Mary. It would have killed my mother. But Will—where is he now?
Douglas. I haven’t the least idea. Of one thing be certain—he will never trouble you with his presence. His city life has not been a success. He will not return to boast of it. Besides, should he appear here, I must arrest him.
Mary. You arrest him? No, no; that would be infamous.
Douglas. He is a criminal; he has robbed me, and squandered my money. Why should I pardon him?
Mary. Because—because—(Aside.) O, Heavens, I have lost the power to plead for him!
Douglas. Mary, you will think better of your resolve. You love your brother; he is in danger. If I but raise my finger, disgrace and infamy are fastened upon him forever. I would not willingly be the instrument of justice in this case. I would not rob him of liberty; of the opportunity to wipe out this disgrace. But you, to-night, propose to rob me of my happiness; to blight my life by withholding the treasure I covet—yourself. Think you not, in such a case, revenge is justice?
Mary. What would you have me do?
Douglas. Fulfil your promise. Become my wife.
Mary. Still loving Ned Hartshorn?