thou shouldst rue thy folly--
But, for the motive, be the deed forgotten. [_Exit._

SCENE, _a Village._

_At a distance some tents. In front muskets, drums, and other
indications of soldiers' quarters._

_Enter MRS. BLAND and CHILDREN, attended by MELVILLE._

MELVILLE.

The General's doors to you are ever open.
But why, my worthy friend, this agitation?
Our Colonel, your husband----

MRS. BLAND [_in tears, gives him the letter_].

Read, Melville.

1st CHILD.

Do not cry, Mama, for I'm sure if Papa said he would come home to-day he
will come yet: for he always does what he says he will.

MRS. BLAND.

He cannot come, dear love; they will not let him.

2nd CHILD.

Why, then, they told him lies. Oh, fie upon them!

MELVILLE [_returning the letter_].

Fear nothing, Madam, 't is an empty threat:
A trick of policy. They dare not do it.

MRS. BLAND.

Alas! alas! what dares not power to do?
What art of reasoning, or what magic words,
Can still the storm of fears these lines have rais'd?
The wife's, the mother's fears? Ye innocents,
Unconscious on the brink of what a perilous
Precipice ye stand, unknowing that to-day
Ye are cast down the gulf, poor babes, ye weep
From sympathy. Children of sorrow, nurst,
Nurtur'd, midst camps and arms; unknowing man,
But as man's fell destroyer; must ye now,
To crown your piteous fate, be fatherless?
O, lead me, lead me to him! Let me kneel,
Let these, my children, kneel, till Andre, pardon'd,
Ensures to me a husband, them a father.

MELVILLE.

Madam, duty forbids further attendance.
I am on guard to-day. But see your son;
To him I leave your guidance. Good wishes
Prosper you! [_Exit MELVILLE._

_Enter BLAND._

MRS. BLAND.

My Arthur, O my Arthur!

BLAND.

My mother! [_Embracing her._

MRS. BLAND.

My son, I have been wishing
For you---- [_Bursts into tears, unable to proceed._

BLAND.

But whence this grief, these tears, my mother?
Why are these little cheeks bedew'd with sorrow?
[_He kisses the children, who exclaim_, Brother, brother!
Have I done ought to cause a mother's sadness?

MRS. BLAND.

No, my brave boy! I oft have fear'd, but never
Sorrow'd for thee.

BLAND.

High praise!--Then bless me, Madam;
For I have pass'd through many a bustling scene
Since I have seen a father or a mother.

MRS. BL