Eug. Lizzie, I am sorry it ever happened. You see, I am a thoughtless kind of a fellow. I—I—have done a great many things I ought not. (Tries to take her hand.)
Liz. (C., repulsing him). Then cultivate a different disposition in amends for the past and to save yourself from ruin, to which thoughtlessness is too often a guide. (Goes up R.)
Eug. (L.). 'Pon my word, I—I believe I will try.
(Enter Mr. Grovenor, R. 1 E., hastily, with paper clutched in his hand.)
Mr. G. This—this is a forgery, and you, Eugene, do you—do you know—was it—can it have been you?
Eug. (L., aside). Heaven! that note to-day! I thought it was to-morrow. What shall I do?
Mr. G. (C.). Answer and contradict if you can the guilt I see in your face.
Eug. Father, forgive me. It was a debt of honor and I hoped to be able to pay the note before it came due. I—
Mr. G. Then it was you, my son. My curse upon you, ungrateful and miserable son. Go—to a prison. I will have no mercy on you.
(Lizzie screams and comes down R.)