PS Book C^Jj^SL GoipghtlJ"„Z^/sf)L COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT. THE CITY A MODERN PLAY OF AMERICAN LIFE IN THREE ACTS BY CLYDE FITCH NON-REFERT awVAD ' OBS BOSTON LITTLE, BROWN, AND COMPANY 1915 1^6 1^1"^ c^ ^^ .^ Copyright, 1915, By little, brown, AND COMPANY, AND ALICE M. FITCH. This play is fully protected by the copyright law, all requirements of which have been complied with. In its present printed form it is dedicated to the reading public only, and no performance of it, either professional or amateur, may be given without the written permission of the owner of the acting rights, who may be addressed in care of the publishers, Little, Brown, and Company. G)GI.A420437 THE CITY ACT I. MiDDLEBURG, New York. T/ie Library in the Rand House. ACT II. New York City. The Library in the Rand House. Several Years Later. ACT III. The Same. A Few Hours Later, THE PERSONS IN THE PLAY George D. Rand. George D. Rand, Jr. Mrs. Rand. Teresa Rand, Cicely Rand. Albert F. Vorhees. Eleanor Vorhees. George Frederick Hannock. Donald Van Vranken. Susan. Maidservant in Middleburg. John. The coachman in Middleburg, Foot. Butler in New York. Originally produced at the Lyric Theatre, New York, December 22, 1909, with the following cast : George D. Rand . , A. H. Stuart George D. Rand, Jr Walter Hampden Mrs. Rand Eva Vincent Teresa Rand Lucile Watson Cicely Rand Mary Nash Albert F. Vorhees George Howell Eleanor Vorhees Helen Holmes George Frederick Hannock Tully Marshall Donald Van Vranken Edward Emery Susan Jane Gail John John Jex Foot Fred Courtenay ACT I Scene : At the Rands'. The library of a substan- tial house in Middleburg. Front doors open out into the "front hall^ It is furnished in a " seV^ of rosewood furniture, upholstered in brown and red figured velvet. The walls are covered with dark maroon wall-paper, with framed photographs of Thorwaldsen's "Four Seasons,'^ and over the mantel there is an en- graving of "Washington Crossing the Delaware.^' A rocking-chair and an armchair are in front of the grate fire. Lace curtains and heavy cur- tains are draped back from two French windows that look out on a covered piazza. There are a desk, a bookcase with glass doors, a "centre 4SI 452 THE CITY table" on which stands a double, green-shaded ''Studenfs lamp,'' a few novels, and some maga- zines. Near the bookcase is a stand holding a ''Rogers' Group." There are jars and bowls filled with flowers everywhere. Rand enters with the New York evening papers, The Post, The Sun; he half yawns, half sighs with fatigue. He starts to make his arm- chair ready before the fire; stops and goes over to his desk, where he finds a letter which he dislikes, recognizing the handwriting. Rand. [Angry.] Yes, still keeping it up, the young blackguard ! [He tears the letter in two, and throws it into the fire without reading it. He watches it burn a second, lighting a cigar; then takes his papers, makes himself comfortable in his chair before the fire, and starts to read. THE CITY 453 After a second, Mrs. Rand and Cicely, a very pretty girl of about seventeen, enter. Mrs. Rand carries a pitcher of water, scissors, and a newspaper. Cicely has her arms full of yellow tulips and a big bowl. Mrs. Rand. Why, father ! Aren't you home early? Teresa's train won't be in for an hour or so yet. [Mrs. Rand, filling the bowl with water, spreads the newspaper on the table; then cuts of the stems, and hands the flowers one by one to Cicely, who arranges them. Rand. I felt tired to-day, Molly. My head bothers me ! Mrs. Rand. [Going to him with affection and solicitude.] Why don't you lie down? [She lays her hand on his head.] You haven't any fever. [She kisses his forehead.] You're just over- 454 THE CITY tired ! [He pats her hand ajfcctionately, and holds it.] When are you going to give up business entirely, darling, and leave it all to George? Rand. Never, I'm afraid, dear. [Letting go her hand.] I've tried to face the idea, but the idleness appalls me. Cicely. Mother, have you the scissors? Mrs. Rand. Yes, dear. [Joins her, and continues with the flowers. Rand. Besides, George is too restless, too dis- contented yet, for me to trust him with my two banks ! He's got the New York bee in his bonnet. Cicely. [Glances at her mother before she speaks.] Oh ! We all have that, father, — except you. Rand. And mother ! Cicely. Humph ! Mother's just as bad as the rest of us. Only she's afraid to say so. THE CITY 455 [Smiling.] Go on, mother, own up you've got villiageitis and cityphobia ! Mrs. Rand. [Smiling.] I dare, only I don't want to bother your father ! Rand. That's the effect of George, — and Teresa. I've noticed all the innuendos in her letters home. Europe's spoiled the girl ! The New York school started the idea, but I hoped travel would cure her, and instead — ! Mrs. Rand. Wait till you see her. Remem- ber, in spite of letters, what a year may have done for her. Oh, I'm so eager to see her ! What a long hour this is ! [The telephone bell rings out in the hall. Mrs. Rand goes out and is heard saying, ''Hello! Yes, who is it ? Oh, is it you, Katherine ? " Rand. [Reading his paper.] Who's that talk- ing to your mother? 456 THE CITY Cicely. One of Middleburg's Social Queens, Mrs. Mulholland — known in our society as the lady who can wear a decollete gown, cut in accordance with the Middleburg limit, and not look as if she'd dressed in a hurry and forgotten her collar ! [Rand laughs. Mrs. Rand. [Of stage.] Really! I should think she was much too old to be so advanced in the styles as that ! Cicely. The flowers are lovely all over the house. Father, you ought to see them ! They came from a New York florist. [Mrs. Rand of stage: "Good-by. See you at five."] Our man here hadn't anything but ferns and aniline-dyed pinks. Mrs. Rand. [Reenters.] Kate Mulholland called up to tell me Mary Carterson's mother-in- THE CITY 457 law is visiting her from South Norwalk, and went down street this niorning wearing one of those new washtub hats, — and she's sixty, if she isn't over! She was born in 1846, — at least she used to be ! Rand. [Still reading.] When do you expect your crowd to come this afternoon? Cicely. Crowd? [She laughs derisively.] The only thing that can get a crowd in Middle- burg is a fire or a funeral 1 Mrs. Rand. As we expect Teresa at four, I asked everybody to come in at five. But you know, father, ''everybody'' in Middleburg isn't many ! Cicely. Not many — nor much ! Rand. You have the best the town affords, and it's good old stock ! Cicely. I'm afraid Tess'll think it's rather 458 THE CITY tame for a girl who has been presented at two European courts ! Mrs. Rand. Yes, I'm afraid she'll find it awfully dull. Don't you think, father, we could go to New York, if only for the winter months? Rand. Don't tell me you're ambitious, too? Mrs. Rand. Well, I've done all, in a social way, a woman can in Middleburg, and I want to do more. Cicely. You can't tell the difference in Middleburg between a smart afternoon tea and a Mother's Meeting, or a Sunday-school teacher's conclave, or a Lenten Sewing Circle, or a Fair for the Orphan Asylum, or any other like "Event" ! It's always the same old people and the same old thing ! Oh, Lord, we live in a cemetery ! Rand. Molly, wouldn't you rather be it in Middleburg — than nit in the City ? THE CITY 459 Mrs. Rand. But with your influence and our friends, — we'd take letters, — I would soon have the position your -^lio. was entitled to in the City, too. Cicely. I don't care a darn about the posi- tion, if I can only have something to do, and son^ething to see ! Who wants to smell new- mown hay, if he can breathe in gasolene on Fifth Avenue instead ! Think of the theatres ! the crowds ! Think of being able to go out on the street and see some one you didnH know even by sight ! ! Rand. [Laughs, amused.] Molly ! How can you deceive yourself? A banker from a small country town would give you about as much posi- tion as he could afford to pay for on the West Side, above Fifty-ninth Street. Mrs. Rand. But, George said you'd been 46o THE CITY asked to join a big corporation in New York, which would make the family's everlasting for- tune, and social position beside. Rand. [Looks up, angry.] George had no right telling you that. I told him only in con- fidence. What is this anyway, — a family con- spiracy ? Cicely. No, it is the American legation shut up in Peking, longing for a chance to escape from social starvation. Rand. [Thoroughly irritated.] Now listen! This has got to stop, once and for all ! So long as I'm the head of this family, it's going to keep ifs head and not lose it ! And our home is here, and will be here, if to hold it I have to die in harness. Mrs. Rand. [Going to him a^ectionately .] Father, don't be angry ! You know your will is THE CITY . 461 law with all of us. And so long as you want it, we'll stay right here. Cicely. Giving teas to the wallflower brigade, and dinners to the Bible class! And our cotil- lion favors will be articles appropriate for the missionaries' boxes ! Oh, Lord ! Rand. Mother, Cicely has convinced me of one thing. Cicely. [Delighted.] Not really! Good! What? Rand. You go to no finishing school in New York ! You get finished all you're going to, right here in Middleburg. New York would com- pletely turn your head ! Cicely. Well, don't w^orry; Middleburg will ''finish'' me all right! Good and strong! Maybe New York would turn your head, but Middleburg turns my — 462 THE CITY [She is going to say ^^ stomach, ^^ hut her mother interrupts. Mrs. Rand. Cicely! [Enter George. He is a handsome, clean-cut young American, of about twenty-seven, George. Hello, everybody ! Rand. [Surprised.] Hello, George ! What's the matter ? It's only half past four ! Noth- ing happened in the office? George. Nothing! All day ! That's why I am here. I thought I'd be in good time for Tess ; and, so far as missing anything really doing in the office is concerned, I could have left at ten this morning — [adds half aside] or almost any morning, in this — our city ! Cicely. Look out! The word ^' city'' is a red rag to a bull with father, to-day ! And it's for good in the graveyard ! I'm going to dress. THE CITY 463 Thank the Lord, I've actually got somebody new to look smart for, if it's only my sister ! [Yawns and starts to go. Rand. Who's coming to your tea party ? Cicely. [As she goes out. \ All the names are on the tombstones in the two churchyards, plus Miss Carterson's mother-in-law from South Norwalk ! Mrs. Rand. I must dress, too. [Going over to Rand.] Dear, aren't you going to change your coat, and help me? Rand. Oh, Molly, don't ask me to bore my- self with your old frumps ! Mrs. Rand. I have to! And I don't know that I take any more interest than you do in what sort of a hat Mary Carterson's mother is w^earing ! But if it were in New York — Rand. [Sneers.] Stop ! I meant what I said — let's drop that ! 464 THE CITY Mrs. Rand. All right, — I didn't say any- thing ! George. Look here, father, — mother's right. Rand. [Interrupting.] No, you do the "look- ing,'' George, — and straight w w}' eyes! [He does so.] Your mother's wrong, but it isn't her fault, — it's you children. Mrs. Rand. [Remonstrating.] Now, father — George. But we're not children, and that's the mistake you make ! Pm twenty-seven. Mrs. Rand. Yes, father, you forget, — George is twenty-seven ! George. I'm no longer a boy I Rand. Then why did you tell your mother about this offer I had from New York, when I told you it was absolutely confidential I And a man in business knows what the word "confi- dential'' means. THE CITY 46s Mrs. Rand. It was my fault; / wormed it out of George ! George. Nonsense, mother ! [To his father.] I told, because I thought you needed a good, big hump, and I believed, if all of us put our shoulders to it, we could move you. Rand. Out of Middleburg? George. Yes ! Rand. Into New York? George. Yes ! Rand. Listen, George, — George. [Going on.] What position is there for a fellow like me in a hole like this ? [Rand tries to interrupt, Mrs. Rand. [Stops him.] No, father, let George have his say out ! Rand. All right ! Come on, George, we'll have it out now, — but this must settle it I 466 THE CITY George. You grew up with this town. You and Middleburg reached your prime together, — so she's good enough for you. Besides, you are part oj it, so you haven't any point of view, — you're too close ! Rand. What's good enough for your father ought to be good enough for you. Mrs. Rand. That's true, George. George. Grandfather Rand was a real estate dealer in East Middleburg, with an income of about two thousand a year. I notice your father^ s limit wasn't good enough for you ! Rand. No, but my father turned me loose, without a cent, to make my own way ! Your father will leave you the richest man in your town^ — with the best established name, with two banks as safe as Gibraltar behind you ! George. But, I tell you, Middleburg and her THE CITY 467 banks are just as picayune to me, in comparison with the City and a big career there, as East Middleburg and real estate were to you in 1S60! Rand. Good God, how Httle you know of the struggle and fight / went through ! George. No, sir ! Good God — Rand. [Interrupting.] Don't swear before your father. I don't Uke it ! George. Well, — what you don't realize is that / am just starving after a big fight and a big struggle — for even bigger stakes than you fought for ! I'm my father's own son — [Going up to him with a sudden impulse of pride and affection, and putting his arm about his shoulder.] Accept this great city chance, father! There's miUions in it, and no fight ! They're offering the position to you on a gold plate. All I'll ask of you afterward is to launch me. Give me a 468 THE CITY start ; the rest will be up to me ! All I'll ask you to do then is watch. Rand. No, I'm too old now. Mrs. Rand. Now / must join in ! It's ridic- ulous you calling yourself too old. Besides, it reflects on me ! [Smiling.] Men and women of our age in the City dress and act just as young as their children, more or less. Old age has gone out of fashion ! There's no such thing, except in dull little country towns ! George. Exactly! That's just what stagna- tion in the small place does for you. Come to the City, father ! It'll give you a new lease of life1 Rand. No, I donH want to! George. I wouldn't have the selfish courage to go on persuading you, if I didn't feel you'd be glad of it in the end. And besides, you're one against all the rest of us, — Mother, Teresa, THE CITY 469 Cicely — we're all choking here, dying of exas- peration, dry-rotting for not enough to do I Rand. Not at all ! It's only amusement and excitement you children are after, and you've inoculated your mother with the germ. Mrs. Rand. No! If I'm restless and dis- satisfied here, it's my own fault. I sympathize with Teresa having to come back to this, after New York and all Europe. I'm tired, myself, of our humdrum, empty existence. I'm tired of being the leading woman in a society where there's nobody to lead ! I'm tired of the nar- row point of view here ! I'm tired of living to-day on yesterday's news, and wearing styles adapted to what Middleburg will stand for ! I sympathize with Cicely. I want her to have a chance with the real world — not our expur- gated edition ! I know what she means when 470 THE CITY she says the quiet of the country gets on her nerves ! that the birds keep her awake ! that she longs for the rest of a cable-car and the lullaby of a motor-bus ! Yes, I want the City for myself, but even more for my children, and most of all for George to make a name and career for himself ! Rand. You've all got an exaggerated idea of the importance of the City. This country isn't made or run by New York or its half dozen sisters ! It's in the smaller towns, — • and spread all over the country, — that you find the bone and sinew of the United States ! George. But for a young man to make a career for himself — I don't mean in business only, — in politics, in — Rand. [Interrupting.] You don't need the City! What's the matter with here? THE CITY 471 George. Look at what Bert Vorhees has done, going to New York ! He's going to be District Attorney, they say. And how long has he been there ? Five or six years ! I had a long talk with Eleanor Vorhees when she was here last month ; it's wonderful what Bert's accomplished ! And look at Eleanor herself ! By George, she's the finest girl I've ever seen ! Rand. Still, did Lincoln need New^ York? Did Grant? Did a metropolis turn out Mc- Kinley, or have anything to do with forming the character and career of Grover Cleveland? You're cheating yourself, if you're honest in your talk with me ! All you want of the City is what you can get out of it, — not what you can do for it ! George. No, you judge from your own point of view ! Middleburg makes you look through 472 THE CITY the wrong end of the opera-glass. You canH judge from my point of view. Rand. When you're my age, if you've kept as abreast of the times as I have, you'll be lucky. But if you're in New York, you won't have had time. There, you'll know one thing to perfec- tion — but only one — where your interests are centred ! All city men specialize — they have to get success, and keep it ! Every walk in life, there, is a marathon ! But the worst of it is, the goal isn't stationary. It's like the horizon, — no man can reach it ! George. But why blame the City? Rand. Because the City turns ambition into selfish greed ! There, no matter what you get, you w^ant more ! And when you've got more, at God knows what price sometimes, it's not enough ! There's no such thing as being satis- THE CITY 473 fied ! First, you want to catch up with your neighbor ; then you want to pass him ; and then you die disappointed if you haven't left him out of sight ! Mrs. Rand. I'm afraid your father's deter- mined. And forty years w^ith him has taught me two things, — first, when he is determined, you might just as well realize it in the begin- ning; and second, in the end you're sure to he glad he was! Rand. Thank you, Molly. And I was never more determined than I am this time. Mrs. Rand. \With a sigh of half-amused resignation.] Then I'll go and put on the dress I got in New York, which the dressmaker said I'd made her spoil in order that my neighbors at home shouldn't say I'd gone out of my senses. [She exits. 474 THE CITY George. Well, father, if yoii won't -leave, let me go away ! Let me go to the City on my own account. Bert Vorhees has been urging me to come for over a year. He says politics in the City are crying for just such new, clean men as me. He wants me to help him; that, in itself, is a big opening. I won't ask for any help from you. Just let me go, as your father let you go, to work out, myself, my own sal- vation ! Rand. Your own damnation it would be ! No, sir, you stay here as long as I live and have any power over or influence with you. George. Suppose Vm stubborn as you are, and go, even if it has to be against your will. Rand. Look here, boy ! You're trained in my methods, for my job. Those methods are all right for Middleburg, where I'm known and THE CITY 475 respected. No one has been to this town more, in a civic way, than I have. The Park Street Congregational Church couldn't have been built, nor halfway supported as it has been, without my help ; and I could go on for some length, if I liked, in much the same sort of strain. What / do in this town is right. But the public libra- ries of Middleburg wouldn't help me in the City, nor the Park Street Church be a sufficient guarantee for my banking methods, to let me risk myself in the hornet's nest New York is at present. George. [Almost laughing at the idea.] You don't mean you would be afraid of any investi- gation — ? Rand. Here, no ! I've always kept to the right side of the line, but I've kept very close, and the line may be drawn differently here. My 476 THE CITY conscience is clear, George, but my common sense is a good watch-dog. [The Maidservant enters. Maidservant. Here's a man says he has an appointment with you, sir. Rand. [Startled and a little angry.] No one has an appointment with me ! Maidservant. Well, I didn't know! [Enter Hannock, during the speech. The Maidservant looks a little alarmed at what she has done, as she goes out. Hannock. [Very hard.] I told you, in the letter I sent here to-day, I was going to call this afternoon. Rand. I destroyed that letter without reading it, — as I have the last half dozen you've sent me. Hannock. That's what made it necessary for me to call in person ! THE CITY 477 [George looks from one to the other, dum- founded. George. Father? Rand. [To Hannock, referring to George.] This is my son. I'm glad he is here, to be a witness. Go ahead ! I take it, as you seem to be in the business, you've made yourself ac- quainted with the law of blackmail! Hannock. I know what you've already told me — but I don't give a damn ! I've got noth- ing to lose, and nothing to get, e:^cept money, from you. You wonH jail me, anyway, for you know a trial here would ruin you, no matter what happened to me ! George. Here, you — ! Rand. [Taking a step forward.] No, George ! Keep your temper. This man says I ruined his mother — [In great shame and emotion. 478 THE CITY George. [To Haxnock.] You liar ! IL\NNOCK. Then why did he give her a regu- lar allowance till she died? and why did he keep on giving to me ? — for a while ! R-\XD. George, I feel badly. Get me some whiskey and water. [George, hurries out. Rand, in rising anger:] I kept on giving to you, till I found out you were a sot and a -degenerate blackguard — a drug fiend and a moral criminal. I kept on helping you after three houses of cor- rection had handled you, and one prison ! Then I stopped ! WTiat was the use, — money was only helping you on I Hannock. Still, for my mother's sake, you can't let me starve! You oughtn't to have torn up those letters ; then you'd have had the black- mail in writing. I told you, if you didn't give me what I want, I'd print your letters to my THE CITY 479 mother right here in this town. The anti-saloon paper, that hates you for not joining its move- ment, would be glad to get them and show you up for a God damn whited sepulchre ! Rand. [Quiet, controlling himself by a terrific efort.] And suppose that didn't frighten me ! Hannock. I've just got on to something bigger yet, I can use by way of a lever! The two years you had me working in the bank, I kept my eyes open. If it hadn't been for the yellow streak in me, I guess I'd have made a banker, all right. I liked it, and I seem to catch on to things sorter by instinct. You were the hig thing, and I watched and studied your methods to make 'em mine ! Rand. Well? Hannock. Yes! "Well," by God! I guess you realize just as plain as I do that those very 48o THE CITY methods in New York, that have been raising hell with the insurance companies and all sorts of corporations, aren't a patch on some of your deals I know of ! And I tell you, if there should be a State investigation in Middleburg, you'd go under as sure as I stand here ; and if I had to go to prison, I'd stand a sure chance of passing you in the yard some day — wearing the same old stripes yourself. Rand. [In a paroxysm of rage.] It's a lie ! It's a lie ! Just to get money out of me ! I told you, before you began, you'd come to blackmail 1 [He chokes. Hannock. Well, you know how to prove it ! Have me arrested ; charge me with it ; and let the whole thing he thrashed out I [A second'' s pause.] Aw — you don't dare. You know you don't ! THE CITY 481 [Enter Cicely, looking girlishly lovely in a fresh white dress and corn-colored sash. Cicely. Father, aren't you going to dress — and help us? [Hannock looks at Cicely, admiring her. Rand. Excuse me, Cicely, I'm engaged just now. Cicely. I beg your pardon. [She goes out. Hannock. [Following her with his eyes.] She's growing into a lovely girl, your daughter ! It would be a pity — [He speaks in broken sentences. Rand. [Giving in.] How much do you want? Hannock. I want two thousand dollars. Rand. For how long? Hannock. For as long as it lasts! Rand. [With a reaction.] No, I won't do it ! 482 THE CITY You'll gamble, or squander this in some low way, and be back before the week's out ! What's the use ! I can't keep this up for ever ! Hannock. [Bringing a pistol out of Ms pocket, quickly.] Do you see that? [He puts it on the desk. Rand. [Greatly frightened.] Good God ! Hannock. Don't be frightened ! It's not for you. I'm no murderer ! It's for myself. Rand. [Suffering from shock.] How do you mean? Hannock. [Taking up the pistol, and handling it almost affectionately.] I'm never without it. And when I can't get anything more out of you, when I'm clean empty, — not a crust, or drink, or drug to be had, — then I'll take this friend to my heart, so — [Placing pistol over his heart. THE CITY 483 Rand. [Frightened, calls feebly:] George! Hannock. Oh, not yet ! [Taking pistol from Us chest.] I'm not ready yet. But remember, when you've signed your last check for me, you will he responsible for this. [He touches the pistol; then hides it quickly in his pocket, as George enters with whiskey and water. George. I'm sorry to take so long, but I had to persuade mother not to come with me, when she heard you were faint. And I thought you wouldn't want — Rand. Yes, quite right — [He drinks, excitedly, tremblingly, feebly. George. [To Hannock.] You can see my father is ill; surely, ordinary human feeling will make you realize to-day is no time for you to — 484 THE CITY Rand. [Interrupting.] It's all right, George. Hannock and I have had it out while you were gone. [Writing a check.] We understand each other now ! Hannock. I've made my position quite clear to your father. Rand. [Giving Hannock the check.] Here — and for God's sake try to behave yourself ! [Look- ing at him intently, with a strange, almost yearning look, as if he really cared whether Hannock be- haved himself or not.] Try to do right ! Hannock. Thanks for your advice and money ! [To George.] Good-by! Rand. Good-by ! [George only nods his head, looking at Han- nock with unconcealed dislike. Hannock goes out. Rand sinks on his arms, his head falling on the table. George goes to him in alarm. THE CITY 48s George. Father ! Rand. I'm not ^Yell. I've felt dizzy all day. It was more than I could stand ! George. I don't approve of your giving him monev '. Till you once take a firm stand, there'll never be any let up. Rand. But I owe it to him, George ! I owe it to him. George. Nonsense! What sort of a woman was his mother ? Rand. She was a dressmaker in East Middle- burg; hadn't a very good reputation. I doubt verv much if what he says is true. George. Well then? Raxd. Yes, but more than he knows is true ! — and worse ! George. How do you mean ? Rand. Yes, the whole thing is more than I 486 THE CITY can carry any longer ! I'm too old ! Your younger shoulders must help me bear it, George. It breaks my heart to tell you, and shames me, George, but I must unburden myself. Besides, I need help — I need advice ! And besides, you'll see how you can't go away and leave me alone here ! [He rises in fear and excitement. \ I'm your father, and you've got to stand by me and help me ! I can't stand alone any longer ! George. Father ! [He goes to him. Rand. Promise me, George, promise me you won't leave me here ! You'll stand by me ! George. Yes, father, I promise yon! Rand. [Sinks hack exhausted into his chair. A second^s pause.] That man who just left here don't know it, but — [He stops from dread and shame of finishing. THE CITY 487 George. But what? Rand. I'm his father ! George. [Astounded.] Th3it fellow^ s? Rand. That fellow's ! George. Then of course he knows it ! Rand. No, it would be a stronger lever for money than any he has used, and he doesn't hesitate to use the strongest he can find — or invent ! In return for the financial arrangement I made with her, his mother swore he should never know. As a matter of fact, she was anxious, for her own sake, to keep it quiet. She moved to Massachusetts, passed herself off as a widow, and married a man named Hannock, there ; but he died, and so back she came, passing off this boy, here, as Hannock's son ! [He groans.] What a story for a father to own up to, before a son like you. [After a second^s pause. 488 THE CITY George. Don't think of that ! DonH mind me! After all, I'm a twentieth cexviwry son, you know, and New York at heart ! Rand. Of course your mother's never dreamed. That I couldn't bear — George. That's right. Mother's not me, — she's nineteenth century and Middleburg ! Rand. Now, you see I do owe this young man something. I can't shut my eyes to it ! George. Yes. I'm even wondering, father, if you don't owe him — the truth! Rand. No, no, I couldn't trust him with it ! George. Still, father, don't you owe it to him? Even more than money! And don't you suppose he suspects it, anyway? Rand. No, and he mustnH know. He'd tell everybody ! It would be my ruin ; and your mother ? — break her heart, — and for what good ? THE CITY 489 George. \With a sudden idea.] Father, why not come to the City and escape him? Rand. Escape him ! He'd follow ! That's his hunting ground ! When you came back home from college, I'd had him in the bank a couple of years. But I didn't want you two to meet, so I got him a good place in Boston. But in six months he'd lost it, and was mixed up in some scrape in New York ! No ! Remember, George, you gave me your promise you wouldn't leave me ! You'll stay with me here. We must take care of this man, of course, for our own sakes, as well as his. I am his father ! George. And I'm his brother, and Cicely and Tess are his sisters ! It's hard lines on him ! I can't help feeling, father, we owe him a good deal. Rand. You'll stand by me — so long as I live. [Excitedly.] Promise me solemnly ! 490 THE CITY George. I have promised you, father. Rand. And, if anything should ever happen to me, you'd look after — Hannock, wouldn't you, George? George. Yes, father. I consider you — we — owe Hannock a future ! Rand. But you'll keep my secret — promise me that, too ! George. I give you my word of honor, father. Rand. {Halj collapses and sways.] I feel so badly again ! I — I'm going to my room to lie down. Don't let them disturb me till supper- time. [George goes to help Mm out. Rand smiles, though with an efort.] No, no ! I'm not so far gone as all that, — not yet a while, boy, not quite yet — ! [Goes out alone. George. [Coming hack.] Who'd have thought it ! Who^d have thought it ! Father ! THE CITY 491 {A heavy jail is heard in the hall outside. George looks up, and then starts on, but stops and lifts his head suddenly to listen. A look of fright and dread is on his face. Then he turns to the door and walks into the hall. A moment after, off stage, he cries, "Father !" [The following scene takes place off stage. Mrs. Rand. [In a voice of excitement.] What was it? Father? Did he faint? [Calling.] James ! James, bring me water, quick ! George. I'll telephone for the doctor. I'll get Dr. Hull from across the street. He'll be the quickest. [Passes by the door from Left to Right. The telephone bell is heard. The Maidservant hurries past the door with water.] Hello. Give me sixteen — Mrs. Rand. [To Maidservant.] Is John in the kitchen having his supper ? 492 THE CITY Maidservant. Yes, ma'am. George. Hello? Mrs. Rand. Tell him to come here to help us carry Mr. Rand into the parlor, and you come right back. Maidservant. Yes, ma'am. [She again goes hurriedly past the door from Left to Right, as George is talking. George. [At ^ phone, of stage.] Is that you, Dr. Hull? Can you come right over? Father — looks to me like a stroke ! Good-by. [Rings telephone hell, and passes before the door on his way from Right to Left. Mrs. Rand. I've sent for John. I thought between us we could carry him. [Maidservant passes through hall from Right to Left.] Susan, get . a pillow from upstairs, and put it on the sofa in the parlor, and send Miss Cicely. THE CITY 493 Maidservant. Yes, ma'am. [Before doorway, John passes from Right to Left. George. Here, John ! Father's very ill. John, we want to get him on to the sofa in the parlor. Cicely. What's the matter? What is it, mother ? Mrs. Rand. We don't know ourselves, dear, but we're waiting for Dr. Hull. George. You hold his head up, mother. And John — that's right ! Mrs. Rand. Give me the pillowy Susan, — help me. George. Cicely, go into the library, close the door, and wait for me. As soon as the doctor comes — [Front doorbell rings outside. Mrs. Rand. There he is ! Susan, go to the door. 494 THE CITY [Enter Cicely. She closes the door behind her, frightened, and leans against it, listening. Cicely. [Whispers.] He's dead, — I know it, — he's dead ! [She carefully opens the door on a crack to listen. She sees Maidservant.] Susan ! [Maidservant approaches in the hall beyond the half open door.] Was it the doctor? Maidservant. [In doorway.] Yes, Miss. Cicely. What did he say? Maidservant. I don't know. Miss. I didn't go in the room. John. [Appearing in the hall.] Susan! \Whispers. Cicely. What is it, John? What does the doctor say? John. [Embarrassed.] I — I — don't know, Miss. Mr. George'll tell you. He wants you, Susan, to telephone to his aunt, Mrs. Loring, THE CITY 495 and ask her to have word 'phoned round to the guests for this afternoon not to come. You're to say Mr. Rand has been taken suddenly ill, and will she come over at once. Maidservant. All right. [She goes. Cicely. Poor papa! He isn't dead, then? [Susan is heard ringing the ^ phone. John. Mr. George'll tell you. [He goes of. Maidservant. Hello ! Give me thirty-one, please. [George comes into the room to Cicely. Cicely. How is he ? George. Cicely ! Cicely. [Frightened.] What? Maidservant. [Heard outside.] Is that Mrs. Loring, please — this is Susan — 496 THE CITY [George shuts the hall door ; he puts his arm around Cicely. George. Cicely, father's dead. Cicely. Oh, George ! [Bursts into tears. George. [Putting his arms around her again.] Cicely, dear, don't cry, little girl ! Go upstairs to mother ; she wants you. And stay with her till Aunt Nellie comes — Cicely. [Crying.] Oh, poor mother, poor mother ! [Cicely goes out, leaving door open. Maidservant. [Of stage at the telephone.] Yes, ma'am. Good-by. George. Susan? Maidservant. [In the doorway.] Yes, sir ? George. If any strangers come to the door to ask questions, tell them nothing. Do you know Mr. Straker ? THE CITY 497 Maidservant. No, sir. George. Well, he's on the evening newspaper here. He's sure to hear we've put off our little party, and come around to find out. If any one asks, never mind who, — you know nothing except that Mr. Rand was taken suddenly sick. That's all. You don't know how, or what it is. You understand ? Maidservant. Yes, sir. George. All right. [Nods to her to go. She goes out. He walks over to the desk and looks where his father sat and stood.] Why, it was only a minute ago he was there, talking with me ! It doesn't seem possible — that now — he's dead — dead — [he wipes the tears out of his eyes, and gives a long sigh; sinks in the scat] gone for good out of this life ! I don't under- stand it ! What does it all mean ? [He is star- 498 THE CITY ing straight ahead oj him. Suddenly a thought comes to him and takes possession of him.] I know one thing it means for me ! — [He rises and stands straight.] It means New York. [There is a tapping on the glass of the window. He doesn't hear it at first. Tt is Teresa, outside, tapping. She taps again. He looks up and sees her.] Tess ! ! [He hurries to the window and opens it.] Tess ! [Embraces her enthusiastically. Teresa. I thought I'd stroll in and surprise you ! It's the same old room ! — [smiling around, as she recognizes things] not a thing changed ! — nor in the town, either, from the smelly old barn of a depot — past the same gay houses with the empty old iron urns, right up to ours, — bigger and uglier than all the rest ! Nothing's changed ! And oh, George, how can I live here ? THE CITY 499 I'll never be able to stand it ! I can't do it ! I know I can't do it ! [Kisses him again. George. Tess ! You won't have to ! We're going to live in New York ! Teresa. George ! ! What do you mean ? George. We're going to live in the City ! Teresa. Oh, George ! You don't know how much that means to me ! I can be married in New York, then ! George. [Amazed,] Married ! Teresa. Sh ! That's my surprise ! Heavens, how hard it's been to keep it out of my letters ! I met him first in Egypt, and then he joined us at Nice, at Paris, and in London, and there he proposed. George. But who? Teresa. I just told you ! 500 THE CITY George. [Smiling.] No, you didn't ! Teresa. Oh ! Donald Van Vranken. George. Don Van Vranken ? Teresa. Yes ! Think what my position will be in New York ! George. But Tess ! He's the fastest fellow going ! He's notorious ! Look at the scandals that have been more or less public property about him. It's the last one that drove him abroad, afraid of the witness bench ! Teresa. Oh, you can't believe everything you hear ! He's a handsome darling, and I love him, and he loves me, — so don't worry ! George. But I can't help worrying ! Your happiness isn't safe with a man like Don Van Vranken. Teresa. Oh, come, you haven't been away from Middleburg enough ! Here, maybe, the THE CITY SOI husbands do go to the altar Hke Easter hUes ! But in the City, you don't marry a man for what he has or hasn't been ; you marry him for what he is and what you hope he's going to be ! But I did dread a wedding here — with his people and friends ! How in the world did you per- suade father ? [A second's pause, as George suddenly comes hack with a terrific shock. George. Good God! I forgot! I've some awful news ! Teresa. Mother — ! George. No, — father. Teresa. What? — not— ? George. Yes. To-day, — just a little while ago ! Suddenly — in a second ! His heart gave out — I was talking with him two minutes before. 502 THE CITY Teresa. Oh, poor mother! Where is she? Let me go to her ! George. She's up in her room. Teresa. Mother ! — [.4^ she goes out in great distress, she is heard again in the distance.] Mother ! ! George. [Stands where she left him — alone — his head bowed. He straightens up, and lifts his head; and his face flushes with the uncontrolled impulses of youth and ambition. With a voice of suppressed excitement, full of emotion, and with a trembling ring of triumph, he says:] The City . . . ! the curtain falls ACT II Scene: Several years later. The library in the Rands' house in New York. The walls are panelled in light walnut. Two French windows, with the sun shining in, are on the Left. There are small doors, Right and Left Centre, opening into other rooms. Between the bookcases, which occupy most of the wall space, are marble busts, standing in deep niches. There are flowers about. The sofa, chairs, hangings, and cushions are of golden yellow brocade, except one big armchair, upholstered in red, standing in front of the open wood fire. A Sargent portrait is built in over the mantel. A small typewriting table is at one side. Almost in 503 504 THE CITY the centre of the room, with chairs grouped near it, is a long carved table, with all the desk fittings of a luxurious hut busy man ; there is also a bunch of violets on it, in a silver goblet — and at present it is strewn with papers, etc. Foot is arranging the fire. There is a knock at the door. Hannock enters. He comes in, in evident and only partly suppressed, nervous excite- ment. He wears a white fiower in his buttonhole. Hannock. Hello, Foot. Is Mr. Rand out? Foot. Yes, sir. [Rises, having finished the fire. Hannock. He left no message for me? Foot. Yes, sir. He left some papers on the desk, which he said he'd like you to go over carefully, at once, and two letters he wanted you. to answer. Hannock. All right. Get me a package of THE CITY 505 longish papers, with an elastic band around them, in my overcoat in the hall. Foot. Yes, sir. Hannock. Has the stenographer been here? Foot. Yes, but he's gone ; said he couldn't wait any longer, as he has an appointment. Hannock. [Angry; making nervous, irritable movements.] He'll be sorry ! I'll see to it he loses Mr. Rand's job, that's all, if he don't knuckle down to me ! Foot. Yes, sir. It's none of my business, but Mr. Rand didn't like your being late. He said you knew it w^as an important day for him, and he couldn't understand it. Hannock. He'll understand all right when I explain ! It's an important day for me too ! Foot. [Eagerly.] Is he going to get the nomi- nation for governor, sir ? 5o6 THE CITY Hannock. Nothing surer ! — except his elec- tion. That'll be a knockout, and then you'll see us both forging ahead. Foot. I'm sure I wish you luck, sir. Hannock. Thanks ! Oh, yes, I shall tie my fortune up to Mr. Rand's! Foot. Yes, sir — [He goes out. Hannock. Yes, sir, [imitating Foot] — damned "important'^ day for me, too! Phew! [A great sigh, showing he is carrying something big on his mind.] I wonder just how he'll take it? I wish it was over. [He goes to the typewriting table, rummages in a drawer, takes out a little box, containing a hypodermic needle, and tries it;- then, putting it to his arm just above the wrist, he presses it, half grinning and mumbling to himself, — THE CITY 507 looking furtively over his shoulder, fearing an interruption. Just as he finishes, the door opens. Cicely half comes in. She is in hat, gloves, etc. Cicely. [Half whispering.] You're back first. [He nods, hiding the hypodermic needle.] I've just this minute come in, and I didn't meet a soul. I've sent for Eleanor Vorhees — she's the best. [Enter Teresa hurriedly, in great and angry emotional excitement, pushing past Cicely. Teresa. Good morning, Cicely. Where's George ? Cicely. Give it up ! [Following her in. Hannock. He'll be in soon, Mrs. Van Vran- ken. He's an appointment with Mr. Vorhees. [Enter Foot. 5o8 THE CITY Foot. I can't find any papers with an elastic band, sir. Hannock. [Irritated.] Oh, well, perhaps there wasn't a band ! Use your common sense ! I'll look myself. [To the ladies.] Excuse me. [Goes out, followed by Foot. Cicely. What's the matter with you, Tess? Don on the loose again? Teresa. I don't know and I don't care ! I've ieft him. Cicely. Left your husband ! — for good ? Honest ? Or has he left you ? Teresa. What do you mean by that? That's a nice thing for my sister to say ! Cicely. My dear ! — even donkeys — I mean sisters — have ears, — and you must know how every one has been talking about you and Jimmy Cairns ! THE CITY 509 Teresa. Well, if I can't depend upon my own family, I don't suppose I can expect my husband to protect me. Cicely. After all, what can Don say? He can't find any fault with yon ! Teresa. Exactly ! — and I went to him, per- fectly calm and reasonable, and said very sweetly : *'Don, I'm going to divorce you. We needn't have any disagreeable feeling about it, or any scandal. I wall simply bring the divorce, men- tioning this woman" — Cicely. Mrs. Judly? Teresa. Of course — but doing it as quietly as possible, behind closed doors, or with sealed papers, or whatever they call it. Only, of course he must give me the children ! Cicely. Oh ! — and he refused ? Teresa. Absolutely refuses, — and to let me get Sio THE CITY the divorce as I propose ! He will only agree to a legal separation, the children's time to be divided between us. That's all he'll stand for. Cicely. Let him agree to what he likes ! You've got your case, all right. You could prove everything you want to, couldn't you? Teresa. [Getting angry.] Yes, but he — Oh, the beast ! — he dares to threaten ! If I attempt to do this, he'll bring a counter suit, mentioning Mr. Cairns ! Cicely. Tess ! Teresa. You see ! He ties my hands ! Cicely. But not if he couldn't — Teresa. Sh-h ! Let's talk about something else. I don't want that horrid Hannock to know anything. I despise him ! Cicely. [On the defensive.] I don't know why! THE CITY 511 Teresa. Well, I'm not alone in my feelings. I don't know any one who likes him. Cicely. Yes, you do, because Fm one. Teresa. He always affects me like a person who would listen at keyholes ! Cicely. Some day you'll be very sorry you said that. [Hannock reenters. Hannock. Mr. Vorhees is here with Miss Vorhees. Cicely. I asked Eleanor to come. [She goes out to greet them. Teresa. [To Hannock.] Let me know the minute Mr. Rand comes in. [She goes out. Hannock takes up letters on desk which arc Jor him to answer, goes to the typewriting table, and sits down to write, reading over to himself one of the letters — mumbling the words. He laughs to himself. 512 THE CITY Hannock. Ha ! And I suppose he thinks this is legitimate business ! — that this sort of a deal goes hand in hand with his '^ clean record," with his ''white poHtics," with the Vorhees "good government." Humph! "Teddy, Jr." is a good nickname for him, — I guess not ! The public would put George Rand in the Roosevelt class with a vengeance, wouldn't they ! — if they were on to this one piece of manipulation ! Following in father's footsteps, all right, and going popper one better ! That's what ! And he pretends to think his methods are on the level ! All the same, I guess he is just as square as the rest of 'em. You can't tell me Vorhees isn't feathering his nest good ! You bet I'm on to Vorhees! [He looks up, half startled.] Damn it, when am I going to stop talking in my sleep when I'm wide awake? [Looking at the place THE CITY 513 on his arm, and smoothing it over.] Too much of the needle, I guess ! [Enter Servant with Vorhees. Servant goes out. Vorhees. Good morning, Hannock. Hannock. Good morning, Mr. Vorhees. You're ten minutes early for your appointment, sir. Vorhees. Mr. Rand is generally ready ahead of time. I thought I'd probably find him. Hannock. He isn't here yet. I hope he gets the nomination for governor ! Vorhees. Well, I'm inclined to think it's all up to him now, Hannock, and that to-day will decide. Hannock. Isn't it wonderful how far he's got in barely five years ! ■ Vorhees. Well, it was Rand's good luck — 514 THE CITY to come along at the right psychological moment — the party tired of the political gambler, the manipulator. We wanted a candidate with just the freshness, the force and stability of a small town's bringing up. The whole of Middleburg, no matter what the party, will come forward unanimously, and speak for their young fellow townsman. His family is the boast of the place ! His father's name stands for everything that's best and finest in public and private life, and, when George took hold in New York, with all the political vitality and straightforward vigor of his blood and bringing up, and not only helped along our reforms, but created new ones of his own, giving his time and his strength and his money to the public good ! Well, you know what the man in the street's been calling him for a year now? THE CITY SIS Hannock. [With a covert sneer] "Teddy, Jr.!'' VoRHEES. Yes, "Teddy, Jr." That idea ought to land him in Albany, all right ! Hannock. [With the bare suggestion of a bully's manner.] I hope, Mr. Vorhees, I haven't been altogether overlooked in all the enthusiasm. Vorhees. [With a big drop.] How do you mean? Hannock. Well, I've been George Rand's right hand, you know ! I've done my share of the work. Where do I come in on the reward end? Vorhees. [Strongly.] I really don't under- stand you. Hannock. [Smiling, but serious and deter- mined, and speaking deliberately.] What do I get out of it ? Vorhees. [AJter a pause.] You get a damned 5i6 THE CITY lot of pride in the man you've had the honor of serving, that's what you get ! Hannock. [Angry at the snub, and suspicious that he is to be thrown down.] And a hell of a lot of goad that'd do me ! Look here, Mr. Vorhees, I might as well have my say out now ! If George Rand wants to be elected Governor of New York, he and his electors have got to square me ! Vorhees. Why, you talk like a fool — or a scoundrel ! Hannock. Well, never mind what I talk like; I know what I'm talking about, and I say there's something good in the way of a job coming to his confidential secretary out of ''Gov.'' Rand's election ! [Vorhees half laughs, half sneers, but still is slightly disturbed. George enters. George. Hello! Am I late? Sorry! THE CITY 517 VoRHEES. No, I'm early. Well ! ! Can we have our talk? George. [Smiling at himself.] I believe I'm nervous ! Go ahead ! Fire your first gun ! [Takes a chair. Hannock also sits. VoRHEES. [With a glance toward Hannock.] I'll wait, if you have any business to discuss with Mr. Hannock. George. No, nothing in a hurry; that's all right, go on — VoRHEES. Well, if you don't mind, I'd like to talk wdth you privately. George. Certainly. Would you mind, Han- nock, waiting in — VoRHEES. [Interrupting ; to Hannock.] Elea- nor's in the drawing-room. Cicely sent for her ; wants her advice, I believe, about something or other, very important I [Guying the latter with a smile. 5i8 THE CITY George. Well, suppose you go to my room, Hannock, and use the desk there. Hannock. [In a hard voice, reluctant to leave them.] Very good. [Rises J takes papers, and starts to go. VoRHEES. \With the tone of a final good-by.] Good morning, Hannock. Hannock. Good morning, sir. [Stops at the door.] If I wanted to speak with you later on to-day, after I've had a talk with Mr. Rand, could I call you up on the 'phone, and make an appointment ? VoRHEES. Certainly. Hannock. [In a satisfied voice.] Thank you. [Goes out. George. Well? VoRHEES. How do you /ee/.? Eager, eh? George. That depends on what I'm going to I THE CITY 519 get ! I'm eager, all right, if you've come to tell me what I want to hear ! ! VoRHEES. You're warm, as the children say! George. What wouldn't I give — that was honest to give — for this chance, not just to talk, not to hoastj not to promise, only — VoRHEES. [Interrupting him.] Exactly! That's exactly what we want — the man behind the gun in front of the gun I We don't want a Fourth of July orator only, in the Capitol ! We want a man who'll be doing something, George ! George. [Enthusiastically.] Every minute ! ! VoRHEES. We can hire a human phonograph to do the talking. The party's full of them ! George. I want to make my name mean, in this whole country, what father's meant in that small, up-State town we came from ! ! VoRHEES. Your name can take care of itself. 520 THE CITY Don't think of any glory you're going to get ! You'll get most by keeping busy for the good of the State, for the welfare of the people — George. [Eagerly, not waiting for Vorhees to finish.] I know ! But I'm going to show the gods and the demigods, the rabble and the riff- raff, that one good lesson we've learned from the success of the last administration is that the real leader of a party must be its independent choice, and not its tool. Vorhees. [Approving.] Right ! George. Machine politics are a hack number. The public has got on to the engine, and smashed the works ! Vorhees. Man is greater than a machine, because God's soul is in him. George. Yes, and what I'm going to show is that the soul of a political party is the uncom- promising honesty of its leader. THE CITY 521 VoRHEES. Don't always be emphasizing the leader ; — let it go at the party^s honesty ! You're inclined, George, to over-emphasize the personal side of it ! It's E Pluribus Unum, not E Pluribus mc-um ! George. All right, all right ! Only, don't forget that I've got an inordinate ambition, and you're dangling in front of my eyes the talisman that may land me, God knows how high! VoRHEES. Well, come back to earth! Now^, I've come here with the nomination in one hand — [George draws a long, excited breath. George. And a string in the other? VoRHEES. Yes. George. Well, give it to us ! VoRHEES. The Committee decided it was up to me ! I've known you as a boy. You're going to marry my sister. We're brothers practically. 522 THE CITY I can speak frankly, without giving any offence — that's sure, isn't it? George. Nothing surer ! VoRHEES. It's just this ! Of course the min- ute you're nominated, our political opponents will get busy ! The muckrakes are all ready ! George. You bet they are, and the search- lights haven't any Foolish Virgins in charge of them. They're trimmed, all right, and filled with gasoline ! VoRHEES. [Very seriously.] You can stand it, George ? George. I can. VoRHEES. You've got a wonderful popularity, and the Committee believes in you, but it wants your word confirming its confidences, — that's all. George. That's the least it can ask. VoRHEES. Is there anything in your life that THE CITY 523 isn't absolutely above board, George ? No skele- ton in your heart, or your cupboard? It's safe for us to put you up ? You're sure not a particle of the mud they'll rake can stick? George. Not a particle. VoRHEES. Look back a little. Sometimes I think you're a little too cocksure of yourself. No man can be, absolutely, till he's been tried in the furnace, and you haven't been, yet. But we're getting the fires ready ! [Smiles.] You're all right at heart, I'm sure of it. Nobody in this world believes more in you than I do, — [again smiling] except, perhaps, you yourself. But there's nothing, nothing that could be ferreted out? You know they'll dig, and dig, and dig!! George. But I give you my word of honor, so help me God, I've never done a dishonest or dishonorable act, or an act — 524 THE CITY VoRHEES. [Interrupting.] In business? George. [Hesitates just one moment.] You know what my father stood for, — and my busi- ness methods he taught me. I've gone ahead of him, of course, — gone on with the times, — but on the road father blazed for me ! I've not deviated from a single principle. VoRHEES. Good ! I know what George Rand, Sr., stood for in Middleburg ! That's good enough for me. And in your private life? Oh, this is just going through the form ; personally, I'd stake my life on your answer, and Eleanor's instinct would have kept her from loving you. George. I was brought up in a small town, in the old-fashioned family life that's almost ancient history in the bigger cities. I loved my father and my mother, and their affection meant every- thing to me. From their influence, I went THE CITY 525 under Eleanor's. You needn't have one worry about my private life. VoRHEES. Of course I knew you were clean and above board, but different men have differ- ent ideas about some things. George. Listen, — I'm no little tin god ! I'm as full of faults as the next man, but I'm not afraid to own up my mistakes ; I'm not afraid to tell the truth to my own disadvantage ; I'm not afraid to stand or fall by my sincere convic- tion ! In a word, I'm game to be put to any test you or the party want to put me, and I'll stand straight as I know how, so long as there's a drop or a breath of life left in me ! VoRHEES. Then that's all ! And unofficially — unofficially — I can tell you, barring the unexpected accident, the nomination is yours ! [Holding out his handy he grips George's in his. 526 THE CITY George. IsnH it great ? IV s wonderful ! Oh, God, if / can only do it big ! VoRHEES. You mean do it well ! George. [Taken aback only for a second.] Er — yes, of course — same thing ! — Do half I dream of and want to ! VoRHEES. [Smiling.] Well — I'm taking any bets ! ! George. I owe the whole business to you, you know, and / know it ! Vorhees. Nonsense ! With that overwhelm- ing ambition of yours ! Perhaps I taught you your primer of politics, your grammar of public life ; that's all — except that I'm a damned proud teacher ! ! ! [Enter Foot. Foot. Mr. Van Vranken must see you at once, sir, — says it's very urgent. THE CITY 527 George. All right. VoRHEES. Say in two or three minutes. Foot. Yes, sir. {Goes out. VoRHEES. There is just one more thing be- fore I can go. George. What? VoRHEES. Nothing that really concerns you, though it may cause you some inconvenience. The Committee thinks you'd better get rid of your secretary. George. [Astounded.] Hannock? VoRHEES. Yes, — he's no good ! George. No good? VoRHEES. A damn rotten specimen. We've found out enough about him to make sure we don't want him mixed up with us in any way in the election. 528 THE CITY George. You — you take me off my feet ! VoRHEES. If you want more detailed informa- tion, ask any detective with tenderloin experi- ence. George. I've never liked him. I can't say I've really trusted him. And yet I laid my prejudice to a personal source. VoRHEES. He's dishonest besides. You can't have him in a confidential position. You couldn't help getting tarred with some of his pitch ! George. But are you sure of what you say? VoRHEES. Sure ! Why, just now, here, he showed me the hoof of a blackmailer. George. [Looks up quickly.] At that again ! VoRHEES. How do you mean ''again"? George. Explain to me what you mean. VoRHEES. Oh, he didn't get far — we were interrupted ! He put out a feeler, which was THE CITY 529 very like a demand, as to what he was going to get out of this election. George. [Carelessly, and not very loudly.] He needn't think Vm father ! VoRHEES. [Not understanding.] What's that? George. You leave Hannock to me. I'll take care of him ! VoRHEES. You'll ^wc^arge him? [A pause. George. No, — I can't. VoRHEES. [Astonished.] How do you mean, — ''can't." George. I couldn't turn him out, if he insists on staying. VoRHEES. Why not ? George. [A short second's pause.] That I cannot tell you — Vorhees. Look here, George! What hold has this man got on you? 530 THE CITY George. On me personally, none. But I owe him a certain duty, and in a way he could do harm to — VoRHEES. I thought you said you had no skeleton ? George. It isn't in my closet, but it concerns those that are nearest and dearest to me. VoRHEES. Then you must risk sacrificing them, if you want the position. George. I'd have to sacrifice a memory, too, — and I haven't the right ! VoRHEES. If I went to the Committee, and said to them, — Rand refuses to dismiss Hannock ; doesn't deny he may be a scoundrel; owns up, in fact, that his family is in some way in the man's power ; says he himself is not ; but still he doesn't dismiss him, — do you believe for a minute the Committee will go on with your nomination? THE CITY 531 George. No ! For God's sake don't tell the Committee anything of the sort ! Perhaps I can handle Hannock — beg him off ! VoRHEES. I don't like the sound of that. There's one thing about you I'm afraid of, George. You're one of those men who think wrong means are justified by right ends ; — unsafe and dis- honest policy ! George. I tell you he can't hurt mCj George Rand — [after a second] ''Jr." VoRHEES. That don't do for the Committee. You can't handle mud and not — George. [Interrupting.] Very well, then if I can't buy him off, I will dismiss him ! And the others must face the music ! There's too much at stake for the future, to over-consider the past. Vorhees. All right ! 532 THE CITY [Enter Van Vranken, excited and angry; perhaps he's had a little too much to drink. Van Vranken. Look here ! George. Good morning, Don. VoRHEES. Good morning. George. I'm very busy now. Van Vranken. [With a jeer.] I won't inter- rupt you long ! VoRHEES. Would you like me to hunt up Eleanor and Cicely, and come back later? Van Vranken. Oh, you might as well stop. You're as good as in the family, now. You'll be sure to be asked to put your oar in ! George. Sit down, Don, and cool off ! Van Vranken. I haven't time. I'm on the way to my lawyer ! I understand my wife's here. Has she talked with you? George. No. I've been busy with Vorhees. THE CITY 533 Van Vranken. I know — the governorship ! Well, your sister'll put a spoke in that wheel, if you don't side with me ! George. What do you mean ? Van Vranken. She threatens to take my children from me by bringing a suit for divorce, — mentioning Nellie Jud — Mrs. Judly. George. Well, can you blame her? Van Vranken. It's a pity you haven't gone out, once in a while, into the society that bores you so, and kept your ears open. George. What for? Van Vranken. You'd have heard a whisper, or caught a look that would have kept you from being surprised at what I'm going to tell you. George. What? Van Vranken. If your sister starts a suit against me, bringing in Nellie's — Mrs. Judly's 534 THE CITY — name, I'll bring a counter suit against her, naming Jim Cairns ! George. You drunken liar ! [Going Jar him. Vorhees holds George hack. Van Vranken. You didn't know I could win. I wouldn't put such a stumbling block in the way of my little daughter's happiness ! George. Liar ! ! [Struggles to free himself. Vorhees. No, George ! Even Pve heard . enough to wonder something of it hasn't come your way. Van Vranken. [Thickly, whiningly.] All I ask for is a noiseless, dignified separation, — that's all I want, and God, I want that bad ! Legal or not, as she wishes, — only she's got to agree to cut out Cairns. I give her this chance THE CITY 535 for my little daughter's sake, — not for hers ! But in another day, maybe, it'll be too late. I get my children six months of the year, and she the other six. I ask no more than I give, — that's fair ! I'd like my complete freedom as well as she. So far as love goes, it's a pretty even thing between us ! And when the children are grown up, and settled in life, she can do what she damn pleases, and good luck to her ! VoRHEES. I've heard the gossip. Van Vranken, but you know enough of our world to realize half that gets about, gets about wrong. George. Granted Tess has been foolish. That's bad enough, God knows ! Still — I can't believe worse than that ! / grew up with her, — / know her ! Van Vranken. You knew her before she came to New York. She hadn't developed yet, 536 THE CITY in that mudholo^ you all lived in ! There's no smoke without — George. Yes, there is ! There's a smolder- ing that never breaks into a flame ! And you know, Don, you've given every reason for Tess's heart to smolder, yes, and burn, too — though I don't believe it. While we're about it, let's finish the whole ugly business here, now. You're a drunkard, and your best friends are the most depraved crew in town, — a crowd that is used individually as markers to tally off each smart scandal that crops up. It never occurred to you, before you married Tess, that you would be faith- ful to her afterwards ; and you didn't disappoint yourself. Van Vranken. What right had she to be disappointed? I never made any bluff or pose, and you all fought the match ! She married me with her eyes open. THE CITY 537 George. You had the glamour of the City about you. Tess was a real woman, full of good and bad ; she was ready to be what the man she loved would make of her. And, poor girl, she married you I VoRHEES. Well, all that's done. What about the present? Van Vranken is right in saying any divorce scandal would endanger your elec- tion. We might lose the entire Catholic vote, and the support of the anti-divorce party, — both of which we're banking on. And besides, one of the strongest planks of our platform is the Sanctity of the Home ! We're putting you up as the representative of the great section of the country which stands for the Purity of Family Life. We'd have to drop that platform, or be ridiculed off the face of the earth. And it doesn't seem right in any way to me ! And it's not up to you to suffer for your sister. [To Van 538 THE CITY Vranken.] If we persuade Mrs. Van Vranken to a dignified separation such as you want — Van Vranken. And she gives her promise to call off Cairns — ! George. [Quickly.] Tess will be as anxious to stop gossip, when she hears its extent, as you. I'll take that on my shoulders. [Van Vranken looks at him, and half smiles cynically at his confidence. VoRHEES. Very well ! Will you, Van Vran- ken, be willing to hush the whole business up ? Van Vranken. Glad to ! VoRHEES. Live on with Mrs. Van Vranken in your house as if nothing had happened? Van Vranken. No ! Not by a damned sight ! VoRHEES. Come, don't be a yellow dog I Do all or nothing. Van Vranken. She left my house of her own THE CITY 539 accord, and I've sworn she shall never put her foot in it again. VoRHEES. Oh, well, what's an oath more or less to you ! It will be only till after the elec- tion ! Rand's nomination is practically settled on — Van Vranken. Oh, I see ! Why didn't you say that at first? I've nothing personal against Rand. VoRHEES. I'm sure Mrs. Van Vranken, on her side, will do all she can to protect his interests. Van Vranken. I suppose I'll have to give in — VoRHEES. Good ! George. I'll see her now, if she's in the house. VoRHEES. [To Van Vranken.] I will com- municate something to you, after Rand has seen your wife. 540 THE CITY Van Vranken. Very good. She took both the children when she left this morning. One child must go back with me now. VoRHEES. Both must go hack, to-day, and Mrs. Van Vranken, herself, — to live under your roof till after the election. Van Vranken. That's true ! Of course ! All right ! God, it'll be a hell of a life ! How- ever, there'll be an end of it to look forward to ! Good-by. VoRHEES and George. Good-by. [Enter Teresa and Mrs. Rand. Mrs. Rand is very altered. Her hair is dressed fashion- ably, etc., and, instead of the sweet, motherly woman she was, in Act I, she is now a rather overdressed, nervous-looking woman, ultra- smart, hut no longer comfortahle-looking and happy. THE CITY ' 541 Teresa. [As she enters.] George ! Mrs. Rand. George ! [They both stop short, as they see Van Vranken. He hows to Teresa ; she only glares at him. Van Vranken. [To Mrs. Rand.] Good morn- ing. Mrs. Rand. [Looking at him, — outraged and angry.] You wicked man ! [Van Vranken is somewhat taken aback ; from her, he turns and looks at the two men; he raises his eyebrows, smiles, shrugs his shoul- ders, and slouches out indiferently. VoRHEES. I must go, too. Teresa. Good morning, Bert. VoRHEES. Good morning, Tess. How do you do, Mrs. Rand. Mrs. Rand. I don't know where I am, Bert. I never felt the need of Mr. Rand more than to-day ! 542 THE CITY George. Bert, will you have to tell the Com- mittee about this? Won't it queer my nomi- nation ? VoRHEES. Not if Tess will do what we expect. I'll leave you to explain to her. [Moving to go. George. No, — stay, Bert ! Mrs. Rand. George ! Tess couldn't possibly tell you everything she wants to, before Bert. Teresa. Oh, don't worry, mother. I guess Don hasn't left much for me to tell ! Besides, Bert's a lawyer. I'd like his advice. [To George.] Don gave you his version, didn't he? George. Listen ! My whole future is at stake, and it's in your hands ! Teresa. Nonsense ! My hands are full of my own troubles. THE CITY 543 Mrs. Rand. [To nobody in particular, and nobody pays any attention to her.] What a tragedy ! VoRHEES. George is right. His nomination for governor was decided on, this morning, provided he had an open chance. If you make a scandal now, he'll lose the nomination, sure, — and if not, what's worse, the election ! Teresa. You are trying to influence me against what I want to do, through George. I will never live with Don again ! George. Won't you? Only till after the election ? Teresa. No ! I intend to begin proceedings for a divorce to-day. George. But Don ofers you a legal separa- tion, and to share the children. Teresa. That's done purposely to keep me 544 THE CITY tied, so I couldn't marry again ! I want the chil- dren all the time, and I want my freedom ! George. But you know what he threatens to do? Teresa. He wonH dare ! VoRHEES. That's not his reputation in New York. Mrs. Rand. [At random.] If she only wouldn't decide at once — all of a sudden. That's where women always slip up ! Teresa. Did he pretend he wanted me to come back? George. [Smiling in spite of himself.] No, but w^e persuaded him to be willing. VoRHEES. For George's sake, till after the election, on one condition — Teresa. [Quickly.] What condition? VoRHEES. That you agree to the sort of sepa- ration he planned. THE CITY 545 George. And promise to put an end, once for all, to the Cairns gossip. Teresa. Just what I told you ! The whole thing with him is only a mean spirit of revenge ! He would sacrifice the children and me and every- thing else, to keep me from being happy with Jim. George. [Surprised at the apparent confession.] Do you mean you do love Cairns? Teresa. Yes. Mrs. Rand. [Breaking in.] No, she doesn't mean that ! She doesn't love him now, but she will, if she gets her divorce. George. [To Teresa.] What you really want to divorce Don for, then, is not because of Mrs. Judly, but so you can marry Cairns? Teresa. Exactly. VoRHEES. [Looking at his watch.] I must go. [To George.] The Committee will be waiting now for me. 546 THE CITY Mrs. Rand. [Mortified.] You've shocked Bert, Tess. VoRHEES. [Smiling.] Oh, no, I've a report to make before George's nomination can be official, and I don't see, now, just how I'm going to make that report exactly as I wish. George. You mean on account of Tess ! Teresa. I'll make any sacrifice I can for George, except my own personal happiness. That, I haven't the right to sacrifice, because that belongs half to some one else. George. You go on and call me up by telephone when you get there. I'll have had a longer talk wdth Tess, and I may have something different to say to you. Vorhees. All right. [Going to Teresa. Teresa. I shall want you for my lawyer, Bert. THE CITY 547 VoRHEES. Thanks. That isn't exactly in my Hne, but I hope you won't need a lawyer. Do what you can for George, won't you? Teresa. Of course. [Mrs. Rand goes out with Vorhees. Mrs. Rand. [As they go out.] Bert, you mustn't get a wrong impression from what Tess said, will you? She's her father's own daughter, and you know a Rand couldnH do a really wrong* thing; it's not in the blood. George. Now, look here, Tess ! On one side is a great career and me, and a dignified life for ■you, with independence and the happiness and the love and the respect of your children ; on the other is probable failure for me, and worse than failure for you. Don'U do what he says, and if he wins his suit, you'll lose ^o/// children and every- thing else you ought to care about — 548 THE CITY Teresa. Except Jim ! George. Would he make up for any thing? Teresa. Everything ! George. Even the children? Teresa. [Almost breaking down.] How can you say that? You know I wouldn't have to give up my children ! George. Ten chances to one you'd have to. Teresa. I don't beheve any judge would give Don the children in preference to me. George. Believe me, it'll be taking awful chances. Teresa. All life is that. [She turns aside, crying quietly. George. [Going over to her.] Tess ! But you don't realize what this nomination means to me — more than anything in the world ! I want it with every nerve and sinew in my body, THE CITY 549 with every thought in my brain, with every ambi- tion I've got ! Just let me get this one big thing in my hands, and nothing shall stop me ! I'll climb on up the ladder of achievement and fame, and I'll take you all up with me ! Remember our boy and girl days, Tess, in Middleburg. We were never selfish, you and I, with each other. It used to be a fight between us as to which should give up ! Don't gp back on me this time. You've got it in your power to give me a great boost, or push the whole scaffolding of my career from under my feet. For the love of God, stand by me to-day ! Teresa. It's your future against my future ! Why should you expect me to sacrifice mine for yours? We aren't children now, and this isn't Middleburg ! I love you very much, but not in that old-fashioned way. 550 THE CITY George. But has any one in this world the right to absolutely ignore everybody else, and think only of one's self? Teresa. It sounds to me exactly like what youWe doing ! George. I suppose I do sound like a selfish brute ; but I can't help feeling that what I ask of you, if six for me, is half a dozen for you, too, in the end. Teresa. If Don'll give me a full divorce, I'll do anything for you — live with the beast two years, if necessary, and not see Jim all that time. But don't ask me to give up Jim — [with emotion again] because I love him, and I won't, I couldn't ; if I said I would, I'd lie ! George. But Don won't give you what you want, and if you insist, he'll do what he says — ■ divorce you, with a filthy scandal ! THE CITY 551 Teresa. The hour after the divorce was granted, Jim Cairns and I would be mar- ried. George. Listen! Would you do this? De- ceive me now? Teresa. How ? George. Well — agree to what Don asks — Teresa. Never ! George. Wait ! After the election, you might change your mind. Whatever course you took then, wouldn't interfere with me. Teresa. Does that seem to you quite square? Isn't it a good deal like breaking your word? George. Has Don done much else beside break his since he answered "I will" with you to the Bishop in the chancel? Teresa. His word was cracked before I knew him ! But I wasn't thinking of Don and me. 552 THE CITY Aren't you playing a trick on the party that is putting its trust in you ? George. I don't see it ! If your divorce comes out after my election, it needn't affect the party. My acts will be speaking for them- selves, then. I intend to be square in office, and to succeed or fail by that standard. I don't mind a failure, doing the right thing; what I can't stand is failure doing nothing with having had my chance ! Teresa. I see; a sort of the-end-justifying- the-means principle. George. Not exactly, because I don't see anything wrong. It's just election tactics ! The others'd do it; we must fight them with their weapons. Teresa. [Rather cunningly.] Will you tell Bert Vorhees? THE CITY 553 George. [After a second^ s pause.] No. Teresa. That's just what I mean ! It's something father wouldn't do. George. He wouldn't! Why, father's whole business success was due to his not letting his left hand know what his right hand was after, but to square things in the end by a good divi- sion ! — one third to the left hand on the basis that the right hand had done all the work ! And you know what father's name stood for — the very criterion of business honor ! Teresa. Well, George, suppose I do it. I'm in no position to criticise, any way. I'll go back till you're elected, and pretend I'm going to carry out Don's plan. George. Thank you, Tess. [But the enthusiasm is gone. Teresa. Only, somehow it doesn't coincide 554 THE CITY with my idea of what I thought you were being and striving for. Maybe you're on your way up the ladder, but you, at the same time, are coming down from the pedestal I'd put you on, to join me at the bottom of mine. [There is a moment's pause, both looking straight ahead, not liking to look into each other's eyes. Enter Hannock. Hannock. Excuse me, Mr. Rand. Mr. Vor- hees is on the 'phone. Teresa. [Quickly, to George.] I'll tell him. Then you won't have to lie, if he asks any difficult questions. George. I wouldn't lie; I'd just beg any- thing I don't want to answer — and tell Eleanor to be sure and let me see her before she goes. Teresa. [Very serious.] I wonder if. she^d approve of this little plot of ours? I wish it didn't seem contemptible to me! THE CITY 555 George. [Hurt and showing a hint of shame for the first time] For God's sake, Tess, don't sug- gest such a thing ! Eleanor is the one thing in the world I wouldn't give up to get this election. [Teresa looks at him meaningly as she goes out. George. What did you mean by looking for personal graft out of this election just now, with Mr. Vorhees. Hannock. I was showing my hand, that's all. I was calling the pot ! It's time ! George. You don't know the men you're dealing with ! Hannock. [Looking George squarely and meaningly in the face.] I know one of them better than he knows himself! George. Listen, Hannock! That day my father died, I promised myself and his memory I'd look after you, and look after you well — not like a dependent on father's charity — 556 THE CITY Hannock. [Interrupts.] Damned unwilling charity — he was afraid — George. We won't go into the story of your mother — [Hannock wi/zce^.] I've tried to treat you as I would a — brother who was unlucky — somebody I was glad to give a hand to — Hannock. [Interrupting.] Well, haven't I made good ? What complaints have you — George. [Going on.] You've been of the greatest service to me in every way. There's no question about that ! But it's time for us now to open a new pack, and each go his own way — ■ Hannock. [Thunderstruck.] What's that you say? George. I'm going to offer you a fixed yearly income, — a sum we'll agree on, — and you're to get a job elsewhere, that's all — THE CITY 557 Hannock. [Dry and ugly.] Is it ! George. What do you say? Hannock. Oh, I've got a hell of a lot to say ! George. Cut it down to yes or no, and we'll discuss the amount of the income ! Hannock. No I ! ! You haven't got to give half of what I expect to get out of the present situation ! George. [Angry, hut controlled.] If you don't look out, you'll get nothing, Hannock. [Sneers.] Pah ! Just wait till I begin to open your eyes for you ! For instance, how about the New Brunswick deal? George. What about it ? [On the defensive. Hannock. As crooked as anything that's ever been in "high finance"! \With a sneer. George. What do you mean? You knew 558 THE CITY that deal from the very beginning — you knew every step I took in it? Hannock. Yes, / did ! I notice you kept the transaction pretty quiet from everybody else. George. It was nobody else's business. My father taught me that — Hannock. [Not listening out.] Yes ! — and he taught you a lot of other things, too ! But you go farther than he would have dared. George. That's enough ! Hannock. What's the difference between your deal, and the Troy business that sent Pealy to State's Prison? George. Every difference ! Hannock. [Triumphantly.] Is there? Think a minute ! [.4 second^s pause.] You gambled with your partner's money : Pealy gambled with his bank's. THE CITY 559 George. It wasn't my partner^ s money; it was i\iQ firm's. Hannock. But you were the only one who knew what was being done with it. George. My partner got his fair share, didn't he? Hannock. Yes, but you got the unfair! You got paid pretty high for your ^'influence.'' Nobody else had any chance to sell theirs ! If that isn't taking money under false pretences, if it isn't using funds you haven't the right to use, — there was a miscarriage of justice in the Pealy case, that's all. George. But — ! Hannock. Go over the two deals with Vor- hees, if you don't believe me I Show him the differences between the Brunswick Transaction and the Pealy case, — if he can see any ! [Enter Eleanor, breezily, enthusiastically. 56o THE CITY Eleanor. Good morning ! [She sees Han- nock; her manner changes to a cold one.] Good morning, Mr. Hannock. Hannock. Good morning, Miss Vorhees. Excuse me ! [He passes Miss Vorhees, and goes out; as he goes, with his back to them, he is seen taking out from his pocket his hypodermic needle, and a small bottle, — and, by then, he is out. Eleanor and George silently follow him with their eyes. Eleanor. [Turning.] What is it about him? George. [Kisses her.] You don't Hke him either ? Eleanor. I detest him ! What Cicely can see in him I — George. [Quietly.] Cicely? Eleanor. Yes, I've come to-day as a go- between — between you and Cicely — THE CITY S6i George. Ha ! Cicely's clever enough to know how to get what she wants from me. She has only to use you — Eleanor. She's in love with your secretary. George, [Not taking it in.] What? Eleanor. Cicely and Mr. Hannock are in love with each other — George. [Aghast.] Impossible — Eleanor. I know; I felt the same as you do. I detest him ; he's no match for Cicely — I feel instinctively the last man in the world for her. George. Even not that — Eleanor. But Cicely insists. They wish to marry. George. Never ! Eleanor. She guessed you would be against it. She says we none of us like Hannock, and 562 THE CITY nobo.dy's fair to him ; and so she begged me to persuade you. She asked me to remember how much I loved you, and what our marriage meant to us. You see, I couldn't refuse ! But I'm afraid I'm not a very good go-between; my heart isn't in it ! George. [Hardly hearing Eleanor.] It's be- yond believing ! [He touches the hell with deci- sion.] I must talk to Cicely now, before she sees Hannock again. Eleanor. Wouldn't it be better without me ? She might resent your refusing and giving your reasons before me. [Enter Foot. George. Ask Miss Cicely to come here at once, please. Foot. Yes, sir. [He goes out. THE CITY 563 George. Perhaps it would be better. Eleanor. George, it doesn't make any dif- ference to you that Hannock has no family or position ? Cicely thinks you're prejudiced against him because his mother was a milliner or dress- maker — or something — George. Of course that makes no difference to me — Eleanor. And you wouldn't be influenced against a man by your personal feeling, where your sister's happiness was concerned, would you? [He shakes his head] If you don't know anything against Hannock, you'll let him have a chance to prove himself worthy of Cicely, won't you? George. Eleanor, it can't be! Don't ask me any questions, but believe me, nothing could make such a thing possible, — personal preju- 564 THE CITY dice and any other kind aside ! I want you to help me pull Cicely through it. I may even ask you to take Cicely into your house for a while. Would you do this for me? Teresa and Don, you know, would be no comfort, and, on the other hand, would set her a bad example, and fan every little rebellious flame in her ! Eleanor. Of course, I'll do whatever I pos- sibly can, dear. This is the very sort of thing I want to share with you, if I can't take it entirely off your shoulders. [Enter Cicely. Cicely. [Half defiant, half timid and hopeful.] Well? Eleanor. [Going. To Cicely, speaking ten- derly.] I won't go home yet. I'll wait for you upstairs. Cicely. Humph ! Thank you ; I know what that means ! [Eleanor goes out. THE CITY 565 George. My dear girl, it isn't possible that you care for Hannock? Cicely. [Determined.] Yes, very much ! George. Well, even that may be, but still not in the way you think. Cicely. / love him! Oh, I knew you'd be against it ! Nobody cares for him in this house ! George. [Quickly.] And that's why you do ! You're sorry for him, my dear girl ! It's pity, not love I Cicely. [Increasing her resentment and deter- mination.] Nothing of the sort ! He doesn't need my pity in any way. George. It's just as I would feel toward a girl who seemed to me to be ignored. Cicely. Abused ! As good as insulted here, by everybody ! 566 TEE CITY George. You think so, and your sympathy is aroused, — but that's not love. Cicely. You don't know what you're talking about ! George. Yes, I do, — better than you. You've never been in love in your life, and so you mistake something, that is probably like a sisterly affection for this man, for the other thing. Cicely. Ridiculous ! George. You don't know the difference now — Cicely. Nonsense ! George. But you'll realize it some day when the right man comes along — Cicely. [Satirically.] I hope not ! It would be awkward, as I shall he married to Fred Hannock. George. No, you'll never be married to Hannock ! THE CITY 567 Cicely. YouWe not my father ! George. But I represent him, and I tell you you must give up this idea — Cicely. [Interrupting angrily.] And I tell you I won't ! Good-by ! [Starting to go. George. Wait a minute. [Rings hell.] You can't marry this man. He isn't good enough for you ! Cicely. Humph ! George. Or for any self-respecting woman to marry, as far as that goes. Cicely. Your opinion as to whom I shall marry, or not, means absolutely nothing to me. George. Very well, I'll go even farther. I'll tell you that, even if both my reasons for disapproving of Hannock were done away with, — still, I say for you to marry him is impossible, 568 THE CITY and I, as your elder brother, representing your father J forbid it. - [Enter Foot. Foot. Yes, sir? George. Ask Mr. Hannock to come here. Foot. Yes, sir. [Goes out. George. I shall tell him, before you, anything between him and you is absolutely impossible, — that I forbid it, and that he is dismissed from my service. Cicely. Then I will go with him, if he wants me to. Do you think I'm going to have him lose his position and everything through me, and not stick to him? George. [With tension.] Sorry for him! That's all it is ! Sorry for him I Cicely. Ifs not — and you can forbid now till doomsday. I'm my own mistress, and I shall do as I darn please I I shall marry the man THE CITY 569 I want to, in spite of you — and the whole family, if necessary, — but I wanted to give you the chance to stand by me — [Her voice falters, and she turns away; she cries.] I felt "you wouldnH, but I wanted you to, and that's why — I've come here now — and let you — humili- ate me — in this — way. I wanted my own brother to sympathize with me, to help me. Everybody will follow your lead ! George. [Goes to her, and puts his arms about her.] Cis ! I can't tell you how sorry I am ! Not since father died have I felt as I do now. I've nothing to gain or lose except your affec- tion, dear girl, and your happiness, so you can believe me when I say this marriage canH be — [She pushes his arm away and faces him. Cicely. [Literal and absolutely unconvinced or frightened.] Why not? 570 THE CITY George, I canH tell you. Cicely. Well, you know me well enough to realize such reasoning with me is a waste of breath. George. [Sufering.] I want to spare you — Cicely. What ? It doesn't seem to me you're sparing me much ! George. But listen — Vorhees just now told me — Hannock isn't on the level, — he isn't honest ! Cicely. I won't take Bert Vorhees' word for that ! Fred's been your right-hand man here for four years and over. Have you ever found him doing a single dishonest thing? I'm sure you haven't, or you w^ouldn't have kept him. I don't know why you did anyway ! It was perfectly evident you didn't like him ! [Hannock enters. THE CITY 571 George. [Quickly, before he is fully in the room, and going to the door.] Hannock, please excuse me. Will you wait one minute in the hall? Hannock, [In the doorway. 'He looks qiies- tioningly at Cicely. She nods her head.] Cer- tainly. [He goes out. George. [Intensely, with his hand on the knob, holding the door closed behind him.] Listen to me, for God's sake ! You're my sister, I'm your brother. Have I ever showed that I did any- thing but love you? Cicely. No, that's why I hoped — George. [Interrupting, almost beside himself.] But it canH be I ! Won't you trust me, — wonH you? Let me tell Hannock, without going any deeper into it, that — you realize the marriage 572 THE CITY can't be ; that you and he mustn't meet again ! You can say what kind things you — Cicely. [Flashing.] Never ! ! You ought to know me better than to propose any such thing ! [She moves toward the door. George. [With a movement to stop her.] For your own sake, for his sake, for mother^s, for everybody's — trust me and — Cicely. [Looking him directly in the face after a second's silence, speaks with the note of finality.] Listen ! I married Fred Hannock this morning ! [George looks at her, his eyes dilating. There is a pause. George. [In horror.] What ! ! Cicely. I married Fred Hannock half an hour ago. We walked home from the church, separately. He went to his work, and I sent for Eleanor. THE CITY 573 George. [In a voice of terrible but suppressed rage, goes to the door, throws it open with violence, and calls loudly ;] Come in ! [Hannock enters quietly, expecting a fight or a scene; he is on the defensive and not in any way frightened. George. [Controlling himself by a big efort.] Is this true, what my sister says, that behind my back you've been making love to her — Cicely. [Interrupting hi?n.] 1 7tever said that ! George. That you've repaid all that I've done for you, and all my father did, by taking advantage of our kindness and your position here to run off with — Cicely. [Interrupting.] I was as anxious to run off as he — George. But why wasn't I told? Why do it secretly? [To Hannock.] Why didn't you go 574 THE CITY about it in the square, open way, unless you knew you were doing wrong ? Hannock. I knew you'd fight it for all you were worth, and I wasn't going to run any risk of losing her ! Cicely. But you wouldn't have ! My brother would have wasted his words then, as much as he is now — Hannock. I was afraid — any fool in my place could see how I've really stood in this family. The only friend I had in the house, or who ever came to it, was she! [With a wave of his hand toward Cicely. George. And that's why! Can't you see it? Don't you know the difference between pity and love ? Cicely. / love him and he knows it; — donH you, Fred? THE CITY SIS Hannock. Yes, / do know it! As well as I know your brother only kept me here because — • [turning to George] you were afraid of me ! George. Afraid of you ? Hannock. Yes ! Do you suppose I didn't guess your father must have told you I was on to him in the bank ! George. Leave the dead alone ! You've got your hands full with the living! Hannock. Well, I know my business well enough to realize that once Cicely and I were married, you'd have to make the best of it ! George. Never ! I tell you this marriage is no marriage ! [Cicely and Hannock exclaim in derision. Cicely. What's the use of talking any more about it ? We aren't getting anywhere ! It's done — and George has got to make the best of it ! 576 THE CITY George. I tell you it can't be ! Will you take my word, Hannock ? Hannock. No ! [Laughs loudly. George. Then, I must go ahead without you ! You're dismissed. Do you hear? You're dis- charged from my employ ! Hannock. [Getting very angry, but controlled.] You take care! George. [Continues determinedly.] You'll leave this house to-day. I'll give you an hour to pack up and get out, and you'll never lay your eyes on this girl again. Cicely. If he goes now, I'll go with him. I'm his wife ! George. You won't go with him ! Hannock. Who'll prevent her ? George. I will I THE CITY 577 Hannock. [In a Maze] Try it ! ! Cicely. I've just promised to love, honor and obey him — and if he says to come, I'll go ! George. [Slowly hut strongly.] He wonH say it. Hannock. I do say it! Come on. Cicely! But if you want to come back, you can, because, before I'm through with your brother, I'll get him down on to his knees, begging me to come back, and I won't come without you I George. [Going to the door and holding it open.] Cicely, will you wait in here with Eleanor for a few minutes? Hannock. Oh, we can speak out before her ! I want my wife to know the truth about every- thing ! I don't intend to be the goat in this family any longer ! George. Well, you can tell Cicely, afterward, 578 THE CITY what I'm going to tell you, if you like. God keep me from ever having to tell her ! [After a look straight at Hannock, he looks at Cicely very seriously. She responds to his look, impressed by it, and turns her eyes to Hannock. Neither quite understands, but each feels the depth of seriousness in George's attitude. Hannock. [Doggedly to Cicely.] Go on. Cicely. [To Hannock.] I'll wait there for you. Don't do anything without me. I'm so sorry my brother takes this attitude ! Don't think it can influence me, any more than the disgraceful way you've always been treated here has ; nothing they say can change me toward you, Fred ! [She leaves them. George. I didn't want to have to tell you this. I'd rather almost die than have to tell THE CITY 579 Cicely ! I must break faith with father, but of course he'd be the first to ask me to. I must dig out a skeleton that is rotting in its closet — that's the trouble ! I must do this, and a lot more, if you make me, and give you a couple of blows which will come pretty near to knock- ing you out, if you've anything at all of a man in you. And every bit of it can be spared every- body, if you'll go away and let Cicely — divorce you. Hannock. Well, I wonH 1 George. Because you w^on't give up Cicely? Hannock. Exactly. I love her better than anything, — money, comfort, happiness, every- thing you can think of, — so go on, fire your last gun, and let's get through with it ! My wife — George. \With excitement.] She isnH \o\xv wife ! — [Hannock looks at him and sneers. 58o THE CITY George's rage at Hannock is only governed by the tragedy of the whole thing.] Your marriage wasnH any marriage! Hannock. [A little frightened, and very angry now.] What do you mean ? — George. [Looks towards the door where Cicely has gone, and, with difficulty, manages to control his voice, as he lowers it.] Cicely is your sister I Hannock. [With a cry.] Cicely is what? George. Your sister I Hannock. [Sees ''red," and goes nearly mad.] You're a God damn liar ! George. It's the truth — Hannock. [Out of his mind, with an insane laugh.] You're a liar ! [Cicely, alarmed, opens the door to come in. Hannock shouts at her angrily, in an ugly voice :] You go back ! — and shut the door ! Do you hear I Get out of this room I THE CITY 581 George. [Strong, hut more kind.] Wait in the room till I call you. Hannock. [Brokenly — ugly.] I don't want her hanging round here now ! This is none of her business, none o' hers ! George. [Speaks toward the doorivay.] Elea- nor, I don't want Cicely to hear what we're saying. Eleanor. [Answering.] Very good. [She is seen shutting the door. Hannock. [Making guttural sounds, and un- able to pronounce the words clearly.] Hugh — hugh — hah ! — You'd play any game to get rid of me, wouldn't you? But you can't fool me like that ! ! [He sits in a chair, mumbling to himself inco- herently every other minute, working his hands, his mouth and his chin wet with saliva. George. That day I saw you first, just before he died, my father told me. 582 THE CITY Hannock. I don't believe it ! George. He made me promise two things : — that I wouldn't tell you — never ! — and that I would look out for you. Hannock. I don't believe it! George. That's why your mother got her allowance, — and to buy her silence — Hannock. I don't believe it! [Laughing and weeping. George. Now, you see why you must leave here to-day — leave New York ! Why there was no marriage this morning and never can be ! Why — Hannock. [His mind deranged, rises unevenly; he is loud, partly incoherent, and his face is twitch- ing and distorted, his hands clutching and clench- ing, his whole body wracked and trembling, but still strong, with a nervous madman's strength.] It's all a lie — to separate Cicely from me ! THE CITY 583 George. [Goes to him and sees the change.] Hannock ! Hannock. I'll never believe it ! George. [Taking him by the shoulder.] Have you gone out of your mind ! Hannock. I'll never give her up ! George. What!! I tell you, she's your sister! Hannock. And I say / donH believe it! I love her, she loves me. I won't give her up ! ! George. Yes, you will ! ! Hannock. / won't! Do you think I'd give her up to some other fellow to hold in his arms ! For some other man to love and take care of!! You're crazy ! ! She said if I said come, she'd go with me, and I'll say it ! ! [He starts toward the door. George takes hold of him to stop him from calling her. George. Wait! If you don't give her up S84 THE CITY now, after what I've told you, and leave here before she comes out of that room, I'll have to do the only thing left, — tell her ! Hannock. [Furious.] No, you won't ! You sha'n't tell her! It isn't true! And if it was, by God, she sha'n't know it ! It would separate us ! George. [Horrified at what this means, calls sternly and with determination ;] Cicely ! Hannock. \\Vildly.] DonH you dare to tell her that lie ! Eleanor. [Opening the door.] You want Cicely to come in? George. Yes. [Eleanor turns away from the door, leaving it open behind her. Cicely appears, and enters, — leaving the door open. Hannock. There isn't any lie too big for him THE CITY 585 to make up to separate us ! I'm going ! Will you come with me? Cicely. Of course ! George. Cicely! Are you strong? Are you brave? You must hear something unbelievably terrible ! Hannock. [Holding out his hand beggingly.] Come along, don't listen to him ! [She makes a movement toward Hannock. George. You can't ! [Taking hold of her. Cicely. I will ! Leave go of me ! [Struggling desperately. George. [Puts his arms about her, and holds her in his arms — her back to him.] My poor child, he's your — [Hannock, without warning, pulls out a pistol from his hip pocket, and shoots her dead in George's arms. 586 THE CITY Eleanor. [Calls, in fright.] George ! ! George. Cicely ! [He holds her in his arms, and carries her over to sofa. Calls brokenly : ] Cicely ! [Eleanor enters quickly, and goes to them. Eleanor. [In horror as she sees.] Oh ! George. Take her. [Eleanor takes Cicely tenderly from him. Hannock. Now, you nor nobody else can separate us ! [Lifts the pistol to his heart to shoot, feeling for the place he showed in Act I. George springs forward and gets hold of him and the pistol before he can shoot. George. No ! Thafs too good for you I That's too easy ! By God, you've got to pay. [Enter Foot in excitement. Foot. Excuse me, sir, I heard — THE CITY 587 George. All right. Telephone for the police. Is she breathing, Eleanor ? [Eleanor shakes her head.] Oh, God ! [Bowing his head, emotion surges up in him. Hannock, in this moment of weakness, almost frees himself and almost gets hold of the pistol. Eleanor. \Who is watching, cries out in alarm.] George ! George, be careful ! [George pulls himself together too quickly for him, and prevents Hannock. Foot starts to go. To Foot.-] Help me ; it won't take you a moment ! George. No ! Foot, I know I can trust you. [Giving him the pistol.] Keep this, yourself, and don't let him get out of the room. Foot. Yes, sir. [Takes the pistol, and stands before Hannock. George goes to Cicely, and takes her in his arms. 588 THE CITY George. Poor little woman ! little sister ! Why did this have to be 1 I wonder if this is what they call the sins of the fathers? [He carries her out of the room, Left, followed by Eleanor. Hannock, the moment they are gone, makes a movement. Foot at once covers him with the pistol. Hannock. Give me that pistol ! Foot. No, sir. Hannock. Name your own price I Foot. Miss Cicely's life back, sir ! Hannock. You''re against me too, are you ! Every one's against me ! [George comes hack. George. [Taking the pistol from Foot.] Thank you. Now, telephone, and ask them to be quick, please. Foot. Shall I come back, sir? THE CITY 589 George. No, I think this job had better be mine. [Looking hard at Hannock. Hannock. [Quickly.] I won't try to get away, — I give you my word of honor. George. Your word of honor ! [To Foot.] When you've telephoned, go to Miss Vorhees. Foot. Yes, sir. George. Ask her to keep my mother and Mrs. Van Vranken from coming here. Foot. Yes, sir. [Goes out. Hannock. [Makes a move for George.] Give me that gun ! [There is a short struggle. George breaks from Hannock, and, crossing to the table, lays the pistol on it. Hannock makes a tricky attempt to get to it quickly, but is caught by George, who holds him. The following scene takes place 590 THE CITY with George keeping hold of Hannock, who some- times struggles and sometimes tries to break, sud- denly or craftily, away from George's grip, and at other times remains quiescent.] You're a damn fool ! Don't you see it's the easiest way all around for us? I've got to die anyway. George. But not that way. That's too easy for you ! Hannock. Well, it's easier for you, too, with me out of the way ! There's no arrest, no trial, no scandal ! Nobody'll know I was her brother ; nobody'U know about your father ! Think what it'll save your mother ! Think what it'll save you ! Think what it'll save everybody ! George. Including you, — and you don't de- serve to be saved anything! Hannock. Still, even / am your own blood ! For God's sake, go on, let me ! All you have THE CITY 591 to do is to turn your back a minute — it won't take two I Please ! Think of her — what it'll save her memory ! George. No ! Hannock. Then for your mother's sake ! How can she go through a trial and all that means ! George. Your work in the next room is worse than any trial for her to bear. Hannock. Think of yourself, of the election ! What will my trial do to your election? George. I'm not thinking of my election now, — I'm thinking of that little, still figure • lying in the next room ! Hannock. [Emotionally, almost crying.] There'd have been two, if you hadn't stopped me ! For the love of God, give me the gun — George. No ! You^ve got to sit in the chair ! Hannock. \With an ugly change.] Well, you'll 592 THE CITY get your punishment, too, — don't you forget that ! ! I know how eaten up with ambition you are ! And every single wish nearest to your heart will die just as dead as I do, if you let me go to trial! George. What do you think you're doing? Hannock. If I have to pay my price, I'll make you pay yours. And you'll be dead, pubhcly and politically, before I go into the condemned cell. George. You're crazy, and that's the only thing that may save you, if Matteawan is salva- tion ! Hannock. I knew your father was dishonest, and I told him that day; I guess it killed him. And I've watched you, and tempted you, and helped you go on with his methods ! Every bit of this will come out in my trial. I'll get a clever enough lawyer to manage that I And you'll lose, THE CITY 593 not only your ambition, but your position in the world, and one more thing besides, — the woman youWe in love with! For that kind of a high- browed moral crank wouldn't stand for one half you stand for in business, and when she finds out how deceived she's been in you, if I know human nature, she won't have that much love left for you — [Snapping his fingers.] And she'll find out J and they'll all know ! — your party and the other party ! That election '11 be a hell of a walk- over for the other side! [Eleanor enters. George. What is it, Eleanor? I don't want you here. Hannock. [Half aside, with a half jeer, and a half smile.] Hah ! Eleanor. Excuse me. Bert wants you on the telephone. Shall I answer? . 594 THE CITY George. Yes, please. [Hannock begins to steal behind, toward the pistol.] Does mother know? Eleanor. Yes, and she's very plucky. But I'm surprised how full she is of the desire for revenge ! [George turns and sees Hannock, and quickly but quietly intercepts him, and stands with his hand on the pistol.] She wants Hannock punished ! She's watching for the police ! George. They ought to be here soon, now. Eleanor. Teresa is with me. She feels it terribly. [Goes out. Hannock. Do you realize how completely you'll be done for, if you don't let me do it? The New Brunswick business isn't a patch on some of your other deals I know about ! George. I've never done a thing in business that couldn't stand the strictest overhauling. THE CITY 595 Hannock. If you believe that, you're a bigger ■fool than I thought ! Vd rather be a crook than 3i.fool, any day I Quick, before she comes from the telephone ! Turn your back ; walk to the door there ! It's easily explained ; — you're not to blame ! George. No ! Hannock. [Hysterically] If you don't, I'll explain now, before her, where and how your standard in business is rotten, and your dealings crooked, — and you can begin to take your medicine ! George. I dare you ! [Eleanor comes back. Eleanor. Bert wants me to tell you it's settled, — your nomination — and he adds, ''good luck!'' George. Did you tell him about — ? 596 THE CITY Eleanor. No — I — I told him to come here as soon as he could. George. All right. [Eleanor starts to go. Hannock. [Excitedly.] Wait a minute, Miss Vorhees ! George. No, Eleanor, go back, please ! Hannock. [Quickly.] This man, who thinks he has it on me, is afraid to have you hear the .truth about himself. That's why he don't want you to stay. George. [To Eleanor.] Stay ! Hannock. You think George Rand stands for honesty, and the square deal in the business world ! Well, he does, but ifs a lie I And if he wasn't paying up to the hilt — East, West, North and South — to protect himself, everybody in this country would know what we, on the inside, do ! THE CITY 597 Eleanor. George, unless you'd really rather I stayed, I don't want to hear what he has to say about you. Hannock. [Qidckly.] I don't blame you for not wanting to hear about the suicide of Henry Bodes ! [To George.] Do you know who killed Bodes ? You did I George. The man's out of his mind still, Eleanor. Hannock. Am I? Bodes was on to your Copper Pit scheme, and saw it succeed — so he tried one like it, and it failed ! George. Was that my fault? Hannock. Yes ! It was your example set him on, and do you think your scheme was legitimate ? George. So help me God, I do ! Hannock. Then why, when it failed, did Bodes kill himself ? He wasn't ^ro^e .^ It wasn't / 598 TEE CITY money that drove him to it ! It was shame, be- cause his scheme was crooked, just as yours was. Success covered it, but failure showed it up. Eleanor. Don't ask me to Hsten to this any longer! [She goes out. George watches her go, but Hannock only gives a quick glance after her. Hannock. Bodes was one of your sweet, weak family men, w^ho can't stand on disgrace ! George. Disgrace ! ! Hannock. Ask Vorhees, — and about the New Brunswick case ! And get him to tell you the truth I George. [Half to himself.] Good God ! If there is something in all this? Hannock. What are you paying Elmer Gaston ten thousand a year for? George. For his legal services ! THE CITY 599 Hannock. Rot ! The firm's never used him — George. But keeping him on our pay hst keeps him from working against us. Hannock. Hush money ! George. No ! Hannock. Why were all these Amsterdam tunnel bonds made over to Parker Jennings? George. He helped us get the bill passed ! Hannock. Ask Vorhees if he wouldn't put that down in the expense-book under the name of Blackmail. George. No ! Hannock. Ask Vorhees ! George. You can't alter the diplomacy of the business world — calling it by ugly names. Hannock. No, I can't, but Roosevelt did ! George. If you think I'm afraid of what you — 6oo THE CITY Hannock. Oh, come ! Stop bluffing ! If you don't realize I know what I'm talking about, I'll go on. I know at least jive separate deals of yours so damned crooked, if any one of them were made public you'd be out of business over night, and out of the country, if you know your job. [He waits. No answer. George is weigh- ing the truth or the lie oj what he is saying. He evidently sees some truth in it.] And I've got proof of what I say ! Every proof ! I've got copies of letters and telegrams, when I couldn't get the originals. I've got shorthand reports of private telephone conversations. I've got data enough for fifty trials, if it should come to that. I've been preparing for a deal of my own with you ever since I came to you ! Only — God ! [He, is moved as he thinks of Cicely.] I didn't think it would be trying to get rid of my life ! THE CITY 6oi I'd planned to make you finance a big game for me! George. If what you say is true — and I don't know but what some of it may be, — then it's good-by to everything for me, and it'll be about all I'm worth having come to me. Hannock. That's it! Even Middleburg'll be too small for you, if I show you up ! But you know what'U shut my lips tight ! Gimme the gun — George. [Quickly.] No. Hannock. [Pleadingly.] You've everything to get, and nothing to lose by it ! George. Yes, I have something to lose! — what rag of honor I've got left ! Hannock. No ! Think a minute — if Pm out of the way? There's no real scandal — your father's old story — our father's old story — 6o2 THE CITY isn't even known by your mother. I shot Cicely, and killed myself, — it's an ordinary story. I was drunk or crazy — she wouldn't have me. Any story you want to make up, and there'll not be a murmur against Cicely, then ! But can you see the papers if the real story comes out ! ! All over this country, and all the countries, it'll be tele- graphed and pictured and revelled in. It'll even get into the cinematograph shows in Europe — with some low down girl masquerading as Cicely. George. Stop ! Stop ! Hannock. And the story will come out, if I go to trial. I'll stop at nothing to take it out of you. Whether you believe or not what I say about your business methods, you take my word for it, my arrest will put a quietus on your elec- tion, and finish you, not only in a political career, but any old career at all ! THE CITY 603 George. What a finish ! What a finish of all I hoped to do and be ! Hannock. And — you'll lose the woman who's just left this room. Whether all her hrother^s high-browed talk is bunkum or not, even / know hers is serious ; and if she finds you've de- ceived her all the time, that your high ideals are fake — ! George. [Interrupts, crying, in an agony half to himself:] They're not ! They're not ! God knows, nobody's been more deceived in me than I've been myself ! Hannock. Well, you know she won't stand for it. A girl like — her heart couldn't stomach it ! Go on, bring me to trial and lose everything you've banked on for a career ! Lose your business standing, lose your best friends, lose the woman you want, and raise the rottenest 6o4 THE CITY scandal for your family, for your mother, to bear, and your little sister's memory to go foul under ! Do it all, and be damned to you ! ! [He falls on his knees with exhaustion. George. My God, how can I ? Hannock. [Whirling, pleading.] All you have to do, to save every mother's son of us, is to let me do what the law'll do anyway ! Leave that pistol where I can get it, and walk half a dozen steps away. That's all you need do ! [He sees George hesitate.] It's all or nothing for you ! ! It's the finish or the beginning ! Are you ready and willing to be down and out, and go through the hell my living'll mean for you ? [He sees George weaken more.] You'll be Governor ! Sure, you'll marry Miss Vorhees ! You'll find all the proofs I told you about in my safety deposit box at the Manhattan. And there'll be only white THE CITY 60s flowers and pity on the new little grave ! It'll be your chance to prove by the future that you were made of the right stuff at heart, after all! [George puts down the pistol not jar from Hannock's reach, and starts to walk away with a set face — suffering. Hannock makes a slow, silent step towards the pistol, but, before he can get it, George turns and recovers it, with a terrific revulsion of feeling. He seizes the pistol and throws it through the big glass window. George. No! I haven't the right! You must take your punishment as it comes, and I must take mine ! [He suddenly breaks down; tears fill his throat and pour from his eyes. Hannock is crouching and drivelling on the floor.] This is my only chance to show I can be on the level! That 6o6 THE CITY I can he straight, when it's plain what is the right thing to do ! God help me do it ! [The door opens and a Policeman enters ivith Foot, as THE CURTAIN FALLS ACT III Scene: Same room as Act II, only seen from another point of view. The mantel is now Right and the windows Back. Left is the wall not seen before. Later the same day. Vorhees and George are seated at the desk before a mass of business papers. There is a tall whiskey-and- soda glass, nearly empty, and a plate with the remnants of some sandwiches, beside George. The shades of the windows are drawn, but it is still daylight. George looks crushed, mentally and physically, but is calm and immovable. Vorhees looks stern and disappointed. There is a pause; neither men move. George. That's all ? [Vorhees nods his head. 607 6o8 THE CITY George drinks, and gathers up the papers.] What's to be done with these papers? Are they Han- nock's or mine? VoRHEES. They have only to do with your affairs. Hannock hadn't any right to them ! In any case, you don't pretend to deny anything these papers prove. Destroy them ! George. But — [Getting up all the papers, except some oj his own, which he separates and leaves on the desk. Vorhees. I doubt if, when it comes to the point, Hannock will go into all this business! He will have had months to cool down, and his hands will be full enough. [He gives George a couple of papers he has had in his hand, and mo- tions to the fireplace.] Here! don't wash your dirty linen ; burn it ! [George goes to the fireplace with a mass oj papers, and hums them. THE CITY 609 George. [As the papers burn.] Has Eleanor gone home ? VoRHEES. Yes, but she promised your mother to come back later and stop over-night with her. George. I wonder if she'd be willing to see me ? VoRHEES. Yes, because I'm sure she didn't believe Hannock. George. Tess can stay with mother. There'll be no need of her pretending to go back to Don, now. VoRHEES. Pretending! George. Yes. That's something else I did, — persuaded Tess to make Don believe she'd come back in accordance with his conditions. But it was agreed between us she was to break her word to him, after the election! [He hums his last hatch of papers. VoRHEES. It's a pity you can't burn that, too \ I'd have staked my reputation on your being 6io THE CITY absolutely on the level ! How I have been taken in by you ! George. I know, it sounds ridiculous, and I don't expect you to understand it ; but I've been taken in by myself, too ! Shall I write my withdrawal from the nomination, or will you take a verbal message? VoRHEES. Write it. It will make less for me to say by way of explanation. [George goes to the desk and writes.] I'm sorry, I'm sorry, George. I know what it means to you ! George. Somehow now, it doesn't seem so much, after all ; I suppose that's Cicely — poor little girl — poor little girl, — and — Eleanor. [He adds the last, almost in a whisper. VoRHEES. You're a young man, George ! You've got a good chance yet to make good, and it's all up to you! THE CITY 6ii George. I know that — VoRHEES. I suppose you won't want to go back to Middleburg? George. No ! No ! ! For everybody's sake ! But, would it have been wrong — leave me out of it, — to have saved father's memory, to have saved mother — could I have let him do it ? VoRHEES. You know you couldn't ! George. Yes, and anyway, I didn't. Why can't I forget it ! VoRHEES. Oh, it'll be many a day before you deserve to forget it ! George. But, will you ever have any confi- dence in me? Can any one ever believe in me again ? [Buries his face in his hands, and groans. VoRHEES. / can. Whether I do or not, is entirely up to you. 6i2 THE CITY George. You're sure of that? VoRHEES. [Takes his hand and shakes it.\ Sure. George. And Eleanor? VoRHEES. Well — there's no use in my lying about it. If I know her, you must give up all idea of marrying her. Eleanor's husband must be a man she can look up to. That's a necessity of her nature — she can't help it. But I do believe she'll help you with her friendship. If you don't go back to Middleburg, where will you go? George. Here! I stay right here! VoRHEES. [Surprised.] Here ! It'll be hard. George. I suppose it will ! VoRHEES. How will you start? George. First, make a clean breast to my partners ! Give back all the money I've made THE CITY 613 in ways which you've proved to me are illegal. Publish every form of graft I've benefited by, for the sake of future protection ! Resign from all — VoRHEES. It's gigantic! It's colossal! Can you do it? George. [Simply.] I can try. I'm going to have a go at it, anyway ! Vorhees. The Press ! Among your profes- sional associates — here and all over the State — it'll be hell for you to go through ! George. I know it ! I know it ! But to get back where I want to be — if I ever can ! I've got to fight it out right here, and make good here, or not at all. I don't care what it costs me ! Teresa. [Opening the door.] May I come in? George. Yes, come in, Tess. Where's mother ? Teresa. She's locked herself in her room! 6i4 THE CITY She's turned against me in the most extraordinary manner ! Says my influence over Cicely is at the bottom of everything ! [She begins to cry.] She goes so far as to say, if I'd behaved Uke a decent woman, she doesn't beheve this would have happened ! I didn't care what other peo- ple believe of me, but this I didn't bargain for ! I have been unfaithful to Don in my heart — and in my mind, perhaps, — but that's all — George. I always felt it, Tess ! Teresa. Can't you persuade mother? George. Bert could, because he represents the outside world. Teresa. But you know Bert. He v/ouldn't persuade her, unless he believed in me himself. Vorhees. That's true, and I'll go talk with her now, if Mrs. Rand will see me. [He goes toward door. THE CITY 615 Teresa. [Deeply moved, mid grateful.] Thank you! VoRHEES. That's all right. [He goes out, Teresa. George, I don't know — but every- thing, even Jimmy Cairns, seems so little now, in comparison with Cicely — dead, — the bottom fallen out of everything ! George. Even worse than that, for me. I've given up the nomination. Teresa. I'm sorry ! Did Bert feel you had to ? George. No more than I did. You won't have to act a lie for me after all, Tess. Teresa. I'm glad ! I know, if Eleanor Vor- hees knew I was doing it — George. She's going to know it, — and that I'm a liar! She's going to know much worse things than that! Everybody's going to know 6i6 THE CITY them, I guess ! Father was a crook in business, — that's the ugly, unvarnished fact, — and I've been a worse one ! But I'd rather she'd learn these things from me, — what Hannock hasn't already told her — rather than she learned them outside. Teresa. But George ! George ! ! Don't you realize you'll lose her? George. Well, I've lost everything else, ex- cept — Teresa. Except what? George. Except that! After all, I don't believe, way down at the bottom, I'm not fun- damentally straight ! I mean to give myself, all by myself, a chance to prove it ! I know there are lots of ''good men" who are born crooks. I want to see if I'm not a crook who was born good ! [Vorhees reenters. THE CITY 617 VoRHEES. It's all right. They've told Mrs. Rand she can go in and see Cicely now, and she wants you to go with her. Teresa. [Holds his hand in her two, for a moment.] Thank you ! [She goes out. Vorhees. And give me that paper you wrote. The sooner we get that off our hands, the better. [George takes up the paper and, reading it over to himself J goes slowly to Vorhees, and gives it to him. Vorhees. Too bad, old man, too bad ! But it canH be helped. George. I know! [Vorhees starts to go.] Bert, — Eleanor hasn't come yet ? Vorhees. No. Are you sure you want to see her, or shall I first — George. No, leave it to me ! I'd rather. I don't want a loophole, anywhere, for her think- 6i8 THE CITY ing me a coward. I want to make a clean breast of it all ! That's what I'm after, — a clean breast, no matter what the doing it costs me ! VoRHEES. You're right. [About to go. Enter Foot. Foot. A gentleman for a newspaper, sir. George. Will you see him, Bert? VoRHEES. Yes. [To Foot.] You refer all the reporters to me. You know my address? Foot. Yes, sir. VoRHEES. [To Foot.] Say no one here can be seen. [To George.] I'll see you early to- morrow. George. Thank you. I'd like your help in laying out a plan of action. Of course I shan't do anything till after — [He hesitates, and raises his head and eyes to upstairs. THE CITY 619 VoRHEES. I wouldn't. [Goes out. Foot exits. George stands alone in the room, a picture of utter dejection, of ruin and sorrow, hut with a bulldog look all the while, — the look of a man who is licked, beaten, but not dead yet. He stands immov- able almost — in complete silence. Slowly and softly, the door opens. Van Vr.inken looks in. He speaks in a sullen, hushed, and somewhat awed voice. He is pale ; all evidence of drinking and excitement are gone. Van Vranken. George? George. [In a monotonous voice.] Hello, Don — you know ? Van Vranken. I just heard. It's true? [George, with a set face and stern lips, nods his head firmly, still standing. Van Vranken col- lapses in a chair.] God ! Poor Cicely ! 620 THE CITY George. Tough, isn't it? \With a great sigh. Van Vranken. I was having an awful time, George, with Mrs. Judly. She was giving it to me good for being wilUng to patch it up, tempo- rarily, with Tess ! She diduH care about you ! I've come to the conclusion she don't care about anybody, anyway, but herself. Her brother telephoned it from his Club, and she — [his anger rises] had the rottenness to say she be- lieved there was something between Hannock and Cicely. That was more than I could stand for ! God knows I'm as bad as they make them, but, with that little girl dead like that — to think such a thing, let alone say it — I don't know ! — It took it out of me, somehow ! It didn't seem to me it was the time to have a low quarrel between two people like us ! It made THE CITY 621 US seem so beastly small ! Death's such an awful — such a big — I suppose I'll feel differently to-morrow — but to-day — now — George, I couldn't stand for it ! She kicked me out, and I give you my word of honor I'm glad she did ! George. [Not deeply impressed, but civil.] As you say, you'll feel differently to-morrow. Van Vranken. Very likely ! Still, I've got these few decent hours, anyway, to put on your sister's grave. [A pause. George sits. George. I've given up running for governor. Van Vranken. [Surprised.] Because — ? George. No. You'll hear all the reasons soon enough. The point for the moment is, you and Tess needn't fake any further — living together. Van Vranken. [Thoughtfully.] I see. [After a pause.] George — ? 62 2 THE CITY George. What ? Van Vranken. Could I see Cicely? George. [Hesitating.] Tess is there. Van Vranken. [After a moment.] Then, per- haps I'd better not go — ? George. I think I would, if I were you. [Van Vranken looks at George questioningly. Teresa enters. Teresa. [Quietly.] Don — [Her voice fills; she turns aside, and hastily wipes her eyes. Van Vranken. [Moved.] I was going up- stairs. Teresa. Not now ! Mother and I have just left. They've come to — [She stops, and again turns aside. Van Vranken. Where are the children? Teresa. Home ! THE CITY 623 Van Vranken. ''Home"? [Very meaningly. Teresa. At the house. Van Vranken. Oh, Tess ! — I'm — I'm not fit to take care of them ! You'd better take them both, Tess, but let me see them off and on — Teresa. I'm going back now with you, Don. Van Vranken. You needn't. I take it all back, Tess. You can have it your own way entirely. Leave Mrs. Judly out of it, — that's all I'll ask. Outside that, I'll fix it easy for you. Teresa. Thank you, Don, [after a second's pause] but, if you don't mind, I'd rather go back with you for the present, anyway. It seems to me, between us, we've pretty well spoiled every- thing except — well, — perhaps, in thinking of the children's happiness we might find something for ourselves ! What do you say ? 624 THE CITY Van Vranken. It's worth a try — so long as you're willing ! [Enter Mrs. Rand in a flurry. Mrs. Rand. Has any one thought to send for a dressmaker? [Nobody answers.] Did you think of it, Teresa? Teresa. No, I'm afraid I didn't. Mrs. Rand. [Her eyes filling.] I haven't the remotest idea what's the thing to wear! In Middleburg, I'd have known, — but here, I'm always wrong ! If I'd had my way, I'd never have taken off my crepe veil for your father, and now / wish I hadn't I [She sees Don.] Oh ! I didn't see you, Don. Have you come to beg Tess's pardon? Has this terrible thing reformed you? Van Vranken. I don't know, mother, how much reform is possible, but I came to tell Tess I'm ashamed — THE CITY 625 [He and Teresa exchange a look of almost sympathy, — at least, all antagonism has gone from them. Mrs. Rand. I confess, if I were Tess I could never forgive you ! Her father spoiled me for that sort of thing ! George. Tess isn't thinking now only of herself. Mrs. Rand. Oh, why did we ever come here ! That was the first and great mistake ! I haven't had a happy moment since I left their father's and my old home ! Teresa. Mother! Mother!! Mrs. Rand. It's the truth, — I haven't ! I've never been anything, in New York, but a fizzle ! I've been snubbed right and left by the people I wanted to know ! I'm lonesome for my church, and if I died I w^ouldn't have a hand- ful of people at my funeral ! 626 THE CITY George. But you're going to live, mother, and you'll see we'll make you happy yet ! Mrs. Rand. Not here! You can't do it yourself ! Bert says you have given up running for governor, and Tess says everything's off between you and Eleanor. I don't have to be told how disappointed and unhappy you are, and Tess's made a miserable mess of it ! And now, Cicely, the baby of you all ! — killed, like this ! [She breaks down into hysterical sob- bing.] It's more than I can bear ! I tell you, children, I can't bear it ! And it's all thanks to coming here ! ! This is what we get for not doing what your father wished. Why didn't we stay home? I amounted to something there. I had as much sense as my neighbors. I could hold my own ! Here, I've been made to under- stand I was such a nonentity — that I've grown THE CITY 627 actually to be the fool they believe me ! Oh, what the City has done for the whole of us ! Teresa. Yes, you're right, mother. I was happy too, till I came here. It was the City that taught me to make the worst of things, in- stead of the best of them. George. [Gently.] No, Tess — let's be honest with ourselves to-day. After all, it's our own fault — Van Vranken. I agree with Tess! She and I, in a small town, would have been happy al- ways ! I'd not have been tempted like I am here — I couldn't have had the chances — George. [Rising and speaking with the ful- ness of conviction.] No! You're all wrong! Don't blame the City. It's not her fault! It's our own! What the City does is to bring out what's strongest in us. If at heart we're 628 THE CITY good, the good in us will win ! If the bad is strongest, God help us ! Don't blame the City ! She gives the man his opportunity; it is up to him what he makes of it ! A man can live in a small town all his life, and deceive the w^hole place and himself into thinking he's got all the virtues, when at heart he's a hypocrite ! But the village gives him no chance to find it out, to prove it to his fellows — the small town is too easy ! But the City ! 1 1 A man goes to the gates of the City and knocks ! — New York or Chicago, Boston or San Francisco, no matter what city so long as it's big, and busy, and selfish, and self- centred. And she comes to her gates and takes him in, and she stands him in the middle of her market place — where Wall Street and Herald Square and Fifth Avenue and the Bowery, and Harlem, and Forty-second Street all meet, and there she strips him naked of all his disguises THE CITY 629 — and all his hypocrisies, — and she paints his ambition on her fences, and lights up her sky- scrapers with it ! — what he wants to be and what he thinks he is I — and then she says to him. Make good if you can, or to Hell with you ! And what is in him comes out to clothe his naked- ness, and to the City he can't lie ! / know, be- cause / tried 1 [A short pause. Foot enters. Foot. Miss Vorhees. George. Ask her to come in here. [Teresa rises quickly. Teresa. Don, I think — Van Vranken. I've a taxi outside. Mrs. Rand. All this time, and that clock going on every minute ! Teresa. [To Mrs. Rand.] Mother, if you want to see us after dinner, telephone. [Kisses her. 630 THE CITY Mrs. Rand. What about our clothes? Teresa. I'll attend to everything in the morning. [Teresa and Don go out together. Mrs. Rand. I think I'd rather be alone with you, George, to-night, if the things are off be- tween you and Eleanor. At a time like this, there is no excuse for her going back on you — George. Hush, mother! You don't under- stand. She has every excuse. I'll tell you about it afterward. Mrs. Rand. No, tell her for me not to stop. I wanted her, because I thought she loved you — and was to be one of us — that's all ! [Enter Eleanor.] Thank you for coming back, Elea- nor, but good night. George will explain. [She goes out. Eleanor. What is the matter with your THE CITY 631 mother? and Teresa? And Bert seemed strange, too, when I met him outside. What have I done? George. Nothing, Eleanor. Eleanor. [Realizing what it may mean.] They think I believed what Hannock said? That anything he would say against yoii could for one moment mean anything to 7ne! George. You didn't believe Hannock? Eleanor. Not for one second ! That's why I left the room. George. You'd better have stayed. Eleanor. Why? George. Because he told the truth ! Eleanor. How do you mean? George. Everything he told me here, this afternoon, was true. Eleanor. Not when / was here! When I 632 THE CITY was here, he was calling you a thief, and a cheat, and a liar ! George. He was right ! Eleanor. No ! I don't understand you ! George. Your brother understands — and I've withdrawn my name from the nomination ! I'm giving up all the things it seemed to me I wanted most, — and you, most of all, Eleanor ! I . thought I minded losing the others, but in com- parison with what I feel now ! ! ! You loved me because I was honest ! Eleanor. Not because, — but, of course, if you were not J^.onest — • George. Well, I'm not — I'm not ! Eleanor. You are l I know you are! George. No ! I've lied and tricked and cheated in business, and I've got to pay for it ! Eleanor. And all this you did deliberately? THE CITY 633 George. The only excuse I have, if you can call it an excuse, is that I didn't realize what I was doing! I did what others I had been taught to respect, to pattern on, did before me, — what others were doing around me ! I ac- cepted cheating for business diplomacy. I ex- plained lying as the commercial code ! I looked on stealing as legitimate borrowing! But I was a grown man, and in possession of my senses, and I had no real excuse ! Eleanor, I've been a business ^^ crook,'" in a big way, perhaps, but still a ''^ crook," and I'm not good enough for you I \A pause. Eleanor. What are you going to do ? . George. Give up all the positions I haven't any right to fill. Pay back interest I hadn't any right to get, and money I hadn't any right to use ! Give up principal I gained on somebody 634 THE CITY else's risk than my own ! Begin all over again at the bottom, but on the level, and climb, only if I can do it on the square ! Eleanor. I understand ! I understand it all, now ! You've done wrong ? George. Yes. Eleanor. Oh, so wrong, but you're owning all up, and giving all up ! George. Yes. Eleanor. You aren't being pressed to? George. Of course I could fight it, but what's the use ? IV s true ! Now I realize that, I can't own up fast enough! I can't begin over again soon enough ! I can't eat or sleep or take a long breath even, till I'm on the level again with myself. Even at the price of you! But I'll make you believe in me again, Eleanor, — you'll see, if we live long enough ! THE CITY 63s Eleanor. We don't have to live any longer for that. George. In what way ? Eleanor. The man who has done wrong, and can own it up, — face Hfe all over again empty- handed, emptying his own hands of his own accord, turn his back on everything he counted on and lived for, because it is the right thing to do, and because — leaving the world out of it — he had to he honest with himself I — that — George — is the man I look up to ten times more than the one who was born good and lived good because he never was tempted to enjoy the spoils of going wrong ! It's the man whom it costs something to be good, — that's what makes real character ! And to me — [she goes up to him, and puts her hand on his arm] you, here, to-day, are twice the man you were yesterday ! You 636 THE CITY needed a test, though we didn't know it ! And at the same time we found that out, you had to go through it; and thank God, your real self has triumphed ! To-day you are the man I loved yesterday ! George. [Looking away.] Now, I know what those people mean who say a man gets all the Hell that's coming to him in this world, — [look- ing at her] — and all the Heaven, too ! THE CURTAIN FALLS