SCENE. _The British camp. Moonlight. A lady in a rich travelling dress,
standing in the door of a log-hut_.
_Lady Ackland_. (_Talking to her maid within_.) What is the matter,
Margaret? What do you go stealing about the walls so like a mad woman
for, with that shoe in your hand?
_Maid_. (_Within_.) There, Sir!--your song is done!--there's one less, I
am certain of that. _Coming to the door_.) If ever I get home alive, my
lady--Ha!--(_striking the door with her slipper_.) If ever--you are
there, are you? I believe I have broken my ear in two. The matter? Will
your ladyship look here?
_Lady A_. Well.
_Maid_. And if ever I get back to London, I'll say well too. If ever I
get back to London alive, my lady,--I'll see----
_Lady A_. What will you see, Margaret? Nothing lovelier than this, I am
sure. Are you not ashamed to stand muttering there? Come here, and look
at this beautiful night.
_Maid_. La, Lady Harriet!
_Lady A_. Listen! How still the camp is now! You can hear the rush of
those falls we passed, distinctly. How pretty the tents look there, in
that deep shade. These tuneful frogs and katy-dids must be our
nightingales to-night. Indeed, as I stand now, I could almost fancy that
fine wood there was my father's park; nay, methinks I see the top of the
old gray turrets peeping out among the shadows there. Look, Margaret, do
you see?
_Maid_. La! I can see woods enough, my lady, if that is what you
mean,--nothing else, and I have seen enough of them already to last me
one life through. Yes, here's a pretty tear I have got amongst
them!--Two guineas and a half it cost me in London,--I pray I may never
set my eyes on a wood again,
_Lady A_. This was some happy home once, I know. See that rose-bush, and
this little bed of flowers.--Here was a pretty yard--there went the
fence,--and there, where that waggon stands, by that broken pear-tree,
swung the gate. And pleasant meetings there have been at this door, no
doubt, and sorrowful partings too,--and hearts within have leaped at the
sound of that gate, and merry tales have been told by that desolate
hearth. In this little lonely unthought-of place, the mysterious world
of the human soul has unfolded,--the drama of life been played, as
grandly in the eyes of angels as in the proud halls where my life
dawned. And there are hearts that cling to this desolate spot as mine
does to that far-off home. We have driven them away in sorrow and fear.
This is war!
_Maid_. I wonder who is fluting under that tree there, so late. They are
serenading that Dutch woman, as I live.
_Lady A_. The Baroness, are you talking of, Margaret?
_Maid_. A baroness! Good sooth!--she looks like it, in that yellow silk,
and those odious beads, fussing about. If your ladyship will believe me,
I saw her sitting in her tent to-night, ay, in the door, feeding that
wretched child with her own hands. We can't be thankful enough they did
not put her in here with us, I'll own.
_Lady A_. Hush, hush, for shame! We might well have spared that empty
room. Come, we'll go in--It's very late. Strange that Sir George should
not be here ere this.
_Maid_. Look, my lady! Here's some one at the gate.
(_An officer enters the little court, with a hasty step_.)
_Officer_. Good evening to your ladyship.--Is Captain Maitland
here?--Sir George told me that he left him here.
_Lady A_. Ay, but he has been gone this hour. Stay, it is Andre's flute
you hear below there, and some one has joined him just now--yes, it is
he.
_Off_. Under that tree;--thank you, my lady.
_Lady A_. Stay, Colonel Hill,--I beg your pardon, but you spoke so
hastily.--This young Maitland is a friend of ours, I trust there is
nothing that concerns him painfully.--
_Off_. Oh nothing, nothing, except that he is ordered off to Fort Ann
to-night. There are none of us that know these wild routes as well as he.
[_Exit_.
_Lady A_. Good Heavens! What noise is that?
_Maid_. Lord 'a mercy! The battle is coming?
_Lady A_. Hush! (_To a sentinel who goes whistling by_.) Sirrah, what
noise is that?
_Sentinel_. It's these Indians, my lady; they have found the son of some
chief of theirs murdered in these woods, and they are bringing him to
the camp now. That's the mourning they make.
_Lady A_. The Lord protect us!
(_They enter the house_.)
* * * * *