Outside the Stuart home, may 11, 1864.
“If love were all!”
The parlour of the Stuart home. On the following night.
The prison at Columbus. One hour before midnight, may 22.
“The heart of a soldier.”
The banks of the Aspen river, six months afterward. Late in November.
“Once more we pass along this way; Once more, ’tis where at first we met!”
Scene—A Southern State.
Production under the personal direction of Miss Julia Connelly.
* * * * *
THE SOUTHERN CROSS.
Outside the Stuart home, May, 1864. The large
beautiful lawn of a
typical Southern home. On the left and partly at the back stands the
house, of colonial build, a wide porch running the entire length of
the house, with three broad, low steps leading down to the garden.
Many vines, mostly wisteria, in full bloom, cover the walls and some
climb around the banisters. The porch has four white pillars reaching
to the second story. On the right is a green garden bench, and at the
back may be seen a road leading past the house, a low picket fence
between many trees; box-bushes and shrubs are near the right. It is
near twilight of an afternoon in May. On the right and through the
picket fence a small gate leading to the garden and thence to the
family graveyard. Over the whole scene there is a half look of decay:
the grounds are not in order, the bushes are untrimmed, as though
poverty had come suddenly to its occupants. At rise of curtain Aunt
Marthy, an old negro mammy of the familiar Southern type, is discovered
by the gate leading into the garden; in her hands she holds some roses
and other flowers she has been gathering.
Marthy. ’Clare hit don’t seem natural—it suttenly don’t. Dis hyer place ain’t what it was; look at dat fence and at dem bushes! It’s gittin run down, dat’s what’s the matter; it’s gittin run down.
[Enter Cupid from the gate
at back, leading into the lane.
He is an old negro of about the same age as Marthy.
His clothes are very old and worn, yet there is a
pathetic suggestion of neatness in his ragged dress.
Cupid. Marthy, is you seen dem chullen?
Marthy. Nor I ain’t seen um since lunch. Mars Bev and Miss Fair don suttenly tek dis place since de war brek out. I hear um say dey gwine down to de mill.