"Thou terrifiest me," says the Quaker, "with such passionate expressions, for verily I cannot comprehend thee!"
"Oh!" says she, "she is my mother! she is my mother! and she does not own me!"
"Thy mother!" says the Quaker, and began to be greatly moved indeed. "I am astonished at thee: what dost thou mean?"
"I mean nothing but what I say," says she. "I say again, she is my mother, and will not own me;" and with that she stopped with a flood of tears.
"Not own thee!" says the Quaker; and the tender good creature wept too. "Why," says she, "she does not know thee, and never saw thee before."
"No," says the girl, "I believe she does not know me, but I know her; and I know that she is my mother."
"It's impossible, thou talk'st mystery!" says the Quaker; "wilt thou explain thyself a little to me?"
"Yes, yes," says she, "I can explain it well enough. I am sure she is my mother, and I have broke my heart to search for her; and now to lose her again, when I was so sure I had found her, will break my heart more effectually."
"Well, but if she be thy mother," says the Quaker, "how can it be that she should not know thee?"
"Alas!" says she, "I have been lost to her ever since I was a child; she has never seen me."