a thing, Barney ? BAR. — Begorra, I don't know what he is. Oh, Darby, I'll bet ye any- thing he's goin' to have us arrested ! When I saw the two of them they were comin' out of the court house. DARBY.— To hare us arrested ? For what t BAR. —For the picnic we had with him up on the Diril's Crag yester- day. God forgive me, it's a shame, but I could'nt help havin' same fun out of the poor omadhaun. DARBY — Ha, ha, ha, — w6re you lookin* at him, Barney, when Micky Brady ran out of the cave with the sheet over Li& head ? Ho, ho, ho, I thought I'd split ! BAR. — Yes, an" when Jerry Callahan came mnnin' down the hill dressed in an ould bearskin, an' • him roarin' like a bull. Begorra,- poor Pennyworth's hair stood on end like needles, haw, haw, haw ! DARBY. — An* I thought he'd shake to pieces when he saw Teddy Mahoney with the horns on his head and the wings on his back ; an' Teddy, the rogue, ran up to him an* said : " Adolphus Pennyworth, I'm the divil, an' I'm goin' to fly away with ye." Och, Barney, I rolled an the ground an' kicked with the laughin'. BAR. — No, but the best of all was when he was runuin' away like mad, he ran into the bog, ho, ho, ho,' — an* when he could'nt stir a foot Micky Brady shouted, **Run for your life, the divil's after ye I" Oh dear, oh dear, I shook so that I lost control of meself an' fell into the ditch. Ha, ha, ha ! — Och, Darby, we'll never hate so much fun again. DARBY .—{Looking R.) Look, Barney, look ! .Isn't that Felix Hard- ing up the road, there ! Begorra if he's not goin' into, the magistrate's house ! Let us go down an' have an eye on him. {Exeunt R.) V SCEi^E III. Thb Magistrate's Office. Mr. Priston ditcovered seated at a table. PRESTON.— (^ note in Ms hand.) Ha, ha ! Maurice O'Donnell has returned — the murderer of the gypsy, Yibert, is at large ! AH right, my dear Mr, Harding, you can come whenever you wish. ] {A knock at the door. Enter Harding.) HARD. — Ah, Mr. Preston, we have the bird in a o^, at last. You^ received my note ? . PRES.— Yes, a short time ag«. Take a seat while I oompletti the war- rant for O'DonnelPfl arrest. (Prbston vnitei.) This is the same fellow, who, it was said^ attempted to rob his father about two weeks ago« is he not ? ^ 'MM 35 HARD. — The very same, and it was that that led to the killing of the gypsy. It appears that the latter had impersonated O'Donaell. He wa«. foand ont, and the first time O'Dounell met Vibert, he threw him into the river. PRES. — Yes, so I believe, and 'twas a very foolish and criminal pro- ceeding on his part. Here is the warrant, my dear sir. (Hakdino takes and glaneeg oter it.) HARD.— look here, Mr. Preston yon have made a trifling miitake f PRES.— Yes? What is it? (Takes tuarrant.) HARD. — Read it, and see. PRES. — {Looking at tlie paper.) Dear, oh dear, how did that ocomr ? Substituted your name for that of the orimiual I A grievous error to be sure 1 I beg a thousand pardons !— 'Twas only a slip of the pen. {Proceeds to make the correction. ) HARD. — And a very offensive one to me, Mr. Preston. PRES. — What ? Angry over a mistake ! Why, this accidental thrust seems to have touched a very sore spot, my dear Mr. Harding. {Presents vmrrant which HARDrNo places in his pocket.) HARD. — It is not this alone that annoys me. I have called here half a dozen times, and, until now, you have found it convenient to be out. PRES. — Ah, indeed ! Well, you know, the ends of justice are some- times served by delay ; this explains the law's slow movements, my dear Mr. Harding. HARD. — Then it will act quickly in this matter, for I shall attend to it myself. Even Maurice O'Donnell's judicial friends will not be able to further clog the wheels of justice ! (Exit L.) PRES. — Hem — that means me. Well, I am sure that I would rather be O'Donnell's friend, than either the friend or enemy of that fellow. Let me see — yes, I think I shall walk down to O'Donnell's place, and see how matters come out. I really feel for the boy for I believe him to be iunccent. Yes, I'll go down. ^ (Exit .L) SCENE IV— A Wood. Mauiiob discovered, alone. MAUR. — This is, perhaps, my last day of freedom. When I awake to-morrow, prison-walls may enclose me. When will 1 again see these woods? When will my feet press the tnrf on which I played in my happy boyhood ? Is this the last time that I may look upon the stenes of my childkiood — scenes that are, oh ! so dear to me now. Can it be that I am the Maurice O'Dounell of a few months ago t Yes, only a few N iu,i.; !l!;!-!i| II I m WM «■ ! ) ;iiiiiii;i!ii ttl m 36 • short month* hare gone siuoe thai fatal day when I sat at the gaming- table /or the first time with Felix Harding ! And he— the man I believed to be my friend, was my bitterest enemy. He Nought my ruin and he has acoomplished it. Soon I will Uh kiiowu as a mnrderur-^a man who has taken the life of another ! A mnrderer — a murderer I No, no I That man did not fall by my hand. I am charged with this crime, but, oh God 1 You know that I am innocent ! (EnUr Baknkt R.) BAK. — Masther Maurice, Hasther Maoricef the police are at the houM Quick, fly for yer life — ye can escape by the river I Quick 1 M AUR — The police are at the house f Then let them come — I am ready. BAR. — But surely yo'll not let them take ye 7 Wake up man, an'put the sea between you an'the divila ! M^ITR, — No, Barney, ray good lad, 1 will stay here. BARNEY— (i4«i) O'DRIS.— (To Adol.) What does this moan ? ADOL.— Wait a moment, pleaae. {To Harding.) Felix Harding, at the poiut of a pistol you made me promise to help convict an innocent man. Now I retract that promise don't ye know. Maurice O'Donnell is as free from guilt as I, myself. HARD. — Tfhat do you mean ? Do yon dare to deny that yon were a witness to the crime, aud tiiat you saw Maurice O'Donnell kill the' gypsy T ADOL. — My dear fellow, I will enlighten yon, bnt first of all let me tell you, that I am Maurice O'Donnell's frieud, {Drops Engliih accent,) and that ray name is not Adolphus Pennyworth, but Charles O'DrisooU. this man's son t (Lays his hand on O'Drisooll's \arm after removing long-haired wig.) O'DRIS — Charley, ray boy, what is thia ? ADOL — I will tell you, father. As you know, I hare been at college for the past year. Two weeks ago I arrived home, and learned about Maurice. Since that day I have acted by part with the result tha; I de- clare Maurice to be entirely innocent, and his traitor-frtend, Felix Harding, guilty. HARD. — Bnt, my dear fellow, please to remember that assertiong are easy to mak<*. How will you get over the fact that I found yoi asleep — that you talked in your sleep and told that y cm had seen the crime committed, and that you confessed that Maurice O'Donnell was the perjietrator I ADOL. — I v^iU_^tell yon. Felix Harding, I adopted that ruse to entrap you. When you thought me asleep, I was as wiae awake as you were f I did not see the crime committed, but had learned from Maurice the circumstances of his meeting with tne gypsy on that fatal night, and I determined to prove the truth. I had an appointment with you at a hotel; I lay on a couch as though asleep. When I heard your eteps in the cor- ridor, I began to talk iu my sleep. Vou entered the room, and then, still apparently sleeping, I pictured the ecene of your crime as Maurice had pictured it to me, with some ad4itions of my own. Von stood listeih ing— the image of guilt and terror I I felt no oempfoaction for mjf decie^ tioD, for I widied to save xay innootat friend and |>iiiHsh » seoandiel f 38 1.0] ill ill!!! Mli! ; ^ (Habdino aUempts to rwh upon Adol., but U caught by Mtlis. MYLES— No, no I No more murdera my fine fellow ! HABP.— (7o Adol.) Do you imagine that any i4ne man will believe this story f ADOL.—Yea, the whole world will believe it (To the Offioeb). Mr. Officer, here is a warrant charging Felix Harding with employing the gypsy, Vibert, to enter Mr. O'Dounell's house with felonious intent, on the night of the 16th of October. {Hands Warrant.) HARD.— You lie, fellow, and you know it ! The gypsy did enter Mr. O'Donnell's house, but I had nothing to 4o with it. Maurice O'Donnell learned of the gypsy's act— and he killed him. ADOL. — Yes, Maurice O'DonnoU learned of the gypsy's act, but 'tis you who threw the unfortunate mun into the river — 'tis you who have that crime upon your soul ! HARD.— Agam I tell you that you lie ! {Points at Maubioe.) There is the murderer of the gypsy, and there lives not a man on earth who can prove him innocent I (Enter RAYMoin> Vibert L.) RAY. — Yes, J, Raymond Vibert, can ! {Sensation,) Yes, villain, when you threw me into the river I was unconscious. The coldness of the water revived me, and b^^ing a practised swimmer, I struck out for the other side. Although the current was fierce, I reached the bank in safety, and, fearing punishment for what I had done, I fled Yesterday I learned tnat you had charged Maurice O'Donuell with my death. I returned, and although I will suffer for my wrong'doiug, yet, gypsy as I am, I scorn to shield myself behind the cruel lie of a white scoundrel ! PRESTON— Mr. Officer, will ypu be good enough to transfer your attentions to Mr. Felix Harding. * {Before the Officers can obey, Harding draws a pistol.) HARD. — Vibeflfc, you have betrayed me, but your treachery shall cost you your life I (Attempts to fire, but is disarmsd by Mtlbs. Offiobrs approach and Jiand'cuff Hardimo.) FRES. — Officers, away with him ! HARD. — Ms^^rice O'Donnell, I am defeated. Craft and double-dealing have sunk beneath the weight of trutb and virtue. I have lost all that I plotted for and hoped to obtain. The prison awaits me : my future will be a dark and dreary one, but I myself, am to blame : I shall reap as I have sown : I accept my fate. , {Exit with Offi^xrt.) MAUK — {Advancing to Raymond.) Raymond Vibert, you have deeply injured met During the past two weeks I have suffered what has appeared to me as years of anguish ; but, I seek no revenge ; your last id enter Mr. 3e O'Donnell act, but 'tis on who have 39 act has atoned for the wrong you hare done. You are free— I forgive you. MYLES — {Layiny his hand on M's shovider.) Maurice, my lad, I am proud of you. You haye shown that Iiishmen possess one of the Doblost of manly viitues — forgireness of enemies. You are a true scion of the princely house of O'Donnell, for yon hare passed through a sea of calamny without a stain upon your fair name. The darkness of the past will tend to make the future still brighter, and in the time to come when the years will have whitened my head, I know that I shall be able to takiB your hand, as I do now, and call you, my nephew, Maurice O'Donnell, the pride •f Killabmst. THE END. ;ics.) There ffth who can