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IJ 
 
 UNDER THE GASLIGHT; 
 
 A TOTALLY ORIGINAL AND PICTURESQUE 
 
 DRAMA OF LH^E AND LOVE IN THESE TIMES, 
 
 IN FlVIi] ACTS. 
 
 BY AUGUSTIN DALY, 
 
 AUTHOR OF " LEAH THE FORSAKEN,"' " GRIFFITH GAUNT," " TAMIXG A BUTTERFLY. 
 
 ETC., ETC. 
 
 AS ORIGINALLY FLAYED AT THE NEAV YORK THEATER IN THE MONTHS OF 
 AUGUST, SEPTEMBER AND OCTOBER, 1867. 
 
 ^ NEW YORK; 
 
 PRINTED FOR THE AUTHOR, 
 18 6 1. 
 
<p^ X"^ 
 
 ^ 
 
 
 Entered according to Act of Congress in. the year 1867, by 
 
 AUGUSTIN DAT^Y, 
 
 In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the United States for tlie Southern District 
 
 of JN'ew York. 
 
UNDER THE GASLIGHT. 
 
 DRAMATIS PERSOJVm. 
 
 Ray Trafford — One of the New York " bloods." 
 
 Demilt — Of tlie rising Wall Street generation. 
 
 WiNDEL — His friend — Sound on the street. 
 
 Byke — One of the men whom the law is always reacliing foi-, and 
 
 never touches. 
 Snorkey — A returned veteran, established as a soldier messenger, but 
 
 open to anything else. 
 Justice Bowling — Of the Tombs Police Court. 
 Counsellor Splinter — An attorney of the same court. 
 Bermudas — One of the under crust, and one of the sidewalk merchant 
 
 princes. 
 Peanuts — A rival operator in papers and matches. 
 Sa.m — A colored citizen, ready for suftVage when it is ready for him. 
 The Signal Man at Shrewsbury Bend. 
 Rafferdi, (nee Rafferty,) — An Italian organist from Cork. 
 Sergeant of the River Patrol. 
 Policeman 9-9-9. 
 
 Martin — Servant to the Courtlands. 
 Peter Rich — The boy who was committed. 
 
 L'AURA CouRTLAND — The bcllc of Society. 
 Pearl Courtland — Pretty, but no heart. 
 Peach Blossom — A girl who was never brought up. 
 Old Judas — The right hand of Byke. 
 Mrs. Van Dam — One of the voices of society. 
 Sue Earlie — One of the echoes of the voice. 
 Lizzie Liston — Another echo. 
 
 Dock Boys, Policemen, Court Officers, Prisoners and Gentlemen and 
 Ladies of the Tuesday Sociable. 
 
 The scene of the first three Acts is New Fori-. 
 The scene of the last tivo Acts is Long Branch. 
 
 Time -.—The Present. 
 
 A lapse of four months between first and second Acf.-i^ and of one month 
 
 between third, and fourth Acts. 
 
 TIME OF representation : 
 
 .1st Act, 3;") minutes. 
 
 2d Act .30 minutes. 
 
 3d Act, .34 minutes. 
 
 4th Act, 30 minutes. 
 
 5th Act, , L5 minutes. 
 
UNDER THE GASLIGHT. 
 
 A C T I . 
 
 SCENE 1st.— Parlor at the Courtlands ; deep tvindoio at hack sliowing 
 snowy exterior ; dreet lamp lighted ; time, night; the place 
 elegantly furnished ; chandelier. 
 
 Ray TRAFFdRT) is discovered lounging on tete-a-tete 
 (c.) Pearl is at (l.) door taking leave of Demilt, 
 WiNDEL, Mrs. Van Dam, and Sue Eaklie, n-ho are all 
 dressed and muffled to go out. 
 
 Mrs. V. Groijd niglit! of course we'll see you on Tuesday. 
 
 Pearl. To be sure you will. 
 
 Demilt. Never spent a jollier hour. Good night, 'Ray. 
 
 Ray. {On sofa.) Good nig-ht. 
 
 Mrs. Y. You won't forget the Sociable on Tuesday, Ray? 
 
 Ray. 0, I won't ftjrget. 
 
 All. {At door.) Good night — Good night ! [Exit l. 
 
 Pearl. Good night. {Coming forioard.) 0, dear! now they're 
 gone, and the hoi idaj^'s gone with them. {Goes to ivindow.) There 
 they go. {Laughter loithout.) Ray, do come and look at the Van 
 Dams' new sleigh. How they have come out. 
 
 Ray. Yes, its the gayest thing in the Park ! 
 
 Pearl. {Still at window c.) I wonder where they got the money 1 
 I thought you said Van Dam had failed ! 
 
 Ray. Well, Yes. He failed to pay, but he continues to spend. 
 
 Pearl. {As if to those outside.) Good night ! {Response from 
 without as sleigh bells jingle — " Good night.^') I wish I was in there 
 with you. It's delightful for a sleigh ride, if it wasn't New Year's. 
 ! there's Demilt over ! {Laughter outside — cracking of whips — Ray 
 saunters up to window. Sleigh bells jingle, sleigh m udc heard, to die away. 
 Ray and Pearl wave their handkerchiefs. Ray comes dou-n and sits c.) 
 
 Pearl. {Closing lace curtains.) Isn't it a frightful thing to be shut 
 up here on such a beautiful night, and New Year's of all others. 
 Pshaw 1 we've had nothing but mopes all day. 0, dear ! I hate 
 mourning, though it does become me, and I hate everything but fun, 
 larks and dancing. {Comes down.) 
 
 Ray. Where in the world is Laura ? 
 
 Pearl. ! do forget her for a second, can't you ? She'll be here 
 presently. You're not in the house a minute but it's, "Where's 
 Laura ? " " Why don't Laura come ? " 
 
UNDER THE GASLIGHT. 7 
 
 Ray. {Taking hei- hand.) Well, if anybody in the world could 
 make me forget her, it would be you. But if you had a lover, 
 wouldn't you like him to be as constant as that ? 
 
 Pearl. That's quite another thing'. 
 
 Ray. But this doesn't answer my question — Where is she ? 
 
 Pearl. I sent ^)r her as soon as I saw you coming. She has 
 hardly been down here a moment all this evening. 0, dear 1 Now 
 don't you think Pm a victim, to be cooped up in this way instead of 
 receiving calls as we used to? 
 
 Ray. You forget thatj^our mother died only last Summer, (Bismg.) 
 
 Pearl. No, 1 don't forget. Pshaw! You're just like Laura. She's 
 only my cousin, and yet she keeps always saying — "Poor aunt 
 Mary ! let us not forget how she would have sorrowed for us."- 
 
 Ray. {Going towards back.) Well, don't you know she would, 
 too? 
 
 Pearl. I don't know anything about it. I was always at boarding- 
 school, and she only saw me once a year. Laura was always at 
 home, and it's very different. But don't let's talk about it. To die 
 — ugh! I don't want to die till I don't want to live — and that'll 
 not be for a million of years. Come, tell me, — where have you been 
 to-day? how many calls did you make ? {Sitting in tete-a-tete.) 
 
 Ray. About sixty. 
 
 Pearl. That all ? You're lazy. Demilt and Windel made a hund- 
 red and thirty, and they say that's nothing. Won't you have a cup 
 of cofiee ? 
 
 Ray. No. 
 
 Pearl. Ain't you hungry ? 
 
 Ray. No, — you torment. 
 
 Pearl. 0, dear ! 1 suppose it's because you're going to be 
 mai-ricd shortly to Laura. If there's one time that a man's stupid 
 to his friends, it's when he's going to be married shortly. Tell me 
 whom you saw. (Ray ha.'i sauntered off{h.), and is looking over cards on 
 table.) Where are you ? Oh, you needn't be so impatient to see her. 
 Do be agreeable ; sit here and tell me something funny, or I shall 
 drop down and fall asleep. 
 
 Ray. {Ovei- her shoulder.) You witch ! Why didn't I fall in love 
 with you ? 
 
 Pearl. {Laughing.) I don't know ; why didn't you? 
 
 Ray. You never keep me waiting. {Lidening off' r.) Ah, that's 
 her step ! No. 
 
 Pearl. Do sit down. 
 
 Ray. {Sitting.) This calling 's a great bore ; but as you and 
 Laura insisted I should go through it, I did. First I — {Jumping 
 up.) I knew it was she. {Goes to door, r. h.; meets Laura, who enters.) 
 How you did keep me waiting. {Kisses both her hands.) 
 
 Laura. And j'ou, sir, we have been looking for you since eight 
 o'clock. 
 
 Ray. 0, I Avas fulfilling your orders. Pve been engaged in the 
 business of calling, from ten o'clock in the morning, till now — {looks 
 at watch—) ten at night. 
 
 Laura. Well, you can make this your last one, for you have leave 
 to spend a nice long hour chatting here before you go. Won't you 
 have some supper ? {Goes to bell.) l. 2 e. on table. 
 
 Ray. I don't care if I do. Pm rather famished. 
 
 Pearl. Well, I declare! Did Laura bring your appetite with 
 "^'" ^ [Laura rings. 
 
UNDER THE GASLIGHT. 9 
 
 Ray. I don't know how it is, but she brings me a relish for 
 everything in life, I believe. Laura, I think if I were to lose you 
 I'd mope to death and starve to death. 
 
 Laura. Well, that's as much as to say I'm a sort of Life Pill. 
 (Martin enters cZoo7- L. H.) Supper. (Martin ea;i<.s.) 
 
 Ray. You may joke about it, — but it's so. You take the lounge. 
 (Laura and Pearl dt on tete-a-tete.) 
 
 Pearl. You don't want me to go away, do you ? {Putting her 
 head on Laura's shoulder.) 
 
 Laura. Certainly not. What an ideal 
 
 Pearl. I'm sure j^ou'U have time enough to be alone when you 
 are married. And I do so want to talk and be talked to. 
 
 Laura. Well, Ray shall talk to you. 
 
 Pearl. He was just going to tell me about his calls to-day. 
 
 Laura. That's exactly what we want to hear about. Did you call 
 on every one we told you to. 
 
 Ray. Every one. There was Miss 
 
 Pearl. Did you go to Henrietta Liston's first ? 
 
 Ray. Yes, and wasn't she dressed. Speaking of dress, are you 
 going to have your new pink for the Sociable, Tuesday? 
 
 Laura. Yes, Pearl and I will do credit to the occasion, as it is 
 our first for a year. 
 
 Ray. {Taking Laura's hand.) And our last. 
 
 Pearl. Our last ! 
 
 Ray. Laura's and mine. For when we are married, you know, 
 we shall be tabooed — where maids and bachelors only are permitted. 
 
 Pearl. O bless me ! {rising,) How do you do Mrs. Trafford. 
 
 Laura, {rising) {sadly.) I wish you hadn't said that Pearl. You 
 know the old Proverb : " Call a maid Ijy a married name." 
 
 Ray. Nonsense ! {Putting his arm about Laura's waist.) Its only 
 a few days to wait, and we'll live long enough, you know. For 
 nothing but death shall separate us. 
 
 (Martin appears at door l.) 
 
 Pearl. here's supper. 
 
 Martin. Beg pardon Miss. 
 
 Laura. What's the matter ? 
 
 Martin. There's a person below, Miss, who says he's been sent 
 with a bouquet for you. Miss, and must deliver it in person. 
 
 Laura. For me ? Whose servant is it ? 
 
 Martin. I don't know, Miss, he looks like one of those Soldier Mes- 
 sengers—red cap and all that. 
 
 Laura. Show him up here. 
 
 \^Exit Martin, d. 2 e. l. 
 
 Pearl. How romantic. So late at night. It's a rival in disguise, 
 Ray. 
 
 (Martin re-enters showing in Snorkey, with an air of disdain, Snor. 
 has a large bouquet in his hand, and his hat is under the stump of his 
 right arm, which is cut off.) 
 
 Laura. You wished to see me ? 
 Snorkey. (l. h.) Are you Miss Laura Coubtland ? 
 Laura. Yes. 
 
 Snorkey. Then I was told to give you this. 
 
 Laura. {Taking it from Ray, who has crossed l. c. and received it 
 from Snorkey. ) By whom ? 
 2 
 
UNDER THE GASLIGHT. 11 
 
 Snorkey. Now that's what I don't know myself! You see I was 
 down by the steps of the Fifth Avenue Hotel, taking- a light supper 
 off a small toothpick, when a big chap dressed in black came by, and 
 say's he : "Hallo, come with me if you want to earn a quarter." That 
 {confidentially to all) being- my very frame of mind, I went up one 
 street and down another, till we came here. " Just you take this up 
 there " says he, " and ask for Miss Lauba Courtland, and give it to 
 her and no one else.", 
 
 Laura. Itis some folly of our late visitors. 
 
 Snorkey. I'm one of the Soldier Messengers, Miss. We take to it 
 very well, considering we had so little running in Uncle Sam's 
 service. 
 
 Ray. {As Snor. is going l.) Stop a moment, my man. Were you 
 not one of the Twenty-second's recruits. 
 
 Snorkey. Yes, Captain ; I remember you joined us in New York, 
 and left us at Washington. Real fighting wasn't funny you thought, 
 and I began to think so too at Fredericksburg. 
 
 Ray. Poor devil. 
 
 Snorkey. There was a South Carolina gentleman took such a 
 fancy to me at Fredericksburg ! Wouldn't have no denial, — cut off my 
 arm to remember me by; he was very fond of me. I wasn't any use to 
 Uncle Sam then, so I came home, put a red band round my blue cap, 
 and with my empty sleeve, as a character from my last place, set 
 up for light porter and general messenger. All orders executed with 
 neatness and dispatch. 
 
 Pearl. And Uncle Sam has forgotten you. 
 
 Snorkey. Ah! Miss, don't blame Uncle Sam for tiiat, he's got such 
 a big family to look after, I can't find fault if he don't happen to 
 remember all us poor stumps of fellows. 
 
 Ray. (l. h.) So it seems. 
 
 Laura, (c.) (Pearl takes bouquet.) Poor fellow! {To servant.) 
 Martin, be sure and give him a glass of wine before he goes, 
 
 Snorkey. (l. c.) Pm much obliged, Miss — but I don't think it 
 would be good for me on an empty stomach — after fasting- all day, 
 
 Laura. Well, Martin shall find you some supper, too. 
 
 Snorkey. Is this Martin ? What a nice young man. Mayn't he 
 have a drop of something, too ? He must have caught cold letting 
 me in, he has got such a dreadful stiffness in the back of his neck. 
 
 [Martin exit. 
 
 Ray. {Giving penciled address.) Call on me at this place to-mor- 
 row, and you shan't regret it. 
 
 Snorkey. All right, Gap'n ! I havn't forgot the Army Regulations 
 about punctuality and promotion. Ladies, if ever either of you 
 should want a Light Porter, think of Joe Snorkey — wages no objec- 
 tion. [Exit L. H. door. 
 
 Pearl, (c.) {Who has been examiiiing the bouquet.) 1 Laura, 
 only look — here's a billet-doux ! 
 
 Ray. Nonsense! Crazy head! Who would dare {takes bouquet) 
 — a letter ! ( Takes a paper from bouquet.) 
 
 Laura. A letter ? 
 
 Pearl. I am crazy — am I ? 
 
 Ray. {Reads superscription.) "For Miss Laura Courtland. Con- 
 fidential." 
 
 Laura. {Laughs.) Ha ! Ha ! from some goose who has made one 
 call too many to-day. Read it, Ray — (Offering letter.) 
 
 Ray. "Dear Laura {Refusing the letter, and going to Pearl.) 
 
UNDER THE GASLIGHT. 13 
 
 Laura. (Looks at it a moment, when the whole expression of face 
 changes. Then reads slowly and deliberately. Ray doxim r. c. with 
 Pearl.) " I respectfully beg you to grant me the favor of an interview 
 to-night. 1 ha\:ie waited until your compiany retired. I am waiting 
 across the street, now.^' 
 
 Pearl. {Runs to windoiv.) A tall man in black is just walking 
 away. 
 
 Laura. '' If you will ham the door opened as soon as yon get this, I 
 ivill step over ; if you don't, I ivill ring ; under all circumstances J will 
 get in. There is no need to sign my name ; you will remember me as 
 the strange man ivhom you once saw talking ivith your mother in the par- 
 lor, and who frightened you so much.'" Wliat can be the meaning of 
 this ? — Pearl — no — {goes to bell on table l. h., and rings.) 
 
 Ray. Laura, you — 
 
 Laura. Ask me nothing. I will tell you by-and-bye. 
 
 '[Enter Martin, l. door 
 
 Martin. Missit 
 
 Laura. Admit no one till you bring me the name. 
 
 Martin. I was about to tell you, Miss, that a strange man has 
 forced himself in at the door and asks to see you, but will give no 
 name. 
 
 Ray. Kick the rascal out ! \_Cross to l. 
 
 Pearl. Oh ! don't let him come here. 
 
 Martin. He's a very strange-looking person. Miss. 
 
 Ray. I'll find out what this means 1 {Is going to door l., xchen Byke 
 appears at it smiling and bowing.) 
 
 Byke. (l. h.) I'll spare you the trouble, if you'll hear me a 
 minute. 
 
 Ray. (l. c.) {violently) Who are you, fellow ? 
 
 Byke. Don't, I beg of you. Don't speak so crossly ; I might 
 answer back — then you'd kick me out — and you'd never forgive 
 yourself for it as long as I lived. 
 
 Ray. Your business ? Come ! Speak quickly and begone. 
 
 Byke. {Coming doicn l.) Business 1 on this happy day ! I came 
 
 for pleasure — to see Miss Courtland, my little pupil grown 
 
 so only think, sir ! I knew her when she was only a little child. 
 
 I taught her music — she was so musical — and so beautiful 1 
 
 adored her, and her mother told me I needn't come again — But I did 
 — and her mother was glad to see me. Wasn't she, little pupil ? — 
 {to Laura, who is pale ivith terror, leaning on Pearl. Ray c, Byke l.) 
 — and begged me to stay — but I said no — Pd call occasionally — to 
 see my dear little pupil, and to receive any trifling contribution her 
 mother might give me. Won't you shake hands, little pupil ? {Ad- 
 vances suddenly, when Ray grai^ps him by the collar — Byke glares at him 
 a moment. Then quickly, as before.) Don't 1 please, don't 1 The 
 stuff is old, and Pve no other. 
 
 Ray. The fellow's drunk! Leave the house! 
 
 Byke. What! after sending that touching bouquet ? 
 
 Laura. It was you, then ? I knew it. 
 
 Byke. You see she knows me. Ah! memory how it blooms again 
 where the plough of time has passed. 
 
 Laura. Leave this house at once. 
 
 Byke. Not until I have spoken with you. 
 
 Ray. {Seizing him.) You miserable rascal. 
 
UNDER THE GASLIGHT. 15 
 
 Byke. Don't, pray don't ! I weigh a hundred and ninety eight 
 pounds, and if you attempt to throw me about you'll strain yourself. 
 Laura. (Crossiuf/.) Go. To-morrow in the morning I will see 
 
 you. 
 
 Byke. Thanks 1 I thank you, Miss, for your forbearance. (lb Ray.) 
 I am also obliged to you sir, for not throwing me out at the window. 
 I am indeed. I wish you good night, and many happy returns of 
 the day. (Bows, and turns to go. Then familiarly to servant.) Many 
 calls to-day, John ? [Exit l. 
 
 Ray. {Runs to Laura, who is pale.) 
 Laura. (Pointing after Byke.) See that he goes. 
 
 [Exit Ray, l. door. 
 
 Laura. ( Taking both of Pearl's hands in her oivn.) Pearl, he must 
 know everything. 
 
 Pearl. 6, dear! this is dreadful! I do hate scenes. 
 
 Laura. He must know everything, I tell you ; and you must relate 
 all. He will question — he will ponder — leave him nothing to ask. 
 
 Pearl. If you wish it, but — 
 
 Laura. I desire it ; speak of me as you will — but tell him the truth. 
 (Ray enters hastily, l.) Stay with her. Don't follow me. 
 
 [Exit r. 
 
 Ray. (Down, r. h.) Pearl, What does this mean. 
 
 Pearl. 0, its only a little cloud that I want to clear up for you. 
 
 Ray. Cloud — how ? where ? 
 
 Pearl. Don't I tell you Pm going to tell you. Sit down here by 
 me. (She sinks into tete-a-tete, c.) 
 
 Ray. (Promenading.) He said he knew her. And she gave him 
 an interview for to-morrow. That drunken wretch — 
 
 Pearl. Do sit down. I can never speak while you are walking 
 about so. (Gets up, brings him to chair, r. h. and makes him sit.) Sit 
 by me, won't you ? for Pve got something strange to tell you. 
 
 Ray. Yoio serious ! Pd as soon expect to see the lightning tamed. 
 Well, I listen. 
 
 Pearl I have something to say to you, Ray, which you must settle 
 with your own heart. You love Laura, do you not? 
 
 Ray. Pearl I do more, I adore her. I adore the very air that she 
 breathes I will never be happy without her. I can swear that. 
 
 Pearl. Laura is twenty now. How do you thiuk she looked when 
 I first saw her ? 
 
 Ray. Were you at home when she first came into this earthly 
 sphere ? 
 
 Pearl. Yes. 
 
 Ray. Well then I suppose she looked very small and very pink. 
 
 Pearl. She was covered with rags, barefooted, unkempt, crying 
 and six years old. 
 
 Ray. (Shocked.) Explain. 
 
 Pearl. One night father and mother were going to the Opera. 
 When they were crossing Broadway, the usual crowd of children 
 accosted them for alms. As mother felt in her pocket for some 
 change, her fingers touched a cold and trembling hand which had 
 clutched her purse. 
 
 Ray. a pickpocket ! Well. 
 
 Pearl. This hand my mother grasped in 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. 
 
UNDER THE GASLICxHT, 17 
 
 Peakl Yes, but a thief hardly six years old, with a face like an 
 angel's. "Stopl" said my mother. "What are you doing ?" "Trying to 
 steal," said the child. " Don't 3'ou know that it's wicked to do so ? " 
 asked my father. " No" said the girl, "but it's dreadful to be hun- 
 gry." "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 I But how does this story inter- 
 est 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 per- 
 suaded father, and the girl was sent to a country clergyman's for in- 
 struction, and there she remained for several years. 
 
 Ray. Pearl, your 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 up.) Laura, an outcast — a thief 1 
 
 Pearl {Bisivg.) 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 put- 
 ting money into his pocket as he left. 
 
 Ray. But who were they ? 
 
 Pearl. Lacra 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. 
 
 [Goes off K. still looking lack at him. 
 Ray. {Starting up.) What a frightful story. Laura Oourtland 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 1 she 
 knows of course that I cannot wed her now ! {Goes to the table l. u. e.) 
 Here is paper. {Sits.) AVhat am I about to do ? What will be said 
 of me ? But I owe a duty to myself— to society— I must perform it. 
 ( Writes. ) " Laura, / have heard of all from your sister." What have 
 I said— {crosses out last word)—" from Pearl. You know that Hove you, 
 but my mother tcill demand of me a wife who will not blush to own her 
 3 
 
UNDER THE GASLIGHT. 19 
 
 kindred, and ivho is not the daughter of obscurity and crime.'" It is just ; 
 it is I who have been deceived. {Folds letter and addresses it ) I will 
 leave it for her. {Pids on light overcoat, ivhich hangs on chair at hack). 
 I must g-o befVtre she returns. Her step — too late ! ( Crams the let- 
 ter into pocket of overcoat. Laura enter- r. h.) 
 
 Laura. [Gently.) Ray. 
 
 Ray. Miss — Miss Courtland. (Laura luoka at him a moment, smiles, 
 and then crosses c. without further noticing him, and sits down on tete-Or 
 tete.) What have I said ? What ouijht I to have said ? {He takes 
 a step towards her — she rises, without looking at him goes to window — 
 looks out, then looks over books on table r. h. 
 
 Ray. Laura — 1 — 
 
 Laura. Pshaw, where is my book ? 
 
 Ray. What book do j'ou want, Laura ? 
 
 Laura. Sir. 
 
 Ray {repulsed). Oh! — {pause) — I've been a fool. How lovely she 
 looks. {He follows her mechanically to table l.) Can I find it for you ? 
 [LwRA 2ncks up a book and reseats herself c. 
 
 Laura Don't trouble yourself, I beg, 
 
 Ray. {Coming forward and leaning over her seat.) Laura. 
 
 Laura. ( Without lifting her head ) Well. 
 
 Ray. {Toying ifith her hair.) Look at me. 
 
 Laura {Turns round and looks full at him.) 
 
 Ray. No, no, not that way ; as you used to. You act as if I were 
 a stranger. 
 
 Laura. They are only strangers who call me Miss Courtland. {Be- 
 sumes reading. ) 
 
 Ray. Forgive me, I beg you to forgive me. ( Coming round and 
 sitting beside her.) I was mad — it was so sudden — this miserable 
 story — but I don't care what they say. 1 do listen to me. I 
 thought you hated reading. 
 
 Laura. I often wish that I were ugly, wretched, and repulsive like 
 the heroine in this story. {Seats herself.) 
 
 Ray. {Behind her.) Why? 
 
 Laura. Because then I could tell who really loved me. 
 
 Ray. And don't you know ? 
 
 Laura. No ; I do not. 
 
 Ray. Well, I know. 
 
 Laura. Do tell me then, please. 
 
 Ray. He has told you so himself, a hundred times. 
 
 Laura. You. 
 
 Ray. I. 
 
 Laura. {Laughing heartily at him, then seriously.) How happy 
 must those women be, who are poor and friendless and plain, when 
 some true heart comes and says : I wish to marry you ? 
 
 Ray. Laura you act very strangely to-night. 
 
 Laura. AVill you put this book away ? 
 
 Ray. {Throws it on table.) There Laura. {Seats himself beside her.) 
 
 Laura. {Rising.) Tliere's Pearl calling me. 
 
 Ray. {Rising and taking her hand.) Laura, why don't you let me 
 speak to you. 
 
 Laura. About what ? 
 
 Ray. About my love. 
 
 Laura. For whom ? Not me. This is only marriage and giving 
 in marriage. I hate the very word. 
 
UNDER THE GASLIGHT. 21 
 
 Ray. You did not think so once. 
 
 Laura. I wish I had. I am frightened now, I begin to understand 
 myself better. 
 
 Ray. And I am frightened because I understand you less. 
 
 Laura. Do not try to ; good night. ( Up R. c stops by door as she is 
 going out,) good night Mr. Trafford. 
 
 (Exit laughing, r. 2 e.) 
 
 Ray. I've been an ass. No, I wrong that noble animal. The ass 
 reco"-nized the angel, and I, like Balaam, was blind. But I see now. 
 After all what have I to fear. {Takes letter from pocket.) No one 
 knows of this, {puts it in his pocket again.) Let things go on ; we'll 
 be married, go straight to Europe, and live there ten years. That's 
 
 the way we'll fix it. , ■ \ 
 
 {Exit L. 2 E. Scene closec m.) 
 
 SCENE II. {1st Grooves.) — The Gentlemen's coat-room at Delmonico's 
 opening {c.) for hat and coat. Chairs {h. h.) Pier-glass on 
 fat. 
 {Enter Windle and Demilt muffled, and loiih umbrellas l. 2 e. theij 
 proceed to disrobe.) 
 
 Dm. Phew ! wet as the deuce, and cold, too. There'll be nobody 
 
 here. 
 
 Wind. Its an awful night. The rooms are almost empty. 
 
 Deji. Sam ! Where the dickens is that darkey ? {Enter Sam r. fetch- 
 ing in a chair, and boot black, box and brush. 
 
 Sam. Here, sah. 
 
 Dem. {Sitting in chair.) Hurry up with my boots. Who's here ? 
 
 Sam. Berry few gemman, sah; only lebben overcoats and ten over- 
 shoes. Bless de Lord — dem obershoes is spilin the polishin business. 
 
 Dem. Look out and don't give me any knocks. 
 
 Wind. {^Handing in his coat at tvindoio and getting check for it.) I 
 wonder if the Courtland girls have come yet. 
 
 Dem. What did Laura Courtland ever see in Tkafford to fall in 
 love with ? The Van Dam party is my fancy. 
 
 Wind. {Brushing his hair at glass.) She's ten years older than 
 you, and has a husband. 
 
 Dem. Yes, a fine old banker, on whom she can draw for every- 
 thing but attention and affection. She has to get that by her 
 own business tact. 
 
 ( Other parties enter, exchange good-nights, and deposit their coais ; 
 some go out at once, some arrange themselves at glass.) 
 
 Dem. That'll do, Sam, take my coat. {Enter Ray, l. 1. e.) 
 
 Wind. Hallo! Trafford, this is a night, ain't it? Have the Court- 
 lands come ? 
 
 Ray. Not with me. Here, Sam, take my coat. {His coat is pulled 
 of by Sam, and four letters drop out.) Stupid. 
 
 Deal Save the pieces. Mind the love letters. 
 
 Ray. {Picking them up.) Look out well next time. There's that 
 cursed letter I was going to send to Laura. Confound it, I must 
 destroy it when I go home. {Puts letter's back in overcoat pocket.) 
 (Ray gets his boots touched up>.) 
 
 Dem. I say, Trafford, what'll you take, and let a fellow read 
 those ? WiNDEL, I guess if the girls could get into the cloak-room, 
 
UNDER THE GASLIGHT. 23 
 
 it woiild bo better tlVan the Dead-letter Office. What a time they'd 
 have! Are you ready ? 
 
 WiKD. Wliat's the use of hurrying- ? There's no life in the party 
 till Laura Courtland comes. By Jove, TraffordI you're in luck. 
 She's the prettiest girl in New York. 
 
 Ray. And the best {March music heard ) 
 
 Dem. There's the march music; let's go. {Gets a final brush as 
 they all go off a. 1. e.) 
 
 Kay Come along-. [Eoreunt. 
 
 Sam. {Picking up a letter dropped from Ray's pocket.) Dare's 
 anoder of dem billy dooses ; wonder if it am Mist' Trafford's. Eh, 
 golly! musn't mix dem gentlemen's letters, — musn't mix 'em nohow, 
 — or an oberruling providence wouldn't be able to stop fighting in 
 dis city for de nex month. 
 
 [Exit, carrying a chair, r. 1. e. 
 
 {Scene draws off^ to dance music.) 
 
 { Wait till change of music before change of Sc.) 
 
 SCENE III. — The Blue Boom at Delmonico's. Waltz-music as the 
 Scene opens. Waltzers in motion. Pearl is dancing 
 with Mrs. Van Dam. 
 
 {Enter Trafford, Demilt, and Windel, r. l. r. 
 
 Pearl. There's Ray. Pve had enough; I want to speak with him. 
 {Burds aicay from 3Irs Van D., runs up to Trafford Demilt goes up 
 to Mrs. Van D ) 
 
 Pearl. {To Ray.) You lazy fellow, where have you been? 
 
 Dem. You're not tired, are you ? 
 
 Mrs. V. D. I feel as fresh as a daisy. 
 
 Dem. Have a waltz with me. {Waltz music, piano, as they dance, 
 Windel goes to Sue Eaklie ) 
 
 Ray. {Coming doicn with Pearl.) Where's Laura ? 
 
 Pearl. She wasn't ready, and I was dying to come. Been fixed 
 since eight o'clock; so I came with Sue Earlie. So you made it up 
 with Laura. 
 
 Ray. Yes Don't say anything more about the horrid subject. 
 We've made it all up But what on earth keeps her to-night ? It's 
 eleven already. {Looking at watch ) Confound it, I tremble every 
 moment she's out of my sight. I fear that terrible man and his 
 secret. 
 
 Mrs. V.D. {Coining vp with Bkuilt.) Trafford, you look very 
 uneasy What's the matter ? 
 
 Ray. 0, nothing. I think I ought to go for Laura. I will, too. 
 {Servant passes at back.) Herel go up-stairs for my overcoat, {Gives 
 the man a card, and he goes out.) 
 
 Mrs. V. D. Nonsense! She'll be here in good time. You shan't 
 leave us. Hold him, Pearl. We want a nine-pin quadrille; we 
 haven't half enough gentlemen. Come, be jolly about it. You 
 lovers are always afraid some one will carry your girls away. 
 
 Ray. {Uneasy.) I? I'm not afraid. 
 
 Pearl. Come, come! I never saw such a restless fellow. 
 
 (Servant enters w/ith coal, c.) 
 
 Servant. Here's your coat, sir. 
 
 Mk9. Van D. Give it to me. I'm determined you shan't go. {Takes 
 
UNDER THE GASLIGHT. 25 
 
 coat carelessly ) I'll make you a promise — if Laura isn't here in fif- 
 teen minutes you shall have your coat, and may go for her. 
 
 Ray. AVell, I suppose I'll have to wait. 
 
 Mrs. Van D, There; take him oft', Pearl. (Ray goes up loith Pearl.) 
 To Servant ) Here, take tiiis back. {Flings coat to Servant. As 
 she does so, letters drop from it.) AV'ell, there's a mess! (Sue Earlie 
 and another lady run fortcard and. 2->ick ^tp letters.) Love letters, of 
 course! — {smelling them.) Perfumed to suffocation. 
 
 Sue Earlie. Here's one for Laura. It's unsealed and not delivered. 
 
 Mrs. Van D {Tremolo uultz mime.) A fair prize! Let's see 
 it, {Music. Takes and opens it. Puts on eye-glass and reads.) 
 "Laura"' — Well, come! That's cool for a lover. " P have heard all 
 
 from" something scratched out — ah! — "your sister, Pearl — 
 
 Your obscure origin — terrible family connexions — the secret of the tie 
 ivhich binds you to a drunken wretch — My mother, Society — xoill demand 
 of me a wife who will not blus\ to own her kindred, — or start at the 
 name of outcast and thief!'' Signed, 
 
 Ray Trafford. 
 
 {All stand speechless and look at each other. All this time the rest have 
 been dancing. ) 
 
 Sue Earlie. What can it mean ? 
 
 Mrs. Van D. It means that the rumors of ten years ago are proven. 
 It was then suspected that the girl whom Mrs. Courtland brought 
 every year from some unnamed place in the country, and introduced 
 to everybody as her niece, was an in)poster, which that foolish wo- 
 man, in a freak of generosity, was thrustiiig upon society. The ru- 
 mors died out for want of proof — and before Laura's beauty and 
 dignit}^ — but now they are confirmed. She is some beggar's child. 
 
 Sue Earlie. What do you think we ought to do ? (Trafford sur- 
 renders Pearl to Demilt, and comes down.) 
 
 Mrs. Van D. Tell it — tell it everywhere, of course. The best 
 blood of New York is insulted by that girl's presence. (Trafford 
 coming down.) 
 
 Ray. (r. h.) What have you three girls got your heads together 
 for ? — Some conspiracy, I know. 
 
 Mrs. Van D. {To ladies.) Go, girls — tell it everywhere. 
 
 Ray. {As the ladies distribute themselves about the groups.) What 
 is it all about ? Your face is like a portrait of mystery. 
 
 Mrs. Van D, {Sheunng letter.)* Look at this, and tell me what it 
 means. 
 
 Ray. ( Quickly.) Where did 3'ou get this ? 
 
 Mrs. Van D. It is you who must answer — and Society that will 
 question. So Laura is not a Courtland. 
 
 Ray. {Overcome ) You know, then 
 
 Mrs. Van D. Everything; and will you marry this creature 1 You 
 cannot. Society will not permit your sacrifice. 
 
 Ray. This is not j^our business. Give me that letter. 
 
 Mrs. Van D. Certainly; take it. But let me say one word, — its 
 contents are known. In an hour every tongue will question you 
 about this secret, — every eye will inquire. 
 
 Ray. I implore you! Do not breathe a word for her sake. {She 
 turns scornfully away.) 
 
 Mrs Van D. The secret's not mine . 
 
 Ray. Who knows it ? 
 4 
 
UNDER THE GASLIGHT. 27 
 
 Mrs. Van D, Look! {Points to others who are groiqoed about lohis- 
 pering and motioning toicards Kay. Pearl enters here e., and npeaks to 
 lady and gents l. c ) 
 
 Kay. {Wildly ) What will they do ? 
 
 Mrs. Van D. Expose herl Expel Lor from Society in which she is 
 au intruder! 
 
 Ray. You dare not I 
 
 [Pearl comes forward l. 
 
 Pearl. 0, Ray! What is the meaning of this ? 
 
 Ray. {Bitterly.) It means that Society is a terrible avenger of 
 insult. Have you ever heard of the Siberian wolves ? When one 
 of the pack falls through weakness, the others devour him. It is not 
 an elegant comparison — but there is something wolfish in society. 
 Ladra has mocked it with a pretence, and Society, which is made up 
 of pretences, will bitterly resent the mockery. 
 
 Mrs. Van D. Very good! This handsome thief has stolen your 
 breeding as well as your brains, I see 
 
 Ray. If you speak a word against hei', I will say that what you 
 utter is a lie! 
 
 Mrs. Van D. As you please, wc will be silent. But jow will find 
 that the world speaks most forcibly when it utters no sound. 
 
 Pearl. 0, go and prevent her coming here. 
 
 Ray. That I can do, {going up hastily, sees Laura entering at c. d.) 
 Too late, {he retreats n. c.) 
 
 Mrs. Van D. Gome girls ! Let us look after our things. They are 
 no longer safe when such an accomplished thief enters. 
 
 {Music low as Laura enters, continues while all excep)t Pearl a??^ Kay 
 pass out, eyeing her superciliously. Laura c. Pearl r.) 
 
 Pearl. Kay, Kay, why do you not come to her ? 
 
 Mrs. Van D. {Vp c. of stage, surrounded by others.) Are you not 
 coming with us Trafford. 
 
 Pearl. (To Laura.) Let us go home. 
 
 Laura. No ; stay with him. {pointing to Ray, ivho has held of.) 
 He shall not suffer the disgrace long ! {About to faint, Ray runs 
 forward, she proudly leaves him away.) It is Heaven's own blow. 
 
 Picture — Quick Curtain. 
 B. Ray, Laura and Pearl, c. Party at back. 
 
ACT II. 
 
 {Green Cloth down.) 
 SCENE I.— Interior of a Basement. Street and railings seen through 
 window at hack. Entrance to f. from d. f. l. h. Stove 
 with long pipe in fire-place, r. u. e Table between two win. 
 doivs at back, xoith flowers, &c. E amble furniture. Table 
 c. three chairs. Closet u. e. l, h. 
 
 Peachblossom is discovered polishing stove r. h. — a slip-shod girl a 
 la Fanchon. 
 
 SONG— Peach : 
 
 A lordly knight and a lovely dame, were walking in the meadow, 
 
 But a jealous rival creeping came a-watching in the shadow; 
 
 They heeded not, hut he wliet his knife and dogg'd them in the shadow. 
 
 The knight was brave, and the dame was true, the rival fared but badly ; 
 
 For the knight he drew and ran him through, and left him groaning sadly; 
 
 The knight and dame soon wedded were, with bells a-chimiug gladly. 
 
 Peach. {Talking while working.) The stove won't shine. It's the 
 fault of the polish I know. That boy that comes here, just fills the 
 bottles with mud, and calls it stove polish. Only let me catch him, 
 Ah! Ah! [threatning gesture with brush.) I declare I'd give it up if 
 I didn't want to make everything look smart, before Miss Nina comes 
 in. Miss Nina is the only friend I ever had, since I ran away from 
 Mother Judas I wonder where old Judas is now ? I know she's drunk; 
 she always was; perhaps that's why she never tried to find out what 
 became of me. If she did she could not take me away. Miss Nina 
 begged me oif a policeman. I belong to her. I wonder why she ain't 
 got any other friends? She's awful mysterious. Tells me never to let 
 any strangers see her. She's afraid of somebody, I know. It looks 
 just as if she was hiding. I thought only bad girls, such as I, had to 
 hide. If I was good and pretty like her, I wouldn't hide from the 
 President. [Still polishing.) {J vdxs appears at window with basket of 
 ornaments, &c. 
 
 Judas. Hum! Is your ma in my dear. 
 
 Peach. {Starting.] Oh! {aside.) Old Judas! She's found me out 
 at last. No she h'aint, or she'd have got me by the hair before she 
 spoke. That's her way. 
 
 Judas. ( Coming in at door. Peach ke^s her back towards her.) Any 
 
UNDER THE GASLIGHT. 31 
 
 old clothes to change for chany, my dear ? Where's your ma's old 
 skirts and shawls, my pet. Get 'em quick before mother comes in, 
 and I'll give you a beautiful chany mug or a tea-pot ior them. Come 
 here my ducky — see the pretty — {recognizes Peach.) Eh! why you 
 jail-bird, what are you doing here ? Are you sneakin' it ? Answer 
 me, or I'll knock your head agin the wall [Catches her by the hair.) 
 
 Peach. You just leave me be! Pm honest, I am! Pm good. 
 
 Judas. You're good? Where's my shoe. Pll take the goodness out 
 of you. 
 
 Peach. Oh, oh ! please don't beat me. I ain't good Pm only 
 trying to be. 
 
 Judas. Your only trying to be, eh ? Trying to be good, and here's 
 me as was a-weeping every night, thinking as you was sent up for 
 six months. Who're yoii living with — you ain't a-keeping house, are 
 you? 
 
 Peach. Pm living with Miss Nina. 
 
 Judas. Nina, what's she, concert-saloon girl ? 
 
 Peach. No, she's a lady. 
 
 Judas. A lady — and have such baggage as you about. Where's 
 my shoe, Pll make you speak the truth. 
 
 Peach. I don't know what she is. She met me when the police 
 was taking me up for loafin' down Hudson Street, and she begged 
 me off. 
 
 Judas. Has she any money ? 
 
 Peach. No, she's poor. 
 
 Judas Any nice clothes ? 
 
 Peach. 0, she's got good clothes. 
 
 Judas. Where are they ? 
 
 Peach. Locked up, and she's got the key. 
 
 Judas. You're lying, I see it in your eye. You're always shame- 
 faced when you are telling the truth, and now you're as bold as 
 brass. Where's my shoe ? {making a dash at her). 
 
 Peach {shouting.) There's Miss Nina {as if curtseying to some one 
 hehind Judas) Good morning, miss. 
 
 Judas. {Changing her tone.) Ah! my pretty dear ! What a good 
 lady to take you in and give you a home. {Turns and discovers the 
 deception — m a rage.) You hussy, (Peach retreats) wait till I get you 
 in my clutches again, my lady; and it won't be long. Miss Nina 
 takes care of you, does she. Who will take care of her ? Let her 
 look to it. (Laura enters d. f. p)^o.inly dressed, at hack). Beg pardon. 
 Miss, I just called to see if you had any old clothes you'd like to 
 exchange. 
 
 Laura. No, I don't want anything, my guod woman. 
 
 Judas. {Eyeing her sharply and going to door.) That's her — Pd 
 know her anywheres ! [3falicious glance, and exit d. f. 
 
 Laura. You've been very good this morning. Blossom. The room 
 is as nice as I could wish. 
 
 Peach. Please 'm, I tried because you are so good to me. (Laura 
 taking off her shawl and things.) Shall I sweep out the airy ? [Laura 
 does not ansicer. ] I guess Pd better — then she'll be alone, as she 
 loves to be. [Takes broom and exit, d. f. 
 
 Laura. {Solus. Opening a package and taking out photographs) No 
 pay yet for coloring, 'till I have practiced a week longer. TLien I 
 shall have all the work I can do. They say at the Photographers I 
 color well, and the best pictures will be given me. The best I 
 
UNDER THE GASLIGHT. 33 
 
 Already I have had beneath my brush so many faces that I know, 
 friends of the old days. The silent eyes seem to wonder at rae for 
 bringing them to this strange and lowly home. {Picking up letters 
 from table.) Letters ; ah ! answers to m}^ advertisement for employ- 
 ment. No, only a circular " To the lady of this house." What's that ! 
 (Starting) only Blossom sweeping. Every time there is a noise I dread 
 the entrance of some one that knows me. But they could never find 
 me in New York, I left them all too secretly and suddenly. None of 
 them can suspect I would have descended to this. But it is natural, 
 everything will find its level. I sprang from poverty, and I return 
 to it. Poor Pearl. How she must have wondered the next morn- 
 ing — Laura gone ? But three months have passed, and they have for- 
 gotten rae. Ray will cheer her. [ Wra,ngling outside, Peachblossom 
 hursts in dragging Bermudas, loith his professional tape, pins, blacking 
 and baskets, d. f. 
 
 Peach. Here he is m'm. 
 
 Ber Leave go, I tell yer, or I'll make yer. 
 
 Laura. What is the matter ? 
 
 Peach. He's the boy that sold me that stove polish what isn't stove 
 polish. 
 
 Ber. What is it tlien — s-a-a-y? 
 
 Peach. Its mud! its mud at tenpence a bottle. 
 
 Ber. Ah 1 Where could I get mud ? Ain't the streets clean ? 
 Mud's dearer than stove-polish now. 
 
 Peach And youi- matches is wet, and your pins won't stick, and 
 your shoe-strings is rotten, there now! 
 
 Ber. Well, how am I to live ; it ain't my fault, it's the taxes. Ain't 
 I got to pay my income tax, and how am I to pay it if I gives you 
 your money's worth ? Do you think I'm Stewart. — Sa-a-y ? 
 
 Laura. Do let the boy alone. Blossom. Send him away. {E7iter 
 Peanuts at door fat. ) 
 
 Peanuts. Extra! Hollo, Bermudas! bow's your sister? Papers 
 Miss. Extra ! Revolution in Mexico ! 
 
 Laura. Dear, dear, this is the way I'm worried from morning till 
 night. 
 
 Ber. Here, just you get out! This is my beat. 
 
 Peanuts. Veil, I ain't blacking or hairpins now, I'm papers — 
 How'm I hurting you ? 
 
 Ber. Veil, I'm papers at four o'clock, and this is my beat. Take 
 care of me, I'm in training for a fight. I'm a bruiser, I am. 
 
 Peanuts. Hold yer jaw. {They fight.) 
 
 Peach. {Beats them with broom.) Get out with you. Both of you. 
 
 [Grand escapade and exit of boys. d. f. 
 
 Laura, Don't let me be troubled in this way again. Have you got 
 the things for dinner ? 
 
 Peach. Lor, no, miss I It's tAvelve o'clock, and I forgot 1 
 
 (Peach gets shawl, big bonnet from hooks on the tvall, basket from 
 closet, lohile Laura opens her pocket-book for money.) 
 
 L.\.uRA. What did we have for dinner yesterday. Blossom ? 
 
 Peach. Beefsteak, 'm. Let's have some leg o'mutton to-day. We've 
 never had that. 
 
 Laura. But I don't know how to cook it. Do you ? 
 
 Peach. No, but I'd just slap it on, and it's sure to come out right. 
 
 Laura. Slap it on what ? 
 
 Peach. The gridiron. 
 5 
 
UNDER THE GASLIGHT. 35 
 
 Laura. {Giving money.) No, we'd better not try a leg of mutton 
 to-day. Get some lamb cliops, we know how to manage them. 
 
 Peach. (As she is going.) Taters as usual, 'mum ? 
 
 Laura. Yes; and, stop Blossom — while you're buying the chops, just 
 ask the butclier — oflf hand — you know — how he would cook a le"- 
 of mutton, if he were going to eat it himself !— as if you wanted to 
 know for yourself. 
 
 Peach. Yes'm— but I'm sure it's just as good broiled as fried. 
 
 [Exit D. F. 
 
 Laura. Now to be cook. (Laughing.) " The Tuesday Sociable" 
 ought to see me now. Artist in the morning, cook at noon, artist in 
 the afternoon. \Snorkey raps at door f. and enters.) 
 
 Snorkey. (With letter.) Beg pardon, is there anybody here as 
 answers to the name of A. B. C ? 
 
 Laura. i^Aside.) My advertisement for work. — Yes, give it to me 
 
 Snorkey. {Seeing her face.) If Pd been taking something this 
 morning, Pd say that Pd seen that face in a different sort of place 
 irom this. 
 
 Laura, Is there anything to pay. Why do you wait "^ 
 
 Snorkey. Nothing, Miss. It's all right. (Going— and aside) 
 But It ain t all right, Snorkey, old boy 1 ( Goes out after looking at her 
 stops at window, and gazes in.) ' 
 
 Laura. (Without noticing him, opening letter.) Yes, an answer to 
 my advertisement. (Brads.) To A. B. G. : ''Your advertisement prom- 
 ises that tjou are a good linguist, and can teach children of any age I 
 have two daughters for whom I desire to engage your services while on a 
 tour of Europe. Gall at seven o'clock, this evening at No. 207 W Mth 
 Street. Annersley."— Hope at last— a home, and in another' land 
 soon. I was sure the clouds would not always be black above me ' 
 {Kisses letter. Snorkey re-entering.) 
 
 Snorkey. Miss, I say Miss. (Laura starts.)— ^\\ 
 
 Laura. What do you want ? 
 
 Snorkey Only one word— and perhaps it may be of service to 
 you. Pd do anything to serve you. 
 
 Laura. And why me ? 
 
 Snorkey I'm a blunt fellow, Miss, but I hope my way don't off-end 
 Am t you the lady that I biought a bouquet to on New Year's night— 
 not here, but in a big house, all bright and rich— and who was so 
 kind to a poor soldier ? 
 
 Laura. (Faint and leaning against chair.) Whoever you mav be 
 promise to tell no one you saw me here. ' 
 
 Snorkey. No fear Miss 1 I promise. 
 
 Laura. Sacredly ! 
 
 Snorkey No need to do more than promise. Miss— I keeps my word 
 I promised Uncle Sam Pd stick to the flag-though they tire my 
 arm off" and by darnation I stuck. I don't want to tell on vou 
 Miss. 1 want to tell on some one else. 
 
 Laura. What do you mean ? 
 
 Snorkey. They're looking for you. 
 
 Laura. Who ? 
 
 Snorkey. Byke ! (Laura idters a loud cry and sinks on chair ) He's 
 on it day and night. I've got his money in my pocket now and 
 you've got his letter m your hand this minute. 
 
 Laura drops ike letter in dismay.) 
 
UNDER THE GASLIGHT. 
 
 37 
 
 Laura. This ? , n , -^o t ji 
 
 Snorkey. Yes, it's his writin'— looks like a woman's, don't it i Lord I 
 the snuff that man's up to, would make Barnum sneeze his head off. 
 He's kept me in hand, 'cause he tliinks I know you, having seen you 
 that once. Every day he reads the advertisements, and picks out a 
 dozen or so and says to me : " Snorkey, that's like my little pet," 
 and then he sits down and answers them, and gets the advertisers to 
 make appointments with him, which he keeps regularly, and regu- 
 larly comes back cussing at his ill luck. See here Miss, I've a 
 bundle of answers to deliver, as usual, to advertisers. _ I calls 'em 
 Byke's Target Practice, and this time, you see, he's accidentally hit 
 
 the mark. , . , t, 
 
 Laura, For Heaven's sake do not betray me to hnn! I've got very 
 
 little money, I earn it hardly; but take it, take it — and save me. (0/"- 
 
 fersmionhij.) i -i j 
 
 Snorkey. No, Miss; not a cent of it Though Byke is a devil, and 
 
 would kick me hard if he thought I would betray him. 
 
 Laura. I don't want you to suffer for my sake, take the money. 
 Snorkey. No, I stood up to be shot at for thirteen dollars a month, 
 and I can take my chances of a kickin' for nothing. But Byke ain't 
 the only one Miss, there's another's looking for you. 
 
 Laura. {Her look of joy changing to fear.) Another! Who? 
 Snorkey. {Approaching smiling and confidential.) Mr. Trafford. 
 (Laura turns aside desparingly.) He's been at me every day for more 
 than six weeks, " Snorkey" says he, " do you remember that beautiful 
 young iady, you brought the bouquet to on New Year's night?" 
 " Well," says I Capt'n, the young lady I slightly disremember, but the 
 cakes and wine I got there that night I shall never forget." " Search 
 for that young lady" says he, "and when you find her"— 
 
 Laura. No, no, no; not even he must know. Do you hear — not he 
 
 not anyone. You have served them well; serve me and be silent. 
 
 Snorkey. Just as you please, Miss, but I hate to serve you by 
 putting your friends off the track — it don't seem natural — Byke I don't 
 mind; but the Capt'n he wouldn't do you any harm. Just let me give 
 him a bit of a hint. (Laura makes an entreating gesture.) Well I'm 
 mum, but as I've only got one hand, its hard work to hold my 
 tongue. {Going.) Not the least bit of a hint. (Laura appealingly and 
 then turns away.) They say when a woman says no, she means yesl I 
 wonder if 1 dare tell her that he's not far off. Perhaps Pd better not. 
 But I can tell him. {Exit d. f.) 
 
 Laura. How shall I ever escape that dreadful man. And Ray 
 searching for me too I Our friends then remember us as well as ©ur 
 enemies. (Peachblossom enters quickly d. f. shutting the door behind her, 
 with basket which she places on table c.) 
 
 Peach. 0, Miss Nina, whatever is into the people. There's a 
 strange man coming down the entry. I heard him asking that red 
 cap fellow about you. 
 
 Laura. Byke! Fasten the door quick, (Peach runs to door, it is 
 slightly opened, she pushes it against some one on the other side.) 
 
 Peach. dearl He's powerful strong, I can't keep it shut. Go 
 away you willin! Ohl {The door is forced and Ray enters.) 
 Ray. {Advancing c.) Laura — It is I. 
 Laura, (r. h.) Ray 1 {Shrinks from him) 
 
 Ray. Dear Laura I {He stops as he becomes conscious that Blossom 
 with her basket on her arm and her bonnet hanging on her back is staring 
 
UNDER THE GASLIGHT. 39 
 
 at him.) I say, my girl, havn't you some particular business some- 
 where else to attend to. 
 
 Peach. {Seriously, l. h.) No, sir ; I've swept the sidewalk and 
 gone a marketing, and now I'm in doors and I mean to stay. 
 
 Kay. And wouldn't you oblige me by going for a sheet of paper 
 and an envelope. Here's a dollar— try and see how slow you can be. 
 
 Peach. {Firmly.) You can't sheet of paper me, mister ; I'm pro- 
 tecting Miss Nina, and Pm not to be enveloped. 
 
 Lauka. Go as the gentleman asks you, Blossom. 
 
 Peach. Oh ! {Takes money, fixes her bonnet.) First its " Keep the man 
 out," now its " Let him stay in alone with me." But I suppose she's 
 like all of us— it makes a great dificrence wliich man it is. 
 
 [Exit D. F. 
 
 Ray. {After watching Peach out.) Laura, when I approached you, 
 you shrank from me. Why did you so ? 
 
 Laura Look around you and find your answer 
 
 Ray. {Shuddering.) Pardon me, I did not come here to insult your 
 misery. When I saw you I forgot everything else. 
 
 Laura, (r. c.) And now its time for us to remember everything. 
 I told you to look around that you might understand that in such a 
 place I am no longer Laura Courtland, nor anything I used to be. 
 But I did not ask your pity. There is no misery here. 
 
 Ray. Alone, without means, exposed to every rudeness, unpro- 
 tected, is this not misery for you ? 
 
 Laura. {Laughing.) Oh, it's not so bad as that. 
 
 Ray. Laura, don't trifle witli me. You can not have exchanged 
 everything that made you happy, for this squalid poverty, and not 
 
 feel it deeply. 
 
 Laura. I have not time to feel anything deeply. {Takes basket up 
 goes to table, busies herself about preparing dinner.) I work from sun- 
 rise till nio-ht, and I sleep so soundly that I have not even dreams to 
 recall the past. Just as you came in I was about to cook our din- 
 ner. Only think — lamb chops I 
 
 Ray. Lamb chops 1 It makes me shudder to hear you speak. 
 
 Laura. Does it. Then wait till I get the gridiron on the fire, and 
 you'll shiver. And if you want to be transfixed with horror, stop and 
 take dinner. 
 
 Ray. I will not hear you mock yourself thus, Laura. I tell you in 
 this self-banishment you have acted thoughtlessly— you have done 
 
 wrong. 
 
 Laura. Why ? 
 
 Ray. Because, let the miserable creatures who slandered you say 
 what they might, you had still a home and friends. 
 
 Laura A home ! Where the very servants would whisper and 
 point. Friends who would be ashamed to acknowledge me. You 
 are mistaken. That is neither home nor friendship. 
 
 Ray. And you are resolved to surrender the past forever. 
 
 Laura. The past has forgotten me in spite of myself. 
 
 Ray. Look at me. 
 
 Laura. {Coming down c.) Well then, there's one who has not for- 
 gotten me, but I desire that he may. You speak to me of bitterness 
 Your presence, your words, cause me the first pang I have felt since 
 the night I fled unnoticed from my chamber, and began my life 
 anew. Therefore I entreat you to leave me, to forget me. 
 
 Ray. Laura, by the tie that once bound us I — 
 
UNDER THE GASLICxHT. 41 
 
 Laura {Going vp.) Yes, once. It is a lono; time ago. 
 Kay. What have I said? — the tie which still — 
 Laura. {Sharply, turning.) Mr. Trafford, must I remind you of 
 that night when all arrayed themselves so pitilessly against me ? 
 AVhen a gesture from you might have saved me! And you saw me sink 
 without stretching a finger to the woman who had felt the beating of 
 your heart. No, you made your choice then — the world without me. 
 I make my choice now — the wide, wide, world without you. 
 
 Ray. I have been bitterly punished, for we are never so humiliated 
 as when we despise ourselves. But, by the Heaven above us both, 
 I love you Laura, I have never ceased to love you. 
 
 Laura. I thank you. I know how to construe the love which you 
 deny in the face of society, to offer me behind its back. 
 
 Ray. Will you drive me mad! I tell you Laura, your misery, your 
 solitude, is as nothing to the anguish I have suffered The maniac 
 wlio in his mental darkness stabs to the heart the friend he loved, 
 never felt in returning reason the remorse my error has earned me. 
 Every day it says tome. "You have been false to the heart that 
 loved you, and you shall account for it to your conscience all your 
 life. You shall find that the bitterest drops in the cup of sorrow, are 
 the tears of the woman you have forsaken." And it is true, 0, for- 
 give me — have pity on me. 
 
 Laura. {Moved.) I forgive you. Yes, and I pity you — and so 
 good-by, forever. 
 
 Ray. Of course 1 am nothing to you now. That is some comfort 
 to me. I have only to be sorry on my own account. But I come to 
 you on behalf of others, 
 Laura. Whom ? 
 
 Ray. My mother and Pearl. They ask for you. For them I have 
 sought you, to urge you to return to them. 
 Laura. Dear little Pearl. 
 Ray. Yes, she has been quite ill. 
 Laura. She has been ill ? 
 
 Kay. Think of those two hearts which you have caused to suffer 
 and do not drive me from you. It is not only wealth, luxury and re- 
 finement which you have surrendered — you have also cast away those 
 greater riches: loving and devoted friends. But they shall persuade 
 you themselves. Yes, I'll go and bring them to you, you cannot re- 
 sist their entreaties. 
 
 Laura. No, no, they must not come here. They must never know 
 where I hide my shame, and you must never reveal it. 
 
 Ray. I promise it, if you will go to them with me. Think, they 
 will insist on coming unless you do. 
 
 Laura. Poor Pearl! If I go with you, you promise not to detain 
 me — to permit me to come back, and to trouble me and my poor life 
 no more. 
 
 Kay. I promise ; but I know you will release me from it when you 
 see them. I will get a carriage. So that no one will meet you. Wait 
 for me, I shall not be long. Is it agreed ? 
 Laura. {Smiling.) Yes, it is agreed. 
 
 {Enter Peachblossom, d. f. with a sheet of paper {foolscap,) and some 
 enormous envelopes ) 
 
 Peach, (l. h.) Here they are. 
 6 
 
UNDER THE GASLIGHT. 43 
 
 Ray. c. That's a good girl, keep them till I come back. In half 
 an hour, Laura be ready. {Exit d. f.] 
 
 Peach. ( With an air.) What's he going to do in half an hour ? 
 
 Laura. He's going to take me away with him for a little while, 
 Blossom, and while I'm gone, I wish you to be a good girl, and watch 
 the house, and take care of it till I return. 
 
 Peach. I don't believe it. You won't return. { Crying.) That's 
 what our Sal said when she went off with her young man, and she 
 never came back at all. You shan't go; I hate him. He shan't take 
 you away. 
 
 Laura. Blossom! ( Who is getting ready, putting her hat on, &c.) 
 
 Peach. I don't care. If you go away, I'll go away; I'll bite and 
 scratch him if he comes back. {Fiercely tearing up thepaper and enve- 
 lopes ) Let him come back. Let him dare come back. 
 
 Laura. Blossom, you're very wicked. Go into the corner this min- 
 ute,' and put your apron over your head. 
 
 Peach. {Crying, at Lavra's feet.) 0, please, Miss NixVa, let me go 
 with you, and V\\ be so good and not say a v^^ord to any one. Do let 
 me go with you; let me ask him to let me go with you. {Figure 
 passes the luindow.) Here he is; I see him coming. 
 
 Laura. Run! run! open the door. (Peach runs to door; throws it 
 open, disclosing Byke. Exclamation of horror from Laura ) 
 
 Byke {Advancing.) Ah, my dear little runaway! Found you at 
 last, — and just going out. Hov*^ lucky! I wanted 3-ou to take a 
 ■walk with me. 
 
 Laura. Listantly leave this place. 
 
 Byke. How singular! you are always ordering me out, and I am 
 always coming in. We want a change. I will go out, and I request 
 you to come with me. 
 
 Laura. Blossom, go find an oflQcer. Tell him this wretch is in- 
 suJting me. 
 
 Byke. Blossom ? ah, — exactly! Here you, Judas! {Svd as appears 
 at door, down l. h.) (Peach cosses to Laura, r.) 
 
 Judas. 0, Miss, save me! 
 
 Byke. ( Throws Peach over to Judas, l. Take care of that brat. 
 And as for j^ou, daughter, — come with me. 
 
 Laura. Daughter! 
 
 Byke. Yes; it is time to declare myself. Paternal feeling has 
 been too long smothered in my breast. Come to my arms, my child, 
 my long-estranged child! {Takes out dirty handkerchief and jyresses 
 his eyes with pretended feeling. ) 
 
 Laura. God! is tlicre no help coming? {She attempts to escape. 
 Byke seizes her.) 
 
 Byke What, unfilial girl ! You take advantage of a father's 
 weakness, and try to bolt! {Clutching her by the arm.) Come, go 
 with me; and cheer my old age. Aint I good, to take you back 
 after all these years ? 
 
 Picture, — Quick Curtain. 
 
ACT 111. 
 
 SCENE I.— The Tombs Police Court. Long high desk, with three seats, 
 across back from r. to l. on Platform. Bailing in front. 
 Bailing around l. h., with opening c. In front of railing, 
 a bench r. and l. h. Gate in c. of railing. 
 
 Judge Bowling and another Justice seated behind high 
 desk, c, with Clerk on his l. h. Justice is reading paper, 
 with his feet upon desk, r. h. Policemen at r. and l., 1,2,e. 
 Policeman 9-9-9 at gate, c. Hard-looking set of men and 
 women on benches, r. and l Lawyer Splinter is talking 
 to Rafferdi, who is in crowd down r. 
 
 {As the Curtain rises, noisy buzz is heard.) 
 
 Bow Smithers, keep those people quiet. (9-9-9 handling people 
 roughly.) Here, — easy, officer; treat those poor people decently. 
 Well, whom have you got there ? .,..,. 
 
 9-9-9. (Going to 1. e. l. h., and dragging urchin within raiting . 
 Pickpocket, your Honor. Caught in the act. 
 
 Bow. What's he got to say for himself? Nothing, eh? What 8 
 
 his name ? .„■,.,.. c^ ■^.^ 
 
 9-9-9. {Stooping down to boy, as if asking him.) Says his name is 
 
 Pftfr TilCH. 
 
 Bow. Yoii stand a poor chance, RichI Take him away (Bowling 
 consults with other Justice as the hoy is taken off e. R. h.) 
 
 Splinter. {To Rafferdi, who has his monkey and organ.) So you 
 want to get out, eh ? How much money have you got ? 
 
 Raff. Be jabersl half a dollar in cents is all the money I'm worth 
 
 in the world. 
 
 Splin. Give it to me. I thought you organ fellows were Italians. 
 
 Raff.' Divil doubt it! Aint I got a monkey ? 
 
 9-9-9. Here, you ; come up here. ( Takes Rafferdi inside the 
 
 railing, l. h.) , . «> o 
 
 Bow Now, then; what's this, oflicer .'' 
 
 9-9-9. (Rafferdi takes stand, r.) Complaint of disturbing the 
 neighborhood. 
 
 Bow. What have you got to say for yourself { 
 
 Splin. (r. h.) If your Honor please, I appear for this man. 
 
 Bow. Well, what have you got to say for him. 
 
UNDER THE GASLICxHT. 47 
 
 Splin. Here is an unfortunate man, your Honor — a native of Sunny 
 Italy. He came to our free and happy country, and being a votary 
 of music, he bouglit an organ and a monkey, and tried to earn his 
 bread. But the myrmidoms of the hiw were upon him, and the 
 Eagle of Liberty drooped his pinions as Rafferdi was hurried to his 
 dungeon. 
 
 Bow. Rafferdi? — You're an Irishman, ain't you. What do you 
 mean by deceiving us. 
 
 Raf. Sure I did'nt. It's the lawyer chap there. I paid him fifty 
 cints and he's lying out the worth of it. 
 
 Bow. You fellows are regular nuisances? Iv'e a great mind to 
 commit you. 
 
 Splin. Commit him ! If the Court please — reflect — commit him — 
 to prison — what will become of his monkey ? 
 
 Bow. Well, I'll commit him too. 
 
 Splix. You cannot. I defy the Court to find anything in the 
 Statutes authorizing tlie committal of the monkey. 
 
 Bow.. Well, we'll leave out the monkey. 
 
 Splin. And if the Court please, what is the monkey to do in the 
 wide world, with his natural protector in prison? I appeal to those 
 kindlier feelings in your honor's breast — which must ever temper 
 justice with mercy. This monkey is perliaps an orphan! 
 
 Bow. {Laughing.) Take them both away, and don't let me catch yon 
 here again Mr. Rafferdi or you'll go to jail. 
 
 Exit Rafferty 1 e. l. h. Splinter goes down, Raf. Exits. 
 
 9-9-9. {Pulling Sam lolio is drunk out of a croicd.) Get up here. - 
 
 Sam. {Noisily.) Look Yah — don't pull me around. 
 
 Bow. Silence there ! what's all this noise about ? 
 
 Sam. Whar's de Court. I want to see de Judge. 
 
 Splin. {Approaching him.) My colored friend, can I assist you? 
 
 Sam. Am you a Counsellor-at-Law? 
 
 Splin. Yes, retain me ! How much money have you got? 
 
 Sam I ain't got no money — but I've got a policy ticket. It's 
 bound to draw a prize. 
 
 Splin. Got any pawn tickets ? 
 
 Sam. Ob course. {Giving him a handful.) 
 
 Bow. Well, what's the Cliarge. 
 
 9-9-9. (r. h c.) Drunk and disorderly. 
 
 Bow. Well, my man, what have you to say ? 
 
 Sam. Dis here gemman represents me 
 
 Splin. We admit, if the Court please, that we were slightly intoxi- 
 cated, but we claim the privilege, as the equal of the white man. 
 
 Bow. {To Clerk.) Very good ! Commit him for ten days. 
 
 Splin. But this is an outrage your honor 
 
 Bow {To officer.) Take him ofl' 1 {Motioning to Sam.) (Splinter 
 sits down discomfited, Sam very tcroth.) 
 
 Sam. What? 
 
 Bow. Take him away. 
 
 Sam Look here judge, hab you read the Civil Rights Bill. You 
 can't send dis nigger to prison while dat bill am de law of de land. 
 
 Bow. That'll do — remove him. 
 
 Sam. I ain't no gypsy, I'm one of de Bureau niggers, I am! Where 
 am de law I Don't touch me white man ! Dis am corruption — dis 
 am 'ficial delinquency ! 
 
 9-9-9. ( Colors him and carries him qff^.) 
 
 Sam. Mr. Stephens I Thaddeus 1 {Exit r. h. 1 e.) 
 
UNDER THE GASLIGHT. 49 
 
 Bow. Any more prisoners ? (Noise l 1. e.) What noise is that ? 
 
 {Officer goes out. Byke enters folloived by the officer who 
 esscorls Laura ) 
 
 Byke. Where is the judge ? 0, where is the good kind judge ? 
 
 Bow. Well, my dear sir, what is the matter ? 
 
 Byke. 0, sir, forgive my tears. I'm a broken-hearted man. 
 
 Bow. Be calm, my dear sir. Officer, bring this gentleman a chair. 
 
 [Officer hands chair r. c. 
 
 Byke. Ah, sir, you are very good to a poor distressed father, 
 whose existence has been made a desert on account of his child. 
 
 Bow. Repress your emotion, and tell me what you want. 
 
 Byke. I want my child. 
 
 Bow. Where is she ? 
 
 Byke. She is here, sir^ — here — my darling, my beautiful child, and 
 so unfilial — so unnatural. 
 
 Bow. How is this, young lady ? 
 
 Laura. {Standing inside railing l. h ) It is all a lie. He is not my 
 father. 
 
 Byke. Not your father ! Oh, dear, oh, dear, you will break my 
 heart. 
 
 Bow. This needs some explanation. If not his child, who are you ? 
 
 Laura. I am — I dare n(jt say it I know not who I au., but I feel 
 that he cannot be my father. 
 
 Byke. 0, dear — — 
 
 Bow. (Sharply.) Silence ! (To Laura, sternly.) You say you 
 don't know who you are. Do you know this man ? 
 
 Laura. Yes. 
 
 Bow. Where and with whom do you live ? 
 
 Laura. I have lived alone for four months. 
 
 Bow. And with whom did you live before that ? 
 
 Laura. 0, forgive me if I seem disobedient — but I cannot tell. 
 
 Bow. Then I must look to this gentleman for information. 
 
 Byke. And I will gladl}^ give it. Yes, sir, I will gladly tell. She 
 was taken from me years ago, when she was but a little child, by 
 rich people who wanted to adopt her. I refused — tliey paid me — I 
 was poor — I was starving — I forebore to claim her — she was happy, 
 but they turned her forth four months ago into the street. I could 
 not see her suffer — my child — the prop of my declining days. I 
 begged her to come — she refused. My enemies had poisoned my 
 daughter's mind against me, her father. I am still poor. I taught 
 school, but I have saved a little money, only for her. 
 
 Bow. How old is she ? 
 
 Byke. Nineteen. 
 
 Bow. (To Laura.) Your father is your legal guardian during your 
 minority, and is entitled to your custody. Why are you so unduti- 
 ful ? Try to correct this. 
 
 Byke. Oh, bless you, dear good judge for those words. 
 
 Laura. 0, have I no friends, must I go with him ? 
 
 Bow. Certainly. 
 
 Laura Anything then. Exposure ! Disgrace rather than that. 
 [Judges consult. Enter Snorkey l. goes opposite to Laura and sig- 
 nals her. 
 
 Byke. (Aside.) Snorkey ! the devil ! 
 
 Snorkey. {Crossing to '[jxvb.a, l. c.) Can I help you, miss. Only 
 tell me what to do, and if it takes my other arm off I'll save you. 
 7 
 
UNDER THE GASLIGHT. 51 
 
 Laura Yes, yes, you can help me 1 {To Judge.) Will you let me 
 send a message ? 
 
 Bow. You may do that. 
 
 Laura. Run to that house — not my house — but the one in which 
 you saw me first. Do you remember it ? 
 
 Snorkey. Don't I, and the wine and cakes. 
 
 Laura. Ask for Miss Pearl. Tell her where I am. Tell her to 
 come instantly. (Snorkey going.) Stay — tell her to bring the 
 ebony box in mother's cabinet. Can you recollect ? 
 
 Snorkey. Can I what ? Gaze at this giant intellect and don't ask 
 me I The ebony box! All right — I'm off. 
 
 [^Exit L. 
 
 Bow. It would have been as well, young lady, to have answered 
 frankly at first. 
 
 Byke. 0, sir! Don't be harsh with her I Don't be harsh with my 
 poor child. 
 
 Bow. Your father has a most Christian disposition. 
 
 Laura. Sir, I have told you, and I now solemnly repeat it, that 
 this man is no relation of mine. I desired to remain unknown, for I 
 am most unfortunate; but the injustice you are about to commit forces 
 me to reveal myself, though in doing so I shall increase a sorrow al- 
 ready hard to bear. (Splinter talks with Laura aside.) 
 
 Bow. We sit here to do right, according to facts before us. And 
 let me tell you, young lady, that your obstinate silence has more than 
 convinced us that your father's statement is correct. Further, unless 
 the witnesses you have sent for can directly contradict him, we shall 
 not alter our decision. 
 
 Laura. Let it be so. He says he gave me into the care of certain 
 wealthy people when I was a little child. 
 
 Byke. I am willing to swear it. 
 
 Laura. (Splinter watching effect of question.) Then he will be 
 able to describe the clothes in which I was dressed at the time. 
 They were safely kept. I have sent for them. 
 
 Byke. Let them be produced — and I will recognize every little 
 precious garment. {Aside.) This is getting ferociously hot for me! 
 Hal {Re-enter Snorkey with Ray hastily l. 1 e. 
 
 Snorkey. {Excitedly.) Here's a witness 1 Here's evidence! 
 
 [9-9-9 admonishes him. 
 
 Laura. (Ray takes her hand through rail.) Ray ? 
 
 Bow. Who is this ? 
 
 Ray. I am a friend, sir, of this lady. 
 
 Byke. He is a dreadful character — a villain who wants to lead my 
 child astray! Don't — please don't let him contaminate her! 
 
 Bow. Silence! {To Ray.) Can you disprove that this young lady 
 is his daughter ? 
 
 Ray. His daughter ? {Looks at Laura.) 
 
 Laura. He knows nothing. 
 
 Bow. Let him answer. Come — have you any knowledge of this 
 matter ? 
 
 Ray. I had been told, sir, that (Laura looks at him.) No — I 
 
 know nothing. 
 
 Laura. Have you brought the ebony box ? It contained the 
 clothes which I wore when 
 
 Ray. I understand; but in my haste, and not knowing your peril 
 I brought nothing. But can you not remember them yourself ? 
 
UNDER THE GASLIGHT. 53 
 
 Laura. Perfectly. 
 
 Ray. Write, then! {Handing her a memorandum hook. To Bow.) 
 Sir, this lady will hand you a description of those articles which she 
 wore when she was found, thirteen years ago. Then let this scoun- 
 drel be questioned — and if he fail to answer, I will accuse him of an 
 attempted abduction. 
 
 Bow. That's the way! 
 
 Byke. (Aside.) It will not be a great effort for me to remember. 
 
 Bow. {Taking the book from Ray.) Now, sir, I will listen to you. 
 
 (Ray and Laura are eager and expectant.) 
 
 Byke, {Deliberately.) A soiled gingham frock, patched and torn. 
 (Laura gives a shudder and turns aside.) 
 
 Bow. What kind of shoes and stockings ? 
 
 Byke. Her feet were bare. 
 
 Bow. And the color of her hood ? 
 
 Byke. Her dear little head was uncovered. 
 
 Bow. {Handing book back.) He has answered correctly. 
 
 Laura. It is useless to struggle morel Heaven alone can help me I 
 
 Ray, You can see, sir, that this lady cannot be his daughter. 
 Look at her and at him! 
 
 Bow. I only see that he has pretty well proven his case. She must 
 go with him, and let her learn to love him as a daughter should. 
 
 Ray. She shall not ! I will follow him wherever he goes. 
 
 Byke. {Taking Laura's hand.) I appeal to the Court. 
 
 Bow. Officer, take charge of that person, until this gentleman is 
 gone. 
 
 Byke. {Gonxing forward with Laura who is dumb and despairing.) 
 My child, try and remember the words of the good Judge. " You 
 must learn to love me as a daughter should." {Leading her towards 
 
 R. H.) 
 
 Snorkey. ( To Ray.) Stay here sir, I'll track him. No one sus- 
 pects me I 
 
 [Music, Tableau, — Scene closes in. 
 
 Laura r. h. Byke r. c. Snorkey c. Ray l. h. 
 
 SCENE II. — Exterior op the Tombs, with ballads on strings upon the 
 railings. Enter Judas followed by Peachblossom l. h. 1 e. 
 
 Peach. Only tell me where he has taken her, and I'll go with you 
 — indeed I will. 
 
 Judas. We don't want you, we wouldn't be bothered with you; 
 she's our game. 
 
 Pearl. What are you going to do with her ? 
 
 Judas. Do ? why we'll coin her. Turn her into dollars. We've had 
 it on foot for a long time. 
 
 Peach. What ! Is she the rich young lady I heard you and Byke 
 speak of so often before I got away from you. 
 
 Judas. {Savagely.) Heard me speak of ! What did you hear ? 
 
 Peach. {Dancing of.) 0, I know ! I know more than you sup- 
 
UNDER THE GASLIGHT. 55 
 
 pose. When you used to lock me up in the back cellar for running 
 away, you forget that doors had key-holes. 
 
 Judas. (Aside.) This girl must be silenced 
 
 Peach. What are you muttering about — don't you know hOw 
 Byke used to throw you down and trample on you for muttering. 
 
 Judas. I'll have you yet, my beauty. 
 
 Peach. I think you are a great fool, Judas. 
 
 Judas. Likely. Likely. 
 
 Peach. Why don't you give up Miss Nina to that handsome young 
 gentleman. He'd pay you well for the secret. He'd give his whole 
 fortune for her I know, I saw it in his face. And he'd treat you 
 better than Byke does. 
 
 Judas. Not yet my chicken; besides, what does he care for her now? 
 Isn't he going to marry the other girl — she's the one will pay when 
 the time comes — but we intend to hold the goods 'till the price is 
 high. 
 
 Peach. Then if you won't, I'll tell all as I knows. I'll tell him all 
 I used to overhear about babies and cradles, and he'll understand it 
 perhaps, if I don't. 
 
 Judas. {Aside.) Hang her — she'll make mischief. (Aloud.) Well, 
 come along with me, my beauty, and I'll talk it over with you. 
 
 Peach. Don't touch me, I won't trust you with your hands on me. 
 (Judas makes a dart at her ) I knew that was your game. But I'll 
 be even with you yet. (^Dancing off tantalizingly before Judas. Both 
 Exit R. h. ) 
 
 (Enter Snorkey r. 1 e.) 
 
 Snorkey. (Despondent.) I'm no more use than a gun without a 
 trigger. I tried to follow Byke, but he smoked me in a minute 
 Then I tried to make up with him, but he swore that I went against 
 him in Court, and so he would't have me at no price. Then I 
 ran after the carriage that he got into with the lady, till a damn'd 
 old woman caught me for upsetting her apple stand and bursting up 
 her business. What am I to do now ? I'm afraid to go back to the 
 Cap'n, he won't have me at any price either, I suppose. (Gazing at 
 ballads, hand in his pockets — goiiig from one to the other. Enter 
 Bermudas l. 1 e. with ballads in his hands and preparing to fake others 
 off the line as if to shut up shojj. ) 
 
 Ber. (After gazing at Snorkey.) What are you a doing of — sa-a-y ? 
 (Snorketj takes no notice.) This here's one of the fellows as steals the 
 bread of the poor man. Reading all the songs for nothin, and 
 got bags of gold at home. Sa-a-y ! 
 
 Snorkey. Well, youngster, what are you groaning about ? Have 
 you got the cholera ? 
 
 Ber. Ah! What are you doing ? Taking the bloom oflf my songs ? 
 You're read them 'ere ballads till they're in rags. 
 
 Snorkey. I was looking for the " Prairie Bird." 
 
 Ber. Perar}?^ Bird! eh? There aint no perary bird. There's a 
 " Perary Flower." 
 
 Snorkey. Now don't go into convulsions. I'll find it. ( Turns to 
 songs.) 
 
 Ber. Sa-a-a}^ — you needn't look no further for that bird! Iv'e found 
 him, and no mistake. He's a big Shanghae with a red comb and no 
 feathers. 
 
 Snorkey. He's dropped on me. 
 
UNDER THE GASLIGHT. 57 
 
 Ber. Ain't you a mean cuss, sa-ay ? Why don't you come down 
 with your two cents, and support trade ? 
 
 Snorkey. But I ain't got two cents. What's a fellow to do if he 
 hasn't got a red ? 
 
 Ber {Toning doivn.) Haint you ? Where's your messages ? 
 
 Snorkey Havn't had one go to-day. 
 
 Ber. Where do you hang out ? 
 
 Snorkey. Nowheres. 
 
 Ber. My eye — no roost ? 
 
 Snorkey. No. 
 
 Ber. 1 tell you what, come along with us — wev'e got a bully place 
 — no rent — no taxes — no nothin. 
 
 Snorkey. Where is it ? 
 
 Ber. Down under the pier ! — I discovered it. I was in swimmin' 
 and seed a hole and I went in. Lo'-s of room, just the place for a 
 quiet roost. We has jolly times every night I tell you on the dock ; 
 and when its time to turn in we goes below, and has it as snug as a 
 hotel ; come down with us. 
 
 Snorkey. I will I These young rascals will help me track that 
 scoundrel yet. 
 
 Ber. Now, help me to take in my show windows; its time to shut 
 up shop. 
 
 {Enter Ray Trafford l.) 
 
 Ray. If what that crazy girl has told me can be true, Laura may 
 yet be restored to her friends if not to me, for I have dispelled that 
 dream for ever. But that villain must be traced immediately, or 
 he will convey his victim far beyond our reach or rescue. 
 
 (Snorkey helping to take down songs, sees Trafford, who has crossed 
 
 to R. H. 
 
 Snorkey. Hollo 1 Cap'n! 
 
 Ray. The man of all I wanted. You tracked him ? 
 
 Snorkey. They was too much for me sir — two horses was — but I 
 saw them turn into Greenwich street, near Jay. 
 
 Ray. This may give us a clue. I have learned from a girl who knows 
 this fellow, that he has some hiding-place over the river, and owns a 
 boat which is always fastened near the pier where the Boston Steam- 
 ers are. 
 
 Snorkey. Well Cap'n, if anything's to be done, you'll find me at 
 Pier — what's the number of our pier. Shorty ? 
 
 Ber. Pier 30! — Down stairs! 
 
 Snorkey. Pier 30. That's my new home, and if you want me, say 
 the word. 
 
 Ray. You will help me ? 
 
 Snorkey. You bet Cap'n. I was on Columbia's side for four years, 
 and Pll fight for her daughters for the rest of my life, if you say so. 
 If there's any fightin' count me in, Cap'n. 
 
 Ray. Thank you, brave fellow. Here take this — no nonsense — 
 take it. Pier thirty is it ? 
 
 Snorkey. Pier thirty. {Exit Trafford, r. 1 e.) 
 
 Ber. {Eyeing money.) How much Perary? 
 
 Snorkey. One — two — three — four — four dollars. 
 
 Ber. Four dollars I Sa-ay — Don't you want to buy a share in a 
 
UNDER THE GASLIGHT. 59 
 
 paying- business, I'm looking out for a partner with a cash capital, 
 for the ballad business. Or I tell you what to do. Lay your money 
 on me in a mill. I'm going to be a prize fighter, and get reported in 
 the respectable dailies. " Rattling Mill, 99th round, Bermudas the 
 victor, having knocked his antagonist into nowheres." 
 
 Snorkey. Come along yoa young imp. I could floor you with my 
 one arm, and then the report would be : " 25th round — Snorkey 
 came up first, while his antagonist showed great signs of distress." 
 
 Ber. Say, Ferary, what are you going to do with all that money ? 
 
 Snorkey. I won't bet it on you, sure. 
 
 Ber. I'll tell you what to do, let's go and board at the Metropolitan 
 Hotel for an hour. 
 
 Snorkey. What will we do for toothpicks ? 
 
 Ber. Oh, go along. You can't get anything to eat for four 
 dollars. 
 
 [Exit Snorkey, Ber. squaring off i^. 1. e. 
 
 SCENE III.— i^oo^ of Fier 30, North River. Sea cloth down and work 
 ing — A pier projecting into the river. A large cavity in 
 front. Bow of a vessel at back, and other steamers, vessels and 
 piers in i^erxpective on either side. The fiat gives view of 
 Jersey City and the river shipping by starlight. Music of 
 distant serenade heard. 
 
 H, 
 
 Byke enters scvlling a boat, r. 2d. e. and fastens his boat to the pieru 
 Old Judas is on the pier, smoking pipe, looking down. 
 
 Judas. Have you fixed ever^^hing across the river ? 
 
 Byke. Yes, I have a horse and wagon waiting near the shore to 
 carry her to the farm. Has any one been around here. 
 
 Judas. Not a soul. I've been waiting here for an hour. What 
 made you so long ? 
 
 Byke. I pulled down the river for a spell to throw any spies off 
 the track. It was necessary after what you told me of that girl's 
 threat to blab about the Boston pier. 
 
 Judas. Pshaw! she'd never dare. 
 
 Byke. Never mind, it's best to be certain. Is the prize safe ? 
 
 Judas. Yes, she was worn out, and slept when I came away. How 
 her blood tells — she wouldn't shed a tear. 
 
 Byke. Bah! if she'd been more of a woman and set np a scream- 
 ing, we shouldn't have been able to get her at all. Success to all 
 girls of spirit, say I. 
 
 Judas. Don't you think it might be worth while to treat with this 
 young spark, Trafford, and hear what he has to offer ? 
 
 Byke. Satan take him! no. That'll spoil your game about the 
 other girl, Pearl. He was making up to her all right, and if he gets 
 this one back he'll upset the whole game by marrying her. I tell 
 you he's g-ot the old foc'ling for her, spite of her running away. Now 
 you can judge for yourself, and do as you please. 
 
 Judas. Then I do as you do — get her out of the city. When 
 
UNDER THE GASLIGHT. 61 
 
 Pearl is married to him we can treat for Laura's ransom, by threat- 
 ening them with the real secret. 
 
 Byke. Then that's settled. {Taking out flask.) Here's the precioirt 
 infant's health. Do you think she'll go easy, or shall we drug her ? 
 
 Judas. Just tell her its to mi^et her beau and get her ransom, or 
 give her a reason and she'll be as mild as a lamb. 
 
 Byke. Ha ! let me get hold of her, and I'll answer she goes across, 
 reason or no reason. (Bermudas calh outside l.h.) There's a noise. 
 
 Judas. It's only the market boys coming down for a swim. 
 
 Byke. Softly then, come along. \_Music. Exeunt l. 
 
 [Enter Ber, Peanuts, and a couple other boys, l. 
 
 Ber. Say Peanuts, go down and see if any of the fellows is 
 come yet. (Peanuts scrambles down to hole in front on side of dock ; 
 comes out again.) 
 
 Peanuts. There's nobody there. 
 
 Snorkey. {without.) Hollo ! 
 
 Ber. Hollo ! That's our new chum. Hollo 1 follow your front 
 teeth, and you'll get here afore you knows it. 
 
 [Enter Snorkey with more boys, l. 
 
 Snorkey. What a very airy location. 
 
 Ber. It's a very convenient hotel. Hot and cold saltwater baths 
 at the very door of your bedrooms, and sometime when the tide rises 
 we has the bath brought to us in bed — doesn't we Peanuts ? 
 
 Peanuts. That's so. 
 
 Snorkey. Come, what do you do before you go to bed ? 
 
 Ber. We has a swarry. Say, oue of you fellows, go down and bring 
 up the piany forty. (Peanuts goes into hole and gets banjo.) What'll 
 I give you? 
 
 Snorkey Something lively. {Music, and dance by boys, ensue, — 
 given according to capacity and talent. At the end of it, a general shout 
 of jubilee ; ivhen — 
 
 Sergeant of Patrol. {Outside.) Here, boys! less noise. 
 
 Ber. It's Acton and the police. Let's go to bed. (Ber. and boys 
 get doicn into hole ) 
 
 Sergeant. {Entering l. in jjatrol boat.) If you boys don't make less 
 noise, I'll have to clear you out. 
 
 Ber. {On the iner.) It's an extra occasion, Mr. Acton; — we're 
 having a distinguished military guest, and we're entertaining him. 
 {Boat passes out, r.) Come along, Perary, let's go to bed. (Snorkey 
 IS about to descend.) 
 
 {Enter Ray Trafford, l. onp)ier.) 
 
 Ray. Is that you, Snorkey ? 
 
 Snorkey. {Quickly ivhi^pering.) Here, sir. Anything turned up? 
 
 Ray. Byke was overheard to say he intended crossing the river 
 to-night ; he will doubtless use that boat which he keeps by the 
 Boston Pier. The river patrol are on the watch for him. But I will 
 meet him before he can embark. 
 
 Snorkey. Which Boston Pier is it, Cap'n ? there are three on this 
 river. 
 
 Ray. Three 1 
 
 Snorkey. Yes ; one of them is two slips below. I tell you what, 
 Cap'n: You get the officers, go by the shore way, search all the 
 
UNDER THE GASLIGHT. 63 
 
 slips ; I'll find a boat about here, and will drop down the river, and 
 keep an eye around generally. 
 
 Voice. ( Without, l. h ) This way, sir. 
 
 Ray. That's the Patrol calling me Your idea is a good one. Keep 
 a sharp eye down the stream. [Exit, l. 
 
 Snorkey. (Alone.) Now for my lay. 
 
 Ber. {Popping his head iqx) Say, can't I do nothin ? I'm the 
 Fiftli-Ward Chicken, and if there's any muss, let me have a shy. 
 
 SxoRKEY. No ; get in, and keep quiet. (Ber. disappears.) I 
 wonder where I can find a boat. There ought to be plenty tied up 
 about here. My eye! {Discovering Byke's ) Here's one for the 
 wishin'; sculls too. I'm in luck. Say, Bermude, whose boat is this? 
 
 Ber. Yours, if you like. Tie it loose. 
 
 {Juvijjs down, enters boat, joushes of towards r.) 
 
 Ber. {Inside.) Keep your toe out of my ear! 
 
 {Pause.) [Byke, Laura, and Judas, enter on pier from u 
 
 Laura. Is this the place ? There is no one here ; you have 
 deceived me. 
 
 Byke. Well, we have but we won't do so any longer. 
 
 Laura What do you mean ? 
 
 Byke. {Draiving p)istol.) Do you see this ? It is my dog Trusty. 
 It has a very loud voice and a sharp bite; and if you scream out, I'll 
 try if it can't outscream you. Judas, unfasten the boat. 
 
 Laura. What are you about to do ? You will not murder me ? 
 
 Byke. No ; we only mean to take you to the other shore, where 
 your friends won't think of finding you. Quick, Judas. 
 
 Judas. The boat 's gone. 
 
 Byke. Damn you, what do you mean ? Where is it ? Here; hold 
 her. (Judas chdches Laura.) Where the devil is that boat ? 
 
 Snorkey. {Re-apqjearing in boat from -r.) Herel 
 
 Byke. Snorkey 1 We're betrayed, ('ome. {Drags Laura to- 
 wards L.) 
 
 Snorkey. The police are there 1 Turn, you coward I Don't run 
 from a one-armed man! 
 
 Byke. Judas, take her! (Snorkey strikes at him with oar. Byke 
 takes oar from him and strikes him ; he falls m boat. The boys hear the 
 noise, and scramble up at back. The patrol boat appears at r., with 
 lights. ) 
 
 Snorkey. Help! Bermudas ! 
 
 Ber. Hi! Ninety-ninth round! first blood for Bermudas! {Jumps 
 at Byke.) 
 
 Byke. {Flinging Ber. off.) Judas, toss her over! 
 
 {J VDAS throws Lavra over back of pier. Ray enters h. Boys all get 
 on pier and surround Byke, fghting him. Officers enter at l. Ray 
 leaps into water after ItAVRA.) 
 
 Curtain. 
 Moonlight on during Scene. 
 
ACT IV. 
 
 No carpet. 
 SCENE I. Long Branch. Ground floor of an elegant residence — open 
 windows from floor to ceiling at back — opening upon a balcony 
 or promenade. Perspective of the shore and sea in distance. 
 Doors R. and l. Sunset. 
 As the curtain rises to lively music, from r. enter Pearl, Mrs. Van 
 Dam, Sue Earlie, and other ladies in summer costume, Demilt and Win- 
 del with them. 
 
 Pearl. And so the distinguished foreigner is in love with me ? I 
 thought he looked excessively solemn at the hop last night. Do you 
 know I can't imagine a more serious spectacle than a Frenchman or 
 an Italian in love. One always imagines them to be sick. {To Mrs. 
 V. D.) Do fasten my glove — there's a dear. 
 
 Mrs. D. Where's Ray ? 
 
 Pearl. 0, he's somewhere! I never saw such another. Isn't he 
 cheerful ? He never smiles, and seldom talks. 
 
 Mrs. V. D. But the foreigner does. What an ecstasy he was in 
 over your singing; sing us a verse won't you, while we're waiting for 
 Ray. 
 
 All. It will be delightful — do. 
 
 Pearl. Well I \_Song introduced. 
 
 {Air; When the war is over, Mary.) 
 I. 
 
 Now the Slimmer days are fading, 
 
 Autumn sends its dreary blast 
 Moaning through the silent forest 
 
 Where the leaves are falling fast. 
 Soon dread winter will enfold us — 
 
 Chilling in its arras of snow, 
 Flowers that the summer cherished, 
 
 Birds that sing, and streams that flow. 
 
 II. 
 
 Say, shall all things droop and wither, 
 
 That are born tliis summer day ? 
 Shall the happy love it brought us — 
 
 Like the flowers fade away ? 
 No ; be still thou flutt'ring bosom — 
 
 Seasons change and years glide by, 
 They may not harm what is immortal — 
 
 Darling, — love shall never die I 
 
UNDER THE GASLIGHT. 67 
 
 Pearl. Now, I've suri,£>- that to Ray a dozen times, and he never 
 even said it was nice. He hasn't any soul for music; 0, dear! what 
 a creature. 
 
 Mrs. V. D. Yes, and what a victim you will be with a husband who 
 has $ 60,000 per annum income. 
 
 Pearl. That's some comfort, isn't it ? 
 
 Ray. {Enters l h. bowing to others.) Going out. Pearl? 
 
 Pearl. Yes, we're off to Shrewsbury. Quite a party's going — four 
 carriages — and we mean to stay and ride home by moonlight. 
 
 Ray. Couldn't you return a little earlier ? 
 
 Mrs. V. D. Earlier! Pshaw! What's in you Trafford. {The ladies 
 and gent, go up.) 
 
 Ray. (Pearl, c.) You know that Laura will be quite alone, and 
 she is still suffering. 
 
 Pearl. Well, she'll read and read, as she always did, and never 
 miss me. 
 
 Ray. But, at least, she ought to have some little attention 
 
 Pearl. Dear, dear, what an unreasonable fellow you are. Isn't she 
 happy now — didn't you save her from drowning, and havn't I been as 
 good to her as I can be — what more do you want ? 
 
 Ray. I don't like to hear you talk so Pearl, and remember 
 what she and you were once. And you know that she was something 
 else once — something that you are now to me. And yet how cheer- 
 ful, how gentle she is. Slie has lost everything and does not com- 
 plain. 
 
 Pearl. Well, what a sermon ! There, I know you're hurt and I'm 
 a fool. But I can't help it. People say she's good-looking, but she's 
 got no heart ! I'd give anything for one, but they aint to be bought. 
 
 Ray. Well don't moan about it, I didn't mean to reprove yon. 
 
 Pearl, But you do reprove me. I'm sure I havn't been the cause of 
 Laura's troubles. 1 didn't tell the big, ugly man to come and take her 
 away, although I was once glad he did. 
 
 Ray. Pearl ! 
 
 Pearl. Because I thought I had gained you by it. (Ray turns 
 away.) But now I've got you, I don't seem to make you happy. But 
 I might as well complain that you don't make me happy — but I don't 
 complain, I am satislied, and I want you to be satisfied. There, are 
 you satished ? 
 
 Mrs. V. D. ( Who with others has been promenading up and down 
 balcony.) Here are the carriages. 
 
 Pearl. I'm coming. Can't you get me my shawl Ray. (Ray gets 
 it from chair.) 
 
 Mrs. V. D. And here's your foreign admirer on horseback. 
 
 (Sue Earlie, Demilt and Windle, Exit.) 
 
 Pearl. {Up stage c.) Bye, bye, Ray. {Exit.) 
 
 Mrs. V. D. Are you not coming Trafford ? 
 Ray. I ? No ! 
 
 Mrs. V. D. Do come on horseback, here's a horse ready for you. 
 Pearl. ( Without. ) Ray, Ray. 
 
 Mrs. V. D. Pearl's calling you. Be quick or Count Carom will 
 be before you, and hand her in the carriage. 
 
UNDER THE GASLIGHT. 69 
 
 Ray. {Taking his hat slowly ) 0, by all means, let the Count have 
 some amusement. 
 
 Mrs. V. D. ( Taking Ray's arm.') You're a perfect icicle. 
 
 [They Exit. 
 
 [Noise of whips and laughter. Plaintive music as Laura enters. 
 L., goes to c. and gazes oid at them.) 
 
 Laura. Poor Pearl. It is a sad thing to want for happiness, but 
 it is a terrible thing to see another groping about blindly for it 
 ■when it is almost within the grasp. And yet she can be very happy 
 with him. Her sunny temper, and her joyous face Avill brighten 
 any home. {Sits at table c, on ivhich are books.) How happy I feel 
 to be alone with these I'riends, who are ever ready to talk to me — 
 with no longings for what I may not have, — my existence hidden from 
 all, save two in the wide world, and making my joy out of the joy 
 of that innocent child who will soon be his wife. 
 
 (Peachblossom appears at back looking in caidiously, grotesquely attired. ) 
 
 Peach. If you please. 
 
 Laura. (Aloud.) Who is there. 
 
 Peach. {Running in window f.) 0, its Miss Nina I 0, I'm so glad 
 I've had such a hunt for you. Don't ask me nothing yet. I'm so 
 happy. I've been looking for you so long, and I've had such hard 
 luck. Lord what a tramp — miles on miles. 
 
 Laura. Did any one see you come here ? How did you find me ? 
 
 Peach. I asked 'em at the Hotel where Mr. Trafford was, and 
 they said at Courtland's and I asked 'em where Courtland's was, and 
 they said down the shore, and I walked down lookin' at every place 
 till I came here. 
 
 Laura. Speak low Blossom. My existence is a secret, and no one 
 must hear you. 
 
 Peach. Well, Miss, I says to Snorkey — says I — 
 
 Laura. Is he with you ? 
 
 Peach. No Miss, but we are great friends. He wants me to keep 
 house for him some day. I said to him — "I want to find out where 
 Miss Nina's gone," and so he went to Mr. Trafford's and found he was 
 come to Long Branch, but never a word could we hear of you. 
 
 Laura. And the others — those dreadful people. 
 
 Peach. Byke and old Judas ? Clean gone ! They hasn't been seen 
 since they was took up for throwing you in the water, and let oflf 
 because no one came to Court agin 'era. Bermudas says he's seen 
 'em in Barnum's wax-work show, but Bermudas is such a liar. He 
 brought me up here. 
 
 Laura. Brought you up here. 
 
 Peach. Yes, he sells papers at Stetson's; he's got the exclusive 
 trade here, and he has a little wagon and a horse, and goes down to 
 the junction every night to catch the extras from the Express train 
 what don't come here. He says he'll give me lots of nice rides if I'll 
 stay here. 
 
 Laura. But you must not stay here. You must go back to New 
 York this very evening. 
 
UNDER THE GASLIGHT. 71 
 
 Peach. Back 1 No I won't. 
 
 Laura. Blossom. 
 
 Peach. I won't, I won't, I won't ! Pll never let you away again. 
 I did it once and you was took away and dragged about and chucked 
 overboard and almost drowned. I won't be any trouble, indeed I 
 won't. Pll hire out at the hotel, and run over when my work is done 
 at night, when nobody can see me, to look up at your window. Don't 
 send me away. You're the only one as ever was good to me. 
 
 Laura. (Aside.) It's too dangerous. She certainly would reveal 
 me sooner or later. I must send her back. 
 
 Peach. Besides I've got something to tell you Dreadful I dread- 
 ful ! about old Judas and Byke — a secret. 
 
 Laura, A secret ? what in the world are you saying ? 
 
 Peach. Is it wicked to listen at doors when people talk ? 
 
 Laura. It is very wicked. 
 
 Peach, Well, I suppose that's why I did it. I used to listen to 
 Byke and Judas when they used to talk about a rich lady whom they 
 called Mrs. Courtland. 
 
 Laura. Ah ! 
 
 Peach. Judas used to be a nurse at Mrs. Cortland's, and was 
 turned oflF for stealing. And wasn't she and Byke going to make 
 money oflf her ! and Byke was to pretend to be some beautiful lady's 
 father. Then, when they took you, Judas says to me : " Did you 
 ever hear of children being changed in their cradles ?" — and that you 
 wasn't her child, but she was going to make money off the real one 
 at the proper time." 
 
 Laura. What do you tell me ? 
 
 Peach. Oh 1 I'm not crazy. I know a heap, don't I ? And I wan't 
 you to think I'm somebody, and not send me away 
 
 Laura. ( To herself ) She must speak the truth. And yet if I were 
 to repeat her strange words here, I should be suspected of forging 
 some tale to abuse the ear of Society. No I better let it rest as it 
 is. She must go — and I must go too. 
 
 Peach You ain't mad with me ? 
 
 Laura. No, no ; but you must go away from here. Go back to the 
 hotel to your friend — anywhere, and wait for me; I will come to you. 
 
 Peach. Is it a promise ? 
 
 Laura. (Nervously.) Yes, go. 
 
 Peach. Then I'll go ; for 1 know you always keep your word — you 
 ain't angry, cause 1 came after you ? I did it because 1 loved you — 
 because I wanted to see you put in the right place. Honor bright, 
 you ain't sending me away now ? Well, I'll go ; good bye 1 
 
 [Exit c. 
 
 Laura. (Animated.) I must return to the city, no matter what dan- 
 gers may lurk there. It is dangerous enough to be concealed here, 
 with a hundred Argus-eyed women about me every day, but with this 
 girl, detection would be certain. I must go — secretly if I can — 
 openly if I must. 
 
 Ray. (Outside.) No, I shall not ride again. Put him up. (Enter- 
 ing.) Laura, I knew 1 should find you here. 
 
 Laura. (Sitting and pretending composure.) I thought you had gone 
 with Pearl. 
 
 Ray. I did go part of the way, but I left the party a mile down the 
 road? 
 
UNDER THE GASLIGHT. 73 
 
 Laura. Yon and Pearl bad no disagreement? 
 ' Ray. No — yes ; that is, we always have. Our social baromtere 
 always stands at " cloudy" and "overcast." 
 
 Laura. (Rising.) And whose fault is that ? 
 
 Kay. {Pettishly.) Not mine. I know I do all I can — I say all I can 
 — but she — (Cr-ossing.) 
 
 Laura. But she is to be your wife. Ray — my friend — courtship 
 is the text from which the whole solemn sermon of married life takes 
 its theme. Do not let yours be discontented and unhappy. 
 
 Ray. To be my wife ; yes. In a moment of foolishness, dazzled 
 by her airs, and teased by her coquettishness, I asked her to be my 
 wife. 
 
 Laura. And you repent already ? 
 
 Ray. {Taking Jxer hand.) I lost you, and I was at the mercy of any 
 flirt that chose to give me an inviting look. It was your fault — you 
 know it was! Why did you leave me ? 
 
 Laura. {After convict uith her feelinga.) Ray, the greatest happi- 
 ness I have ever felt has been the thought that all your affections 
 were forever bestowed upon a virtuous lady, your equal in family, 
 fortune and accomplishments. What a revelation do you make to 
 me, now! What is it makes you continually war with your happi- 
 ness ? 
 ^ .— Ray. I don't know what it is, I was wrong to accuse you. For- 
 give me! I have only my own cowardice to blame for my misery. 
 But Pearl 
 
 Laura. You must not accuse her. 
 / Ray. When you were gone, she seemed to have no thought — no 
 
 wish — but for my happiness. She constantly invited me to her house, 
 and when I tried to avoid her, met me at every turn. Was she al- 
 together blameless ? 
 
 Laura. Yes, it was her happiness she sought, and she had a right 
 to seek it. 
 
 Ray. Oh ! men are the veriest fools on earth; a little attention, a 
 little sympathy, and they are caught, — caught by a thing without soul 
 or brains, while some noble woman is forsaken and forgotten. 
 
 Laura. (Ray throws himnetf into a seat.) Ray will you hear me? 
 
 Ray. {Looking to her hope/idly.) Yes, speak to me as you used to 
 speak. Be to me as you used to be. 
 
 Laura. {Smiling sadly.) I cannot be that to you, but I can speak 
 as the spirit of the Laura who is dead to you forever. 
 
 Ray. Be it as you will. 
 • - Laura. {Standing beside him.) Let the woman you look upon be 
 wise or vain, beautiful or homely, rich or poor, she has but one thing 
 she can really give or refuse — her heart ! Her beauty, her wit, her 
 accomplishments, she may sell to you — but her love is the treasure 
 without money and without price. 
 
 Ray. How well, I have learned that. 
 > * Laura. She only asks in return, that when you look upon her, 
 your eyes shall speak a mute devotion; that when you address her, 
 your voice shall be gentle, loving and kind. That you shall not des- 
 pise her, because she cannot understand, all at once, your vigor- 
 ous thoughts and ambitious designs; for when misfortune and evil 
 have defeated your greatest purposes- — her love remains to console 
 you. You look to the trees for strength and grandeur — do not des- 
 pise the flowers, because their fragrance is all they have to give. 
 10 
 
UNDER THE GASLIGHT. 75 
 
 Remember, — love is all a woman has to give; but it is the only earthly 
 thing which God permits us to carry beyond the grave. 
 
 Ray. {Rising. ) You are right. You are always right. Tasked 
 Pearl to be my wife, knowing what she was, and I will be just to 
 her. I will do my duty though it break my heart. 
 
 Laura. Spoken like a hero. 
 
 Ray, But it is to you I owe the new light that guides me; and I 
 will tell her — 
 
 Laura. Tell her nothing — never speak of me. And when you see 
 her, say to her it is she, and she alone, whom you consult and to whom 
 yoii listen. 
 
 Ray. And you — 
 
 Laura. You will see me no more. 
 
 Ray. You will leave me? 
 
 Laura. Something of me will always be with you — my parting 
 ■^ords — my prayers for your happiness. {Distant music heard.) 
 
 Ray. {Falling on his knees.) 0, Laura, you leave me to despair. 
 
 Laura, (c.) No; to the happiness which follows duty well per- 
 formed. Such happiness as 1 feel in doing mine. 
 
 Picture. 
 
 Sce7ie c/o.ses in. During last of this scene the sun has set, and night 
 come on. Stage dark. 
 
 SCENE II. — Woods near Shrewsbury Station — Night. 
 {Enter Byke .shabbily dressed, l. 1 e.) 
 
 Byke. Its getting darker and darker, and I'm like to lose my way. 
 Where the devil is Judas? It must be nine o'clock, and she was to be 
 at the bend with the wagon half an hour ago. {Rumble of wheels 
 heard.) Humph — at last. 
 
 Judas. {Entering l.) Is that you Byke? 
 
 Byke. Who did you suppose it was ? I've been tramping about the 
 wet grass for an hour. 
 
 Judas. It was a hard job to get the horse and Avagon. 
 
 Byke. Give me a match. {Lights pijje and leans against a tree.) 
 Did you get the bearings of the crib ? 
 
 Judas. Yes, it is on the shore, well away from the other cottages 
 and hotels. 
 
 Byke. That's good. Nothing like peace and quietness. Who's 
 in the house ? 
 
 Judas. Only the two girls and the servants. 
 
 Byke. How many of them ? 
 
 Judas. Four. 
 
 Byke. It'll be mere child's play to go through that house. Have 
 you spied about the swag ? 
 
 Judas. They have all their diamonds and jewels there ; Pearl 
 wears them constantly; they're the talk of the whole place. 
 
 Byke. We'll live in luxury off that girl all our lives. She'll settle 
 
UNDER THE GASLIGHT. 77 
 
 a handsome thing on us, -won't she? when she knows what we know, 
 and pays us to keep dark;— if t'other one don't spoil the game. 
 Judas. Curse her! I could cut her throat. 
 Byke. 0, I'll take care of that! 
 
 Judas. You always do things for the be«t, dear old Byke ! 
 Byke. Of course I do. What time is it ? 
 Judas. Not ten yet. 
 Byke. An hour to wait. 
 
 Judas. But, Byke, you won't peach on me before my little pet is 
 married, will you ? 
 
 Byke. What's the fool about now ? 
 
 Judas. I can't help trembling ; nothing is safe while Laura is 
 there. 
 
 Byke. I've provided for that. I've had the same idea as you;— 
 while she's in the way, and Trafford unmarried, our plans are all 
 smoke, and we might as well be sitting on the hob with a keg of 
 powder in the coals. 
 
 Judas. That we might. But what have you thought to do ? 
 Byke. Why, I've thought what an unfortunate creature Laura 
 is, — robbed of her mother, her home, and her lover; nothing to live 
 for; it would be a mercy to put her out of the way. 
 Judas. That's it; but how — how— how — 
 
 Byke. It's plain she wasn't born to be drowned, or the materials 
 are very handy down here. What made you talk about cutting her 
 throat? It was very wrong; when a thing gets into my head, it 
 sticks there. 
 
 Judas. You oughtn't to mind me. 
 Byke. Make your mind easy on that score. 
 
 Judas. (Alarmed.) Byke, 'I heard some one in the bushes just 
 there. (Points off' r.) 
 
 Byke. (Nervoush/ and quickly.) Who? Where? (Going r.) 
 Judas. Where the hedge is broken. I could swear I saw the 
 shadow of a man. 
 
 Byke. Stop here. I'll see. [OfR. 
 
 Judas. (Solus.) I begin to shiver. But it must be done or we 
 starve. Why should I tremble ? it's the safest job we ever planned. 
 If they discover us, our secret will save us; — we know too much to 
 be sent to jail. 
 
 (Re-enter Byke, slowly.) 
 
 Byke. There are traces, but I can see no one. (Looking (jf R.) 
 
 Judas. Suppose we should have been overheard! 
 
 Byke. (Glaring at her.) Overheard? Bah! no one could under- 
 stand. 
 
 Judas. Come, let us go to the wagon and be off. 
 
 Byke. (Always looking of r.) Go you, I will follow. Bring it 
 round by the station, and wait for me in the shadows of the trees. I 
 will follow. (Judas goes offh. Byke, after a moment, — still looking R., — 
 buttons up his coat, and hides behind wood, r. h.) Heigho! I must be 
 
 off. 
 
 (Enter Snorkey, slowly, r.) 
 
 Snorkey. Tracked 'em again! We're the latest fashionable arri- 
 vals at Long-Branch. " Mr. Byke and Lady, and Brigadier-General 
 Snorkey, of New-York"; — there's an item for the papers! With a 
 horse and wagon, they'll be at the seaside in two hours; but in the 
 
UNDER THE GASLIGHT. 79 
 
 train I think I'll beat 'em. Then to find Cap'n Trafford, and give 
 him the wink, and be ready to receive the distinguished visitors 
 with all the honors. Robbery; Burglary; Murder; — that's Byke's 
 catechism: — "What's to be done when you're hard up? Steal! 
 What's to be done if you're caught at it? Kill!" It's short and 
 easy, and he lives up to it like a good many Christians don't live up 
 to tlunr laws. {Looking of l.) They're out of sight. Phew! it's 
 midsummer, but I'm chilled to the bone; something like a piece of ice 
 has been stuck between my shoulders all day, and something like a 
 black mist is always before mo. (Byke is behind (ree.) Just like old 
 Nettly told me he felt, the night before Fredericksburg; — and next 
 day he was past all feeling, — hit with a shell, and knocked into so 
 many pieces, I didn't know which to call my old friend. Well, {sla}> 
 ping his chest,) we've all got to go; and if I can save them, I'll have 
 some little capital to start the next world on. The next world! per- 
 haps 1 shan't be the maimed beggar there that I am in this. ( Takes 
 out pistol, examines cap; goes off h., Byke gliding after him.) 
 
 SCENE III. — Railroad Station at Shi-eivshury Bend. Up r. the Station 
 shed R. H. Platform around it, and door at side, window 
 in front. At l. l. e. clump of shrubs and tree The Railroad 
 track runs from l. 4 e. to r. 4 e. Vieio of Shreivsbiiry River 
 in perspective. Night, Moonlight. The sioitch, uith a rerf 
 lantern and Signal man^s coat hanging on it l. c. The 
 Signal lamp and jjost beside it. 
 
 As the scene opens, several packages are lying about the Stage, among 
 them a bundle of a.res. The Signal man is wheeling in a .small barrel 
 from L. ichisfling at his woi^k. {Enter Laura in walking dress, com' 
 ing feebly from l. u. e. 
 
 Laura. It is impossible for me to go further. A second time I've 
 fled from home and friends, but now they will never tind me. The 
 trains must all have passed, and there are no conveyances till to- 
 morrow. {She sits at clump l. u. e.) 
 
 Signal. Beg pardon, ma'am, looking for anybody? 
 
 Laura. Thank you, no. Are you the man in charge of this 
 station ? 
 
 Signal. Yes, ma'am. 
 
 Laura. When is there another train for New York ? 
 
 Signal. New York? Not till morning. We've only one more train 
 to-night; that's the down one; it'll be here in about twenty minutes — 
 " Express Train." 
 
 Laura. What place is that? 
 
 Signal. That? That's the signal station shed. It serves for store- 
 room, depot, baggage-room, and everything. 
 
 Laura. Can 1 stay there to-night ? 
 
UNDER THE GASLIGHT. 81 
 
 Signal. There? well it's an odd place, and I should think you would 
 hai'dly like it. Why don't you go to the hotel ? 
 
 Laura, I have my reasons — urgent ones. It is not because I want 
 money. You shall have this {producing portmonnaie) if you let me 
 remain here. 
 
 Signal. Well, I've locked up a good many things in there over 
 night, but I never had a young lady for freight before. Besides 
 ma'am, I don't know anything about you. You know it's odd that 
 you won't go to a decent hotel, and' plenty of money in your pocket. 
 
 Laura. You refuse me — well — I shall only have to sit here all 
 night. 
 
 Signal. Here in the open air? Why it would kill you. 
 
 Laura. So much the better. 
 
 Signal. Excuse me for questions, Miss, but you're a running away 
 from some one, ain't you ? 
 
 Laura. Yes. 
 
 Signal. Well, I'd like to help you. I'm a plain man you know, 
 and I'd like to help you, but there's one thing it would go agin' me 
 to assist in. (Laura interested.) I'm on to fifty years of age, and 
 I've man}^ children, some on 'em daughters grown. There's a-many 
 temptations for young gals, and sometimes the old man has to 
 put on the brakes a bit, for some young men are wicked enough to 
 persuade the gals to steal out of their father's house in the dead of 
 night, and go to shame and misery, So tell me this — it aint the old 
 man, and the old man's home you've left, young lady ? 
 
 Laura. No; you good, honest, fellow — no — I have no father. 
 
 Siglal. Then b}^ Jerusalem! I'll do for you what I can. Anj^thing 
 but run away from them, that have not their interest but yours at 
 heart. Come, you may stay there, but I'll liave to lock you in. 
 
 Laura. I desire tliat 3^ou should. 
 
 Signal. It's for your safety as much as mine. I've got a patent 
 lock on that door that would give a skeleton key the rheumatism to 
 fool with it. You don't mind the baggage. I'll have to put it in 
 with you, hoes, shovels, mowing machines and what's this — axes. 
 Yes a bundle of axes. If the Superintendent finds me out, I'll ask him 
 if he was afraid you'd run f)flf with these. {Laughs.) So if you please 
 I'll first tumble 'em in. {Fids goods in house, Laura sitting on plat- 
 form R H. looking at him. When alt in, he conies towards her, laJcing 
 up cheese-box to jjut it in Station) I say Miss, I ain't curious — But (jf 
 course it's a young man you're a going to ? 
 
 Laura. So far from that, it's a young man I'm running away from. 
 
 Signal. {Dropping box.) Running away from a young man! Let 
 me shake hands with you. {Shakes her hand.) Lord, it does my 
 heart good 1 At your age too I {Seriously.) I wish you'd come 
 and live down in my neighborhood a while, among my gals. {Shak- 
 ing his head.) You'd do a power of good. {Putting box in station.) 
 
 Laura. I've met an excellent friend. And here at least I can be 
 concealed until to-morrow; — then for New York. My heart feels 
 lighter already — it's a good omen. 
 
 Signal. Now Miss, bless your heart, here's your hotel ready. 
 {Goes to stvitch and takes coat off, putting it on.) 
 
 Laura. Thanks my good friend; but not a word to anyone— till 
 to-morrow; not even — not even to your girls. 
 
 Signal. Not a word, I promise you. If I told my girls it would be 
 
 11 
 
UNDER THE GASLIGHT. 83 
 
 over the whole village before moriiiDg. {She goes in. He locks door. 
 Laura appears at loindow facing audience.) 
 
 Laura. Lock me in safely. 
 
 Signal. Ah! be sure I will. There! {Tries door.) Safe as a 
 jail. {Pidls out ivatch, and then looking at track with lantern.) Ten 
 minutes and down she comes. It's all safe this way my noisy 
 beauty, and you may come as soon as you like. Good night, Miss! 
 
 Laura. {At windotv.) Good night. 
 Signal. Running away from a young man, Ha ! ha ! ha I 
 
 {He goes to track, then looks doivn r. — lights ids pipe and is trudging 
 off R., tchen enter Snorkey from l. u. e. 
 
 Snorkey. Ten minutes before the train comes. I'll wait here for it. 
 {To Signal Man icho re-enters.) Hollo I say, the train won't stop here 
 too long will it. 
 
 Signal. Too long ? It won't stop here at all. 
 
 Snorkey. I must reach the shore to night. There'll be murder 
 done, unless I can prevent it! 
 
 Signal. Murder, or no murder, the train can't be stopped 
 
 Snorkey. It's a lie. By waving the red signal for danger, the 
 engineer must stop, I tell you ! 
 
 Signal. Do you think I'm a fool. What ? disobey orders and lose 
 my place ; then what's to become of my family. {Exit r. u. e.) 
 
 Snorkey. I won't be foiled. I will confiscate some farmer's 
 horse about here, and get there before them somehow. (Byke 
 enters at hack uiith loose coil of rope in his hand.) Then when 
 Byke arrives in his donkey cart he'll be ready to sit for a picture of 
 surprise. (Byke enters l. u. e. suddenly throwing the coil over Snorkey. 
 
 Byke. Will he? 
 
 Snorkey. Byke! 
 
 Byke. Yes, Byke. Where's that pistol of yours ? ( Tightening rope 
 round his arm. ) 
 
 Snorkey. In my breast pocket. 
 
 Byke. {Taking it.) Just what 1 wanted. 
 
 Snorkey. You ain't a going to shoot me ? 
 
 Byke No ! 
 
 Snorkey. Well, I'm obliged to you for that. 
 
 Byke. {Leading him to platform.) Just sit down a minute will you. 
 
 Snorkey. What for. (Laura appears horror struck at window. ) 
 
 Byke. You'll see. 
 
 Snorkey. Well, I don't mind if I do take a seat. {Sits down. Byke 
 coils the rope round, his legs.) Hollo ! what's this ? 
 
 Byke. You'll see. {Picks the helpless Snorkey up.) 
 
 Snorkey. Byke what are you going to do ! 
 
 Byke. Put you to bed. {Lays him aci'oss the R. R. track.) 
 
 Snorkey. Byke, you don't mean to — . My God, you are a villain ! 
 
 Byke. {Fastening him to rails.) I'm going to put you to bed. You 
 won't toss much. In less than ten minutes you'll be sound asleep. 
 There, how do you like it ? You'll get down to the Branch before me, 
 will you ? You dog me and play the eavesdropper, eh I Now do it 
 if you can. When you hear the thunder under your head and see 
 the lights dancing in your eyes, and feel the iron wheels a foot from 
 your neck, remember Byke! {Exit l. h. e.) 
 
UNDER THE GASLIGHT. 85 
 
 Laura. 0, Heavens I he will be murdered before my eyes I How 
 can I aid him ? 
 
 Snorkey. Who's that ? 
 
 Laura. It is L Do you not know my voice ? 
 
 Snorkey. That I do ; but I almost thought I was dead, and it was 
 an angel's. Where are you ? 
 
 Laura. In the station. 
 
 Snorkey. I can't see you, but I can hear you. Listen to me, Miss, 
 for I've got only a few minutes to live. 
 
 Laura {Shaking door ) God help me 1 and I cannot aid you. 
 
 Snorkey. Never mind me. Miss. I might as well die now, and 
 here, as at any other time. I'm not afraid. I've seen death in al- 
 most every shape, and none of them scare me ; but, for the sake of 
 those you love, I would live. Do you hear me ? 
 
 Laura. Yes! yes! 
 
 Snorkey. They are on the way to your cottage — Byke and Judas — 
 to rob and murder ! 
 
 Laura. (In agony) 0, I must get out! {Shakes %vindov>-hars.'\ 
 What shall I do ? 
 
 Snorkey. Can't you burst the door ? 
 
 Laura. It is locked fast. 
 
 Snorkey. Is there nothing in there ? — no hammer ? — no crowbar ? 
 
 Laura. Nothing! {Faint deam whistle heard in the didance) 0, 
 Heavens! The train! {Paralyzed for an instant.) The axe!!! 
 
 Snorkey. Cut the woodwork! Don't mind the lock — cut round it! 
 How my neck tingles! {A blow at door is heard) Courage! {Another) 
 Courage! {The steam ivhistle heard again — nearer and rumble of train 
 on track. Another bloiv) That's a true woman! Courage! {Noise 
 of locomotive heard — loith whistle. A last blow ; the door sioings open, 
 mutilated— the lock hanging — and Laura appears, axe in hand.) 
 
 Snorkey. Here — quick! {She runs and unfastens him. The loco- 
 motive lights glare on scene.) Victory ! Saved ! Hooray! (Laura 
 leans exhausted against stvitch.) And these are the women who ain't 
 to have a vote! 
 
 \^As Laura takes his head from the track, the train of cars rushes past 
 with roar and whistle from l. to r. h. 
 
A C T V. 
 
 Scene IV. — An elegant boudoir at Courtland's cottage, Long Branch ; 
 open ivindow and balcony at back ; moonlight exterior ; tree 
 overhanging balcony. 
 
 Bed is at u. e. l. ; toilette table r. ; arm-chair c. ; door l 
 2 E. ; lighted lamp on toilette table ; dre^^es on chair by bed l 
 H., and by ivindoio on r. {Music.) 
 Pearl is discovered {en negligee) brushing her hair out at table r. h. 
 before mirror. 
 
 Pearl. I don't feel a bit sleepy. What a splendid drive we had! 
 I like that foreig-ner. What an elegant fellow he is! Ray is nothing- 
 to him. I wonder if Pm in love with him ? Pshaw! What an idea7 
 I don't believe I could love anybody much. How sweetly he 
 writes! — {picks up letter ayid sits on chair c.) " You were more lovely 
 than ever to-nig-ht ; with one more thing, you'd be an angel" — Now 
 that's perfectly splendid — " with one more thing, you'd be an an<'-el— 
 that ojie thing is Love. They tell me Mr. Trafford is your professed 
 admirer. Pm sure he could never be called your lover — for he seems 
 incapable of any passion but Melancholy." It's quite true. Ray 
 does not comprehend me. {Takes up another letter) — " Pearl, forgive 
 me if I have been cross and cold. ¥ov the future, I will do my duty, 
 as your affianced husband, better." Now, did ever anyone hear such 
 talk as that from a lover? Lover? — 0, dear! I begin to feel that 
 he can love, but not me. Well, I'd just as soon break — if he'd be 
 the first to speak. How nice and fresh the air is! — [she turns down 
 lamp.) It's much nicer here than going- to bed. — {settles herself in 
 tete-a-tete for a nap. Pause. ) 
 
 [Moonbeams fall on Byke, ivho appears above the balcony. He gets 
 over the rail and enters. 
 
 Byke. Safely down! I've made no mistake — no, this is her room. 
 What a figure I am for a ladies chamber. {Goes to table picks up 
 delicate lace handkerchief , and wipes his face.) Phew! Hot! {Puts 
 handkerchief in his pocket.) Now for my bearings. {Taking huge 
 clasp-knife from his pocket.) There's the bed where she's sleepiii"- like 
 a precious infant, and here — (Sees I'earl in chair, and steals round 
 at back, looking dmvn at her.) It's so dark — I can't recoo-nize the 
 
UNDER THE GASLIGHT. 89 
 
 face. It's a wonder she don't feel me in the air and dream of me. If 
 she does she'll wake sure — but it's easj' to settle that. ( Takes phial 
 of chloroform from his jjocket — saturates the handkerchief he picked vp, 
 and applies it.) So! — now my charmer — we'll have the ear-rings. 
 {Takes them out.) What's here. {Going to table.) Bracelets — dia- 
 monds! {Going to d7-e.'<ses, and feeling in the pockets.) Money! That's 
 handy. {Be puds all in a hag, and hands them over balcony.) Now for 
 the drawers, there's where the treasure must be. Locked? {Tries 
 them uith bunch of keys.) Patent lock, of course! It amuses me to 
 see people buying patent locks, when there's one key will fit 'em all, 
 {Produces small croicbar, and just as he is ahout to force the drawer, a 
 shout is heard, a.nd noise of icagon.) What's that. {Jumpjs, catching 
 at bureau, which falls over.) Damnation! 
 
 Pearl. {Starting up) Who's there ? What's that 
 
 Byke. Silence or I'll kill you ! 
 
 Pearl. Help! Help! 
 
 Byke. {Running to bureau for knife.) You will have it my pretty 
 one. (Pearl runs to door l.) 
 
 Pearl. Save me! Save, me! {Byke pursues her, the door bursts open 
 and Kay and Laura enter. Byke tuivis and runs to balcony, and confronts 
 Snorkey and Bermudas, ivho have clambered over.) 
 
 Laura. Just in time. 
 
 Ray. {Seizing Byke.) Scoundrel. 
 
 Snorkey. Hold him, Governor! Hold him. {assists Ray to bind 
 Byke in chair r. h.) 
 
 Ber. Sixty-sixth and last round. The big'un floored, and Bermudas 
 as fresh as a daisy. 
 
 Pearl. Dear, dear Laura, you have saved me. 
 
 Ray. Yes, Pearl; from more than you can tell. 
 
 Laura. No, no, her saviors are there. {Pointing to Ber. and 
 Snor.) Had it not been for the one, I should never have learned 
 your danger, aud but for the other, we could never have reached 
 you in time. 
 
 Snorkey. Bermudas and his fourth editions did it. Business enter- 
 prise and Bermudas' pony express worked the oracle this time. 
 
 Ber. The way we galloped ! Sa-ay, my pony must have thought 
 the extras was full of lively intelligence. 
 
 Pearl. Darling Laura, you shall never leave us again. 
 
 Ray. No! never. 
 
 Snorkey. Beg pardon, Cap'n, what are we to do with this here 
 game we've brought down ? 
 
 Ray. The Magistrates shall settle with him. 
 
 Snorkey. Come old fellow. 
 
 Byke. One word, I beg. My conduct I know, has been highly re- 
 prehensible. I have acted injudiciously, and have been the occasion of 
 more or less inconvenience to every one here. But I wish to make 
 amends, and therefore I tender you all in this public manner my 
 sincere apolgies. I trust this will be entirely satisfactory. 
 
 Ray. Yillain! 
 
 Byke. I have a word to say to you sir. 
 
 Snorkey. Come, that's enough. 
 
 Byke. My good fellow, don't interupt gentlemen who are convers- 
 ing together. {To Ray.) I address j^ou, sir — you design to commit 
 me to the care of the officers of the law ? 
 
 Ray. Most certainly. 
 12 
 
UNDER THE GASLIGHT. 91 
 
 Byke And you will do your best towards having me iucavcerated 
 in the correctional establishments of this country ? (Ray hows.) 
 
 Snorkey. How very genteel! „ ^ , „ , vr 
 
 Byke. Then I have to say if you will, I shall make a public ex- 
 posure of certain matters connected a certain young lady. 
 
 Laura. Do not think that will deter us from your punishment, i 
 can bear even more than I have— for the sake of justice. 
 
 Byke. Excuse me, but I did not even remotely refer to you. 
 
 Laura. To whom, then ? 
 
 Byke. {Pointing to Pearl) To her. 
 
 RaY\ Miss COURTLAND? 
 
 Byke dear! no, sir The daughter of old Judas— the spurious 
 child placed in your cradle. Miss Laura Courtland, when you were 
 abducted from it by your nurse. 
 
 Pearl. What does he say? r- , t^ i- 
 
 Byke. That you're a beggar's child— we have the proofs! Dehver 
 me to prison, and I produce them. 
 
 Ray, Wretch! ^ ... 
 
 Pearl Then it's you, dear Laura, have been wronged— while 
 
 Laura. You are my sister still— whatever befalls! 
 
 Pearl Pm so glad it's so! Ray won't want to marry me, now— 
 at least, I hope so ; for I know he loves you— he always loved you— 
 and you will be happy together. 
 
 Ray. Pearl, what are you saying ? ^ • t t; 
 
 Pearl. Don't interrupt me! I mean every word of it. Laura i ve 
 been very foolish, I knoAv. I ought to have tried to reunite you— 
 but there is time. 
 
 Ray. Dear Laura! Is there, indeed, still time? {She gives 
 
 her hand. ) • • t i, i i 
 
 Byke. Allow me to suggest that a certain proposition i had the 
 honor to submit has not yet been answered. 
 
 Ray. Release him. (Snorkey undoes this cords.) 
 
 Byke. Thank you— not so rough! Thank you. 
 
 Ray. Now, go— but remember, if you ever return to these parts, 
 you shall be' tried, not only for this burglary, but for the attempt to 
 kill that poor fellow. 
 
 Byke. Thank you. Good-bye. ( To Snorkey.) Good-bye, my dear 
 friend; overlook our little dispute, and write to me. {Aside.) They 
 haven't caught Judas, and she shall make them pay handsomely for 
 
 her silence, yet. 
 
 \_Enter Peach, l. 1 e. 
 
 Peach. Miss! 0, such an accident— old Judas! 
 
 Laura and Byke. Well ? 
 
 Peach. She was driving along the road away from here— just now,_ 
 when her horse dashed close to the cliff and tumbled her down all ot 
 a heap. They've picked her up, and they tell me she is stcne dead. 
 
 Byke {A'^ide ) Dead! And carried her secret with her! All's up. 
 PU have to emigrate. {Aloud.) My friends, pardon my emotion— 
 this melancholy event has made me a widower. I solicit your sympa- 
 thies in my bereavement. [Exit l. 
 
 Ber. Go to Hooo'^eu and climb a tree! I guess PU ft>llow him and 
 see he don't pick up anytliing on his way ouL [Exit Ber. l. e. 
 
 Snorkey. Well the.e goes a pretty monument of grief. Am t he a 
 
UNDER THE (iASLTGHT. 93 
 
 cool h\n. If I ever sets up an ice cream saloon, I'll have liini for head 
 fi'eezer. 
 
 Peach. 0, Miss Laura, mayn't I live with you now, and never leave 
 no more, 
 
 Laura. Yes, you shall live with me as long' as you please, 
 
 Snorkev. That won't be long if I can help it. (Peach Uusheti.) 
 Beg pardon! I suppose we'd better be going! The ladies must be 
 tired Cap'n at this time of night. 
 
 Ray. Yes, it is night! It is night always for me. [Moving toioardA 
 door L.) 
 
 Laura. {Placing one hand on his shoulder, taking his hand.) But 
 there is a to-morrow. You see it cannot be dark forever. 
 
 Pearl. Hope for to-morrow Ray. 
 
 Laura. We shall have cause to bless it, for it will bring the long 
 sought sunlight of our lives. 
 
 Curtain. 
 
 R. Snorkey. Laura. Ray. Pearl. Peachblossom. L. H. 
 
i 
 
 D 
 
 167 
 
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