To songs: MY TRADE * CONTENT * SING OF HOPE

SKY SO BLUE * ONLY A FRIEND

SCENE 70 - Outside FLANAGAN's Inn, same night after arrival of Capt. LAWTON and the WHARTON carriage.

(The Inn presented but a dreary spectacle to its newly arrived guests. In place of carpeting and window curtains are the yawning cracks of rude building construction and boards and paper in place of green glass windows in more than half of the missing panes.)

(Capt LAWTON attends to every improvement possible, and blazing fires are made before the rest of the party arrives. Troopers charged with this duty convey necessary articles of furniture, and Miss PEYTON and her companions, on arrival, find something like habitable apartments prepared for their reception.)

(The mind of SARAH has continued to wander during the ride, and, with the ingenuity of the insane, she accompanies every circumstance to the feelings that are uppermost in her bosom.)

LAWTON (to ISABELLA): It is impossible to minister to a mind that has sustained such a blow; time and God's mercy can alone cure it; but something more may be done towards the bodily comfort of all. You are a soldier's daughter, and used to scenes like this; help me to exclude some of the cold air from these windows.

(Miss SINGLETON complied with his request, and while LAWTON is endeavoring , from without, to remedy the defect of broken panes, ISABELLA is arranging a substitute for a curtain within.)

LAWTON: I hear the cart. BETTY is tenderhearted in the main; believe me, poor GEORGE will not only be safe, but comfortable.

ISABELLA: God bless her for her care, and bless you all. Dr. SITGREAVES has gone down the road to meet him. I know - - what is that glittering in the moon?

(Directly opposite the window where they stand, are outbuildings of the farm, and the quick eye of LAWTON catches at a glance the object to which she alluded.)

LAWTON: 'Tis the glare of fire-arms!

(Springing from the window toward his charger, which yet remain tied at the door. His movement are quick as thought, but a flash of fire is followed by the whistling of a bullet, before he has proceeded a step. A loud shriek bursts from the dwelling, and the Capt. springs to his saddle; with the whole of this business but a moment.)

LAWTON (shouting): Mount, mount and follow!

(Before his men can understand the cause of alarm, Roanoke has carried him in safety over the fence which lay between him and his foe. The chase is for life or death, but the distance to the rocks is again too short, and the disappointed trooper sees his intended victim vanish in their clefts, where he can not follow.)

LAWTON: By the life of Washington, I would have made two halves of him, had he not been so nimble on the foot --but a time will come!

(So saying he returns to his quarters, with the indifference of a man who knows his life is at any moment to be offered a sacrifice to his country.)

(An extraordinary tumult in the Inn induces him to quicken his speed, and on arriving at the door, the panic-stricken KATY informs him that the bullet, aimed at his own life, has taken effect in the bosom of Miss SINGLETON.)

SCENE - 71 - Inside FLANAGAN's Inn

(Dragoons had prepared two apartments for the ladies, one being attended as a sleeping room , situated within the other. Into the latter ISABELLA was immediately conveyed, at her own request, and placed on a rude bed by the side of the unconscious SARAH. When Miss PEYTON and FRANCES fly to her assistance, they find her with a smile on her pallid lip, and a composure in her countenance, that induces them to think her uninjured.)

Aunt JEANETTE: God be praised! the report of fire-arms, and your fall, had led me into an error. Surely, surely there was enough horror before; but this has been spared us.

(ISABELLA pressed her hand on her bosom, still smiling, but with a ghastliness that curdled the blood of FRANCES -

ISABELLA: Is GEORGE far distant? Let him know - hasten him, that I may see my brother once again.

MISS PEYTON: It is as I apprehended, but you smile - surely, you are not hurt!

ISABELLA: Quite well - quite happy, here is a remedy for every pain.

(SARAH risse from her reclining posture and gazes wildly at her companion. She stretches forth her own hand and raises that of ISABELLA's from her bosom. It is dyed in blood,)

SARAH: See, but it will not wash away love. marry, young woman, and then no one can expel him from your heart, unless - you find another there before you; then die, and go to heaven - there are no wives in heaven.

(The lovely maniac hides her face under the clothes, and continues silent during the remainder of the night. At this moment LAWTON enters. Inured as he was to danger in all its forms, and accustomed to the horrors of a partisan war, the trooper can not behold the ruin before him, unmoved. He bends over the fragile form of ISABELLA, and his gloomy eye betrays the workings of his soul..)

LAWTON: ISABELLA, I know you to possess a courage beyond the strength of a woman.

ISABELLA: Speak, if you have anything to say, speak fearlessly.

LAWTON: None ever receive a ball there, and survived.

ISABELLA: I have no dread of death, LAWTON, I thank you for not doubting me; I felt it, from the first.

LAWTON: Who could prove a recreant, and witness such a spirit! Hundreds of warriors have I witnessed in their blood, but never a firmer soul among them all.

ISABELLA; 'Tis the soul only, my sex and strength have denied me the dearest of privileges. But to you, Captain LAWTON, nature has been bountiful; you have an arm and a heart to devote to the cause; and I know they are an arm and a heart that will prove true to the last. And GEORGE - and - (she pauses, her lip quivers, and she lifts her eyes to the Captain -).

ISABELLA: Bless you, Capt. LAWTON, but leave me now, and prepare poor GEORGE for this unexpected blow.

(The trooper gazes a bit at the convulsive shudderings of her frame, which the scanty covering could not conceal; then withdraws to meet his comrade.)

(The interview between SINGLETON and his sister is painful, and for a moment, ISABELLA yields to a burst of tenderness; but, as if aware that her hours are numbered, she rouses herself to exertion.)

(At her earnest request, the room is left to herself, the Captain, and FRANCES. The surgeon's repeated applications to be permitted to use professional aid are steadily rejected, and, at length, he is unwillingly obliged to retire.)

ISABELLA: Raise me, and let me look upon a face that I love, once more (FRANCES assists her, as ISABELLA turns her eyes in sisterly affection upon GEORGE.) It matters little, my brother; - a few hours must close the scene.

GEORGE: Live! ISABELLA, my only sister! - my father! My poor father -

ISABELLA: There is the sting of death; but he is a soldier and a Christian. Miss WHARTON I would speak of what interests you, while yet I have strength for the task.

FRANCES: Nay, compose yourself; let no desire to oblige me endanger a life that is precious to - to - so many.

(Her words are nearly stifled by her emotions, for the other had touched a chord that thrilled to her heart.)

ISABELLA: Poor sensitive girl! but the world is still before you, and why should I disturb the little happiness it may afford. Dream on, lovely innocent! and may God keep the evil day of knowledge far distant!

FRANCES: Oh, there is even now little left for me to enjoy. I am heart-stricken, in all that I most loved.

ISABELLA: No, you have one inducement to wish for life, that pleads strongly in a woman's breast. It is a delusion that nothing but death can destroy - (exhaustion compels her to pause.) Miss WHARTON, if there breathes a spirit congenial to DUNWOODIE'S, and worthy of his love, it is your own.

(A flush of fire passes over the face of the listener, and she raises her eyes, flashing with an ungovernable look of delight, to the countenance of ISABELLA; but the ruin she beholds recalls better feelings, and again her head drops upon the covering of the bed. ISABELLA watches her emotion with a look that partakes both pity and admiration.)

ISABELLA: Such have been the feelings that I have escaped, yes, Miss WHARTON, DUNWOODIE is wholly yours.

GEORGE: Be just to yourself, my sister, let no romantic generosity cause you to forget your own character.

ISABELLA: It is not romance, but truth, that bids me speak. Oh how much I have lived within the hour! Miss WHARTON, I was born under a burning sun, and my feelings seem to have imbibed its warmth; I have existed for passion, only, and of Major DUNWOODIE -

(Neither her brother nor FRANCES interrupt her, when suddenly she recollects herself.)

ISABELLA: I remain selfish to the last; with me, Miss WHARTON, American and her liberties were my earliest passion, and (she pauses) Why should I hesitate on the brink of the grave! DUNWOODIE was my next and my last. But it was a love that was unsought.

GEORGE (springing from his bed and pacing the floor): ISABELLA!

ISABELLA: See how dependent we become under the dominion of worldly pride; it is too painful to GEORGE to learn that one he loves had not feelings superior to her nature and education.

FRANCES: Say no more, you distress us both.

ISABELLA: Peace, and listen. Here is the innocent, the justifiable cause. We are both motherless; but that aunt - that mild, plain-hearted, observing aunt, has given you the victory. Oh, how much she loses, who loses a female guardian to her youth. I have exhibited those feelings which you have been taught to repress. After this, can I wish to live?

GEORGE: ISABELLA , my poor ISABELLA! You wander in your mind.

ISABELLA: But one word more - for I feel the blood which ever flowed too swiftly, rushing where nature never intended it to go. Woman must be sought to be prized; her life is one of concealed emotions; blessed are they whose early impressions make the task free from hypocrisy, for such only can be happy with men like - like DUNWOODIE.

(Her voice fails, and she sinks back on her pillow in silence. The cry of SINGLETON brings the rest of the party to her bedside, but death is already upon her countenance; her remaining strength just suffices to reach the hand of GEORGE, and pressing it to her bosom for a moment, she relinquishes her grasp, and with a slight convulsion, expires.)

(FRANCES WHARTON had thought that fate had done its worst in endangering her brother, and destroying the reason of her sister; but the relief conveyed by the dying declaration of ISABELLA taught her that another sorrow aided in loading her heart with grief. She sees the whole truth at a glance; nor is the manly delicacy of DUNWOODIE lost upon her - everything tends to raise him in her estimation.)

(She is compelled to to substitute regret that her own act had driven him from her in sorrow, if not in desperation. It is not in the nature of youth, however, to despair; and FRANCES knows a secret joy in the midst of their distress, that gives a new spring to her existence.)

SCENE 72 - Morning outside the Inn

(The sun breaks forth on the morning that succeeded this night of desolation, and sees to mock the petty sorrows of those who receive his rays. LAWTON has early ordered his steed, and is ready to mount as the first burst of light breaks over the hills.)

(His orders are already given, and the trooper throws his leg across the saddle, in silence; and, casting a glance of fierce chagrin at the narrow space that had favored the flight of the sniper, he gives Roanoke the rein, and moves slowly towards the valley.)

(The stillness of death pervades the road, nor is there a single vestige of the scenes of the night, to tarnish the loveliness of a glorious morn. Struck with the contrast between man and nature, the fearless trooper rides by each pass of danger, regardless of what might happen; nor does he rouse himself from his musing, until the noble charger, snuffing the morning air, greets the steeds of the guard under Sgt. HOLLISTER.)

LAWTON: Have you seen anything?

HOLLISTER: Nothing, sir, that we dared to charge upon, but we mounted once, at the report of distant firearms.

LAWTON: 'Tis well, Ah, HOLLISTER, I would give the animal I ride, to have had your single arm between the wretch who drew that trigger and these useless rocks, which overhang every bit of ground, as if they grudged pasture to a single hoof.

HOLLISTER: Under the light of day, and charging man to man, I am as good as another; but I can't say that I'm over-fond of fighting with those that neither steel nor lead can bring down.

LAWTON: What silly crochet is uppermost, now, in that mystified brain of thine, Deacon HOLLISTER?

HOLLISTER: I like not the dark object that has been maneuvering in the skirt of the wood since the first dawn of day; and twice, during the night, it was seen marching across the firelight, no doubt with evil intent.

LAWTON: Is it yon ball of black, at the foot of the rock maple, that you mean? In truth it moves.

HOLLISTER: But without mortal motion, it glides along, but no feet have been seen by any who watch here,

LAWTON: Had it wings, it is mine; stand fast, until I join.

(The words are hardly uttered before Roanoke is flying across the plain, and apparently verifying the boast of his master.)

LAWTON: Those cursed rocks!

(He sees the object of his pursuit approaching the hillside, but either from want of practice or from terror, it passes the obvious shelter they offer, and flees into the open plain).

LAWTON: I have you man or devil! Halt and take quarter!

(His proposition is apparently acceded to; for at the sound of his powerful voice, the figure sinks to the ground, exhibiting a shapeless ball of black without life or motion.)

LAWTON: What have we here? A gala suit of the good maiden, JEANETTE PEYTON, wandering around its birthplace, or searching in vain for its discomforted mistress?

(He leans forward with his sword under the silken garment, by throwing aside the covering, discovers part of the form of the reverend gentleman who had fled from the LOCUSTS, the evening before, in his robes of office.)

LAWTON: In truth HOLLISTER had some ground for his alarm; an army chaplain is, at any time, a terror to a troop of horse.

(The clergyman collects himself enough to discover it is a face he knows, and somewhat disconcerted at the terror he manifests. He rises to offer some explanation. LAWTON receives his apologies with good humor, if not with much faith in their truth; and, after a short conversation on the state of the valley, the trooper courteously alights, and they proceed toward the guard.)

CLERGYMAN: I am so little acquainted with the rebel uniform, I was unable to distinguish whether those men, who you say are your own, did or did not belong to the gang of marauders.

LAWTON: Apology is unnecessary, sir; it is not your task as a minister of God, to take note of the facings of a coat. The standard under which you serve is acknowledged by us all.

CLERGYMAN: I serve under the standard of his majesty George III, but really the idea of being scalped has a strong tendency to unman a new beginner like myself.

LAWTON: Scalped! If it is to DUNWOODIE's squadron of Virginia light dragoons that you allude, it may be well to inform you that they generally take a bit of the skull with the skin.

CLERGYMAN: Oh, I have no apprehensions of gentlemen of your appearance; it is the natives that I apprehend.

LAWTON: Natives? I have the honor of being one, I do assure you, sir.

CLERGYMAN: Nay, I beg that I may be understood - I mean Indians; they do nothing but rob, and murder and destroy.

LAWTON: And scalp!

CLERGYMAN: Yes, sir, and scalp, too.

LAWTON: And did you expect to meet them in the neutral ground?

CLERGYMAN: Certainly, we understand in England that the interior swarms with them.

LAWTON (halting and staring him in the face in surprise): And you call this the interior of America?

CLERGYMAN: Surely, sir. I conceive myself to be in the interior.

LAWTON (pointing to the east): Attend, see you not that broad sheet of water which the eye cannot compass? thither lies the England you deem worthy to hold dominion over half the world. See you the land of your nativity?

CLERGYMAN (a little suspicious of his companion's sanity.): 'Tis impossible to behold objects at a distance of three thousand miles

LAWTON: Now turn your eyes westward and observe that expanse of water between the shores of America and China.

CLERGYMAN: I see nothing but land. There is no water to be seen.

LAWTON: 'Tis impossible to behold things at a distance of three thousand miles. If you apprehend the savages, seek them in the ranks of your prince. Rum and gold have preserved their loyalty.

CLERGYMAN: Nothing is more probable than my being deceived, but the rumors we have at home, and the uncertainty of meeting with such an enemy as yourself, induced me to fly at your approach.

LAWTON: 'Twas understandable. Those rocks and woods cover the very enemies you dread.

CLERGYMAN: The savages?

LAWTON: More than savages; men who, under the guise of patriotism, prowl the community, with a thirst for plunder that is unsatiable, and a love of cruelty that mocks the ingenuity of the Indian. Fellows whose mouths are filled with liberty and equality, and whose hearts are overflowing with cupidity and gall - gentlemen referred to as the Skinners.

CLERGYMAN: I've heard them mentioned in our army, and had thought them to be aborigines.

LAWTON: You did the savages an injustice.

(They approach the spot occupied by HOLLISTER, who witnesses surprise at the character of the prisoner made by his captain. The captain and his reverend associate, mounted on a mettled horse, return to the quarters of the troop.)

SCENE 73 - Mid-morning outside troop quarters at FOUR CORNERS

(It was the wish of SINGLETON to have his sister's remains conveyed to the [post commanded by his father, and preparations are being made to that effect. The wounded British are placed under the command of the chaplain, and towards the middle of the day, arrangements are completed.)

(Leaning in the doorway, gazing in moody silence at the ground, which had been the scene of last night's chase, LAWTON's ear catches the sound of a horse. The next moment one of his own troop appears dashing up the road, as if on business of last importance.)

(The steed is foaming and the rider has the appearance of having done a hard day's service. Without speaking, he places a letter in the hand of LAWTON, and leads his charger to the stable. The trooper knew the hand of the Major, and runs his eye over the following:)

LAWTON reads:

====I rejoice in the order of Washington, that the family of the LOCUSTS are to be removed above the Highlands. They are to be admitted to the society of Captain WHARTON, who waits only for their testimony to be tried. You will communicate this order, and with proper delicacy I do not doubt.

The English are moving up the river; and the moment you see the WHARTONs in safety, break up, and join your troop. There will be good service to be done when we meet, as Sir Henry is reported to have sent out a real soldier in command.

Reports must be made to the commandant at Peekskill, for Colonel SINGLETON is withdrawn to head-quarters, to preside over the inquiry upon poor WHARTON. Fresh orders have been sent to hang the peddler if we can take him, though they are not from the commander-in-chief. Detail a small guard with the ladies, and get into the saddle as soon as possible.

Yours sincerely,

PEYTON DUNWOODIE====