SCENE. Residence of GENERAL BUCKTHORN, in Washington. Interior. Fireplace slanting upward. Small alcove. Opening to hall, with staircase beyond, and also entrance from out left. Door up stage. A wide opening, with portieres to apartment. Upright piano down stage. Armchair and low stool before fireplace. Small table for tea, etc. Ottoman. Other chairs, ottomans, etc., to taste.

TIME. Afternoon.

DISCOVERED. MRS. HAVERILL, in armchair, resting her face upon her hand, and looking into the fire. EDITH is on a low stool at her side, sewing a child’s garment.

EDITH. It seems hardly possible that the war is over, and that General Lee has really surrendered. [Fife and drum, without.] There is music in the streets nearly all the time, now, and everybody looks so cheerful and bright. [Distant fife and drums heard playing “Johnnie Comes Marching Home." EDITH springs up and runs up to window, looking out.] More troops returning! The old tattered battle-flag is waving in the wind, and people are running after them so merrily. [Music stops.] Every day, now, seems like a holiday. [Coming down.] The war is over. All the women ought to feel very happy, whose whose husbands are coming back to them.

MRS. HAVERILL. Yes, Edith; those women whose husbands are coming back to them. [Still looking into fire.

EDITH. Oh! [Dropping upon the stool, her head upon the arm of the chair.

MRS. HAVERILL. [Resting her arm over her.] My poor little darling! Your husband will not come back.

EDITH. Frank’s last message has never reached me.

MRS. HAVERILL. No; but you have one sweet thought always with you. Madeline West heard part of it, as Gertrude wrote it down. His last thought was a loving one, of you.

EDITH. Madeline says that he was thinking of you, too. He knew that you were taking such loving care of his little one, and of me. You have always done that, since you first came back from Charleston, and found me alone in New York.

MRS. HAVERILL. I found a dear, sweet little daughter. [Stroking her head.] Heaven sent you, darling! You have been a blessing to me. I hardly know how I should have got through the past few months at all without you at my side.

EDITH. What is your own trouble, dear? I have found you in tears so often; and since last October, after the battle of Cedar Creek, you you have never shown me a letter from from my Frank’s father. General Haverill arrived in Washington yesterday, but has not been here yet. Is it because I am here? He has never seen me, and I feel that he has never forgiven Frank for marrying me.

MRS. HAVERILL. Nonsense, my child; he did think the marriage was imprudent, but he told me to do everything I could for you. If General Haverill has not been to see either of us, since his arrival in Washington, it is nothing that you need to worry your dear little head about. How are you getting on with your son’s wardrobe?

EDITH. Oh! Splendidly! Frankie isn’t a baby any longer; he’s a man, now, and he has to wear a man’s clothes. [Holding up a little pair of trousers, with maternal pride.] He’s rather young to be dressed like a man, but I want Frank to grow up as soon as possible. I long to have him old enough to understand me when I repeat to him the words in which General Haverill told the whole world how his father died! [Rising.] And yet, even in his official report to the Government, he only honoured him as Lieutenant Bedloe. He has never forgiven his son for the disgrace he brought upon his name.

MRS. HAVERILL. I know him so well [Rising.] the unyielding pride, that conquers even the deep tenderness of his nature. He can be silent, though his own heart is breaking. [Aside.] He can be silent, too, though my heart is breaking. [Dropping her face in her hand.

EDITH. Mother! [Putting her arm about her.

Enter JANNETTE.

JANNETTE. A letter for you, Madam.

MRS. HAVERILL. [Taking note. Aside.] He has answered me. [Opens and reads; inclines her head to JANNETTE, who goes out to hall. Aloud.] General Haverill will be here this afternoon, Edith. [Exit up the stairs.

EDITH. There is something that she cannot confide to me, or to anyone. General Haverill returned to Washington yesterday, and he has not been here yet. He will be here to-day. I always tremble when I think of meeting him.

GENERAL BUCKTHORN appears in hall.

BUCKTHORN. Come right in; this way, Barket. Ah, Edith!

BARKET. [Entering.] As I was saying, sur just after the battle of Sayder Creek began

BUCKTHORN. [To EDITH.] More good news! The war is, indeed, over, now!

BARKET. Whin Colonel Wist rode to the front to mate his raytrating rigiment

BUCKTHORN. General Johnson has surrendered his army, also; and that, of course, does end the war.

EDITH. I’m very glad that all the fighting is over.

BUCKTHORN. So am I; but my occupation, and old Barket’s, too, is gone. Always at work on new clothes for our little soldier?

EDITH. He’s growing so, I can hardly make them fast enough for him. But this is the time for his afternoon nap. I must go now, to see if he is sleeping soundly.

BUCKTHORN. Our dear little mother! [Tapping her chin.] I always claim the privilege of my white hair, you know. [She, puts up her lips; he kisses her. She goes out.] The sweetest young widow I ever saw! [BARKET coughs. BUCKTHORN turns sharply; BARKET salutes.] Well! What the devil are you thinking about now?

BARKET. The ould time, sur. Yer honour used to claim the same privilege for brown hair.

BUCKTHORN. You old rascal! What a memory you have! You were telling me for the hundredth time about the battle of Cedar Creek; go on. I can never hear it often enough. Kerchival West was a favourite of mine, poor fellow!

BARKET. Just afther the battle of Sayder Creek began, when the Colonel rode to the front to mate his raytrating rigiment

BUCKTHORN. I’ll tell Old Margery to bring in tea for both of us, Barket.

BARKET. For both of us, sur?

BUCKTHORN. Yes; and later in the evening we’ll have something else, together. This is a great day for all of us. I’m not your commander to-day, but your old comrade in arms [Laying his arm over BARKET’S shoulder.] and I’m glad I don’t have to pull myself up now every time I forget my dignity. Ah! you and I will be laid away before long, but we’ll be together again in the next world, won’t we, Barket?

BARKET. Wid yer honour’s permission. [Saluting.

BUCKTHORN. Ha ha ha! [Laughing.] If we do meet there I’m certain you’ll salute me as your superior officer. There’s old Margery, now. [Looking to door. Calls.] Margery! Tea for two!

MARGERY. [Without.] The tay be waiting for ye, sur; and it be boilin’ over wid impatience.

BUCKTHORN. Bring up a chair, Barket. [Sitting in arm-chair.

BARKET. [Having placed table and drawing up a chair.] Do you know, Gineral, I don’t fale quite aisy in my moind. I’m not quite sure that Margery will let us take our tay together. [Sits down, doubtfully.

BUCKTHORN. I hadn’t thought of that. I [Glancing right.] I hope she will, Barket. But, of course, if she won’t she’s been commander-in-chief of my household ever since Jenny was a baby.

BARKET. At Fort Duncan, in Texas.

BUCKTHORN. You and Old Margery never got along very well in those days; but I thought you had made it all up; she nursed you through your wound, last summer, and after the battle of Cedar Creek, also.

BARKET. Yis, sur, bliss her kind heart, she’s been like a wife to me; and that’s the trouble. A man’s wife is such an angel when he’s ill that he dreads to get well; good health is a misfortune to him. Auld Margery and I have had anither misunderstanding.

BUCKTHORN. I’ll do the best I can for both of us, Barket. You were telling me about the battle of

BARKET. Just afther the battle of Sayder Creek began, whin Colonel Wist rode to the front to mate his raytrating rigiment

Enter OLD MARGERY, tray, tea, &c. She stops abruptly, looking at BARKET. He squirms in his chair. BUCKTHORN rises and stands with his back to the mantel. OLD MARGERY moves to the table, arranges things on it, glances at BARKET, then at BUCKTHORN, who looks up at ceiling, rubbing his chin, &c. OLD MARGERY takes up one of the cups, with saucer.

OLD MARGERY. I misunderstood yer order, sur. I see there’s no one here but yerself. [Going right.

BUCKTHORN. Ah, Margery! [She stops.] Barket tells me that there has been a slight misunderstanding between you and him.

OLD MARGERY. Day before yisterday, the ould Hibernian dhrone had the kitchen upside down, to show anither old milithary vagabone loike himself how the battle of Sayder Creek was fought. He knocked the crame pitcher into the basket of clane clothes, and overturned some raspberry jam and the flat-irons into a pan of fresh eggs. There has been a misunderstanding betwane us.

BUCKTHORN. I see there has. I suppose Barket was showing his friend how Colonel Kerchival West rode forward to meet his regiment, when he was already wounded dangerously.

OLD MARGERY. Bliss the poor, dear young man! He and I was always good frinds, though he was somethin’ of a devil in the kitchen himself, whin he got there. [Wiping her eye with one corner of her apron.] And bliss the young Southern lady that was in love wid him, too. [Changing the cup and wiping the other eye with the corner of her apron.] Nothing was iver heard of ayther of thim after that battle was over, to this very day.

BUCKTHORN. Barket was at Kerchival’s side when he rode to the front. [OLD MARGERY hesitates a moment, then moves to the table, sets down the cup and marches out. BUCKTHORN sits in the arm-chair again, pouring tea.] I could always find some way to get Old Margery to do what I wanted her to do.

BARKET. You’re a great man, Ginerel; we’d niver have conquered the South widout such men.

BUCKTHORN. Now go on, Barket; you were interrupted.

BARKET. Just afther the battle of Sayder Creek began, whin

Enter JANNETTE with card, which she hands to BUCKTHORN.

BUCKTHORN. [Reading card.] Robert Ellingham! [Rises.] I will go to him. [To JANNETTE.] Go upstairs and tell Madeline to come down.

JANNETTE. Yes, sir. [Going.

BUCKTHORN. And, Jannette, simply say there is a caller; don’t tell her who is here. [Exit JANNETTE upstairs. BUCKTHORN follows her out to hall.] Ellingham! My dear fellow! [Extending his hand and disappearing.

BARKET. Colonel Ellingham and Miss Madeline lovers! That’s the kind o’ volunteers the country nades now!

Enter BUCKTHORN and ELLINGHAM.

BUCKTHORN. [As he enters.] We’ve been fighting four years to keep you out of Washington, Colonel, but we are delighted to see you within the lines, now.

ELLINGHAM. I am glad, indeed, General, to have so warm a welcome. But can you tell me anything about my sister, Gertrude?

BUCKTHORN. About your sister? Why, can’t you tell us? And have you heard nothing of Kerchival West on your side of the line?

ELLINGHAM. All I can tell you is this: As soon as possible after our surrender at Appomattox, I made my way to the Shenandoah Valley. Our home there is utterly deserted. I have hurried down to Washington in the hopes that I might learn something of you. There is no human being about the old homestead; it is like a haunted house empty, and dark, and solitary. You do not even know where Gertrude is?

BUCKTHORN. We only know that Kerchival was not found among the dead of his own regiment at Cedar Creek, though he fell among them during the fight. The three girls searched the field for him, but he was not there. As darkness came on, and they were returning to the house, Gertrude suddenly seized the bridle of a stray horse, sprang upon its back and rode away to the South, into the woods at the foot of Three Top Mountain. The other two girls watched for her in vain. She did not return, and we have heard nothing from her since.

ELLINGHAM. Poor girl! I understand what was in her thoughts, and she was right. We captured fourteen hundred prisoners that day, although we were defeated, and Kerchival must have been among them. Gertrude rode away, alone, in the darkness, to find him. I shall return to the South at once and learn where she now is.

JANNETTE has re-entered, down the stairs.

JANNETTE. Miss Madeline will be down in a moment. [Exit in hall.

BARKET. [Aside.] That name wint through his chist like a rifle ball.

BUCKTHORN. Will you step into the drawing-room, Colonel? I will see Madeline myself, first. She does not even know that you are living.

ELLINGHAM. I hardly dared asked for her. [Passing; turns.] Is she well?

BUCKTHORN. Yes; and happy or soon will be.

ELLINGHAM. Peace, at last! [Exit to apartment. BUCKTHORN closes portieres.

BUCKTHORN. I ought to prepare Madeline a little, Barket; you must help me.

BARKET. Yis, sur, I will.

Enter MADELINE down the stairs.

MADELINE. Uncle! Jannette said you wished to see me; there is a visitor here. Who is it?

BARKET. Colonel Robert Ellingham.

MADELINE. Ah! [Staggering.

BUCKTHORN. [Supporting her.] You infernal idiot! I’ll put you in the guard-house!

BARKET. You wanted me to help ye, Gineral.

MADELINE. Robert is alive and here? [Rising from his arms, she moves to the portieres, holds them aside, peeping in; gives a joyful start, tosses aside the portieres and runs through.

BUCKTHORN. Barket! There’s nothing but that curtain between us and
Heaven.

BARKET. I don’t like stayin’ out o’ Hivin, myself, sur. Gineral! I’ll kiss Ould Margery if I die for it! [Exit.

BUCKTHORN. Kiss Old Margery! I’ll give him a soldier’s funeral. [Enter JENNY from hall, demurely.] Ah! Jenny, my dear! I have news for you. Colonel Robert Ellingham is in the drawing-room.

JENNY. Oh! I am delighted. [Starting.

BUCKTHORN. A-h-e-m!

JENNY. Oh! exactly. I see. I have some news for you, papa. Captain Heartsease has arrived in Washington.

BUCKTHORN. Oh! My dear! I have often confessed to you how utterly mistaken I was about that young man. He is a soldier as good a soldier as you are. I’ll ask him to the house.

JENNY. [Demurely.] He is here now.

BUCKTHORN. Now?

JENNY. He’s been here an hour; in the library.

BUCKTHORN. Why! Barket and I were in the library fifteen minutes ago.

JENNY. Yes, sir. We were in the bay-window; the curtains were closed.

BUCKTHORN. Oh! exactly; I see. You may tell him he has my full consent.

JENNY. He hasn’t asked for it.

BUCKTHORN. Hasn’t he? And you’ve been in the bay-window an hour? Well, my darling I was considered one of the best Indian fighters in the old army, but it took me four years to propose to your mother. I’ll go and see the Captain. [Exit to hall.

JENNY. I wonder if it will take Captain Heartsease four years to propose to me. Before he left Washington, nearly two years ago, he told everybody in the circle of my acquaintance, except me, that he was in love with me. I’ll be an old lady in caps before our engagement commences. Poor, dear mother! The idea of a girl’s waiting four years for a chance to say “Yes.” It’s been on the tip of my tongue so often, I’m afraid it’ll pop out, at last, before he pops the question.

Enter BUCKTHORN and HEARTSEASE from hall.

BUCKTHORN. Walk right in, Captain; this is the family room. You must make yourself quite at home here.

HEARTSEASE. Thank you. [Walking down.

BUCKTHORN. My dear! [Apart to JENNY.] The very first thing he said to me, after our greeting, was that he loved my daughter.

JENNY. Now he’s told my father!

BUCKTHORN. He’s on fire!

JENNY. Is he? [Looking at HEARTSEASE, who stands quietly stroking his mustache.] Why doesn’t he tell me?

BUCKTHORN. You may have to help him a little; your mother assisted me. [Turning up stage.] When you and Jenny finish your chat, Captain [Lighting a cigar at the mantel.] you must join me in the smoking-room.

HEARTSEASE. I shall be delighted. By the way, General I have been in such a fever of excitement since I arrived at this house

JENNY. [Aside.] Fever? Chills!

HEARTSEASE. That I forgot it entirely. I have omitted a very important and a very sad commission. I have brought with me the note-book of Lieutenant Frank Bedloe otherwise Haverill in which Miss Gertrude Ellingham wrote down his last message to his young wife.

JENNY. Have you seen Gertrude?

BUCKTHORN. [Taking book.] How did this note-book come into your possession?

HEARTSEASE. Miss Ellingham visited the prison in North Carolina where I was detained. She was going from hospital to hospital, from prison to prison, and from burial-place to burial-place, to find Colonel Kerchival West, if living or some record of his death.

BUCKTHORN. Another Evangeline! Searching for her lover through the wilderness of this great war!

HEARTSEASE. I was about to be exchanged at the time, and she requested me to bring this to her friends in Washington. She had not intended to carry it away with her. I was not exchanged, as we then expected, but I afterwards escaped from prison to General Sherman’s army.

BUCKTHORN. I will carry this long-delayed message to the widowed young mother. [Exit.

JENNY. I remember so well, when poor Lieutenant Haverill took out the note-book and asked Gertrude to write for him. He he brought me a message at the same time. [Their eyes meet. He puts up his glasses. She turns away, touching her eyes.

HEARTSEASE. I I remember the circumstances you probably allude to; that is when he left my side I I gave him my I mean your lace handkerchief.

JENNY. It is sacred to me!

HEARTSEASE. Y-e-s I would say is it?

JENNY. [Wiping her eyes.] It was stained with the life-blood of a hero!

HEARTSEASE. I must apologize to you for its condition. I hadn’t any chance to have it washed and ironed.

JENNY. [Looking around at him, suddenly; then, aside.] What could any girl do with a lover like that? [Turning up stage.

HEARTSEASE. [Aside.] She seems to remember that incident so tenderly! My blood boils!

JENNY. Didn’t you long to see your your friends at home when you were in prison, Captain?

HEARTSEASE. Yes especially I longed especially, Miss Buckthorn, to see

JENNY. Yes! to see

HEARTSEASE. But there were lots of jolly fellows in the prison. [JENNY turns away.] We had a dramatic society, and a glee club, and an orchestra. I was one of the orchestra. I had a banjo, with one string; I played one tune on it, that I used to play on the piano with one finger. But, Miss Buckthorn, I am a prisoner again, to-night your prisoner.

JENNY. [Aside.] At last!

HEARTSEASE. I’ll show you how that tune went. [Turns to piano; sits.

JENNY. [Aside.] Papa said I’d have to help him, but I don’t see an opening. [HEARTSEASE plays part of an air with one finger; strikes two or three wrong notes.

HEARTSEASE. There are two notes down there, somewhere, that I never could get right. The fellows in prison used to dance while I played [Playing.] that is, the lame ones did; those that weren’t lame couldn’t keep the time.

JENNY. You must have been in great danger, Captain, when you escaped from prison.

HEARTSEASE. Y-e-s. I was badly frightened several times. One night I came face to face, on the road, with a Confederate officer. It was Captain Thornton.

JENNY. Oh! What did you do?

HEARTSEASE. I killed him. [Very quietly, and trying the tune again at once. Enter JANNETTE, from in hall; she glances into the room and goes up the stairs.] I used to skip those two notes on the banjo. It’s very nice for a soldier to come home from the war, and meet those I mean the one particular person that he you see, when a soldier loves a woman, as as

JENNY. [Aside.] As he loves me. [Approaches him.

HEARTSEASE. As soldiers often do [Plays; she turns away, petulantly; he plays the tune through correctly.] That’s it!

JENNY. [Aside.] I’m not going to be made love to by piece-meal, like this, any longer. [Aloud.] Captain Heartsease! Have you anything in particular to say to me? [He looks up.

HEARTSEASE. Y-e-s. [Rising.

JENNY. Say it! You told my father, and all my friends, that you were in love with me. Whom are you going to tell next?

HEARTSEASE. I am in love with you.

JENNY. It was my turn.

HEARTSEASE. [Going near to her.] Do you love me?

JENNY. [Laying her head quietly on his breast.] I must take time to consider.

HEARTSEASE. [Quietly.] I assume that this means “Yes.”

JENNY. It isn’t the way a girl says “No”

HEARTSEASE. My darling!

JENNY. Why! His heart is beating as fast as mine is!

HEARTSEASE. [Quietly.] I am frantic with joy. [He kisses her. She hides her face on his breast. Enter MRS. HAVERILL, down-stairs, followed by JANNETTE. MRS. HAVERILL stops suddenly. JANNETTE stands in the doorway. HEARTSEASE inclines his head to her, quietly looking at her over JENNY.] I am delighted to see you, after so long an absence; I trust that we shall meet more frequently hereafter.

JENNY. [Looking at him.] Eh?

HEARTSEASE. [Looking down at her.] I think, perhaps, it might be as well for us to repair to another apartment, and continue our interview, there!

JENNY. [Dropping her head on his breast again.] This room is very comfortable.

MRS. HAVERILL. Jenny, dear! [JENNY starts up; looks from MRS. HAVERILL to HEARTSEASE.

JENNY. Constance! I ’Bout face! March! [Turns and goes out.

MRS. HAVERILL. I am glad to see you again, Captain, and happy as well as safe.

HEARTSEASE. Thank you, Madam. I am happy. If you will excuse me, I will join my father in the smoking-room. [MRS. HAVERILL inclines her head, and HEARTSEASE walks out.

MRS. HAVERILL. Jannette! You may ask General Haverill to come into this room. [Exit JANNETTE. MRS. HAVERILL walks down, reading a note.] “I have hesitated to come to you personally, as I have hesitated to write to you. If I have been silent, it is because I could not bring my hand to write what was in my mind and in my heart. I do not know that I can trust my tongue to speak it, but I will come.”

Enter HAVERILL from hall; he stops.

HAVERILL. Constance!

MRS. HAVERILL. My husband! May I call you husband? After all these months of separation, with your life in almost daily peril, and my life what? Only a weary longing for one loving word and you are silent.

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.

EDITH. Father! [Laying her hand gently on his shoulder.] You shall see Frank’s face again. His little son is lying asleep upstairs; and when he wakes up, Frank’s own eyes will look into yours. I have just received his last message. I will read it to you. [Note-book. Reads.] “Tell our little son how his father died, not how he lived. And tell her who filled my own mother’s place so lovingly.” [She looks at MRS. HAVERILL, moves to her and hides her face in her bosom.] My mother!

MRS. HAVERILL. Edith my child! Frank loved us both.

EDITH. [Reading.] “Father’s portrait of her, which she gave to me in Charleston [HAVERILL starts.] helped me to be a better man.”

HAVERILL. [Rising to his feet.] Constance!

EDITH. [Reading.] “It was taken from me in Richmond, and it is in the possession of Captain Edward Thornton.”

HAVERILL. One moment! Stop! Let me think! [EDITH looks at him; retires up stage.] Thornton was a prisoner and to Kerchival West. A despatch had been found upon him he was searched! [He moves to her and takes both her hands in his own, bowing his head over them.] My head is bowed in shame.

MRS. HAVERILL. Speak to me, John, as you used to speak! Tell me you still love me!

HAVERILL. The the words will come but they are choking me now. [Presses her hand to his lips.

MRS. HAVERILL. We will think no more of the past, except of what was bright in it. Frank’s memory, and our own love, will be with us always.

Enter BUCKTHORN, followed by HEARTSEASE.

BUCKTHORN. Haverill! You are back from the war, too. It begins to look like peace in earnest.

HAVERILL. Yes. Peace and home. [Shaking hands with him. MRS. HAVERILL joins EDITH.

Enter BARKET.

BARKET. Gineral! [BUCKTHORN moves to him. HAVERILL joins MRS. HAVERILL and EDITH. BARKET speaks apart, twisting one side of his face.] I kissed her!

BUCKTHORN. Have you sent for a surgeon?

BARKET. I felt as if the inimy had surprised us agin, and Sheridan was sixty miles away.

HAVERILL. This is old Sergeant Barket. [BARKET salutes.] You were the last man of us all that saw Colonel West.

BARKET. Just afther the battle of Sayder Creek began whin Colonel Wist rode to the front to mate his retreating rigiment the byes formed in line, at sight of him, to raysist the victorious inimy. It was just at the brow of a hill about there, sur [Pointing with his cane.] and here! [He takes tray from table and sets it on the carpet. Lays the slices of bread in a row.] That be the rigiment. [All interested. MADELINE and ELLINGHAM enter, and look on. BARKET arranges the two cups and saucers in a row.] That be the inimy’s batthery, sur. [Enter MARGERY. She goes to the table; then looks around, sharply, at BARKET.

MARGERY. Ye ould Hibernian dhrone! What are yez doin’ wid the china on the floor? You’ll break it all!

BUCKTHORN. Ah Margery! Barket is telling us where he last saw Colonel Kerchival West.

MARGERY. The young Colonel! The tay-cups and saucers be’s the inimy’s batthery? Yez may smash ’em, if ye loike!

BUCKTHORN. Go on, Barket. [JENNY and HEARTSEASE have entered as BARKET proceeds; the whole party lean forward, intensely interested. GERTRUDE enters in hall, looks in, beckons out left. KERCHIVAL follows. They move up stage, back of the rest and unseen, listening.

BARKET. Just as the rigiment was rayformed in line, and Colonel Wist was out in front widout any coat or hat, and wid only a shtick in his hand we heard cheers in the rear. Gineral Sheridan was coming! One word to the men and we swept over the batthery like a whirlwind! [Slashing his cane through the cups and saucers.

MARGERY. Hoo-roo!

BARKET. The attack on the lift flank was checked. But when we shtopped to take breath, Colonel Wist wasn’t wid us. [GERTRUDE turns lovingly to KERCHIVAL. He places his arm about her.] Heaven knows where he is now. Afther the battle was over, poor Miss Gertrude wint off by hersilf into the wilderness to find him.

KERCHIVAL. My wife! You saved my life, at last! [Embracing her.

BARKET. They’ll niver come together in this world. I saw Miss Gertrude, myself, ride away into the woods and disappear behind a school-house on the battle-field, over there.

GERTRUDE. No, Barket [All start and look.] it was the little church; we were married there this morning!

CURTAIN.