University of Virginia Library

Scene I.

A Garden on the banks of the Thames, at Fulham, behind the Wynnes' lodgings. Time, evening. Moon and starlight. A light in Winifred Wynne's window, of which the blind is drawn down. A man's voice heard, softly singing from on board a boat moored on the river.
VOICE.
Enter Robert Murdock, peering from behind a tree.
Enter Carteret.

ROBERT MURDOCK.
Hush! he's still there; but going.

CARTERET.
All this while?

ROBERT MURDOCK.
Yes, curse him. I have waited here in hiding,
Not daring to appear; his gloating eyes
Seem to absorb the world, and warn me off it.
At length we're quit of him.

CARTERET.
Yes, he is gone.

ROBERT MURDOCK.
It should be in this ivy, where I pitched it
Hearing her voice.

CARTERET.
Murdock, you baffle me;
You cast six thousand pounds as to the winds
Because you hear her tread; this is the madness
Of fear, not love.

ROBERT MURDOCK.
Come, Carteret, classify
This thing hereafter; help me now to search.
I took good aim; it should have fallen here,
Within these leaves; to think that crack-brained minstrel
Should moor his boat beneath the sycamore
And scare us from our search.

CARTERET.
It is not here.

ROBERT MURDOCK.
Not here?

CARTERET.
No, gone, clean gone.

ROBERT MURDOCK.
Gone where?

CARTERET.
Who knows?—
Not I.

ROBERT MURDOCK.
[Aside.]
I think not. I have watched him closely. [Aloud.]

This is a complication.

CARTERET.
I should think so!
Six thousand pounds—

ROBERT MURDOCK.
Six thousand feathers, man!
They weigh no more with me; but some one may
Have lighted on it, who may make it known,
And so defeat my plan.

CARTERET.
Six thousand pounds!

ROBERT MURDOCK.
Have done with that! You will not fare the worse.
If this gets wind—But that by Heaven it shall not!
I will outdo the wind, by Jove, or turn it!
I want two days, no more. They can't make known
A thing by proclamation here in London.
What are you digging for?

CARTERET.
I was not digging.
What's now to do?

ROBERT MURDOCK.
Well—carry out my purpose;
Get to Festigniog by to-morrow noon,
We two. Then send a wire word from thence
Which fetches her, with tidings that her brother
Is hiding there, and sick; she'll move at that.
Then, even should this paper have been found
By any in the house, and so confuse
The working of my sum, one-half would still
Hold good. I'll give her hospitality
To-morrow night, whether she will or no.
And it shall cost her dear, if dear she hold it
To take the hand I offer her. Her pride
Must drive her to capitulate; this ermine,
So dainty of her whiteness and fair fame,
Will take the plunge that rids it of the stain
Her strange night's lodging will have fixed on it.
I have her fast.

CARTERET.
Murdock, what is your hate,
If this you call your love?

ROBERT MURDOCK.
Still classifying.
My love is such, that I would liefer drown her
Here in the Thames, than she should make the joy
Of that mad singer yonder.

CARTERET.
It has cost you
Six thousand pounds already.

ROBERT MURDOCK.
Come away,
I will not count the cost, and you can not.
My man has got our baggage at the station.

CARTERET.
You've set your father on the trail?

ROBERT MURDOCK.
I told you.

CARTERET.
Wheel within wheel; but are you sure of him?

ROBERT MURDOCK.
He cannot stop, when once you set him rolling.

CARTERET.
Then the bomb bursts on her at ten to-morrow?
I thought I saw it, then.

[Still looking for money.
ROBERT MURDOCK.
'Twas a mirage,
Bred of your impecuniosity.
But come away from this. Farewell, my lady!
Your light will shine elsewhere to-morrow night.
Hush, was not that a sound?

CARTERET.
Yes, on the water.

ROBERT MURDOCK.
Drayton,—and he has seen me. Stand aside. [Carteret hides behind a tree.

Enter Norman, from the boat.

NORMAN.
Who's that in hiding there?
[Seizes him.
You shall not go.
What is your business here?

ROBERT MURDOCK.
Lawful as yours is.

NORMAN.
Murdock?

ROBERT MURDOCK.
[Aside.]
Best satisfy him, he will else
Spoil all. [Aloud.]
I think our business is the same;
It is that light which lures me, Mr. Drayton,
As it lures you.

NORMAN.
Oh, Murdock, pardon me.
I did not know you; and I know you now
In a new character; —you, —love Miss Wynne?

ROBERT MURDOCK.
As you do, with no better hope; we burn
Our wings.

NORMAN.
The stars are too far off, and too
Beneficent; they light, and do not burn.

ROBERT MURDOCK.
Excuse me, there; my wings, I fear, are frail.

NORMAN.
And does she know—your love?

ROBERT MURDOCK.
Not of set speech.
Nor yours? [A pause.]
[Aside.]

I see; he does not answer that.

NORMAN.
Murdock, I am too poor; I could not help
The purpose of her life, and dare not hope
To hinder it. My views must also keep
Me clear of fortune, for if I could grasp it—
As who shall say I might not—wealth for me
Would mean pollution. If my hand could hold out
More than would lay Wynhavod at her feet,
How could I offer at a shrine so pure
A tainted sacrifice? But this to you
Is meaningless.

ROBERT MURDOCK.
A trifle dark, may be
Just from excess of light. But I am off
By train. I came to take my dumb farewell.
[Kisses his hand at the window.
I leave the watch to you.

[Exit Robert Murdock.
NORMAN.
[Alone.]
He says he loves her.
'Twere well for him, for you, my love, no matter.
Who questions what the sunbeams light upon?
The sun is never shamed. But I mistrust
The wolfish face of him. [Exit Norman, singing to himself.
Re-enter Carteret.


CARTERET.
[Groping.]
I thought I saw it,
Here as they stood together. 'Twas this flint.
[Flings it at the stem of a tree. A low whistle from Robert Murdock.
Coming! needs must, it is the Devil drives!

[Exit Carteret.—Norman's voice heard singing, grows fainter and fainter in the distance, as the scene closes.