_Helen_. Yes,--bid her come. _Annie_. Heaven only knows what you mean with this wild talk of yours, but if you are not mad indeed, I intreat you, sister, waste no more of this precious time. _Helen_. No, no,--we must not indeed. It was wrong, but I could not--go,--make haste, bid her come. _Annie_. She is crazed, certainly! [_Goes out_. (_Helen stands with her arms folded, and her eye fixed on the door_.) (_Mrs. Grey enters_.) _Mrs. G_. My child! Helen, Helen! Why do you stand there thus? _Helen_. Mother---- _Mrs. G_. Nay, do not stay to speak. There--throw this mantle around you. Where is your hat?--not here!--Bridal gear! (_George enters_.) _George_. On my word! Well, well, stand there a little longer, to dress those pretty curls of yours, and--humph--there's a style in vogue in yonder camp for rebels just now; we'll all stand a chance to try, I think. _Helen_. George!--George Grey!--Be still,--be still.--We must not think of that. It was a dream. _George_. Is my sister mad? _Helen_. Mother-- _Mrs. G_. Speak, my child. _Helen_. Mother--my blessed mother,--(_aside_.) 'Tis but a brief word,--it will be over soon. _Mrs. G_. Speak, Helen. _Helen_. I cannot go with you, mother. _Mrs. G_. Helen? _George_. Not go with us? _Mrs. G_. Helen, do you know what you are saying? _George_. You are in jest, Helen; or else you are mad,--before another sunset the British army will be encamping here. _Helen_. Hear me, mother. A message from the British camp came to me last night,-- _Mrs. G_. The British camp?--Ha!--ha! Everard Maitland! God forgive him. _Helen_. Do not speak thus. It was but a few cold and careless lines he sent me,--my purpose is my own. _Mrs. G_. And--what, and he does not know?--Helen Grey, this passes patience. _Helen_. He does, Here is the answer that has just now come; for I have promised to meet him to-day at the hut of the missionary in yonder woods.--I can hardly spell these hasty words; but this I know, he will surely come for me,--though he bids me wait until I hear his signal,--so I cannot go with you, mother. _Mrs. G_. Where will you go, Helen? _Helen_. Everard is in yonder camp;--where should the wife's home be? _Mrs. G_. The wife's? _Helen_. These two years I have been his bride;--his wedded wife I shall be to-day. Yonder dawns my bridal day. _George_. What does she say? What does Helen say? I do not understand one word of it. _Mrs. G_. She says she will go to the British camp. Desertions thicken upon us. Hark!--they are calling us. _George_. To the British camp? _Mrs. G_. Go down, George, go down. Your sister talks wildly and foolishly, what you should not have heard, what she will be sorry for anon; go down, and tell them they must wait for us a little,--we will be there presently.