Mary. Yes, mother, it is his birthday; but he is far, far away.
Hannah. Yes; but not too far away to reach his mother. I remember, as though it were but yesterday, when he was twelve years old. What a bright, noble boy he was! He came to my side, put his arms about my neck, and said, “Mother, I shall soon be a man!” Dear boy, he was a brave little man then. “And when I am a man, the first thing I shall do will be to run to you and kiss you, and thank you for making me a good, true man.” Dear boy! and I haven’t seen him for two years! and he don’t write to me; and you all look strange when I ask for him. But he’ll come to-day, I know he will, for he promised; and he never broke a promise he gave his mother—never.
Douglas. Ah, it’s shameful, shameful that a boy with so good a mother should turn out so bad!
Mary. (To Douglas.) Hush! For Heaven’s sake be merciful!
Hannah. What’s that! Who spoke? Who said my boy turned out bad?
Mary. Nobody, mother. Don’t mind that man. He’s deceived himself. It’s Henry Douglas.
Hannah. Henry Douglas? What does he know about my Will?
Douglas. Too much. He has deceived me. I thought him a true, noble boy; but he robbed me.
Enter Jarius, C.
Jarius. (Aside.) Jes’ so. He’s got to work. Where on airth is that Ned?