[_Exeunt_. DIALOGUE II. SCENE. _A chamber in the Parsonage. Helen leaning from the open window_. (_Annie enters_.) _Annie_. Helen Grey, where on earth have you been? _Wood flowers!_ _Helen_. Come and look at this sunset. _Annie_. Surely you have not, you cannot have been in those woods, Helen: and yet, where else could this periwinkle grow, and these wild roses?--Delicious! _Helen_. Hear that flute. It comes from among those trees by the river side. _Annie_. It is the shower that has freshened every thing, and made the birds so musical. You should stand in the door below, as I did just now, to see the fort and the moistened woods stands out from that black sky, with all this brightness blazing on them. _Helen_. 'Tis lovely--all. _Annie_. There goes the last golden rim over the blackening woods; already even a shade of tender mourning steals over all things, the very children's voices under this tree,--how soft they grow. _Helen_. Will the day come when we shall see him sink, for the last time, behind those hills? _Annie_. Nay, Helen, why do you mar this lovely hour with a thought like that? _Helen_. And in another life, shall we see light, when his, for us, shines no more?--What sound is that? _Annie_. That faint cry from the woods? _Helen_. No,--more distant,--far off as the horizon, like some mighty murmur, faintly borne, it came. _Annie_. I wish that we had gone to-day. I do not like this waiting until Thursday;--just one of that elder brother's foolish whims it was. I cannot think how your consent was won to it. Did you meet any one in your walk just now? _Helen_. No--Yes, yes, I did. The little people where I went, I met by hundreds, Annie. Through the dark aisles, and the high arches, all decked in blue, and gold, and crimson, they sung me a most merry welcome. And such as these--see--You cannot think how like long-forgotten friends they looked, smiling up from their dark homes, upon me. _Annie_. You have had chance enough to forget them, indeed,--it is two years, Helen, since you have been in those woods before. What could have tempted you there to-day? _Helen_. Was there _danger_ then?--was there danger indeed?--I was by the wood-side ere I knew it, and then,--it was but one last look I thought to take--nay, what is it, Annie? George met me as I was coming home, and I remember something in his eye startled me at first; but if there was danger, I should have known of it before. _Annie_. How could we dream of your going there this evening, when we knew you had never set your foot in those woods since the day Everard Maitland left Fort Edward? _Helen_. Annie! _Annie_. For me, I would as soon have looked to see Maitland himself coming from those woods, as you. _Helen_. Annie! Annie Grey! You must not, my sister--do not speak that name to me, never again, _never_.