{Enter Nellie.)
Cap. Oh, dear!

Nel. Ah! Capitola, are you here? I thought I
heard voices. Who was with you, Capitola?

Cap. (Hangs her head.) Rufus.

Nel. Do you love him, Capitola?

Cap. Well, T do sort of like him.

Nel. Your tell-tale blushes speak louder than
w^ords. my little coquette. (Sits dotvn.) Love
comes but once to any human heart, and where it
is. it speaks in the sparkling eye, the crimson
cheek, the faltering voice. I can read the story,
Capitola.

Cap. And, ISTellie, where sorrow is, the face be-
trays it too. You are not happy in this marriage.
You do not love him.

Nel. No! No! I do not love him, Capitola, and
as for happiness, there's no such thing for me.
That lies buried forever in the grave, with one
whose love dethroned his reason, if the world, you,
everyone, has not deceived me with cruel lies and
slanders. Love him? No! T have known a love
so passionate that his vows are mockeries, that
almost make me loathe him.



56

Cap. Nellie, you frighten me ! What have you
done in consenting to this marriage?

Nel. Done? I do not know. I have done that
which — now that it is done, I shrink to think of it.
Cap. Have you deceived him?
Nbl. No. I have told him all. Told him I can
never love him and that my marriage vows are
meaningless beyond respect and a wife's duty faith-
fully performed.

Cap. Have you acted wisely in this matter,
Nellie?

Nel. There, there. Don't speak of that. Your
question comes too late. I have no right to ask
myself that question. I am his wife, and I will be
his slave so that he'll let me keep my memory of
the dead, and do a father's duty to my child.

Cap. I can't hear you talk like this, Nellie. It
isn't like you, and its wicked.

Nel. You ask me questions and I answer them.
Why did you not doubt and question me yesterday,
the day before, any time but now, when I am
chained to him body and soul?
Cap. (Half sobbing.) Nellie!
Nel. 1 spoke harshly! Forgive me Capitola,
for this marriage has made me wretched.
Cap. We did not know you felt like this.
Nel. I did not know it either. I thought of
little Ralph, not of myself; but to-day, when I
stood in the same church and heard the marriage
service as I heard it then, and thought of the man
who stood beside me, the past came back with all
its suffering and misery, and turned my heart to
steel.
Cap. Nellie, you must not feel like this.
Nel. I shall not refer to it again. I am Evan's
wife, and will yield a wife's obedience without com-
plaint. I shall be faithful to myself and him,
Capitolia, and strive to make him happier, and his
home more cheerful for my presence in it.
Little Ralph. (Outside.) Mamma!
Cap. Here comes little Ralph. He sees you, and



59

Nel. Who are you? Who are you, sir?

Ralph. Who am I? A fugitive from justice;
an escaped felon ; a parricide condemned to death,
and hiding from the vengeance of the law ; a fool,
v^hose only crime is that he loved you so, that when
he thought you dead, he risked his life to kneel
beside your grave. Look me in the face and tell
me that you do not know the father of your child.

Nel. (Shrieks.) Ralph ! Ralph ! You live !

Ralph. Live ! Yes, I live. Your cruelty has
not killed me.

Nel. Ralph! Ralph! My husband !

Ralph. No, not your husband. You are his
wife. [She kneels at his feet.) The wife of the man
who charges me with crime, and you believe me
guilty.

Nel. Oh, G-od! What have I done? They told
me you were mad, and in your frenzy killed him.
It was not true? It was not true, Ralph?

Ralph. It was as false as the black soul of my
accuser. He killed my father, and yet you are his
wife.

Nel. No ! No ! {Extends her hands imploringly.)

Ralph. Do not touch me !

Nel. Ralph ! My God, Ralph ! Listen to me !

Ralph. We are divorced. You are his wife.

Nel. No, no! We are not divorced. This mar-
riage is unholy and illegal. The officers reported
that you died. The world believes you dead — and
for the sake of my child, your child, Ralph, I became
that man's wife. But I am not his wife ; I am your
wife, Ralph. I have not wronged you. Do not
spurn me from you, Ralph! I love you and I believe
you innocent.

Ralph. {Dazed, extends his arms) Nellie ! {They
embrace) You love me still, and you believe me
innocent ?

Nel. Yes, yes, Ralph.

Ralph. And you'll go with me? I'm not safe
here. The world believes me guilty, and if I am
seen and recognized, I shall lose life, lose you, lose
everything.



60

Nel. I had forgotten that ; but, Ralph, would
they know you? The officers reported that you
died in prison — died by your own hand. Everyone
believes you dead. I cannot understand it.

Ralph. Nor I ; nor do I care so long as you are
in my arms and you are safe.

Nbl. You escaped from prison?

Ralph. Yes ; and why I was reported dead and
not pursued, I cannot guess. I read the published
notice of your death, and on that very night I
escaped, only to find the whole wide world without
your presence as dark and dismal as my cell. Not
knowing or caring whither I went or where death
overtook me, so I was spared an ignominious end, I
wandered Westward, and in the mines, below the
snow-clad peaks of the great Rockies, I toiled for
gold^ — ^toiled with no purpose save to forget the
past, 1 became rich, but the wealth I slaved for
and once desired, was valueless, because I could not
share it with you. I never heard from home. I
avoided all means of intelligence. My reported
death never reached me. I strove to forget every-
thing save your confiding love, and that alone lured
me back again. I came to find your grave, but I
have found you living and your love unchanged.

Nel. Yes. Ralph, unchanged and loyal always.
But Evans — J must not see him! He will claim a
husband's rights, Ralph, under this marriage.

Ralph. Thank God, I live to make your mar-
riage with him unlawful and its consummation
infamous!

Nel. Yes; but if I told him this, what then?
You would be hunted down. No ; we must leave
this place. Leave it once and forever, and never
let the truth be known. Oh, Ralph, I hear voices ;
some one is coming! If you should be recognized!

Ralph. As you have said, no one would know
me at a glance.

Nel. But if they should, Heaven help us, Ralph!
Go. You must go at once.

Ralph. And you?



57

is running as fast as his sturdy legs can carry him,
the little codger

(Enter little Ralph,)

L. R. Oh, mamma! Have you come back?
(Runs to Nellie, and she embraces hi^n.)

Nel. Yes — Yes my darling, mamma has come
back. {Caresses him.) Kiss me, my little one.

L. R. You love me don't you?

Nel, Love you — love you? {Embraces him.) Yes
— yes, mamma loves you. Heaven knows how
much she loves you, when for your sake she forgets
the past, and becomes the wife of a man whom she
once feared, and whom she can never love. {Kisses
him.) There, there, my darling, go with Capitola
now. Mamma wants to be alone a little while.

L. R. Oh! Mamma! I saw such a nice, funny
man, and I want to tell you about him.

Nbl. No! N"ot now, my darling. Tou maj^ in a
little while.

L. R. May I come back awful soon mamma?

Nel. Yes, darling.

{Capitola leads him off.)

L. R. {At side.) Mamma — oh mamma. {Throws
a kiss ) Good bye- {Nellie holds out hands, he runs
back, she kisses him. and weeps. Little Ralph runs
off^ with Capitola. Nellie sits and holds a photograph
looking at it, kisses it reverently, bows head on one
hand and holds photograph in the other.
{Enter Evans.)

Evans. {Approaching and looking over her shoulder
frowns.) {Aside.) Ralph Grurley's picture ! {Aloud)
Nellie!

Nel. {Startled) Oh, sir — oh, sir! You frightened
me.

Evans. 1 do not doubt it. One would hardly ex-
pect, however, that the voice of the husband would
be a cause of terror to the wife whose lips have not
yet sealed the vows of marriage with a kiss.

Nel. I beg your pardon, sir; but I wanted to be
alone for a little while.

Evans. I will not disturb your revery. I trust it's
a pleasant one. I will go.



58

ISTel. Oh, sir! Do not be angry with me.
-Evans. I am not angry, and I will trouble your
patience only long enough to say: That a wife's
duty requires some small regard for the feelings of
the living husband, as well as for the memory of the
dead,

ISTel. What do you mean?

Evans. Nothing beyond your comprehension,
beleive me. When you are not so busy I will call
again. {Starts to go.)

Nel. No! No! Do not misjudge me! Do not
go like that! (Exit Evans. Nellie icatches him in
surprise and ivith emotion. Enter Ralph unnoticed hy
Nellie.

Nel. That's this ! Does he scorn and threaten
me because 1 hold this picture in my hand? Ralph's
picture — Oh, can it be that all his kindness and
sympathy have been assumed? Has he worn them
as a mask, to cast them by when the marriage vows
are spoken, and I am helpless? Heaven help me if
he has !
Ralph. Amen to that!

Nel. (Starts and turns toward him in alarm)
Who are you, sir?

Ralph. Who am I? Ha! Ha! That's kind of
you. Its possible I should be deeply grateful to you
for refusing to know me, but I'm not. What value
do you think I set upon my life when you desert me?
It is a thing to nie as worthless as a woman's vows.
Call my name with horror on your lips — shriek*
parricide, and summons aid to drag me to the
scaffold and strangle me at a ropes end for crime of
which I am as innocent as your child. Your cruelty
would be less keen and cutting than it is, when you
refuse to know me.
Nel. Man! Are yo a mad? What do you mean?
Ralph. You counterfeit surprise like a trained
actress. Summon your husband. Do you think I
dare not meet him? Bind me hand and foot and
arm him to the teeth — set us face to face, and let
the man who, shrinks with fear, hang for that awful
crime.



61

Nel. I'll meet you at the maples at eight o'clock
to-night.

Enter Evans.

Ralph. Till then, good-bye. {Embraces her.)

Nel. No, not good-bye. Never say good-bye
again. I'll met you there. Go ; go quickly !

Evans. No, stay. {Nellie shrieks.) So, madam ! I
find you busier than before. The living husband
and the dead are both forgotten.

Ralph. Pardon me, sir. You do the lady a great
vv^rong. I found her almost fainting and alone, and
offered her my aid.

Evans. And cured her with a kiss. A great
physician, truly. Who are you, sir?

Ralph. I am a stranger. There's no one here
who knows me.

Evans. That woman is my wife.

Ralph. ] do not know your wife.

Evans. {Derisively) You do not? Your talents
are of a high order to make so easy a conquest of a
woman's heart. {To Nellie.) Do you know this
man?

Nel. {Hesitating) No.

Evans. You lie. I'll find a way to wring the
truth from your paramour. Gro, I say.

Nel. {Clitigs to Ralph) No— no — I will not go.

Ralph. Go, in Heaven's name, go, and leave us
alone together.

Nel. {Clings to Ralph, turns away slowly, hesi-
tates, looks at Evans, who stands in a threatening atti-
tude. — Turns and clings to Ralph) I cannot leave
jou alone together.

Evans. {Furiously) Do you cling to him?
(Calmly) Go, madam. {Furiously) Do you mean
to disobey me? {Seizes her by the arm) If you
refuse to go, I'll kill you where you stand-
{Threatens to strike her. Enter Peters, Capitola,
Little Ralph, Mi-^s. Hunt)

Ralph. Hold, you ruffian. Do you think that
you can strike this weak, defenseless woman, and
I stand by and let you?
Evans. Who are you, sir, that threatens me?



62

Ralph. I am a man, your equal in brute strength
and courage. Aim your blows at me. Were I less;
were I cripple, racked with pain in every joint, you
should not strike her.
Evans. She is aiy wife.

Ralph. It's false. She shall be spared that
misery if pay the forfeit with my life — and if she
were, what right has man to kill where he has
sworn to cherish and protect?
Evans. She shall obey me?
Ralph. She shall not obey you.
Evans. What do you mean? What right have
you to step between that woman and myself ?

Ralph. The right acquired through her undying
love. The right conferred by the solemn sanction
of the law. She is my wife, not yours. {Little
Ralph runs to his mother.)

Evans. And you — you are Ralph Gurley ! {Starts
back aghast.)

Ralph. Aye ! Ralph Grurley ! Why do you stand
aghast and shink with fear? I am Ralph Gurley,
the victim of your hellish villainy. You dare not
look me in the face, though I am in your power.
{Capitola and Mrs. Hunt scream. — Nellie faints.—
Ralph catches her in his arms)

Evans. And you shall feel my power unless you
go forever. Fll give you one more chance. Leave
her to me and go your way. Refuse and —

Ralph. Stop ! You infamous villain I Buy
safety with her honor? No ! Your soul is blacker
than I thought. You may kill me if you will, but
you shall never stain her purity with your unholy
love.

Little Ralph. Mamma ; Mamma !

{Tableau. — Curtain.)

ACT IV.

Scene I. — Same as Act II, Scene I. — As curtain rises
Peters enters through swinging door, stops inside and
takes from his pocket an immense watch and looks
at it. — Reaches down to adjust shoe just as mamvith



63

gripsack passes oiit.~Man opens door wide and lets

it swing hack violently.— It strikes Peters and

knocks him into center of stage. — Knocks off his hat.

— Peters turns in fright.

Peters. Excuse me, sir ; I — I — . [Sees no one)
Was 1 kicked? I would have, staked my profes-
sional reputation that I was kicked. {Goes to door,
pushes it, and alloios it to siving back violently.) I
was not kicked. Strange that I should have mis-
taken the sensation — but it seemed quite natural- —
quite so. On the word of a lawyer of large experi-
ence, I could have sworn that I was kicked. {Picks
up hat and p ids it on — looks at watch.) I am ahead
of time. {Puts watch to ear.) It moves — the world
moves — but its pace needs acceleration. (Takes
out key and commences to ivind.) Capitola will come
on this train. It is due in about five minutes.
Poor girl ! I must blight her budding hopes. I have
exhausted myself in a vain endeavor to secure a
commutation of sentence for poor Gurley, [Keeps
winding) but, as yet, without success. {Keeps
iviiiding.) This register of Time's eternal flight, this
triumph of man's inventive genius, appears to be
suffering from some internal disorder. {Removes
key and loatch buzzes.) The main spring is evi-
dently on a strike for more pay. {Bell rings
tvithout.) The train has arrived. I will treat Capi-
tola with the dignity that becomes a member of the
greatest and grandest profession on earth. I will
be absorbed in profound meditation. I will not
notice her approach until she accosts me. She shall
see that my restless and powerful intellect is deeply
engaged. {Strikes attitude of abstraction. — Passengers
pass through. — Capitola enters and approaches Peters;
he does not notice her)

Capitola. {Gently.) Rufus?

Peters {Sighs.)

Cap. Rufus!

Peters. {^Abstractedly.) Eh!

Cap. Mr. Peters!!

Peters. Oh, Capitola ! Is it you? Is it indeed
you? Excuse me ; you will, I know you will ; but



64

I was so deeply engrossed in meditation that I was
not aware of your approach. Capitola, I am a
victim of care and sorrow to such a degree that
even your gentle presence failed to move me.

Cap. Oh, Hufus! {They embrace.) Oh, Rufus !
Isn't this dreadful?

Peters. Was it? I didn't observe. Let me try
again. {Embraces and kisses her.) No ; I can't say
T think so. Really, I rather like it, Capitola.

Cap. Oh ! of course, 1 didn't mean th— th — this.

Peters. No ; of course not. Certainly not.

Cap. I meant, isn't it dreadful about Ralph and
Nellie?

Peters. Dreadful ! It's indescribably awful !
Why, that unfortunate woman is frantic.

Cap. Where is she, Rufus? I want so much to
be with her.

Peters. She is in my ofl&ce with the little boy,
waiting for you to come and go with her to the
prison, to say good-bye to her husband for the last
time. She does nothing but sob, wring her hands,
and kiss the little boy. He's asleep on the sofa in
my sanctum sanctorum. It's very trying to my del-
icate constitution to get up at five o'clock, on a
winter's morning, to meet even so charming a
young woman as you at the depot ; but it's worse
to see how Grurley's poor wife suffers. What
between that, and divers and sundry other inflic-
tions, which I have been called upon to suffer, I'm
a physical wreck.

Cap. Oh, Rufus 1 What have you done ? Is there
any hope?

Peters. Not the most infinitesmal fraction of
a hope, Capitola.

Cap. You. must do something, Rufus, I don't
believe you have half tried. This terrible execution
must be stopped.

Peters. Then why don't you stop it? I am not
clothed with the pardoning power ; I don't own the
Governor of this Commonwealth ; I don't carry him
around in my pants pocket. If I had the authority
to do it, I'd paralyze him, Capitola, and keep him



65

paralyzed, until he signed an unconditional pardon;
but I'm mortal. Instead of paralyzing the Gov-
ernor, he has nearly paralyzed me.
Cap. Ain't you a lawyer?
Peters. I have that distinguished honor.
Cap. I thought lawyers could do anything.
Peters. They can do more than any other class
of men, Capitola. I speak from experience — from
sad experience. As a lawyer, I have done things
that, had I been less, I could never have accom-
plished. I have lived for weeks on one meal a day;
I have worn one pair of pantaloons until dogs have
attacked me, when they've beheld their forms
reflected in the worn and shining surface of the
fabric, of which the aforesaid pantaloons were
made ; I have stood at my office window and
counted a hundred thousand people pass by, and
never caught a client ; I have staid in bed all day
to get my only shirt washed ; I have been lied to
by clients, and everlastingly damned because I
failed to win the case ; I have been brow^-
beaten and bull -dozed by my professional brethren;
I have been fined for contempt of court ; I have
done and borne these things with a smiling face,
and congratulated myself because I was a member
of the greatest and grandest profession on earth ;
but there are some things that even a lawyer can-
not do.

Cap. Well, I don't believe you're much of a

lawyer anyway.

Peters. Capitola, beware! Beware what you
say ! You are now traveling on dangerous ground.
Capitola, I adore you. I worship you with the
strength and fervor of Oriental idolatry. I would
take poison from your fair hands and believe it
rock and rye. I would permit you to to pluck out
ray auburn wringlets, hair by hair. You' might
bury a poniard in my innocent anatomy and I
would not resist you. But beware how you trample
on my professional pride ! I have labored and suf-
fered too much in this affair to endure slander.
You refused to marry me until I had done every-



66

thing to save him. 1 have worked night and day.
I have been scorned, reviled, and been kicked,
because of my untiring efforts. Read that from
last night's paper. {Produces paper and points to
article.) Read that, and say 1 haven't tried. Oh !
Capitola! this is too much !

Cap. (Reads.) "Nearing the end. How the last
hours of Ralph Grurley, the parricide, are passed.
To-morrow, between the hours of seven and eight
o'clock, A. M., w^ill witness the last act in one of
the strangest and most terrible tragedies in the
history of crime. Ralph Gurley, the parricide, will
pay the penalty of his fearful crime on the gallows.
Retribution, though long deferred, will at last
arrive, thus vindicating the power and majesty of
the law. The story of this unfortunate man's life
reads like a romance and brings forcibly to mind
the old saying, that 'truth is stranger than fiction.'
Our readers will doubtless remember that on the
night of the 16th of September, six years since, he
murdered his father in cold blood." Oh! this is
awful ! He didn't do it, Rufus ! It's False !

Peters. It will be unnecessary for you to enter
into any extended discussion to convince me of
that, Capitola. Go on.

Cap. (Reads.) ""His trial was speedily had. He
was convicted and sentenced to death. At this
time our county was controlled by an unscru-
pulous ring of politicians, of whom the notorious
Peets was at the head. Shortly before the fall
election Gurley escaped, went West, and in the
mines amassed a fortune. Stahl, the then Sheriff,
was a candidate for renomination by his party;
and, fearing the escape of Gurley, if known, would
destroy his chances, he and Peets, who was then
Coroner, reported that Grurley had committed sui-
cide. A mock inquest was held, and they so effect-
ually succeeded in covering their tracks that no
one suspected the truth until Grurley returned and
was discovered. The circumstances of his dis-
covery and arrest have been fully narrated in these
columns. Gurley employed the ablest counsel in



67

the city, and every effort has been made to secure
a commutation of his sentence to imprisonment for
life, but without avail. Our worthy Governor is to
be complimented on his firmness in refusing to
interfere with the sentence of the Court, and is
entitled to the sympathy of all for the ordeal he
has undergone at the hands of certain of Gurley's
counsel. These gentlemen, with the exception of
a certain young fellow of the name of Peters — "

Petees. ' That's me Capitola.

Cap. (Reads.) "Appreciate the Governor's course,
and, having exhausted all honorable means, bow to
the inevitable. The Governor has been in town for
some days past, on private business, and this man
Peters has pursued him day and night without a
moment's rest. He follows the Governor on the
street, haunts the corriders of the hotel and forces
his way into the Governor's private apartments.
He has begged, pleaded, and threatened, and has
grown so abnoxious, that he was, this morning,
ejected from the hotel."

Peters. "Ejected !" Capitola, I was kicked
down two flights of stairs.

Cap. "Gurley's spiritual advisers will remain
with him to the last. His unfortunate wife and a
few friends will be permitted to visit him early
to-morrow morning ; all others will be excluded."
Oh ! Rufus, I can't read any more.

Peters. Don't do it then. Capitola, have I
tried ?

Cap. Oh ! Rufus, forgive me ; but he didn't do
it. Is there no hope ?

Peters. I knovv he's innocent, but I can't prove
it. Capitola, you knew Major Gurley well?

Cap. Yes,

Peters. What made him limp?

Cap. He had a leg broken in the service, and
never fully recovered from it.

Peters. How do you know?

Cap. I have often heard him say so. Why,
Rufus?

Peters. Capitola, I had the body that was sup-



68

posed to be Major Grurley's exhumed yesterday, and
that man never had a broken leg.

Cap. Oh, Rufus ! Why didn't you go and tell
the Governor ?

Petees. Why didn't I ? I did try to.
Cap. What did he say? What did he say,
Rufus?

Petees. Say? Why he ordered me kicked down
two flights of stairs. That's what he said. He
regards me as a full-blown crank.
Cap. Oh ! How you have suffered !
Petees. Capitola, there is some of Evans' dev-
iltry under all this thing. My soaring intellect is
so imprisoned in this penitentiary of clay, that I
can't quite get at it, but I believe Ralph is right.
Joe Evans killed that man, and he wasn't Major
Gurley. What was done with the Major, God only
knows, but the man that was killed was not he. I
know it. That man was only a pal of Joe Evans,
who resembled Major Gurley somewhat. They dis-
posed of the Major in some way. They stripped
his body, and Joe Evans' pal took his clothes,
money, and jewelry, as his share of the plunder.
Then there was a quarrel, as Ralph says, and Joe
Evans shot his accomplice. Shades of Blackstone !
Capitola, it's true. I know it's true.

Cap. Go tell this to the Governor. Go — go,
Rufus.

Petees. And get ejected ! 1 must have proof
that what T say is so. That body was not Major
Gurley's. Capitola, he was a strange man, and
Ralph says he always wore a chain and locket
around his neck that contained the portrait of his
wife.

Cap. He did. I have a often heard mother tell
how queer he was about that.

Petees. The man whose body was found wore

no such locket. (Bell rings outside) Another proof

to me, but valueless to convince anyone else; on

the word of a lawyer it is valueless.

Cap. What can we do?

Petees. Nothing; absolutely nothing. That



69

man is innocent. I know it — feel it— bnt he will
die for want of proof. If I could only discover
what became of Major Gurley, Capitola.

{Enter Dr. Burns, attendant, Major Gurley in charge.
— They seat Gurley and Doctor crosses over.)

De. Buens. Pardon me, sir; but am I not addres-