SIBELLE; o i« , Up Among the Millions A SOCIETY DRAMA, msr FIYE ACTS. By W. HOLLAND. (Copyright 1MB by W. HOLLA XI). All Right* Reserved.* L'»NGMONT. COLO.: VALLEY HOME AND FARM PRINT. 1879. * ■ S1BELLE; O Up Among the Millions J± SOCIETY ORAMLjV, 1 1ST ZFZtTiE! ACTS. By W. HOLLAND. Copyright 1878, by W. HOLLAND. All Rights Reserved.) -, - c oPYR,'G*Jtf<£\ 37 $ ^M LONGMONT, COLO.: VALLEY HOME AND FARM PRINT. 1879. CAST OF CHARACTERS: 8IBE1.LE, a Millionaire Miss Libbie Tiffany CLAKENCE SUMMERFIELD. in loye withSibelle W. Holland EUGENE WATSON, alter Sibelle's money F. Salade EDA THORNTON, in love with Eugene, Miss Mary Boynton Mr. PARTINGTON, Detective, in disguise as a Swell W. Cole BOBBY BURT, Eugene Watson's confederate S. Williams Mr. HOWELL, Clergyman . • J. J. Burke ALICE JEWETT. Guest of Sibelle, Miss Ida Holland LULU MUNGER. " " Miss Evelyn Cole CECIL COLLINS, " " C.F.Kendall LEROY ALLEN, *' " A. L. Williams Old PHILIP, Servant (colored), C. W. Boynton JOHN, Footman M. Wilson COSTUMES. SIBELLE: Act L, Fashionably attired. Act II., first dress, velvet riding habit, blue or black ; second dress, fashionable attire for evening party, with summer shawl and but. Acts III., IV. .and V., fashionably attired EDA THORNTON: Act I., Fashionably attired. Act II. Evening party dress. Acts III., IV. and V.. dressed in fashion. Miss MUNGER: Act IL.'Evening party. Act III. Dressed in fashion. Miss JEWETT : Act II., Evening party. Act III., Dressed in fashion. Mess.hs. COLLINS and ALLf-N: Act II., Evening party. Act III., in fashion. Mr. PARTINGTON : Light pants and vest, light wig and light side whisk- ers, lavender kid gloves and c<»ne, eye gi asses and large button hole boquet. EUGENE WATSON : Act I , In fashion Act IT., Evening paity. All other acts in fashion. CLARENCE SUMMERFIELD: Act I., In fashion. Act II., Wretchedly clad. All other acts, in fashion, Mr. HOWELL: Black clothes, white cravat, black silk hat, gray hair and whiskers, cloak black. ISvBBY Bl.'RT: checkered pants, blue or green vest, black coat, striped shirt and collar, flashy neck tie, white sjlk hat. loud kid gloves, cane. dark mustache and heavy black eyebrows. Old PHILLIP: Klaek swallow-tail coat, white low cut vest, black pants. gray side whiskers and wig. JOHN: Brown or blue dress coat close fitting light pants, buff top boots. standing white collar, white neck-tie, white gloves, black siHs hat. LIST OF I^IRLOFERTIES. Act I.: Two letters and photograph for Clarence; Album, three boquets. box, supposed to contain fruit painting of an old man, for Philip: white and red rose, for Sibelle ; white and red rose, for Eugene and Clarence to wear in button hole; dnst brush. Act II.: Pislol. not loaded, for Clarence: bottle, supposed to contain drugged whiskey, f< r Eugene; dirk knife for Eugene; saddle horse for Sibelle; letter for Philip. Aa III : Chess and checkerboard, tray, wine and wine glasses containing wine ; dust brush: dirk knife tor Clarence; book of poems for sibelle. Act IV.: Letter for Clarence; pistol, not loaded, for Eugene. Act V.: Handkerchief for Sibelle; two pistols, loaded with blanK cartridges, for Clarence ami Eugene. STAGE DIRECTIONS. R. means Right of Stage, facing the Audience : L. Left ; C. Centre ; R. c. Right of Centre; L. C. Left of Centre; D. F. Door in the Flat, or running across the back of the Stage; C D. F. Centre Door in the Flat ; K. D. F. Right Door in the Flat : L. D. F. Left Door in the Flat ; R. D. Right Door; L. D. Left Door; 1 E. First Entrance: 2 E. Second Entrance : U. E. Upper Entrance ; I. 2 or 3 G. First Second or Third Groove. R. R. C. C. L. C L. tiSF' The reader is supposed to he unon the HtacA faXno. m uj audiem e TMP96-006568 ilBELLI ft5B2.A«03ST OK 1 I»LiAY : Summer. ACT I. TIME— Bay. .SCENE 1. An elegantly furnished drawing room ; satin damask and lace window curtains; two sqfettes, and chairs covered with satin, marble top table with large boquet of flowers, books, albwm,, etc.; large mirror (back centre), resting on marble slab; piano l.; fine blue or red exminster carpet, curtains and furniture to match ; gold tinted wall paper. Everything stylish. Door right of mirror in P.; window left of mirror in f., door r. 2 E., and door l. 2 e. Curtain rises. t}rder Philip, whistling, with Mr. Saunders picture and dust brush, D. F. Philip. Law sakes alive ! 1 never seed so much company as Miss Sibelle has ! heah de picture of old Massa Saunders, her husband. Sibelle is a mighty nice young lady to go and marry sich a dried up little ole man [shakes his head]. Pears might)'' strange how de ole man done leff dis world [hangs up picture]. Now if she'd done married Massa Eugene, or Massa Clarence, I wouldn't been so tickler boutde case; but to go and marry a little dried up ole man — humph ! pshaw ! Ole Phil knowed dar would come no good of sich doins. Ole Massa done treated Missis mighty bad, I tell you, so one bright sunshiny morning de ole man woke up dead — dis as dead as dis brush dat I holds in my hand. [Scratching his head.] I speck some one done draped pizen in his coffee. If dat is so, de pint is to find out who draped it Ole Phil dont know — dont know nuffin bout it ; but den it wouldn't do for 4 SIBELLE; OR, IT AMoNO Tlik: MILLION'S. all dem ignorant sassy niggers dat ole Massa used to have on tfe plantation t© know what ole Phil knows, kase dar mought be trouble. Ever time Miss Sibelie is gwine to have company, she say " Philip, de picture ;" I says, '"Yes, marm,'' and gees right straight add totes it to her room. Mighty hard to keep tings in order in dis room. I guess dat will do. [Exit, whistling l. d. j [Enter Sibelle, r. l>., and looking sadly, and sits at table, c] Sibelie. " Oh, what a sad, unhappy life I have led ! When but a small child, stolen from my dear father and mother, from a home of plenty, where peace and harmony, in happy concord reigned supreme. I never will forget my mother; her tender look; her mild blue eyes ; her gentle smile: her fond and devoted love! Oh, who but the orphan can know what it is to be deprived of home, of father, mother, sister, brother — to miss their affections -their love, ! What can compensate for loss of motner? who can fill a mother's place? no one — no one! My marriage proved unhappy; and, owing to my husband's mysterious death. I was tried for the murder,. I left for the south, thinking I would liye a retired life, but visitors will crowd themselves upon me, and the constant fear of having my secret disclosed, is dreadful. [Rings bell, enter d. in F.J Phil. Yes, marm. You dont know what Sarah tole me dis morning bout your har, she says you had such nice bar, and dat dem fowers you wears do so become you. [ tinks so too, Miss Sibelie — dey looks dis like de flowers you used to bring home from de plantation. I tole Sarah as she had not been heah long, to take my advice and not ax too many questions. [Sibelie is looking at Saunder's picture.] Miss Si- belle, what makes you look at de ole man so much ? Sibelie. Why, Philip ! How dare you be ao impertinent, and make use of such expressions? sir, leave the room! Phil. Yes, marm. [Exit d. f. j Sibelie. Philip is getting to be very rude. It will not do - 1 must check him of his familiarity, or he will be unmanag; able in a short time. [Rings bell, enter Philip.\ Sibelie. Philip, I'm going to my room to take a nap, 1 am not feeling very well this morning. If any one calls, tell them i cannot see them. | Exit L. d. | Phil. Yes. marm. Dat Sarah was comin' heah to dress Miss Sibelle's har; didn't have any more sense dan to come to de drawing room ; she'll larn something if she stay about heah. \ Enter Sibelie, l. n. | Tsn't you gwine to take a nap. Miss Sibelie ? Sibelie. No, I forgot. 1 have changed my mind ; i am ex- peetiag some one ; but, Philip, you must not he so inquisi- tive. Phil. You does'nt look well, Miss Sibelie. What's de matter, chile, you isn't gwine to he sick, is you ? ACT I. g Sibelle. I hope not — you can go, Philip; but stop— th^ picture. Phil. Yes marra. [Leaves with picture, and returns.] Miss Sibelle, de ladies has called for de rlowahs to take to de hos- pital. Sibelle. Oh ! yes [taking two boquets off piano], tell the ladies I am sorry that I can not make my usual calls on the patients for several days, that I am feeling rather indisposed, and that I wish I had something more substantial to send them. Phil. Yes, marm. [Leaving.] Sibelle. Oh ! I forgot. Here, Philip, is a box of fruit, that will be a little better. Phil. Yes, marm. [Ecit with fruit and flowers, d. in f. Enter Eda Thornton and Eugene Watson, D. in F., Eda carrying a boquet Sibelle. [Aside.]' What ! Eugene Watson with Eda Thorn- ton : Eda. Good morning, Sibelle. Eugene. Good morning. Sibelle. [Shaking hands.] Ah! how do you do, friends? I suppose you have had a pleasant walk, this morning? Eda. Yes, it is a beautiful morning, the sun shines so brightly; not.too warm, but pleasant; and the flowers in your garden do look beautiful. I think a morning ramble over your grounds, and the exhilarating air, quite beneficial. Eugene. Yes, I found Miss Eda, gathering and arranging a boquet. She was kind enough to decorate my lapel with this red rose. [Goes to piano, looks over music. Eda. How do you like my taste in the arrangement? Sibrlle. Oh, Eda, you have good taste in everything. Eda. I will make you a present of it for your compliments. Sibelle. Ah, thank you, Eda [takes flowers]. Now I will leave you for a few moment?, you will excuse me, I suppose — enjoy yourselves. [Exit r. d. Eugene. Do you play, Eda? Eda. Not much [going to piano]. Excuse me a moment, Eugene, I will be back soon. Eugene. Where are you going? Eda. Oh, I'll be back soon. Eugene. That is all right, but dont stay long. [Plays with red rose, and lays it on piano.] [Exit, 1 E. L., Eda. E tgene. Well, this Sibelle is a very nice young lady, some would call her beautiful. Although I can never love her, I must win her for her wealth. A nice rieh young lady is not to be picked up eyery day, and, as I have only a small salary, J cannot marry Eda, the only woman I ever loved. It will be hard to give her up ; but I must do it. Enter Eda, 1 e. l. Eda. Were you talking just now. Eugene? 6 sibelle; or. up among the millions. Eugene. [Starting with alarm.) No -yes — I was saying to myself — I mean I was thinking — I was anticipating the happiness in store for us, in the future. Eda. Yes, but why so confused ? Eugene. Such an acknowledgement would confuse most any one, especially when intruded upon by such a pretty face as yours. Eda hangs her head, Eugene's arm around her waist, as Sibelle appears at d. in f., but does not enter. Eda. [Disengages his arm.} Dont. Sibelle, you know. Eugene. Oh, yes, she may be in at an\ moment. [ They sit on Sofa. Enter Sibelle. Sibelle. I only walked out in the garden. Have you en- joyed yourselves ? Eda. Oh, yes, we always enjoy ourselves. Sibelle. [Looking meaningly at Eugene.] I should think two young people, like you, ought to enjoy each others company. Enter Clarence Summerfield, white rose on lapel of coat, D. F. Sibelle. Ah, Mr. Summerfield, how do vou do? Out for a walk ? Clarence. Yes, my physician's advice is exercise and fresh air. I find an improvement, I am happy to say, under that treatment. [Sibelle introduces Eda and Eugene ; they all bow. Eda. [A 11 seated, Clarence with Sibelle.] You have been confined to your room for some time, Mr. Summerfield. Do you think you will wholly recover? Clarence. I think so, in time. Sibelle. It is too bad you are lame, though I consider y©ur partial recovery miraculous. I think I should have died, had I beea in your condition; I think you must have an ex- traordinary amount of patience. Clarence. We all have patience when necessity compels it. What a nice boquet that is ! From your own garden, I sup- pose. Sibelle. Yes, Ecla and Mr. Watson — that is — Eda gathered it for me. Clarence. [Going to table c.J Very tastefully arranged, very, very nice ! [Looking at Album.] Sibelle. I dont suppose you will know any ol them. Clarence. I like to look at albums ; I always find them interesting. Isn't yours here ? Sibelle. No, I have none at present. Eugene. I believe I will take a walk. I will leave you and Sibelle to entertain Mr. Summerfield while I am gone. Exit D. F. Sibelle. Have you any photographs ? I would like t@ see some of your friends. Clarence. Not many. I have one or two with me, come to think about it. [Hands her ph ttographs, leaves letters on tdblr. Sibelle, [Taking photographs.] Thanks. Enter Philip, d. f. Phil. Heah is a letter, Miss Sibelle. [Hands it to her. [Exit, D. F. Clarence. While you read your letter. Miss Thornton and I will take a stroll, that is, providing she is willing. Eda. [Bowing.] Certainly. Sibelle. As you are lame, Mr. Summerfield, you must not try t<-» be too gallant. Clarence. I hope Miss Thornton will excuse any deficient on my part. Eda. Oh, of course. [Exit Clarence and Eda arm in arm, n. r. Sibelle. Goodness! this is not tor me ! [reads] Mr. Ed. Sa ■ yiile. This is a. mistake. [Leaves letter on piano. Looks at photographs at table c] This is a nice looking gentleman, I wonder who he is? Ah! a young lady — rather pretty. [Si- lently looks at the rest.] What is this? Great Heavens ! my mother's picture ! How came he by it? What mystery is this ? Ah, dear mother, it has been a long time since I saw thee last ! What can this mean ? [Goes to sofa, hands to head, thinking, returns to table, c] Ah, what letters are these? [read's] Clarence Summerfield ; [reads another] Will Hastings. What"! Will Hastings, my brother! what can this mean? Oh, I see, Clarence is my brother ; he has assumed the name of Summerfield. My own brother has proposed marriage! Oh, what will I tell liim? how can I answer him? I cannot tell him I am his sister! No, the secret he must not know. Oh! this is horrible! Will the mystery ever be solved? [Goes to piano, tabs up two roses.] Twu flowers that lovingly entwine in each others embrace, and kiss the dew from each others petals that nourish them into faultless beauty. That is what Eugene wrote to me once, in describing some flow- ers. [Holding up white.] White denotes purity [shakes her head]. That is not for me. [Takes red rose.] This is the one Eugene wore ; this is the one for me. [Clarence appears at door in f. during the last sentence. Enter Clarence, d. f. Clarence. [Arm around her.] Sibelle, you are not in very good spirits. Sibelle. Oh, Clarence, I feel so unhappy ! Clarence. Why so sad, what is the trouble? are you sick ? Sibelle. No, I can't say I am sick, although I*am not feeling very well. Clarence. I did not expect to find you in such a mood ; I think I have come in at the wrong time. 8 sibelle; or, up among the millions. Sibelle. Why so, Clarenee. Because, 1 have come to ask you if you have de- cided in the matter. Sibelle. Mr. Summertield, I can never he your wife. Clarence. What, Sibelle! you can never be my wife? why not? Sibelle. 1 cannot— I — Oh ! do not ask me ! Clarence. Oh, I think I can explain—this is the rose that Eugene wore, this is the one for me. Sibelle. No, no, no ! you do not understand. Clarence. I think I understand." Sibelle. You do not. Clarence. Sibelle, do you know why I wore that white rose? Because the first flower you ever gave me was a small white rose. Sibelle. I have often thought of that, Clarence. I thought the doner of that white rose would have me understand that she was pure — ns white denotes p Ur ity — I did think so, but I find I have been deceived. Is it true that you have no special regard for me? Sibelle, I had entertained a higher opinion of you than to believe you could so lower your noble nature, and participate in such a scurvy deception. I have always looked to you as a sample of unsullied virtue, having a soul with all the finer and no- bler qualities of true womanhood, that would not s-toop to betray a trust or stain her honor-. Sibelle. Ytht are highly regarded in my estimation, mi. re so, perhaps, than a mere friend would be, but I see I have done wrong to encourage you. Thus far I explain — no far- ther. I beseech you, leave me awhile until I collect my scattered thoughts. Clarence. One word : is it indeed true, you will not be my wife ? Sibelle. It is ; but I implore you use no reproaches, for beneaih the attesting eye of Heaven I vow I mean you no wrong; and I would blush to have tarnished that which is most sacred to woman — her honor. Clarence. Yet it is very plain you have deceived me ! Sibelle. Oh, no sir, circumstances brought about the de- ception. I was no willing partner in the act. Believe me, I am innocent; and I hope you will sometimes think of me kindly. You may yet be satisfied in the love of some true and. noble woman. Clarence. No, no — None but Sibelle can fill the place of the ideal woman my soul most cherished. No ill feelings lie silently buried in the deep recesses of my heart. I will always think kindly of you. I sincerely hope your future life may be peaceful and happy; that no adverse winds will blow a storm to ruffle the usual serenity of your gentle A(jr i. 9 spirit; that yon jnay continue in your benevolent purpose, anil may the blessings of ileav.en be bounteously tthowered upon you. Sibelle. i assure you your good wishes are reciprocated. I can only thank you for your kind generosity. Clarence. With this I quit you; Sibelle, farewell forever. Sibelle. Oh, Clarence, say not those words. You do not know what you say — you do not understand. Recall those wotd.-, Clarence, do not leave me forever ! Clarence. Then I will say, good bye, until I see you again. Sibelle, You will rail again? Clarence. Yes ; but to see you become another man's wife, I should go mad. Good bye. Sibelle. Good bye. [ Exit Clarence, p. f.] Oh! was there ever Woman in such trouble? I cannot tell him! What will I do? SCENE 2. Ordinary roo)>i in Id g. Eater Clarence, l. 1 e. Clarence, Oh. how long the past two weeks have been. Slowly the weary hours drag on. Never did I feel the need of a companion more than now. Never did the dark clouds hang more thickly around me. This loneliness is becoming unendurable! Oh, for some one to cheer me in my hours. > gloom and adversity. Enter Eda, l. 1 L. Eda. Ah, you are here, Clarence ! I was surprised when Sarah told me you wished to see me, you generally like to be alone. Clarence I sent for you because I feel that I need your presence. Oh, Eda, you dont know the influence of a re- fined lovely woman ! Place her among the flowers, foster her as a tender plant, and she is a thing of fancy — annoyed by a dew drop, fretted by the touch of a butterfly's wings, ready to faint at the rattle of a window pane. She is over- powered by the perfume of a rose bud. But let real calami- ty come, rouse her affections, enkindle the fires of her heart, and mark her then ! How strong is her heart! Place her in the seat of battle — give her a child, a bird or anything to protect, and see her, lilting her white arms as a shield, while praying for life to protect the helpless. Transplant her to the dark places of the earth, call forth her energies to action, and her presence becomes a. blessing. She disputes inch by inch, the strides of a stalking pestilence, when man, the strong and brave, pale, affrighted, shrinks away. Misfortune haunts her not. In prosperity, she is a bud full of odors ; in 10 SIBELLE ; OR, UP AMONG THE MILLIONS. short, woman is a miracle, a mystery from which radiates the charm of existence. Eda. You are very complimentary to the women. Clarence. Nevertheless 'tis true. Eda. I am weary of lead- ing this lonely life. I feel, greatly, the need of a companion for life, and I ask you openly and frankly will you be my wife ? Eda. Why Clarence— this is so sudden— I really— you must give me time to consider. Clarence. Consider? No. Now, Eda, now. Eda. Not even until to-night? Clarence. Not even until to-night. Now, before we part company, will it be yes, or no? Eda. Yes. Clarence. Then, [takes her hands,] hand in hand we will fight the battle of life, and o'er the rugged path strew flowers to make our burdens more lightsome. Enter Philip, r. lE.,exit Eda and Clarence l. 1 e., Clarence's arm around her. Phil. I declar if dar aint Miss Eda and Mistah Summer- field. Its de mixtus up afar I evah seed. First, its Eda and Eugene, den its Eugene and Sibelle, now its Eda and Clar- ence. I dosn't know which is which. Dar, [looking L.,] he's got his arm around her. [Scratches his head.] Dont 'peer to me like dey is 'hayin zackly right. [Bell rings.] Dar's de bell. [Exit l. 1 e. SCENE III. Same as Scene I. Sibelle seated at table, reading. Enter Philip, 1 e. l., backward. Phil. Go 'way from me, man, dont pester wid me, kase if you does, I'll spile your beauty — I'll bruise you. Sibelle. What is the trouble/Philip ? Phil. Nuffin, dat English groom tryin' to kick up a muss, and if he fools around ole Phil he,s gwine to get molested, sure as you are horn. Sibelle. Have you seen Miss Thornton within the last few hours? Phil. Done seed her dis minute, in de parlor wid Massa Summerfield. 'Pears like Massa talkin' mighty sweet, too. Had his arm around her neck. Sibelle. [With surprise.] Did he ? Phil. He did, for a fack. Sibelle. You can go, Philip. ACT 1. 11 Phil. [Bowing.] Yes, inarm. [Exit, 1 e. l. Enter Eda Thornton, d. f. Eda. Why, Sibelle, you are looking so sad. What is the matter, any bad news? Sibelle. No— not exactly -I am not feeling very well. Eda. Cheer up. I have some good news to tell you, that is, concerning myself. Sibelle. What is it, Eda ? you know I am always interested in your welfare, and would be happy to hear any good news concerning you. Eda. Well, Sibelle, I am going to be married in a few days. Sibelle. Ah! you were very sly about it. I suppose Mr. Watson is your choice. Eda. No, gracious, no! He is not rich, you know, and the man that I marry must have money. But Eugene is awful nice, I tell you he is sweet. Sibelle. Not Mr. Watson ! Eda. No, not Mr. Watson. Sibelle Eda, do you love this man you are engaged to ? Eda. No, I can't say I love him, but I will try and be happy with his money. Sibelle. Do you think he could be happy under those cir- cumstances ? Eda. I don't know as to that; but I can't help it, whether he will \)v or not; in fact, I dem't care whether he is happy or not, I'll look out for No. 1. Sibelle. May- 1 ask who the gentleman is? ,Eda. Yes; and you must not be sin prised when I say it is Mr. Summerfield, the young millionaire. Sibelle. What! my — my Clarence? Eda. Why, Sibelle, is he anything to you? Sibelle. Yes — no — I mean — no, he is nothing to me. Eda. Oh, I understand. I believe I will go to my room. [Exit Eda, l. d. Sibelle. I am glad Eugene is free from that woman ; but then my brother! She does not love him — oh! Clarence, I know you d> not love her. No, it must not be. I must save him fr.-m a miserable life. Oh ! could I explain — could I tell him I am his sister!. How shall I act in the matter? Enter Eugene, d. f. Eugene. Ah ! you are looking sad, Sibelle, cheer up ; it makes me feel bad to see you thus. Sibelle. I wish to be alone, if you please. Eugene. Well, good bye. I will see you again soon. [Exit 1 e. L. Enter Clarence, d. f. Sibelle. Oh, Clarence, I am so glad you have come, I wanted so much to see you. 12 sibelle; or, up among the millions. Clarence. [Earnestly.] Are you, Sibelle? Sibelle. Clarence, your future happiness is in danger, when coupled with that woman you are engaged 10. I beg of you, do not marry her. CUtrence. What material difference can it make to you who I marry ? Sibelle. I had not thought of that. Clarence. It is very evident that you still have some inter- est in me. ~ Sibelle. Believe me, Clarence, she does not love you. You will be so unhappy — I implore, as one greatly interested in you, do not marry her ! [Eugene appears at d. in f.) Prom- ise me you will not. Will you not promise, Clarence ? Clarence. I promise. [Sibelle's arm around his neck. Enter Eugene, d. in f. Eugene. What does this mean ? I do not understand it. Clarence. It means that I'll have satisfaction — satisfaction ! [ Curtain. , END OF ACT I. ACT II. TIME— Night. SCENE 1. Exterior front view of a beautiful dwelling, l., with veranda with heavy balustrade, and steps leading up, and bal- cony above. Imitation of green grass in front of house, heavy balustrade across stage, on stone foundation, with gateway in center. Two lamp posts, one on either side of gateway ; lamps lighted, woods, statuary and rustic seat, it., whIIc commencing at 1st E. R., running in a half circle and ending in R. u. e.; walk from gateway intersecting first walk. Flower pots and plants tastefully arranged; hills, cascade and river scene for a back- ground. Moon shines in sky. Curtain rises. Enter seven or eight couple of ladies and gentlemen by walk, R. u. E., ring door bell, and exit in liouse. Enter brass band, and play in front of house. Company enter from house, and sit or stand during the music. After music, exit band and company in house. Enter Sibelle on horse back, outside of fence, and stops at gateway. Enter John and hands her down. Sibelle. Have the guests arrived ? John. Yes, ma'm. Sibelle. I was detained longer than I expected. I am glad Eda was here to receive them. You can take Prince to the stable, and have the carriage r§ady in an hour. ACT II. IS John. Yes, raa'm. [Exit Sibelle in house. John with horse l. Eater Clarence, r. u. e., wretchedly clad; lotv music within. Clarence. Tis the festive night ! Music and revelry within! Ah, happy hearts, dance and be merry, for you know not how soon the hard hand of fate may bow you in grief. How cool the gentle breeze ! Yonder the cascade goes jumping o'er the adamantine rocks. Those antique hills clothed in their verdant robes ! All seem beautiful and happy. Oh, what a contrast to a miserable aching heart! Even the moon shines more brightly, as if to mock me in my misery — make me more wretched by the recollections this scene calls forth. It hasn't changed since I saw it last. How often have I strolled over these grounds with Sibelle! — right over there she gathered flowers that soothed my houffo of melancholly. But 'tis past — all past — those days are gone forever! How different now — no friends, no money — nothing! Nothing left but ray poor miserable self, to drag out the long weary hours in bitter reflection! In my sober senses all this comes back to me. Oh ! I must not think of it, 'twill drive me mad! 'twill drive me mad! Oh, could I sleep and silence grief; for on yester night I saw the moon go down at early morn; the thoughts of her did act like a feather tickling, that put to flight my quiet sleep ; so cunning did they play their tricks. Enter Old Philip, l., by walk, with letter. Phil. [Looks at letter and scratches his head.] I wonder who's dat done write to me ! Who would go and write to ole Phil, who hasn't got no larnin' nor edication eader. I speck its some no account niggah tryin' to show off dar larnin. He — he — he — done knows morn ole Phil if he can read dat. Dem letters looks like little nigs jumpin' over a rail fence — he — he! somebody mus think heap sight of de ole man. Yes, but who is gwine to read it for me? dar's a pint. [Looks around and sees Clarence.] My sakes ! dat man looks like he'd been drinkin' too much soda water. I'll dis ax him to read it. [Goes to Clarence and bows.] How de do, sah ? please read dis letter for me, sah ? Clarence. Yes, old man, I will read it for you. Phil. Thank you, sah — thank you sah. Clarence. [Takes letter and looks at it,] Well sir, it is signed, " Aunt JudyClemens." Phil. Well, now, hear dat — hear dat. Aunt Judy, dat used to work for Judge Rently. Whar she now ? Clarence. [Reading.] "Philadelphia, June 4th." Phil. Well, I declar ! Done gone t© Philadelphy — dis read de res' of dat letter, please sab. 14 SIBELLB ; OR, UP AMONG THE MILLIONS. Clarence. [Reading.] " Deah old Phil : I does feel so- en- tirely lonesome since 1 done leff'you, in de city which you now is at." Phil. Bless de dear lamb ! dis listen at dat — he — he -aunty always did think a heap sight of ule Phil. Dis please read dat »>ver again. Clarence. [Reading.] "Deah old Phil: I does feel so en- tirely lonesome since I done leff you, in de city which you now is at." Phil. [Loud laughter.] Ha, ha, ha! he, he, he! I declar it makes me feel good clar down to my boots. Clarence. [Reading.] " Wouldn't you like to see aunty, and 'brace her wid dem dear arms once mo'? " Phil. Did she say dat, for sure ? Law bless you honey ! I'd broke my two arms off. Clarence. [Reading.'] " I does'nt like Philadelphy, cause I cant see de white of dem dear eyes of yorn." Phil. Goodness to goodness ! Aint dat sugar on hoe cake ? yam — yam — iiraph ! Clarence. [Reading.] " Well, dear Phil, dis is all at pres- ent; I will wind up dis 'pistle by sayin, de roses am red, de violets am blue, sugar am sweet, and so am you. From your ole friend, Aunt Judy Clemens, 301 Cl,ay avenue." Phil. Bless de dear soul, I'll done write to her dis night. I is verv much 'bliged U> you, sah. What mout your name he? Clarence. It is — uh, never mind that — but, my friend, I would like to ask a favor of you. Phil. Yes, sah. Clarence. I want to see your mistress. Phil. [Starting with surprise.] Ok, sah ! I dont think she can see you. Clarence. Can't you arrange it with her to see me out here ? Phil. No, indeed ! you — you is't crazy is you? De house am lull of company, and Miss Sibelle dont see anybody but quality folks. Clarence. Ah ! I thought her very charitable. Phil. Oh, yes, she is, if you is beggin , she will see you. Clarence. Begging! [shakes his head.] No, I am no beggar. Grod forbid I should beg from her. Phil. I dont reckon you wants to tind de company, does you? Clarence. No. no. Do you think she would see me if I had news from Mr. Summerfield? Phil. Dat Massa Summerfield dat used to be 'bout here? Clarence. Yes; he sends her a message. Phil. I dunno, I'll tell her, she mout see you, will you be here ? Clarence. I will conceal myself until she is ready to see me. ACT II. 15 Phil. May he some time, but I V ink she will see you. Clarence. Teil me, who is her favorite now, among the gentlemen ? Does Mr. .Watson call, as usual? Phil. Oh. yes, sah ; he is here most of de time. Clarence. Do yon think she loves him? Phil. Dunno. sah; 'pears narighty like it. [Starts to leave. Clarence. Stay one moment, my good man ! Does she ever mention Mr. Summerfield's name? Phil. No, sah ; she dont mention no man's name 'cept Massa Eugene Watson's. Clarence That is all. [Exit Phil, l.] Then she loves him! Oh, how can I endure this? [Exit r. Enter Eugene Watson, from house. Eugene. Well, my scheme has worked admirably so far. In one short year, Clarence Summerfield has become a "' total wreck." With the aid of liquor, faro bank, cards, and my well laid plans, I have succeeded in reducing him to poverty. But I will not stop until th.3 grave closes over him; for should Sibeilc learn of his whereabouts, she might induce him to reform. He loves her and might frustrate my plans. She must be mine at all hazards. Enter Collins, r. Collins. Good evening, Mr. Watson ? Eugene. Ah ! good evening, Mr. Collins ? Collins. This is a delightful evening; the air is so bracing; something like the breeze on the beach— so refreshing— I tell you I enjoy the seashore, oh, it is fine — fine! Eugene, Yes, it is very pleasant ; I am rather partial to the seashore myself. City life becomes monotonous, especial- ly in the sultry "days of August, it is dreadful ! Nothing like a small select" party of jovial young people at a watering place. Not too large a party, but just a few ladies and gen- tlemen. Collins. By the way, which are you going to this season : Saratoga, Newport, Atlantic City, or Cape May? Eugene. I dont know. I thought of going to the White Mountains. I have some friends going there, and I think I would enjoy it better than at any other place. Collins, the last time I was at the mountains I met Miss Si belle and Mr. Summerfield. She looked lovely, handsome, beautiful ! I believe she was considered the belle of the sea- son. That was before she and Clarence had their little mis- understanding, von know. Eugene, Oh, ves, I know. Collins. I forgot. You know more about it than I. Too \ 16 si belle; or. up among the millions. bad to interfere with his love affairs, Eugene. Do you know that he fell into the habit of drinking, on account of it? Eugene. Why, no; did he? Collins. I should say he did. I saw him the other day, I could hardly believe my eyes. Eugene. Why so ? Collins. Well, sir, he was the most wretched looking being I ever saw. I dont suppose, if you look the city over, you could find a more pitiful sight. Eugene. Why, you surprise me ! Mr. Summerfield, the wealthy young man, being reduced in so short a time! Collins. Very singular, but true. It would not surprise me if" he weie in the poor house by this time. Eugene. Poor fellow ! Collins. Does Sibelle know it ? Eugene. I dont know ; if she does not, I think it better not to inform her. It might make her unhappy. You know she has a melancholly dispostiion. Collins. Yes, I know. I wonder what is the cause of this depression of spirit. Eugene. I think she must have some deep sorrow, that is working on her mind. Collins. Very likely ; well, I must gojn. Will you come ? Eugene. No ; I'll promenade a while yet. [Exit Collins in house. Enter Boby Burt, by walk, r. u. e. Boby. Well, pard, I've been looking for you. Eugene. And you are just the man I want to see. I have got a little job. I want worked up. Boby. Say, cull, do I stand in with it? Eugene. Yes, but we must talk fast, for you must not be seen here. Summerfield is lurking around here; we must get him out of the way. « • Boby. But I dont see any stamps m that. Eugene. Once, when he was drunk, he deposited fifty thousand dollars in a certain bank. Get him out of the way, and the money will be ours. Boby. You bet ail your red chips on me. I am the boy that can do that, and if I get copped I wont squeal. Eugene. He is in love with Sibelle; tell him she is to be married to-night. Boby. What ! you going to marry her? Eugene. No, but tell him so ; induce him to fire the house for revenge, he will go to prison, and we will claim the money. If that fail, I have a bottle of drugged whiskey, which will make him delirious. A small sum of money will procure a certificate from a physician that will send him to the insane asylum. Understand? crazy, f'll procure an \a li. J 7 ambulance, and instead of sending him to the hospital, he will go to the asylum. And it' all tail, [whispering in Boby a ear,] murder. Boby. I am afraid we will have to croke him. Eugene. If you find him, come here and let me know, but keep dark. Boby. All right; but how do you like my togs? [Taming around. | Aint they stunning ? Eugene. They are rather loud, too flashy — bad taste, bad taste. But when did you make a raise? Boby. I made a winning last night ; a guy staked me, I put my money down on the tray, it won through twice ; then I coppered the ten and, played the king open, it came ten, king, I won. So I came away with a big roll. Eugene. You were quite lucky. Boby. [Takes off hit. \ How do you like my cady ? Eugene. It is altogether too light ; but go, some one is com- ing. • [Exit Burt, r. Enter company of Ladies and Gentlemen from house. — Sibelle joins Eugene, and advances front. — Remainder of com- pany promenade off by walk, R. Eugene. Sibelie, this is no school boy's idle dream, it is love, deep and devotional. Sibelle. What is love, Eugene? Eugene. Love is the reflection of God in man ; no wrong motive is actuated by love, and when passion rules the hour, love takes its flight. Sibelle. Does love die? Eugene. Love dies with the soul. Sibelle. Then love never dies? Eugene. Love never dies. Sibelle. Too true — I'll doubt no more. Eugene. Yes, Sibelle, ours will be a path strewn with flow- ers of the sweetest fragrance. Ourgiounds adorned with a silvery lake, where snow-white swans with silver-tipped wings, will lightly skim o'er its smooth surface, while the rippling waves silently kiss the pearly shore. Statuary of unsurpassed beauty, promiscuously scattered o'er our gar- dens. The gushing fountains will sparkle in the summer sun, like myriads of diamonds, and the gold fish will sport among the coral beds in the translucent water. The white foam of the cascades will dance o'er crystalline rocks. Deer will gambol on the verdant lawn, and play hide and seek among the grottoes. Birds of different plumage will flap their varigated wings in the exhilarating air, wafting to our souls the sweet perfume. Golden- winged canaries, in silver cages, will warble a sweet continual chorus. The rarest paintings adorn our palace, and all else that art can add to the transcendant beauty of our paradise en earth will be 18 sibelle; or, up among the millions. ours. And when night takes the place of day, and the silent stars their vigils keep, and the tinted lilies bathe in the dew of heaven, our dreams will be of each other. Then, in the sleep of death, where dreams are not, in love well live in eternal bliss. Sibelle. It is music sweet, at eventide, to hear the whip-poor- will, that is nightly perched on yonder bow, and trills the hours away, while its soft notes lull me to sweet forgetful- ness; but sweeter still are thy noble sentiments of love. ( Music within.] Play on, sweet music, play; penetrate the inmost depth of my soul, and melt it in a mood to love. Enter John, English footman, in livery. John. Ma'm, the carriage is waiting, hand the coachman says as 'ow you 'ad better 'urry up, as the 'osses har getting fretful ! Sibelle. I'll be there soon, John. Enter Company from garden, R. u. e., and enter house, except Misses Jewett and Munger. Sibelle. [To Company.] Well, I must leave you for a short time. Miss Munger. Where are you going ? Not going to leave us, are you ? Sibelle. Only for a short time, and I hope you will pardon the breach of etiquette, in leaving you to entertain your- selves. Miss Munger. Certainly ; but this must be urgent business that takes you away from such a gay company as has assem- bled here to night. Sibelle. Yes ; I have heard, this evening, of a poor woman in distress ; she has three little children, and they are all in destitute circumstances. I could not close my eyes in sleep to-night, did I not go and see to their comfort. While we have plenty, and are living in luxury, and even while, to sweet music, we whirl in the mazy dance, we should remem- ber the thousands that are suffering around us ; and on such occasions, should an opportunity offer itself, to relieve suffer- ing humanity, it is our first duty to lay aside pleasure, and go where charity calls. Miss Jewett. Perhaps ihe cause of so much interest is due to the fact that the sufferer is a woman ? Sibelle. No, Miss Jewett; where duty calls, there we should go, be it man or woman ; neither should we be predjudiced against any nationality. America welcomes all to her free shores, and it is the duty of every true American woman, to extend charity to all. Miss Jewett. Yes, Sibelle, we will excuse you ; your efforts in the way of doing good, will be rewarded. Go t© the poor woman, and may the blessing of heaven be with you ! | Exit Misses Jewett and Munger. in home. act n. 19 Sibelle. Now, Eugene, good bye! I'll return soon ; please make an apology to the guests for my absence. Eugene. Yes, Sibelle; good bye, sweet! [They kiss. [Exit Sibelle, by walk, r. u. e. Enter Eda l. and retires L. Eugene. How beautiful she looks to-night! — Now to get Summerfield out of the way; then I'll hive his money, and Sibelle too. I'll go in and join in a quadrille, and perhaps when I'm through, Boby Burt will be somewhere about the premises. Enter Eda Thornton, from home. Eda. Where have you been, all the evening, Eugene? I have been hunting you. Just think, you haven' danced with me to-night. Eugene. Well, I declare, it is too bud ; but then I have been bothered some with a head ache to-night, and I thought the night air might relieve me some ; but I was coming in just as you came out. Eda. And I just came out just as you were coming in. Eugene, are you sure your head aches? Hasn't there been some one out here that has attracted your attention? [know- ingly.] Eugene. My attention? why no, of course not ; what makes you think so? Eda. [Slowly.] Oh, I dont know — havent you been talking to any one — to somebody ? Eugene. No, no — let me see — no, I haven't spoken to any one out here to-night, except my friend Mr Collins. Eda. I say, Eugene, does Mr. Collins wear dresses? Eugene. Of course he dont wear dresses. [Uneasy. Eda. Did you kiss Mr. Collins, Eugene? Eugene. No, I didn't kiss him — what do you mean? Eda. Oh, nothing, I thought you kissed him ; if you didn't kiss him it is all right, but I was beginning to feel very jealous. Engene. Oh, you were ? Well, let us go in now and haye a waltz? Eda. [Meaningly.] Eugene, dont you think it is very pleas- ant out here ? Eugene. [Not understanding.] Yes, it is pleasant, but I have, been out all the evening. Eda. I think is awful pleasant ! Dont you like to be alone sometimes, when you have some one to talk to that you like very well? Eugene. Oh, yes, I see [kisses her] ; but let us go in and we can come out after awhile ? Eda. Well, just as you say. [Exit in house Enter Boby Burt, r. Boby. I dont see anything of Summerfield. I am afraid 20 SIBELLE: OR, UP AMONG THE MILLIONS. I will have to give it up as a had job. Ah ! I wonder who that is coming? Enter Mr. Partington, as a Swell. Partington. Ah, gwacious, whose wesidence is this, Mistaw? Boby. I give it up, ask me a harder one. [Aside.] I won- der if I couldn't cap him into a game. Part, Ah, ah — you give it up ; yeas, yeas. I was stwolling awound, and thought I would come and see what was going on ; yeas, yeas. Boby. They're having a high old time in there, some one going to be spliced. • Part. Ah, weally, I dont understand you. Spwiced ! spwiced — 1 dont understand. Boby. I mean, some one going to get hitched. Part. Ah, yeas, yeas — but Mistaw, will you please explain what you mean by hitched ? Boby. Why some one going to be married. Part. Ah, ah ! yeas, yeas, I understwand you now, I weally do. Who compose the happy pwair ? Boby, I dont know ; some of the high-toned. Say, are you fond of sport? Part. Varwy fond of spwort. Boby. Well, come with me, I will show you a nice game. Part. Is it a dewightful game? Boby. You'll think its delightful, if you ever go against it. Part. Ah — yeas, yeas. [Exit r., arm in arm. Enter Phil, from house, Phil. [Looking out at walk.] I wonder why Miss Sibelle dont come back ; she done gone some time now ! Dey wants her in de house to help 'range for de concert datdey is gwine to have, for de benefit of de orphans' house, or someting else. Miss Sibelle has more doins and earrings on 'bout de poor white trash den I ever saw ; now if she was fussing 'bout quality folks, dat would be different. Dey just keep ole Phil jumpin' round all de time — yes dey do. Been try in' all de even' to get dat footman to write to Aunt Judy Clem- ens, but dey done took him away wid de carriage. I declar, if dar dont come dat rag man agin. Enter Clarence, r. u. e., walk. Clarence. Say, man, did you tell your mistress I wanted to see her? Phil. No, sah ; Miss Sibelle done gone out. Clarence. With whom did she go? Phil. I dunno, sah ; I speck wid Massa Watson. Clarence. Oh, curse that man — curse him — curse him! Phil. [Leaving hurriedly.] Dat man is bad medicine, sho'. He's pizen, I'm a tellin' you ! | Exit Phil, in house, ACT 11. 21 Enter Boby Burt, r. Boby My friend, you se?m to be in distress, can I help you? Clarence. No, I believe not ; I am nearly past all help. You called me friend ; I have no friends. Boby. Then those that were your friends have deserted you ; they have wronged, they have injured you. Clarence. Yes, yes; so they have. Boby. Even the lady, in whom you had so much confi- dence; was deceiving you. The lady who feigned friendship, the lady you loved, scorns you, while s\\^ is happy in the love of another. Clarence. [Sadly.] Yes, I know it too well; I know it, but why add to my misery ? - Boby. Believe me, I am your friend ; I sympathize with you, and am sorry to see you in such a state of wretchedness, but. if I were you, while there was a spark of life left me to raise my hand against my offenders, I would be revenged. Clarence. [Angrily.] So I will ! what would you have me do'' name it! Boby. When all are asleep, to-night, fire the house and consume her to ashes. Will you do it? Clarence. [Emphatically.] I will — I'll do it! Boby. Oil your word and honor as a man ? Clarence. [Thinking.] No, no, friend, I can't do that ; any- thing but that. Boby. Do you know the cause of so much gayety here to- night? Clarence. No, I do not; what is it? Boby. Sibelie and Mr Watson are to be married to-night. Clarence. [Astonished.] What is that I hear? Sibelie to be married ! Oh, no, no — It must not be. Oh ! why come here to taunt me ? Leave me, man, leave me ! Enter Eugene Watson, r. Boby. [Aside, to Eugene.] Say pard, I weaken, he is game. [Eugene gives Burt a reproachful look. Eugene. [Advancing to Clarence.] Ah, Clarence ! how do you do? Clarence. Sir, I dont shake hands with such as you. Eugene, Why, what is the trouble? Clarence. Trouble? trouble enough — dont ask me. Eugene. Clarence, I am very much grieved to see you in this condition ; but I will not wrong you by heaping blame upon you ;. for we are all liable to fall ; we all ; all have our faults. Clarence. Yes, and some have more faults than others. Eugene. Sir, do you wish to insinuate? 2'2 SIBELLE : uli, UP AMONG THE MILLIONS*. Clarence, f.fy.oi nside? it an insinuation, you can take it as such . Eugene. Do you wish to instill me? Clarence. I dont think 1 could insuti. you. Eugene. Sir. I will not quarrel with you, you are beneath my notice. [Starting to leave, towards door steps, Clarence levels a pistol on him : Boby Burt leaves stage hurriedly, with. both hands on hi* ears, j Clarence. Eugene Watson ! Put one foot on those steps and you are a dead man : quit the premises immediately. [Eugene looks at Clarence a moment, and then dart* to leave.] but stay ; a few words. [Eugene return*. Clarence. This weapon will he the means of launching my soul into eternity. Before I go, I will forgive you the wrong you have done me. Have you any whiskey to quench this dreadful thirst ? Eugene. Yes, I have some in m^ pocket ; here it is. Clarence. [Drinks and returns bottle.] Sibelle has gone out; will she he hack soon? Eugene. I think she will — but you would not injure her? Clarence. No, no — I would see her face once more, and then -farewell, until we meet in heaven. Oh ! how my brain whirls around — all is growing dark — ah ! ah! — [He falls ; Eugene looks over him. Eugene. The drug has done its work — he'll he raving bye and bye. [A thought strikes him.] I will kill him with Burt's knife [produces knife], and make my escape. His name is engraved on it, that will clear me. Sibelle's wealth, and fifty thousand dollars besides. [Looking to see if any one is around.] What, Sihelie coming! Curse the luck ! Enter Sibelle, by walk, h. Eugene. [Extending hands.] You have come. I have been waiting for you. Sibelle. Have you? But what have you here? Eugene. Sibelle, that is a crazy man that lias wandered in here. Poor fellow ! Sibelle, Poor man, how wretched ! Eugene, i think it better to send for an ambulance, and have him taken to the hospital. Sibelle. The insane asylum is the proper place to send him. Are you sure he is crazy ? Eugene, Yes; quite sure. Sibelle, Why couldn't we take him in the house until morning, he may only he intoxic-tted. Eugene. Surely, you would not think of that. What would the guests say ? Sihelie, Guests? what do I care for guests when a suffering ACT IL 23 hiunan being needs assistance? But, since you desire it send for an ambulance. Eugene. Yes; I'll go at once. [Exit, Eugene. Clarence [Revives, looks wildly around.} Ob, give me some whiskey — whiskey — whiskey. Sibelle. Poor man, I see he is 011)3- intoxicated; he has been drinking. Yes, I'll take him in my house, .and perhaps I can induce him to reform. He may be a man of noble principles, and can yet be saved from the mire into which he has fallen, and become a just and honorable man, a kind and affectionate father ; a fond and loving husband and an ornament to society. Clarence. [Raising on elbow.] Oh, could I see her face Si- belle- Sibelle ! Sibelle. What is that I hear? — my name ! — can it be he? Clarence.. That's it— that's it — "Beautiful Snow" — that is what she read to me. " Once I Avas pure as the beautiful snow." — If I could get some whiskey. I would not think of her. [Lays insensible. Sibelle. Yes, it is lie — it is, it is. [Arms around his neck and holds up his head.] Clarence, speak to me ! speak! Speak, Clarence, speak ! [ With extreme emotion.] What have I done to deserve this punishment? What have I done? [She bends over him. end of act ii. [Curtain. A C T [II. SCEXE. Same as Act I. f Scene 1st; stand and checkers R.; stand and chess board, l.; Sibelle and Eugene, r., Clarence and Eda, l., playing. Curtain rises. They play silently. Clarence pays no attention to the game, but watches Sibelle, jealously. Eda. W T ell, Clarence, why dont you move? I declare, you hardly know what you are doing! Clarence. Is it my move? I thought it was yours. Eda. You did, well you see you were mistaken. Clarence. [Moving and watching Sibelle. Eda moves.] Eda. What is the matter, Clarence, have you lost your mind, why dont you move? Clarence. [Starting.] Oh, yes, is it my move, where did you move ? Eda. I moved there [pointing], why dont you wateh the game? I will surely get angry and quit the game if you continue so disinterested. [Moving. Eugene. There, Sibelle, I beat you, [tapping her under the chin,] didn't I? Sibelle. Ah, that is too bad ; but I'll play you another game. ' 24 SIBELLE ; OR, UP AMONG THE MILLIONS. Eda. Move, Clarence, move ; you are not paying the least attention. What are you frowning at? [Clarence pays %© attention.] There, now, I'm mad; I w«nt play any more. [Rising. Clarence. What did you say? — you were saying something just now, were you not? |Eda looks -provoked, and leaves room. . [Clarence goes and sits at piano, fingering keys. Sibelle. There. Mr. Eugene, that makes two games I have beaten you, so you see yoii can't play as well as you thought you could. It may do you good to take some of that con- ceit out of you [h/ughing], ha, ha ha! Eugene. Let us quit, 1 can't play any more; that ding donging on the piano makes me nervous ; it bothers me. Sibelle. Well, since you have lost interest in the game, we might as well quit. Eugene. Just as you say, Sibelle; for anything you say is all right. Sibelle. Ah ! [ Exit Sibelle, r. d. ^Eugene. Clarence, do you play ? Clarence. No, I dont play ; my playing bothers you ; it makes you nervous. I may sometime have occasion to make you more ner.-ous. [Exit D. in f. Eugene. Why ! the man is angry at me ; I thought we were friends. Enter Eda, d. f. Eda. Eugene, did you find Sibelle very interesting? Eugene. Now, Eda, dont be foolish, you know we were only having a little game. Eda. From what I s aw, I thought you were having a pret- ty big game. Eugene. Now, Eda, I did not think that of you ; I did not think you would become jealous at nothing; we will not quarrel. Sing me one of your songs, will you? [Putting arm around her. Eia. Excuse me, Eugene, I don't feel like singing; I feel more like crying. Eugene. Then I will not ask you ; but you are looking very beautiful, to-day. Sibelle. [Walking in.) Yes, she does look very beautiful to- day. [Eugene starts, Sibelle gives him a sharp look. Eda. Thanks. Sibelle. Eugene. Yes, I mean — she is — she is — looking better than — than she- used to look. Sibelle. [A look of reproach.] Yes, she does indeed ; I think the atmosphere agrees with her. Eugene. Well, ladies, I have some business out in the city, which will take me away from you for a short time. Sibelle. Wait, and I will order the carriage. Eugene. Oh, no, it is not necessary, I can take a car. ACT 111. 20 Si&elle. I insist. [Rings bell, enter Philip.] Philip, tiie car- riage ! Phil. Yes, marra ; de carriage jis done driv around. Eda. If you are going down Broadway, I will accompany you, as T have a. little shopping to do. and you are going in the carriage. Eugene. Certainly, Eda. Eda. We will return soon, Sibelle. \K.rit Eda and Eugene, d. f. Sibelle. That woman is forever interfering with my plans. On account of Clarence I must stand by and witness Eugene's attentions to her and am forced to say nothing. How I hate her! I sometimes think Eugene does not care for me, hut when we are alone, in each other's company, he is so kind and pleasant. Oh, I wish I knew! If any one should tell me he did not rare for me I would not believe it. He says lie must be polite to her, but I can see a little more than politeness; even now she is with him. Oh, I must tell Clar- ence that I am his sister. If I do not, it will drive me mad! but then I cannot marry Eugene— I did not think of that. Oh, this dreadful secret- must the dark clouds ever hang o'er me — will the sunshine never come? [Rings bell, enter Philip.] Philip, take that picture out of my room. Those cold hard features looking down at me. makes a chill run through my veins ; and to think of his mysterious death makes my blood curdle. [Hands over face.} Ugh! [Phil starts with fright, and, looks behind him. Phil. Dont say dat, Miss Sibelle — I am not scared — it makes me feel kinder uncomfortable. Whar will I take it? Sibelle. Anywhere, out of my si^ht — any where ; in the garret. [Phil looks frightened, scratches his head, and looks at Sibelle. Phil. Does you mean me, Miss Sibelle? Sibelle. Yes, Philip; take it in that dark gloomy garret, that is the proper place for it. Phil. [Shaking with fright.} Oh, lor ! can't you send Sarah up dar? Sibelle. No ; Sarah will not do. Phil. All right. [Aside.] Ole Phd will never reach dat garret, [Exit Phil. l. 1 e. [Sibelle takes book at center table. Enter Clarence, d. in f. Clarence. I have been out walking, Sibelle, who do you think I saw ? Sibelle. Oh, I don't know. I am not good at guessing who did you see, Clarence ? Clarence. Eda and Eugene strolling over the garden ; they enjoy themselves very much ; they enjoy each others society [Sibelle bites her lips]. In fact, an observer would single 26 sibelle; or, up among the millions*. them out as lovers; they remind me of two doves, und when f last saw them they were in the arbor, their favorite trysting place. Sibelle. Are yon sure, Clarence ? They left in the carriage nearly an hour ago. Clarence. They sent the carriage hack ; Eugene, thinking the matter over, came to the conclusion that his business in the city was not of so much importance as he first thought. Oh, Sibelle. have you yet to learn the means lovers employ to effect a meeting? You know the old saying, " Lovers laugh at locksmiths."' Sibelle. -Clarence, why did you tell me this? Clarence. Oh, you are interested — I forgot! Sibelle. No, no — but then — Clarence. But what ? Sibelle. [Half angrily.} Nothing. Enter Philip, d. in v. Phil. Tears like its gwine to rain, Miss Sibelle, Mistah Eugene and Miss Eda'll get wet down dar, playing croquet. Sibelle. f Very angrily.] Leave the room, sir ! Phil. Yes, marm. [Exit hurriedly, d. in f. Clarence. Didn't I tell you ? Sibelle. I don't care, it is nothing to me. [Throws down book, provokingly. Clarence. Oh, I see you don't care, its somebody else, its nothing to you, oh, no; ha, ha, ha! Sibelle. Well, I don't ; there. [Tarns her head and smiles. Enter Eugene and Eda, d. in f. Eda. We have had such a pleasant time playing croquet; but it looked so much hke-rain, we were forced to come in. Sibelle. I. thought you were going out shopping. Eugene. As it was late, and I con Id not see my man, I thought I would defer the call until a more favorable oppor- tunity presented itself, and so Eda and I passed the time in a social game of croquet ? Clarence. [Seated at piano.] What kind of croquet were you playing? Eugene. Why, the usual game, of course. Eda. I did not know of only one kind of croquet. Clarence. Eda, did you ever hear this song ? [Singing.] " With his arms around her waist; Was that croquet? was that croquet? " Ha, ha, ha ! Oh, you are very innocent. Eda. I don't know what you mean. Eugene. Neither do I. Clarence. Oh, I suppose not; ha; ha, ha! [Exit Clarence, d. f. [Sibelle gives Eugene a withering look. Eda. Sibelle, it commenced to rain just as we reached the house; hut I think it is only a sun shower ; we need rain so much ; wont it, make your flowers look nice, though ' Sibelle. \ Pleas* My.} Yes, it will [Eut Eda. Eugene. How have you been enjoying yourself, Sibelle? Sibelle. I don't know as that would interest you if I should tell you. Eda seems to have wonderful powers of fascina- tion ; she has superior charms that more than satisfies you; she monopolizes your attention, while I am left to amuse myself the best I know how. Eugene. Sibelle, you must not talk that way; you know I care for you and you alone. Sibelle. You don't show it very much. Don't you suppose I can see ? Don't you suppose I know? [Angrily.} What were you and Eda doing in the arbor, while you were out? Eugene. [Looking guilty.] Who said we were ia the arbor? Sibelle. Oh, you need not plead innocent. I know, and I will not bear with your behavior any longer; and unless you cease your attentions to that woman, you can consider this our last interview. I will rco^bear with it any longer. Eugene. I will not pay any more attention to her than po- liteness will admit. Sibelle. [Quiekly-.} You must not even be polite to her — you love the woman— you can't fool me, Eugene. Yes; you love her and I hate her ! Eugene. I promise you Sibelle, I will only speak to her when I am obliged to. Sibelle. You must not speak to her — do you understand that ? [ E ugene bites his lips with rage. Eugene. I understand. Sibelle. Well, see that you do. [Eugene bows. Exit Sibelle. Eugene. [In a rage.] Oh! she shall pay dearly for this hu- miliation. I am in her power now; but the time will come when She will be in mine, bowed at my feet. [Exit D. in F. Enter Phil, l. 1 e. Phil. Dar, now, he is got his foot in it; he moughtknowed better dan to he__ sparkin 'round Miss Eda, ^gathering up chess and checkers,} kase when Miss Sibelle is mad she is bad, I tell you. Dey is some company in de parlor, I speo.k dey is gwine to come in heah in a minute, so I'll jis take dese out. Enter Partington. My golly, what a purtyman! Goodness! dat's de purtiest man in New York. Partington. Where is your mistwess ? Phil. [Looking at him.) Ha. ha, ha ! His mouf looks puck- ered up, like he'd bean eatin' green persimmons. Partington. What were you wemarking? Phil. Dis lessen at dat. Does you mean Miss Sibelle? Partington. Ah! yeas, yeas. 28 SIBELLE; OR, UP AMONd THE MILLIONS. Phil. Say. boss, you aint well, is you ? What is you been eato ? Partington. Oh. this is howid. Phil. Miss Sibelle he heah after while, I reckon. [ Exit Phil. r. d. Partington. Yeas, yeas ; I will wait. Enter Sibelle, r. d., Partington bows very low. Partington. Ah I Miss Sibelle, I believe. [Sibelle bows.) L called to see Mr. Watson ; I was infwormed that he was wisiting heah; I would like to see him on impwortant busi- ness. My name is Partington. Sibelle. I will find him. [Exit d. in p. Partington. Ah, thanks! What a charmwing cweture ; perhaps she would not object to my attentions. I will twy her. Enter Sibelle and Eugene ; Sibelle introduces Partington to Eugene ; both gentlemen bow and shake hands. Partington. I was infwormed that you were wisiting heah. I wanted some infwamation concerning a most deswirable wesidence that you have for sale. 1 called at your employ- ah's office and he was not in. Are you doing much in weal estate, Mr. Watson ? Eugene. Yes, very well ; but in regard to that residence, I dont know anything about it. Mr. Worthington just en- tered it on his books this morning. Enter Mr. Collins and Miss Jewett, d. in r. Partington. Ah ! yeas; well I can see you again, Eugene. Yes, yes. [Eugene bows to Miss Jewett and Mr. Collins. Si- belle introduces them to Partington. Partington bows very low. Partington. Miss Sibelle, you have a verwy fine location here, I admwire it very much ; the gwounds are beautifully laid out, and such exquisite fiowahs — delightful fluwahs. Sibelle. Yes ; it is quite pleasant. Enter Miss Munger, Mr. Allen. Eda and Clarence. Sibelle introduces TAUTmGTOK. All seated. Partington. Mist Sibelle. you have a gweat deal of compa- ny ; they can't wesist coming to this lovely we-tweat, espes- cially when there is such an entertwaining young lady at the head of the house. Sibelle. Do you think so? Partington. I weally do. Sibelle. I thank you very much for the compliment, Mr. — Partington. Partington is my name ; here is my card. Gwacious ! how stupid I am. not to give you my card be- All HJ. 90 fwore. Now, if you can favor us with some music, I think it could not be otherwise than highly appweciated. Sibelle. I am sorry to say I haven't given any attention to music for some years, so I hope you will excuse me. Eugene. No, Mr. Partington ; Sibelle devotes all of her spare time to the poor. Partington. Yes ; I thought she had an obliging disposition. Sibelle, I am afraid you are addicted to flattery, Mr. Part- ington. Partington. Ah. no ; I weally speak the truth. I could not speak too highly of you. Enter Philip, r. d., with tray of wine ; in^passing it around he does not notice Partington. Phil. [Aside.] Dar's dat purty man again. Sibelle. [After wine is passed, and Phil sets tray on center table.] Is this Oonig or Heidsic, Philip ? Phil. [Looking at Partington.] Yes, marm ; he looks sick. Sibelle. [ Tasting wine.] No. it is Conig. Phil. [To himself .] His name is Conig; Mr. Conig. Sibelle. Why, Mr. Partington, you have no Champagne. Philip, Mr. Partington. [Meaning to ha 'id him wine. Phil. [Extending his hand.] How de do, sah ? I was under de 'pression dat your name was Mistah Conig. Partington. Good gwacious, how absurd ! Sibelle. Philip, hand Mr. Partington some wine. Phil. Yes, marm. [Hands him wine, and upsets it in Partington's lap. Partington. [Wiping himself with handkerchief.] Good Gwa- cious ! this is dwedful ! [Phil brushes him hastily with dust brush. Phil. Dar, sah, you is all right. Sibelle. Philip, you are very stupid to-day. Mr. Partington, you have been rather unfortunate. Partington. Yeas, yeas ; extwemely unfortunate. Phil. [At center table.] I is a good templar ; I dar not drink, dis wine— dog my butions. if I believe it is wine. [Tastes it.] It's cidah- no 'taint cidah,it's Magnolia Balm, or Mrs. Wins- low's Soothing Syrup, da r /s what it is. [Tastes again.] No — no, sah, it's Florida water, sho' as you was born. [Drinks a glass.] I declar! dis tastes dis like tar juice. Sibelle. Philip ! Phil. Yes, marm. [Gathers up wine glasses and leaves room. Partington. I propose we have a quadrille. Eda, Yes, a quadrille. Partington. That will be chawming. [After they all have chosen partners.} Good gwacious ! I am left. [After quadrille.] Miss Munger, if you are not too twiard, let us have a waltz. Miss Munger. Certainly. [ They waltz ; all rest company join in. 30 SIBELLE; OK, UP AMnNK THE MILLIONS. Phil. [After iraltz.] Miss Sibelle, refreshments am ready. [Exit Phil. Partington. Ah, wefeshments. [Exit all except Partington.] [In natural voice.] Well, I think my disguise as a swell is complete. Eugene Watson is the man I am after; I must make it convenient to call her* often. Enter Sibelle, l. d. Sibeile. All alone, Mr. Partington? Are you not going out to refreshment? Partington. Wefeshments ? Ah. yeas. yeas. Sibelle. If Mr. Watson is not engaged, please say to him 1 would like to see him. Partington. Ah, yeas, yeas; he seems to be wonderfully in- tervvested in the lovely Miss Eda. When do you think will be the eventful time? I mean the wedding. Sibelle. I am sure I do not know; you will have to inquire of some one more informed on the subject. Partington. Ah, yeas, yeas. [Exit Partington, l. d. Sibelle. Oh, I cannot bear this longer ; their intimacy is be- coming the general subject of conversation among my guests. Enter Eugene, l. d. Eugene. All alone? why do you not join in the festivities? You are not very gay of late. Sibelle. From all appearances, and from what I hear, you have been enjoying the festivities. I am not so charming or interesting as some one else who favors you with her delight- ful company. Eugene. I did not expect this rebuke from you ; I thought I would find you, and we would have a pleasant time. Sibelle. Find me? Yes; when I sent for you, you thought it time to find me— and as for a pleasant time, I think our pleasant times are past. Eugene. I will leave you until you are in a better mood. Exit d. in F, Sibelle. He little knows the woman he is tampering with. Enter Clarence, d. in v. Clarence. Sibelle. 1 have some news, which, perhaps it would be as well to tell you. It is this: after thinking the matter over for some time, I have finally decided to leave America. Sibelle. Why this sudden freak ? Clarence. From the first time I saw you there has been a strange fascination that has ever drawn me toward you ; you have been kind— very kind at times, but it changed to cool indifference. I b among the millions. Sibelle. Now, merciful heaven, defend me ! Spirit of the departed, hover o'er And protect me from this vile monster ! Eugene. Ah, you do not laugh now. Sibelle. [Bowed at his feet] Oh, sir, spare me — spare me — have mercy ! Eugene. Bowed at my feet at last. Sibelle. Yes, yes, a thousand times yes ; von will not expose me? Eugene. If you consent to be my wife, I will not. Sibelle. Oh, sir, have some mercy — have some pity — if you have a sister, think of her in my condition. I could not make you happy — do not ask me to be your wife ! Eugene. That you must be. Sibelle. Have" you no fueling? Have you a heart? Can you not be induced to release me ? Will nothing suffice? Is there no alternative ? Eugene. No ; do you consent ? Sibelle. Oh, kill me and end my misery. Eugene. Do you consent? Sibelle. Have you no heart? Eugene. Xo, Sibelle. Is it turned to stone? Eugene. Yes; stone — stone. Sibelle. Can I not hope for mercy ? Eugene. Mercy ? Talk not to me of mercy ; Talk to the winds, to the moon, the stars ; Talk to any thing, not human, and it Will as soon have mercy. For the last Time I ask, do you consent? Sibelle. Yes. Eugene. Then I will go for a minister immediately. Sibelle. What, so soon ? Eugene. Yes ; this very night. [Clock strikes one. Sibelle. One o'clock ; but this is morning. Eugene: This morning, then. [Starts to leave room. Enter Clarence, d. in f. Eugene. What! Mr. Summerfield ? Clarence. Yes ; Mr. Summerfield. I have a little settle- ment with you Eugene. Sir, explain. Clarence. You are in possession of this lady's secret. Now sir. why do you compel my sister to marry you ? Eugene. [ With surprise.] Your sister ? Clarence. My sister ! Eugene. [With emphasis.] Your sister? Clarence. Yes, my sister ! Eugene. I do not choose to explain. ACT V. 4") Clarence. Then, sir. as L have said before, 1 will have satisfaction. [ Throwinq glove at him,.] Accept thai, you insig- nificant puppy. Eugene. Do I understand that this means a challenge- that ii means knives? Clarence. Yes; knives to the hilt — to the hilt! Eugene. I do net accept. Clarence. In that case, you black hearted coward, the weapons shall be pistols, the time shall be whenever we meet again — at sight. [Pointing pistol at him.] I will give you one minute to decide. Do you agree? Eugene. [Bowing and starts to leave.} I do. Clarence. One moment. [Eugene stops.] Remember, at sight. Clarence Summerfield is a man of his word, and if you have not the courage to stand up and right like a man, l will shoot you down as I would a dog. [Exit Euoene i). in f. Clarence. Sister, I overheard your conversation, and I could hardly refrain from shooting the villain on the spot. This, then, is your secret? Sibelle. Yes; and now I must tell yon that I am not your sister. I thought you were Will Hastings, from the letter and my mother's picture, that you had in your possession. I could not tell you before, for reasons best known to myself, and I can trust the secret with yon, for you have always stood high in my estimation. Clarence. I see it has been a mistake. Your secret is safe with me; but I cannot endure the thought that yon are not my sister, and compelled to be ids wife. Oh, Sibelle, be my wife. I love you. Sibelle. I cannot trust my secret with him. I could not endure it to be pointed out as a murderess, or even for being tried for murder. Were it not for that, f would consent. Clarence. This is too much to bear! Sibelle. Clarence, you must not endanger your life for me : I am not worth it. Were I free from this man, I could not make you happy with this dreadful secret weighing me down. Now I beg of you, do not fight that duel, will you Clarence? Clarence. Fight? Send the bullet through the coward'* lie art! [Exit Clarence, d. in v. [Light thunder and lightning. Sibelle. Great Heavens ! Must I endure all this — drag out a miserable existence with a man whom I despise ? Even his presence \ abhor as a hissing viper, coiled to sting with poisoned fangs. Yet I must be his wife — Oh, horrors ! I cannot, it will kill me, it will kill me! [Bowed in grief, on cha,ir, r. c, slov) music. [Stom^ thunder, lightening and rain. 46 SIBELLE ; OR, UP AMONG THE MILLIONS. Enter Eugene and Minister, d. in P. Eugene leads Sibelle r. facing l Eugene. Proceed, Mr. Howell. Mr. Howell. Eugene, do you take this woman to be your lawful wedded wife, to love, honor, cherish and protect, through sickness and sorrow, prosperity and adversity, for- saking all others, and cleaving unto her, until death do part? Eugene. I do. Mr. Howell. Sibelle, do you take this man to be your law- ful wedded husband, t© love, honor, cherish and obey, through sickness and sorrow, prosperity and adversity, for- saking all others, and cleaving unto him, until death do part? Sibelle. I do. Mr. Howell. If there be any that know any just cause or reason why these two should not be united in holy wedlock, they can now speak, or forever hold their peace. After a pause, enter Partington. Partington. Yes, I have a reason, and at is because that man, Eugene Watson, is guilty of the murder of Nathan Saunders, the husband of this lady. [Producing blood stained handkerchief. [Eugene looks thunderstruck.] Do you recognize this, Mr. Watson ? Sibelle. Thank heaven, the mystery is solved at last ! Partington. Yes, sister; this has been my one object for the last five years. I have at last found the guilty one. My detective life is ended, and you are a free woman. Sibelle. Oh, brother, how can I ever repay you? Partington. Don't mention that. Enter Clarence, 1st e. l., and levels pistol on Watson. Eugene. [Coolly.] I am not armed, Mr. Summerfield. Clarence. [Lowering pistol] Our agreement was to shoot at sight ; but I will not take undue advantage of you ; I will furnish you with a pistol. We wjll stand back to back, as far apart as this room will admit ; Mr. Partington will count three, then we will turn and fire. Do you consent? Eugene. [Bowing.] I do. [Clarence hands him a pistol. Sibelle. Clarence, do not endanger your life, you may be killed! [Exit Sibelle, l. d. Mr. Howell. Yes, you may be killed — Gentlemen, I im- plore, desist ! [Rubbing hands, excited.] Oh, the scandal, gentlemen, the scandal ! Oh, I cannot witness this affair. [Exit d. in F. [They take positions. Eugene, r. u. e.; Clarence, l. 1 e. Partington. Are you ready ? Both. Yes. ACT V. +7 — Partington. One — two — Enter SiBELLE, mncli agitated. Sibelle. For heaven's sake, brother, do not say the word! Forbear awhile, I beseech you! [To Clarence.] Do not siain your hands in blood! Should you triumph in this, nothing could mitigate the stinging remorse of a guilty con- cience ! Clarence, let the law take its course. Clarence. The law ? Sibelle. Yes ; this man, Watson, is now under arrest for the murder of my hut band, and I believe him guilty. Partington. So he is. Clarence. Sibelle, you are right. You are always right ; and now I claim } r ou mine forever. Sibelle. Thine far ever. [Curtain. LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 016 103 690