_Mrs. G_. My child, yesterday, when the question was debated here, and wishing might have been of some avail, 'tis true you did not say much, but I thought, and so we all did, that you chose to stay. _Helen_. Did you? Mother, does the road to Albany wind over a hill like that? _Mrs. G_. Like what, Helen? _Helen_. Like yonder wooded hill, where the soldiers are stationed now? _Mrs. G_. Not that I know of? Why? _Helen_. Perhaps we may cross that very hill,--no--could we? _Mrs. G_. Not unless we should turn refugees, my love; an event of which there is little danger just now, I think. That road, as indeed you know yourself, leads out directly to the British camp. _Helen_. Yes--yes--it does. I know it does. I will not yield to it. 'Tis folly, all. _Mrs. G_. You talk as though you were dreaming still; my child. Put on your hat, and go into the garden for a little, the air is fresh and pleasant now; or take a ramble through the orchard if you will, you might meet Annie there,--no, yon she comes, and well too. It's quite time that I were gone again. I wish that we had nothing worse than dreams on hand. Helen, I must talk with you about these fancies; you must not thus unnerve yourself for real evil. [_Exit_. _Helen_. It were impossible,--it could not be!--how could it be?--Oh! these are wild times. Unseen powers are crossing their meshes here around us,--and, what am I--Powers?--there's but one Power, and that-- ----"He careth for the little bird, Far in the lone wood's depths, and though dark weapons And keen eyes are out, it falleth not But at his will." [_Exit_. PART SECOND * * * * * LOVE * * * * * DIALOGUE I. SCENE. _A little glen in the woods near Fort Edward. A young British Officer appears, attended by a soldier in the American uniform; the latter with a small sealed pacquet in his hand_. _Off_. Hist! _Sol_. Well, so I did; but---- _Off_. Hist, I say! _Sol_. A squirrel it is, Sir; there he sits. _Off_. By keeping this path you avoid the picket on the hill. It will bring you out where these woods skirt the vale, and scarcely a hundred rods from the house itself. [_Calling without_.] _Sol_. Captain Andre--Sir. _Off_. It were well that the pacquet should fall into no other hands. With a little caution there is no danger. It will be twilight ere you get out of these woods-- _Sol_. I beg your pardon, Sir; but here is that young Indian guide of mine, after all, above there, beckoning me. _Off_. Stay--you will come back to the camp ere midnight? _Sol_. Unless some of these quick-eyed rebels see through my disguise. _Off_. Do not forget the lodge as you return. A little hut of logs just in the edge of the woods, but Siganaw knows it well.