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(The scene is a small, poorly furnished room, in the fourth story of the dwelling occupied by Paulino. A middle door opens upon the stairs, and a side door into an adjoining chamber. A window, out side of which a bell is placed, looks upon the street. Head dresses, bandboxes, 4.c. are scattered about the room.)

(Pauline, alone, at work on a lace veil.)

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AULINE. Poor Pauline ! Mrs, Silver. What is it?
poor orphan ! My parents Pauline. I may be somewhat tedious, but you
have left me nothing with must permit me to begin at the beginning. After
which to oppose the power of the death of my parents I found a second mother
a thousand allurements, but in Madame Berghof, formerly a rich lady whose
the example of their virtue. millinery I was employed to make. She has often

Employment and a cheerful sat here, in my little garret, for hours together, disposition have afforded me contentment even in } encouraging me to labor, strengthening me in this little garret; but, since my heart has cheated good purposes, and assisting me to add to my me of my cheerfulness-(A knock is heard at the store of knowledge. (With emotion.) I shall door.) Who knocks ? Come in!

never forget how much I am indebted to her. (Enter Mrs. Silver, who is known to Pauline Mrs. Silver. And what has become of her ? under the name of Christiana, neatly dressed as Pauline. Misfortune pursued her honest husa housekeeper.)

band. Last year he became a bankrupt-his Mrs. Silver. Do I not trouble you?

wife died in penury-his poor children have no Pauline. Never, never! how often must I { other refuge than-oh! in her have I lost a repeat it ?

second mother! But-dear neighbor-although Mrs. Silver. Always busy.

I have known you only during the two months Pauline. Look, dear neighbor! the veil is you have occupied the room near me, I already almost finished.

bear much affection toward you, and feel no hesiMrs. Silver. Then you have certainly been tation in opening my heart to you. Your dispoat work again late at night.

sition, your uprightness, your delicacy of feelingPauline. Until toward morning, I confess-yes, it is in your power to repair my loss. but I must pay my rent to-day and I have need Mrs. Silver. Good child! at your age there of money.

is so much frankness, so great a readiness to trust Mrs. Silver. (Observing her, attentively, in others. whilst she speaks.) I do not think the landlord Pauline. No, no, it is not so with me; I

have, like Socrates, a warning demon. But to Pauline. (Laughing.) O certainly not—he return to my project--have you not told me that is my very submissive servant-I have turned } your dead husband left you but little ? his head upside down. But let us talk of some- Mrs. Silver. Certainly, I find it necessary to thing else ;-I have a little project in my head. economize closely.

will dun you.

Pauline. (Earnestly.) Suppose we were to Mrs. Silver. (Very much moved.) Go on my unite our little households ? We might both child! You do n't know how much your story save by making common our receipts and expen- { interests me. ditures.

Pauline. For eighteen days I was in danger; Mrs. Silver. (With an air of surprise.) Cer- during this time he inquired, with anxiety, daily tainly.

and hourly after my condition. He begged every Pauline. (With increasing earnestness.) This one for comfort. At last I recovered my health, little apartment and the adjoining chamber, there, { but-my peace was lost! He became aware of will afford sufficient room for us both; so that it-how indeed could it be concealed ?-He told half the expense of rent will be at once saved. I me he loved me, I said the same to him-now could assist you to bear your afflictions, and you mother, you know all. could protect me from the evilly.disposed—I could Mrs. Silver. And what is the name of this lighten the burden of your old age, and you could young man ? direct my youth ;-in this manner would our Pauline. William Silver; he is from Dres. lives be reciprocally sweetened.

den, and is the only son of a rich widow. Mrs. Silver. Yes, yes, good Pauline, I accede Mrs. Silver. Has he made you a proposal of to your proposition.

marriage. Pauline. Excellent! and I will call you Pauline. Certainly, very often—but I did not mother.

dare to accept. His mother, who is said to be a Mrs. Silver. (Hastily and significantly.) very fine lady, has other prospects for him. This Mother! yes, do so.

son is her only hope, and she loves him above Pauline. But you must treat me as familiarly every thing. as if I were your daughter.

Mrs. Silver. And he ? Mrs. Silver. That will I.

Pauline. Oh he almost worships her! He calls Pauline. We shall have, henceforth, but one her his best friend; he never speaks of her with purse.

out tears in his eyes. (Mrs. Silver strives to Mrs. Silver. I will attend to the household conceal her emotion.) He loves her more dearly affairs and what we save

than any one on earth,-me excepted, of coursePauline. With that will we assist the unfor- } and could I do any thing which would afflict such tunate! Oh! it is so sweet.

a mother? Never! I have, therefore, deterMrs. Silver. But have you no fears that I mined to make known to her every thing, myself; may often be wearisome to you?

for if no one comes to my assistance I shall find Pauline. Never, never.

it impossible to tear myself from William. I Mrs. Silver. You receive visits from certain am only a simple maiden ; it gives me great people-(Pauline casts down her eyes) to whom pleasure to hear a handsome, noble hearted young my presence will not be agreeable. Our old man, say: I love you! Ah! good neighbor, do landlord, for instance; he comes every day! you not see how much I need your assistance ? Pauline. (Smiling.) Yes, he does.

Mrs. Silver. You would, yourself, discover Mrs. Silver. (Observing her closely.) And all to the mother? not he alone; a certain young man, also

Pauline. Certainly. My letter is already Pauline. (With half ludicrous displeasure.) { written. (She draws it forth from her bosom.) Whom I love frightfully, I cannot deny.

Here it is. Ten times I have commenced, and Mrs. Silver. I saw him at a distance, only, { ten times have I effaced what I had written; it is but he appears to me

accomplished no better, however, after all. Be. Pauline. Ah yes, distracting! you saw his fore I send the letter, will you do me the favor to eyes! and the soul in his eyes! I owe him read it; in the mean time I will take home the much—perhaps my life. Hear, mother, how veil. (She puts the veil in a bandbox.) When I good he is. As I was carrying some of my work { return, you will give me your opinion—will you home, last winter I fell on the ice and hurt my not ?--your frank opinion ? head so badly that I was stunned. A crowd of Mrs. Silver. Certainly, my child. the rabble gathered about me where I was lying, Pauline. Good-bye; (She embraces Mrs. Silunable to get up; but no one offered assistance, { ver.) you will love me, I hope. until he forced his way through, took me in his Mrs. Silver. I love you, already. arms, and carried me, gently, home. On reach- Pauline. (Going.) Adieu, mother. ing my room I fainted, and when I recovered my Mrs. Silver. Good-bye, my daughter. senses I found a physician at my hed-side. He

Exit Pauline. had brought him and was as earnestly employed Mrs. Silver. An excellent, pure creature! about me as a loving brother.

Yes, I feel that I shall soon be her mother

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