LISA. I wish mother would come; I am so tired and hungry! She said
Julia was in here, but I cannot see her. How many children are moving
about--all in white dresses, and so pretty! They have wings too. I
wonder if all ladies have wings. I wish I could go in; and perhaps
they would give me a piece of bread; but I am afraid. For all they
look so pleasant, they might drive me away. One is coming down the
path; I am sure I might speak to her, she looks so kind.
_Enter EDITH._
EDITH. It is pretty to play queen and be a fairy; but I know not how
it is, I cannot dance and frolic as usual to-day. That gypsy girl
looked so wildly upon me! She has been over sea and land, and knows
many strange things, and I have seen nothing. How sorrowful she was! I
wished to hold out my hand to her, but feared she would throw it
aside; there was something so scornful about her. Dear little Amy! I
will lie down and rest in your garden. Here are the lilies of the
valley you planted; the moonlight shines down upon them as they lie
folded in their green leaves, just as you lay in my arms when you were
so ill; and they look out and smile as you smiled at me. Why did you
go away from me? Amy, Amy! Who is that sobbing? It sounded like Amy
among her flowers; but O, it cannot be. No, it is outside the gate. I
will go and see who is there. What is the matter, little girl? Why
do you cry so?
LISA. I am so hungry, and so lonesome here. I wanted to speak to you,
and was afraid.
EDITH. Poor child! come in. I will run and bring you something to
eat. Sit down here by my little sister's garden until I come
back. (_Goes._)
LISA. How beautiful she is! I wonder if her little sister died. I
would not if I had been her sister. I wish she would let me kiss her
once.
EDITH, (_returning._) Here is some cake for you. The children
called out to me, but I snatched it from the table and flew off. Eat
it all, and then you shall tell me who you are, and where you live.
LISA. I do not live any where; I go about all the time with mother and
the gypsies.
EDITH. You are a little gypsy girl then. Was that your sister who
came into the garden?
LISA. Was she there? She said she was going, but I peeped in and could
not see her.
EDITH. And you wander about all over the world, seeing wonderful
things?
LISA. O, yes, we walk about from one place to another, till I am so
tired I can hardly stand. When I was small, mother used to carry me;
but now I am too big. But at night she wraps her cloak round me, and
holds me close in her arms, and sings me to sleep. I like the nights
best. In the day she often goes off and leaves me waiting for her,
somewhere, all alone.
EDITH. In the nights you sleep in your tents, and hear them flapping
in the wind, and look out at the stars?
LISA. Most always we sleep in a barn. When we can't find one we sleep
out doors, and have a fire when it is very cold. I am so sleepy I
never look up at the stars, only sometimes. Last night we slept under
a tree full of blossoms, and when I woke up, they were blowing over us
like a snow storm. I wanted mother to see how pretty they were, but I
knew she was tired, so I kissed her softly, and went to sleep again.
EDITH. What does she sing to you?
LISA _sings_.
We have wandered far through forest wild;
We have climbed where craggy rocks are piled;
Sleep in peace, my gypsy child;
Mother watcheth o'er thee.
Night winds breathe a lulling sound;
Gentle moonlight streams around;
Shadows settle o'er the ground;
Sweet visions fly before thee.
Sleep, my child; to-morrow, waking,
To thee shall come no sad heart-aching;
One is near--the ne'er-forsaking!
Mother watcheth o'er thee.
LISA. It makes the tears come into your eyes; does your mother sing it
to you?
EDITH. O, no, my mother never sings to me. I sleep all alone, in a
great, silent room, and they draw the heavy curtains all around, so
that not even a star can peep in. I wish I could sleep under the sky
as you do. Would it not be pleasant if we could change places a little
while! I will be your mother's child, and you shall have all my fine
things, and plenty to eat, and can play about all day.
LISA. O, yes, but I don't like to leave mother.
EDITH. It will be only for a day or two, and I know she will be
willing. I will roam about with her, and see the world, and they will
all be kind to you here; so let us change clothes. You shall have my
fairy garments, and I will put on your brown dress.
LISA. And shall I wear these beautiful things all the time?
EDITH. To-morrow they will play fairy again; after that, my cousins
will go away, and you will have to begin to study. Do you like to
study?
LISA. What is study?
EDITH. Do you not even know your alphabet? How funny it will be to see
Miss Magin sitting up like a forsaken owl, calling out A, and A you
will softly say; then B, and C, and so on. If you had learned to read,
you would have to pore over books all the time. Nothing but books! I
could learn more, rambling about three days, than I could in books in
half a century. When lessons are over, mother will come in and ask if
you have been good, and as you will not have had any novels or poetry
hidden away, Miss Magin will answer, “Yes, madam, she has been so.”
Then mother will give you a tart and an orange, and say you may walk
in the garden and gather pinks. You can go round the garden and look
at the fountains, or into the grove, but not outside the wall, or you
will have Miss Magin tagging after you, to see that nothing happens to
you. After dinner, you will have to practise and sew, and in the
evening play backgammon with mother, or talk to the visitors who come
in.
LISA. But I cannot do all these things; I don't know how.
EDITH. Well, you will not have to. They will soon find out you are a
gypsy girl, and cannot be tamed down into a young lady. But you must
not let them find it out to-night, or they will immediately send you
after me. Your voice is so much like mine they will not notice that,
and you must stay in the shadow of the evergreens, and not venture
into the moonlight. When they talk to you, you must not say much, but
sing gypsy songs, always changing the word gypsy for fairy; and in a
little while you can steal quietly off to bed.
LISA. But how shall I know where to go?
EDITH. I sleep now with my cousin Fanny. She has a blue dress and
silver wings; you must whisper to her and ask her to go with you; and
then you can tell her the secret. She will not tell any one. Perhaps
you had better leave the wreath here, and the wings, for many of the
fairies have none, and they will not think it is I, without them. You
cannot get on my shoes--can you?
LISA. I walk so much barefooted. What pretty gold shoes they are! I
wish I could wear them.
EDITH. No, you will have to leave them here. Lay them on this flower
bed with the wings. They look as if they might belong to little
Amy--perhaps she will come for them to-night.
LISA. You seem so strange in my dress!
EDITH. I like to have it on. But it will hurt me to go barefooted.
Never mind--I wish to try how you live, in every way. How pleasant it
will be to sleep in the free air to-night! But you will like my bed
with the flowered curtains, and the pictures, and all the things.
LISA. O, yes; but you will give my love to mother.
EDITH. Not to-night. I am going to be her little girl to-night. But
to-morrow I will. I will come back in a few days and give you a great
many pretty presents before you go away. Good by. I hope you will have
a pleasant time.
LISA. May I kiss you once?
EDITH. Why, yes, indeed. You are a dear child; you look like a real
fairy in your new dress. Good night.
_LISA goes along the Garden Path. EDITH waits outside, and pulls her
hat over her face as ELINOR approaches._
ELINOR. Come along. Lisa. Have you seen any thing of Julia? Here, take
this bundle.
EDITH. How heavy it is!
ELINOR. Heavy, do you call it? It's I that have the burden to
bear. I've had enough to do this day; we must be home pretty quick, I
can tell you. But stop, child, you have had nothing to eat; here's
some meat for you.
EDITH, I do not want it. A lady came and gave me some cake.
ELINOR. A lady! What kind of a lady, I wonder?
EDITH. She was all dressed in purple and gold, and we sat and ate it
together. It was very nice cake.
ELINOR. A lady ate with a beggar! This is the first time I ever heard
of such a thing. All in gold too.--(_Aside._) I must teach her
the business--what a chance she had.
EDITH, (_aside._) What a frightful woman! Can it be Lisa's
mother? I must ask some questions and find out. (_To Elinor._)
Where do you think Julia is?
ELINOR. I know not, and care not. She's a real vagrant, that girl
is. No manner of use. She may go her own ways; I wash my hands of her.
EDITH. Will you sing me to sleep to-night? I am very tired.
ELINOR. Sing you to sleep? Yes, darling! What makes you lag behind
so? Take hold of my hand; I'll help you along. How your hand
trembles. Sing a song and cheer up. We must walk fast.
EDITH _sings the song LISA sang._
We have wandered far through forests wild, &c.
ELINOR. She has a sweet voice; we might make something of that. But
it's of no use--she can't be saved. I may as well begin now. Lisa, do
you know what is in these bundles?
EDITH. Something that weighs a good deal.
ELINOR. It's silver, child; real silver.
EDITH. But where did you get it?
ELINOR. Where? where do you think? I took it out of a house.
EDITH. Took it! Do you mean that you stole it?
ELINOR. Stole it? Out with it! Yes, I stole it. How should you like to
steal?
EDITH. But it is not right.
ELINOR. Who says it is not right?
EDITH. Why, every body says so.
ELINOR. The rich say so. They ride in their carriages, and live in
their grand houses, and when we are starving, and freezing with cold,
if we take a mouthful to eat, or a rag to put on, they call it
stealing, and hunt us up to put us in jail, and treat us worse than
brutes. I tell you I hate them. I should like to see them homeless as
we are, with the cold winds blowing through them. Then would I laugh
at them, as they laugh at us. Then would they know what it is to
suffer, with never a hand to help them.
EDITH. But some of them are kind.
ELINOR. Kind do you call if? If you beg and beg, and tell a piteous
story, they will give you an old gown and a cold potato, just as they
would throw a bone to a dog; and you must stand in their entries all
the time. Your clothes are not good enough for their parlors, and they
watch every motion, to see that you do not steal. But I can tell them
I will steal. If I had not taken their clothes and their food, do you
think you would be alive now? You would have been frozen in the winter
snows, and not a hand to help you. I asked for work and work, and
never a bit could I get; so I took what I wanted, and you must learn
to do so too, for I may not always be here to take care of you.
EDITH. But cannot I learn to work?
ELINOR. You never can get any work to do, unless you can show a good
character, as they call it. I wonder what kind of characters they
would have if they were treated as we are. Run! Hide! Down in the
ditch with you! They are after us!
_Enter a CONSTABLE and Man._
CONSTABLE. Here they are! Hallo, there! Come out of that! You need
not duck under like two great bull-frogs. Up with you--here's a
hand. We're polite folks, marm. Fish out the bundles, Jim. Them's the
articles--silver spoons and all. Off to jail with you. You'll have to
trip it fast enough, I'll warrant you. Here, Jim, you take the old
bird; I'll see to the young un.
ELINOR. O, my child; you shall not take her away!
CONSTABLE. Shall not, ma'am! If you valooed your child, you'd be right
glad to have her go. She's got bad notions enough. We'll edicate her
now.
ELINOR. Lisa! Lisa!
_ELINOR is led off._
EDITH. Where are you going to take me?
CONSTABLE. To the House of Correction; you'll get a good lesson there.
EDITH. You shall not; I am Miss ---- No, I will not tell him. I want
to see what they would have done with Lisa. I can come away whenever I
tell my name.
_Exeunt CONSTABLE and EDITH._