Reu. Ay; and I recognize that locket as one that he placed about the neck of his missing daughter the very day he abandoned her. Come, sir, from whom did you receive it? It is a love-token—a token of betrothal. To whom are you betrothed?
Geof. (much agitated). I decline to say.
Enter Dorothy at back. Dan’l stops her, and motions her to be silent. They both listen together.
Reu. Shall I hazard a conjecture or guess? Thou art here, making free in the blacksmith’s forge. The blacksmith hath a daughter—her name is Dorothy. Shall we say that it is to Dorothy that thou art betrothed?
Geof. (with an effort to speak unconcernedly). What, Dorothy Druce? No, no, Master Bailiff, not Dorothy Druce!
[Dorothy expresses surprise and pain.
Reu. And yet I noticed that when I spake lightly of her thou didst start in anger, and flush up in a fashion ridiculous to behold. I have the eye of a hawk.
Geof. (confused). Oh—for that—it is true that I have laughed and jested with Dorothy, but you know we sailors have a special license for such love frolics. We mean nothing by them. It is said of us that we have a wife in every port—well, that’s a slander, but at least I’ll plead guilty to a sweetheart in every village.
[Dorothy weeps on Dan’l’s bosom.
Reu. Ha! Thou art a shameless young reprobate by thine own showing. It will go hard but Sir Jasper will elicit the truth. We shall meet again!