Ash. I am assured of it, and could I satisfy myself—
Black. Satisfy! why you may be satisfied—the men who killed Collins, doubtless did it for his gold—they were disappointed, and instead of the money going to villains and blood-shedders, it has fallen into the hands of honest men.
Ash. Honest—aye if we return it.
Black. No, then it would be fools, upon whom fortune had thrown away her favours—Collins is dead! mountains of gold could not put life—no, not even into his little finger—what good then can come of returning the bag, and what harm to the dead or to the world, by our keeping it?
Ash. You speak rightly, a little reasoning—
Black. Aye, a little reasoning as you say, does much in such matters.
Ash. And yet the greatest rogues may commit crimes with as fair a shew of necessity—’tis not Blackthorn—’tis not in the nature of guilt to want an excuse.
Black. Away with all this—will you be a man?
Ash. (after a moment’s struggle.) I will—come what will, I’ll return the gold—farewell—(Is going off, when child runs in. R.)
Child. Oh father! father, all is lost