(For a moment he has not been here himself, he has been on an island. He is a good son to MRS. MORLAND now, thinking of her only, placing her on the sofa, going on his knees beside her and stroking her kind face. Her arms go out to her husband, who has been reading the telegram.)
MR. MORLAND (dazed). Can’t be, can’t be!
SIMON (like some better father than he perhaps has been). It is all right, Mother. Don’t you be afraid. It is good news. You are a brave one, you have come through much, you will be brave for another minute, won’t you?
(She nods, with a frightened smile.)
Mother dear, it is Mary Rose.
MR. MORLAND. It can’t be true. It is too—too glorious to be true.
MRS. MORLAND. Glorious? Is my Mary Rose alive?
SIMON. It is all right, all right. I wouldn’t say it, surely, if it wasn’t true. Mary Rose has come back. The telegram is from Cameron. You remember who he was. He is minister there now. Hold my hand, and I’ll read it. ‘Your wife has come back. She was found to-day on the island. I am bringing her to you. She is quite well, but you will all have to be very careful.’
MRS. MORLAND. Simon, can it be?
SIMON. I believe it absolutely. Cameron would not deceive me.