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Harte, Bret, 1836-1902

"Two Men of Sandy Bar; a drama"


Miss Mary. Certainly: compose yourself,--my cousin's son,
Alexander Morton. Listen, Sandy, you promised ME, you know, you
said for MY sake you would not touch a drop. (Enter cautiously
toward schoolhouse the DUCHESS, stops on observing SANDY, and hides
behind rock.)
Sandy (still bewildered and incoherent). I reckon. Harkin, miss,
is that thar thing (pointing towards rock where DUCHESS is
concealed)--is that a tree, or--or--a woman? Is it sorter movin'
this way?
Miss Mary (laying her hand on SANDY'S). Recover your senses, for
Heaven's sake, Sandy,--for MY sake! It is only a tree.
Sandy (rising). Then, miss, I've broke my word with ye: I'm drunk.
P'r'aps I'd better be a-goin' (looking round confusedly) till I'm
sober. (Going toward L.)
Miss Mary (seizing his hand). But you'll see me again, Sandy:
you'll come here--before--before--I go?
Sandy. Yes, miss,--before ye go. (Staggers stupidly toward L.
Aside.) Found him! found Alexander Morton! It's a third time,
Sandy, the third time: it means--it means--you're mad! (Laughs
wildly, and exit L.)
Miss Mary (springing to her feet). There is a mystery behind all
this, Mary Morris, that you--you--must discover. That man was NOT
drunk: he HAD NOT broken his promise to me. What does it all mean?
I have it. I will accept the offer of this Alexander Morton. I
will tell him the story of this helpless man, this poor, poor,
reckless Sandy.


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