Oakhurst. You swear!
The Duchess (hesitates, gasps, and looks around for her child; then seizing it, and drawing it toward her). I—swear.
Oakhurst. Enough. Seek not to know why I am here, and under his name. Enough for you that it has saved your child's future, and secured him his heritage past all revocation. Yet remember! a word from you within the next few days destroys it all. After that, I care not what you say.
The Duchess. Jack! One word, Jack, before I go. I never thought to bring my shame to you!—to HIM!
Oakhurst. It was no trick, then, no contrivance, that brought her here. No: it was fate. And at least I shall save his child.
Re-enter STARBOTTLE, MISS MARY, and DUCHESS.
Col. Starbottle (impressively). Permit me, Mr. Alexander Morton, as the friend of my—er—principal to declare that we have received—honorable—honorable—satisfaction. Allow me, sir, to grasp the hand, the—er—cherished hand of a gentleman who, demn me! has fulfilled all his duties to—er—society and gentlemen. And allow me to add, sir, should any invidious criticism of the present—er—settlement be uttered in my presence, I shall hold that critic responsible, sir—er—personally responsible!
Miss Mary (sweeping truculently and aggressively up to JOHN OAKHURST). And permit ME to add, sir, that, if you can see your way clearly out of this wretched muddle, it's more than I can. This arrangement may be according to the Californian code of morality, but it doesn't accord with my Eastern ideas of right and wrong. If this foolish, wretched creature chooses to abandon all claim upon you, chooses to run away from you,—why, I suppose, as a GENTLEMAN, according to your laws of honor, you are absolved. Good-night, Mr. Alexander Morton. (Goes to door C., and exit, pushing out STARBOTTLE, the DUCHESS, and child. MR. OAKHURST sinks into chair at desk, burying his face in his hands. Re-enter slowly and embarrassedly, MISS MARY: looks toward OAKHURST, and comes slowly down stage.)
Miss Mary (aside). I was too hard on him. I was not so hard on Sandy when I thought that he—he—was the father of her child. And he's my own flesh and blood, too; and—he's crying. (Aloud.) Mr. Morton.
Oakhurst (slowly lifting his head). Yes; Miss Mary.