PS 635 Z3'^ll^ .Z9 B114 Copy 1 FLOEET, THE POOn G-IRL. A. DOIMESTIC 1>1?^1lM:jV IIV FOUK A.CTS, FROM THE TALES OF PIERCE EGAN, ESQ., DR. J. FREDERICK BABCOCK ; TH AVHICII AKE AUUKD A description of (he Costumes— llic t'luiiaclcrs— Entrances and Exits- the " Story" antecedent to tJie llay— and ilic wliole of the Stage fJusiness. BANGOR, ME. SAMUKL O. BAILEY, PRINTER, HAMMOND ST. 1874. FLOKET, THE POOR aiRT^. FROM THE TALES OF PIERCE EGAN, ESQ., DR. J. FREDERICK BABCOCK ; TO WHICH ARE ADDKD A. description of the Costumes— the Characters — Entrances and Kxits — the " Story" antecedent to the Play— and the whole of tbo — r~"~" Stage Business. ■ y*in l.] Daddy. \_Iii a lone <\f iuqniry.] Well Hagar, my dusky flower o' the dell, you conunaudcd and I am here? Hagar. ' [Sternly.] You did well to retake that child to- day, for although you saw me not, yet I was close at hand, but has the bonny wild buck become a wolf? Has the eagle changed to a vulture? Has the quiet, wise owl been transformed likewise into the savage kite ? You and the Grannam wei-e shamefully rough in your dealings with that cliild to-day. Daddy. [Cringiug mein.] Hagar, my 'ood-wi' let. I saw the ' bii-d lly away, an' I was eager to catch it before it got away alto- gether, lu my flurry, I was, perhaps, too rough with the chick, pooty little pet. I am wery sorry, my blossom — wery sorry. 'Tvvarn'tmy fault — 'twas my veakness. Hagar. [ Wacing her hand and her aspect of countenance pecti- liarly fierce.] Enough, Daddy. I have a weakness, too, you knoAV. It will not do for your weakness and mine to clash. Lis- ten tome, Daddy, and heedfully too. Daddy. I will, my blooming fox-glove. Hagar. When I brought this child to you I told you your part way you wiieti ^:itistiod that you have act-^d |..\\anl tlv liirl" disowned a^ I \\\<\\ ymi i.i do. I of- fer you two wuy< ot luiyiuf'ar. Thi?. if >oii do :i~ i l>id \oii |A-./■ k,iiir.\ Daddv. [Trembling.] \V-v,-w-w-w-what do you — w — w — w— wan! nic to do? 10 • FL(XRET, OB Hagar. I placed that child in your hands. I shall some day take it from you again : meantime, I expect you to treat it kindly. Daudy. [Sug:/rsfiv('ly.] Make a little lady on it? Hagar. [Impatient ly\ Nothing of the kind. Bring it up how you like; make it do anything to help you live. I care not what; but no blows, no rough words, no pinching, no starving. All the rest I leave to you. Daddy. {Eajerly.) Then you dont vant me to make a lady o' the flower? Hagar. I do not. She has been bred so far in poverty ; let her remain so, but mark me. Daddy, if the Grannam attempts to be cruel to this wild blossom, I will hold you to account and pun- ish you for it. Daddy. O' course, I knows that. I've allers bin punished for the old 'ooinans doin's. I could' nt ask you to stop it by givin' her a scratch vith the pint o' that ere knife o' your'n, in part payment for the kinchin there. 1 could'nt, could I? For! if such a haccident vas to 'appen, 'au the head of the ole bulrush vas to fall, I don't think — mind, I say 1 don't think — I should ask for any more payment for may-blossom there. Hagar. [Laconically. \ We understand each other? [Go- iwj.} Daddy. Veil, if 'avingyer own vay is onderstandin' yer, o' course I does. Hagak. [Taming.'] Very well, then, remember my life hangs upon hers. If her star shoots to the earth, mine will fall too, and I shall perish. But I must live— live to satisfy the yearnings of hate! I must live for revenge — for vengeance ! Do not, therefore, you, Daddy, harm a hair of this child's head, or do one thing to en- danger her life. If you do, the lightning stroke, which cuts down the strong oak as if it were frail reed, will not be swifter than the descent of this knife, guided by my hand, to your body, even though I fall dead in striking the blow. Farewell until we meet again. \_ExU.h at R.] Daddy. [Looking after her.] Vich I cert'ly 'opes vill be never no more — never no m(n-e. Let 'er go — she's like a nettle blossom — werry pooty to the eye ; l)ut she stings yer fingers if yer touches her. Hagar's a' norful 'ooman, a' norful 'ooman. Grannam enter.-; hurriedly from L. Grannam. Hurry up ole man o' all, hurry up. C'loriform dont las" forever. The brat is wakin" up. Come quick. Daddy. I'll come, my Diana. I'm coming, but remember arter this to speak kindly to that kinchin, or Doctor Ashplant [.shaliing his stick Kiijnificuntly at her\ vill be thinkin' yer needs a dose o" vissick, 'an yer does'ent like vissick, do's yer, my Diana? She musn't be licked or knocked about, for she's the werry little article as vould lay herself to soak to death in a mill-pond. Do you understand me, Diana? [Bot/i exit quickly at i..] THE POOR GIUI,. 11 Scene III. A bare and cheerless attic; door on r and l; ttvo or three old' and broken chairs in the room; at back, a table; on it an old broken lookiny ylass and a junk bottle, in which is stuck a piece of lighted candle; near center, back, a icindoio open. IStaye darkened. lEnter at L. Graxnam folloived by Baddij loho carries rather than leads Floret, toho is struggling and crying angrily ; Baddy forces her to sit in a chair.] Grannam. [Harshly.] Now old man o' all, I hope yer satis* fied, now yer got 'er back. She needs a good basting, an' I'll gi' 'eroiie, too, afore long — I'll Daddy. [Going towards her.] Hush, yer lolly-gab old 'oomnw [angrily] or I'll gi' yer a dose o' phissick, you old hag, so look out an' keep yer tongue in out o' the cold. [Goes to Floret who is sobbing upon the back of the chair; sits by her side.] Now do be [coaxinyly] quiet, my primrose, my rose of the walley, my night blooming cereus. If you will stop crying an' be quiet an' good, you shall go down to Asct^t t(j-morrow an' be dressed like a fairy princess. Floret. [Suddenly.] Daddy will you promise [looks at him searchinyly] faithfully — [earnestly] faithfully promise me, that I shall, if I stop with you, dress like a fairy princess ? If you will, why [dryly] I'll— I'll see. Daddy. [Eagerly.] Yes, yes, my little doe of the dell. Promise you faithfully ? o' course I will. I'll promise you any- thing if you'll only be a good an' obejent primrose, and never [hypocritically] run away from poor old Daddy again. [Looking towards Grannatn.] I'll make a lady on her, I vill, my Diana. Grajjnam. [Snainshly.] Your'e growiu' foolish an' sappy old man of all, an' you'll make a fool o' Floret a'fore you're done vith 'er. Daddy, [To Floret.] Vy, booty, you dont know vot you vos running from ven you tried to run away from me. Vy, you run away from a real 'ord [Floret looks at him eagerly] who vos very much took up vith you. Yes, he said you had a' mazing pooty face, and a werry sweet woice, for he heerd you sing vile you vos avoshin' your pooty little feet, an' ven he saw you again he vos goin' to gi' yer some money. Floret. [Impatiently.] I dont want his money; I hate his money; [aside] but I like him ever and ever so much. {Then to Daddy.) Did you hear me Daddy? {Vehemently.) I say I hate his money. Daddy. (Greedily.). But 'ere is a party who could a' put up vith jest as much on it as he vanted to get rid on, they vos all bright new goolden suv'rins as he brought out o' his veskit-pocket. Varnt they, my Diana? {!She yrunt^ as.'>\ iiLiving with lots of little girls and bays. (Joyous exijre--tarts.\ Daddy. [Out of patience.] Come, come, [tihe runs up to him and puts the wreath on his head, points' at him, jumps about, and laughs merrily.) Daddy. [Knuckles on his knees and grinning foolishly.) Six- teen bunches a penuee, sixteen bunches a pennee, sweet laven- dei'S. {^The lureath sliding o^' Itls head. As it does so she catches it and }) laces it upon her own, glancing at hint with a curiously proud triutnphant alr,as If demanding from him an opinion which she disdained to ask.) Daddy. It is a booty, a ra'al silver belled hy'cinth! O, ve shall all on us doat on a stream o' silver, in a goolden boat I see ! an' snowdrop shall sing to us, an' read out o' fairy books, an' cap- tivate a young lord ! Flokkt. {3Iusingly. ) A young lord ? Daddy. {_Gle(^ ully ]) Half a dozen of them, my daffadowndil- ly. Ah ! hall a score o' such as them. Flobet. {Thoughtfully.) No, I should like only one to be mine, mine. Daddy, to be mine only — to love me, and like me, as 1 should love and like him. Daddy. Daddy. All a blowiu' and a growiu' ; softly and fair goes far, my snow-star. Ye must toddle afore ye gallops. You see, my pearl o' daisies, I've kept my promise vitn you. You've got a frock such as vould make a princess go out of her miml if she had to wear it, an' stockings, an' slippers— fairy slippers, like CindereUa's — (coaxingly) Daddy has spent a heap o' goolden suv'rins to buy ail these bootifui things for his voodbine and vild rose flower, an' ven he's been an' gone an done all these wery good an' kind things for her, {anxiously.) she aint a gom' to floor iiiiu by turning sulky, is she? 16 FLORET, OR Floret. (Readily.) Oh, no, no, Daddy. Daddy. 'Cos if little birds vont sing ven they ort to sing they vont captiwate princes and young lords. Floret. (Eagerly.) Oh, I will sing, Daddy, I will, indeed. Indeed I will. (Entreatingly.) But dout let the Grannam come too. {Decisively.) I will never speak to Grannam any more. Daddy. (-Wheectliw/ tone.) The bile makes all on us cross, an' the Grannam' s had the bile wery bad, an' ven ve're cross ve should take phissick. I've given Gi'annam her physic. A wery strong dose — ^An she's better now, she's wery umble an' wery sorry. Floret. I do not care for her sorrow. I will not speak to her any more — and now. Daddy, I will go and get my flowers ready for tomorrow. {Exit n). Daddy. (Going to the window and looking out.) It'll be a bootiful day to-morrow, and the Vite Rose '11 keep her vord. I think I knows vere to plant her to make the most tin in the least time. To-morrow's to do it. To-morrow! I've heerd say that to-morrow's the day as never kim yet! Veil, ve shall soon know. I'll make my Diana tell my fortin' vith the cards 'fore ve an' the rats commence a scrummage for the night. She can see out o' von eye, an' she'll tell me vot's a comin' to me to-morrow. To- morrow! (Hand upon his heart). I dun no, but somehow I feels a load upon my 'art ven I 'eers myself say to-morrow. {Exits atR.) SCESTE TV. Front of stage; Out-door scenery; Enter a croiod of race co^irse people (sioells) including a pool .celling Auc- tioneer and two assistants, one of whom bears a card on a pole. The card is printed in large letters with the names of the horses which are to race, as follows : "Coup de Grace," "The Little Pet," " Lightning," "Tliunder Cloud," "Xoflies," and "Bay Qreenspecs." While the Auctioneer is arranging matters, tlie crowd" is busily engaged in malting outside bets as fol- lows — "Seven to four on the field, bar one!" "Four to one against Coup de Grace !" "Seven to one against The Little Pet." "Done!" "A pony even between Lightning and Thunder Cloud, one to start — Lightning for choice!" "A thousand to twenty against Noflies." "Done !" "I'll pay the odds against the fovorite !" "Six to four against the Bay Greenspecs !" "I'll take you." "Done." "Have it again?" — and so on. Tliis scene must be lively and exciting— money changes hands freely. A little boy is running about ci-ying out — "Cigar lights, only ha'pence each, Gents." Auctioneer. ^Standing on a .'^tool.] Now, gentlemen, if you will give me your attention I will offer you the thing in a legitimate manner. [They crowd about.] As you are all aware, gentlemen, we are obliged to assemble in this out-of-the-way and uncomforta- ble place because of that high-toned morality of the present day which prevents the selling of pools upon the track or within the grounds — a most unjust discrimination, allow me to observe, gents — [Applause.] But that is neither here nor there, for I'm going to start 'em right away. I'll sell 'em any way you like, gentlemen. THE POOR GIKL. 17 How much am I offered fo,r the lirst choice ? There they are — [Points to ca>- d and calls the names over.] There's the "Little Pet" — she's a stayer, gents. In fact they are all bound to win. How much? Start 'em along.- How much for first choice? [High bids are made, the pool is sold, the assistant taking the money and returning written tickets. The urging by the seller and the bids by the crowd are repeated again and again ; the style of pool being varied each time continues sufficiently long to set the next scene. At last a bell is loudly rung l)ehind the scenes, when, with cries and yells of " They're off," " They're off," all exit on the run at k. The performers taking part in this scene should ac- quaint themselves thoroughly with the customs and methods of pool selling. During the selling the Mar(iuis has entered, and gazes upon "them with curiosity, occasionally making a bid, and having it given to him by name. After all exit he remains, with other peo- ple passing and repassing, and wandering listlessly.] Makquis. [^Musinjli/.] Well, what a set of maniacs they are' to be sure. ■. Enter LoBD Nihila-LBUM keated and excited, from u. LoKD N. { Dressed as a fop and using eye-glasses.] By Jove! I'mjoothed glad I've met you, Wethchethtaw. I've been in the confoundeth thate of mind you can conthieve. Of cowath the Marthioneth hatli retawned to the cawaige? Makquis. {_Tartli/.] Of course her ladyship has done no such thing. What do you mean, Nihilalbum ? Her ladyship quitted tlie carriage i your charge ; where is she ? • LoKD N. Thath jetb it. That ith jetht what I can't pothibly underthtand. We tiitwolled down the coath ; I met the Earl of Brackleigh — Mabquis. (Interruptinf/ with jealousy.) The Earl of Brack- leigh, yousay? [£t/;/er/;/.l Well, did Lady VVestchestergo away with him? Lord N. O, no, we only nodded to each other, and I turned to Lady Wethchethtaw to mention a pleasant little matter, and by Jove! I couldn't find her. She had dithappeared, and I could not discovaw a twace of haw. MAiiQUis. [Anijrily.j This is a singular alfair — a most of- fensively unpleasant event. You, Nihilalbum, return to the car- riage, and I will seek elsewhere. I fear she may have been sub- jected to some insult. Lord N. [Goina.] By Jove! I cannot conceal from myself that the wlu)le thing is verwy wemarkable and confoundedly thtwange. [Exitatii.] Makquis. [Stoppiny tivo grooms in Uveri/.] Lady Westchester in promenading the course has by some mischance been separated from her friend. Proceed up and down the course, and should you observe her ladyship alone, conduct her to the carriage; should she not be alone, come and inform me at once of her v. ncieabouts. 18 FLORET, OR [^Grooms making their salutations, exit. Marquis pacing the stage excitedly.} The Earl of Brackleigh. Mutteringly.] The Earl of Brackleigh. [Jealously. ~] His attentions to my wife are iusiiilera- ble. Wife '? She is no wife except in name. I love her to my soul's perdition, but she scorns me and tramples me under her foot. Spurns me and hates me — I, the proudest man in England. I have never dared to lay my hand on her even in pleasantry since the priest pronounced the woi'ds which should have, but did not, made us man and wife. Oh, I am convinced that I am right. [Deter- minedly.] I will not rest until I have discovered the truth or fals- ity of the suspicion which is burning my breast as if a fire were raging there. If my doubts are realized I will not spare him, at least. But I must be calm, calm to all outward appearance. [iJx- itat B.] Scene V. Stage light. Open spot in the midst of woods. A large entrance at back c, oval in shape, composed of branches and vinea interwoven; thronyh this entrance is seen in the far background portions of a race course and the judges' stand, around which are gathered a lot of men gesticulating ea);nestly. Enter Constance and groom simultaneously from opposite di- rections. PeA-COck. [Breathless from running.) My Lo— my Lord Mar- quis fears that your ladysliip has been unable to hud the carriage, and — Constance. O, Peacock! {with a gleam of pleasure) I am glad to find some on« t) conduct me to the carnage. I have been so distressed at not being able to hud it. (Going at c.) {Enter Lord Nihilalbum and Marquis.) Lord N. Oh'j Oh, Lady Wethchethtaw. {Marquis has turned Ms back with a mortified air.) O, upon my honaw, lam delighted to see you again. Constance. Not more delighted than I am, Nihilalbum; (cold- ly ;) you precipitated me into a most unpleasant position. Lord N. Weally, Lady Wethchethtavv, I cannot imagine how we became thepawated. It was the work of a moment. I believe a wude thcountlwelpathed between uth, and the next instant you had dithappeared. Constance. At least you had, my Lord. However, I could hardly have expected that your Lordship would keep your eyes constantly fixed upon me, {addressing Marquis, sarcasm,) but I did expect that Lord Westchester would liave accompanied me, and by his attention have prevented the possibility of my being placed in so unusual, so dangerous, so embrarrassinga predicament. Marquis. {Tundng.) 1 am glad to see {lioarsely) your lady- ship safely back again. Your ladyship's absence {biting sarcasm) has been the source of some anxiety to myself; but perhaps I ought to feel gratified that your ladyship lia-< escaped, in your THE POOR GIBL, 19 wanderings, the insults of low persons, though fortunately com- manding the attentions of an individual with whom your ladyship was formerly on more intimate terras than of late years. Constance. (Curlft her Up acornfully.) I have been subjected to considerable inconvenience by the carelessness, not intentional I admit, of Lord Nihilalbiun {R-y bitterness,) and by your lordship's own indifference. M.'lKQItis. (Grandly.) Indifference, Madam I Constance. {Shruys her shoulders and laughs sarcastically.) Indifference, I said, my Lord, L Floret sings song — introduced behind the scenes.] Lord N. (Looking out at c. | Haw! Haw! Haw! (Uses glasses.) Pothitively the vewy newetht thing afloat — haw! haw! haw ! Weally ! Wethtchethtaw, but she things thweetly. Come here 'ittle vagrant. [Enter Floret, dressed in her best, followed by the Dadby — she is still singing and carries at her left side a basket of flowers. Constance observes her and becomes extremely agitated.] Marquis. Lady Westchester, pray observe yonder extraordi- nary child '' Constance. (Pale — looking in wrong direction.] Wliat child ? Marquis. You are looking in the wrong direction, Lady Westchester. I allude to yonder theatrically dressed girl, who has just been singing with such remarkable taste and sweetness. [Constance displays extreme agitation, but with a mighty effort fastens her eyes upon Floret.] What a singularly pretty child ; quite a little aristocrat among plebians, I declare. Floret. Tendering Constance a boquet. Please accept these flowers, lady. (Constance waves them aside.) O pray take them lady. (Earnestly.) Lord N. Pway acthept the thmall bouquet. Lady Weth- tchehtaw, its a doothed lame eggthample of the flowerth of fuuthy or art ; but then the little cweethaw who ofterths it ith quite unique. Nothing like haw to-day at Athcot, that I've theen, eh, Wethtchethtaw y" Marquis, You are right, Nihilalbuni. The little creature is unique. Do not disdain her little offering, Lady Westchester. Constance takes it and throws it one side, opens her purse, takes out a piece of money and tosses it into Floret's basket. Floret throws her head back,prodly and defiantly picks the money from among the itowers and thro^vs it at Constance' s feet. Marquis. (Aside.} My God! What similiarity in expres- si'>n. (Gazing earnestly at Floret and back to Constance.) Constance. {^Starting.) Why do vou toss back my gift, child ? Floret. [Gazing earnestly and fixedly upon her.] I will not take your money, lady. [Slowly. '\ Marquis. Why will you not taki^ the money of this lady? 20 FLORET, OR Floret. [Hesitatinyly.] I do not know — because I wont, I suppose. Marquis. \_Persistently.] But you must have a reason. Constance. \_ScornfuUi/.\ If you have a reason, child, state it and relieve the solicitude of this gentleman. Floret. [Half proudly, half timidly.] I have one reason. I have seen you — seen you, lady, many, many times. Constance. [Laughs angrily.} Absurd. Marquis. Where have you seen this lady so many times ? Floret. [Gazing wistfully at Constance.] In my dreams, sir, only in my dreams; but then I saw the face of this lady so plain, so very plain, just as I see it now; but still it looked kinder and gentler to me than it did when the lady flung her money at me, it kissed me, and — Lord N. Haw I haw! haw! Weally; I've heard that thethe little peple are taught all kinds of lying thtorieth, but I never came acwoth anything of thith kind befavv. It ith weally pwepothtewouthly new. And though thith lady kithed you many thimeth, eh, httle — a — little — a little Awiel '? [Floret stands si- lently looking upon him with lofty scorn — the Lady laughs re- llevedly.] VVhat, you wont anthaw me "? Haw! ha! ha! I nev- er wath tho amuthed ; thow, little Awiel lookth cwoth upon me — haw! haw.' I thouldn't wondaw now, but if I were to otf aw you a pieth of gold, that you would anthaw me that you had theen me in youaw dweamth, and I had kithed you many timeth, eh? [Tendering her a sovereign.} Floret. [Angrily stamping.] I wont take any money from you! [Daddy writhes.] Lord N". Haw! haw! I thought tho. It ith coming round ath I pwognothticated it would. Lady Wethtchethtaw — aw ! aw ! — why will you not take money fi-om me, aw, little vagwant Awiel ? Floret. [Passionately.] Because I hate you, that's why. Lord N". Haw ! haw ! the witcheth thing pothhible, the vewy witchetht thing afloat — haw ! haw ! And, pway, why do you hate me — aw — aw, little flower elf ? Floret. [Flushed and angered.] Because you are a fool — a foppish, lisping fool. Daddy. [Beyond control.] Vite Rose, my pi-ecious little sprig o' sweet-briar, dontgo a cussin' the svell in that vay; speak pooty to him, my daisy, and he'll chuck you a pound as soon as look atyer. [Turning.] Ascoose the child, sir, my lord, she aint quite used to perlite serciety, sir, my lord: but she's a wery — Constance. Pardon me, my lord, but I'm fatigued by all this nonsense, and if you will give me your arm I will take a turn upon the course. Lord N. Aw — with inlinite playthaw. Lady Wethtchethtaw Marquis. I will attend you, Lady Westchester, if your lady- ship [decidedly] will favor me by granting me a nuinenfs pa- tience. Constance. (Bows assent.) We will await \-oiir conve- nience, my Lord Marquis. [Going.] THE POOR GIRL. 22 Daddy. ]To Lord N., eagerly.] You vont go away, sir, my lord, vithout givin' the little Vite Rose hanisel, vill you? Out o' her proud 'art she vent and chucked that there lady her goold back again, as you seed — chucked von screamin' chance avay. Grive the little sprig o' lilac suthen to remember you by my uoble sportsman. Lord N. [Laughing, draws a handful of silver from his pocket, throws it into FloreVs basket. She casts upon him a glance in which disdain, dislike and contumely are commingled. The Dad- dy shakes his fist at her threateningly. | Lord N. [Picking a hunch from her basket and staring her hard in the face.] Verwy odd, cuwiothly thtwange that I should not have nothithed what a joothed lovely countenanth the little cwethaw hath. What a thplendid guwall she will be in anathaw two or three ye-awth. 1 mutht put my gwoom on to thith old man, who theemth to thpeak the language of llowoth, and learn moaw about the guwall. I pothitively must. [Exit Constance and Lord N. at c io r.] Marquis. [Condescendingly] What is your name, my little maid ? Floret, The Poor Girl ! Marquis. [Passing his hand over his forehead.] The Poor Girl ; I seem to have heard that name before, yet I cannot recol- lect where. The expression is common and 1 suppose it is that which makes it familiar to me. You have another name besides the appellation you have mentioned ? Floret. (Decisively.) I have not, Daddy. [Quickly.] Axept Floret — axejit Floret, my lord, I named her Floweret ven fust ve had her, for she vas as pooty as floweret as ever bloomed on God's 'arth, but my old 'oomau vould cut it short, an' call it Floret. I'm veak vith my old 'ooman, my noble lord, I am, an' in this ere trifle I let her 'ave just her own way. Marquis. But that child is not your own daughter ? She can- not be. Daddy. Very veil, my noble sportsman. [Grinning] I s'pose you know best; but if she isn't a blossom o' my bough, she aint a bud o nobody else's, an' she ain't a going to be. Marquis. {Soliloquizing.) I caiuiot believe it. That child, wretched as her present position is, has no trace, no taint of the plebianin her. Strange— strange, the striking resemblance to Lady Westchester in the face of this remarkably beautiful va- grant? (Starts u-ith suspicion.) () my God ! my God ! Am I mad that such a thought should cross my brain. [L'xit c.| Daddy-. Kavin', aint he Floret? Vel), ve'Il jis lay round ere' till arter the race, ven ve"ll pull the suv rins out o' the swells. [Floret is standing ui o, looking towards l.] Floret. [Jumps about, laughs, claps her hands.] O, here he comes, here he comes, walking real fast and he'll have to go right by here, we'll see if he will pass and not speak to me. [Decisively] I guess not. [Runs towards front.] 22 FLOEBT, OK [Enter Victor hurriedly. ] Victor. Here, I say old man, have you seen the Marquis of Westchester pass this way ? {Floret looks over her shoulder ner- vously.) Da-Ddy. He's just gone this minute my lord, jes gone. {Lays out atfidl length, lights Ids pipe, ayid presently falls asleep.) Victor. [^Quickly.] Oh, all right, all right, I merely wanted to— [Going.'] Floret. [Over her shoulder archly.] Ha — hem! ha — ^hem. Victor. Oh, by jovei there she is. [Goes to her, shakes her hand heartily.] I say, my little girl, do you remember Trentham Wood — The rudeness of an ignorant cub.— A small boquet of flow- ers, and— and — Floret. lEmbarrassed.\ Yes — Yes — Sir — my Lord. I do not know what to call you. I should be very, very sorry to of- fend you. Victor. (Loio tone.) Call me Victor whenever we are alone; {Floret is very joyous, turns her back and rubs her hands and seems hardly able to contain herself. Occasionally glancing at him cun- ningly) because we shall be sure to meet again, but whatever you think best before people. These are garden flowers, those you gave me were wild flowers. I think them quite as pretty as these. I have them still, ( Tries to look into her face. ) And I have thought of you every day. You do not speak. Floret. {Pressing her hands together.) I — I cannot. I do not know what to say. Victor. At least you can sing. I should like to hear you sing that song which you sung, and which sounded so beautifully in Trentham Wood. Sing the second verse — no ; that is, coni- mence at the beginning and sing the whole. Floret. {Quickly.) Would you like to hear me sing ? Victor. O, so very much, {hurriedly) indeed I should. That is why I asked you. {Looking over his .shoulder at the Daddy.) There is a gift for you — for you alone ; make use of it for my sake. (Gives ]ier a package.) Now sing, please. Floret. O, thank you. (Puts it in her bosom. I will trea- sure it forever. ( Sings. ) O, oranges, sweet oranges, Pulpy cheeks that p iep through trees, The crabb'dest churl in all the South Would hardly let a thirsty mouth Gaze at thee and long to taste. Nor grant one golden kiss at last O, oranges, sweet or {Enter Susan Atten, a middle-aged countrywoman, sudderdy from c; runs and grasps Floret wildly by the shoulders, gazing earnestly into her face; then catching her quickly to her bosom kisses her passionately. ) THE POOR OIRL. 23 Susan. It is her — it is her. (Exullinghj) Found! found! God be thanked ! Harry ! — Harry ! Harry ! cwme to nie ; I have found her. Enter Habry, a stout young countryman. Hastens to them with a bewildered air.] Floret. Struggling frightenedly.] Who are you? Let me go ; I dont know you. busAN. O, yes! O, yes! \_Earrrestly.] Indeed, indeed you do. Listen, darling, listen. \_Sings tremulously.] Ye — yet che — cheeks ther — there are, Yet cheeks th — th — there are. Sweet — sweeter — O, good — good — Good God — — [lireaks down.\ Help me, O, help me now. Almighty Father. \Weej)ing, holding her arms out beseachlngly.] Floret. [Racking her brain.] Mamma Atten ! Mamma At- ten! 1 remember you now. O, dear, dear Mamma Atten. [Flings her arms around her neck and sobs joyously.] O, take me with you ; take me with you. Susan. Xever fear, darling, never fear. The queen herself should not take you away from me now. Harry, brother, if you ever cared for me be true to me now. I shall need your heart and your arm to help me. This, Harry, is the Poo — Poor Girl. Your poor sweetheart — Harry. [Turning up his cuffs quickly.] Lord! Lord! Poor Fanny Shelly' s child. She belong to Beachborough, an' to Beach- borough she shall go. [Very decidedly.] I'm darned if she dont. 'Daddy awakes, and with a howl of rage rushes toward Floret.] Harry. [Grasping him by the collar, jerks him violently back.] [ think, [coolly,] I think not, old man ; not muclily. [Daddy foams 'vith rage, struggles and kicks. Victor assists Harry.] [^w^er Hagar Lot at b, gazes at them, and exits at c] Harry. 'Come, now, Susy, you take the Poor Girl and take her away from the coui-se, for we must get out of 'ere, or this old ruf- fian will luive his whole pack upon us presently. But I'll attend to his case — I will, I'm darned if I dont. [Going.] Start quick, Susy, I'll meet you outside. Daddy. [Shrieking frantically .) Vite Rose — Vite Rose, my 3wn Vild Rose, tell 'em I've brought you up as my own babby. Vite Rose, vere are you? Come to poor old Daddy, an' tell these willians I'm yer [Exit Harry and Victor with Daddy at R '6d E. ) Susan. Yes darling we will leave this horrid place and go home to Beachborough. You sliall never, never leave us again. (Floret clings passionately to her neek, kisses her. Exit at l. Enter Hagar Lot and Constance, 24 FLORET, OR Hagak. Fear not, lady. [Ra'ja7' very tastefully dressed in Gipsy costume; is of a very dark complexion.^ I am here to serve you. Yoiir husband is too busily engaged in betting his money upon the races to miss you. Constance. {^Pale and ar/itated.] So I believe; but even though it were otherwise I must and will speak to you, let what will be the consequence ; yea, even though I knew he saw me. Hagab. I see that your strength of mind has lost none of its power. The nursing of a terrible secret sometimes eats into the nerres and destroys them, as a sorrow that cannot be cured preys upon the heart and withers it. Constance. \_Haufjhtily.\ You will remember, Hagar Lot, that your knowledge of my secret extends only to your service in removing for me a child from the custody of one set of persons to that of another; nothing more. Beyond that knowledge you must not seek to advance, and you need not think to work upon my fears by insinuating that you know more than I am convinced you can know. Hagak. I sought not you, lady, I coveted not the possession of your secret. I wished to see you again, net stimulated by any such motives as you fancy would urge me to seek you, but because I fancied that a nature such as yours could not be harder than the black rock against which the sea beats ceaselessly, and not in vain. I ask you no questions, lady. J tender you no suspicions. I tell you in plain language tiiat the Poor Girl is the daughter of Cons- tance Plantagenet ; that I know it ; and if you ask me for proofs I'll tell you that my eyes have furnished me with all the proofs T need. 1 have no design to betray your secret, but I thought that your proud nature, your stern and haughty spirit, had perhaps re- lented, and that you would have pitied the friendless child whom you had compelled to be a friendless outcast, and that you would at least help to save the innocent child from a life of wretched deg- radation ; and I ask you, in kindness to the poor child whom to-day you — Constance. {Impatiently.] Stay I I have listened to you in silence and with patience. Now, understand me — I wish you to listen to me, and to reply simply yes or no. I will pay you what you may demand of me, but you must do what I require of you completely and effectually. Without further explanation let me proceed to speak of that — \arjitated\ of that — that child whom yon successfully carried away from Beachborough, and who — Hagab. My lady, do you know — Constance, [^Sternly. ^ Silence! and listen to me! I have seen this child to-day ; it has started up like a reptile in my path. I must be secured from its occurrence again at any and every sac- rifice. It must never appear before me again. Do you understand me ? I say never ! Hagak. [ II 'tt/i a look of horror.] Am I understand, lady, that the life you gave you wish to take away ? Constance. [Slampiiig angrily.] You are to understand me. THE POOR GIRL. 25 woman, that I wish no harm to the accursed thing. I care not how comfortable and liappy it may become. I should be — I cannot deny — glad — glad — glad it it were dead — yes, dead. { Overcome with emotion, but hastily brushes the tears away.] Happy, most happy,' if it had never been bom. But I wish it no harm — no harm. I would not injure it, no, though it were alone with me, and discovery of its death impossible ; but it must be removed en- tirely out of my sight, quite away from any place where I shall ev- er go, or may chance to go, where my name has ever been heard. It is all I ask. Hagar. [Scornfully, tauntingly.] The task, lady, is not so simple, nor so easy of accomplishment, as you seem to think. It might iiave been this morning, but it is not now. CoxsTANCE. [Eagerly.] What do you mean? Hagak. [Emphatically.} That the Poor Girl is no longer in the same hands she was half an hour ago. Constance. ]Consternation.] Explain. Hagab.] As I came by this spot to join you, lady, I observed a sudden commotion. I looked closer, although I had no intention of stopping at all, but I saw the Pour Girl in the arms of, and clinging to, a young woman. Near to her was old Daddy Windy, with whom the child has lived since I removed her from Beach- borough. He was struggling in the gripe of a powerful young coun- tryman. I waited to see no more, for 1 knew what had happened. Constance. [Tremblingly.] What? Hagab. The young woman to whom the Poor Girl clung was named Susan Atten. She was a friend of that poor murdered girl, Fanny Shelley, who assumed the maternity of that child at the cost of her life and good name, and she believes the child to be hers. By this time she is on her way to Beachborough. Daddy Windy will denounce me in order to set himself free, and if I am captured, lady, I shall be compelled to reveal all. Constance. [Fraiitically.} What is to be done now? Hagab. [Thoughtfully.] There is little to be done at pres- ent. To make any stir now would be fatal to both of us. I must keep out of the way, but I shall learn all that takes place at'Beach- borough. I do not hesitate now to lend myself to your wishes since I am assured that you wish the child no harm, because I think that a girl with no name had better for her own sake, bet- ter for her pride and her soul's sake, be placed where no one can ever know her origin or taunt her with it. Constance. [Agonizing emotion,] Oh! what shall I do? Hagab. Maintain your position proudly and haughtily as usual, lady. Maintain it as if you defied fate to do its worst. No discovery injurious to you can be made for some time. You must be proved guilty to be held so. I should advise you, lady, now to return to the races. If the story about the Poor Girl's being claimed should be told you, you will be prepared for it. But whatever inay happen, do not forget that you are still the Marcldoness of Westchester! 1 26 FI.OJRET, OE Constance, [Intense surprise.] Oh God — she knows my rank. I thought — I thought — thait [Speaking with difficulty,] that — at least — was safe. [Totters as though about to fall. Hagar catches her in her arms, when she swoons. Hagar kneels upon one knee and gives a low whistle.} (Enter quickly— liiPER Leper /rojji E.) Hagae. [ Low quick tone.] Liper Leper, bend down and look well into the features of the haughty lady who lies here! She is the muther of the Poor Girl. END OF THE FIRST ACT. ACrr IL Scene I. Evening. Stage darkened. A well and neatly fin- ished farm house sitting room; at'L a door; on K and L of same a window; on K a door and on B of same a loindoio. Susan Atten, Harry, and Floret, dressed neatly as a young country-maid — discovered sitting around the siqiper table, all eating; on table are lighted lamps. Floret's former dress is hung upon the wall; Floret is happy and tirely; small bed in corner; also a Jlower stand with growing plants and Homers. Harry. [Mouth fall.} I say Susy, this aint altogether veal and ham pie, is it ? Susan. I am sorry, Brother, [Sadly] Your pleasure was so spoiled on yesterday. Harry. {Dropping knij'e and fork with amazement] Spoiled? Susy sister, spoiled ? What dost thee mean, girl? Why, I've never enjoyed myself so niiioh in my life. Dost thee forget how I nipped the dirty old gipsy blade, and he twisted and wiggled like a worm upon a fish-hook ? An' dost thee forget the pace we came down yon roatl to Beachborough, the mare swooping along like a deer with the hounds in full cry at her heels? Spoiled my day, Susy !— why, girl, it M'ould ha' been nothing wi' out all the fun we've hadf What dost {turning to Floret) thee say, little 'uu? thee hain't very unhappy at what's happened], be ye? Fjloret. Oh, hideed 1 am so very, oh, ^^so very, very happy now. Susan. [Placing her hand upon Floret's brow.] You had forgotten Mamma Atten. [Brushes away her tears.] Floret. [Thoughtfully.] Yes, quite, quite forgotten you until you began to sing to me, and then such a strange sensation came over me. It was as if a Hash of lightning had darted across my eyes and bUnded me, and yet at the same time I saw an old church yard, and a green grave beneath a tree ; I seemed to be kneehng by it and a face was close to mine, and it whispered in my ear, saying "God bless poor Godmama Fanny." [Susan bites her lip to conceal her emotion. Harry turns to the viindow, wiping his eyes and cowjhi>iy. \ Then the church yard seemed to go THE POOK GIEL,. 27 away suddenly, and some voice said to me: 'It is Mamma Atten,' it was tlie same face wlaicli, I lemember now, used to hang over me, and liear me pray when I went to bed. O, Mamma Atten ; all that is in my liead about you is confused ; but I remember that you loVed me, and were good to me, tlaat you will not make me a beggar no more. Harry. \_Emphatically striking his fiat upon the table.'] An' thee sliall not, not while I've strength to lift my right hand and earn a jjenny to keep thee. My poor Fannie Shelley — my — my — [Tnes to clear hla throat.] Susan. Not now, brother, not just now, dear Harry, we will talk over these things some other time; now let's set the table away. Harry, [Decidedly.] I'll be darned, Susy, if I ever enjoyed my groob so much in my life. FLiOREt. [Earnestly.] 1 am sure I have ; O ! so much. Susan. [Faintly.] And I hope I have, also. [They rise. Floret and Husan remove the table. Harry lights his pyje.J Harry. Well, Susy, I'll go out and attend to the cattle. [Exit C] Susan. Now, darling, tell me [drawing Floret to her side and kissing her] how you slept last night? Flokf:;t. [Joyfully.] Oh, I have never slept so happily be- fore — never — that I can remember. When I laid my head upon the pillow last night it seemed so soft— so delightfully soft. Then your kind voice was in my ears, and there was no fighting and swearing during the darkness, but all was quiet — so very quiet. Then I dreamecl too, that I was in a large, bright golden palace, and I thought I was standing \^y the side of a lady — a lady like one I saw yesterday at the races — and I thought she parted my hair upon my forehead and kissed me, and spoke so kindly as she said, pointing to all the golden things in the grand room, and the servants all dressed like k)rds: 'These are all yours. Floret, for you are a lady born.' O, was'nt that nice. Mamma Atten ? — Then I opened my eyes softly, for I knew that my dream was gone ; and I was afraid that I was in a dark, dirty, cold room, and still with the Daddy and Grannam ; but no, I was here — here. Mamma Atten, here — with you, never to go away from you imtil I die — and that will be a long, long time to come, will it not? Susan. [Pained.] O, I hope so, darling. [Hugging her close and kissing her affectionately.] I Avill pray that the sad, sad time may be tar off . [Casting her eyes upon the frock.] But I must destroy yonder frock, as I must on no account permit you to ever wear it again; [takes it down and motions as if to rend it in pieces, pauses suddenly] but stay, I will not destroy it, the sight of it, some day, may be of importance to you, for it will remind you that — Floret. You, Mamma Atten, saved me from being always a poor beggar girl — a poor, miserable little beggar-girl. O, no, do not tear it. 28 FLORET, OR Susan. [Rejilacinff it] Now, darling, I must go and do the errand that I told you I had to do, and I beg of you to remain perfectly quiet while I am gone, and not to look out of the win- dows on any account, for perhaps some of those ugly gipsies may be prowling about and recognize you, and after I come back we will go out and take a walk. Floket. O, Mamma Atteu, I will obey you faithfully. Susan. I shall not be gone long, only a moment or two, good bye. [Exits b.] Floret. O, I'm so glad she's gone. [Jumps about— pauses suddenly. ] O, no, I aint, either, for Mamma Atten is so gc 3d to me; but— then — I'm kinder glad, just a little mite — because, be- cause I want to see what Victor gave me at Ascot races, and I have got such a jolly chance now. [Feels in her hosom.\ Oh! my, its gone! [Intense disappointment.] I've lost it. \_Stands thowjhtjully — then suddenly jumpimj about breaks into merry ringing laughter — clasping her hands. No, it aint — no, it aint. Oh I know. [iJuiiS to bed and takes packane from under pillow.'] There it is ! There it is ! [She holds it up, looks at it, kL^ses it and is extravagantly joyous; draws chair to centre of room and carefully opens the paper, in wfiich are Jive golden sovereigns; with a look of intense disappointment, and tears starting, she turns the paper over and over, then, with a violent, angry motion, she throws all upon the floor and leans her head upon the back of the chair and sobs as though heart broken.] [Enter Susan.] Susan. [Taking her hand,] My child (alarmed) what is the matter? What has happened? D(f speak and tell me. Floret. (Passionately.) You take the money, Mamma At- ten, for I will not look at it ; I will not touch it ; I will not use it ; for — for — for his sake — for anybody's. Susan. (Aside.) My task is even yet more serious than I supposed it to be, but I will go through with it. Heaven will give me strength to do my duty by her to her last hour. Floret. (Abruptly.) Mamma Atten, do foreign princesses wear such frocks as tliat blue one with stars ? Susan. (Surprised.) No — O no, only poor little wretched creatures who dance and sing at fairs and races. [Floret rises and gras2Js her tightly by the arm, looking her fiercely in the face, struggling to speak but passion chokes her.] Hush, hush, darling, (^Arm around her neck, drawing her close.) Such words shall never pass my lips again. You do not understand what I meant by what I said, and I will not explain, because it will only make bad worse — at all events it would prolong a painful subject. {Kisses her. Floret brushes the tears away and returns it affec- tionately. ) Floret. (Frankly.) I am naughty at times, Mamma Atten. I must tell you that, and I feel proud to be naughty ; but it is THE POOE GIRL. wrong, 1 suppose, and you will teach me to be always good, wout you? SusAX. Earneatly.) I will try, indeed — indeed, darling, I will try. Floiiet. ( Thoughtfully. ) Yes, I am sure you will ; but do not be cross with me when you want to make me better, because, when Daddy and Grannam were so fierce, and growled and swore at me, I used to make up my mind to drown or starve myself. (Susan's countena)ice expresses pain) And, Mamma Atten, (im- pet'wusly,] if you were to be veiy cross to me I should j^ill my- self. I would do it with a knife, if I could not do it any other way. I — [Susan shudders and puts her hand on Floret's niouth.^ Susan. Great Heaven ! You do not know what you are ut- tering — we will talk about this some other time. I will never be cross with you, dearest, but always reason with you gently and tenderly. Floret. And when I feel naughty — for I do sometimes feel naughty — angry, proud — like an imp of the devil, Grannam used to say — I will tell you. Mamma Atten, and you shall show me what to do, to make me good again. »USAX. Yes, yes, darling, but we will not talk any more about this now, some other time will — Floret. [Persistently.'] But, Mamma Atten, I want to talk to you now — about my mother. [Earnestly. \ Why are you so fond of me? You are Mamma Atten, I know, but you are not my real, true manuna, as your mamma at Beachborough is to you, are you ? Susan. • [Starting. ] But, why do you ask me so strange a question, darling? Floret. [Musingly. \ Because, I have often heard Grannam say, that she was better than a mother to me ; but she was never anything like so tender and so kind to me as you have been ; so if Grannam was better than a mother to me, my mother must have been a horribly dreadful wicked woman I Susan. [Shocked.\ Hush, darling, do not speak in that man- ner. You do not know what you are talking about. Floret. [Earnestly.'] Yes I do; Mamma Atten, you are not my own mamma, are you ? Susan. No, darling, but — Floret. Then my mamma must have been a cruel, wicked creature. She must have sold me to Daddy, because she would not work for me, and keep me until I could work for and keep myself. Susan. [Quickly.] You cannot, my dear child, judge of things you know nothing about. Darling, I will tell you, very briefly, something of your early life. Fannie Shelley, who was the foster sister and maid servant of a young lady by the name of (/ons- tance Plantaganet, brought you to Beachborough when you was but a few weeks old. Bound by some promise, which she regarded as of 8Q FLORET, OR the utmost solemnity, she refused to reveal your parentage, even to my poor brother Harry, who was her lover, and who, in a mume:it of jealous frenzy taxed her with being your — your — mother — poor, poor girl — unable to bear all that was heaped upon her fair fame, she lost her reason, and fled. Articles of her wearing apparrel were found soon after in the river, and quickly after a body which, althougli past recognition, was identihed and buried as her. My brother, Harry, believing in her when too late, and nearly wild with remorse, brought you to me, intending to rear you as his own — lipping thereby to make all the atonement in his power. — At the age of four you were stolen from us, and although we have searched unceasingly ever since after you, yet unavailingly until yesterday, when poor Fannie Shelley's song, as sung by you, burst upon my ears, and I knew that you were found, found, thank God, never, never, to leave us again. But let us talk of something else now, darling — Flouet. Not yet, dear Mamma Atten. I want to say more about my mother. I have often, often thought of her, and have wondered why I had no mamma, like otber little girls; but 1 sup- posed it was because I was poor and ragged. I could not bear to speak to Daddy or Grannam about her, for I thought they would call her names, and then, if they had, I should have cursed them and spat .at them. Susan. [Hurriedly.] Floret, darling, what are you saying? Floret. \ Eyes glittering.] I hated Grannam, and I often cursed her ; but she was not my mother — she was not so bad — I feel now that I hate my mother; shall I not curse Susan, lliursting into tears.] O, my child, iny child, you will break my heart. [Liper Leper is seen X}eering in at win- dow. Floret. {Throwinf/ her arms around Susan's neck.] O, what have I done. Mamma Atten — O, do forgive me — forgive me — fo.- give me — audi never will be naughty again. [Sobs wildly.] Susan. [Tenderly.] God bless you, my child. lam not an- gry with you, but I could not help feeling bad, for — well, well, [brushing the fears away.] never mind now — [cheerfully] come Floret let us go out a little while. You would like to take a walk would'nt j'ou? [Liper Leper climbs quickly through loindow and goes to Flo- ret. Susan screams for help and catches Floret in her arms.] Floret. O, Liper, you here ? {Going towards him with out- stretched hand.) I am so glad that vou have not forgotten poor Floret. Liper. (Taking her hand.) Forgotten you, Fl-ret? {Re- proachfully.) Forgotten you? SxTSAN. {Frightenedly.) You shall not sjjeak to her. Go aw.iy. Go, I tell you, or I will scr tm for help. Liper. [LiQW musical torn.) .Tue, White Rose will trust the THii POOR CJlKL. iil briar which has sliielded and protected lier from the storm many a time. (To Floret.) Speak for yourself , lily of the dell. Your own heart and my deeds will speak for me. silver daisy. Flouet. {Quickly. ) It is Liper Leper, Mamma Atten. He was always kind and good to me. I will trust him, Mamma, though all the world said I ought not. [E.ctends her hand to him ■which hetakex and kifises — retuln.s it. Lii'ER. I am used to son-ow, but it has been sad for me since we parted, Floret, yet 1 rejoiced when I heard you were taken away from Daddy Windy, for I wished to see you happy ; and though I know that the stars are now, and for a time, against you, yet I will do all I can, as I have done, to ward off the blow which is hovering over you and is intended to lay you low. SusAX. f Angrily, j Oease this cant to such a child as this and go away, or — Floret. [Earnestly.] Do not speak harshly to Liper. I would trust myself with him anywhere, for he would never suf- fer anyone to hurt me, would you Liper? Liper. [Tenderly.] I would jiot, pearl drop. [To Susan,] Listen ! Floret is the child of nobody. Daddy Windy has as strong a claim to her as you who took her from him at the races. Hagar Lot a better than both. Perhaps s..e is better witli those who*)-et have possession of her. But let them look to her, and keep her close. Daddy has circled round her like a hawk; even now he is in this very vicinity, and he will, if you are not more cunning and cautious, swoop down on the dovelet at last. Flo- ret's star is pale, sickly, cloudy — the signs betoken peril to her; but there is one star which, still bright, watches over her — that is my own. What it may yet prove I am not able to tell ; but I will watch over her and guard her from harm so long as 1 have the power. I will depart, for 1 came only to warn you. [Going out as he came — turning.] Floret, when you want my help you will find me near you I Good bye. Good bye. [Kciis quickly,] Fi.oRET. O yes, good, kind, friend. I will trust you , for I know you will watch over me and protect me. [.S'u.san is nervous- ly watchin'f Liper in the distance.} Susan. (Aside.) I dont quite like the leaks of that gipsy fellow, ril just follow him a little ways and watch him. (To Floret.) ril be right back. Floret. I'm only going a short dis- tance, not fairly out of your sight. You won't be afraid, will you ".' {Exit at L.) Floret. (Sils down and picks floxocrs— forms tliem into abo- quet.) O no, ril not be afraid, for Liper is nearby. O, he's so good and kind. I wish he wasn't a gipsy — [looking at hoquet.) There now, that's kinder pretty — yes, but that scarlet tlower would look better here. (Alters it.) There, that's better, but its not so pretty aUiosegay as i could wish. [The Daddy is seen creep- ing cautiously through the window vji.th a, bag hi his hand, and says aside, ' 'Ere^sai)urty blossom all a blowin^ and a growin. Iknowed Liper Leper would find her, and Vve bin liis shadder, I 'ai)e."] FLOEKT, OK But yet, if Victor were here I would give it to him, and tell him that I would have made it much prettier if I could. Victor is such a pretty name — Victor I Lord Victor ! How grand and beau- tiful it sounds. Ah! I'm sure he did not [Hagar stands at win- dow peering in] mean to scorn me when he gave me that money, I am sure he did not; and when I see him again I shall say to him — [The Daddy has crept up silently, and, vnth a triumphant, dia- bolical expression, suddenly throios a sack over her head, bearing her to the floor. She utters a suppressed shriek and lays lifeless.] Daddy. [Triumphantly.'] I've got yer again, my vite thorn. Sixteen bunches a pennee ! Sweet lavenders ! Sixteen bunches a pennee ! [Pours liquid upon a cloth and holds it to her face. ] Ah ! I'd like to see the devil himself take you from me again.] THi: POOR GIRL. 33 ACT III. THREE YEARS LATEE. Scene I. Wild out door scenery. The Gipsy King, an oil man of seventy years, is discovered seated upon a high grassy knoll; near him stands Hagar Lot; gathered around them are men, women and children of the tribe. Liper Leper is discover ed in the background. Hauar. (Pointing.) ^le is here. O, Tawny Pciiice! In his; hand he holds the Whitj Ro.e. [Sider TxuDY leading ¥u)RKr. drejsed in accordance with her age and position, to whose hand Ida is clinging.] Daddy. lAside.'] Elcia, of Castile, Hagar's old ancient un- cle. I see's the game! <^), but — O, but — [^puts his dagger secret- ly up his sleeve.} Great Tawny Prince, I, Daddy Windy, Maun- (ler and Patrico. am here I 1 bring vith me the Vite Rose ; my Vite Rose, mine — mine — only mine, as I shall prove to you, veu- ever you shall magnanimously gi' me the chance o' doin' it. KiWg. Vlch is the Vite Rose? Daddy. [Leading Floret to him.'} Behold the VikI Yite Rose I [An eager whisper runs through the asseinhly and every eye is J listened on her. j Kixfi. Who's t'otlier? Daddy. I found her along vith the Vite Rose, an' I let 'er come vith us, acos the Vite Kose vished it. KiX(i. She is a liouse-dweller? Daddy. In her nat'ial state, cert'ny. Kix(i. Born sucli — bied such — desires to die such ? Daddy'. Ainta doubt on't. I knows nothin' about 'er 'cept vot I've told you. Kixcf . (harshly. ) You ha\e done wrong to bring her here : she nuist be driven away I Daddy. (Grinning.) A'ith all my 'art. Floret. (Hastily starting Jorward.) No I no! no! Daddy. (Angrily.) Be silent, Vite Eose ! Dont say a vord, e'cept vot I bids you if you voulJn't have fr. sh grass growin' and a blowin' o\er yer'ead ven the stars peep out. [Turning.} I dont vant to keep her; she aint no use to me. She's followed me 'ome 'ere like a strange cur, and I ilont want U) gi' 'er 'ouse room. IviXG. [ConinHindingly.\ Drive her forth ! (JipsiES. l^lll shouting and advancing tov.ard Ida threatening- ly.] Yes, drive her forth. , 34 FLORET, OK Ida. ( With a cry of fright runs to Floret and throws her arms around her.) Do not let these horrible people drive me away from you. (Tones of distress.) Daddy. {Grasping Ida, and with ahrxipt violence tears her rudely from Floret, hurling her back, thoi gra-sps FloreVs wrist.) Go away ! Be off with yoii ! Go ! (A loud hocAfrom the Gipsies, andthey again advance upon Ida, Floret quickly wrenches her wrist from Baddy and rushes im- petuously through the crowd to Ida, when, catching Ida around the waist with one arm, she draws herself proudly up.] Floret. She 67;«?i remain with me, (haughtily) or we will quit this hateful place together. Daddy. [SnarUngly.} No! — no I You dont quit no place vithout me. (Makes an attempA to sieze her.) Floret, (i^uickly drains a dagger.) Stay where you are; (pa.H- aionately) this blade has, too, a poisoned point. (Daddy cowers.) Liper lieper gave it to me, and told me that it was venom-dipped ; he would not have said that falsely to me. Do not move a step nearer to me, or you, who have threatened me ypitli death, shall receive yours at my hands. You are driving me mad. I will go with you no more. I will die first. You shall not drivo this poor bruised girl from me. We will remain together, or we will die together. A scratch — a touch — is death. Aha — aha. You — you — ^you Iiaye told me that. Ida. (Piteously.) Do not let them separate us. Floret. I do not fear to die, but do not let us be parted, unless by death. ^Floret presses her to her bosom, but with eyes iniensely*, fastened upon the Daddy — Liper Leper comes softly behind her. j LiPKB. iSoftly.} Floret. Floret. \ Turning like lightning.] Liper Leper. {Sur- prise. ] Daddy. ^Nervously.] Liper Lepei'. Liper. A few words now ; a conference anon. Your friend must depart hence ; even, as for a time, you must remain here. You will trust her with me? I will treat her as gently and as respectfully as I would — even you. J'ersuade her to leave you, and quickly, too. If ever you placed faith in m.-, Floret, you may now. Floret. (Kisses her.) Uo with him, dear Ida. You will be far safer with him than with me. Ida. {Earnestly.) Shall we be reunited ? Liper. {Emphatically.) You shall. (Ida throws her arms around Floret's neck and kisses her passionately— thtn giving her hand to Liper they exit at L. ] Hagar. [Takes Floret's hand.] (Jome with me and fear not. (Stands before the King.] King. (Gently.) You are the V'ild Vile Roie? Speak. Dont be afeard, child. Answer me. Floret, I have been so called by tlie Daddy Kino. You know the Daddv'.' THE rOOP. GIKL. 35. Floret. I do. King. And you knows this young 'ooinan, too? {Pomiimj to Hag or. Flobet. (llesitalhvjly.) I have seen her before to-day. KiNU. Werry good. Werry good. {To Ilayar and Daddy.) You both on you claims her? HAGAii. 1 do, unhesitatingly. The Daddy has no claim to her whatever. If he has, let hiui prove it now. If he does so to your satisfaction, O, Tawney Prince, I will resign her to him without a murmur, and never more seek to disturb him in his right to detain her in his custody. Daduv. {Quicerini/ jaw.s.) She is mine — mine — mine. Kino. Speak, Hagar. Haoar. (Erect befure hUn with folded anna.) There is a law O, Tawney Prince, in force among our people, which gives to her charge solely the child whom she may have received from those who disdain or fear to acknowledge it as there own to the world. Kino. That is so. Hagar. This girl — the nameless, the homeless, the outcast — {Floret weeping] was consigned to me by the only being living who liad the power of doing so. I took the bird from the nest, and upon myself the responsibility of its support ; I dare nor bring it to the tribe for suspicion would have fallen upon them, so I placed her with the Daddy, warning him that 1 should claim her fiom him some day. Accepting a sum of money, he consented to receive her on my conditions. Years passed away, and the time arrived when it be- came necessary that I should claim her. I did so. The Daddy, violating his agreement, refused to restore her to me — he even threatened me with a scratch of a poisoned knife if I attempted to take her away from him. I was compelled to resort to strtagem to regain her, and, having succeeded, 1 placed hei where she became the mistress of book-lore and those accomplishments whicli lady house-dwellers delight in. For three years she has been in this institution ol learning, but because of ill treatment she and her companion here tied, and this very day has again fallen into the Daddy's way; lie has again seized her. and 1 demand her f rem him, liaving alone thai claim to her which our laws sustain and which our people respect. King. What answer can you make to Hagar? Dacdy. Great Tawny Prince, {cringing tone,] Hagar, the Cas- lilian, is a vondertul 'oomau! she knows the stars veil; she — King. iSnappishlg.j Do speak out like a man, athoutfear or favor, and not go beatin' about the bush like a robin. Daddy. Veil, then, I owns as Hagar brought to rae the Vite Rose, bb* axed me to bring it up, and to keep it; I kep' it for years, and yen it vas taken from me she neither claimed it nor took ii away — it vas someone else, at Ascot races three years ago ; an' yen sh« came to me for it it vas arter I had stolen it avay again lor myself, ^'en it vas captured from me her claim vent avay vith it, aik yen I stole it back the gal vas my property, an' Hagar can't 36 FLORET, OB apply to our laws an' show me vone vicli gives her a ouuce claim to the Vite Rose ; if she can, then I'm done an' I'll be dumb. But, Taw- ny Prince, there's a heap o' money a hangin' to this bloomin' flow- er, vich vill be mine venever I restores her to her family, as I shall do some day ven they vants her 'orae again wery bad; so ven I gets the goold I speak on through this 'ere little vite-'eart cherry blossom, I shall diwide the whole on' t atween the lot on you. [A murmur uf approval from all.'\ Hagak. He has already made a considerable sum of money by the beauty of the Poor Girl, when he compelled her to sell flowers, a poor, ragged, bare-legged creature. Daduy. Dressed as a forrin princess, regardless of expense, vaut you, Vite Rose? Didn't you caj^tivate the 'eart of a young lord ven you vore a sky-blue, star-spotted little gownd, sich as fairies dances in on moonlight nights, an' a wreath of roses upon your snowy brow. \^Floret turns away, weeping bitterly.^ Hagab. \_Wa\;lug her hand impatiently. Tlxis is idle talk; but let us end it. I stand here, O, Tawny Prince, upon my right. I know this disowned girl's friends — he does not; he never can make a market of her secret — he never shall. I can restore her to them — I may. If I do it will be without asking — without accept- ting — nay, by refusing any recompense. Give her to him, you doom her to some years of shame, of mental agony, to ruin — nay, to utter destruction ;*restore her to my charge, and, at least, she shall have her happiness and her honor to her own keeping — Daddy. (Excitedly.) Out-talk my right if you can, Hagar 'ooman. I stole the Vite Rose ven she vos no longer yourn, Ha- gar 'ooman, to control, an' she belongs to me, by the unchange- able laws o' our community. KiXG. Silence, all I I have heard both sides ; tiagui- forfeited, I think, all right to further control over the destiny of the Vite Rose, ven she, as she has acknowledged, placed her to gain learn- in' vith house-dwellers. Dai>dv. \ Exultingly.] A. course, a course. King. Silence I An' 1 thinks that the Patrico 'stablisbed a new an' indispootable claim to her when he kidnap^jed the Vite Rose on his own account. Daddy. [As before.) A course. King. Silencel Come nearer to me, Vite Rose. Now, Vite Rose, you must answer my questions, an' answer 'em truly. — Dont be afeared to speak (jut. A good deal o' your own comfort vill depend upon vot you say yourself. Do you know who you are ? [Liper Leper enters and stands where Floret can easily observe him.] FliIIKT. (Faintly.} i do not, King. But aiut you got no idee; aint you got no clue, no nothiu" to prove M'h(j youai'e someday"? {Floret shakes her head !-orrowJitlly.) That's rather odd. I've set^n an' knowed a good deal about kidnapped kinchtMis, an' they've generally hat! a mark, THE POOK GIRL. •:»< a strorberriee, or a mouse, or a heervig, or a lobster, or sumfin about 'em o' tliatkind. Aint you got nothin' o' that sort? .Floret. (Faintly.) Nothing! King. [Looting at Hagar and Daddy.] As both on you claim 'er, I s'pose that von or 'totlier on you, or both it may be, have got a token vich the family o' the Vite Eose vill recognize ven they sees it? [Hayar i-emains silent — Lijier Leper earneitly gesticulates to Floret to make hare her arm.\ This is a little orkurd, for since you have nothin' in the vay of a token by which you may be recognizet.1 by any von who might put in a better claim than either Hagar or the Patrico, I must yield you to the Daddy, who owns you by capture. Flokkt. \Suddenl7j lays bare her arm upon which is seen a typhon-sluipiil ntark. !S,'ie holds it before the Kimj's eyes.] Be- hold this symbol ! By it I may be known. 1 am El Ydaiourl King. [Springs to hisjeet trernhling ivith excitement.] Listen, all I The 'nigma is read ; the stars speak. The claims of Hagar, the Castilian, and the Patrico are swep' away like thistle-down afore the vind. Look upon the Vite Rose as the Vite Rose no more. — 8he is El Ydaiour, The Wanderer I GriPsiKS. (All vnth wonder.) El Ydaiour, the Wanderer! King. (Waoes his hand for silence.) The child is from the land of the friendless, from the roofless shed of the fatherless,the motherless, the kiuless. She has no roof-tree but the sky; no bed but the green, grassy turf. iShe has no tribe among nations. As a human being, she has no rights — save one that is sacred to her, and to be sacredly observed by us — her right is Hospitality ! (.^In approving shout is uttered by the Gipsies.) From this moment El Ydaiour is free to us, free with us, free from us, her claim overrules all others ; she commands from us shelter and suste- nance, help in her distress, assistance of the strong arm when she needs it, and she must have it. Gipsies. (All.) She shall have it. King. The symbol on her wrist is a token to which we all bow — it is one to whic:h Hagar, the Castilian, and the Patrico must bend. Gipsies. [Sternly all. 1 They must. King. El Ydaiour! Fear no more ; every man here is your protector; every woman your servant and your friend while you remain among us. You may eat, drink,sleep and depart in peace, and ven yon goes your vay, neither Hagar nor the Partrico dares to follow you, or touch you, if you desire it not. If they do, they will incur the Gipsies' curse; eyes will flash at 'em, tongues hoot at an' scorn 'em — they will be hunted and harried, lashed and stoned, flogged and briered, and at the last hour of their life no sun shall vatch 'em die, no sun shall see 'em live; but they shall hang and rot, bit by bit, day by day, year by year, from the deadly vite branches of a vithered, blight-smitten tree, the gipsies' curse clinging to 'em so long as vone bone of their frail carcases is left to the eye of man. 1 have spoken. El Ydaiour, move vere you vill. Break up, ail. 38 f^LOEKX, OK [All but the following characters exit. Hacjar and the Daddy make a movement toward Floret, who (jives an alarmed look at Li- per; he quickly places himaelf at her side. The Baddy is immedi- ately seized by two men. | Gipsy. Vere's the poisoned knife? Give it to me. [Daddy mechanically hands it to him.\ LiPEK. You liave uo cause f oi fear, Floret ; you are now more powei-f ul tlian tlie King liimself. Hagab. [Bitterly.} Ay! more powerful than I who holds your happiness in my keeping. 1 thought not, when I marked that symbol on your wrist so that I alone might know you when a woman grown, that it would rob me wholly of the power of injur- ing or of serving you. [Showimj her teeth in rancor.] liut you are also absolved from his power; you have drawn his fangs, his claws; his sordid avarice can never again reach you, his devilish malignity harm you. He has threatened you witii death from a poisoned weapon — he dare not from this moment touch you, even in play, with a feather. He may not even speak to you unless you will it — mark me — unless it be with your will and at your wish. And this privilege extends to me as to him ; if it is yoiu- wish to me I will speak to you alone — 1 will lift the seals from my lips ; I will tell you who you are and what you are; 1 will at once dis- close to you all I know concerning your secret history, and then — bid you farewell for ver. Floket. O, I desire most earnestly to learn all I can of my true liistory. I will speak with you alone now — at this moment — and I entreat you to keep nothing hid from me. Hagak [!:iternly.] Are you prepared to listen to that which you may hereafter wish, from the depths of a broken heart, had never fallen upon your ears ? Floret. [Quickly.] 1 am prepared for every consequence. No anguish, no torture, can equal that which my absolute igno- rance of who and what I am inflicts upon my heart. Hagar. jWavinij her hand.] Leave us, then; we would be alone. [Men, with Daddy, ginng. Daddy. [Slrajgliny fearfully, stretching out his arms and hoarsely crying.] Vite Rose — Vi — \^ite Rose! dont leave me — dont go away witli Hagar, dont — you vill rob me — of all — of all — all my — goold — my goold — [The words du- away in his throat, and his head rolls horribly J rom ■s/'i<.' to sldti. He/alls forward in- Xo their arms in a Jit. 2'hey exit,Jollowed by Liper Liper.] HA.GAR. We will rest here. What 1 have to reveal, and you to hear, may now be spoken unreservedly. Floret Be it as you think best. 1 am in your hands, and 1 have no choice. I am silent, Hagar. Listen, child, and 1 will give you an illustration. Years past, a young Count of .Spain, riding tlu'oiigb a wood, w as shot by an luiseen hand; a young girl not older ban yourself. THE POOa OIRL. 39 heard the shot and the wild cry of agony which burst from the lips of the wounded man, and she hastened to the spot from which the shriek of agony arose. There, senseless, she found the bleeding body of the youtliful cavalier. She summoned assistance from her tribe — for she was a gipsy — his wound was carefully cared for by her, and she was rewarded upon his recovery by his love. She was rewarded with his hand — for he married her, and lived with her and her people a year, At the end of that time a child was born to them ; it was a girl ; the Count loved it, as he loved its mother, passionately. He presented himself before his father, the head and the haughtiest meml)er of one of the oldest families of Castile. He was received with great joy and much rejoicing. In the fulness of his heart he gave to his family a history of his accident and its result. He spoke in glowing terms of hisbeautiful young wife and his beloved child, but he sudden- ly perceived his hearers subsiding into a cold silence. VVheu he had concluded, they were frozen into figures of ice. He was a minor, and his proud fatlier made short work of the matter. By the laws of Spain he was unable to contract a marriage without his fatlier' s consent — he was unable to contract a mai-riage with one who was without the pale of his church. The marriage was at once annulled. The Count was thrown into prison by his fa- ther because he rebelled with frantic fierceness against his author- ty, and in attempting to escape he lost his life, and his love — his wife no longer — died of a broken heart when the news, alas I too soon was conveyed to her. Now, Floret, mark me. That Count of Spain was mi/ father ; that young girl was ?»,(/ mother. What am 1? Do you Comprehend me, girl:' What position do I hold in the world '.' Answer me ! [Floret remains nilent, being deeply uijUat.ed.i- What am 1 in the eyes of the law? What am 1 in the estimation of that huge hypocrisy, society ? A pariah !— an outcast !— a nameless creature of shame. Do you understand me now, Floret? Floket. [Faintli/.] I cannot see that you are an object of humiliation, for your father and mother were married, and by a clmrcli ceremonial. 1 presume? Hagak. They were. The words invoked by the priest who united them were: "Those whom God hath joined let no man put asunder." But man did put them asunder, and made tf me a creature of shame — a thing of the world, not legitimate. I the daughter of a Count of Spain,- am that humiliated object {gasp- inij jearjuUy) of — of — of contumelious reproach — a — a — ugh; my throat swells at the thought of the liated woi'd — I am in the eyes of the law — a — a bastard. [*7(e appears very wretched, vnping t lie perftplrution from her brow. Floret is extremely agitated.] I now address niyself to your past, Floret, I have given you an il- lustration. You can apply il. Flokkt. [Shrieks with ai/ony.] No! no! no! no! Do not — Oh do not say that — not that — oh no — not that. (Gasjfs desperately for breath and throws herself down, sobbing as if heart broken.\ .40 KI.OliET, OK Hagar. Nay, you must have facts, then. You entreated rae to conceal nothing from you — you shall know all. It cannot mat- ter to you to know how or where your parents met. it will suf- fice for you to know that they did meet. Your mother at that fated hour was of your age, no more, and as like you in feature and in form as it may he possible for twin sistex's to be ; she met — and in secret — one whose form was framed to make a young girl's heart leap out of her keeping into his — one who, havilig extorted her heart from her, had not one to givejn return. She awoke to the discovery that she had been made the dupe of an insincere, a heartless villain ; that the heart she yearned for — for which she had wholly and completely resigned herself — had not been surren- dered to her ; and she awoke, also, to the horror that she — young fair, of patrician descent — possessed, in lieu of this heart, Great Spirit, a child. [Floret exhibits deep eitiufion, draicinu her breath with ar/onlziny difficulty.] Poor little innocent, miserable, name- less, object! It was born to misfortune, born to trial and trouble. Its father — well, we will not speak of him, save to say, that he- married a young lady of fair fame and much wealth. Its mother very quickly afterward gave her hand in marriage to one of the wealthiest and haughtiest peers of this gi-eat kingdom. She ignor- ed the existence of her child, bat married that illustrious Lord, who made her his marchioness. The child proceeded on its destiny. A young girl named Fanny Shelley, who had been reared with the mother 6f the babe, and who loved her truly and tenderly, took charge of the offspring, intending to take the place of the parent who had so barbarously deserted it ; but the child, in the fulfilment of its destiny, brought only woe to this unhappy girl. Her lover, to whom she refused to disclose the poor girl's secret, taxed her with being its sinful mother, poor girl ! The result of the bitt(ir quarrel, which followed was, that one morning poor Fanny Shelley was- found drowned — murdered too — in a deep brook near Beachbo- rough. [Floret tries to speak — to scream—she yasps, pants and struijylesj'or breath. ^Lt length hoarse sobs burst Jroin her lips,) Floket. I — I am that child? Mamma Atten told me — but not murdered — Oh I not murdered- : Haoab. I said murdered — foully murdered. [Floret utters one lony, auyoaished, despariitg cry of ayoaij, and falls lifeless to the yruiind, Gazlny at her coldly. ] Poor girl; her destiny is a hard one; but the planet which rules that destiny has prognosti- cated suffering only for it; it portends danger and suffering still. I am but an instrument of the stars. 1 would fain not got on with the task I have undertaken, but my destiny and hei's w 11 that it should be so. [Floret raises herself, and pressing her /tands upon her temples, yuzes around dreaniily.] Now remember all that I "have communicated to you. Have you aught further to ask of me? Floret. [Desperate effort.] Tell me the name of the — the woman whom you have said is my mothm-. and a marchiou jss — the name of my mother — I ask only thai. THE POOR GIRL. 41 Hagae. That you may curse her ? No, no ! You are a girl — a mere child — you — Floket. [Deej) cujony.'] In the name of that Almighty Power, in whose dread presence we may both shortly stand, have mercy on me and tell me ihe name of my mother — for she is still my mother, no matter loliut sin or error she may be guilty of — I entreat you to tell me her name, that I may go to her and on my bended knees entreat her to recognize me — to acknowledge me — to call me daughter. O, I will plead so earnestly, she can- not — she cannot refuse me ! O, woman, if you have a woman's heart, you carmot, you will not refuse me ; do, I beseech of you, do — do — take me to her. [Sobbing. \ HagA-U. [l/ored — asicZe.] It is worth the trial. It shall be attempted. [To Floret.^ You shall stand before her. Poor Girl, and assert your rights at least once, and then I will bid you and your destiny farewell forever, Floket. O thanks, thanks, for this kind act. Hag AB. I require none, nor do I wish for them ; but come, are you ready to stand before her who gave you existence ? Floret. [Calmly. \ Yea! though I knew as I crossed the threshold of her door, I should fall dead. [Both exit at R.] {Enter Lipeb Leper l.) Lifer. [Gazing after her.] O, White Rose, purified even by the fiery ordeal through wliich you are passing, you shall yet bloom and be the fairest flower of them all, for I will put in your possession that — ere you reach the Marchioness of West- chester — which chall force her to recognize you as her own. Aye, her own leyitimate child. Be of good cheer. Floret, be of good cheer ; for you shall yet stand among them the proudest of the proud. Hagar has been fearfully wrong in her surmises. I alone know the truth of the Poor Girl's parentage — but the time has come when she nuisl know it also. Aye I before another hour shall pass over her head. I must follow them and entreat Hagar to give me a word in private with the White Rose. iJExits after them.] Scene II. Floret. '.A by-path or lane. Liper and Floret enter iogetJierfroin l. Floret Is aad. Floret. I knew that I should see you, Liper. [Striving to keep back the tears.] I was sure that you would not fail me in this, my darkest hour, and now you have come. Oh, receive my thanks — my utmost gratitude, Liper. Lii'ER. I wished to see you alone, White Rose, and I have brought you here in order that I may, if possible, dash the bitter cup, which you were about to drain, forever from your lips. In urder that I may lighten the burden of sorrow which is lying lieavy on your heart and which is almost greater than you are able to bear. [Floret is xobbiuci heavily.] "Wliite Rose I was concealed 42 FLORET, OB near by and heard all that Hagar has just told you. She lied Ifierceli/] when she told you you were a thing of shame and not legi- timate. IFluret. bewildered, and showing evidences of the most unbounded astonishment.) You are as honorably and proudly born as the Queen of England herself. Floket. yWith great anxiety.] Oh, Heavenly.Father [with folded upraised hands and on her lcnees\ accept the thanks of a broken heart for thy inlinite niercy. [Blsiug \ Oh Liper,do you know what you have said ; do you know what you have donel^ You have opened the gate of Heaven, almost. Pray God you have not done so heedlessly. <)h,you could not be so cruel. [Sob- bin;/. I It would— would — kill — me to go back from whence I came. Oh speak to me and tell me your authority for what you say. LiPER. What more competent authority can there exist upon this point than myself, and I say that Hagar told you an initiui- tous lie land yet she knows no better; she believes that she spoke the truth. Fi.oKET. ISarprise.] You an authority, Liper? LiPEK. Why not"? Kellect — nay, I will briefly prove to you what an authority I am. I was concealed near to Hagar Lot when the Marchiojiess of Westchester instructed her to steal you from Beachborough. I stole you sleeping from your bed. I was with Hagar Lot when the Marchioness saw you at Ascot Kaces, and who in an after interview with Hagar concerning you, fainted. Would she have fainted, think you, had you not been her own child. I have shadowed the Marchioness ever since, and I fol- lowed her into a church one day and saw her eagerly scan the pages of a big book. It was the Kegister of Marriage's. (Floret listening eagerly.) I saw her take from her pocket a knife. I listened attentively and I heard the sharp run of a knife over the paper. When she rose up, she hastily crushed a sheet of paper in her hand, and then hid it away. She returned to Eaby Hall and concealed it in a cabinet. White Hose, [takes a folded document from his pocket] behold a true copy of it made by myself, and the tiuie has now come when you nuist have its original, and you s/taii have it, rest assured, before you reach her mansion. Kead it carefully. {Hands it to her.) You will see that it is a register of marriage between Constance Neville Plantagenet and of Lenox Bertram, now Earl of Braekleigh. When I hand the original of this to you preserve it as you would your life, for it proclaims your honorable birth, as it records the marriage of the pair of whom Hagar spoke so falsely. White Hose, are you satisfied that I have proven my authority ? Floret. [With emotion.] God in Heaven will reward you, Liper, for I am utterly incapable. Human language is utterly in- adequate to express the gratitude welling over in my heart toward you. Liper. Kemember, Floret, this document only proves the mar- riage of a man and woman ; it does not prove you their child. I THE POOR GIRL. 43 and others know that you are so, but legal proof there is none. The secret of your birth was kept by the Marchioness and Fanny yiielley ; the latter is dead — the Marchioness can alone furnish the proof you require. Will she make the admission, think you ? At this very hour she loves her real husband madly, and regards with abhorrence her present Lord. The Earl of Brackleigh also wor- ships her, and hesitates not to show his admiration openly, and would in his desperation proclaim their joint guilt in ha.ving com- mitted bigamy, and with her share a prison. Should he do so he would be regarded as a madman, since, through the cunning fore- sight of she who is his real wife, he is absolutely without legal proof, and is consequenlly helpless, just as you are helpless, unless her proud nature relents and she calls you daughter. Fi.oKET. It must be tried. 1 feel that I am not base-born — that I have within my veins the blood of the high-born and the noble, and terrible as may be the task of facing her who is, but w\u> has not acted to me as my mother, it shall not daunt me — there is nothing that 1 will not dare, to be able to kneel and offer up my thanks to Heaven, that if it has seen fit to chasten, alHict and try me sorely, even to make me an outcast, it has not doomed me to be nameless. Lii'EB. Some of your old spirit spoke there, spring-flower. — You will have occasion for all of it that you can rouse into action. Your niother is a haughty, and I know a desperate woman. As I have said she realizes and keenly reproaches herself for her crime, but like many another she will not turn back, since she has faith that fate or death will ultimately release her. She has obtained from Hagar Lot a quantity of that fearful material, the Gipsies' poison. It is a fungus, and, once taken, the taker dies without manifesting a symptom that is in any degree suspicious — a violent coughing is its only telltale, and that is too natural to excite surprise. Floket. But, Liper, why do you speak of this poison to me ? LiPEii. I would that I had it not to say, White Rose, but it is far better for me to warn you now than when it may be too late. White Rose, refuse utterly, to take any liquid while in her house. She is subtle and I fear remorseless. Flouet. Such suspicions are not kind, Liper; but is there nothing existing which will counteract its baneful effects? LiPEu. There is. Long and patient search has enabled me t3D discover an antidote; I have tried it upon myself after swallowing some of the poison and am assured of its perfect efficacy. (Hand- ing her a smaU vial of colored liquid.) A few drops of that in a glass of water, and taken internally, will destroy the effect of the venomous fungus and eradicate it from the system. Carry it al- ways about you. It will prove effectuiil even when the poison is in its most virulent stage. Will you still go to her. White Rose? Floket. 1 do not shrink from it, Liper; death from her would be preferable to life without the interchange of one word with her— my mother, Liper, whom, knowingly, I have never seen— to whom 1 have never spoken. 44 FLORET, OR LiPER^ Heaven speed you then White Rose. Here is Hagar, who has grown impatient, I presume. Let her remain in igno- rance — Enter Hagak Lot at L. Hagar. I have been looking after you, Floret. Are you ready now? Floret. I am in your hands. Do with me as you will. [To Liper.\ Come with us, Liper, for a short distance. [All exit at R.) Scene III. A sitting room luxuriantly furnished; doors on R, L, and c. Marchioness of Westchester discovered reclining upon a lounge asleep; table near her upon which is a small basket and a small escretoire, Liper Leper enters softly at l, looks search- ingly around; goes to the table, picks from the basket a bunch of keys, applies one of them to the escritore, opens it and takes therefrom a folded document and replaces it by one from his person similarly folded. ] LiPKR. [Low tone.) For the Wild White Rose. (Waves if.) Ay! The bud shall yet blossom and bloom [Reads it.] lExits quickly and softly at L. ] Constance. [Aivaking with a start.] Pshaw I it was only a dream. Wliy should I fear? What shall destroy my fame now? Bertram? He cannot blight me with his new found love. Let himsay to the world, "she is my wife." Iwillanswer: "It is false! I challenge you to the proof." Aye I Where shall he find proof? Fanny Shelley, — the curate — all, all gone — dead — dead ! The reg- ister of our marriage ? Aha ! aha ! I, too, have that — the child — la wailitig sob bursts from her lips']— he never knew of its ex- istence and he cannot — no, neither he nor any other living person can prove it to be mine. No! no! no! Yet it is my own — wretched — hateful — accursed — child — my child — my own child. My God! my God! [Litense excitement.] Am I to blame that I have spurned it from me as a thing of shame? Am I to be doomed to a life of acute and excruciating torture here, and to eternal perdition hereafter, because I have discarded, disowned it ? Am I alone the guilty, heartless wretch ? No — no ! No — no ! If he had been but noble in spirit, O, I should not stand here desolate, alone, and unloved, bowed down by the scathing taunts of my own conscience, cowering beneath an avalanche of degra- dation and ruin? Why was I cursed with such a heart as mine? I have loved this man ! My God! 1 love him now! — wildly, dis- tractedly; and he returns it madly, he says. Would that I could, but I cannot, retrace my steps. I dare not go back now; it is too late. I must go onward — :on — on. I nuist not hesitate, or pause, at whatever cost — whatever crime. [Hagar Lot is seen at c door. She puslies Floret into the room, and retires shutting the door.] THK POOR GIRL. 45 CoKSTANCE. (Starting agitatedly. ) Wliat is the meaning of this strange intrusion ? Who are you ? [Floret falls upon her knees at her feet yraspiny her dress, and in a tearful, suplicat- in(j manner. \ Fjlouet. Mother! [Constance witha frantic screech tries to re- lease her dress and staggers to the lounge. Floret still clings to her, and follows her upon her knees.] Mother, I am your child. Mother, do not disown me. Do not discard me. In mercy, in pity, do not deny me. In the name of Him who made you and all the world, be merciful to me, as you hope hereafter for mercy from Him. O, spurn me not. I am your child. One word, mother, one word to me. Constance. [ With glaring eyes and maddened expression — hoarsely.] Begone. Quit my sight. Leave me. This is some infamous plot hatched against me. Begone, brat, wretch, or,I will curse you. Begone, beggar. Floret. [Rising with a cry of anguish, pressiny her hands upon her temples, twisting her wrists about her neck and writhing in a paroxysm of agony— then Jtinging her hands by her side and clenching them she draws herself proudly up, and in a quivering .scornful,ljitter tone.] Woman, you shall hear me. 1 came here to implore justice. I remain here now to demand it. Look upon me ; examine my features well, and tell me if you know them. [ Sternly. ] Tell me if you recognize in them the features of your dependant, murdered foster-sister, Famiie Shelley ? Do they re- semble them ? Speak, am I like Fannie Shelley so much as to be her child? Mark me, woman. \_Points solemnly upward.] Al- mighty God is looking down upon us. In his presence I call upon you to answer me truly — Am I Fannie Shelley's child? (Con- stance cowers. ) You are silent. [Intense energy. \ You shrink — you know that it is false. And to whom did you wilfully and de- liberately repeat that falsehood ? — my father and your husband, the Earl of Brackleigh ? CoNSTA.vcE. [Casping.] How dare you utter these wild, in- coherent assertions to me? Begone, I know you not. Floret. [^Excitedly. ] I dare do this, and more ; for you dis- own me — 1 who have been so long and so hopelessly the victim of your cruelty — I will not go. Listen to me; know me for thatchild whom you saw at Beachborough, a poor pauper; know me for that child whom you saw playing the part of a miserable beggar upon a race-course. Do you know me now? [Sobs bitterly.] Constance. [With a powerful eifort.] I know you only for the person you declare yourself to be, excepting that audacious declaration of being allied to me ; but even that does not give you the right to obtrude yourself upon me, I might summon my ser- vants and have you expelled, and even consigned to the custody of the police, but I have compassion on your juuth and your sex; and I believe you are the child of Shelley, who was to me a faithful and devoted attendant. I therefore spare you the ignominy of a forcible expulsion, and I may feel disposed to promote your inter- 46 FLOKEX, OK ests in some way, so that you may live in a decent and respectable manner, and not descend to such artifices as these, in the hope to. wring from me some paltry hush money. Flouet. [Deep emotion.] If your heart was not made of ad- amant you would never have consigned me to the fate you have. You would not see me thus stand before you, and address me in such heartless terms — nay, you would not have committed one sin- gle deed of the many which now lay heavj' upon your soul. Poor murdered Fanny Shelley was, as you admit, yoiir faithful devoted attendant. She sacrificed her life for you — and in reward for her faithful devotion — assuming that I am her child — how did you act toward me. Your imagination can form no conception of the miseries I have been compelled by you to endure; and for what? — not that I was the child of poor Fanny, but that I was your child, tlie unacknowledged offspring of a secret marriage between you and Viscount Bertram, now Earl of Brackleigh. CoxsTANCE. {Furlouxly] I will not listen to these preposter- ous inventions. I only wonder that i liave listened to your words so long. I, however, command you now to retire, or — Fi^OKET. [Veheinetitli/.] But you must, and you shall listen to them from me. It is fai- better that they should fall like blister- ing hail upon your cars from my lips, than they should be thun- dered into them from the mouths of others. You deny your mar- riage with the Viscoimt Bertram. Are you prepared to deny that you went to Brighton alone, and extracted from the book of the register of marriages, a leaf containing ojie of the entries. Constance. [Astounded. \ This is mere assei-tion. Floret. I have that abstracted leaf, in my possession. CoNSTANX'E. 1^-1 .Side] My God. [To Floret] The scheme has been cleverly concocted, but you prove too much. Had I com- mitted the act w'ith which you have charged me, that leaf of the register would have been in my possession, not yours. [Sueer- imjly,] Flohet. [Coldly.] It was in your possession, but it is now properly in mine, for it will lieip me to prove that I am — Cox.staxce. [Anqribj.] Stop. I again tell you to begone. — I have listened longer than I imagined I could have done to your foully-false accusations; now go. Leave me instantly or I will call my servants, and — Floret. [Voice IrembUng with emotion.] I wiH leave you now, with much unsaid that I had intended to say. It is perhaps as well as it is. I could have forgiven all that has passed, all that I have borne. I would have preserved your seci'et even to my v;»n destruction, if you had said but one kind word to me, be- r;t_ wed upon me one tender look — had pressed your lips to mine ooJy once, and whispered in my ear, 'thou art my child !' I yearned or ly when I entered hei-e that you should know me, that I might r.i 11 you mother, and you confess me — if only to myself — to be vcur child ; but now the v:orld shall knov>' me for whom I am, and — THE POOR UIRL. 47 lEnter a maid servant hurriedly at it. At same instant from c enter Hayar Lot. Servant. ( Wringing her hands. My Lady ; my lady ; th*^ Marquis is approaching, my lady. Hagab, {Catching Floret's lurist.) You must accompany me. Fi.oKET. ( Throwing her hand off haugldily and flinging herself at Constance^ s feet with a wild cry of grief— and in half chocked accents.) One word — one word— one little word. (Constance stands unmoved.) Do not drive me from you without a word. — One little word will seal my lips forever ; though it force me to Siic- rifice everything that makes life so lovely to the young. O, O, O, one— one word moth— moth— mother. [Falls fainting at her fcet.\ [Fnter the Marquis at c, and stands just over the threshold.] CoxsTANCK. I Coders her face.] We are lost, lost, lost. ACT IV. ONE MOjSTH later. Scene I. Susan Atten's apartment. A very comfortably fur- nished sitting room; doors on R and c; windows near each. Floret is discovered busily engaged in arranging the furniture. Floret. [Humming a lively song at intervals.] Home again with Mamma Atten ; and O, how happy I am. I cannot be so very, very bad, or Mamma Atten would not love me so much asshedoes, when my own mother so dislikes me. I pray to my Heavenly Fa- ther fevery night that He may bless my poor mother, and cause her to love me and acknowledge me, if only tomyself, as her child; and I feel that He will liear and answer my prayer. In His mercy a heavy burden has been lifted from my heait, for Fannie Shelly, whom we all thought dead, has wandered back to her old home. Poor Godmamma Fannie — poor insane Fannie — after all these years in an asylum is among friends once more, and, thank God, with her reason almost bright again. It almost seems as though God was answering my prayers by restoring her reason and sending her to me, for she alone has the power to move my mother's heart, and give me a name before the world. What good news this will be to tell Victor when he comes to-night, as he has done every night until the illness of his father took him away, and now he has been gone two weeks; but his last letter says he shall be here to-night. [Gleefully.'] O, how I do love him, and I know he doi-s me, tod, though he has never told me so — that is, not in words — but he has looked — O, how he has loolced at me, and I know it well enough, but — but — but I (Zo wish he would say so. [Listening eagerly.] Hark ! that sounds like his step. It comes nearer — yes. yes, it's 48 ' FLOKKT, OB Victor, it's Victor. [Gets middenly nervous regarding her person- al appearance, runs to the glass, arranges her hair, etc; knocks are heard at the door.] Oli, my I I musii't let him see how glad I am to see him. [Busily dusting.] Come in, [calling,] come in. Enter Lord Victor, dressed in deep mourning. Floret runs to him and extends a hearty loelcome. Victor. I cannot tell jou. Floret, how grateful I feel to know tliatyou are glad to see me back again, or — Flokkt. l.Quickly.) And why should I not be glad, Victor? You are everything to me — {confusion) I mean — I mean that you — tliat we — that you are my sincere friend, and of them I have too few not to be glad to see tlieni after so long an absence as yours has been. Victor. t^Smillng.) Yes; the longest ,A.'S at R, omittinjto notice tlbcir position. They quick- ly and conjusedly sejiarate.'} Si SAN. O, Floret, I have such good news to tell you. Fanny has recovered her reason and she knows now who you are, dear Floret. She knows that you are the child she brought to Beach- b(jrougli, and who cost her her reason — no — no — I mean — who was reare(l there as the Poor Girl, and who once suffered so much. — But slie wishes so earnestly to see you that she is now on her way ilovvn stairs. She will be here^ directly. I will go and meet her. ^ [Fxits R.j Feoukt. O.Victor, I feel so happy and joyous — but — but the room may be full of strangers tu you presently, so per — perhaps you had better go — iiadn't you Victor? i'ou know I should love t-dO FLORET, OR dearly to have you stop — but — but, well you know you can come again? Victor. [Clasping his in her arms and kissing 7ier.] Yes, yes, I will go, dear Floret, but I will come agaiu every day. IGoing.] May God bless you, Floret, farewell. Flouet. Good bye, Victor, good bye. [Victor exit c] Enter Fanny supported by Susan and Hakky. She is sickly looking and walksjeebly. They conduct her to an arm chair. Floret. IHalf timidly taking Fannie' s hand.'} Do you know me, Fannie? Fannie. Know you ! O, yes. Miss. I recognized your fea- tures instantly. Could I ever forget them ? Floret. [Breathlessly.^ Whose features do mine resemble? Fannie. [Looking earnestly at her.} Those of your lady mother, Miss. When last 1 beheld her, she looked scarcely older than you — as fair and beautiful, only haughtier, prouder, more scornful in her expression. Floret. [Anxiously. | You speak of your foster-sister 1 Fannie. I do. Miss, of my foster-sister whom 1 loved as the breath of life, my foster-sister and your mothef. Floret. [Earnestly. \ And her name ? Fannie. [Musingly.} The world then knew it as Constance Edith Planta^enet, but i knew it as tbat of Viscountess Uertram. Floret. [(Quickly.} You were present at her marriage ? Fannie. I was, Miss, Floret. [Eagerly. \ And attached your name to the register ■ as one of the witnesses ? Fannie. [Readily. \ I did, Miss. Floret. [Producing the register — pointing.] Is that your hand writing ? Fannie. [Firmly.} It is. Floret. [Sigh of relief.} Thank Heaven! Fannie. [Surprise.} But, in Heaven's name, how came you possessed'cf tliat paper? It was in a large book that 1 signed my n»me. Floret. You shall know all, shortly. I wish first of all to es- tablish my identity. You will aid me, will you Jiot? Fannie. ( Warmly.) With my whole heart. Floret. (Anxiously.) Do you remember my birth? Fannie. O, well — well I remember that dreadful night. It was a terrible night. It rained very heavily, and the wind howled and the thunder roared, and the lightning flashed in sheets of flame, I went alone for the doctor, and in his presence, that of mine and of God only, was the cbild born. 1 attended to its first wants, and to those of its wretched, helpless mother. It was I who shielded it in my arms wben its mother refused to look upon it in her bitter, unnatural hate. * I wbo bore it to a nurse, who nourished it. I, who, upon my knees placed it before her, when fih^ resolved to part from it and from me forever, when she extolled THE POOB GIKL. 61 from me a promise— O, my God ! ( Utters a scream and/alls upon her kueett. ) What have 1 done ! — what have 1 done I O, my God I pardon me. i have violated my oath to preserve this, her secret, sacredly, until she herself ov death absolved me from it. Go. (To Floret.) Leave me. G. You have made me break my vow. {Bows her head and weeps and trembles convulsiveit/. Floret is (jiving away to her emotion on Susan^ s shoulder, who is caressiwj her.) Harry. {Raising Fannie andpressing her to his breast — in a tender, earnest voice.) Look up, Fannie, girl ; look up girl, thee'st done no wrong. Thee hast parted with thy love — with reason — nay for a time thee hast parted with thy life, to keep that creature's sad secret. Thee hast done thy duty by her nobly, bravely ; but thee hast a duty, too, girl, to her who tirst rested m thy arms in this world. Thee did' st vow to thyself to be a mother to yon girl; and thee wast so when all the world fell off from thee, when even I — a coward and a dog for losing faith in thee — fell away, too, and would have tried to tear thy secret out of thy heart, even at the cost of thy life and mine. An' thee would' st have been a mother to her still, had 1 not doubted and condemned thee, would'st thee not'? {Fanny still sobbiny.) yhe has been aU her life a poor girl, Fannie, a poor, ragged girl. She be a poor girl still. — Wilt thee girl, for the sake of maintaining a weak promise made to a hard hearted woman, doom this bright and beautiful girl to be a poor girl to the end of her daysV Wilt thee do this, Fannie, an' — an' keep my love for thee, too ? Fannik. {Suddenly throwing herself at FloreVs feet.) Take me to her, to Miss Constance — tne Viscountess Bertram. God knows what now — take me to her! X will pray to her. I will clasp her knees. I will not leave her until she has absolved me from my oath ! Fjlokkt. {liaising her and twining her arm around her neck.) Compose yourself dear Fanny. Calm your feelings, and when you are stronger and better, we will together proceed to her. Fanxik. {Keleasiny herself . Now, shall it be; not a day — not an hour shall pass without my presenting myself before her. I will go now. Come, come, i know the way. • flAUKY. {Soothingly.) Gently, girl, thee'st exciting thyself too much. Fannie. {Decidedly.) No, Harry, I am not mad now. 1 have a duty to perform; you have said that I have, and I will do it. Come — come. Florkx. Harry! Harry, you must restiain her. She is weak and sickly ; she will faint on the way. Harkv. {Reverently.) She be in the hands of God, Miss. Let her have her own way. He will conduct her to the right end. I feel sure o' that! Fan NIK, Come quickly, child ; come — come! {Grasps Fioret'$ waist and all exit at c.) 52 FLOEET, OK Scene II, A lyiagnificently furnished library; large and heavy bookcuse on k; lounge, chains, tables, etc. Uoors on t. and c. — Enter the Marquis of iVestchester at L very excitedly. Marquis. [Detenninedly.] I must see her. 1 must see her. I will. 1 must come to some decided, positive, and determinate arrangement with her. She shall not foil, elude, escape me. fcjhe must be mine under any name. Wife, mistress, slave — she shall be mine. I cannot endure this torture ; damnation can have no pangs to equal the agonies which convulse me. JShe shall never be his — the Earl of iirackleigh, who would seduce her affections. No I — no! 1 have insulted him and received his friend. i'U slay him. He shall never leave the point of my weapon with life even llutttring in his heart. O, woman, woman, what will you have to answ Gi' for if you repulse me as you have hitherto Uonel^ \_11(: sinlcs into a chair and covers Ids j ace with his hu)i.ds.j [Enter CoxsTAXCE/rom c haughtily.'} CoKSTANCE. (IHntantly.) I am here. What have you to say to me ? Makquis. [Starting up and try in;/ to conceal his emotion.] Madam, since we stood at the altar together, we have never been in that relation to each other in whi^i. a clear and frank under- standing would have placed us. Constance. lne, believe that I always regarded you, in these last moments, as when I met you — as young and beautiful as she who is now by my side — our child. Con- stance, I know that you loved me, and that you would have re- mained lirm and loyal to the last — Constance. O, Bertram, Bertram, hear me — believe me, in the face of the Supreme Creator who gazes down upon us both at this dread moment, that I speak I he truth to you. I have been true to you Bertram — my husband — true to that marriage vow which bound my honor to yours — true in thought, in deed, in look chaste, I swear, Bertram. Do not die without believing, in your heart and soul ; that the immaculate purity which you purchased at the altar with solemn vows, bears, even now, not a tinge or taint of shame upon it. Floret. [^Taking Victor^s hand, who is standing near, and who has been listening eagerly.] Kneel quickly, Victor, and let us re- ceive my father's blessing ere he dies! [They kneel.] Bertram. {Intense fervor.) I die, happy! Floret. (Quickly.) No, no, no, dear father. Give us your 62 FLORET. blessing ere you die. I am the promised wife of Lord Victor. O bless us — bless us before you die. Beijtbam. (Hands upon their heads.) Take her, Victor — (feebly) — take her — love her and treat her tenderly — and as you do to her, so may God in Heaven do to you, and may He bless you, even as I do in my dying hour. {Gasping.) My wife — my child- one last embrace! {He folds them in his arms and amid their soba falls back on the lounge, dead. During the latter part of this last sentence all in the room kneel. ) THE END. STORY. During the early portion of tlicir lives, the Earl of Brackleigh' (Bertram) and Constance PJantagenet, contracted a secret, but le- gitimate marriage. Soon after, tlie newly made husband and wife quarelled and separated, each agreeing }iever to molest the other in whatever marriage they might again contract. The issue of this marriage,, but wholly unknown to its father, was the child Floret, for whom its mother at its birth conceived a violent hatred, and under the most solemn vows of secrecy that its birth should never be revealed to any living creature, the child was transferred to the arms and future care of the mother's maid and foster sister, Fan- nie Shelley, who was so devotedly attached to her mistress' inter- ests, that she consented to rear it as her own, and the child was forthwith conveyed to her own far distant home. Upon arriving among her friends with the newly born child in her arms, and not being able to give a satisfactory explanation of its presence, she was accused by her lover (iiarry) with being its gnilty mother. A violent quarrel ensued, and this, together with having to bear the burden of its real mother's secret, dethroned her reason. One morning Fannie Shelley was missing, and upon a search being in- stituted, articles of her wearing apparel were found floating in the river. It was supposed that she had drov.ned herself, 'and in an agony of remorse her former lover took the child Floret home to his sister, Susan Atten, to rear and educate. Meantime the child's mother had contracted a second marriage with Lord Westchester, (he supposing he hadwoed and won a maid) but her guilty secret weighing heavily on her mind, she surreptitiously removed from the Church registry the record and all ti'a*ce of her foriiier mar- riage, and suspicious that her child might in some way complicate her future, she contracted, under an assumed name, with the Gip- sy girl, Hagar Lot, to abduct it and so effectually dispose of it that by no chance or possibility could it ever again cross her path, or in anyway be ever cognizant of the fact that it wag other than its de- signed future should make it — an outcast! This scheme was so far consummated that Hag;ir Lot stole tlie cliild from Mamma Atten (who .afterwards made an unavailing search for its whereabouts) and after marking it, placed it in the charge of an old Gipsy of her tribe, with the understanding that at some future day she would again take it from liim. Years passed by, and the child who had been educated to believe herself a Gipsy, and the daughter of the old man and woman wdio had her under their control, became des- perate at the cruel treatment slie received at their hands, and re- solved upon escaping frcm tliem, which resolution she ultimately carries into execution. The Daddy to whom she has made herself extremely valuable by selling floweis, is wild at her loss, while his wife (Grannam) who has regarded her as a burden, is extremely indifferent, but both are disco vei-ed searching.' m!^,^,!^'^^ Of" CONGRESS lllillliliiiiillill 016 102 178 7