Thornton (turns with a start). You here?
Harry (trembling). Yes, yes; don't be fierce, don't. It is so dark and dismal up there! and the rats—oh, such rats!—glare at me from their holes. I couldn't stay. Don't send me back: I'll be very quiet. I'm sober too. Not a drop for two days: not a drop.
Thornton. What's the matter with you now?
Harry. Oh! nothing, nothing: only I wanted to be sociable (tries to smile),—as sociable as you and I were in the old times.
Thornton. Sociable! you and I! Bah! you're shaking like an aspen. What friendship can there be between me and a miserable sot like you?
Harry. Yes, I know I'm not the man I used to be: I know it. Oh, the thought of that other life I lived once, tortures me almost to madness!
Thornton. Well, why don't you go back to it?
Harry. Back? back to that old home among the hills from which I came, full of lusty manhood? Back to the old man who looked upon me with all a father's pride? the dear mother whose darling I was? the fair, young girl whose heart I broke? Back there, with tottering steps, a pitiful wreck, to die upon the threshold of the dear old home? No, no: not that, not that!
Thornton. Then be quiet. You have brought ruin upon yourself: you can't complain of me.