University of Virginia Library

SCENE II.

The porch of the Court-house of St. Louis. Norman Maurice about to enter, accompanied by the Widow Pressley and Kate, is detained by Mercer upon the threshold.
Mercer.
A word with you, if you please.

Maurice.
Go in, madam,
And find yourself a seat until I come:
I'll follow soon.

[Widow and child enter.
Mercer.
This case will keep you late,
And we this evening hold a conference,
Touching the course of the debate to-morrow;—
Were it not better you took bed with us,
And, in the mean while, lest your wife grows anxious,
Advise her, by a billet, of your purpose?

Maurice.
Well thought of. I will do so.

[going.
Mercer.
Something farther:
Catesby here tells me—but he comes: here, Catesby.
What's this of Savage?

[Enter Catesby.
Catesby,
[to Maurice.]
You've won the Savage heart.
It seems that Blasinghame misdoubts your courage,
And, as you gave no reference on his challenge,
Inclines to violence; and has bid his lambs
Gather about him to behold the sport.

Maurice.
Ah, sport!

Catesby.
And this in utter scorn of Savage,
Who counsell'd patience till the time is over,
Fix'd by you for your answer. Blasinghame
Growls sullen, and shows Savage a cold shoulder:
'Twas he himself advised that you be watchful.

Maurice.
I thank him, and feel grateful to the Savage.
As for this Blasinghame, he'll have need to growl,
When we have done with him. But farther—Catesby—
Be you convenient, and, when court is over,
Meet us at Mercer's.

Catesby.
I shall stay the trial.

Maurice.
Good. Let us in then.

[Exeunt within.
Enter Blasinghame, Savage, and others.
Blasinghame.
That's enough, Joe Savage.

Savage.
Ay, if it answers.

Blasinghame.
Answers or not, I tell you, still enough.
Your counsel's something quite unlike yourself.

Savage.
And, for that very reason, may be wisdom.

Blasinghame.
Perhaps!—but I'm not used to sudden changes.
I will take farther counsel with myself.

Savage.
Doubtless, to find the way to wise conclusions.
I wash my hands of the business.

Blasinghame.
Pray do so!
But, see you Ferguson?

Savage.
He follows us,
Yonder, with Matthews and the stranger, Warren.

Blasinghame.
Well, if all fails to bring this Maurice down,
That fellow hath a secret.

Savage.
What is it?

Blasinghame.
Why, something that should please you,—quite pacific—
For final overthrow of this man, Maurice;
But let us in. I should be rather anxious,
Having at stake a fortune on this trial.

[Exeunt within.
Enter Ferguson with books and papers, accompanied by Warren.
Warren.
You have it all, sir. At the public meeting
You boldly challenge him with forgery,
Call on me to produce the fatal papers,
And summon Richard Osborne to confirm them.

Ferguson.
We'll crush him at a blow.

Warren.
'Till then, nothing!
The shame must be complete, beyond recovery.
Let him stretch forth his hand to gain the station,
In sight of all, then, in remediless ruin,
Hurl him down headlong.

Ferguson.
You are sure of him—
Your facts—your proofs, your persons?

Warren.
Sure as fate!

Ferguson.
You will not fail us?

Warren.
Would you have me swear?
Have I been wrong'd, and do I hate this Maurice?
Will hate forego the prospect of revenge?
Revenge reject the draught that quenches thirst,
And he who long has dream'd of hidden treasure,
Turn from the golden prize, at last his own?
Not, if the hell that feeds this passion fiercely,
Bestow the needful resolution for it!

Ferguson.
And this man, Osborne?

Warren.
He has had his lesson—
He'll answer when you call him.

Ferguson.
All then is true?

Warren.
As true as need be for a lawyer's purpose,
As for a foe's.

Ferguson.
'Tis very pitiful—
For, though I like him not, this Norman Maurice
Is still a man of wondrous qualities;—
But for this lapse from virtue he had been
Most perfect.

Warren.
It is well he is not perfect,
Or he had put humanity to the blush,
By showing, in rough contrast, to her shame,
The meaner value of the coin she carries.

Ferguson.
I do not like this business, but our need
Will not permit that we discuss its merits;—
We'll see you with the morrow.

Warren.
With the hour,
That hears your accusation!

Ferguson.
Good!

[Exit Ferguson within.
Warren.
Ay, good!
It could not well be better for our purpose.
The mine is sprung, the victim still approaches,
Unconscious, and my hand must fire the train!
But here comes Osborne. I must speak him sternly;
He cannot silence me with womanish scruples,—
He shall not!—Well, our scheme works famously.

Enter Osborne.
Osborne.
Your scheme; not mine!

Warren.
When will your wisdom, Osborne,
Conceive that scheme of mine is scheme of yours,—
Or should be? Now, then, hear our present purpose.
Ferguson brings the charge!

Osborne.
What! you have told it?

Warren.
Only to him; and he will keep it safely,
'Till comes the proper moment for explosion.
When our young senator, in public meeting,
Rises to answer to the public summons,
And take the coveted laurel to his brow,
Then will we loose our thunderbolt, whose bursting
Tears him to atoms.

Osborne.
What am I to do, then?
What wretched part must I play in this business?

Warren.
A minor one, 'tis true, but quite important.
You'll be my echo. When I give the signal,
Confirm my statement and complete our proofs.

Osborne.
Are you not under pledges to his wife,
To yield her up these proofs?

Warren.
Ay, on conditions.

Osborne.
Well!

Warren.
What of that? Another means of vengeance!
See you not that I strike him, through her virtue,
But not the less denounce him to the public.
I'll wheedle her with a promise to my arms,
Then mock the easy confidence that listen'd
To one she dared despise.

Osborne.
Oh, Warren! Warren!
Whither would you carry me—where go yourself?

Warren.
To hell, if need be, so I gain my object!—
Achieve the conquest that to me is heaven,
Comprising, as it must, in equal measure,
At once the joys of passion and of hate!
For you—remember, Osborne—no more scruples!
You are mine—soul, body, thought and feeling, mine—
And these shall ply as still my passions counsel,
Or woe betide the rebel.

Osborne.
Better slay me!

Warren.
Nay, you're not fit to die yet; nor could serve me
Hereafter, half so usefully as now.
At dusk, I keep the meeting with our beauty,
And thence with Matthews to a secret meeting.
Look for me home at midnight; and to-morrow—
Remember! no evasion. Fix'd as fatal,
My will nor brooks dissuasion nor defeat.
[Exit Warren.

Osborne.
Had I the heart to perish, 'twere less pain,
Than bend beneath this scourge and bear this chain.

[Scene closes.