ous 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. I, you understand, was only an
after-thought consequent upon his success. He came to California upon
this pilgrimage two years ago. He had no recollection, so they tell me,
by which he could recognize this erring son; and at first his search
was wild, profitless, and almost hopeless. But by degrees, and with
a persistency that seemed to increase with his hopelessness, he was
rewarded by finding some clew to him at--at--at--

Sandy (excitedly). At Poker Flat?

Miss Mary. Ah, perhaps you know the story,--at Poker Flat. He traced him
to the Mission of San Carmel.

Sandy. Yes, miss: go on.

Miss Mary. He was more successful than he deserved, perhaps. He found
him. I see you know the story.

Sandy. Found him! Found him! Miss, did you say found him?

Miss Mary. Yes, found him. And today Alexander Morton, the reclaimed
prodigal, is part of the household I am invited to join. So you see, Mr.
Sandy, there is still hope. What has happened to him is only a promise
to you. Eh! Mr. Sandy--what is the matter? Are you ill? Your exertion
this morning, perhaps. Speak to me! Gracious heavens, he is going mad!
No! No! Yes--it cannot be--it is--he HAS broken his promise: he is drunk
again.

Sandy (rising, excited and confused). Excuse me, miss, I am a little
onsartain HERE (pointing to his head). I can't--I disremember--what you
said jus' now: ye mentioned the name o' that prodigal that was found.

Miss