[To Hilda.] What! Do you want to get a divorce?

Hil. No, sir! I came to see if you could find out who my parents are, and, also, whether I am married or not.

Dol. Lord, bless us! The girl must be crazy!

Hil. [At desk.] Oh, sir! just listen to my story, and I know that you will be able to help me in this, my sore trouble.

Dol. [Crosses to R., pulls forward two chairs, and motions Hilda to be seated.] Well, well! go on! [Aside.] There’s the morning’s court business, and not a thing done. [Hilda sits L. C. Dollerclutch R. C.]

Hil. I was brought up by a family named Wallace, who live in Norfolk, Virginia, and I supposed that I was their daughter, until a discovery I made two years ago convinced me that I was not.

Dol. [Getting interested.] And what discovery did you make?

Hil. [Unfolding a package.] I found this dress hidden away in one of the bureau drawers. [Hands it to him.]

Dol. Lord, bless me! Why, it’s a baby dress.

Hil. Yes, sir! and when I made inquiries about it I learned that it was one I wore when a child.

Dol. Well, there was nothing strange about that?

Hil. No, sir! But on examination, I found these initials, A. M., which you see worked in it!

Dol. Ah! yes! Precisely!

Hil. And when I called their attention to it they seemed confused and did not know what to reply. I kept the dress, determined to find out more, if I could!

Dol. And you did?

Hil. No, sir! but I learned since that the man I married could unveil the mystery which shrouds my birth.

Dol. And won’t he enlighten you?

Hil. No, sir! all my attempts have proved futile.

Dol. But did you not say that this man was your husband?

Hil. Yes, sir! But he must have some object in keeping my identity secret.

Dol. But how did you become acquainted with this man, and how did you come to marry him?

Hil. He was a regular visitor at our home, and I noticed on many occasions that he paid Mrs. Wallace money. However, I fell desperately in love with him, and when he proposed that we get married, I, of course, was only too happy to consent.

Dol. And his name?

Hil. Ralph Murdell!

Dol. Ralph Murdell! Humph! I don’t like the name—got a bad sound to it.

Hil. He took me to a little village in the suburbs about four miles from Norfolk, where we were married in a little chapel by an old country preacher.

Dol. And you were happy, I suppose?

Hil. Yes, until about two weeks later, when he was about to leave me. He said he had to go North to attend to some business. I would not listen to it, unless he took me with him.

Dol. That’s right, my girl! And he took you, of course?

Hil. Yes; but it was on condition that I should keep the marriage a secret, and not recognize him in the presence of others.

Dol. And what the deuce was that for?

Hil. He said his family were very proud, and he wanted to gain their consent before he made our marriage public.

Dol. Oh, the rascal! And you listened to him?

Hil. Yes, sir! To my sorrow, I did. He recommended me to a young lady who wanted a lady’s maid. I accepted the position on his assurance that he would soon claim me before the world as his wife.

Dol. And who is this lady with whom you now are?

Hil. Adrienne Lowville!

Dol. What! The daughter of Wm. Lowville, who owns Beachwood, eighteen miles from here, on the Essex road?

Hil. Oh, yes, sir! Do you know him?

Dol. Well, I’d like to know who don’t! Got a railroad in each pocket. But, about your husband—is he acquainted there?

Hil. Alas! yes! He is a constant visitor, and I more than suspect that his attentions to my mistress imply more than he wishes me to believe.

Dol. [Throws baby dress on table, R. 3 E.] Oh! That’s his game, is it? A case of throwing you over for her, eh?

Hil. I fear so, sir; for she is madly in love with him, and thinks him a saint. When I called him to account for his actions, he laughed at me. He then informed me that he would do as he pleased, and that I was not his wife at all; that ours was a mock marriage.

Dol. [Jumps up.] The deuce he did! Oh, the villain, to take advantage of a poor innocent girl.

Hil. [Rises.] Oh, sir! but it was legal—it—

Dol. [Dollerclutch L. C., Hilda R. C.] Have you got your marriage certificate?

Hil. No, sir! I never thought of that, sir.

Dol. Then, what proof have you?

Hil. Alas, none! But, oh sir! can’t you investigate it? There surely must be a record kept of all marriages. Can’t you get a copy of the church register, where it must have been entered?

Dol. That’s so! I never thought of that! But, my dear girl, that will be a difficult matter, now that the country is in a furore and on the verge of a civil war; and it will cost money to do it, my dear girl; money.

Hil. [Crosses to desk L. 3 E.] Oh, sir! I thought of that! Here are twelve dollars that I saved out of my scanty earnings. Won’t it be enough, sir?

Dol. [Up C.] Enough? Why, it wouldn’t pay for dipping a pen into the ink, to say nothing about the trouble of licking a postage stamp.

Hil. [Sobs.] What shall I do—what shall I do?

Dol. [Taking out handkerchief.] Take up that money and put it in your pocket immediately! I’ll not take a cent of it. I never was so insulted in my life. [Crosses to R.]

Hil. [C.] Oh, won’t you help me out of my trouble?

Dol. Help you? Of course I will! Who said I wouldn’t? Do you think I’ll stand by and see an innocent girl wronged in this manner? No! I’ll see this thing through, if it costs me a fortune! Oh, the villain! [Dollerclutch at desk, Hilda at table R. 2 E.]

Enter Coriolanus, D. R. 4 E., with lunch.

Cor. Your lunch, sir! [Puts it on desk.]

Dol. D—n the lunch! Get out!

Cor. I quicken! [Exit D. C. Hilda sobs. She picks up baby dress from table.]

Dol. [Down C.] What are you crying about?

Hil. I am so grateful to you, sir, for taking a poor girl’s trouble to heart.

Dol. Now, don’t you be deluding yourself with any such idea. This is business, I tell you; business. What do you know about business, I’d like to know?

Hil. I beg your pardon, sir!

Dol. Why do you come and arouse my sympathetic heart, and upset all my court business?

Hil. Can I do aught, sir?

Dol. No—yes—that is—shut up! Give me that dress! Now, you go back and don’t let that husband of yours suspect anything. [Puts on his hat, etc. Dollerclutch at desk, Hilda C.]

Hil. Are you going out, sir?

Dol. Hold your tongue! This is the way I prepare myself for court business; and there’s my nice lunch, too! [Stuffs baby dress in his bosom, leaving a part sticking