Good-night, Mr. Alexander Morton. (Goes to door C., and exit,
pushing out STARBOTTLE, the DUCHESS, and child. MR. OAKHURST sinks
into chair at desk, burying his face in his hands. Re-enter slowly
and embarrassedly, MISS MARY: looks toward OAKHURST, and comes
slowly down stage.)
Miss Mary (aside). I was too hard on him. I was not so hard on
Sandy when I thought that he--he--was the father of her child. And
he's my own flesh and blood, too; and--he's crying. (Aloud.) Mr.
Morton.
Oakhurst (slowly lifting his head). Yes; Miss Mary.
Miss Mary. I spoke hastily just then. I--I--thought--you see--I--
(angrily and passionately) I mean this. I'm a stranger. I don't
understand your Californian ways, and I don't want to. But I
believe you've done what you thought was right, according to a
MAN'S idea of right; and--there's my hand. Take it, take it; for
it's a novelty, Mr. Morton: it's the hand of an honest girl!
Oakhurst (hesitates, then rises, sinks on one knee, and raises MISS
MARY'S fingers to his lips). God bless you, miss! God bless you!
Miss Mary (retreating to centre door). Good-night, good-night
(slowly),--cousin--Alexander. [Exit. Dark stage.
Oakhurst (rising swiftly). No, no: it is false! Ah! She's gone.
Another moment, and I would have told her all. Pshaw! courage,
man! It is only six days more, and you are free, and this year's
shame and agony forever ended.
Pages:
85
86
87
88
89
90
91
92
93
94
95
96
97
98
99
100
101
102
103
104
105
106
107
108
109