AMELIA. Because that is the image which appears in my dreams when I have not been good—And then she raises her hand as if to warn me, and on one of her fingers there is a ring with a green stone that seems to radiate light. It is she!—Tell me, neighbour, is there a picture of her in the place?
NEIGHBOUR. There used to be one, but I don't know whether it's still here.
AMELIA. So this one is my stepmother? Well, God was good when he let me keep my mother's image free from stain—and hereafter I shall find it quite natural that this other woman is cruel to me.
NEIGHBOUR. Cruel stepmothers exist to make children kind. And you were not kind, Amelia, but you have become so, and for that reason I shall now give you a Christmas present in advance.
He takes the portrait of the OLD LADY out of its frame, when in its place appears a picture in water-colours corresponding to the description given above.
AMELIA. [Kneeling in front of the picture] My mother—mother of my dreams! [Rising] But how can I keep the picture when it is to be sold at auction?
NEIGHBOUR. You can, because the auction has already taken place.
AMELIA. Where and when was it held?
NEIGHBOUR. It was held elsewhere—in a place not known to you—and to-day the things are merely to be taken away.
AMELIA. What a lot of queer things are happening! And how full of secrets the house is!—But tell me, where is my stepmother? I have not seen her in a long time.