English

SCENE 2. — Morning twilight. A little wayside tavern at a cross-road .

Enter FITZGIBBON, reconnoitring .

Fitzgibbon . They must be pretty near by this time,
If they are come at all.

Not yet, my friends.

Enter a woman, the tavern-keeper.

Woman . Ye Yankee rogue! ye coward!

Fitzgibbon . Take that! and that!

ACT III

SCENE 1. — Decau's house, a stone edifice of some
pretensions. The parlour, with folding doors which
now stand a little apart. A sentry is visible, on the
other side of them. The parlour windows are
barricaded within, but are set open, and a branch of
a climbing rose with flowers upon it, swings in. The
sun is setting, and gilds the arms that are piled in
one corner of the room. A sword in its scabbard lies
across the table, near which, in an arm-chair,

Scene 4. — The forest, with the sun nearly below the horizon, its rays illuminate the tops of the trees, while all below is dark and gloomy. Bats are on the wing, the night-hawk careers above the trees, fire-flies flit about, and the death-bird calls .

Enter MRS. SECORD, showing signs of great fatigue .

Mrs. Secord . Gloomy, indeed, and weird, and oh, so lone!
In such a spot and hour the mind takes on
Moody imaginings, the body shrinks as'twere,
And all the being sinks into a sea
Of deariness and doubt and death.

SCENE 3 — A thick wood through which runs a forest path, leading to a high beech ridge .

Enter MRS. SECORD, walking as quickly as the underbrush will allow .

Mrs. Secord . How quiet are the woods!
The choir of birds that daily ushers in
The rosy dawn with bursts of melody,
And swells the joyful train that waits upon
The footsteps of the sun, is silent now,
Dismissed to greenwood bowers. Save happy cheep
Of callow nestling, that closer snugs beneath

SCENE 2. — A beautiful glade .

Enter MRS. SECORD. — After scanning the spot searchingly, she seats herself on a fallen trunk .

Mrs. Secord . This spot is surely safe; here I will rest,
For unaccustomed service tires my limbs,
And I have travelled many a weary rood
More than a crow-line measures; ups and downs
Absorb so many steps that nothing add
To distance. Faint am I, too, and thirsty.
Hist! hist! ye playful breezes that do make
Melodious symphonies and rippling runs

ACT II.

SCENE 1. — The great kitchen at St. David's Mill. Breakfast-time.

At the board are seated the Widow Stephen Secord, Sergeant George Mosier, and little Tom. Babette is waiting at table .

Widow. " Tis pitiful to see one's land go waste
For want of labour, and the summer days,
So rich in blessing, spend their fruitful force
On barren furrows. And then to think
That over both the Provinces it is the same, —
No men to till the land, because the war

Scene 5. — The Road at the foot of Queenston Heights .

Mrs. Secord . ( looking in the direction of her home ). Gone! Gone! Quite out of sight! Farewell, my home,
Casket that holds my jewels! If no more
My happy eyes rest on thy lowly roof,
If never more my ears drink in the sounds
Of sweeter music, in your loving tones,
My darlings, than e'er was drawn from harp
The best attuned, by wandering Aeolus,
Then let my memory, like some fond relic laid
In musk and lavender, softly exhale

Scene 4 — Daybreak on the 23 rd June , 1813.

Enter JAMES SECORD and his wife .

Mr. Secord . Heaven speed thee, then, dear wife. I'll try to bear
The dreadful pangs of helplessness and dread
With calm demeanour, if a bursting heart.

Mrs. Secord . Then will you taste a woman's common lot
In times of strait, while I essay man's r├┤le
Of fierce activity. We will compare
When I return. Now, fare-thee-well, my husband.

Scene 3. — Mrs. Secord's bedroom. She is walking up and down in much agitation .

Enter MR. SECORD.

Mrs. Secord ( springing to meet him ). Oh, James, where have you been?

Mr. Secord . I did but ramble through the pasture, dear,
And round the orchard. 'Twas so sweet and still.
Save for the echo of the sentry's tread
O'er the hard road, it might have been old times.
But — but — you're agitated, dear; what's wrong?
I see our unasked visitors were here.

SCENE 2. — The same place and the same hour .

Enter MRS. SECORD.

After a weary day the evening falls
With gentle benison of peace and rest.
The deep'ning dusk draws, like a curtain, round,
And gives the soul a twilight of its own;
A soft, sweet time, full of refreshing dews,
And subtle essences of memory
And reflection. O gentle peace, when —

Enter PETE, putting his head in at the door .

Pete . O, mistis! Heh, mistis!