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.