a deposit of
fifty thousand.

Old Morton. Is any one waiting?

Jackson. Yes, sir,--Don Jose Castro and Mr. Capper.

Old Morton. Show in the Don: the policeman can wait.

Jackson. Yes, sir. [Exit.

Old Morton (taking up STARBOTTLE'S note). "Miss Morris will arrive
to-night." And yet he saw her only yesterday. This is not like her
mother: no. She would never have forgiven and forgotten so quickly.
Perhaps she knew not my sin and her mother's wrongs; perhaps she
has--has--CHRISTIAN forgiveness (sarcastically); perhaps, like my
prodigal, she will be immaculately perfect. Well, well: at least her
presence will make my home less lonely. "An attendant and child." A
child! Ah, if HE, my boy, my Alexander, were still a child, I might warm
this cold, cold heart in his sunshine! Strange that I cannot reconstruct
from this dutiful, submissive, obedient, industrious Alexander,--this
redeemed outcast, this son who shares my life, my fortunes, my
heart,--the foolish, wilful, thoughtless, idle boy, that once defied me.
I remember (musing, with a smile) how the little rascal, ha, ha! once
struck me,--STRUCK ME!--when I corrected him: ha, ha! (Rubbing his hands
with amusement, and then suddenly becoming grave and lugubrious.) No,
no. These are the whisperings of the flesh. Why should I find fault with
him for being all that a righteous conversion demands,--all that I asked
and prayed for? No, Alexander Morton: it is you, YOU, who are not yet
regenerate. It is YOU who are ungrateful to Him who blessed you, to Him
whose guiding hand led you to--

Enter JACKSON.

Jackson. Don Jose Castro.

Enter DON JOSE.

Don Jose. A thousand pardons, senor, for interrupting you in the hours
of business; but it is--it is of business I would speak. (Looking
around.)

Old Morton (to JACKSON). You can retire. (Exit JACKSON.) Be seated, Mr.
Castro: I am at your service.

Don Jose. It is of your--your son--

Old Morton. Our firm is Morton & Son: in business we are one, Mr.
Castro.

Don Jose. Bueno! Then to you as to him I will speak. Here is a letter
I received yesterday. It has significance, importance perhaps. But,
whatever it is, it is something for you, not me, to know. If I am
wronged much, Don Alexandro, you, you, are wronged still more. Shall
I read it? Good. (Reads.) "The man to whom you have affianced your
daughter is not the son of Alexander Morton. Have a care. If I do not
prove him an impostor at the end of six days, believe me o