Nothing,--nothing; but climbing
these stupid rocks has made me giddy: that's all. Your arm. (To
SANDY impatiently). Can't you give me your arm? (SANDY supports
MISS MARY awkwardly toward schoolhouse. At door MISS MARY pauses.)
But if reformation is so easy, so acceptable, why have you not
profited by it? Why have you not reformed? Why have I found you
here, a disgraced, dissipated, anonymous outcast, whom an honest
girl dare not know? Why do you presume to preach to me? Have you
a father?
Sandy. Hush, Miss Mary, hush! I had a father. Harkin. All that
you have suffered from a kinship even so far removed, I have known
from the hands of one who should have protected me. MY father was--
but no matter. You, Miss Mary, came out of your trials like gold
from the washing. I was only the dirt and gravel to be thrown
away. It is too late, Miss Mary, too late. My father has never
sought me, would turn me from his doors had I sought him. Perhaps
he is only right.
Miss Mary. But why should he be so different from others? Listen.
This very cousin whose offer I refused had a son,--wild, wayward,
by all report the most degraded of men. It was part of my cousin's
reformation to save this son, and, if it were possible, snatch him
from that terrible fate which seemed to be his only inheritance.
Sandy (eagerly). Yes, miss.
Miss Mary. To restore him to a regenerated home. With this idea
he followed his prodigal to California.
Pages:
53
54
55
56
57
58
59
60
61
62
63
64
65
66
67
68
69
70
71
72
73
74
75
76
77