Tin- TWO li)CKI'TS, A ROMANTIC DRAMA IN THREE ACTS. B-2- JOXIIT I^. Ib-dT-fi-m^E-^. * Ci; Entered according to act of Congress, in tlie year 1883, by John I . Makke the office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington, D. C, NEW ORLEANS: 1885. ^~\ r Sr»ECIyVI^ NOTICIG. The Author of this Drama havinq- complied with all the requirements of the law, warns aciors, managers and others ng-ain;^t any infringment on his rights, in publicly producing- this play, without obtaining his written consent. THE TWO LOCKETS, A ROMANTIC DRAMA, IN THREE ACTS. B^ TOXHin^T lE^. i^A:^^-:Eii^:Enr. Entered according to act of Congress, in the year 1883, by John F. Markey, in the office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington, D. C. NEW ORLEANS: Patterson & Co., Puhlisiiers, 12 Union Street 1885. < To MLR. I>AVID BIDWEL.L1, in earnest appreciation of his indefa- tigable EFFORTS IN CATERING TO THE DRAMATIC TASTE OF A NEW ORLEANS PUBLIC, AND IN RECOGNITION OF HIS SUCCESS AS A MANAGER, THIS PLAY IS MOST RESPECT- FULLY DEDICATED. J- F. M. CAST OF CHARACTERS: Mr. Sanders A Retired Merchant Gerald Gray His Nephew, Frank Travers ... A Black Sheep, Cage Spotter A Detective, Charles Coats A Miner, Jerry. Scribbler Reporter " Morning; News, *Barton Lindsey The Money Lender, Eva Sanders A Young Heiress, Martha Coats Her Companion, Kate Briggs A Domestic. SYNOPSIS OF DRAMA. ACT I.— Sanders Villa. The Accusation: " I am Cage Spotter, the Detective.'''' ACT II. — Sanders Hall. The Murder: '^Gerald Gray has killed me''^ ACT III. — Sanders Villa. The Two Lockets : A bright awakening from a sad, sad dream- 'U the manager so desires, this part may be played as a Jew character. The Two Lockets. ACT I. ^cene. — Exterior of Mr. Sander'' s house, K,iaiih steps leading into garden: railing fence i)i back ivith door in c./ tvood drop back of fence, tcible with rustic chairs and bench in garden, R. c./ hwge I'ase contdini7tgJlo7vers, 1.. C. Lively music at rise of curtain, eight bars. Kate Briggs discoz'ejed arranging foTuers in vase. Kate. Now I am sure this lovely boquet will suit the refined tastes of my young mistress and her new chaperon, Miss Martha Coats. 1 do love to pass away my time among the roses, {coming doum to be7ich, L. ) Oh! dear how tired I am this morning, {sits) I do wish those nasty robbers had not paid us that visit during the night, and Mr. Sanders would have allowed us to take our usual rest, and not have us up and ru'-ning arouud the house like wild rabbets, long before it was daylight, {bell rings) Dear me, who can that be, at this time in the morning? {rises and looks off V) Bless me if it aint mv old sweetheart, Jerry Scribbler. {Enter Sciibbler, L. 2. E. 7i'ith roll of paper a7id pencil.) Scrib. Jeremiah Scribbler, Esq., city editor of the "Morning News." Well, Kitty, my dear, you're an early bird I see. Kate. (r. c.) "The early bird catches the worm," you know Scrib. Scrib. Hush! don't call me Scrib, rather ill-sounding my dear, especially for a gentleman of mv profession. But I say, Kitty — Kate, My name is not Kitty, its Catharine; and I prefer to be called that, since itsounds much better for a lady of my standing. Scrib. Hal ha! ha! come, thats good, but don't be angry with me, Kitty, haven't you promised that, one of these fine days, you will become Mrs. Jeremiah Scribbler.'' Kate. Yes, but I'm likely to change my mind, unless you give up those high toned airs which you have assumed ever since you quit the tadoiing business, to become a third rate ink slinger, in a fourth class pap -r office. Jeremiah Scribbler, indeed! with an E. S. Q. tacked on; wonder it wasn't an L. L. D,, that would be the proper title, then I could naturally guess it to be — Scrib. What? Kate. Long legged donkey. Scrib. Catharine — Miss Briggs — you astonish me. What would my friends think if they heard such language addressed to me? Me, Teremiah Scribbler, special correspo /dent for "De Functs Weekly" and leading editor of the "Morning News." I tell you Catharine, I will not tamely submit to such an insult, especially from the lips of her whom I hinl hoped to make my wife. I know what's the matter, you're in love with some other fellow, I suppose,and have taken this opportunity to get rid of me — well I'm g«>ing. {sits on bench i.. and ittrns from her. Kate down R ) There now, don't ask me to stay. I am sure you don't love me any longer, so I'll leave you at once; farewell Kn.\.e, {looks around) didn't you hear me Catharine? I said 1 was going. Kate. \'ou don't seem to be in a hurry to get away. Scrib. Wont you say farewell to your old love? Kate, {boioing) Farewell Mr. Jeremiah Scribbler, E. S. (). and [y. L. D. Scrib. {rises) Confound it, I do believe the woman is without a heart {goes to her) tell me, Kitty, why do you speak to me in such a cool manner as that? 4 THE TWO LOCKETS. Kate. I am following your instructions sir, I do not wish to apply an ill sounding name to a gentleman of your profession. Scrib. Oh! hang the profession, call me anything you like, but don't be angry with me. Kate. I'm not angry; only I should like to cure you of those high fangle notions of yours, that's all. Sometime or other you'll think yourself sucii agreat /az/z, that you'll blush to admit you ever did bestow a look of favorupon a poor orphan girl Itke me. {weeps) Scrib. Oh! Kate why do you jump at such a conclusion? You know that I always will love you, and when I spoke to you just Jiow, I did not intend to hurt your feelings, I only did it for the sake of my profession. One must stand upon his dignity you know. Kate. You may stand upon your head for all I care, provided you permit me to address you in my old familiar way. Scrib. So Kitty you love me then? Kate. Of course I do. Why shouldn't I love my old Scrib., even if his- head is a little turned. Scrib. \_hiiggi"ii ^i^f~\ Bless you; bless you for those words. Kate. What! about your head being turned? Scrib. Hang it, no. You understand what I mean. Kate. I think I do, but tell me Scrib; what has brought you around here so early this morning? Scrib. Oh! yes I had almost forgotten it. Come then, take a .'eat, and let me interview you? \_sits on bench L.J Kate. Interview me? I scarcely understand you, but proceed. Scrib. You see, Kitty, in my visit here this morning, I have combined business and pleasure, and — as the fellow said, who invited his friends to supper after his wife's funeral — pleasure being over, lets proceed to business. Kate. Be good enough to state your business, then we can proceed. \jits\ Scrib. Exactly; well as I was about to remark —or rather, as I was going to inquire — is there any truth in the rumors which I have heard this morn- ing, regarding a robbery which was committed here sometime during the night? \^Kate starts, Scribbler sharpens his pencil^ no evasive answer now; out with it, Yes or No? {^During the folloiving scene Scrib is meriting.'} Kate. Why yes. But lor me! how did 5'ou . come to hear about it ? bless me if news don,t travel like lightning in this here neighborhood of ours. Scrib. How did I hear it? Oh! we reporters are always on the alert, and catch an item where we least expect one. I tell you Kitty, nothing can es- cape us. If a man were to fall from the top of St. Paul's church, we would have the article written up, and published, before the fellow would reach the ground. Kate. Don't say! v^^ell now that's what I call real smartness. You're well paid for the work no doubt? Scrib. Well yes; thirty dollars a week is not such bad pay after all, and then we have perquisites you know. Kate. In the shape of free drinks, and theatre tickets, eh? Scrib. Yes — No; but lets proceed with our interview; at what time of night was the r 'bbery committed? Kate. Don't know; suppose you say between 7 p. M. and 7 A. M., that would come near it, I believe. Scrib. Very well, go on — [ivriting'} Sometivie during the night the resi- dence of Mr. Sanders was entered by a band of masked robbers. Kate. Hold on Scrib, how do you know the robbers were masked ? Scrib. To be sure they were masked, all robbers are masked nowadays, besides, it will make the article appear more sensational. Proceed, how many do you suppose were in the band? Kate. How am I to know, when I did not hear about the affair until this morning. Scrib. But you must have heard a noise in the house, sometime durino- the night? *" Kate. No, not even the bark of our dog. I never slept sounder in all my life. Scrib. Oh! I see, I see, [7c>n/es} a hand of masked robbers u< ho, upon en- tering, threw a poisoned sausage to the maid, chloroformed the dog and the other in/?iates of the house — proceed. Kale. Scrib, I do believe you're going mad. What is that you have written about the poisoned sausage? Scrib. ^looking at hii paper^ Oh! beg your pardon Kitty; I should have given the dog the sausage, and you the chloroform; but in my eagerness to get at the bottom of this affair, I find myself considerably mixed. Kate. And so were the drinks that you have laken this morning, I should think. You will have to excuse me for'the present, prises] please don't let me detain you any longer. I expect my mistress here in a few seconds, and must have the coffee ready for her. Scrib. Just so; well I can finish up this article after a while, [r/j^j] Perhaps when I call again, you can give me more information on the subject; good morning Kitt>. {^shake hands^ Try and find out all the particulars for me, by the time I return— do now, that's my own darling— I'm off now, take care of yourself till I come back. Igoes tip'] Remember, Kitty, where the interview was broken off. Just after you took the chloroform. (Exit i,.) Kate. ILookiiig after him] Well T declare, if that aint one of the maddest mad men, that I ever saw in all my life. Wonder if the little fool intends to publish such an article as that? poisoned sausage indeed; T should like to have a string of sausages around his neck, and hang him to one of the near- est lampposts. \_Crmes down] I do wish he would give up this newspaper business for I don't think I can ever marry him, while he Carries on in such a nonsensical manner. Eva. \_calloJf'K] Kittty! Kate. Coming ! Miss Eva's voice; lor me, she will see by my face, that something unusual has happened {j^vipes face with apron— goes up and meets Eva and Martha 7uho en to R. rnusic plaintive, four bars.\ . Eva. Kitty, you have kept us waiting this morning; have you the coftee ready? Kate. I will go and bring it immediately Miss; you will find your bouquet in the vase yonder \^Eva goes down l] Miss. Martha, shall it be coffee or chocolate this morning? Martha. A drop of black coffee, if you please. Kitty; the excitement this morning has unnerved me, and I will take the coffee as a stimulant. [A^ate do7vs and exits into house. Martha comes down K. and sits in chair at table] Eva. Oh! my, what a pretty bunch of roses this is to be sure, {sits at tab/e] Martha have you ever seen anything so lovely? I declare it is perfectly charming. Martha, {taking bouquet] It is certainly very pretty, Eva, but I regret tn say, that I am in such a despondent mood at present, that even those lovely flowers have no charms for me. It is a shame, I know, to allow this feeling to take hold of me. But oh! P>a, I cannot, I cannot m?ster it. {Drops />ou- quet on table] Eva. Are you ill Martha? {rises and goes toicards her] Martha. No my dear, not exactly ill, only low spirited. There is a feel- ing of dread about me, and, try as I will, I cannot arouse myself from this frightful despondency. Eva. You surely have no cause to be sad my dear. Have I not been kind to you, ever since you have taken up your abode here with us? and oh! Martha you know that I love you as dearly as a sister. b THE TWO LOCKETS. Martha. Bless you my own darling [;7.ft\f] you have been too good to me. I have received nothing but kindness, at the hands of yourself and your good kind father. Eva. And cousin Gerald alsc; I am sure he loves you, ever so much, and would do anything to please you. Martha. \_agitated'\ Hush, Eva, it is not proper for you to speak in that manner. Mr. Gray is very friendly to me, to be sure, but it is for your sake; he respects me as his cousin's companion. Eva. [cr;r///v] I think, I have discovered in my cousin's actions towards you. a semblance of a stronger feeling than friendship. Martha. \_Starting^ Eva, if you love me — as T know you do — you will not trifle with my feelings in that manner. Gerald Gray can never be anything but a friend to nie, and I shall always respect him as such. [Kitty enters frovi Jionsc tvith coffee on tray and places it on table'} But let us change the subject, my head aches, and I think this mouthful of coffee will revive me. \_sips coffee] Eva. I hope it will, Martha, ^j-] Martha. Knowing as we do now, the history of the missing locket, we can deeply sympathize with you at its loss. But, be not disheartened sir, you may yet recover it. Sand. I hope so Martha, for I assure you I will leave no stone uniurned in the search for the culprit. But I must now leave you my children, as the day is far advanced, and I have some important business to arrange, \exii into house R.] Eva. Well really, I did not think that my father, cold and morose as his disposition is, could have ever loved. Martha. The bitter diappointment which he experienced in his early love, is no doubt the cause of his seemingly unaffectionate nature; I say seemingly, Eva, for I know that your father's affection for you, is very great; and his kindness to me, is sufficient proof that his heart is not as cold as one would suppose it to be. Eva. True, Martha, he is one of the best of fathers, and my heart aches for him because I know he is sad; br.t I will go to him, and try and console him all I can. I do wish Gerald would return from town, the place is so lone- some without him. Martha. You expect Mr. Travers also, I believe? Eva. Yes; they will return together . I was in hope that when he left last night, he would not come back, but, on Gerald's invitation, he is to re- main here for at least a month longer. I do not like the man, and I assure ACT I. 9 you, Martha, it is a hard task for me to appear agreeable towards a person to whom I have taken a dislike. Martha. Mr. Travers seems tohave taken a decided fancy to you my dear. Eva. I presume that is the cause of my antipathy towards him. Well I'm going my dear. [,^w.r up siai^e^ I know some one who has taken quite a fancy to you, Martha, {exits into house R.] Martha. Foolish girl, {sits) As if I am not aware of her cousin's love fur me. She little knovvs, that it may lead to serious results, and be the cause of parting her and me forever. Oh! why does he love me so? I who am so far beneath him in wealth and social position. What have I to give him but a pure heart, and Heaven knows he has taken that already, {rises'] Yes I can- not deny the fact, I love Gerald Gray, but God only knows what may be the consequences. What am I to do? If I remain here, I will surely betray my love to him — and if I go — but where would I go ? its foolish of me to think of such a thing — No, I will watch and wait, and Heaven, in its own good time, will, 1 hope, bring all things right. {Lively music. tenter Gerald c. Vi. dressed in ridin<' costume with whip in hand. He walks dotvn stacre, on toes, and places hands over Martha's eyes. Martha, {starts'] Bless m^! who is that? Why Eva, how you frighten me. Gerald. Ha! ha! ha! Well I declare, Martha, I expected y-.u would give P closer guess than tliat; do these clumsy hands of mine feel as soft as cousin Eva's fingers? Martha, {confused] Ah! excuse me, Mr. Gray; I was not looking for you — thot is — I mean^ did not expect you to return so soon. Gerald. I understand. Well I should have remained away a little longer, and see what effect my return would have, after a few weeks absence. Martha. 'Tis well you have come; the place was so lonesome without you — at least, so Miss Eva has j^ist remarked. Gerald. Did '>he? Well I am glad some one has missed me. I don't sup- pose you have found :he place so very lonesome, Martha? Martha. Why, you were only away one night, Mr. Gray; you speak as if you had travelled quite extensively. Gerald, ludging from your manner towards me, I presume it would make very little difference to you, if I had gone to the North Pole, and remained there for warm weather to set in. Marthn. Your judgment is at fault then, for in that case I would write, and beg you to return immediately. Gerald. You would? {advancing towards her). Martha. Yes, for your overcoat, laughing) Gerald. Confound it; Martha, why can't you be serious in this matter? You kuow 1 love you, T have told you so already; and yet, you refuse to give me one word of hope or encouragement. Oh! how can you treat me so? Martha. Hush, Mr. Gray; some one may be listening, and besides, this is no time for love making, when 'here is such confusion here. Gerald. Confusion! How? Mariha. About a robbery, which was committed in the house sometime during the night; and, your uncle is very uneasy about the loss he has sustained. Gerald. A robbery! at what time did it occur? Martha. No one knows; we did not discover it until th's morning. Gerald. Bless me, if that aint news. The amount must be very great, since you say my uncle is so worried about it. Martha. To him the 1( ss is very great; for he assures us, that half his for- tune would not replace what has been stolen. Gerald. This is too bad. I do wish. Travers was here, he is a cute fellow, and would assist us in finding, out a clue. Martha. He was t-xpected to return with you, I believe? Gerald. Yes— but he left me at the turnpike, as he had some business in the city, however I expect him here shortly. ]0 THE TWO LOCKETS Martha. Well, I will go and announce your arrival, to your uncle and Miss I-Cva; they are both anxious to see you. Ger. Do; and say, that I will be with them presently. (Gerald leads her to steps; exit Martha R. Gerald comes down i:. Gerald. {Looking at wa.tch. ) It is n( w past mid-day. What can be keeping Frank? I hope he has not forgotten his promise to me, of renouncing that gambling mania which seems to have taken hold of him. Ah! me, how some young men throw themselves heedlessly into the arms of misfortune. It is a great pity, for my young friend to thro.v hnnself away in that manner, and I am determined he will not do it, if I can prevent him. Frank. {Speaking off' c") Well, come along then. If you're an honest man you will not be afraid of showing yourself. Gerald. That is Frank's voice, I wonder what is up? {Enter Frank c. dragging in Spotter 70/10 is disguised as a German gardener. ) Spot. Dont tore my clos. Dot vos de pest suit vot I got, und Gretcheii put me new patches on, only yesterday. Frank. Well why don't you walk then? see here Gerald, stick a pin in this fellow, and see if he's alive. Gerald. What's the matter, Frank? what has the fellow been doing? Spot. Dot is vot 1 like to know myself, vot 1 have been doing ? Frank. What have you been doing? Why, didn't I find you prying around this gentleman's house, in a very suspicious looking manner? and didn't yuu try to hide your,- elf, when you saw me coming? Spot. Mine Got! I believe dot man vas crazy, I dont vas Paul Pry, mine frend. My name vas Fritz von Bluff, und I come here to look for work. Frank. Through the window of a person's house, is not the place to look for work. Spot. Nine; I dont look on dat window through. I yust ax de lady, mit dem russels on de apron, if she would give me a drink of vater. Gerald. Frank, 1 think your suspicion about this fellow is well founded. I say my friend, I've no doubt you have been in this house before? Spot. Nine. Gerald. But I say yes, Mr. Von Bluff; and I believe you are the one, who committed the robbery here last night. Frank, [starting] A robbery, Gerald? Gerald. Yes, and I think this fellow can tell us something about it. Frank, [aside] So they have discovered it already. Well, mums the word. [shakes Spotter] Come, you rascal, I knew you were a rogue, the moment I set my eyes upon you, out with the truth now, or I'll break ever) bone in your body. Was it you committed the robbery? Spot. Mine Got! Mine Got! you shake me all the buttons off luine coat, so help me gracious I don't know vot you talking about. Gerald. We are talking about a robbery, and 1 believe you are the guilty party. Spot. Nine, nine. I never stole me five cents since I vas born. Frank. Then, what business have you prowling round here? Spot. Veil, I told you I vas looking for work, und the gentleman vat lives here, have sent for me to fix up his flower garden. Gerald. We will soon see if your statement is correct. Here Frank, take hold of this fellow and let us bring him to my uncle. P'rank. Come along Mr. Bluff; we will inquire into the merits of your case. [Gerald and Frank Zr/;/^ Spotter into the house R. Enters Scribbler loJio discovers them. Scrib. What does all this mean? Ah! they have captured the thief no doubt. By Jupiter this promises to be a first class article for the "Morning News," and the best of it is, that none of the other papers have got on to the racket yet. Scribbler you're a trump. Your smartness will be the making of you. I wonder where Kitty is? I should like to finish our interview. [Looks into ACT I. 21 house K-\ I would give half my ^A eeks wages, if I could only manage to rret into that house, and And out what is going on. Let's see, perhaps I may be able to discover something from the outside. I don't like to play the sdv you know, but the end justifies the means, {peeps iftto house] Eh! what's'that 1 see? they are accusing the fellow, before the gentleman of the house who seems to be questioning him very closely. The fellow hands a note to Mr Sanders who is reading it. [laughing heard 7vitl>out] All hands are lauehin?' there is evidently a mistake. Mr. Sanders poit ts in this direction— the fel low IS coming this way. and by Jove, Kitty is coming along with him. Now tor a place to hide myself until 1 can find out the meaning of all this, [hides] [^'^^^'' Spotter ajtd Kitty K. from house.] Kitty. A curious mistake sir, but T hope you are not offended. Frav whnt is your name my good man? ^ Bluff^^' ■^"^^ ''''" ^^"^' ^°'' ^'"''^'^ '''''''''^' """^ ^ '''•'^ y""" ^'''' ^''^- ^'"" Scrib. [/>ack] Eh! what's that? Kate. Very familiar on short acquaintance, Mr. Von Bluff, but I'll not be hard on you, considering the rough treatment which you have just received Spot. \aw! \aw! dein fellows pinch me mv nrms black und blue und spoil my new cloths. Kate. Ha! ha! ha! What a funny mistake. _ Spot. Yaw! dot vas awful funny. I vould not steal me nothing here excent It vas you I stole. ' ' Scrib. The rascal, I should like to punch his head. p ^S^^^' ^ ^°"'^ ^^''"'^ ^ would be worth the trouble of your taking, Mr Von • ^^^' S^' r^°"'^ ^^^'^ "^^ ^"^^ ^'^y' "^^^ ^'^^^ eyes. You make my head jump, und I feel de blood dancirg on de tops of my fingers. Scrib. I shall make the blood dance from the top of your nose, presently Kate Well, sir; I will leave you now to perform your work, you will find the garden implements behind the house yonder, when dinner is ready I will send tor you. -^' Spot. Oh! dont you go yet; cant you told me something about dot robbery yot everybody speaks so much about? ■ Kate. All I can tell, you is that some valuable jewelry was taken from the Jiouse during the night, and we are all an.xious to find out who the thit-f can Spot. So, some jewelry eh! how the thief ccme in the house? [Scribbler comes doum between them.] Scrib. I wouldn't mind knowing that myself, dutchy? Spot. Jimminy! who vas dot? Kate. Only an old sweetheart of mine. Mr. Von Bluff, don't mind hi-n [Spotter r^Z/rt-j- ///.] , ' * Scrib. Well Kitty, what comes after the poisoned sausage^ K?te. Colic, I should think, Scrib. Scrib. Humliug; I mean, have you any more information for me? Kate. Nothing— only what you know already; Master Gerald and his friend, Mr. Travers, have returned from town, however, and perfians thev will be able to discover a clue. ^ Scrii>. [Points to <^^oi] I thought they had discovered one just now [vSpotter comes do7vn[ Kate. Oh, no, this is our new gardener; let me intrD.luce you to him- Mr Von B.uff. my friend Mr. Scribbler, [they shake hands.] Scrib. Glad to meet you. So it wa< a bluff then after all. Spot. Yaw, yaw; von big bluff. They thought I vas a robber. Scrib. A very natural mistake for them' to make, I assure you. Spot. Eh! Vot you mean? Scrib. I mean, that you look more like a thief than a mule. Spot. Ha! ha! ha! you vas a funny fellow, [gees up] ]2 THE TWO LOCKETS. Scrib. I say Kitty, if I see that fellow making love to you again, as he has b:en doing just now, there will be a job for an undertaker around here; do you unde stand? Kate. That will be a grave offense, my dear, and I hope you'll not imder- take to do it. Scrib. Come, no punning, now I'm serious in what I say. I don't like his familiarity toward you. and I hope you will put an end to it at once. Kate. {Aside'] Bless me if the little fool aint jealous, [io hirn] Well Jerry, I thought you had a better opinion of me than that; but to convince you of what little respect I have for the fellow, why, I will snub him at once \to Spot] Von Bluff you may retire for a while, we desire to be alone. Spot. So you want I go out, eh! I reckon you got some secrets vot you don't want J hear; all right my little pigeon, I go. \He goes towards house kissing hts hand to Kate. ] Scrib. Damn! the fellow. I'll break every bor.e in his body, [runs tozvard Spotter 10 ho disappears behind house.] Scrib. [Coining do7on.] Confound his impudence; if he hasn't the greatest amount of cheek I ever saw in all my life. Kate. Ha! ha! ha! Dont be jealous Scrib; old Von Fluff will make no im- pression on me, I assure you. [Spotter peeps from behind house. Scrib. Damn me if I wouldn't like to make an impression on him. Kitty, the fellow will be likely to annoy you,- and if he does, only let me know, and curse me if 1 dont pound him into a jelly. Kate. You need not be afraid Jerry, I'll keep him in his proper place. Scrib. Well if you dont [Discovers S^poi peeping] Curse him there he is a gain [Runs toward Spotter and hits up against Mr. Sanders 7uho enters fi om Jiouse. Sand. Hello! What does all this mean? Are you mad sir? Scrib. Yonr pardon, Mr. Sanders, I hope you're not hurt sir. I assure you it was unintentional. Sand. Come sir, leave this place immediately. \\ hat right have you to carry on so in a gentleman's garden? Kate. Don't be hard on him. Master — I assure you sir, he meant no offense. Sand. It is offense enough, to keep you idleing your time away in the garden here, go in doors Miss, and see if you cannot find better employment. [exit Kate] And you sir, go about your business; that is, if you have any business to go about. Scrib. Undoubtedly, I have sir; and that is just what brought me here. Sand. Well, what is your business? Scrib. [Hands card] My card sir, if you please, [bozvs] Jeremiah Scribbler, Esq., Editor of the "Morning News." [They come doavn stage.] Sand. Well; Mr. Scribbler I persume you know who I am. So be kind enough to state your business. Scrib. [Takes out note book and pencil] Exactly — Well, as you are aware sir, I am a newspaper reporter, and, it having come to my knowledge thit a most daring jobbery was committed 'n your hose, I have taken the liberty of calling upon you, for the purpose of obtaining any information, you will be pleased to give me on the suSject. Sand. Oh, is that all? well what I have to say is this — Scrib. [Eagerly] Yes sir, proceed — perhaps we had better be seated I efore you begin, [sits] Sand. yAside) Confound such impudence, [to him] What I have to say sir will be said in very few words. Are you aware of the fact, that I keep chained, behind the house there, a very savage dog? Scrib. Yes, but they have poisoned him, as I understand, proceed. Sand. Poisoned him! [aside] Perhaps you will have cause to think other- wise before long, {to him] W^ell sir, that dog has a natural hatred for sewing machine agents, lightening rod canvassers — Sciib. Yes, sir; yes sir. Proceed. ACT I. 13 Sand. And newspaper reporters. Scrib. [Starting] Eh! what? How fortunate tliat brute is not alive. Sand, Now sir, do you see that door? [points] Scrib. Yes, so they entered througli that door? Eh? vSand. Well, if you don't immediately make tracks in that direction, you will surely regret that the dog is still alive, and will show you the love he has for a n'^wspaper mm. Here Fido! Fido! [dog harks. Scrib. Oh! dont, for heaven ; sake dont; I will retire, his very bark makes me nervou> [rises] Good day, Mr. Sanders, I hope I haven't annoyed you sir.. Exit. Dog barks as he is going out, he jumps and runs off \^. Sand. Blast the fellows i upudence. I should have thrown him out head foremost. To come around here and annoy me in that manner, when God knows I am troubled enough already. Not only by the loss I have sustained, but to think, that after all, I may be disappointed in my expectations of gaining my nephew's consent to this marriage with Miss Harrington, the lady I have chosen to become his wife. I have discovered the object of Gerald's affections; his love for Martha Coats is no longer a secret; he be- trays it in every action, and breathes it in every word he utter?. Yes, the woman has taken complete possession of his heart; but he may rest assured that I will neuer consent to a union with one so far beneath him. [Spotter comes doiun from behind honse.] Spot. Mr, Sannders. — Sand. Ah! Spotter. — Spot. Hush, how can you be so imprudent, sir? Von Bluff is my name for the present. i Sand. True, true. How r re you progressing, my friend? Spot. Slowly. Who is the chap who has just left here? Sand. .\ party by the name of Scribbler — a newspaper man, and a very impudent fellow. Spot. 'Tis well you gave him no information; it might possibly interfere with my ] lans. Sand. What are your plans? Spot. Well, as yet, I have not decided on any definite course to persue in the matter, but, having weighed the subject thoroughly in my mind, I have come to my own conclusion regarding the robbery. Sand. Any may I ask what conclusion you have come to ? Spot. Certainly; In the first place, the robbery was not committed by any professional burglar, for the simple reason, that other valuables were left un- touched, in the same too '. from whence the jewelry was taken; and second, it being impossible for any one to gain an entrance into this place during the night without being discovered, the robbery must have been committed by one of the inmates of the house. Sand. Why, really sir, you astonish me. I am at a loss to know whom we might suspect. Spot. All I ask of you for the present, is to let your >uspicions rest upon no one, leave the case in my hands sir, and I assure you, I will bring it home to the guilty one, at the proper time. Sand. Well, relying as I do in your ability, I will be governed by your ndvice. But there is another matter, of great importance to me, in which, perhaps, you would be able to render me some assistance. Spot. What is it? Sand. My friend Hairington, of the banking firm of Harrington & Moore, has, as you are no doubt aware, a very lovely daughter; not only beiutiful, but immensely rich. Well, it has been quietly agreed, between her father and I, that she is to become the wife of my nephew, Gerald Gray; unfortun- ately, however, I am very much afraid that we have been calculatin ; without our host, for 1 have discovered that Gerald's affections are entirely centered upon Martha Coats— my dough ter's companion— and, I assure you it would 14 THE TWO LOCKETS. hurt me very much, to see the boy throw himself away in that manner; and so I appeal to vou as a friend, to assist me in spoiling their little game. Spot. It would he, not only improper, but very risky on my part, to inter- fere in this matter, but however, as a friend of yours, I will see what can be done. Now I must leave you, for the present, to avoid suspicion, and at- tend to the business I have on hand. \_Exit into house.] Sand. (^Looking after hiiii) Sly old fox that. Well, my mind is easy now, lor I know that both causes are in good hands. Ah! who is this? My love sick nephew and his fair charmer; I will conceal m) self and take in the situa- tion, {hides behind house. ) [Enter Gerald and Marthayroverty. This letter will explain all. {puts letter on table) Perhaps when I am far away he will forget me, and. asthe husband of Alice Harring- ton, he will bless the day that 1 secured his happiness, at the sacrifice of my own. Farewell, Gerald Gray — my first — my only love farewell. And Eva too poor dear child — 1 know that she will miss me, but, when sht^ learns the truth, she will thank me for her cousin's sake, and say that I was right \exit mirridly L] [Gerald starts and looks around, then places his hands on head and rises. Gerald. Is this a dream? I thought I heard her voice. Bless her she is ever foremost in my memory, and her lovely form is constantly before my eyes. \Secs letter.] Eh! what is this? a letter! and in her own hand- writing, what does it contain? [Music — Gerald eargtrly tears open letter and reads it, utters a loud shriek and drops into chair.] \ Enters hurredly from house Mr. Sanders, Eva, Frank.] Eva. {^KneeUtiou have fallen, [lifting her from chair] Come, cheer up my dar- ling, and forgive me if I have offended you. Your health and happiness is 'ny only anxiety, [coming down] Let the past be forgottf.n — enjoy the present — and the future will take care of itself. Eva. [Pointing to locket around her neck] Father, have you forgotten the past.'' Sand, [aside^ Hang it, she kills me with my own weapon. \^to her'\ I cannot say that I have been altogether forgetful; but, you know Eva, it was my first love, and besides, she was worthy of my affection. Eva. Worthy, or unworthy, Martha Coats carries with her, my hearts warmest affection. I have loved her as a sister, and trusted her as a 18 THE TWO LOCKETS friend; and — although I may never set my eyes on her again. I will ever remember her as the kind, gentle and loving creature that she is. Sand. Perhaps you do not believe her guilty. Eva. I do not. She is too good, too pure, too noble, and would not stoop to such an act. Sand. Then how do you account for the locket having been found con- cealed in her room? That certainly, is sufficient evidence of her guilt. Eva. Puiely circumstantial evidence lather. Could not the locket have been placed there by some one e se ? Sand. 1 see no reason for looking upon it in that light. No one. in this house had any ill feeling against the girl, but, on the contary, she was loved, trusted and respected by all; Who then, by such an act as that, would at- tempt to injure her good name and reputution ? Eva. You kno.v not %ther, we may meet enemies where we least expect to find them; and I fervently believe, and openly declare that Martha Coats is innocent, and heaven, in its own good time, will prove that I am right. Sand. 1 could hope so darling, for your own sake; but the idea is a ridi- culous one, so let us talk no longer on the subject. I will now go in and see it the carriage is ready, a ride will do you good. {Exit R.) Eva. Oh ! Martha, Manha, why do you not come back and assert you in- nocence ? I know that you are not guilty; why not return then, and fling all their suspicions to the winds } {Enter Gerald and Frank L. — Eva rtrns to Gerald.) Eva. Oh ! my dear cousin, [ am so glad you have come, {to Frank) Good morning Mr. Travers. (Frank boios) Any news Gerald .'' Do say something to cheer me, for I assure you 1 am very, very, sad. Gerald. [Leading her do7vn stage] I am sorry for you Eva, but you seek consolation from a poor source, for I am as much afflicted as yourself. Eva. Have you no tidings of Martha } Gerald. 1 have searched every place where I thought it likely to find her, but have met with no success; her whereabouts is unknown to all. Eva. I shudder to think of it, but you know, the night on which she left was very dark, and she may have met with an accident. Gerald. Heaven forbid that any harm "would come to her; but I have no such feais regarding her safety, it is likely that she has left this place for other parts. Frank, [coming down] She may have gone to her brother, who, as I understand, is living in some part of Nevada. Eva. No; for she has often told me that not having heard from her brother in (nany years, she thinks that he is dead. Frank. Well, no doubt you will hear from her soon; but, for the present, it is better that she should remain away. Gerald. And why so pray } Not for her own safety surely, but, perhaps for the sake of those who were base enough to conceal their own guilt, by throwing the suspicion upon the head of a poor and defenseless girl. Frank, [aside] Whas does he mean .'' Can it be possible that he suspects nr.e.? Gerald. I tell you Frank, that Martha Coats is as free from guilt as what you are. [Frank shou's signs of relief] What if the locket 7uas found in her room } She never placed it there; but it was the work ot so.ne scheming villain, whom 1 will endeavor to ferret out, and wreak vengeance upon his head, for the injustice that has been done her. Eva. And I believe as you do. Cousin Gerald, that foul deceit is at the bottom of it all. Frank, [aside] Heaven prevent her from ever knowing the truth, {goes up to piano. ) Eva. {showing locket ) See Gerald, here is the locket which has caused all the trouble. Papa has placed it in my charge. ACT 11. 19 Gerald. I could almost curse it, were it not for the sake of her who wears it. Eva. Have you ever seen the pictures which it contain ? Gerald. No. Eva. Then let me show them to you. {opens locket ani shoTus pictures — Gerald starts) What is the matter ? Gerald. Eva, who's picture is this } Eva This one is my father's picture, and that is and old sweetheart of 'hi;; both taken many years ago. But you seem surprised, what is the cause of It } Gerald. Nothing! I supposed it was Martha's picture; that's all. Eva. Do you think there is any resemblance } Gerald. Yes, a most striking one, did you fail to notice it .? Eva. I have never examined ic closely, hut now that you mention it, I do find a resemblance. How very strange. (Gerald goes to table and sits on chair, thinking ) Frank, {coining down) Miss Eva, if you are not indisposed. I would re- quest that you favor us with one of your delightful songs. Eva. Excuse me Mr. Travers, 1 am not in the proper mood for singing just now. Frank. Perhaps then, you will permit me to accompany you in a walk through the garden. Eva. I must decline sir, as I have promised to go riding with papa, this morning. Frank. Cheated again, am I? {offei-s arui^ Let me escort you to the piano, you can favor us with some music, while you are waiting. Kate appears at door R. Kate. Miss Eva, the carriage is ready, \exit R. 1 E.] Eva. And so am I. \^bows to Frank and exits r] [Frank comes doivn and sits opposite Gerald] Frank. Hang it, Gerald, I don't think I can ever make myself agreeable to that pretty cousin of yours. Gerald. Don t be discouraged Frank. A girl easily won, is not worth the winning. Persever, my boy, and trust to luck in the end. Frank. I have been fusting to luck, in every thing that I have under- taken, for some time past, and, d — m me, if it hasn"t turned dead against me. I tell you what, Gerald; there is only one lady who seems to have a decided fancy for /fie. Would you like to hear her name? Gerald. Yes. Frank. Afisioxinne. Gerald. Ha! ha! ha! I would not wish to see her tied to you, my friend, so you had better get rid of her at once. Frank . How? Gerald. By avoiding places where she is likely to be found. I'll wager that I can name the place of your first meeting with her. Frank. Where? Gerald. At the gambling table. Am T right or wrong? Frank. You are right, Gerald. I have never had a days luck since I turned my first card. But I will change my ways, and, by honest work and industry, try to regain what I have lo.'.t. Gerald. Give me your hand; 1 am glad fo hear you talk in that manner. [shakes hands] This determination will be the first step towards your future prosperity. Frank. I hope so, for God knows, I am deep enough into the mire now. [sighs] Gerald. Cheer up, man; that was your only fault, and was it not your own money that you lost? You have never yet wronged anyone, or committed any act which would bring the blush of shame to your cheek. [ P>ank appears agitated.^ 20 THE TWO LOCKETS. Frank, [asdiel His words are daggers to my heart. [/; happened. He is a dear, good, brave man, and would not have acted like >ou; you old coward, {runs off "S.. 2 E. Scrib. {Looking after her) Well I never — {sits) "A dear, good, brave man." It strikes me, she's in love with her yonng master — Oh! the wretch, she told on herself that time, without knowing it; Well I'll watch her now, being that my suspicions are aroused, {reenter Kitty R. 2. E. hastely; takes letters from pocket ) Kate, {aside Oh! dear I have missed the postman. What will Mr. Trav- ers think of me? Perhaps, Jerry will take the letter to town for me; ai any rate I'll ask hi n. {to him) Scrib, m> dear, will you be likely to pass the postoffice, during the day? Scrib. I am going in that direction, after 1 leave here. Kate. Then take this letter, and mail it for me, wont you? {gives letter intended for Gerald, to Scrib) That's a good fellow. Don't delay now, but post it immediately. {Exit Kate R. 2 E. Scribbler rises and comes foriuard.) Scrib. {reading address on letter) Eh! What's this? "Afr. Gerald Gray, strictly personal.' Ah! indeed, is that your game, my darling? Might haved saved yourself the trouble of writing, being that he is so near to home. Well I'll swear! If that don't beat cock fighting. And giving it to me, to mail for her. I suppose she took it for granted that I would not open it. Well, under ordinary circumstances, of course I would not think of such a thing, but when my feelings are trifled with, in such a manner as this — why I am liable to do almost anything; so here goes, {opens tetter and reads. ) ''Meet me in the gaj'den, beliind the summer house, at dark this evening. Come alone, as I do not wish to be seen speaking with you. I have something to say to you, which I know you tvillbe pleased to hear. Trust me, and be- lieve me to be." Ox\E Who Loves You. So, Miss Briggs, that's your game, is it? {folds letter) Well you will find that Jeremiah Scribbler is not such a fool as you take him to be, and he will surely be on hand, to spoil your little tete-a-tete, {evit c. D ) {Door bell rings violently. Kate enters hurriedly, r] Kate. Goodness me! What's that? One would think that the house was on fire, \looks off \..'\ Heavens above! It is Mr. Sanders, and they are leading him in. Surely he must be seriously hurt. \_Enter Sanders l.. supported by Eva and Charles Coats; Charles has his coat torn, and is covered with dust.'] Kate. Oh! Miss Eva, what has happened? Eva. Don't be alarmed, Kitty, nothing serious I hope. \_ placing him in chair) Kitty, a glass of water please {exit Kate. She reenters immediately with water.] Chas. I hope you have recovered from the shock, sir. It is only a bad fright after all, and could have been a great deal worse. band. Aye, well you may say that, my young friend. It might have been a great deal worse, and would too, no doubt, only for your coolness and •2,i Give praise. bravery in stopping the infuriated animal, at the risk of your own lite me your hand. [/aXv. //;> /^a;^./,] Your courage, sir, is beyond all praise. ir.thnHr"Th ""' 1 ''"'' ^'? "^l ^^^""S- I am too agitated, to express my gratitude. There he stands, the noble preserver of our lives. This is mv daughter, sir. I know not who you are, but your noble conduct proclaims you to be a gentleman, and entitles you to our everlasting friendship. tv, 7' w '^- "^^f ^f^'""'- ^'^^'^^^ "^e ^•'■' words cannot express our hanks. We are indebted to you for the vulue of our lives, which you have this day saved, by your manly heroism. Chas And I am sufficiently repaid by the pleasure which it affords me of being the humble instrument in the hands of Providence, which saved vou both from an untimely death. My conduct, however, is entitled to no praL tor 1 have only performed my duty on this occasion; and I would scorn the man vvho under similar circumstances, would fail to avert a threatened dan- get to his fellow creature. Sand. Hear him, Eva; hear the noble sentiments of this brave youn^r man i.ook at him, my pet, is he not a perfect specimen of nobleness? anda^hand- some, as he is brave? [E.a ^urns aside blusJiing.-\ You do not answer me mv darling; I say, aint he fine young fellow? Eva. If the gentleman was not present, papa, I would venture an me. opinion; but as it is, I trust you will excuse Sand, Well, so I will; but I know what that opinion would be Here Kiity, getabrushanddnstotr the gentleman s clothes; they are all over' mud and dust. ' Chas. No, thank you; I will retire and change my dress. It certainly is not a very attractive costume, jnst now. Eva. Will you allow me, sir, to put a few stitches in the sleeve of vour coat, where it has been torn? ^ Chas. Many thanks. Miss, brt it is scarcely worth the trouble Eva. Oh! no trouble at aM, I assure you. Kitty, run and bring a coat for the gentleman to put on, until his own can be mended, {exit Kate r] Sand. Sit down, young man, sit down, and make yourself at home. [Chas siis^ Eva. bring some glasses, and a bottle of my best wine. [Eva leasure of meeting you soon again, {shakes hand Chas. goes tip and meets Eva, who is standifis;- L. U. E.) Eva. [extending her hand~\ Mr. Coats, I hope you will soon find your sister, and, when you do, say that Eva Sanders sends her love, and longs to see her once again. Chas, God bless you for those words. [Chas. bows aud exits L. u. e. Eva comes down.l Eva. Oh I father what a perfect gentleman; so kind and affable, and, withall, so daring and courageous. Sand. And to think, his sister could be guilty of so base an act, to bring disgrace upon his noble brow . Eva. Oh I father spare her. spare her for your daughter's sake. \_ falls upon his neck'] Sand. I will forgive her, darling, for yarn sake and for his; but she will never darken my door again. Eva. An J why not, father? [Ahisic. Gerald enters R. 2 E.] Sand. A thiet is no companion for my daughter, and Martha Coats has proven herself dishonest. [Gerald staggers back, then recovers hi?nself and, qjiickly comes down stage] Gerald. Sir! — {checking himself] Eva. OhI Gerald, what would you do? Gerald. Nothing, Eva, nothing; God pity me, I must bear it all. [falls into sofa] Sand. Well sir, you seem flurried; has anything happened to annoy you? ACT II. 25 Gerald. I regret, sir, that I must tamely submit to snch an insult, coming, as it does, from the lips of my uncle. Sand. An insult, what do you mean? Gerald. I mean, [rises] that when you couple the name of thief, with that of the lady whom I love and respect; you trample upon my honor, and no one else could do so with impunity. Sand. So you have not yet forgotten her? Gerald. No, nor will I ever forget her, while life remains. Sand. You have heard my warning, and you know the result. Gerald. I heed not what the result may be. I am prepared for '°" '.'''"^."■e for, a swindler.? [ris»] wh^,:ts'g!'v«rt';;t?^'t:';;t"'f;si '""" ''"'°''' °''- '°^' "- "^'^'^ - Sk2n^l^^;^;;-^-;-2x';;^^-----"- «i"t JS" He f sT satll'TuAiT,', ^rvr^'^ '•'"'• >"'" A-^-^' th,^thelocke.,Jpo„w\id;yrriSXm '!;:>''■'"' =">"^ '^^ '-'<" //rLif'^''"'-^" """""^ "^"^"^' -hatmyst'eryisthis.? [...«„„,/,.,,„., the";' the box I'^our^s ""'''' ""' ^° '=>"• '^^"" '''--• ^'-^ money Hrst, and ^./'^l [1/ri ^ili';:uZ^^;r^-..'L- :- -- L n iff^?'"'^ '^'-^''^ ^'"" '" ^"'■"' •'^"•' «•• ^ ^-'"ll ^^trike vou to my feet m which I have reacl about the robbery a Sued l^rank. [/urnssuc/cA'u/y] Come, come, let no one see u. here Go into the garden and I will bring you the money direc'ly '^ Und. Be sure you follow me, or if not, beware! GeriKI Cnv h-M.n «- - [..v//,^/.^/«/-r to Sanders.) It was you who stole from me my mother's locket. Spot. What does she mean? Sand. I suppose she has reference to the locket which was found in her room . Eva. Come, Martha dear, come with me now, won't you? Martha. Yes, yes, I'll go with you, Eva. Perhaps we will find him, eh, darling? and if we do I shall never let him go from me again. Come, don't you hear, my mother calls me. Spot. Is her mother living? Sand. Her mother is dead, but she is forever talking about her. Eva. [crossing over R, 7oith aroufid Martha's loaist.'] Don't you know, my dear, that your poor mother is in heaven. Martha. \_s tops suddenly ■~\ In heaven— my mother in heaven? then she will look down upon me and bless me, and so will Gerald Gray; he is in heaven, too ; they have killed him with his own knife. Eva. \7veeping.] Gracious heavens, what will become of her ? Don't you think, papa, if she could see Gerald that the sight of him would bring back her memory? Sand. I am afraid not; but with Mr. Spotter's consent we might try the experiment. Spot. I certainly will not refuse to bring him here, if you think his pres- ence will do the unfortunate creature any good. Sand. Is Gerald aware of her condition? S} ot. No, and I would advise that he be kept in ignorance as long as possible, because a knowledge of it wo.dd affect him very seriously. Eva. No, no, let him know it at once ; he is strong and can bear the shock, and his presence here may restore her reason. Spot. As you will, miss; I shall have him brought here directly [A' Martha.] Miss Coats, I will bring Gerald Gray back to you. [^^axihii starts suddenly, looks at Spotter, ihen screams and eoiers her faee with her hands.'] Martha. Oh! 'tis he, 'tis he! My God, take him away from me; he will kill me as he has killed Gerald Gray. Take him away, I say; take him away. Murderer! you have killed the idol of my heart. Oh! mother! mother! protect me from this man. \_ falls on Bench L.] Sand. You see, Mr. Spotter, she remembers 'you in connection with Gerald's arrest. Spot. She does; poor girl, her reason is completely overturned. Eva. Calm yourself, my dear Martha; no one will harm you here. Martha. No, no! Gerald will not let them hurt me; I am sure he will not. Oh! I am not Catherine Briggs, Sand. What does she mean by that ? Spot. I will explain. On the night of the murder, and just before Gerald's arrest, Mr. Scribbler and I, found her in the garden wailing to mec t your nephew. Scribbler had a note in his possession, which was evidently writ- ten by Miss Coats and intended for G raid ; but Scril)bler's jealousy led him to believe that the note was written by his sweetheart, Kilty Briggs, and that a secret meeting was to take place between her and ycur nephew. He requested me to be present and witness the occurrence, and, as a friend of yours, I consented to do so. When the woman made her aj:)pearance Scrib- bler, thinking that it was Miss Briggs, attempted to remove her veil, but Gerald, ajipearing at th;it moment, protected her from any further assault. 32 THE TWO LOCKETS. We then found out our mistake and retired. On our way home we discov- ered the body of the murdered man. Sand. So you see, she remembers you in that connection also. Spot. Yes, and as my presence here seems to annoy her, I will retire for the present (takes hat^. I will bring the prisoner here, under my own care, some time during the day. Sand. Do. But I will not see him, Mr. Spotter; I could not bear it; the sight cf him in chains would break my heart. {Covers his face with his hands and exits R. Spot. Poor man; I do indeed pity him. Good morning, Miss Sanders. I hope the lovely patient will soon recover under your tender care. [Eva bows. Exit Spotter L.] Eva. Now Martha, cheer up, my dear; no one is near you but your loving Eva. Martha. \_Looking around.'] Where is he? Where is Gerald Gray? Oh ! take me to him, take me to my own dear Gerald. Eva. Come, Martha; Gerald will soon be here. Martha. Here! here, did you say? No, he will not comeback to me. They will murder him! they will murder him. Eva. [^vcc'ping.'] God help us, Martha. I am afraid you predict the truth. Martha. We will pluck some flowers for his grave; will we not, dear? Gerald loved flowers you know. \^takinar jJoioer from vase.] Here is a sym- bol of dead love; come, let us plant it on his grave. \^goes iip-] Eva. \_going itp. ] God pity her! God pity her! Mariha. \on steps.] Ha! hal ha! ha' They have killed him, but they eannoi kill my love. \_Piits hand to heart and exits into house, folioived by Eva.] [Mnsic. £nter Frank sloioly through CD.] Frank. This place is as quiet as the tomb, and not a sound to break the stillness of the morn. [6"//j-. ] Ah, me. What has become of all the merry laughter that used to greet my ears in former days? and where are the pleasant voices that would welcome me on my return, after a few hours rambling? Hushed, as if the seal of death was placed upon the lips of every one, and a pleasant word were sacrilegious to the sorrowful surroundings of the place. My God ! what have I dor e? Murder! a double murder have I committed; for just as sure as I am sitting here Gerald Gray will hang for my offense. And what then? A disconsolate uncle — a broken-hearted cousin — and an insane lover left to mourn his loss. Heaven pardon me, for my crime is great. I would save Gerald Gray if I could, but nc t at the sacrifice of my own life; he is better prepared to meet his maker than what I am; so let it go; I will live, and repent my crime, and Gerald, I hope, will meet his reward in heaven, {rises. \^ I must leave this place at once, for painful lecoUections of the past is all it has to give me now, and, perhaps, in some tar distant country I will forget my wicked act, and live a pure and better life- [Folds arms and drops head on breast. Enter Ka.te from house R. ] Kate. Why, Mr. Travers. you went out walking this morning, without taking your breakfast. Will I have it prepared for you now? Frank. Thanks, Kitty, but I have no desire ot eating anything just now. Kate. But, lor me, you must certainly take something to eat. How do you expect to live without eating? I do believe you have not taken one solid meal since the night that poor Master Gerald committed that awful murder. [Frank starts.] But I don't believe a word of it; you mark what I say, Mr. Travers; Gerald Gray never did commit that murder, and you know it. Frank, {turns suddenly .] What do you mean? How am I to know whether Gerald Gray committed that murder or not. Kate. Frank Travers, listen to me; the name of the murdered man was Barton Lindsay, was it not? ACT III. •^•"^ Frank. Vcs. What of it? Kate. You gave me a letter addressed to Barton Lindsey, on the morning previous to the murder. Frank. [sia)ting.'\ Meddling fool. What has become of that letter.^ Kate. It is here in my pocket. Frank, [asich-.] Damnation! [to her.] Give me that letter, give it to me immediately. . . Kate. If it is of no importance, Mr. Travers; why not let it remoin in my possession? Frank. But it is important; it is evidence against Gerald Gray. Give me the letter and I will read it tn C) Kate Poor girl, her voice is as sweet as a nightingales; but her heart is dead! dead!! dead!!! {goes L c ) ( hftter Eva andMa.aha. R. Martha is siitging and Eva has her arm around her loaist. Martha rrt'rr/V.r a rose in her hand, from tohich she plueks the leave , and then throws them, one by one, a7oay. They come do7vn C, where M-^x^C^-^ finishes the second verse of the song. Eva is loeeping Kale on steps; at end of verse s^e shakes head and exits R ) Martha, {throwing rose from her) Away! I hale you now. Your passing sweetness has no charms to soothe my aching heart. You would lure me now to love you, and, finding that I loved, would wither soon and die. 'Tis false to say -'a thing of beauty is a joy forever," fo-- I have always found that what I cherish most, will socnest fade away and vanish like a dream. Eva Oh! Martha, Martha, your words pierce my heart. Why don't you cheer up, darling. All will yet be well. Martha. All will be well. Yes, they will bring him back to me, and I •shall never part with him again. Tell me, Eva, where is Gerald Gray ? Where is he, \ say. Bring him back to me. Do not rob me of my love. My heart aches for him, and it soon must break. Oh! why does he not come back to me? Eva. He will come back to you, Martha You will see him soon again. Martha. No, no. They have killed him Murdered him! because he loved me. {Falls oji chair Music.) ( Enter Cage Spotter C D.) Spot, (/t; Eva} Miss Sanders, prepare her for the meeting; the prisoner is now coming, {goes up) Eva. Heaven be praised. Oh! Gerald, Gerald. Martha, {starts) Eh! Who calls Gerald? Eva, It was, I, darling. See, he comes, {music) \^Enter Gerald and iivo guards C. D Gerald is hand-cuffed. Martha sits facing h'm. Eva runs to him and puts arms around his neck J Eva. Oh! Gerald, my own dear cousin; how gla 1 I am to see you. Gerald. Bless you, my darling, bless you. VVhere is she, I'.va? Where is Martha? Eva. [pointing] Look, there she sits, and does not recognize you. Oh! Gerald, her reason is completely gone Gerald. Great heavens! What a fate for her and me. Igocs towards hcr'\ Alas! alas! WHiat is there now in those once glorious eyes but vacancy! 3G THE TWO LOCKETS. Oh! that I had never lived to see this awful day, Martha, my treasure, my delight! Oh! speak to me, recognize me, your own true love, Martha. Martha, wont you speak to me? Martha, [unmoved. What would you ask me do? Love you? No, no. If they knew that I loved they wonld murder you as they have murdered Gerald Gray. Gerald My God ! my God ! What will become of her? Look at me, Martha Don't you know me, love? Only say that you know who I am. Martha. Know you? Yes, yes, I know you; you are Eva's uncle; you are Mr. Sanders. Bat T did not steal the locket, God knows I did not Go ask my mother and she will tell you all. Gerald. Oh, heavens! this is too much for man to bear, {^falls on Eva's neck. ] Eva. Look up, Gerald; be a man, my dear cousin. Your cross is indeed a heavy one, but God will give yon strength to carry it. Eerald, Eva, I could bear it all but for this last blow, that breaks my sinking heart Oh! God.' look down and pity me. Martha. God will pity you. He will pity all of us. Do not weep. Gerald Gray loved you too, perhaps, but he loved me belter. He said I was the idol of his heart, and I believed him; but because he loved me they mur- dered him. They killed him with his own knife. Gerald Martha ! they have not killed me. Martha. See, darling, I am sfnding here before you. Speak to me, speak to your own Gerald, who loves you now more than ever. Martha, {excitedly ] Do not love me! Do not love me, I say, or whisper; \_rises.\ If you love me do not let them hear you say so, or they will murder you; because I am a thief, and unworthy of your honest love. [ Falls back into chair.] Gerald. It is no use; she will not n.cognize me. Eva; how long has she been in this condition? Eva. Ever sin:e the night of your at rest Do you know that her brother is in town? Gerald. Her brother? No. When did he arrive? Eva A few days ago. I saw him once, but at that time I could give him no information regarding her; now that she is here, I wish he would come back. ['$>^oi\.ev, who has beeji up stage talking to guards during scene, nozu io?nes down.'] Spot Pardon me, Miss Sanders, but may I enquire the name of her brother? Eva. Charles Coats. Spot Well, I can inform you that the gentleman is stopping at the Wind- sor House; he is very rich, or reputed to be so at least; and, if you so de- sire, I will inform him of his sister's whereabouts. Eva, Oh! sir; I would be ever so much obliged. Gerald, Well, Mr, Spotter, I am ready to return to my quarters, and then you can see the voung man at once. Good by, Eva; God bless you, my own cousin. Give my love to uncle, and say that I forgive him all. A con- sciousness of my own innocence will strengthen me to bear with patience the trials which I now suffer, and, as there is a just God above us all. He, in His own good time, will, I trust, make all things clear. ^ Eva. I am glad to hear you talk so. Good by, Gerald, and remember, "when the clouds are thickest, the sun still shines behind them." {they embrace] Gerald. But what will become of her? What will become of her, Eva? Alas' I fear she is beyond recovery, Eva. Time works wonders, Gerald, and she may yet regain her senses. Gerald. Oh! that she would. Gladly would I yield up my life to save her from a fate worse, a thousand times worse, than death. [ To Martha] Good by, Martha; good by, thnu shattered idol of my heart. May heaven ACT HI. '^7 restore your reason and let you live to see the day that you will welcome back a faithful lover to your tender heart [/cisscs her\ Martha, \starts\ Bring him that kiss from me, and say to him that I am true and constant still. They will murder me because I love him— let them. I feai not death; for what is life to me since they have robbed me of its every charm? Go, and say to Gerald Gray that 1 will meet him soon, in heaven, perhaps, where parted lovers meet to enjoy enternal bliss. Gerald. Oh! God; how my heart Heeds for her. If she would only recognize me for a moment. Martha! Martha! I am Gerald Gray. Martha, {starting up] It is false. You are not Gerald Gray. They have killed him, and it was his own knife; God! it was his own knife, [coz'ers face and falls back into chair] Gerald. It is useless; she will not recognize me. [to Spot] Come, let us leave this place at once, [going up, stops at door] Farewell, Eva; farewell, my darling. Take care of her for my sike. If you love your cousin, be kind tJ Martha, and nurse her, fjr the love you bear him. ( Exit Gerald, Spot ^nd guards, C. D.] [Eva/a//-f into a chair and weeps] Martha, {risimr) They have gone, but they will not biing him back to me. But I will find him ! yes, I must find him ! Where is Gerald Gray.? Where is Gerald Gray, I say? (7'uns tozoards steps, R ) Eva. ( follozvino- her) Martha! Martha! Where would you go? Martha, {on steps) Come, bring me to Gerald; I will see him! 1 will see him! Do yon hear? Come! come! 1 must find him out. {Exit excitedly info house, folloived by Eva.) {^nter Frank I-. Comes down, looking at watch. ) Frank I have but a few minutes time to catch the stage. I wonder if that blundering maid has got that coat of miner If not, I must make the best of a bad job, and be off without i*; I cannot afford to remain any longer arourd this place; "murder will cut," they say; and I am afraid that, even now suspicicns are aroused against me; so, Frank, my boy, you had better take time by the forelock, or the law will be apt to take you by the throat. {exits into house) ^ ,,..,, i {V.nter hurriedly through C. D. Spotter a;/rf Scribbler.) Scrib. Oh! Mr. Spotter; I am almost out of breath; 1 have been looking all over for you ; but I did not expect tD find you at such a convenient dis- tance from the house. .,.,,, .„ , u . i i Spot Give me the envelope, Mr Scribble;; we will hear what the rascal has to say for himself, {tahes envelope) Now, I hope he has not yet made his escape. You tell me that your employer,^ Mr. Coats, will be here presently, and furnish convincing proof of this man's guilt! , , , , Scrib Yes. sir; I expect him here at any moment; but I do not know what the nature of his evidence will be. In the meantime, what do you pro- pose to do with Gerald Gray? , . , ., n i i Spot. The officers will keep him in their charge until we can thoroughly sift the matter. . , , j 5 Scrib Does he deny having written the address? Soot He vows that no correspondence has ever taken place between him self and Mr Lindsay, and furthermore, that he had never seen the man, or heard of him, before that night, {loohiug off ^.) Some one is coming; let us stand back and see who it is. (they go up the stage) {Enter Sanders rt«^/ Frank, -who carries valise) FranV I regret that I am compelled to la^e my departure from your hospitable roof Your . indness to me, during my short sojourn, I will never forget; but it ^giieves me to think that your househ Id should be dark- ened by the clouds of sorrow which now overhang it , , , Sand I do not think that I will ever survive the shock; my poor heart has beentoi-n asunder by this dreadful occurrence. Take a warning, my young 38 ti;e two lockets friend, from the example which you have before you; never let your temper get beyond control, or it may lead you to commit an act which you would have cause tc repent. (Spotter and Scribbler come dozvn) Spot. Mr. Sanders, I hope you will pardon our intrusion; but we have called on bu lean. Have her brought into the garden immediately. I will 'clire for a while, you can leave the rest to me, and I will accomplish the result. Sand. Well, go at once, for I hear her coming, [exif Chas. c. D/ slo7u mu- sic; enters Martha and Eva R ) Sand. Welcome! My children, welcome! Eva, how fares your gentle patient.? Eva. Much better, I think, father; but her mind is still wandering Sand. It will all be over, soon, I hope. Eva, do not become frightened at anything that you may see or hear; Martha's brother has just left me; he is gone to arrange a surprise which, he thinixs, will restore her reason. Eva. Oh! father what a blessing it would be, it he could only succeed. Sand. Well no doubt, he will; and then, my darling, there is another sur- prise for you, which you will hear of later, (a discharge of musketry behind scene. They all start ) Martha, \clinging toY.v?L\ My God! What is that.? (^Music. Enter Ch.a.s. Coats, JiurriJly c. D He comes dow7i stage, and speaks in. Martha's ear. ) Chas. Gerald Gray has paid the penalty of his crime. His bleeding body, lies upon the publio road. Martha, {starting) Dead! Chas. Shot through the heart! (Martha set earns, staggers and falls into her brother's aims. He leads her over to bench. Quick nnsic durijig scene. Enter C. D. Gerald and Scribbler. Kitty entets R and stands on steps in snf- prise. Scribbler approaches Kitty and explains with gestures. ) Sand, {approaches Gerald) My boy! My boy! Thank God that you are saved to us. Eva. {runs to Qq.x2\A) Oh! Gerald! my own dear Gerald, have you come back to us.? Gerald. Yes, Eva, I have returned, a free man once again I knew that heaven would not let me suffer for a crime which I did not commit. Eva. And Gerald, who did commit the murder.? Sand. Franklin Travers. ^Y^ \ {starting) Great Heavens! Kate and Scrib talk up R. _^,j TUn TWO LOCKETS. Saftd. Gerald, this is Mr. Coats. To him and Mr. Scribbler here, you are indebted for your liberty. , -, .. Gerald. Words cannot express my gratitude, sir. But how is she? How is Martha? Think you, she will soon recover? {kneels ai side of bench) _ Chas. Yes, I have no doubt but she will presently regain consciousness. Tal<.e her, sir, and Le happy. Your sorrows, and her ov/n, are now ended. (He leavesyi2cci\\z. witfiGftxdXA and goes tcp /c^ Sanders. Gerald sits on bench and places Martha's head on his breast) Chas. Mr. Sanders for all your kindness and attention to my dear sister, you have my undying thanks. Sand. It is to you, my dear boy, that we are indebted for all our happiness. Would that I could, in some manner recompense you for it. Chas. I am very wealthy, but there is a jewel, sir, in your keeping, the possession of which, would enrich me ten fold. Sand. Where? Chas. {taking Eva's hatid) Here! I have loved your daughter from the first time I set my eyes upon her, with your consent, and her own, my happiness will be complete. (Eva bashfully turns aside) Sand. You may have my consent, sir, provided you can obtain her own. Chas. Enough. The prize is won, I read my answer in her blushing face. ifoLs Eva to his breast and kisses her) Sand, (/c Gerald) Well, Gerald, how is Martha? How is the dear child now? Gerald. I think she will soon recover. Martha! Martha! open your eyes and look at me, darling. It is I. Gerald Gray, who calls you. {jnusic. Martha opens her eyes, loos aroimd wildly, places her hand to her face, .creams, catches Gerald by the arm, and starts up from bench suddenly) Martha. My God! Is this a dream? Where have 1 been? What has hap- pened to me? Gerald. A dream it surely is darling. Surely you know your own Gerald. Martha. Eh! what? Gerald Gray alive, and before me? Yes, yes. 'Tis he, 'lis he. {runs to Gerald) Gerald. Thank God, thank God, for this. Chas. I knew the shock would restore her. Martha, my long lost sister, come to your brother's arms. Martha. What? My brother? {^looks a:/ Chas.) It is, it is indeed, {rwis to him) Oh! Charles, Charles, where d'd you come from? And Eva too, my own pet {kisses her) Sand. Is there no word for me, Martha? Martha. Ah! Mr. Sanders you believed me guilty, but here is my brother, now and he can tell you all. (Eva goes up to Gerald) I) LSand. Charles, can you ever forgive me for my ingratitude to your dear sister? I have been anything but kind to her. I accused her of the robbery, which I now find was committed by the rascal Travers, and I shall never for- give myself for it. Eva. Yes, this locket which I have around my neck was stolen from us; and the fact, that it was afterwards found in Martha's room, led my father to suspect her. Chas. Well, I know that to be her own property. Sand. You are mistaken, Charles. That locket was in my possession for many years, and is a token of my early love. Chas. Will you permit me to examine it, please? Eva. Certainly, {hands locket to Cho.s. zv ho opens it) Chas. {starting) My mother's pictiare. There is evidently some mistake, Mr. Sanders. This very locket was given to Martha at the death bed of her mother. There is a history connected with, it, which my mother communi- cated to me before her death, and waich my sister is entirely ignorant of. It is a story of love and the cruel separation of the young lovers, and event, which well nigh broke the heart of Martha Douglas ACT III. -11 Sand, {greatly astonished) Martha Douglas! Great Heavens! can it be possible? and you are her son? a son of Martha Douglas? my first, my only love. Yes, yes, I see it now; oh, how blind I was not to have discovered it before. Here, Martha; come to my arms my pet. You are her child! 'J'hank God! thank God for this, {he embraces Martha) Gerald. But what does all this mean? Uncle, I do not understand it. Chas. Nor I. Martha. Now, I understand it all. Eva. And, so do I. {enter Spotter c. d) Spot. Mr. Sanders, what mystery is this? See, here is another locket, which was found in the valise, Ijelonging to Franklin Travers. {sJiows locket^ Sand. The two lockets! Heavens! what a singluar event, \_takes locket from Spotter) Look, Charles, here is the other tocket which, more than thirty years ago, was given me by Martha Douglas, your mother, do you un- derstand it now? Chas. I do! I do indeed. You are the Edwin Sanders of her early love. Sand. I am. Gerald. What a singular and happy development. Sand. Most happy for all. Martha, my dear, can you forgive me now, for the suffering which I have caused yuu to undergo? Martha. Foi'give you? Yes, and forget it too, in the happiness which I now enjoy, \_goes to G^xzXd^ Chas. A share of which belongs to us as well. Does it not, Eva? \ puts aem around her waisf^ Eva. Yes, Charles, I have never known what it was to be real happy, until now. \_lays head on his shoulder'] Gerald, [to Sciib] And what are Mr. Scribbler's feelings upon this occasion? Scrib. [coming doxvn with Kate] What should they be, think you Master Gerald? When Kitty here, has just promised to become Mrs. Jeremiah Scribbler. Kate, [bashfullyi] Scrib, don't mention it before the company. I want that to be kept a secret. Scrib, All right, my dear. Your wishes must be obeyed [they go up stage] Martha. Oh! Gerald, how my hea-t throbs with delight. This is indeed, a bright awaking from a sad, sad, dream. Gerald . Yes, darling, the clouds have passed away, and welcome sunshine now is ours at last. San. May it forever gild your future path through life, and lend its warmth, to keep alive the flame oflove which burns within your hearts, {coming dcncji) Oh! heaven be praised that I should live to see this day, that, after thirty years, redeems our pledge of love, and brings togethei, once again. The Two Lockets. (Eva vnd Chas. L. c. Martha and Gerald r. C. Scrib., Kate arid Spot back. Tableau — Curtain END OF DRAMA. LIBRARY OF CONGRESS ■ « 014 211 905 5 •