HAVERILL.  May I call you wife?  I do not wish to speak that word except with reverence.  You have asked me to come to you.  I am here.  I will be plain, direct and brief.  Where is the portrait of yourself, which I gave you, in Charleston, for my son?

MRS. HAVERILL.  Your son is dead, sir; and my portrait lies upon his breast, in the grave. [HAVERILL takes the miniature from his pocket and holds it towards her in his extended hand.  She starts back.] He gave it to you?  And you ask me where it is?

HAVERILL.  It might have lain in the grave of Kerchival West!

MRS. HAVERILL.  Ah!

HAVERILL.  Not in my son’s.  I found it upon his breast. [She turns front, dazed.] Well!  I am listening!  It was not I that sought this interview, Madam; and if you prefer to remain silent, I will go.  You know, now, why I have been silent so long.

MRS. HAVERILL.  My only witnesses to the truth are both dead.  I shall remain silent. [Turning towards him.] We stand before each other, living, but not so happy as they.  We are parted, forever.  Even if you should accept my unsupported word—­if I could so far forget my pride as to give it to you—­suspicion would still hang between us.  I remain silent. [HAVERILL looks at her, earnestly, for a moment; then approaches her.

HAVERILL.  I cannot look into your eyes and not see truth and loyalty there.  Constance!

MRS. HAVERILL.  No, John! [Checking him.] I will not accept your blind faith!

HAVERILL. [Looking down at the picture in his hand.] My faith is blind; blind as my love!  I do not wish to see! [Enter EDITH. She stops; looks at HAVERILL. He raises his head and looks at her.

EDITH.  This is General Haverill? [Dropping her eyes.] I am Edith, sir.

HAVERILL. [Gently.] My son’s wife. [Kisses her forehead.] You shall take the place he once filled in my heart.  His crime and his disgrace are buried in a distant grave.

EDITH.  And you have not forgiven him, even yet?

MRS. HAVERILL.  Is there no atonement for poor Frank’s sin—­not even his death?  Can you only bury the wrong and forget the good?

HAVERILL.  The good?

MRS. HAVERILL.  Your own words to the Government, as his commander!

HAVERILL.  What do you mean?

MRS. HAVERILL.  “The victory of Cedar Creek would have been impossible without the sacrifice of this young officer.”

HAVERILL.  My own words, yes—­but—­

EDITH.  “His name must take its place, forever, in the roll of names which his countrymen honour.”

HAVERILL.  Lieutenant Bedloe!

MRS. HAVERILL.  Haverill!  You did not know?

HAVERILL.  My—­son.

EDITH.  You did not receive mother’s letter?—­after his death?

HAVERILL.  My son! [Sinking upon chair or ottoman.] I left him alone in his grave, unknown; but my tears fell for him then, as they do now.  He died before I reached him.