Harry. Yes, yes, I remember!—a wild, reckless lad. He was sent to prison. He was a forger.
Dilly. ’Tis false! He was noble, generous, and good; and those who dare accuse him of crime are base slanderers.
Harry. (Aside.) She’s true, she’s true! (Aloud.) I beg your pardon; I was told—
Dilly. Told?—how dare you, beneath his father’s roof, partaking of his charity, repeat this falsehood? Oh, shame, shame, upon you!
Harry. I beg your pardon once more. It was ungrateful in me, I spoke without thought. Forgive me, I will go.
Dilly. No, no, sit down! Forgive me; for it was wrong in me to speak thus to one who never knew Harry.
Harry. Ah! Harry has a warm friend in you.
Dilly. I hope he has; for his kindness to me can never be repaid. For five years, every thought of mine has been to find some way to clear him, some way to prove his innocence. But, alas! his father’s illness has required all my attention; has kept me at his side: and I have found no way to serve him.
Harry. If he is innocent, wait: the time will come when the truth will triumph. Have faith, my child, have faith.