Ray. A pickpocket! Well.
Pearl. This hand my mother grasped by her own, and so tightly that a small, feeble voice uttered an exclamation of pain. Mother looked down, and there beside her was a little ragged girl.
Ray. The thief.
Pearl. Yes, but a thief hardly six years old, with a face like an angel's. "Stop!" said my mother. "What are you doing?" "Trying to steal," said the child. "Don't you know that it's wicked to do so?" asked my father. "No," said the girl, "but it's dreadful to be hungry." "Who told you to steal?" asked my mother. "She—there!" said the child, pointing to a squalid woman in a doorway opposite, who fled suddenly down the street. "That is Old Judas," said the girl.
Ray. Old Judas. What a name! But how does this story interest us?
Pearl. This child was Laura. My father was about to let her go unharmed—but my mother said "No, it is not enough. We have a duty to perform, even to her," and acting on a sudden impulse, took her to our home. On being questioned there, the child seemed to have no recollection, save of misery and blows. My mother persuaded father, and the girl was sent to a country clergyman's for instruction, and there she remained for several years.
Ray. Pearl, you are joking with me.
Pearl. In beauty, and accomplishments, and dignity, Laura (as mother named her) exceeded every girl of her age. In gratitude she was all that father could have wished. She was introduced as you know, into society as my cousin, and no one dreams of her origin.
Ray. (Starting np). Laura, an outcast—a thief!
Pearl. (Rising). No, that is what she might have been.
Ray. And this man—to-night.
Pearl. All I know about him is, that four years ago this man came with a cruel looking woman, to see mother. There was a fearful scene between them, for Laura and I sat trembling on the stairs, and overheard some awful words. At last they went away, the man putting money into his pocket as he left.
Ray. But who were they?
Pearl. Laura never told me, and mother would not. But, of course, they must have been Laura's father and mother. (Ray sinks on chair as if overcome.)
Pearl. Mother made me promise never to tell anybody this, and you would have known nothing had not Laura made me speak. You see, she would not conceal anything from you. (Going to him.) Ray, why don't you speak—shall I go after Laura? Shall I tell her to come to you? Why don't you answer? (Going.) I'll go and tell her you want to see her. (Pausing as she goes R.) I'm going to send her to you, Ray.
Ray. (Starting up.) What a frightful story. Laura Courtland a thief! A drunken wretch who knows her history, and a squalid beggar woman who can claim her at any moment as their child. And I was about to marry her. Yes, and I love her. But what would my mother think? My friends Society? No—no—no—I cannot think of it. I will write her—I will tell her pshaw! she knows of course that I cannot wed her now! (Goes to the table L. U.
