Mrs. L. Edward, I am about to tell you something that will pierce your heart; turn your dear face away from me. You—you are not my child.
Edward (turning deadly pale). Not your child?
Mr. S. No, sir; and perhaps what seems to be so great a misfortune now coming upon you, may prove a blessing in disguise.
Edward (clasping his hands convulsively together). Not your child?
Mr. S. Yes; through love and ambition for their own son, Mary and her husband were weak enough to change you for the son of Mr. Langdon; to change the name and dress of the two infants, was all that was necessary.
Mrs. L. And now, Mary, repenting of this, has made me a confession. Morris is my son and you are hers.
Edward. You are not my mother?
Mrs. L. No, Edward; but take heart. I shall still love you and take care of you. Come, Morris; come, my real son, do not cry; come to me.
Morris (rushing into Mary's arms). Oh, no! no! Mr. Edward has been your son for so long; keep him, keep him. I cannot leave my mother, I must go home with her (bursting into tears).
Mary. But, Morris, he is my son.