\ — ^ V3 
 
 
 ^-:-. 
 
 PHIOE IS CEIVTSbJ. 
 
 DE WITT'S ACTING PLAYS 
 
 (Number 164.) 
 
 LITTLE RUBY 
 
 OR, HOME JEWELS. 
 
 A DOMESTIC DRAMA, IN THREE ACTS. 
 
 BY J. J. WAI.I.ACE, 
 
 Author of " The Battle of Baltimore,'''' " The Voice of the Waves,'''' " Your Little 
 Darling's Blind" etc., etc. 
 
 AS FIRST PERFORMED AT THE NEW OPERA HOUSE, HAMIL- 
 TON, ONTARIO, CANADA, TUESDAY, JAN. 6, 1874. 
 
 AUTHOR'S EDITION. 
 
 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. 
 
 TO WHICH AKE ADDED, 
 
 A description of the Costumes— Synopsis of the Piece— Cast of the Characters 
 
 — EntraBces and Exits— Relative Positions of the Performers on 
 
 the Stage, and the whole of the Stage Business. 
 
 ROBERT M. DE WITT, PUBLISHER, 
 
 JVo, 3 3 ItoBe Street. 
 
 r UNCIiE'S Xrililj. A Comedietta. In One Act. By 8. Theyere Smith. 
 JVOTT j Prjgg 13 Cents. 
 
 REAJ>Y. [ jnARCORETTi; or, The Bri)»^ancl's Sacrifice. A Romantic 
 L Drama. In Three Acts. By John M. Kingdom. Price 15 Cents. 
 
'EW^s> 
 
 M€WI. 
 
 J8S" These Plays will be sent to any address, postage paid, on receipt 
 
 cf price. Fifteen Cents each. 
 
 llSlfER, 
 
 No. S3 Rose Street. 
 
 A Caste. Oometly. S Acts. By T. W. Robert- 
 son. 5 Mule, 3 Female Chai-acters. 
 
 2. Kobody's <:bil<l. Dramatic Play. 3 Acts. 
 
 By WattH rnillips, Esq. 18 Male, 2 Female 
 Chaiacteia. 
 
 3. £t<»0,00«. 'Ay H. J. ByroB, 8 Male, 4 Fe- 
 
 male Chaiacters. 
 ^.Dandelion's Dodg^oE. Faroe. 1 Act. By 
 T. J. Williams. 4 Male, 2 Female Chaiacteis. 
 
 5. William 1'ell ! A'VIlh a Vengeance. 
 
 liiirlesque. 2 Acts. By 11. J. byiou. S Male, 
 2 Female tUiaiacleis. 
 
 6. Six. ItlontSi.s /i^o. Farce. 1 Act. By Felix 
 
 Oalc. 2 Male. 1 Female Characters. 
 
 7. nilaud's £>cril. D.ania. 4 Acts. By Watts 
 
 IPliillilis. 5 Male, 3 Female Characters. 
 
 8. IWeory Dunbar. Drama. 4 Acts. By Tom 
 
 Taylor. 10 Male, 3 Female Characters. 
 
 9. A Fearful Tragedy in the Seven 
 
 Dials. A Farcical Interlude. 1 Act. By 
 Charles Selbv. 4 Male, 1 Female Characters. 
 to. Tiie Snapping Turtles ; or, Matrimonial 
 Masq\iera(linf;. DiioioKUe. 1 Act. By John B. 
 Buckstoiie. 1 Male, 1 Female Characters. 
 
 11. Woodcock's Little Came. Comedy 
 
 Farce. 2 Acls. By John Maddison Morton. 
 4 Male, 4 Female Characters. 
 
 12. A Widow Hunt. Comedy. 3 Acts. (Al- 
 
 tered Irom his own comedy of "Everybody's 
 Friend."! >'y J. Stirling Coyne. 4 Male, 4 
 Female Characters. 
 
 13. Ruy Bla.s. Romantic Di'ama. 4 Acts. 
 
 From (fhe French of Victor Hugo. 12 Male, 
 4 Female Characters. 
 
 14. I\o Thoroughfare. Drama. 
 
 a Prologue. By Charles Uickens 
 Collins. 13 Male, 6 Fema'e Chai 
 
 15. Milky ■White, Donr 
 
 By H. T. C -aveu. 4 Male 
 
 16. Dearer than Life. Serio-comie Dranui. 2 
 
 Acts. By Henry J. Byron. 6 Male, Female 
 Charactei'S. 
 n. Kind to a Fault. Comedy. 2 Acts. By 
 William Bruugh. 6 Male, 4 Pennde Characters. 
 
 18. If I had a Thousand a Year. Farce. 
 
 1 .4.ct. Bv John Maddison Morton. 4 Male, 3 
 Female Characters. 
 
 19. He's a Lunatic. 
 
 Dale. 3 Male, 2 Female Cliaracteis. 
 
 20. Daddy Gray. Kerio-coniic Dania. 3 Acts 
 
 By Andiew Ualliday. 8 Male, 4 Femah 
 
 Characters. 
 31. riay. Comed.v. 4 Acts. 
 
 son. 7 Mate. 3 Female Cha 
 *i3., Da-vid Garr 
 
 6 Acts and 
 1 and Wilkie 
 i-acters. 
 na. 2 Acts. 
 iCharactcis. 
 
 1 Act. By Feli.^ 
 
 T. W. Robi 
 
 23. The Petti 
 
 ganza. 1 A 
 Female Characters. 
 
 24. Cabman No. Oa 
 
 Wheeler. Farce. 1 Act 
 2 Male, % Female Charact 
 
 By T. W. Robert- 
 cters. 
 . Comedy. 3 Acts. By 
 s Male. 3 Feaiale Charac- 
 
 it Parliament. Extrava- 
 By Mark Lemon. 15 Male, 24 
 
 or. Found in a Four 
 By T. J. Williams. 
 
 The Droken-Hearted Club. Comedietta. 
 
 By J. Stirliug Coyne. 4 Male, 8 Female Char- 
 actei-8. 
 
 Society. Comedy. 3 Acts. By T. W. Rob- 
 ertson. 10 Male, 5 Female Characters. 
 
 Time and Tide. Drama. 3 Acts and a Pro- 
 logue. By Henry Leslie. 7 Male, 6 Female 
 Chaiacte:s. 
 
 Turning the Tables. Farce. I Act. By 
 
 John Poole, i,s(|. 5 Male, 3 Female Characters. 
 
 The Goose with the Golden E^^s. 
 
 farce. 1 Act. Bv Messrs. Mayhew and Kd- 
 wards. 5 M.ile 3 Female Characters. 
 Tansiiug a Tiger. Farce. 1 Act. 3 Male 
 
 Chi 
 
 cteri 
 
 The Little Rebel. Farce. 1 Act. By 
 J. Stirling Coyne. 4 Male, 3 Female Charac- 
 ters. 
 
 One too many for Him. Farce. 1 Act. 
 By T. J. Williams. 2 Male, 3 Female Char. 
 acters. 
 
 Larkin's Love Letters. Farce. 1 Act. 
 By T. J. WillianiS. 3 Male, 2 Female Charac- 
 
 ters. 
 U lack Sheep. Drama. 3 .Acts. ByJ. Pal- 
 
 giave Simpson and Edmund Yates. 7 Male, 5 
 
 Female Cluuacters. 
 A Silent I*rotec;or. Farce. 1 Act. By 
 
 T. J. Williams. 3 Male, 2 Fenoile Characters. 
 The Rightful Heir. Drama. 5 Acts. Bv 
 
 Lord Lytluu. 10 Male, 2 Female Characters. 
 Master Jones' Birthday, Farce. 1 Act. 
 
 Bv.loliu Maddison Morion. 4 Male, 2 Female 
 
 Charade; s. 
 Atchi. ConK-diella. 1 Act. By J. Maddison 
 
 Morton. :; Jlnl,-, i I'Vmale Characieio. 
 Beautiful Ko-.-ever. Farce. 1 Act. By 
 
 Frederick Ha.v. 2 Male, 2 Female Characteis. 
 Time and the Hour. Di-ama. 3 Acts. 
 
 Bv J. Palgrave Simpson and Felix Dale. 7 
 
 Male. 3 Female Characters. 
 .Sisterly Servi.e. Comedietta. 1 Act. 
 
 By .1. P. W.ader. 7 Wale, 2 Fenude Characteis. 
 War to the Knife. Comed.v. 3 Acts. By 
 
 Henry J. Byrcju. .i Male, 4 Female Characters. 
 Our Domestics. Comedy-Farce. 2 Acts. 
 
 By Frederick Hay. 6 Male, 6 Female Char- 
 acters. 
 Miriam's Crime. Di'ama. 3 Acts. By 
 
 H. T. Craven. 5 Male, 2 remale Characters. 
 Easy Shaving. Farce. 1 Act. By P. 0. 
 
 Burnand and Montague Williams. 5 Male, 2 
 
 Female Characters. 
 Little Annie's Birthday. Pai-ce. By 
 
 W. E. Sutei. 2 Male, 4 Female Characters. 
 
I^p" SPECIAL NOTICE.— This play is duly protected by copyright in every par- 
 ticular. Managers and Stars are hereby warned not to produce the same without 
 the written permission of the Author, or that of Mr. De Witt. 
 
 LITTLE EUBT; 
 
 OR, 
 
 HOME JEWELS. 
 
 % ^amcBiu grama, 
 
 IN THREE ACTS. 
 
 BY J. J. WALLACE, 
 
 \\ 
 
 Author of " The Battle of Baltimore,'''' " The Voice in the Waves," " Tour Litile Dar 
 ling's Blind" etc., etc. 
 
 AS EIEST PEEFORMED AT THE NEW OPERA HOUSE, HAMILTON, 
 ONTARIO, CANADA, TUESDAY, JANUARY 6, 1874. 
 
 AUTHOR'S EDITION. 
 
 TO WHICH AEE ADDED, 
 
 A DEBCRIPTION OF THE COSTUMES — CAST OF THE CHARACTERS — SYNOP- 
 SIS OF THE PIECE ENTRANCES AND EXITS RELATIVE POSI- 
 TIONS OF THE PERFORMERS ON THE STAGE, AND THE 
 WHOLE OF THE STAGE BUSINESS. 
 
 ALI HIGSTS RESEEVED. 
 
 NEW YORK: 
 ROBERT M. DE WITT, PUBLISHER, 
 
 No. 33 Rose Street. 
 
 (between DtTANE AND FRANEFOET STREETS.) 
 
 Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1872, by J. J. Wallace, in the 
 office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington, D. C. 
 
 Jf- 
 
LITTLE KUBT. 
 
 To Thomas ^ Herndon, ^sc^, 
 
 TUB LIVIKG PHOTOTYPE OF JOHN GOLDWOBTH, 
 THIS PLAY IS RBSPECTFULY DEDICATED BY HIS OBLIGED FRIEND, 
 
 <f. 
 
 ^ t/b THE AUTHOR. 
 
 ?^* N^\' ■ ^-^-ST OF CHARAOTERS. 
 
 ■f\ ^\ New Opera House., Hamilloii, Ont., 
 
 - S " Can., Jan 0, 1874. 
 
 John Qoldworth (aged 45 years) Mr. J. 11. Healv. 
 
 Bupert Levick (a roue) Mr. J. H. Mulligan. 
 
 Walter Armstrong Mr. John Ward. 
 
 Abel Swift (an old Potterer) Mr.T. J. Herndon. 
 
 Mr. Maxwell (Real Estate Broker) Mr. E. C. Mellvii.lb. 
 
 Boatman Mr. Isaac Le wis. 
 
 Lilly Qoldworth (John's Wife— age 26) Mrs. T. J. Herndos. 
 
 Laura Goldworth (John's elder Daughter— aged 19) Miss Fannie Delmaine, 
 
 Little Ruby (Lilly's Daughter). Little Nellie. 
 
 Mrs. Walton , Mrs. J. R. Healt. 
 
 Mrs. Sacket Mrs. J. R. Hfaly. 
 
 Mary Mrs. John Ward. 
 
 1^^ SPECIAL NOTICE. — This play is duly protected by copyright in every par- 
 ticular. Managers and Stars are hereby warned not to produce the same without 
 the written permission of the Author, or that of Mr. De Witt. 
 
 SCENERY. 
 ACT I., /Scene /.—Interior, looking out upon garden, in the fourth grooves. A 
 richly furnished drawing-room. Open doors, c. f., leading to garden, which is fur- 
 Garden. 
 4g. 
 
 I Open Doors | 
 
 :D: 3g. 
 
 — «E 
 
 Door. 
 
 :"C: Door. 
 
 *E 
 Door. * :A: OF 
 
 nisLed, if need be, with statues, fountains, and other decoration. Table (A) to b. 
 c, ; a handsome secretary (B) to l. c. Near b. 3 e. a fashionable sofa (C) ; an orna- 
 mented sideboard (D) on l. of f. Various chairs (E, E) about the room. A large 
 easy chair (F) towards k. of table, at the toot an ottoman or cushion (H). Toys (L) 
 and doll tor Rdby on table and floor. Fireplace at l. 2 e. ; on the mantel a clock. 
 Doors at b. 2 e. and at a. 3 K. and at l. 3 e. A smaller arm-chair (L) near writing 
 desk. 
 
 ACT II., Scene /.— Tl^e same as Act 1. with the exception of fire in fireplace being 
 lighted. 
 
 Scene II.— A. wood or landscape in first grooves. 
 
lilTTE EDBT. O 
 
 Seem III.— A. garden with villa set from r. 2 E. to b. n. e., one half upon stage 
 with steps up to door in front. 
 
 Bet piece. — 
 4g. 
 
 Cut trees. Cut trees. 
 
 ; .••• Grass. Grass. •.•. ; 3 g. 
 ! Chairs. ^'^^ ; — 
 .•.• Grass. Grass. •.•. 
 
 Villa. * Chair. Arbor. 
 
 * Chair. 
 
 O o 
 
 Table. Garden chair. 
 
 Ig. 
 
 Large conservatory in end of villa, glass windows, serving as doors, to open on 
 stage ; garden chairs at b. 1 a. ; several rustic chairs about scene ; back of house 
 crosses a rustic fence ; arbor, with seats for two, with vines overrunning it, but not 
 so as to obstruct view on l. ; set prospsctive villas to be lighted up at cue. The sua 
 iu this scene is to sink during its progress to harmonijEe with the dramatic action of 
 the piece. 
 
 ACT III., Scene i.— Interior, overlooking river scene, in the fourth grooves. A 
 
 neat cottage room at the c. f. A large lattice window, through which boats are seen 
 
 Drop— Hudson River. 
 
 2g. 
 Door, 
 
 SetWa 
 
 1 Window. 1 
 
 Chair, 
 
 Chair, 
 
 :": » Chair. 
 Piano. 
 
 Door. 
 Easy -2- chair. — 
 
 r~\ , Chair. 
 Table. 
 
 Chair. , /^ 
 Table. 
 
 Ig. 
 
 passing up and down the river. Set doors at r. 2 e. and l. 3 e. Tables k. and l. 
 Piano near k. 3 e. Chairs in various parts. Easy chair near l. 3 e. The window 
 curtains and the coverings of the furniture to be white. 
 
 Scene II. — Close in plain chamber in first grooves. 
 
 Scene III.— Open country ; river at back ; boats passing, lowing parties at nrac- 
 tjce, but these objects must not attract too much attention from front. Rock with 
 platform back k. d, e. Bank and tree near e. c. Set rocks e, and l. Set water 
 and drop same as in Scene J. 
 
 COSTITMJES. 
 
 As the action of the drama transpires within Westchester County and among the 
 environs of New York, the characters should be costumed in accordance with the 
 fashion of the day as in vogue with the inhabitants of that city. In the last act 
 Goi-DWORTH should be represented as a prematurely old man, wearin^clothing cor- 
 
4 LITTLE HUBY. 
 
 responding to the change in his financial condition, and the same alteration in cos- 
 tume should be remarked in Little Kdbt. 
 
 SYNOPSIS. 
 
 John Goldwobth, an orphan, seeking employment, encounters Chaeles Stead- 
 man, who, taking compassion upon his forlorn condition, receives liim in a humble 
 capacity in his store, and finally accepts him as a copartner. The firm flourishes, 
 but succumbs to a financial panic, from the effect of which disaster Steadman dies, 
 leaving his daughter Lili-t, then in her twelfth year, beneath the guardianship of 
 Goldwobth, who, although himself parent to a daughter by a deceased wife, de- 
 votes the energies of a revived commercial period to the welfare and education of his 
 ■ward, whom he subsequently marries. The drama opens at his villa at Fordham on 
 the eve of Goldworth's daughter's marriage with Walteb Aemsteong and in- 
 tended departure for Europe, an event commemorated by a balL Armstbono in- 
 troduces to the family, as his friend, IjEvick, a gamester, spendthrift, fortune hun- 
 ter, and roue, who, learning that the merchant had made over his estate to his wife, 
 reflects upon some scheme to obtain possession of it. Intelligence of commercial dis- 
 asters, suddenly received, detains Goldwobth at home, while Levick volunteers to 
 act as her companion and escort to the festival, who, misrepresenting the cause of 
 her husband's absence, thereby provokes the wife to jealousy. Lilly returns abrupt- 
 ly from the ball, and discovers Goldwobth in conversation with the widow of a 
 mariner lost aboard a vessel owned by Goldwobth. The succession of financial dis- 
 asters leaves the honest merchant penniless, and stilly unwilling to disturb the peace 
 of his home, he leaves his wife in ignorance of the change which has made him a 
 ruined man. Through the artifice of Levick, Lilly is induced to abandon her 
 home ; but, before so doing, she authorizes this treacherous adventurer to reconvey 
 the property back to her husband. Under power of attorney he abuses his trust, 
 and sells for his own benefit, leaving Lilly and Ruby houseless and homeless. 
 Knowledge of this fact having been communicated to Goldwobth, he becomes un- 
 conscious as to passing events, while his mind reverts to the previous incidents of 
 his earlier life. Laura, Goldwobth's married daughter, and her husband return 
 from Europe, and institute a search for the demented father. Lilly, fleeing from 
 the wiles of her would-be deceiver, encounters them and the child Buby, sole guar- 
 dian of the semi-idiotic man. Laura, at the suggestion of her husband, attempts 
 to prevent an interview between the grief-stricken husband and his repentant wife. 
 The voice of nature speaks ; the old man pardons her transgressions, and she hovers 
 over the breast of her husband, when Levick, aware that she is about to denounce 
 his villainy, discharges a pistol, aimed at the woman's heart, but the ball enteiB that 
 of Goldwobth, who dies, as he had lived, a martyr to self-sacrifice. 
 
 PROPERTIES. 
 
 ACT I. — Chairs, large arm-chair, smaller arm-chair, clock on mantel, ottoman or 
 cushion ; doll and toys for Ruby ; work and working materials for Lilly ; let- 
 ter for Abel Swift; hat for Ruby; overcoat and cane, written letter in pocket, 
 deed and abstract for Goldwobth ; two lighted candles for Mary ; two account 
 books for Goldwobth shawl for Lilly ; written telegram for Mrs. "Walton ; 
 written letter for Goldwobth ; written letter, paper, etc. 
 
 ACT II.— Writing materials on table envelopes for Maey ; watch for Levick ; 
 bundle of papers for Abel ; written letter for Goldworth ; veil for Maby ; gar- 
 den chair, table, rustic chairs for Scene III. ; letter for Maky ; pencil for Gold- 
 wobth ; tin box for Ruby ; letter for Abel ; neat umbrella for Goldwobth. 
 
 ACT III.— Written letter for Mrs. Sacket ; shawl on table, Scene I. ; pic-nic bas- 
 ket, water cup, dining utensils, plates and edibles for Ruby ; worn letter for 
 Goldwobth ; veil for Lilly ; pistol loaded with blank cartridge to be discharg- 
 ed for Levick. 
 
 [For Prfigrq,nimi>. of Incidents, etc., see last page.] 
 
E^" SPECIAL NOTICE.— This play is duly protected by copyright ia every par- 
 ticular. Jlanagers and Stars are liereby warned not to produce the same without 
 the written permission of the Author, or that of Mr. De Witt. 
 
 LITTLE RUBY; 
 
 ACT I. 
 
 SCENE I. — Interior of a nicely furnished drawing-room. 
 
 Lilly discovered at work at table in arm-chair. 
 
 Lilly. Bless me, so early, and John will not return until half-past 
 two. I do not know how it is, but when he is away the clock seems to 
 stand still, and when he is here it seems trying to see how fast it can go. 
 
 Enter Abel Swift, c. d. 
 
 Abel. I beg your pardon, Mrs. Goldworth, I was just going to the 
 drug store to get some linseed for Betty's leg to make a poultice, and 
 Master Rupert told me to stop and leave this letter for Miss Laura. 
 
 Lilly. Thank you, Abel ; what is the matter with Miss Betty 1 
 
 Abel. Well, she got out, and was trying to jump the garden fence, 
 and struck her knee. 
 
 Lilly. Indeed, I did not know Miss Betty was given to jumping 
 fences. I must speak to her on the subject. 
 
 Abel. Speak to her ! Lor' bless you, that won't do any good ; she 
 must be tied up. She is very beautiful but very wild. 
 
 Lilly. Wild ! That is a strange way, Abel, to speak of Miss Levick. 
 
 Abel. Miss Levick! oh, bother Miss Levick ; I mean Betty the colt 
 I am breaking for young Master Rupert. Oh, Master Rupert says that 
 note is from Mr. Armstrong. Mr. Rupert could not come himself with 
 it, but will do himself the honor of calling this evening before you go 
 out. {offers note.) 
 
 Lilly. Very well, leave the note on the table there. 
 
 Abel (puts note on table). Yes, ma'am ! If you have any reply to 
 make, I will call for it as I return from the drug store, with the things 
 for Betty. By-the-bye, if you should hurt yourself jumping, you'll find 
 great relief from linseed. 
 
 Lilly. Thank you, Abel ; I don't think I shall require it. 
 
 Abel. Well, if you do it is good. If it is good for one it must be good 
 for the other. [Exit. c. d., grumbling. 
 
 Lilly. That poor old man is so in love with his stables and his colt, I 
 do not think he cares for himself or anybody else. Well, I suppose it 
 is natural, for some of the great authors, I forget which, says, " Some- 
 thing man must love." » 
 
 Enter Laura and Roby, r. 1 e. 
 
6 UTTLE HTJBY. [aCT I. 
 
 Lilly. Laura, here's a note for you. I believe it is from Walter ; it 
 was sent through Mr. Levick. 
 
 KuBY. Ain't papa come home yet, mammal 
 
 Lilly. No, my darling ; papa will not be home for some time yet. 
 
 RcBY. Oh, pshaw ! why can't papa be home all the time 1 It don't 
 seem liiie home when anyone's away. 
 
 Lilly {taking "Rvby on her knee and hissing her). Why, you little puss, 
 don't you know too much sunshine would make you blind 1 and if you 
 had your papa here always you might not value him so highly 7 
 
 Ruby. Oh yes, mamma, I shall always love my papa; everybody loves 
 ray papa. 
 
 Laura [who has been reading letter). Walter writes to say he will be 
 detained this evening until seven o'clock, which will be in time to take 
 rae to the ball. Mr. Levick, he says, is coming with him. I am sorry 
 for it; I do not like that man. 
 
 Lilly. Laura ! why not ? He seems to be a gentleman, and his con- 
 versation I think very entertaining. 
 
 Laura. Oh yes, very ! with his long stories of Europe. But to me 
 their mirth has a hollow sound ; as though his experience of Europe 
 had been gained in very questionable society. 
 
 Lilly. My dear, I am incapable of arguing the point with you. But 
 as you are to be married to morrow, and start at once for Europe your- 
 self, you will soon be rid of his society. 
 
 Ruby. Oh, mamma, must all people go away when they get married "? 
 
 Lilly. Only hear sly boots ; oh you puss. Run down to the gate 
 and meet papa. 
 
 Ruby. Yes, mamma, {taking hat, and exit c.) 
 
 Lauua {crossing to k., throws herself on cushion at IjJLLy^s feet). Mother, 
 tell !ne — what a strange sound that name has to my ears, spoken with 
 my voice, for though we have lived and played like sisters, you have 
 been all a mother to me ; and so, dear mother I must call you — tell me 
 now, for Ruby's silly words have started a train of thoughts I have 
 never before experienced. To-morrow I am to be married, and to me it 
 seems like the launching of a mighty ship, hundreds gather around and 
 cheer and wish it well. But who can tell the ultimate destiny of thaj; 
 great work. And now that the step is about to be taken, I shudder at 
 the thought of the unknown future. 
 
 Lilly (looking at her). Laura, my dear, do you love Walter Armstrong 1 
 
 Laura. Yes, mother, with a fervor that almost terrifies me. 
 
 Lilly. Then, my darling, wrap yourself up in that love ; let him never 
 doubt your love — and his future, be it what it may, is yours ; and be as- 
 sured, no man who is truly loved by his wife will fail to struggle and to 
 make that future as happy as he can. 
 
 Laura. It is not my own love 1 fear, but a something I — I cannot ex- 
 plain ; like an air-drawn picture of the mind. Strange fancies, that an- 
 other might share his love. 
 
 Lilly. Laura, you know that my experience of the world is almost as 
 limited as your own ; yet I will give you mine as well as I can remem- 
 ber. When your father took charge of the orphan girl, and was all a 
 father to me, I was happy only in the thought that every one loved him 
 as I did ; and when the day came around on which he used to visit me 
 at school, it seemed as if the hour would never come that brought him 
 with it. After a time I felt a change towards him. Then it was, I 
 came home to live with you ; I no longer hung round his neck, and kissed 
 him with the old abandon. But I have watched at times, when he was 
 standing looking ^t you, Laura, with his great blue eyes flooded with 
 t'^ars, until I felt as if I could kill you, and my whole life seemed a blank 
 
ACT I.] LITTLK IITJBY. 7 
 
 before me. But, Laura, when one day he drew my head up to his shoul- 
 der and and told me he loved me, and asked me to be his little wife, the 
 sunshine came into my heart again and T was happy. 
 
 Laura. Oh, dear mother, I would give the world to have your confi- 
 dence. 
 
 Lilly. Confidence ! It has never been shaken. T dread to think what 
 might be the consequence of such an occurrence ; but I must not think 
 of such a tiling, nor must you ! guard against it, my dear, and take this 
 assurance to your heart. You are his wife, and the man of honor who 
 makes a woman his wife, gives her the best assurance in his power that 
 his heart alone belongs to her. 
 
 Lauka. Thank you, dear mother, thanks ; I will treasure up your 
 words as the greatest of all blessings. 
 
 Ruby [spealcmg outside, l. of c). I've got him, mamma — I've got him, 
 here's papa, come home. 
 
 Enter Ruby and Gold worth, c. Laura takes his hat, coat and cane, 
 Ruby assisting. 
 
 GoLDWORTH. Good evening, Laura, my pet : still at work, Lilly, my 
 dear ; I would rather see more play, my darling. 
 
 Ruby. Oh yes, papa, let us play ; sit down papa and let us play at 
 housekeeping. [Exit Laura, l. 1 e 
 
 Gold. Play at housekeeping, baby 1 By Jove, that's a good random 
 shot ; for the past week or so I have been playing a game by which I 
 have left myself no house to play with. 
 
 Lilly {in alarm). John, what do you mean 1 
 
 Gold. Don't be alarmed, my darling ! I mean this, Lilly — that I do 
 not forget the lesson I leared in '57 and '58, when your poor father was 
 hurried to the grave by the financial crash of that period. 
 
 Lilly. John, why do you speak of ray father only in the disasters of 
 that time ? you, with him lost all you had. 
 
 Gold. Why, what had I lose save life that was not his before it was 
 mine ? Think you I forget the orphaned waif, without friend or shelter, 
 starving and penniless in this great city 1 He gave me employment and 
 a home, and when I reached man's estate, made me his partner in busi- 
 ness, and even when dying, gave me you, the greatest treasure and 
 blessing of my life. That treasure must be safely guarded from the 
 cares and trials of the future — and this is the manner in which I have 
 done it. {gives Lilly a deed and abstract.) 
 
 Lilly. What is this, John ? I do not understand it. 
 
 Gold. It is a deed of gift, my dear, of this estate, house, household 
 effects, etc., etc. I received it from the Register's office only this morn- 
 ing, and there it is. Yesterday I converted everything I could into cash, 
 and with it bought a draft on Naples to be paid to Walter Armstrong. 
 He will receive the draft in Paris, and so be compelled to accept in Eu- 
 rope that which his pride would revolt at, at home. 
 
 Lilly. But what has that to do with this, John ? 
 
 Gold. How could I provide for one without making the others se- 
 cure 1 I am still in business, you know, and though 1 have yet thirty 
 thousand dollars worth of stock, there is no looking into the future. 
 The fluctuation of the markets may make me a beggar, which would be 
 hard enough to bear, but how much more so would it be if those I love 
 were brought to want. No matter what becomes of me so long as my 
 darlings are provided for. 
 
 Lilly. Dear John, why think alone of me at such a time? 
 
 Gold. How can I help it ? As if I ever cease to think you — except, 
 
8 LITTLE RUBY. [aCT I. 
 
 indeed, when I reproach myself for my selfish love that took advantage 
 of your youth and inexperience to entrap you, as it were, into a mar- 
 riage with your father, 
 
 Lilly. Oh, John, how can you talk so ? 
 
 Gold. Why, Lilly, I cannot forget that I am not a young man, and 
 youth naturally seeks the companionship of youth ! The joyous flowers 
 that we scatter along the pathway of our early days, are the garlands 
 of pleasant thoughts, that gather around us in our age. 
 
 Lilly. Dear John, there is more substantial pleasure in the loves that 
 grow old together, than in all the empty folhes of thoughtless youth. 
 
 Gold. Still, Lilly, I am growing old, I know it ; the same years that 
 have but matured your beauty have left their silver threads in my hair, 
 and it can only be a short time when that same beauty will blush and 
 bloom beside the withered tree. 
 
 Lilly. Dear John, where should it bloom, but beside that god-like 
 man, who gave up his early days of youth and pleasure to toil and 
 thought, so that the helpless bud confided to his charge might thrive and 
 and grow and bloom ; and can he now regret that he has plucked, and 
 grafted to himself, the flower he watched with such tender care 1 
 
 Gold. No, Lilly, my darling, not for myself, but for you. I fear at 
 times, when you hear of the empty pleasures of the outside world (lit- 
 tle knowing how hollow they are), you may regret having paid so great 
 a price for thaf'which was a sacred duty. Listen, (takes letter frmn 
 poc/cet) this letter I received from your poor father, my best and only 
 friend, (readwtjf.) 
 
 "Tallahassa, Fla., June 9th, 1858. 
 
 " My Dear Friend Goldworth : — I find that the malady, for which I 
 have come to this climate, is assuming a still more malignant shape. I 
 find that day by day I am growing weaker and weaker, and fear that the 
 time is not far distant, when I must take my leave of this world and the 
 things thereof. I know it is something all must come to, all, and liope I 
 am prepared to meet it. I have but one regret in quitting this life, and 
 that is my darling little Lilly. The tliought (»f her unprotected situa- 
 tion almost unmans, me for I feel that she will miss me more ; never 
 having known a mother's love, and at her age to lose her faiher, will 
 be a heavy blow to her tender nature, of which her name is a type. My 
 dear boy, the purpose of this letter is to say to you that half the sting 
 of parting with her is banished by the thought that you still are left to 
 her. And into your hands (after those of God) I confide my darling. 
 Be to her a father, as I have been to you. And when, like me, you are 
 about to lay down your weary load of hfe, may you find the love and 
 confidence in her I have ever found in you. I know you will not under- 
 estimate the legacy I bequeath you, for it is to me more precious than 
 the countless wealth of the world, and will afibrd you an opportunity of 
 discharging what you are pleased to call a debt of gratitude. My dear 
 boy, this may be the last letter you will ever receive from me ; should it 
 be so, I will bid you an eternal farewell, with this special charge. Do 
 not let Lilly know of my demise for some time, and then in such a way 
 as to make her think it is a thing of the past, by which time I hope you 
 will in a manner have taken my place in her regards, and so feel my loss 
 less keenly. May Heaven bless you and yours, my noble-hearted boy. 
 If those who quit this world are permitted to revisit it I shall be often 
 at your side. In death I hope I shall be as in life, 
 "Your father, friend, and protector. 
 
 " Chakles Steadman." 
 
 {speaJcinff) It is now more than fifteen years since I received that letter, 
 
A.CT I.J LITPLE IIUBT. 9 
 
 and every year I have read it over, and asked myself, " have I neglected 
 any part of that sacred charge 1" 
 
 Lilly. Tliis time, John, let me answer for you. If my father, who is 
 now in heaven looking down upon us, could speak to you as I do, he 
 would say with me, " John Goldworth, you have been to me as one man 
 among a million." {she throws her arms around his neek, with her head on his 
 breast.) 
 
 Enter Laura, l. 1 e. 
 
 Laura. Come, ma, I am all ready for the ball, and Walter and Mr. 
 Levick are coming up the walk. 
 
 Lilly. Is it so late 1 I have only to smooth my hair and throw my 
 shawl on (<o Goldwokth) Are you not going to dress 1 
 
 Gold. No, my dear ; I shall not mix with the company and will go as 
 I am. 
 
 Lilly. Come, Laura, and help me. Ruby, come, it is time to go to 
 bed. . 
 
 Ruby. Ah, ma, let me stop with papa ? Mary can put me to bed when 
 you are gone. 
 
 Lilly. Very well, mj'^ dear. Come, Laura. 
 
 Bows to the gentlemen who enter c. D., Rupekt Levick and Walter. 
 Maky enters l. 3 e., with lighted candles, places them on table e. c, and 
 exits L. 3 R, The scene at bach grows gradually dark from this time to 
 end oj act. Exit Lilly and Laura, k. u. e. 
 
 Walter. Good evening, Mr. Goldworth. 
 
 Gold. Good evening, gentlemen. The ladies have just retired to dress. 
 Pray be seated. Mr. Levick, I perceive you are about to break through 
 a rule and attend our little party. 
 
 Levick. Yes. It is a compliment to my friend, Armstrong. This is 
 the first time since I returned from Europe. I expect it will be rather 
 weak tea. 
 
 Gold. Why, how so, sir 1 if it be enjoyed with the same good feeling 
 with which it is given, it should at least have the charm of sincerity 
 about it. 
 
 Levick. Yes. But it lacks the excitement of our European parties. 
 
 Gold. Indeed ! may I ask of what that excitement consists 1 
 
 Levick. Oh, yes. The games, the noted personages j'ou meet — the 
 constant stream of noveltj' that passes like a panorama before you, and 
 leaves a dizzy whirl of excitement with you for weeks after. 
 
 Walter. By George! I should say it would unfit a man for any 
 serious trial of life, if he were much f^iven to attending them. 
 
 Gold. Mr. Levick, I notice in your review of European pleasures, 
 that the games have in your memory a first place. 
 
 Levick {aside). So they should have, for they got my last cent. 
 
 Gold. I hope, Walter, you will return with other food for reflection. 
 The excitement found at the gaming table sooner or later ends in ruin. 
 
 Walter. By the way, I see by the extra that we are having a lively 
 excitement at home, or rather in Chicago, 
 
 Gold. What is the nature of it 1 
 
 Walter. A fire. They say there is a prospect of the whole city be- 
 ing burned. 
 
 Gold. Heaven forbid, for in that case we in New York may be made 
 to feel its effect even more seriously than those who are now suffering. 
 
 Walter. You alarm me ; have you any large interests in the city 7 
 
 Gold. Yes, no, yes ; that is, indiuectly. Do not let my wife or Laura 
 
10 LITTLE EtTBT. [aCT I. 
 
 know of this. I mean that I may be affected by the circumstance ; I 
 would not have their pleasure spoiled for the world, particularly as this 
 is the last evening they will spend together ; I must see how I stand 
 Avith Chicago, for this may bring a crash with it. Come, Ruby, let us 
 go. [Exit GoLDWORTH ami Ruby, r. 2 e. 
 
 Levick. The old fellow seems shaken up at the news ; is he largely 
 in business ? 
 
 Walter. Well, yes, for him ; caution is his great fault ; you see he was 
 in business with his wife's father, and they were ruined by the financial 
 crash of '57 and '58. I believe it killed his partner, and I think he is so 
 much in love with his wife and child, that if any misfortune were to 
 overtake him now, it would kill him. 
 
 Levick. The man must be a fool. 
 
 Walter. Sir, you forget yourself. 
 
 Levick. I beg your pardon, old fellow, I mean no offence to your 
 prospective father-in-law. But from observations in general, the man 
 who loves a woman should never let her know the extent of his love ; 
 she may abuse it or it may make of him a coward, who, for fear of dis- 
 aster, will let the best chances of his life slip by him. 
 
 Walter. That is a subject on which I have as yet no experience and 
 will not venture an opinion. But, to return to our affairs, have you yet 
 decided to return with us to Europe 1 You know we start to-morrow 
 immediately after the ceremony. 
 
 Levick. Me return to Europe ? on what 1 that's a trip which costs 
 money, and I have none ; not even the old homestead yonder is mine, 
 though my poor, good-natured aunt thinks it. Why, there are mortgages 
 enough on the property to make a roof for the house. I must wait till 
 I catch a rich wife like you. 
 
 Walter. Well, if like me, I do not know that it would do you much 
 good, for though Laura's father is rich enough to endow my wife, 1 do 
 not desire he should do so. 
 
 Levick. The devil you don't ; why not 1 
 
 Walter. Well, for many reasons, among them this ; Laura, as I have 
 before told you, is the issue of a former marriage, her mother dying at 
 her birth, a year or two prior to the time when Goldworth's partner left 
 him guardian to his orphan child ; he deVoted his whole life to the ful- 
 fillment of the task then imposed upon him, even some say, to the 
 seeming neglect of Laura. Now, that he may not be made to think that 
 Laura will be interfering with the prospect of Mrs. Goldworth, I have, 
 and shall continue to refuse to accept a single dollar, or let Laura do so 
 either, if I can help it. 
 
 Levick {aside). 1 believe he is as great a fool as the rest. 
 
 Walter. Mr. Goldworth told me he had settled his estate on his wife, 
 and as it seems to be a mania with him to see that she is well provided 
 for, I intend he shall have one less than he thought for to give lus wealth 
 to. I have plenty of my own. 
 
 Levick. So had I once; that was before I went to Europe. You say 
 he intends giving his estate to his wife ? 
 
 Walter. I think 1 said he had already done so, as he was looking fir 
 the return of the deeds a day or two ago. 
 
 Levick {aside). " Knowledge is a good thing," I've heard some sjy. 
 
 Enter Lilly and Laura, r. 3 e, 
 
 Lilly. We are ready ; where is John 1 
 
 Walter. He stepped into that room ; shall I call him 1 
 
 Lilly. If you please. [Exit Walter, r. 2 e. 
 
ACT I.J ■ LITTLE KTJBT. 13 
 
 loss even more keenly. I will call at your office to-morrow for such 
 news as you may receive. Good evening, sir. 
 
 Gold. You do not propose returning to the city this evening, I hope, 
 Mary shall prepare a room for you. Marj'. 
 
 Mus. W. I thank you, sir, for your kindness ; but I must return to my 
 poor orphaned children. Once more, sir, may Heaven bless you. 
 
 [Sxit, L. 2 E. 
 
 Gold. Poor woman, I can well feel for her. There seems to be a 
 chill around my heart, as if something dreadful was about to happen ; I 
 suppose it is the old story, it will take me off at sometime I fear, {hirn- 
 ing, sees Ruby asleep) My poor little monarch, dropped off at play. 
 Mary, Mary ; never mind, I will do it myself. Come, little queen, your 
 court has retired, and we must go to bed. 
 
 Takes her up tenderly in his arms, talking soft nonsense to her and exits k. 1 e. 
 LiLLT enters c, watching him ; she seems to he struggling to control her 
 feelings. Stands c. 
 
 Lilly. Oh ! that man, that man ! he has set my brain and heart on 
 fire. Why could not John accompany me like other husbands ? Wliy ■? 
 well may Rupert Levick ask the question. That which I thought to be a 
 calumny and slander — I return home to find a truth. Who is that 
 woman 1 I will know ! What can she want here 1 Business 1 pshaw, 
 at this time of night. Have I loved this man too blindly, and would 
 not see 7 Oh, has he so deceived me that I could not see 1 John Gold- 
 worth ! If you have made a plaything of my great love for you, j'ou 
 will awake in my heart a devil so fierce and terrible, that my senses 
 quiver to contemplate. I feel the old impulse of childhood returning 
 with ten-fold force — from its long, long sleep. He comes, I must dis- 
 semble ; for I will know the truth. 
 
 Betwns to c, and meets him as though Just come in. Enter Goldworth r. 
 1 E. During the rest of the act she seems constrained and backward. 
 
 Gold. Why, Lilly, back so soon ! I did not expect you for an hour 
 yet. 
 
 Lilly. I — I did not feel well, and thought I would be best at home. 
 
 Gold. Who came with you 7 
 
 Lilly. I came alone ; 1 did not wish to disturb Laura's enjoyment : I 
 have sent the carriage back. 
 
 Gold. I am sorry, Lilly dear, I could not accompany you, but busi- 
 ness of importance claimed my attention. 
 
 Lilly. I — I thought you transacted your business in the city. John, 
 do all men bring their business home with them 1 
 
 Gold {smiling). I cannot eay, my dear ; but I always have such refei-- 
 ence to my business near me as to be master of its details, at a moment's 
 notice. 
 
 Lilly. Indeed ! Oh, you must have been lonely after Ruby fell 
 asleep. 
 
 Gold. Not at all, my dear; I had my books to look over, {taking up 
 books.) 
 
 Lilly {aside). He will not tell me ; I see he is deceiving me. (aloud) 
 , John, I saw a carriage with a lady in it drive away as I returned ; had 
 she been to see youl 
 
 Gold. Yes, my dear, 
 
 Lilly. Who is she, John ? 
 
 Gold. A lady from New York, on business. 
 
14 LITTLE KUBY. [aCT II. 
 
 Lilly. From New York 1 What business could she have with you 
 here, that could not be attended to in the city 1 
 
 Gold. My dear, she asked for information concerning her husband, 
 who is a — (aside) If I tell her, she will suspect the worst, and worry her 
 life out — (aloud) My dear I beg your pardon, but 1 must not tell you, 
 as it would only raise doubts and fears lor our welfare. Fears that af- 
 ter all may never be realized, and if they are, I am insured against dis- 
 aster. 
 
 Lilly. John Goldworth, do you think my love is so bli — 
 
 Enter Ladka, Walter and Levick, c. Laura speaks as she comes on. 
 
 Laura. Why, ma ! why did you leave us so suddenly % We only miss- 
 ed you as the carriage returned and James told us you had gone home. 
 
 Lilly. I did not feel well, and feared your father might be lonely, 
 but I found him very busy. 
 
 Levick has dropped down r. of table, Laura<t«^ Walter l. of stage, John 
 r. c, Lilly c. ; exchange of looks by Levick and Lilly. 
 
 Walter (aside). Up to his eyes in business, I suppose, (aloud) By 
 the way, Mr. Goldworth, your fears are more than realized. The ruaior 
 runs that half the insurance companies in the country will go overboard. 
 Some have already gone. 
 
 Gold (starting). Did you hear which ? 
 
 Walter. Oh, yes. Mtna, the Globe, the Mutual Fire and Marine. 
 (Goldworth staggering forward supports himself by chair.) 
 
 Lilly (seeing him overcome, runs to him throwing her arms around his 
 neck). John, dear John, what is it? 
 
 Gold (recovering himself ). Nothing, Lilly darling, nothing, (kissing her 
 forehead) Thank God, my wife and child are secured from want. 
 
 Tableau, till curtain. 
 
 ACT IL 
 
 SCENE II. — Chairs by table, writing materials, etc. Same scene as Act I. 
 
 Mary enters l. 3. E., with envelopes in her hand. 
 
 Mary. Here are the envelopes, madam. Not here ! that is strange, she 
 was waiting for the envelopes to send her letter. 1 will tell her I liavo 
 got them. 
 
 As she starts to r. u. e., she meets Levick, who enters c. 
 
 Levick. Is Mr. Goldworth at home 1 
 
 Mary. No, sir, he went to the city early this morning ; we expect 
 him home by the 1:30 train. At least dinner was ordered by three 
 o'clock. 
 
 Levick. Mr. Goldworth spends most of his time in the city now, does 
 he not ? 
 
 Mary. Not more than usual, I believe. 
 
 Levick. Thank you ; say to Mrs. Goldworth I would like to see her, 
 will youl (placing hat on table, c.) 
 
ACT II.] LITTll': IITJBY. 15 
 
 Mary. Yes, sir. {crossing to door r. tj. e.) 
 
 Levick. Stop a moment, Maiy ; at what time does this household 
 usually retire 1 
 
 Mary. Why, sir, what a strange question 7 
 
 Levick. Is it 1 Well, there are strange people in this world, Mary, 
 and you are one of them. 
 
 Mary [looking confused). Well, sir, they retire about ten o'clock, usu- 
 ally. 
 
 Levick. Indeed 1 does the clock that 'yon go by overrun slow, Mary 1 
 
 Mary. I — I — I — do not understand you, sir. 
 
 Levick. NoI I am very easily understood; what I mean is that it 
 was long after ten or even twelve last night when I passed this house, 
 and I know some of its inmates had not retired. (Mary seems as if try- 
 ing to form soone reply) That will do, Mary. Tell Mrs. Goldworth I am 
 here, please. [Exit Mart, k. 3 e. 
 
 (ivatcMiig Mary) Poor little thing, I have frightened the life out of her. 
 I know i-eally less than I would have her think ; but it is just as well to 
 have those people in your power — I wonder if the seed I planted on the 
 night of the ball has yet borne fruit, {smiling^ What a strange compound 
 is a woman 1 Only set them thinking on a new subject, and if it con- 
 cerns their own interests, pride, or vanity, there is nothing you wish 
 them to think, they will not jump at of themselves. Who would have 
 thought that at the very moment I was whispering my suspicions to 
 her, that the devil himself, as it were, was furnishing a proof of what 
 even to me was only a conjecture ? By Jove, it was fortunate for mo 
 that something turned up to stop her mouth, or she would have carried 
 out her threat to tell her husband. I never saw so vindictive a look on 
 a woman's face as she wore when she left me — I rather over-stei)ijed 
 ray usual prudence in that matter and let my desire to accomplish my 
 object outrun my judgment. If I can gain possession of her — either 
 through love, fear, or a desire for revenge (and I don't care which) I 
 shall have the handling of this estate, and it cannot be worth less than 
 twenty thousand dollars, {he has been taking off his gloves during the above 
 and throws them in his hat at the words " twenty thousand dollars") Hallo, is 
 this mine'? {taking up the letter') With that amount I might replenish iny 
 fallen fortunes, and take a new start in the world, {looking at letter) Un- 
 liappy sister, mother and friend, Lilly Goldworth. By George! here is 
 a pudding, let's see if there are any plums in it. {reads) 
 
 " FORDHAM, 1871. 
 "My Dear Laura: — This is the first time I have been sufficiently 
 composed to indite a note to you since your departure. I do so now, 
 my dear, to let you know of my unhappy situation. You may remem- 
 ber, dear, the evening of your farewell ball, we were speaking of our 
 " loves and our lovers." (speaking) Singular infatuation of most married 
 women ; they must have a lover, if it's only a husband, {reading) " Our 
 loves and our lovers, and what the future had in store for us. Little 
 did I then imagine I should so soon be made to feel how unstable were 
 the pictures I then drew. That very night I was witness to a scene, 
 which satisfied me I no longer held a place in his heart (however much 
 he may make a show of it\ or if I do,' it is a divided throne, which I have 
 no desire to share, though Heaven knows I would willingly lay down my 
 life for that man, even in the face of the deceit he has practised on me. 
 Oh, Laura darling, there is no guarding against the inconstancy of man. 
 He whom I have worshipped as a god I find to be as false as water. 
 Heaven help me, I do not know what may be the issue of this, but be it 
 what it may, I will let you know as soon as I am satisfied in my mind 
 
16 LITTLE B.VBY. [aCT II. 
 
 what is the proper course to pursue. Goodbye, Laura, and may Heaven 
 guard you and yours from the .-^or.ows of 
 
 " Your unhappy sister, mother, and friend, 
 
 *■ Lilly Goldwoiith." 
 
 (looks at it carefully a moment, quietly reads a part of it over) By George, 
 there is not one word to indicate who the lover is ; I don't think thi.s let- 
 ter will go to Italy, not just yet. [takes a sheet of papfr, making a facsimile, 
 which he leaves on table ; the written letter he places in his pocket) With tiiis 
 I can arouse Goldworth's jealousy and make the house too hot to hold 
 them both. The means employed are rather questionable, to be sure, 
 but desperate cases require desperate remedies. 
 
 Enter Mart, showing on Lilly. Mary crosses, and exits h. 3 b. 
 
 Levick. Good morning, Mrs. Goldworth. 
 
 Lilly. Good moring. Mr. Goldworth, sir, has not yet returned from 
 the citj'. 
 
 Levick. So I have been informed by your servant, madam, and I can 
 hardly say that I regret it, as it procures me an uninterrupted interview 
 with you. 
 
 Lilly. Sir! what interview can you desire with me, of which you need 
 fear an interruption ■? 
 
 Levick. My dear Mrs. Goldworth, I wished to say to j'^ou that I am 
 fully aware of all the circumstances that transpired after you quitted us 
 so abruptly at the ball, and to express my regrets at having been the 
 means of making you realize your true position. 
 
 Lilly. Pray, sir, may I ask what you conceive my true position to 
 be] 
 
 Levick. That of a young and beautiful Avomau secluded from the gay 
 world, devoting her young life to domestic cares and duties, for a man 
 who might be her father, but who can and does divide his time and love 
 with a rival, and • 
 
 Lilly. Sir ! whatever may be my position, I beg you to remember, it 
 will not bear j'our sympathy or interference. If you cannot find em- 
 ployment enough to occupy your time with what concerns yourself, 1 tell 
 you now and forever, you must not and shall not intrude in that which is 
 mine alone. 
 
 Levick. I beg j-our pardon, but our pity for the unfortunate is some- 
 thing beyond our control, and I cannot but regret having been the cause 
 of sorrow to one who I so much respect and love. 
 
 Lilly (Imrrijied ), Love ! 
 
 Levick. Yes, love ! I did not mean to say so, but now that you know 
 it, I can no longer control my tongue. I love you and with a devotion 
 that is absorbing my very life. How, then, can I see you so young, so 
 lovely, so confiding, devoted, and yet so betrayed, and not express my 
 sorrow for your sad position. 
 
 Lilly. Rupert Levick ! would you dare to utter those words in the 
 hearing of John Goldworth 1 Coward, that you are, you were ever re- 
 ceived into this house on terms of equality, as a friend of Walter Arm- 
 strong. And like a serpent in the Eden of this once happy home, you 
 have scattered the seeds of discord and misery. I was happy in my 
 ignorance. What to me was the deception of this world, so long as I 
 was content, and knew not that I was a victim ? But you, you, with 
 your insidious wiles and insinuations, lifted up the veil that I might see, 
 and be wretched. But now you have gone one step too far, and I see it 
 was for your own vile purposes. I have been led to see things as they 
 
^CT II. J LITTLE RVRX. 17 
 
 were not, and imagination has given shape to circumstances but as you 
 formed them. Fool ! fool ! that I have been, not to have seen this be- 
 fore, and confided in my husband. One word of John Goldworth's would 
 have let in the light on your dark workings, {t/oinff io table l., taking up 
 letter, tearing it, and throwing it in the fire) Thus far the misery has been 
 only mine, and others shall not be made unhappy by the deception which 
 has been practised on me. 
 
 Levick (r.j. My dear Mrs. Goldworth, I assure you, you are deceived. 
 
 Lilly (turning'). I know it, sir ! I feel it here in my heart, that I am 
 and have been deceived ; but I shall be so no longer. My wild jealous 
 nature has blinded me for the moment until I forgot that great good 
 heart that has sheltered me from childhood's earliest years till now ; he 
 gave me his heart and home. Look j'^ou, sir, this home is his, and I re- 
 quest that you will leave it, and at once, and never let your presence 
 cast its shadow o'er that doorway again ! 
 
 Levick. Believe me, I am sorry you should have so mistaken me, 
 madam. 
 
 Lilly. Begone, sir ! I am no longer mistress of myself, and may say 
 that for which I would be sorry. 
 
 Levick. I do not wish to remain longer, madam ; since you will not, 
 or cannot, understand me, I will take ray departure. 
 
 Lilly. Until you do, sir, I shall. 
 
 Going to r, u. e. — meets RasT, who enters E, it. e., with hat. 
 
 Ruby. Mamma, may I go down the road to meet my papa 1 
 Lilly. Yes, my darling, and I'll go with you. Wait for ine until I 
 get a shawl. 
 
 Ruby. I'll wait for you at the gate, mamma. 
 
 She takes the child up and kisses if — puts it doiun and starts e. u. e. Ruby 
 exits c. and off l. during business. 
 
 Levick. By Jove, she must not meet him just yet. Stay, madam ! 
 What would you say if I gave you further proof ? what if I prove to you 
 that your husband's early return to day was not caused bj^ any anxiety 
 to see you, but to keep an appointment, almost under the shadow of your 
 roof, with another woman. 
 
 Lilly {turning on the step). Man ! if you are a man ! beware of what 
 you say ! do not tempt me beyond endurance. But be you man or 
 devil — give me, if you can, this proof — give it me so clear that there is 
 no room for doubt, and I will leave this house forever. Do not speak — 
 no words, sir ! the proofs ! give them to me, if you can ; but, until you 
 do so, never let me look upon you again, {calling) Mary ! 
 
 Enter Mary, l. 3 e. 
 
 Mary, .attend this gentleman. [Exit Lilly, disdainfully, e. 3 e. 
 
 Levick {very coolly). Mary, I don't think your mistress is very well. 
 By the way, Mary, do you value my silence with regard to the little oc- 
 currence of last evening 1 
 
 Mary. I do not know, sir, why I should ; more than that, I am well 
 aware of the folly of one in my position contradictmg any rumor started 
 by one in yours ; nor do I fear the consequence of such a rumor more 
 than that it might give pain to an honorable man who is shortly to be 
 my husband. 
 
 Levick. Very well reasoned indeed, Mary ; that's not bad for you. 
 
18 LITTLE RUBT. [aCT II. 
 
 Once stain the reputation of a woman, and let her be poor, no after strug- 
 gle of her life will remove the suspicion. Now you can insure my silence 
 by strictly obeying my injunction — we will be mutually in each other's 
 power, [looking al watch) At half-past three o'clock be in the arbor at the 
 end of the house, closely veiled. A gentleman may approach and speak 
 to you (or he may not) ; but should he do so, give him this letter, {tak- 
 ing letter from pocket) But by no means let him know who you are, or 
 from whom you received it. Should you betray me in this matter, it 
 might result seriously ; obey me, and it will be one hundred dollars in 
 your pocket. Will you do it 1 
 
 Mary. Is this all you require of me 
 
 Leviok. That is all. 
 
 Maky. I don't know if I arn doing right, but I will undertake it. 
 
 [Exit Mary, l. 3 e. 
 
 Leviok. 1 will leave a'note with the station master ; I have yet time. 
 
 Takes up his hat and going c. — meets Abel Swift, with bundle of papers. 
 
 Abel. Bless me. Master Rupert, you here ? Why, I thought you were 
 in New York. Is Mr. Goldworth at home ? 
 
 Leviok. No; he will be up by the 1:30 train. Why do you ask 1 
 
 Abel. Why, your aunt, Miss Betty, sent me over to him with these 
 papers. She wants his advice on the subject. She has more confidence 
 in him than anybody ; but I don't think lie is half as smart as you are. 
 
 Leviok. Thank you, Abel. Let me look at those papers. 
 
 Abel. But your aunt told me not to give them to any one but Mr. 
 Goldworth, and then into his hands alone. 
 
 Leviok. All right, Abel ; I am not going to run away with them, 
 {looking at them) Oh, oh, notices that the mortgages are about to be fore- 
 closed. Well, I have been looking for this, and now it has come. So 
 you are to give these into Mr. Goldworth's hands, are you 1 
 
 Abel. Yes, and as 5'^ou say he will be up by the 1:30 train, I will see 
 him at the depot, {going up c.) 
 
 Levick. Wait a moment, Abel, {sits at table writing — continues writing 
 during speaking) How is the colt, Abel ? 
 
 Abel. Beautiful, beautiful ! That linseed poultice I put on her knee 
 has fixed her beautiful. 
 
 Levick. Do you think she will be fit to work this evening ? 
 
 Abel. Well, she's so delicate, I don't like to see her work. 
 
 Levick. A little gentle exercise in the buggy will not hurt her. 
 
 Abel. Well, if she is not driven fast, or far, she may do pretty well. 
 
 Levick. I would like to try her for a short drive this evening. Bring 
 the buggy down to the end of the lane at five o'clock — will you 1 
 
 Abel. Very well, sir; but you must not hurt her. 
 
 Levick. Oh, I'll not hurt her. {coming down — fixing the letter he has 
 been writing in the packet) Now, Abel, be very sure you give Mr. Gold- 
 worth those papers just as they are. Be very careful, mind, and do not 
 forget the buggy. [Exit Levick, c. 
 
 Abel. Very well, sir. I'm not the one to forget anything you tell me, 
 Master Rupert. I think I love that little boy almost as much as I do 
 Betty. [Exit c., nrgicing thi point loilh himself. 
 
 SCENE ir. — A wood in \st grooves. 
 
 Enter Ruby followed by Goldworth, l. 1 e,, 'Rx: by carrying coat. 
 
 Ruby. Come, papa, what makes you walk so slow ; are you tired ? 
 
ACT II.] LITTLK TIITBT. 19 
 
 Gold. Not more than usual, my dear ; why do you ask 1 
 
 KuBT. Because you walk slow, and look weary. Don't you feel well, 
 papa y 
 
 Gold. Yes, my darling ; a liltle sad, perhaps. 
 
 Rdby. Sad, papa ? what makes you sad 1 
 
 Gold. Well, I can hardly say, my pet; but I was just thinking of two 
 children I saw to day, who will look with anxious eyes for the return of 
 their father, who will never come to them again. 
 
 Ruby. Why won't he come back to them, papa ? were they bad 1 
 
 Gold. No, my dear ; but their father was a sailor, and the ship in 
 which he was employed was lost at sea, and but two of all the company 
 were saved. 
 
 Ruby. Oh, papa, I'm so sorry ; then the poor little children have got 
 no papa? 
 
 Gold. No, my dear. 
 
 R0BY. Why don't you bring them home 1 
 
 Gold. I fear they would not come. 
 
 Ruby. Why? 
 
 Gold. Why? Well, I can hardly tell you, my dear; could you leave 
 lour ma to live with a stranger, if anything happened to me 1 
 A Ruby. No, papa, no. I love my mamma too well for that, papa. You 
 nil not go to sea in a ship, will you 1. 
 2 Gold. No, my darling. No, no, no. 
 
 Ruby. I am so sorry for those little children who have no papa ; can 
 /ou do nothing for them, papa 1 
 
 Gold. Not much, my dear ; the same misfortune that robbed them of 
 L their father, has deprived yours of the means of being of service to 
 ' them. 
 
 )l Ruby. Why, papa 1 You were not lost in the ship. 
 f Gold. No, my pet ; but you can scarcely understand the matter yet. 
 But tell me how it is, I find you so far from home 1 
 
 Ruby. Because you were so late. 
 I Gold. True, I missed the 1:30 train, and so lost an hour. 
 /' Ruby. Ma and I were coming to meet you, and you were so long, and 
 I got so far, I did not want to turn back, and so I came on. 
 
 Gold. But why alone "? You said your ma was coming; 
 
 Ruby. Yes, I was waiting for her at the gate, but she was talking to 
 Mr. Levick, and I guess forgot you. 
 
 Gold. Oh, oh, oh ! Ruby you must not talk like that ; something may 
 have occurred to detain her, but she could not forget me. 
 
 Ruby. I mean pa, that she forgot me, that I was waiting for her. 
 
 Gold. Well, we must hurry home at once, or she may be frightened at 
 my delay and your absense. 
 
 Unter Abel, k. 1 e. 
 
 Abel. Good day, Mr. Goldworth ; I was just going down to the depot 
 , to meet you. Miss Levick sent me over to give you these papers, and 
 I ask you to look over them, and give your advice on the matter ; she says 
 you know more about such things than any one else, even Master Ru- 
 pert, but. Lor', sir, she don't know him. 
 
 Gold. Nor any one else I fear, and if I may judge by your devotion 
 
 , to him, I scarcely think that you know him. {looking at paper.) 
 
 I Abel. Not know Master Rupert ? Why, I've known him since before 
 
 he was as big as Ruby there. And such a boy, ah, ah ! always up to 
 
 his eyes in mischief, just like Betty ; that's the reason I call her Rupert 
 
 ' Betty ; they were made for each other. 
 
20 LITTLK KUCY. [aCT 11. 
 
 Gold. Abel, from whom did you receive this package 1 
 
 Abel. From iNliss Betty Levick. A gentleman called yesterday and 
 left them. Miss Levick seemed in great trouble about them ; she says 
 they are going to take the house away. 
 
 Gold. Take the house away '? 
 
 Abel. Well, she says she wont lose it without a struajgie, and how she 
 can lose it without them taking it away, is something I don't know. 
 
 Gold. Did any one give you a letter for me 1 
 
 Abel. A letter? no, sir; I don't think they did, or I would have it. 
 
 Gold, {aside}. This is a masculine hand. Excuse me a moment, Abel. 
 Ruby, run along down the road — I will overtake you soon, {read.s) 
 
 '• John Goldworth — Dear sir, — Important papers, seriously compro- 
 misin;^ the honor of your wife, having come by accident into my hands, 
 I desire they shall be given to you, at half-past three o'clock this evening. 
 A person will be in the arbor at the end of your house, who will deliver 
 them into your hands. Believe me, sir, I am actuated in this matter by 
 a sincere regard for your welfare, happiness, and honor. 
 
 " An Unknown Fbiend." 
 
 (aj'ter a monwtiCs reflection, smiles) An excellent bait to catch some foe. 
 Some needy adventurer this, who wishes to levy a tax on my fear 
 gratitude ; but it will take something more substantial than this to sha 
 my confidence, (to Abel) Tell Miss Levick I will write to her ab< 
 these papers when I have examined them, {crossing, r.) Half-past tliret 
 I have yet time, and will see this person ; not that I suspect, or t" sa 
 isfy a doubt, but to silence a slander. [Exit, e. 1 e. 
 
 Abel {looking after Goldwoeth). Well, for an old man, that's the stu- 
 pidest man I ever saw. 
 
 Enter Levick, l. 1 e, 
 
 Levick. Abel, was not that Goldworth who left you 1 
 
 Abel. Yes, that was him. Do vou want him ? I'll go and oring him 
 back. 
 
 Letick. No, no, Abel. Did you give him the papers ? 
 
 Abel. Yes, I gave them. 
 
 Levick. What did he say 1 
 
 Abel. Not much. I don't think that man knows enough to say much. { 
 He said he would write about them. 
 
 Lkvick. Did he seem worried or annoyed at the contents of them ? 
 
 Abel. I don't think he read more than one of them. 
 
 Levick. Oh, he did read one, eh 1 And then started home 1 
 
 Abel. Yes, he started home to write to your aunt about those papers. 
 
 Levick. That will do, Abel. Do not forget about the buggy ; have it 
 at the end of the lane, as I told you, at five o'clock. 
 
 Abel. All right. Master Rupert ; Betty will be there and the buggy 
 will he there, and I will be there — damn it, we will all be there ! 
 
 [Exit, L. 1 E. 
 
 Levick. I will follow him. If Mary keeps her word, he will be sure 
 to see her, and must speak to her. Should he do so, I will bring his 
 wife to see them, and while the king is being played, it will be hard in- 
 deed if the knave and queen do not win the game. [Exit, a. 1 e. 
 
 SCENE III. — Garden scene with villa and arbor. 
 
 Enter ^Ixnr from house, at the opening of scene, heavily veiled. 
 
 Maky. I hope no one saw me leave the house. I do not know why it 
 
ACT II.] LITTLE KUBT. 21 
 
 is SO, this seems like a trifling matter, yet I feel as if I was about to 
 commit a murder. It wants but a few minutes to the time. I will re- 
 main unti! half-past three, and will have performed my part of the bar- 
 gain. He told me the person might not come. Heaven send thej' do 
 not ! I shall be more content. Hark ! some one is coming up the garden 
 walk. It is Master and little Ruby. I must not be seen by them. 
 
 [£xit into arbor, l. 2 e. 
 
 JEnter Goldworth and Ruby, l. c. 
 
 Gold. Here we are at home, (sees Mart — aside) Oh, oh ! a woman ! 
 1 thought as much. Woman, after all, is woman's greatest foe. {aloud) 
 Ruby, run in with papa's coat. I will come to you presently. 
 
 \Exit RuBT in house, k. 3 e. 
 
 Gold, (to Mart). Madam, I presume you are the person who wrote 
 me this letter. 
 
 Mart (very much frightened). No, sir. 
 
 Gold. 1 beg your pardon ; I was led to expect a person here at this 
 hour. 
 
 Mary. I did not send you a letter, for I am here to deliver one. 
 
 Enter Levick, cautiously, c, seeing them. JExits in house ; returns to conser- 
 vatory window with Lillt. 
 
 Gold. May I ask from whom you received this letter ? 
 
 Mart. I cannot tell you, sir. 
 
 Gold. Why not"? 
 
 Mary. I have promised, sir. 
 
 Gold. Pray how much money do you expect to receive for this won- 
 derful act of friendship ? 
 
 Mart. From you, sir, nothing. 
 ! Gold. Your generosity, madam, is greater than I expected. Please 
 let ma have this wonderful paper. 
 
 She hands him the letter ; he reads and kisses it, just as Lilly comes into the 
 window ; she is about to make an exclamation, when Levick admonishes 
 her to silence, 
 
 \ My poor little Lilly ! I see it all. Some viper has misled her judgment 
 in matters which I could not explain without causing her uneasiness. £ 
 will go to her at once, and explain all the cobwebs away, (to Mart) 
 Remain here a moment till I return. [Exits into house. ' 
 
 At the same moment Levick and Lillt mter from the window, Mart en- 
 ] ters from the arbor, l, 
 
 i 
 
 Mart. I have kept my promise, sir, but if evil comes of this 
 
 j Levick. My good woman, we have been witnesses of your stolen in- 
 '^ terview, and request that you will leave this place at once. 
 I Mart. But, sir 
 
 Lillt. Whose voice is that ? 
 / Levick. Go at once, madam, or you will be given in charge of the 
 police as an intrudei*. [Levick /orces Mary off is. u. e. 
 
 Lillt, coming up to satisfy herself, is stopped by Levick. 
 
 Lillt. Who is that woman ? her voice is strangely familiar. I will 
 know who she is. 
 
22 LITTLE EUBT. [aCT II. 
 
 Letick. Why seek to know ? I hope you are now satisfied of your 
 husband's infidelity. 
 
 Lilly. Silence, sir ! do not speak to me of him again. Take me 
 away from this place, take me away ; never let me look at it agaiu ; this 
 home, once so happy, has grown hateful to me. Take me aivay. 
 
 Levick. This way, madam ; I have a carriage near at hand, that shall 
 convey you to any place you may desire. 
 
 Lilly. Come, let us begone. {<going) Stay, this property — I will not re- 
 tain it, or anything that will remind me of the past. It must be given 
 back to him. 
 
 Levick. Nothing easier when we get to Yonkers ; you can give me a 
 power of attorney, and I can make a nominal sale or conveyance back 
 to him. Should j'ou do so he may seek to detain you. 
 
 Lilly. Anything, anything ; let me get away from here ; my reason 
 totters when I look around at scenes where I have been so happy, and 
 yet so wretched. Farewell, my darling little Ruby, and you who I have 
 loved with the whole strength of my woman's heart ! You shall find my 
 love, great as it is, has not choked my pride. 
 
 At change of mmic, Levick gently forces her off l. c. Enter Goldwoeth 
 from house. 
 
 Gold. I cannot find her; she may have stepped out into the garden ; 
 my good woman — gone ! This seems strange. Why, the place feels as if 
 it were deserted ; I suppose I am nervous. Mary ! Mary ! no answer ? 
 oh, perhaps she is with my wife, they will return presently, {sits on gar- 
 den chair) I will occupy myself until they return by looking over these 
 papers for Miss Levick. What's here, a notice of foreclosure of mort- 
 gages, executed by Rupert Levick ; purchase, of second mortgage 
 deeds — same property. Humph ! just as I expected, a gamester and a 
 spendthrift. These papers are more entitled to her lawyer's supervision 
 than mine, {writing with pencil on papers) I can't imagine how Walter 
 could make a friend of such a man. They are certainly very much un- 
 like each other. Ruby, Ruby. 
 
 Ruby [outside'). What is it, papa ? 
 
 Gold. Come here. 
 
 Enter Ruby. 
 
 Take these papers and place them on my desk, and tell your mother to 
 come here, please. 
 
 Ruby. Yes, papa. [Exit Ruby into house. 
 
 Gold. Strange, I cannot help thinking of how silly and absurd of 
 Lilly, to suffer a suspicion of me to make her unhappy. 'Tis not like 
 her j she should have come to me at once. 
 
 Enter Mary frmn l. and c , veil down, down l. c. 
 
 (seeing Mary) Excuse me, my good woman ; I-wisb to inform you that 
 your officious kindness to me and mine is uncalled for. (Mary throws 
 back the veil) What ! Mary ? 
 
 Mary. Yes, Mr. Goldvvorth, I have returned to confess all to you, sir, 
 {on her knees, l. c.) 
 
 Gold. Pray proceed, I am at a loss to understand this masquerading. 
 
 Mary. For myself, sir, I do not hope or look for your forgiveness, for 
 T have been made the dupe of a villain who has preyed upon my fears 
 until 1 became an instrument in his hands to undermine your happi- 
 ness. 
 
ACT II.] LITTLH KDBY. 23 
 
 Gold. My nappiness, my poor child 1 Explain yourself. 
 
 Maky. Mr. Levick became aware of my approaching marriage, and 
 by threats and insinuations of what might be the consequence of his 
 construction of the fact, I was induced to buy his silence by delivering 
 that letter to you. 
 
 Gold. I see no great crime in all this beyond the deception of disguise. 
 
 Mary. Alas ! sir, that was one of the conditions ; but I was innocent of 
 his design. 
 
 Gold. Pray, what was his grand design that was lo be worked out 
 by this deception ? 
 
 Mary. To prey upon Mrs. Goldworth's jealousy and cause her to 
 abandon you. 
 
 Gold, {starting forward). Hush! hush! j^ou are mistaken, you are 
 mistaken. 
 
 Mary. Pardon me, sir, I am not mistaken, for the moment you left 
 me they both came from the window there, where they had been watch- 
 ing our interview. 
 
 Gold. ( pauses a moment). Mary, go into the house and let this be a les- 
 son to you. No great good in life can ever be accomplished by dupli- 
 city or deceit. Go in, and wait for your mistress ; if she can forgjve you, 
 I will, {crossing l.) 
 
 Mart. Alas ! sii', I do not think she will return ; for after leaving Mr. 
 Maxwell's oflSce, she drove away with Mr. Levick. 
 
 Gold. With him 1 Oh ! no, no, no ! 
 
 Mary. Alas ! sir, it is true ! She was pale and weeping, and seemed 
 scarcely conscious of what she was doing — and it was this that brought 
 me back. 
 
 Gold, [sways as if about to fall, hardly realizing what has been told him). 
 Mary, go in, but do not speak to Ruby of this ; I will go and bring her 
 back. 
 
 Unter Ruby from r. u. e. 
 
 Ruby. I placed the papers on the desk, papa ; but I can't find mam- 
 ma. 
 
 Gold. Can't find her ! where can she be ? I will look myself. Come, 
 Ruby. 
 
 Goittg iotvards house, meets Abel and Mk. Maxwell, who enter c. Exit 
 Mary, r. 
 
 Abel. Mr. Goldworth, this gentleman was inquiring about j'our place, 
 and I thought I'd show him the way. 
 
 Gold. Good evening, sir ; will you step into the house 1 
 
 Maxwell. Thank you, sir, presently. I've merely called to look at 
 the place. 
 
 Gold. You are welcome, sir ; yet this is rather a strange hour to pay 
 a visit for such a purpose. 
 
 Max Well, sir, I am a man of business, and I never let a good thing 
 slip by me, on a question of time or circumstances. 
 
 Gold. I can appreciate the spirit from a business stand-point ; but am 
 at a loss to see how your visit here can effect your business. 
 
 Max. Sir, I am a prudent, as well as business man, and having pur- 
 chased this place, naturally feel a desire to inspect it. 
 
 Gold. Purchased this place *? 
 
 Max. Yes, sir, I may say so ; I have advanced five thousand dollars 
 on it ; the next payments fall due in six — twelve — and eighteen months. 
 
24 LITTLE IIUBY. [aCT II. 
 
 Gold. This estate ! 
 
 Max. What's the matter with you, s\r1 This estate, sir, honse, house- 
 hold effects, •implements, etc., etc., duly specified and set forth in ab- 
 stract. 
 
 Gold. My dear sir, you must be laboring under some mistake. This 
 property belongs to my wife. 
 
 Max. I am aware of the fact, sir. 
 
 Gold. And did you purchase it from her 1 
 
 Max. Indirectly I did ; I made the contract with her attorney. 
 
 Gold. Her attorney ! and who is the attorney 1 
 
 Max. Mr. Rupert Levick, sir. 
 
 Gold, (stands in a manner paralyzed. Ruby, seeing something is torong, 
 csmes to him, r. c, in front). Ruby, bring me the small tin box in the 
 parlor. {Exit Ruby into house, and returns without itaiting) It contains the 
 deeds of this property. 
 
 Ruby. Here it is, papa. (Goldworth takes the box, opens it - it is empty ; 
 he lets it fall.) 
 
 Gold. Gone ! 
 
 Abel (l.). Gone I yes, gone, more than two hours ago. Oh, Mr. 
 Goldworth, it is good I came, or I would have forgotten this letter for 
 you. 
 
 Gold. Forme! {reads) "John Goldworth — I know all. I must be- 
 lieve the evidence of my own eyes. I have left your home forever, and 
 bid you an eternal farewell. Lilly Steadman." {falls, c.) 
 
 Ruby {running to him). Oh, papa ! dear papa ! what is the matter ? 
 Here, mamma ! here, mamma ! mamma ! 
 
 She runs in the house calling, which is kept up in the distance, and returning 
 
 at cue. 
 
 Max. Here, please help me lift him up. This looks like apoplexy. 
 
 Gold, [recovering). I beg your pardon, gentlemen ; I am subject to 
 the heart disease. You must excuse me questioning you so closely. My 
 wife did right to sell this property. It — was — done by my advice. Yoii 
 — see, sir, I am in business, and — and accidents — will happen to the 
 most prudent ! disaster has come to me in the los.s of the ship Mercury 
 and the failure of the insurance companies. 
 
 Ihiter Ruby, from house. 
 
 Ruby {with Mary on steps). Oh, papa ! I want my mamma ! I can't 
 find my mamma. Where is she 1 
 
 Gold. I am about to pass through bankruptcy, and so could not sell 
 myself. 
 
 Ruby. Papa, I want my mamma ! 
 
 Gold. Not now, my darling. And so I wished my wife to sell. You 
 shall have possession at once — if you so desire 1 
 
 Ruby. Papa, where is my mamma ? 
 
 Gold, {falls on Ruby's neck). Do not ask me, my darling, for you 
 have no mamma. 
 
 Max. Poor man ! he has lost his senses. • 
 
 Abel. Well, I never thought the man had much sense to lose. 
 
 Ruby. Oh, papa ! don't look at me so ! Come, let us go in, papa. 
 
 CfOTj-Q. {looking wild). Yes, Lilly, my poor child, I know your papa's 
 gone ; but I will be a papa to you, my darling. 
 
 Ruby. Come, papa ! come, papa ! come home ! 
 
ACT ni.J LITTLE KVBX 25 
 
 Gold. Yes, I know your poor father left you without a home ; but 
 you slmll always find one in the shelter of nay heart. 
 
 As he staggers up, they try to direct his steps to the house. By this time the 
 stage is dark, and lights are seen in tlie villas in the distance The moon 
 is just rising ; music sounds from house. 
 
 ACT III. 
 
 SCENE I.- — A nral cottage room. 
 
 Lilly discovered at window, c. 
 
 Lilly. How beautiful the spring opens. All nature seems to rejoice 
 at the bursting of winter's trammels. The very waters, as they kiss the 
 shore and then go hurrying bj', seem to laugh for very joy. The white- 
 winged boats go dancing over the rippling waves, as though exulting in 
 their happj^ freedom — while I, I alone of all nature's works, feel as 
 though I were a curse upon my kind. Every object that I look upon, 
 ■which should give pleasure to the heart, to me appears a reproach. Oh '. 
 the lifelong misery I have endured is undermining my reason. It is 
 but fifteen short mouths since that terrible night, and yet it seems like 
 an eternity. My whole previous life gleams a solitary ray of sunshine 
 through the clouds, compared to that little space. The pleasures that 
 were to obliterate the past have turned to ashes on my lips, and my 
 heart yearns for my poor motherless little one — lostj lost to me forever ! 
 {her head sinks on the table, weeping.) 
 
 Enter Mss. Sacket, l. 3 e. 
 
 Mrs. Sacket, I beg you pardon, Mrs. Steadman, for intruding. Why, 
 you are ci-ying, my dear ! what is the matter ? 
 
 Lilly {quickly). Nothing, nothing that you can understand, {control- 
 ling herself) What is it you require, madam 1 
 
 Mrs. S. Well. I am sorry to press you, madam, but I sent my bill up 
 three days ago, and I am pressed for money ■ therefore, if you please, I 
 would like you to settle it. 
 
 Lilly. Your bill shall be settled as soon as the gentleman 1 have 
 sent to the city returns. 
 
 Mrs. S. Excuse me, ma'am, but you told me that when I sent the bill 
 up first. Has he not returned yet ? 
 
 Lilly. No, but I expect him at any moment ; should he not return 
 to-day, I will find other means of repaying you. 
 
 Mrs. S. I hope you will, madam, for I cannot wait. My bills must 
 be paid when they are due, and 1 must look sharp to have the money to 
 meet them. You must excuse me, madam, but business is business, and 
 mine won't bear trifling with. Good day, my dear — good day. {going) 
 Stop a moment. Here's a letter the postman left in our box — I suppose 
 by mistalve — and yet this is the house. It is for a Mrs. Goldworth. Do 
 you know such a person "? (Lilly starts as though to take it. Uemembers 
 herself, stops irresohdely c, looking wistfully at letter) Some acquaintance 
 of yours, i suppose. 
 
 Lilly. Yes — yes — a — a — friend. You may leave the letter. 
 
 Mrs. S. Very well, {placing it on table, l.) This looks strange, but it 
 
26 LITTLE KUBY. [aCT III. 
 
 is none of my business, so I will not meddle with it. You will not for- 
 get the bill, ma'am, if you please. 
 
 Lilly {with her eyes on the letter^. No, no ; it shall be attended to. 
 
 Mrs. S. Thank you, my dear. Good day, my dear ; thank you. 
 
 [Exit, L. 3 E. 
 
 Lilly. Oh, pride! where are you now 1 That name pronounced by a 
 stranger, and I stand like a criminal before her. She is gone. Now let 
 me hear an echo from the dear old home, {takes the letter, places it in her 
 bosom, and goes to door l. ; listens a moment, then to the window ; lets down 
 the curtains comes to table, k., and reads.) 
 
 " FoRDHAM, Mat 26th, 1873. 
 " My Dear Madam : — I only learned yesterday, through accident, 
 where a letter could reach you, and at once hasten to explain a part of 
 my conduct to you, and so relieve my mind of a heavy charge — for I 
 feel that I am the innocent cause of much of your unhappiness. On the 
 evening previous to your departure, I was.walking in the garden, after 
 the family had retired, with the gentleman who is now my husband. 
 Which fact coming to the knowledge of Mr. Kupert Levick, he threaten- 
 ed to expose me unless I would consent to do his bidding, which was to 
 deliver a letter to a person who would call for it at a certain hour in the 
 arbor near your house. Fearing the effect of such a report as he might 
 Invent, as I know him to be a man without principle or honor, I con- 
 sented. I was the woman you saw in the garden, but as Heaven is my 
 judge, I was ignorant of the evil pui poses to be effected by my presence. 
 I would have explained all to you tlien, but was terrified by his threats 
 and resolved to leave the house at once. Tour sudden disappearance, 
 leaving no trace behind you, has prevented my making this explanation 
 sooner, which I now do in the hope that you will pardon my share in 
 ♦bis unfortunate business. Many changes have taken place since you 
 left. The old home has passed into the hands of strangers ; I have pre- 
 vailed upon Mr. Goldworth to make his home with me so that I might 
 have the care of little Ruby, who never leaves her father now that he 
 has lost his mind, but watches him with the care and tenderness of a 
 woman. I know she grieves for, but never speaks of you, at least in his 
 presence, through fear of awakening memories that would be painful. 
 For he has lucid intervals which are more sorrowful than his simplicity, 
 for then be seems to be happy and only remembers the past. He seems 
 to be living his early life over again, and busy planning a grand future 
 for his darling little Lilly." {she crushes the letter to her eyes. Speaking) 
 Oh, God help me ; I can read no more ! my heart will break. Oh, tell 
 me, Heayen, why it is that our sex are made so weak, so helpless 1 no re- 
 dress for wrongs j why is it that every blow we strike but gathers force 
 to fall upon our own hearts'? Oh, Thou Father of the fatherless. Thou 
 strength of the feeble, watch over and sustain them. Let them not be 
 made to feel my punishment. Let me alone be wretched, for I alone de- 
 serve Thy wrath. 
 
 Falls with her head on table, weeping. Enter Letick, l. 3 e., a little tipsy. 
 
 Levick. Good morning, Mrs. Gold — I beg your pardon — Mrs. Stead- 
 man. Why, what are you crying for 1 {aside) That's what she was at 
 when I went away ; I thought then it was for her diamonds, but she 
 sticks to it. (aloud) Lilly, or Mrs. Steadraan,! think after such a long 
 winter, a little fair weather would not come amiss. Moisture may be 
 very good for agricultural purposes, but you are not interested in the 
 growing department ; you can get along without so much etoria. 
 
ACT III.] LITTE EUBY. 27 
 
 Lilly. Be not so sure of what you say. There is a something grow- 
 ing here iu my heart, that may make you tremble. 
 
 Levick. Make me tremble 1 I think I have got pretty well over 
 trembling at anything. The experience of the last two days has pretty 
 well hardened me. (sAe is xoalhing to and fro on the stage) Devil take the 
 cards and women too ; there is no understanding either of them. ( goes to 
 the piano r. rr. e. Sings.) 
 
 While I think of bygone days 
 
 Strange memory round me plays, 
 
 Of where grew the modest primrose and daisy, 
 
 And the future seemed so bright, 
 
 Wliile our pathway had the light, 
 
 From the eyes of our darling little baby. 
 
 (^she stops at table R., listens.) 
 But they've laid our darling down 
 In the cold, silent ground. 
 And nodding o'er her grave blooms the daisy ; 
 Like a flower gone to rest. 
 Asleep among the blest. 
 We will see no more our darling little baby.* 
 
 Lilly {tvho has fallen in chair durivg last part of song, starts up). Man, 
 man ! do yon wish to deprive me of my reason ? 
 
 Levick. Certainly not ; I wish you would come to your reason, and 
 try to look upon the world for what it is irorth, and not render the 
 future as miserable as the past. 
 
 Lilly. Tlie future be may care, sir; but of the present, did you pro- 
 cure the money fur me on those jewels I intrusted to you ? 
 
 Levick. Yes ; I got it. 
 
 Lilly. Your delay nearly caused me to part with my last memento, 
 to satisfy a demand for debt. Where is the money \ 
 
 Levick. I give it up, as the minstrel says. It has gone with the rest. 
 
 Lilly. You, surely, sir, have not appropriated to your own use mo- 
 ne.y which belonged to me 'i 
 
 Levick. Not intentionally. 1 thought I was using my own, until I 
 had no more to use, and then I found I had lost what was yours. Not 
 only that, but five thousand dollars besides, the last payment on a prop- 
 erty I sold. 
 
 Lilly. A property you sold 1 
 
 Levick. Well, then, not to put too fine a point on it, the property you 
 sold though me. 
 
 Lilly. The property I sold though you 1 
 
 Levick. Certainly. Didn't you give me the power of attorney to sell 1 
 
 Lilly. Rupert Levick, do you mean me to understand that you have 
 converted the property you were to convey back to my h — my child, to 
 other uses than I intended 1 
 
 Levick. You intended I should sell it, didn't you 1 
 
 Lilly. Yes, back again to them. 
 
 Levick. Not such a fool, thank you. My name is not Goldworth, but 
 Levick — a man who cannot be made to obey the beck and nod of a wo- 
 man, like a poodle dog. 
 
 Lilly. A dos ! What dog could be so lost to every sense of shame 
 as to steal the home from the helpless young 1 You were not content 
 to undermine the happiness of the mother by duplicity and deceit ! but 
 
 *Tbe Music of this song may be procured of Mr. Henby Tdckeb, No. 22 Eose st., 
 New York. 
 
28 LITTLE KUBY. [aCT III. 
 
 you must add to the cataloo;ue of youi- crimes by the base robbery of 
 her cliild of the shelter a provident father had provided. 
 
 Levick. I must plead guilty. I've a mania for selling ; but, you 
 know, ns in war, all's fair in love. 
 
 Lilly. Silence, sir! dare you speak such a word to me 1 Think you 
 the memory of my little child, or the teachings of that more than man, 
 her father, could leave room in my heart for such a sentiment, and for 
 such an object as you 7 
 
 Levick. Why then did you give me encouragement ? 
 
 Lilly. I give you encouragement! For fifteen months, that you 
 have persecuted me, driven me from one home to another, you have re- 
 ceived but one answer, and it shall be the same until the end of time. 
 
 Levick, Why then have you accepted of those attentions 1 why com- 
 missioned me with offices of trust, if not to give me hope ? 
 
 Lilly. Why did I do so ? I needed a servant, and my means would 
 not allow of my employing one ! 
 
 Levick. By Heaven, madam 1 do you mean you have made a servant 
 of me ? 
 
 Lilly. No, sir; -being a slave to your own base passions, you became 
 so voluntarily. 
 
 Levick. I believe I am, at last, a slave — to my love for you. 
 
 Lilly. You do not know aught of love, save love of self, of drink, and 
 of dissipation. I know you now ; would to Heaven I had known you 
 before. I know you are capable of the worst of acts, even to the ens- 
 ployment of my very servant for the purpose of deception. 
 
 Levick (aside). The devil j^ou do ! {aloud) Well, you see what a beau- 
 tiful thing nmtual confidence is ; 1 don't deny it! 
 
 Lilly. Heaven help me ! I thought I knew your baseness, but 1 
 could not dream of villainy like this. My little darling robbed of her 
 home, and they will imagine by me ! by nie, who would sacrifice my 
 very life to shield her from care or want. Want! my darling in want! 
 If so, ray place is by her side, and, thoush I beg niy way fioin door to 
 door, I'll go to them, and clear myself of this cliarge of inhumanity, and 
 denounce you, villain that you are, to the outraged law ! I do not know 
 what the law may call your deeds, but be assured, if there be justice in 
 this broad land, my little one shall have it I [taking up shaivl from table, r.) 
 
 Levick. Lilly, reflect a moment ! you would return ; to whom and to 
 what 1 Do you know in what light you now stand in the eyes of the 
 world ? 
 
 Lilly. The world ! what care I for the world ? I have never lived 
 for the world. When I thought I was the insulted, degraded wife, I did 
 not ask the world to adjust my wrongs ; nor shall fear of its opinion de- 
 ter me now from defending my child. 
 
 Levick. Society has adjudged you guilty, and cast you off. 
 
 Lilly. And that great Judge of all, who knows my innocence, will 
 acquit me of the charge. 
 
 Levick. Lilly, have a care how you proceed in this. I am not the 
 man to quietly submit to the exactions of a frantic woman, or be threat- 
 ened with the vengeance of the law. Be my actions what they may, in 
 the world's eyes my name is pure, and you shall not sully it, if I liave 
 to r 
 
 Lilly. Kill me 1 Do ! do so at once, and I will die thanking you, 
 for it would be the only kindness I have ever received at your hands. 
 
 Levick {getting gradually sober). I would not willingly harm you ; but 
 self-preservation is the first law of nature, and if you dare denounce uie, 
 I will kill you without remorse or pity ! {crossing near to u. u.) 
 
 Lilly. Remorse you cannot feel ; your callous nature will not allow 
 
ACT III.] LITTLE RtTBY. 29 
 
 you, and, helpless as you may think me, I should feel insulted by your 
 pity ! Rupert Levick ! I told you tliere was something growing in my 
 heart, which might make you tremble. I has grown, and is blooming . 
 strong and fierce. 'Tis hate ! hate for the man who first misled my 
 judgment ! hate for the common thief who robbed my little child ! May 
 the everlasting curse of the desolate and withered heart follow your 
 footsteps forever and forever ' 
 
 Ficture. — Close in. 
 
 ' SCENE II. — A chamber in \st grooves. 
 
 Enter Mart, showing in Walter and Laura, l. 1 e. 
 
 Mart. I am so glad to see you home once more. Miss Laura. I beg 
 your pardon, sir, but old habit is strong, and I fear I will hardly be able 
 to bring myself to call her Mrs. Armstrong. 
 
 Laura. Never mind, Mary, what you call me ; but tell me of my poor 
 father and Ruby. Where are they "? 
 
 Mary. They started off early this morning for a ramble in the fields. 
 Oh, x.liss Laura, a sad change has come over your father. You would 
 hardly know him now. 
 
 Laura. How was it this misfortune happened ? and so soon after our 
 departure ! She seemed so happy and contented ! I could hardly be- 
 lieve the evidence of my own eyes when I read your letter. 
 
 Mart. Good gracious me ! it is a long story and I don't know the 
 half of it; but this I do know — that friend of yours, sir, Mr. Levick, 
 made her believe white was black, and tortured her with doubts and 
 fears until I really think she went mad. Oh, my ! what a bad one he is. 
 
 Walter. Mary, why did you not write to us before, and let us know 
 of these occurrences sooner 1 . We only heard of it at Naples, where your 
 letter reached us. 
 
 Mart. Why, bless you, sir, I was married just at that lime, and get- 
 ting married is such a bother, and makes so much trouble for a poor 
 girl, tliat 1 had not time. Besides, I did not know where to write to. 
 Charles — that's my husband, miss — he wrote to England some place, 
 but never got a reply. Then we saw in the papers of your being at 
 Mount Vesuvius, and we wrote to you again in care of a great banking 
 house at Naples. 
 
 Walter. That letter reached us, and we returned at once to see after 
 Laura's father. 
 
 Mart. Bless you ! I see after him ; he makes his home here. I per- 
 suaded him to do so, that Ruby, the little woman, as I call her, might be 
 near me. Bless her ! she's more like a little woman than a child. 
 
 Laura. Mary, you state in your letter that my father has lost his 
 mind ; how is it then that he wanders about the country alone and un- 
 guarded ] 
 
 Mart. Oh, he is not unguarded — the little woman takes care of him ; 
 bet^ides, he is as harmless as a child, so mild, so gentle and patient, your 
 heart would bleed to look at him. Ruby can do anything with him ; he 
 is as obedient as can be to his little Lilly. Do you know, miss, I don't 
 think he has called her Ruby since that terrible night. 
 
 Walter. Have you any knowledge of her— Mrs. Goldworth, I mean "? 
 Where did she go 1 
 
 Mart. Lor' bless' you, sir, nobody could find out. I wanted to tell 
 her of the part that wicked man made me play, but I could find no trace 
 of her, or him either, until last week, Charles, that's my husband, you 
 
30 LITTLE EUBY. [aCT III. 
 
 know, saw him at a club house, where they have boats, you know. So 
 I naturally supposed he lived where she lived, and the day before yes- 
 terday, I sent her a letter, and (Abel is heard outside, l.) 
 
 Abel. Yes, yes; I know they have arrived ; they told me so at the 
 depot, and I am going to see him. 
 
 Laura. Who is that, Mary 1 
 
 Mary. Oh, ray ! it's that old potterer, Abel. We shall be talked to 
 death about that stupid Betty ; I declare, I have heard nothing but 
 Betty, Betty, for the last eighteen months, (crosses k.) Oh ! here he 
 comes. 
 
 Unier Abel, l. 1 e. 
 
 Abel. Ah ! Mr. Aimastrong, I am glad to see you back ; how do you 
 do ? And Miss Laura, I am glad to see you looking so well, 
 
 Lauka. Thank you, Abel ; I must congratulate you, also, on your 
 good looks. 
 
 ■ Abel. Yes, I'm pretty well ; but I've been sadly worried. Say, Mr. 
 Armstrong, you have been to Europe, ain't you 1 
 
 Walter. Yes, Abel ; I've been over a great part of it. 
 
 Abel. Well, did you see in your travels Mr. Rupert t 
 
 Walter. No, I am glad to say I did not. 
 
 Abel. Glad ! Well, I don't know why you should be glad. I'm sorry, 
 for if you had met him, you might be able to tell me, what he did with 
 Betty. He took her away just as I was getting on so finely with her 
 knee, and I want to 
 
 Walter. There, that will do, Abel, that will do. Never mind Betty 
 now. 
 
 Abel. Yes, but I do mind her ; see here, I will tell you all about it. 
 
 Betty was in the garden 
 
 - Walter. Yes, yes, I've heard all about that before, Mr. Abel; Mary, 
 can you give me any idea of which way they went this morning 1 
 
 Mary. No clear idea, more than they most always go in the direction 
 of Yonkers. 
 
 Abel. Yonkers, yes, that's the way they went; they drove that poor 
 little thing down the Yonkers road like mad — and all they left me was 
 the letter. 
 
 Walter. What letter 1 
 
 Abel. A letter for Mr. Goldworth. 
 
 Walter. Who gave you the letter 1 
 
 Abel. Why, Mrs. Goldworth, when they took away Betty 
 
 Walter. Never mind the rest. Mary, we will drive over in the direc- 
 tion of Yonkers and look around ; should they return before us, do not 
 let them go until Ave get back. Come, Laura. 
 
 Mary. I will show you out; I hope you will have no trouble in find- 
 ing them ; I am sure it will make the poor old man so happy to see you 
 again. (Mart leads the ivay, l. 1 e. Exit all except Abel.) 
 
 Abel. That's funny — I never thought of that before. If they went to 
 Yonkers, they took Betty to Yonkers If Betty is in Yonkers, I'll find her 
 in Yonkers — I'll to go Yonkers myself. {Exit, l. 1 e. 
 
 SCENE III. — Open country. Musie. 
 
 Enter Goldworth, led hy Ruby, r. u. e., ivho is dressed neat, hut plain. 
 Goldworth looks much the same as when seen before, but his hair pi'e- 
 maturely gray, and giving evidence of simplicity. 
 
 Gold. Lilly, my darling, I am so veiy tired. 
 
ACT m.J LIXTLE KUBY. 31 
 
 Ruby. Yes, I know, papa ; here is a nice place, we will sit down and 
 rest, {she leads him to the back and seats him on bank) There now, papa, 
 you have a nice place to rest ; don't you feel hungry, papa? 
 
 Gold. Eh ! hungry my dear 1 yes, yes, I am hungry. 
 
 Ruby. Sje, papa, I've brought some nice cake in my basket that 
 Mary gave me this morning. There, take some. 
 
 Gold. No, no, my dear ; I don't want to eat. 
 
 Ruey. Why, papa, dear, you said you were hungry. 
 
 Gold. Yes, yes ; I am, I am. 
 
 Ruby. Tlien, it is some water you wanf? 
 
 Gold. Yes, yes ; I suppose so. 
 
 Ruby {having tahen cup from basket brings water from 'R.). There, papa, 
 I've got you some nice water ; drink now. 
 
 Gold. Eh ! {seeing water, •petulantly) No, no, my child, I do not want 
 water. 
 
 Rdby. Oh ! papa, dear, whac is it you do want ? 
 
 Gold. I don't know, my darling — I don't know; something, something 
 that is not here ; something I am looking for — 1 will find it yet, I know 
 — I — know — I will. 
 
 Ruby. Come, papa, let us play ; let us play at housekeeping, papa, 
 won't you \ You be the dear good papa, and I'll be the little mother; 
 do please, papa, won't you to please rae ? 
 
 Gold. To please you, Lilly 1 Yes, my dear; you can ask nothing of 
 your father's friend that would please you, and be refused, my dear. 
 
 RysY. Well, you sit there now, and I'll spread the table and fix the 
 dinner, {she does so) And j'ou must be very hungry, and scold, oh ! so 
 much, if dinner is not ready in time, just like Mary's husband, you 
 know. Ha ! ha ! ha ! 
 
 Gold. Ha ! ha ! yes, I know, I know — I must scold ! ha ! ha ! Scold 
 you, Lilly 1 No, no, no, my darling, I must not scold you— not you, ray 
 darling. ( patting her head. ) 
 
 Ruby. Well, then, you must eat all the dinner. 
 
 Gold. Yes, yes ! ha ! 
 
 Ruby. Everything I put on the table you know. 
 
 Gold. Yes, yes, I know — I know. Ha! ha! ha! 
 
 Ruby. And we'll have such fun — ha! ha! Begin, papa; I am fixing 
 the table. 
 
 Gold. Must I eat now \ 
 
 Ruby. Yes, eat everything as fast as you can, so that the things will 
 be gone when the little mother looks for them. 
 
 Ruby entraps him into play ; he eats and laughs ; she joins in the laugh, un- 
 til, overcome by her feelings, she bursts out crying and falls in his lap. 
 
 Gold, {looking surprised). Why, Lilly, my darhng, you are crying ! 
 What's the matter ? You must not cry ; did I not play right 1 
 
 Ruby. Yes, yes, papa. 
 
 Gold. What makes you cry then 1 
 
 Ruby. I don't know, papa, but I — am — so — so — so — happj- — I — I — 
 think — to see you play so. 
 
 Gold. Lilly, my darling, do you want me to play some more 1 I will 
 do it, I will. For you must soon go to school and learn, while I work, 
 and make such a nice home for you and — and — my other little pet, my 
 little Laura. She is not near so large as you, and when you come home 
 from school, you will have a little sister to play with. You shall play 
 at housekeeping then with her ; you will be the little mother and she 
 will be the baby. We will be so happy then, won't we, Lilly ?^ , 
 
32 LITTLE EDBT. [aCT III. 
 
 RiTBT. Why, papa, Laura's gone away, you know. 
 
 Gold. Laura gone away 1 Oh, no, no, my dear ; Laura's with her 
 nurse ; she's only a tiny little thing yet, but she'll grow, I hope, and be 
 a sister to my darhng Lilly, 
 
 EuBr. Oh, papa, why do you call me Lilly 1 
 
 Gold. Why, that is your name, my love. Yes, that is the name your 
 poor father called you — see, he says so in this letter, {takes old letter out 
 of poc/cet) See — "My darling little Lilly — her tender nature of which 
 her name is a type." You see your name is Lilly. 
 
 Ruby. AVhy, papa dear, you always called me Ruby. 
 
 Gold. Ruby ! Ruby ! Why, that's the name of — my — Oh — I remem- 
 ber — you are my little treasure — and Lilly — Lilly is the name of — [look- 
 ing around) Where is your mother, my child ? 
 
 Ruby. You told me, papa, not to speak of her, you know, when she 
 went away. 
 
 Gold. Went away ! why did she go 1 Hush ! hvish ! my child — no 
 word of her — no word of her ! 
 
 Ruby. Dear papa, why ! why must I not speak of my dear mamma % 
 
 Gold. I don't know ! I don't know ! I don't know ! You can't under- 
 stand, my darling ; but, if you speak of her, others may do so too, and 
 so wound your tender little heart. 
 
 Ruby. But, papa, I do so love ray mamma. 
 
 Gold. That's right, that's right, my darling ! love her, for she was 
 always good and kind to you, and loved you, darling, dearly. 
 
 Ruby. And don't you love her too, papa % 
 
 Gold. Oh, my child ! my child ! I cannot tell you how much. I could 
 never tell her, God help me ! I did not know myself. {IMes his face') She 
 was, as a vestal lamp, on the altar of my heart. What 1 have done lo 
 lose her I don't know. But I will find her again, and the fire will burn 
 as brightly as before. 
 
 Enter Abel, l, u. e., looking around; comes down slowly, l, c. 
 
 I will find her, I know I shall. Come, mj' dear, we will go and find her. 
 {going tawards L. u. e.) 
 
 Abel. Find her ! what! you? Well, I've been looking for her all 
 over this place, and I can't find her. 
 
 Gold. And were you looking for her too ? That is so kind of you. 
 If you find her you will let me know, will you not 1 
 
 Abel. Let you know ! Well, I didn't think you cared much about it, 
 one way or the other ; j^et why not 1 everybody liked her. 
 
 Gold. Yes, everybody. 
 
 Abel. She was such a beautiful creature ! 
 
 Gold. Beautiful ! Yes, she was lovely in my eyes, lovely ! 
 
 Abel. Now I like to hear you talk that way. I never thought you no- 
 ticed her much. 
 
 Gold. Why should I make a display to the thoughtless world of my 
 regard for her 1 
 
 Abel. Very true ! Do you know, I love to talk to any one who was 
 fond of her. What a splendid way she carried her head I 
 
 Gold. And yet so gentle, so kind and loving. 
 
 Abel. Kind P V/ell, when the fit was on her, not quite so gentle as 
 you might think ; at least I ditln't find her so. 
 
 Gold. Ah, that was because you did not know her. 
 
 Abel. Not know her ? What, me ? Why, I've known her since before 
 she was as high — as — as little Ruby, there. 
 
 Gold. Did you? Why, then, you must have known her father. 
 
ACT III.] IITTE EUET. 33 
 
 Abel. Know her father ! I should say so. Why, T attended him for 
 years. 
 
 Gold. Ah ! then, you must know she was not, not so bad, not quite so 
 bad, as those people say she was. 
 
 Abel. Why, that's just what I always said ; who could look at her, 
 that knew anything about it, and say slie was bad 1 
 
 Gold. Or look into her soft, tender eyes, beaming with love and kind- 
 ness. 
 
 Abel. Stop, there ; there 1 must disagree with you. Much as I re- 
 spect your judgment, I must say there was a malicious twinkle in her 
 eye, at times, that it was just as well to look out for. 
 
 Gold.' No, no, 'twas the natural fire of youth ; health, and spirits that 
 will shine and sparkle in the eyes ; why, then, find fault with nature's 
 greatest gifts ? 
 
 Abel {aside). I never thought so before, but this is a remarkable 
 man. {aloud) Mr. Gold worth, you are the only man I ever heard give so 
 unprejudiced an opinion about her. 
 
 Gold. I am the only man you ever saw, who loved her so. 
 
 Abel {surprised). You loved her 1 
 
 Gold. With all my heart and soul ; aye, and she loved me, and does 
 so still. I know it, I know it. 
 
 Abel {regarding him with contempt). Why, you stupid old ass ! What 
 are you talking about 1 
 
 Gold. About her, about her — my wife — ray poor,, misguided Lilly. 
 
 Abel. Your wife 1 
 
 Gold. Yes ; when you find her, bring her to me. Tell her not to fear, 
 
 Abkl {loohs disgusted, goes to l. 2 e., tui-ns and looks at him). Darned old 
 fool ; don't know a horse from a woman. He'll find her ! if he does he 
 won't know it. [Exit Abel, l. 2 e. 
 
 Gold. I knew we should find her, T always knew it, but said nothing. 
 Come, Lilly, my child, we will follow him : when he finds her we will be 
 there. Come, my child, we will find her, I know. I feel it, I feel it ; 
 come, come. [Exit Goldwoeth and Ruby, l. 3 e. 
 
 Enter Walter and Laura, r. 1 e. 
 
 Laura. Ai'e you sure, Walter, we are following the right directions ? 
 
 Walter. I think so, my dear ; they told us to follow this path to the 
 river, and here we are at the river. They were seen in this neighbor- 
 hood, and cannot be far off. 
 
 Laura. I tremble lo think what may have happened to a silly old 
 man, and helpless child ; so near a river too. 
 
 Walter. Give yourself no uneasiness, my dear; he has been here 
 often they say, and the river can have no new attraction for him. I am 
 more annoyed at the letter Mary sent than anything else. 
 
 Laura. Why so, Walter ? 
 
 Walter. I think she did wrong to communicate with her at all. 
 
 Laura. She wished to exculpate herself from any complicity in the 
 ninltpr. You surely do not censure her for that? 
 
 Walter. No, my dear, not for that ; but she may have said something 
 which might be construed into a hope for a pardon, and so cause her to 
 return. 
 
 Laura. Would that be a misfortune, Walter ? 
 
 Walter. I think it possible ; it might result unfortunately. 
 
 Laura. I do not understand you. 
 
 Walter. My meaning is this, Laura. If, as Mary says, your father 
 has lost his mind, it is an evidence of dotage, in which case, he forgets 
 
34 LITTLE RUBY.. [aCT III. 
 
 her conduct and his sufferings. Revive not the subject, and the balance 
 of his days may be passed in comparative happiness, but open the old 
 wound, and who can tell the fatal effects which may follow? 
 
 Laura. Would it not be better for all, were she to return 1 
 
 Walter. My dear, that is a question which only those concerned can 
 answer ; I believe your father's love to be such as to make him forgive 
 the erring cause of his uniiappiness; still I think his pride would revolt 
 from sharing the dishonor. 
 
 Lauica. Walter, if you knew her heart as I do, and I have known it 
 from childhood, you would not charge her with dishonor. 
 
 Walter. The charge is not mine, dear ; her own action in abandoning 
 her home, has given the world the right to judge her, and you know, my. 
 dear, the world is only too ready to pronounce a woman guilty. 
 
 Laura. Wayward and thoughtless, jealous and revengeful she may 
 be, but my heart, conscious of her honor, vouches for her purity. 
 
 Walter. Be that as it may, my dear, you cannot make him or the 
 world believe you ; hence any revival of the past will only add to his 
 misery. 
 
 The^ retire up in discussion, Enter Lilly, l. 1 e., looking hack ; she has a 
 veil over her face. 
 
 Lilly. I cannot tell why I think so, but I am sure I have been fol- 
 lowed, and should he overtake me he may execute his threat. If Heaven 
 only spares me to reach them, and clear myself of this new charge, then 
 welcome death, for I have lived long enough, {seeing Walter, who has 
 his back to her) I beg your pardon, sir, I wish to reach Fordham. Can 
 you inform me where I can obtain a conveyance 1 
 
 Walter. Yes, madam ; you are welcome to a seat in my carri — great 
 Heavens ! it is Lilly. 
 
 Lilly. Walter ! and Laura ! {turning to run l.) 
 
 Walter. Stop, Mrs. Goldvvorth ! 
 
 Lauka {crossing, and catching her). Stay, Lilly, dear Lilly ; 'tis I, your 
 friend and sister. 
 
 Lilly. Sister ! Laura, you know not what you say ; I did not think 
 to see you — to ever see you more this side the grave. 
 
 Laura. But now we have met, you will not repulse me, dear sister ? 
 
 Lilly. Laura, do not add to my torture by your kindness ; one so 
 good and innocent as j'^ou are, can have no thought in common with 
 such a wretch as you must think me. 
 
 Laura. Dear Lilly, I think you pure and good, as I have ever known 
 you, for I know your heart ; from the happy olden days when, with a 
 mother's care and sister's fond affection, you tended my childish way- 
 wardness. To me you are still the same, and though the world may 
 turn from you, you shall ever find a friend in me. 
 
 Walter {who has besn up stage, comes down to Laura). Laura, T will 
 leave you to yourselves a moment ; but make this interview as brief as 
 possible. 
 
 Lilly. I understand j''ou, sir. (^JExit Walter, l. 3 e.) Heaven sup- 
 port me ; my punishment it more than I can bear. I had armed my- 
 self, I thought, to meet his angry eye, confess my folly, and die, but 
 not your kindness, Laura ; tell me of them, of him, of my poor mother- 
 le.ss child ! 
 
 Laura, I cannot ; I have not seen them yet. I only came home yes- 
 terday, and we are now looking for them. They have been seen in this 
 n;'igiiborhood. 
 
 Lilly. Ruby then is with him 1 
 
ACT III. J LITTLK UTJBY. 35 
 
 Laura. Oh, yes ! she never allows him to go out without her. 
 
 Lilly. Oh, that I could see her ! once more clasp her to my aching 
 heart and ease this pain which is killing me. 
 
 Laura. Lilly, why not return, and confess your folly ? My father, I 
 am sure, would open his arms-to receive you. 
 
 Lilly. But would tiie world receive me 1 Tiie empty, heartless, cal- 
 lous world ! would it believe the story of my wrongs 1 No ! and would 
 you have me ask that noble man to share my burden ? I could not. I 
 am here only to have justice done my child, and denounce the robber 
 who stole away the home her father gave me. 
 
 Ladra. Why, Lilly, dear, who could be so base as to rob your child ? 
 
 Lilly. That fiend, who first entrapped my judgment, and then plun- 
 dered my little one ! Heaven ! when I think of all the deceptions which 
 have been practised on me, it seems my brain must burst. Oh ! Laura, 
 you cannot know the torture of a doating wife, when she is led to doubt. 
 Falsehoods, resembling truth, presented to her eyes* for proof, until in 
 her madness, she barters for revenge the eternal jewels of her mind, and 
 makes all her future life a chaos, {crossing to r.) 
 
 Enter Walter, l. u. e., doivn to Laura. 
 
 Walter. I see Ruby, and an old man coming this way ; you had bet- 
 ter send her out of the way. Send her to the hotel for a conveyance, 
 and we will drive to the city with them. (Walter retires up stage.) 
 
 Laura. Lilly, Walter says you can obtain a carriage at the hotel, to 
 take you to Fordham. 
 
 Lilly [aside). There is proof of what the world will think. When he 
 thought me a stranger, I was welcome to a seat in his carriage, {sees 
 Laura looking off i,. Aloud) Laura, you too are deceiving me. Thej' 
 are near me ; you said you were looking for them. You have found 
 them 1 Speak ! speak ! Are they near us ? 
 
 Laura. Yes, Lilly dear; but Walter thinks it best that you should not 
 see them. At least, not just yet. 
 
 Lilly. Oh, Laura! Laura! Would you prevent me seeing my little 
 darling ! It may be for the last time on earth. 
 
 Laura. No, Lilly ! not I ; but Walter fears the consequences of such 
 a meeting. 
 
 Lilly. Oh! Laura, darling, plead for me. {Icneels to her) Plead for me 
 by the memories of the jjast — one — word — let your woman's heart speak, 
 not for the wife,- but for the mother — the mother who asks to see her 
 only child. T will not seek to look at him, but her ; to kiss the image 
 of the father in the child, and then hide myself forever from your sight. 
 {weeping at her feet.) 
 
 Laura. Oh, Walter ! look at her ; grant her prayer for my sake ! 
 
 Walter. Laura, I can refuse you nothing ; still I do not apjjrove of 
 the step. I will occupy the old man's attention, and send Ruby to you. 
 
 [Exit Walter, l. 3 e. 
 
 Laura. Courage, Lilly, courage! she is coming; you must hide your 
 grief from her, for though she knows thei-e is a sorrow, she does not 
 comprehend its nature. 
 
 Lilly. Trust me ! I will be strong ; only let me hold my darling in 
 my arms, and I will be strong. (,Ruby, speakvng outside, l. u. e.) 
 
 Ruby, Oh, sister Laura ! Come back to us again ? 
 
 Enter Ruby, l. u. e. 
 Dear Laura, I am so glad ! kiss mo, Laura, again. Come and see papa; 
 
36 LITTLE ETTBT. [aCT III. 
 
 he will be so pleased. (Lilly 1ms been standbign., struggling to control her- 
 self ; but stretching out her hand luiscfully towards Ruby.) 
 
 Laura. In a moment, Ruby, dear ; here is another lady wanting to 
 see you. 
 
 Ruby. Where 1 Oh, it's my dear mamma ! {running to her) Dear, 
 dear, mamma. Oh, mamma! why did you stay away so long? 
 
 Lilly. My darling little baby, I couldn't help it. 
 
 Ruby. Oh, Laura ! I'm so glad you brought me back my mamma. 
 
 Lilly. Yes, my treasure, I am here with you again; kiss me, my 
 darling. 
 
 Ruby. What makes you cry, mamma? Are you not glad to be back 
 again with Ruby 1 
 
 Lilly, Oh, my child ! don't, don't ask me ! don't ask me. {Jcissing 
 her) Did you miss me then so much, my pet ? 
 
 Ruby. Oh, so much, dear mamma ! but now you are back again, you 
 will not go away anymore, will you, mammal 
 
 Lilly. My darling, you must forget me. I cannot remain with you 
 long; your love would kill me. For, like a bad mother, I abandoned 
 you without a cause and lost the right to love you. 
 
 Ruby { putting her hand over Lilly's mouth). No, no ! you are a good 
 mother — papa says so. Only this day he said I must always love you, 
 for you were a good mamma, and loved me deai'ly. 
 
 Lilly. Oh, Heaven ! whj^ cannot I die now with forgiveness from an 
 angel's lips sounding in my ears 1 Rub}^, my darling, when I am gone, 
 do not forget me, but pray, pray for your unhappy mother. Mv darling, 
 farewell ! my heart which breaks at parting, (aside) But it will soon beat 
 rest. 
 
 Laura (coming foi-ward). Lilly. I see him ! he insists on coming this 
 way. 
 
 Ruby. Papa, papa ! come here. Here is mamma. 
 
 Lilly (catchimg her, and bringing her bach). No, no, no ! he must not 
 see me here, {takes Ruby in her arms) Farewell, my darling ! Heaven in 
 its mercy watch over and guard ray poor motherless child. 
 
 Gold, (outside). I know, Walter, I know the shock may startle her • 
 but I must see her. 
 
 Lauka. Quick, Lilly! they are coming, 
 
 Lilly (kissing Ruby). Good bye, my dearest. God bless you and him 
 forever. (Lilly going r.. Ruby catches her dress, and holds her still.) 
 
 Ruby. No, no, mamma ! you shall not go. See, here is papa. 
 
 Enter Goldwouth and Walter. Laura goes up to her father and in the 
 embrace turns him with his back to the r. Walter seeing Lilly re- 
 maining, crosses over anl stands between her and Goldworth. 
 
 Gold. Laura, my darling, Walter did not want me to come to you. 
 You have comu back to the old man at last. Oh, I have been so lonely 
 without you. Every one had gone, and I felt as if I had outlived mj' kind, 
 and was only waiting for the day to come that would let me rejoin them 
 in the grave. But you are here again, and we shall be happy now. 
 
 Laup* Dear father, why did you not write to us, and let us know of 
 your trouble 1 And we would have returned sooner. 
 
 Gold. Why should I pour an old man's cup of sorrow into your firist 
 draught of pleasure ] No, no ! my dear ; 1 alone should suS(?r, for I 
 alone was to blame. I williheld my troubles from her, and she felt the 
 want of confidence, I know — I know her heart. Her head may have 
 erred, indeed ; but her heart, I know is pure and good. (Lilly sobs and 
 covers her face) Hark! what was that? Again it falls upon my heart 
 
ACT III.] LITTLE IIUBY. 37 
 
 like the fragment of an old familiar air. {he ticrm, looking around the 
 stage ; motions Walter out of the way, loho takes B,0by up stage very ten- 
 derly) Oh, you have come back to me ! I knew you would— I 1 
 
 — know you — you are my little Lilly. Oh ! do uot turn away from me, 
 my child. A father stretchs forth his arms to receive his wanderer back 
 again. I — know — you — you are the bright-eyed child of Charles Stead- 
 man — he who gave an aim and [)ur[jose to m}^ life — I know that like the 
 prodigal, your feet have wandered from the parent fold, and like the 
 prodigal, the door stands open to receive you. 
 
 Lilly {falling on her knees before him). Oh, John ! husband ! father ! 
 can you forgive me % 
 
 Gold. Forgive yon, Lilly ? What is there the child of Charles Stead- 
 man could ask of John Goldworth, and he refuse itl 
 
 Lilly. Oh ! John, do not speak to me in kindness, if you would not 
 kill me; I cannot bear it. Curse me, John, for 1 have blighted your 
 life. 
 
 Gold. Blighted? No, you have blessed it, Lilly; and let me now bless 
 you in return. 
 
 Lilly. I do not deserve it, John. I have be — {looking at him) Ohl 
 Heavens! what a change ! [weeps.) 
 
 Gold. Yes, Lilly, the old tree is withered now, but there is strength 
 enough left in its branches to protect and shelter you. 
 
 Lilly. Oh, John ! the shelter you once provided, I basely abandoned ; 
 and you must think T robbed yoa and my little one of your home. 
 
 Gold. Hush, Lilly ! no word of that; the home was yours, not mine. 
 To give you pleasure I jjrocured it ; and if it served that end, it did all 
 I wished it. 
 
 Enter Levick on rock, r. u. e. 
 
 Lilly. And that I should have been basely robbed of it. 
 
 Walt kr. By whom 1 
 
 Lilly. Oh, that man — that man ! who was to return it to them — and 
 treacherously sold it. 
 
 Gold. Let it go, my child ; let it go. I will make you another after 
 this troubled scene — where you may forget the past, {taking her up, pass- 
 ing her in front of him, timing the action to the words of Levick, so as to 
 place himself, without seeming to do so, in the line of Jire.) 
 
 Levick. She is telling them, and I'm too late. Lilly, I told you what 
 you might expect, {fires and Exits e.) 
 
 The slwt brings on a Boatman or Villager, who gives chase at the word. 
 
 Walter. Pursue him ! Let him not escape. (Goldworth, who has 
 been shot, is caught by Walter, who lays him c.) 
 EuBY. Oh, my papa ! my papa ! ^ 
 
 Lilly. John, John, this is my work ! ! {speaking simultane- 
 
 Laura. Dear father, are you hurt'? { ously.) 
 
 Walter. Mr. Goldworth, are you hurt, sir 1 J 
 Gold. Hurt ? No, no ! all the pain at last is gone. 
 
 Enter Villager, e. 
 
 Walter. Have you secured him 1 
 
 Villager. No, sir ; he leaped into the river, and was drowned. 
 Walter. Well, it is no great loss. 
 
 Gold.- {mind wandering). Yes, I will care for her ; she shall never feel 
 his loss — I will be a father to her. Come — come — come — we must to 
 
38 LITTLE KDBY. [aCT III. 
 
 work, work, if we would repair tlie damage; work, and make a home for 
 our little birds to sing in. 
 
 Lilly {weeping). Oh, Walter ! he is dying. 
 
 Laura. Father, dear fnther! speak to us. 
 
 RuBV. Mj' papa! my dear papa ' 
 
 Gold. Who calls 1 
 
 Lilly. It is I, John — your erring Lilly. Dear John, say that you for- 
 give me. 
 
 Gold. Forgive you, Lilly ? yes. As your father sheltered me, may 
 that great Father of all, who is in Heaven, pardon and shelter you. 
 {dies.) 
 
 CURTAIN. 
 
 PROGRAMME OF INCIDENTS FOR SMALL BILLS. 
 
 ACT I.— The Setting- ! 
 
 A Happy Home— The Confession— The Marriage Ball— An Elegant Misfortune in 
 a New Friend — Chicago on Fire— The Merchant Settling Accounts— Love's Ciueriea 
 — News from Europe— A Listener— The Father Superior to the Man— The first 
 Shade oif Doubt— Confirmation of Disaster — The Husband and Father Satisfied. 
 
 ACT H.— Jealousy I 
 
 The Tempter— The Wife— A New Postman— The Gamester— The Father and 
 Child — A Husband's Confidence— The Cards in Hand— The Dupe — The Interview — 
 The Watchers — The Elopement— Misplaced Confidence — Awaking to Facts — A 
 Child's Devotion— Broken Jewels. 
 
 ACT III.— Remorse ! 
 
 A Wasted Life — Recrimination — Nature Uprising — A Woman's Scorn— Return 
 from Europe — The story of " The Little Woman " — Wandering Fragments— A 
 Change of Places — Cross Purposes— An Inside View of Private Life — The World's 
 •Opinion- Woman's Friendship Superior to Public Prejudices— The Wanderer- 
 Mother and Child— A Father's Welcome to the Prodigal— Memories of the Past— 
 The Sacrifice— Cast hack to Earth. 
 
 STAGE DIRECTIONS. 
 
 B. means Right of Stage, facing the Audience ; L. Left ; C. Centre ; R. C. Right 
 of Centre ; L. C. Left of Centre. D. F. Door in the Flat, or Scene running across 
 the back of the Stage ; C. D. F. Centre Door in the Flat ; R. D. F. Right Door in 
 the Flat; L. D. F. Left Door in the Flat ; K. D. Right Door ; L. D. Left Door ; 1 E 
 First Entrance ; 2 E. Second Entrance • TJ. B. Upper Entrance ; 1, 2 or 3 G. First 
 Second or Third Grooves. 
 
 R. R. C. C. L. C. L. 
 
 BS~ The reader is supposed to be upon the stage facing: the audience. 
 
De ^Vitt's Acting Plays — Continued. 
 
 The Midtiij^St VTatch. Drama. 1 Act. 
 
 Bv Jolm M. Morton. 8 Male, 2 Female Clmr- 
 
 acteia. 
 The Port«-r'.s Knot. Serio-Comic Drama. 
 
 2 Acts. By Jolm Oxent'ord. 8 Male, 2 Female 
 
 Clmractei-s. 
 A Model for a Wife. Farce. 1 Act. By 
 
 AltVea Wigaii. 3 .Uale, 2 Female Cliaractera. 
 A Cup of Tea. Comertietta. 1 Act. By 
 
 Charles Niiitteraii.lJ Derley. 3 Male, 1 Fe- 
 
 Farce. 1 Act. 
 :nal»i Ctiaracters. 
 F.t.>Te. 1 Act. 
 2 l»e-na!e Char- 
 
 male Chi 
 Gertrui 
 
 By Uarr: 
 The You-«7 Collegian, 
 
 By T, W. Kowertauu. 3 Male 
 acters, 
 Catherine CSoTr«rd5 or, The Throne, the 
 
 Tomh and tlie .S^.^Bfohl Htstoric Pl»y. 3 Acta. 
 By W. D. Sliter. 13 Hale, 6 Female Characters. 
 
 T«ro eay ISeceiverK; or, Bl«ck, ATliite 
 and Grav. Fai-ce. 1 Act. By T. W Kobert- 
 eon. 3 iL.lle CWamrt^ra. 
 
 nioemie. Brama. 1 Acts. By T. W. Robert- 
 son. 4 i»ale, 4 r'oiQale Characters. 
 
 Beborah 'Lfahl ; or. The Jewish Maiden's 
 Wrons. Drama. S Vets. Br Chas. Smith 
 
 OheltBam. 7 Male, I 
 The I»«>st-55^y. I 
 
 OraTSH. .5H^e,3r 
 The Bidden Bin 17 
 
 Poith Vnuiion. » 
 Tavlor. 5 >Iale. 5 ) 
 
 [lale Qjaracters. 
 
 or, The Glray Lady of 
 4 Acts. By Tom 
 ale Characters. 
 
 Plot and FsK.^ion. Drama. 3 Acts. 
 
 Tom Taylor. 7 iiale, I Female Characters. 
 AlPhot«g:rap!iic rix. Farce. 1 Act. 
 
 Frederick Hay. 3 Male, 2 Female Char 
 
 By J. l". Wooler. 5 Male, 3 Female Char; 
 tors. 
 
 A Honsehold Fmlry. 
 1 Act. By Francis TaJt 
 male Ohanw-ters. 
 
 Cheekaaate. Oonaedy Farce. 2 Acts. By 
 Andrew Ualliday. 6 Male, 5 Fomale Charac- 
 ters. 
 
 "IThe Oroitij^e C:irl. Drama, in a rrologue 
 aHd 3 Acts. By Henry Leslie. 18 Male, 4 Fe- 
 wake Characters. 
 
 THe Blrth-ploce of Podg^ers. Farce. 
 1 Act. By John BoUingsliead. 7 Male, 3 Fe- 
 male Characters. 
 
 The Chevalier de St. Ceorge. Drama. 
 3 Acta. ByT. W. BobejtBoii. 9 Male, S Fe- 
 male Characters. 
 
 Cawjfht by the Cuir. Farce. 1 Act. By 
 
 Fretiarick Hay. 4 Male, 1 Female Characters'. 
 
 , The Bonnie Fish "Wife. Farce. 1 Act. 
 
 By Charles Selby. 3 Wale, 1 Female Characters. 
 
 I»oinjf for the Rest. Domestic Drama. 2 
 Acts. ByM. RaphinoLacy. 6 Male, 3 Female 
 Ohararters. 
 
 A Lame lEi^eutie. Farce. 1 Act. By Fred- 
 erick Hay. 4 Male, 2 Female Characters. 
 
 Fottored. D'ania. 8 Acts. By Watts Phil- 
 lips. 11 Male, 4 Female Characters. 
 
 The Ciarrick Fever. Fai>«e. 1 Act. By 
 J. R. PUnche. 7 Male, 4 Female Character*. 
 
 Adrieune. Drama 3 Acts. By Hkrnry Leslls. 
 7 Male, 3 Female Oliarartera. 
 
 Chaps of the Channel. 
 1 Act. By Frederick Hay. 
 Characters. 
 . The Roll of the T>rum. 
 By Tbomas lSiir«i-toa Wllks. 
 Character*. 
 
 . Special Performnoces. Parce. 1 Act. 
 By Wilwot Harrison. 7 Mj1«,» y«iM>l« Wiar- 
 acWr«. 
 
 A Sheep in "^VoWs Clothing. BomeatlG 
 "^ 1 Act. By Tmn Tajlar. 7 Male, 5 
 
 Nafltiaal Farce. 
 3 Male, 3 Psmala 
 
 in. A Charming Pair. Farc«. 1 Xa*. Br 
 Thomas J. Williams. 4 Male, 3 FemaU Char- 
 acters. 
 
 SI. Vandyke Bro'wn. Farce. 1 AH. By A. 
 C. Troughton. 3 Male, S Female Ci' «» ters. 
 
 82. Peep o* Day ; or, SaT^mTift*n Dheelish. 
 
 ^New Drnrv Lane Version.) Irish Drama. 4 
 Acta. B/ Kilmund Falconer. 12 Male, 4 Fe- 
 male Characters. 
 
 83. Thrice Married. Personation Piece. 1 
 
 Act. liy Howard Paul. 6 Male, 1 Female, 
 
 Chi 
 
 cters. 
 
 84. I«ot Kuilty. Drama. 4 Acts. By WaMs 
 
 Philli|i8. Ill Male. 6 Female Chara«tiH-«. 
 
 85. Locked in with a Lady, bikctek fr«B 
 
 Life. liy H. K. Addisou. 1 Male, 1 !»•»-•« 
 ••.laractem. 
 
 86. The Lady of Lvons ; or. Love and PrMe. 
 
 .The Pechter Version.) I'lay 5 AH«i. By 
 Lord L\tton. 10 Male, 3 Fein*;* Characters. 
 
 67. Locked Ont. Comic Scfna. 1 Act. »y 
 Howard Paul. 1 Male, 1 Fjj»i.U Characters. 
 
 S8. Founded on Fact*. Farce. I Act. By 
 J.P Wooler. 4 Mal«, 2 Female Characters. 
 
 89. Aunt Charlotte's Itlai.d. Farce. 1 Aat. 
 Bv .1. M. MortoH. 3 M^la, 3 Female Charac- 
 ters. 
 
 00. Only a Halfpenny. Faro. 1 XM.. Vy 
 John Oxenfor.t. 2 .Male, 3 Female Char«ot<>rs. 
 
 91. Walpole; or, Everv Man lias hJ« Price. 
 
 C.miedvin Rl.vme. 3 Acts. By Lord Lytton 
 7 Male. 2 F.Mna u Characters. 
 
 92. My "Wife's «»ut. Farce. 1 Aot. Bv G. 
 
 Herbert Uodvvell. 2 Male, 3 Famale a»iara»tei-8. 
 
 93. The Area Belle. Farce. 1 .tet. By William 
 
 Brongh ami Anilrevv Halliiiay. 3 Male, 2 Fe- 
 male Cliaractera. 
 
 94. Oiir Clerks ; or. >fo. 3 Fir Trae Conrt TwJ- 
 
 ple. Farce. 1 Act. 7 Mala, 5 Female Otiai-- 
 acters. 
 9.i. The Pretty Ilorss Breaker. Fare-. 
 
 1 Act. By Williaiu Brouich and Andrew Halli- 
 day. 3 Male. 10 Femala Charactari. 
 
 96. nearest Maaniaaa. Come4<>tta. I A^t. 
 By Walter Gordou. 4 Male, 3 Patuale Charac- 
 ters. 
 
 91, Orange JJlosaomn. Comedietta, t Act^ 
 By J. P.~Woaler. 3 Male, 3 Female Characters.. 
 
 98, TVho Is Wbot or. All In a Poff. Perce. 
 
 lAct. By Thomas J. Willlama, 3 Uale, 1 r»- 
 male Chai-actei-s. 
 
 99. The Fifth "Wheel, Comedy, t Acts. It 
 
 Male. 2 Female Characters. 
 100. alack Lon^ ; or. The Shot In the Eye. Drama. 
 
 2 Acts. B> J. B. JohustoDe, 6 Male, I Female 
 Characters. 
 
 101. Fernande. Drama. 8 Acta. By Tlatwfae 
 
 SiLrdou. 1 1 Male, 10 Female Cbaraotera. 
 102 Foiled, Drama. 4 Acts. By 0. "W. Corobli^— 
 
 SU.it. 
 
 J Female Characters 
 
 103. Faust and Marerncrltto. Drama, s 
 
 Aci3. Ey T. "W. Kotwrtaon. 9 Male, 7 Female 
 Characters. 
 
 105. IVhlrh of tho Two. Comedietta. 1 Aot 
 
 By Jobs M Morton. 2 alale, 10 Fomale Cbaraoterg 
 108. TTp for tl'e Cattlf SLow. Farce. lAat 
 By liarr; lemoD. .lialo, 2 Female Charaotera 
 
 lOT. Cnplfoard fjO'tc. Farce. 1 Act. By Fted> 
 
 eriok Qay. 2 Maie. 1 Female Characters 
 108. Mp. t'erogslns. Farce. 1 Act. ByWUUam 
 
 Uaacock. niu&le, -i Toniala Characters 
 108. I<Ork>d In. Comedietta. 1 Aot. % J. P. 
 
 Wooler. ^MaJe, 3 Fciaala Cbaraotera 
 
 110. Poppleton'n Predlcarneiita. Vtn^ 1 
 
 Act. ByCb^LrlaaM.Kae. 3 liala, • faaale <ii» 
 aotcrs 
 lit. Til* tiar. . 0.m.dy._ll Aati L^ ■y -m HV^. 
 
 Pefiaale Characte 
 
 Allan* aail a4wwl by 0h 
 ■(•■ Itaule ttaieiak 
 
LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 
 
 017 401 622 
 
 De Witt's Acting Plays, uontmuea. 
 
 No 
 
 112. Not a Bit Jeal«ii8. A Farce.in 1 Act. By 
 
 T. W. Uoberison, '6 Male, 3 Female characters 
 US. Cyril's Success. Comedy, in 6 Acts. By H. 
 
 J. Byron. 9 Male, 5 Female characters. 
 
 114. Anything for a Change. Petitt Comedy, 
 
 in 1 Act. By Shirley Brooks. 3 Male,3 Fe- 
 male characters. 
 
 115. Jfcw Men and Old Acres. Comedy, in 3 
 
 Aets. By Tom Taylor. S Male, 5 Female char- 
 acters. 
 lie. I'm not Mesilt at all. An Original Irish 
 Stew. By C. A. Maltby. ^ Male, 2 Female 
 clmracters 
 
 in. ?f ot Su«h a Fool as he Looks. Farcical 
 Drama, in a Acts. By H. J. Byron. 5 Male, 4 
 Female cliaracters. 
 
 Wanted, a Young Lady. Farce, in 1 Act. 
 By W.E. Suter. 3 Male characters. 
 , A Life Chase. Drama, in 6 Acts. By John 
 Oxenlbrd. 14 Alalc, 5 Female characters 
 
 , A Tempest In a '1 ea Pot. Petite Comedy, 
 in 1 Act. By Thomas Picton. 2 Male, 1 Fe- 
 male clianiO rs 
 
 A Comical Counters. Farce, in 1 Act. By 
 William Brough. 3 Male, 1 Female characters 
 
 , Isabella Orsinl. Romantic Drama,in 4 Acts- 
 By S. H. Moscnthal. 11 Male, 4 Female charac- 
 ters 
 The Two Poets. Farce. By John Court- 
 nay. 4 Male, 4 Female characters 
 
 , The Tolunteer Review. A Farce. By 
 Thomas J. Williams, Esq. 6 Male, b Female 
 characters 
 
 125. I>eeri'oot. Farce, in 1 Act. By F. C. Bur- 
 uand, Esq. r. Male. 1 Female charucteis 
 
 126. Twice Killed. Farce. By John OxenlorJ.— 
 6 Male, 3 Female characters 
 
 . Peggy Green. Farce. By Charles Selby. — 
 
 3 Male, 10 Female characters 
 . The Female Detective. Original Dramai 
 
 in 3 Acis. By C. H. Hazlewood, 11 Male,4 
 
 Female chivraters 
 
 . In lorn Holiday. Farce,in 1 Act. ByF. C. 
 Burnand, Esq. 2 Male, 3 Female characters 
 
 . My Wife's Diary, Farce, in 1 Act. By T. 
 
 W. Robertson, 3 Male, 1 Female characters 
 . Go to Putney. Original Farce, in 1 Act. By 
 
 Harry Lemon. 3 Male, 4 Female characters 
 
 . A Race for a Dinner. Farce By J. T. 
 
 G. Kodwell. 10 Male characters 
 . Timothy to the Rescue. Original Farce, 
 
 in 1 Act. By Henry J. Byron, Esq, 4 Male, 
 
 2 Female characters 
 
 ,. Tompkins the Troubadour. Farce, in 1 
 Act. By Messrs. Lockruy and Marc Michel. — 
 
 3 Male, 2 Female characters 
 1. Everybody's Friend. Original Comedy,in 
 
 3 Acts. By J. Stirling Coyne. Esq. 6 Male, 6 
 Fenmle characters 
 - The Woman in Red. Drama, in 3 Actsnnd 
 a Prologue. By J. Stirling Coyne, Esq. 6 Male 
 t* ^male characters 
 
 137. L' Article 4?; or. Breaking the Ban. Drama, 
 in 3 Acts. By Adolphe Belot. 11 Male, 5 Fe- 
 male characters 
 
 1 3S. Poll and Partner Joe ; or the Pride of Put- 
 ney, and the Vressing Pirate, New* and '^'i- 
 nal Nautic.ll Burlesque. By F. C. Burnand. — 
 7 Male, •J Female characters 
 
 139. Joy is I'angerons. Comedy, in 2 Acts. By 
 
 James Mortimer. 3 Male, 3 Fem^i.. characters 
 
 140. Never Reckon yo-ir Chickens. Farce, in 
 
 1 Act. By Wybert Reeve. 3 Male, 4 t emaio 
 characters 
 
 141. The Oells ; or. The Polish Jew. Ro- 
 
 mantic Moral UraniB, in 3 Acts. By Henry L. 
 Williams, J r. 9 Male, 3 Female cimractors. 
 
 142. Dollars and Cents. Original Americatl 
 Comedy, in 3 Acts. By L, J. Uollenlus. Esq. 
 10 Male, 4 Female Characters. 
 
 143. TjodgGvs and Dodders. Farce, in 1 Act. 
 
 By Frederick Hay. 4 Male, 2 Female char- 
 ai-ters. 
 
 144. The Liancasliire L,ass ; or. Tempt- 
 
 ed, Tried and True. DoiAestic Melo 
 riiama, in 4 Acts and a I'rologlle. By i*^ - 
 J. Byron. 12 Male, 3 Female characters. 
 146. First Cove. Comedy, in 1 Act. By L. J- 
 Holienius, Ksq. 4 Male, 1 Female cliaracters. 
 
 146. There's no Smoke 'Without Fire. 
 
 Comedietta, in 1 Act. By Tlionias Piclou. 
 
 1 Male, 2 Female Chaiaoldrs. 
 
 147. The Overland Route. Comedy, in 3 
 
 Acts. By Tom Taylor. 11 Male, 6 Female 
 characters. 
 
 148. Cut oir '«Vith a Shilling. Comedietta, 
 
 in 1 Act. By S. Thoyie Smith. 2 Male, 1 Fe- 
 male characters. 
 
 149. Clouds. An Original American Comedy, In 
 
 4 Ada. By Fred Maisdeu. 8 Male, 6 Female 
 characters. 
 
 150. A Tell-Tale Heart. Comedietta, In 1 
 
 Act. By Thomas Picton. 1 Male, 2 Female 
 characters. 
 
 151. A. Hard Case. Farce, in 1 Act. By Thos. 
 
 Picton. 2 Male characters. 
 
 152. Cupid's Eye-Glass. Comedy, In 1 Act. 
 
 By Thomas Picton. 1 Male, 1 Female char- 
 actei-8. 
 
 153. 'Tis Better to Live Than to Ule, 
 
 Petite Cinnedy, In 1 Act. By Thomas Picton. 
 
 2 Male, 1 Female characters. 
 
 164. Maria and niagdalena. Play, In 4 Acts. 
 By L. J . HoUeuius, Esq, 10 Male, 6 Female 
 characters. 
 
 155. Our Heroes. Military Play, in ^ Acts. By 
 
 John B. Keuauld. 25 Male, 5 Female char- 
 acteis. 
 
 156. Peace at Any Price. Farce, In 1 Act. 
 
 By T. W. Kobertaou. 1 Male, 1 Female char- 
 acters. 
 137. Quite at Home. Comedietta, In 1 Act. 
 
 158. School. Comedy, in 4 Acts. By T. W. Bob- 
 
 ertsuii. 6 Male, .3 Female Characters. 
 
 159. In the I^Vong House; or, I\o. Six 
 
 Dulte Street. Farce. By Martin Becher. 
 
 4 Male, 2 Female characters. 
 
 160. Blow for Blow. Drama, in a Prologue 
 
 nil '. 3 Acts. By Henry J. Byron, .i Male, 4 
 
 Female characters.