Honora!
[_Exit._

_End of the Fourth Act._

ACT V.

SCENE, _the Encampment._

_Enter BLAND._

BLAND.

Suspense--uncertainty--man's bane and solace!
How racking now to me! My mother comes.
Forgive me, O my father! if in this war,
This wasting conflict of my wildering passions,
Memory of thee holds here a second place!
M'Donald comes with her. I would not meet him:
Yet I will do it. Summon up some courage--
Confess my fault, and gain, if not _his_ love,
At least the approbation of _my_ judgment.

_Enter MRS. BLAND and CHILDREN with M'DONALD._

BLAND.

Say, madam, is there no change of counsel,
Or new determination?

MRS. BLAND.

_Nought new_, my son.
The tale of misery is told unheard.
The widow's and the orphans' sighs
Fly up, unnoted by the eye of man,
And mingle, undistinguish'd, with the winds.
My friend [_To M'DONALD._], attend thy duties. I must away.

2nd CHILD.

You need not cry, Mama, the General will do it, I am sure; for I saw him
cry. He turn'd away his head from you, but I saw it.

MRS. BLAND.

Poor thing! come let us home and weep. Alas!
I can no more, for war hath made men rocks.
[_Exeunt MRS. BLAND and CHILDREN._

BLAND.

Colonel, I used thee ill this morning.

M'DONALD.

No!
Thyself thou used'st most vilely, I remember.

BLAND.

Myself sustained the injury, most true;
But the intent of what I said and did
Was ill to thee alone: I'm sorry for it.
Seest thou these blushes? They proceed from warmth
As honest as the heart of man e'er felt;--
But not with shame unmingled, while I force
This tongue, debased, to own, it slander'd thee,
And utter'd--I could curse it--utter'd falsehood.
Howe'er misled by passion, still my mind
Retains that sense of honest rectitude
Which makes the memory of an evil deed
A troublesome companion. I was wrong.

M'DONALD.

Why, now this glads me; for thou _now_ art right.
Oh, may thy tongue, henceforward, utter nought
But Truth's sweet precepts, in fair Virtue's cause!
Give me thy hand. [_Takes his hand._] Ne'er may it grasp a sword
But in defense of justice.

BLAND.

Yet, erewhile,
A few short hours scarce past, when this vile hand
Attempted on _thee_ insult; and was raised
Against thy honour; ready to be raised
Against thy life. If this my deep remorse-