Miss Mary. Nonsense. You are wrong. He has reformed; he has been
restored to his home,--your child's home, your home if you will but
claim it. Do not fear: I will make that right.
Enter SANDY slowly and sheepishly, R.; stops on observing the
Duchess, and stands amazed and motionless.
Miss Mary (observing SANDY--aside). He HAS returned. Poor fellow!
How shall I get rid of this woman? (Aloud.) Enough. If you are
sincere, I will take your child, and, God help me! bring him to his
home and yours. Are you satisfied?
The Duchess. Thank ye! Thank ye, miss; but--but thar's a mistake
somewhar. In course--it's natural--ye don't know the father of
that child, my boy Tommy, under the name o' Alexander Morton.
Ye're thinking, like as not, of another man. The man I mean lives
yer, in this camp: they calls him Sandy, miss,--SANDY!
Miss Mary (after a pause, coming forward passionately). Hush! I
have given you my answer, be it Alexander Morton or Sandy. Go now:
bring me the child this evening at my house. I will meet you
there. (Leads the DUCHESS to wing. The DUCHESS endeavors to fall
at her feet.)
The Duchess. God bless you, miss!
Miss Mary (hurriedly embracing her). No more, no more--but go!
[Exit DUCHESS. MISS MARY returns hurriedly to centre, confronting
SANDY.
Miss Mary (to SANDY, hurriedly and excitedly). You have heard what
that woman said. I do not ask you under what alias you are known
here: I only ask a single question.
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