HAVERILL.  His marriage was a piece of reckless folly, but I forgave him that.

MRS. HAVERILL.  I am sure that it was only after another was dependent on him that the debts of a mere spendthrift were changed to fraud—­and crime.

HAVERILL.  You may tell him that I will provide for her.

MRS. HAVERILL.  And may I take him no warmer message from his father?

HAVERILL.  I am an officer of the United States Army.  The name which my son bears came to me from men who had borne it with honour, and I transmitted it to him without a blot.  He has disgraced it, by his own confession.

MRS. HAVERILL. I cannot forget the poor mother who died when he was born; her whose place I have tried to fill, to both Frank and to you.  I never saw her, and she is sleeping in the old graveyard at home.  But I am doing what she would do to-day, if she were living.  No pride—­no disgrace—­could have turned her face from him.  The care and the love of her son has been to me the most sacred duty which one woman can assume for another.

HAVERILL.  You have fulfilled that duty, Constance.  Go to my son!  I would go with you, but he is a man now; he could not look into my eyes, and I could not trust myself.  But I will send him something which a man will understand.  Frank loves you as if you were his own mother; and I—­I would like him to—­to think tenderly of me, also.  He will do it when he looks at this picture. [Taking a miniature from his pocket.

MRS. HAVERILL.  Of me!

HAVERILL.  I have never been without it one hour, before, since we were married.  He will recognize it as the one that I have carried through every campaign, in every scene of danger on the Plains; the one that has always been with me.  He is a fugitive from justice.  At times, when despair might overcome him, this may give him nerve to meet his future life manfully.  It has often nerved me, when I might have failed without it.  Give it to him, and tell him that I send it. [Giving her the miniature.] I could not send a kinder message, and he will understand it. [Turning, stands a moment in thought. THORNTON appears at window, looking at them quietly over his shoulder, a cigar in his hand. MRS. HAVERILL sees him and starts with a suppressed breath, then looks at HAVERILL, who moves left.  Aside.] My son!  My son!  We shall never meet again! [Exit in thought.

MRS. HAVERILL looks after him earnestly, then turns and looks at THORNTON, drawing up to her full height. THORNTON moves up stage, beyond window.

MRS. HAVERILL.  Will he dare to speak to me again? [Enter THORNTON; he comes down quietly.  He has thrown away cigar.

THORNTON.  Mrs. Haverill!  I wish to offer you an apology.

MRS. HAVERILL.  I have not asked for one, sir!

THORNTON.  Do you mean by that, that you will not accept one?