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 one, and not your true friend and servant, Concho." In six days, Don Alexandro, the year of probation is over, and I have promised my daughter's hand to your son. (Hands letter to MORTON.) Old Morton (ringing bell). Is that all, Mr. Castro? Don Jose. All, Mr. Castro? Carramba! is it not enough? Enter JACKSON. Old Morton (to JACKSON). You have kept a record of this business during the last eighteen months. Look at this letter. (Handing letter.) Is the handwriting familiar? Jackson (taking letter). Can't say, sir. The form is the old one. Old Morton. How many such letters have you received?