_Mor_. Captain Maitland? I saw him just now at the works above. _Andre_. Here? On this hill? _Mor_. Yes,--something struck me in his mien,--and there he stands with Colonel Hill, above, on the other side.--Mark him now. Your friend is handsome, Andre; he is handsome, I'll own,--but I never liked that smile of his, and I think I like it less than ever now. _Andre_. Why, that's the genuine Apollo-curl,--a line's breadth deeper were too much, I'll own. (_Maitland and another Officer enter_.) _Off_. That is all,--that is all, I believe, Captain Maitland. Yonder pretty dwelling among the trees seems an old acquaintance of yours. It has had the ill manners to rob me of your eye ever since we stood here, and I have had little token that the other senses were not in its company. Andre, has your friend never a ladye-love in these wilds, you could tell us of? _Mor_. He is sworn to secresy. Did you mark that glance? _Mait_. Love! I hold it a pretty theme for the ballad-makers, Colonel Hill; but for myself, I have scarce time for rhyming just now. Captain Andre, here are papers for you. [_He walks away, descending the road_. _Col. Hill_. So! So! What ails the boy? (_Looking after him for a moment, and then ascending the hill_.) _Andre_. (_Reading_.) Humph! Here's prose enough! Will you walk up the hill with me, Mortimer? I must cross the river again. _Mait_. First let me seek this horse of mine,--the rogue must have strayed down this path, I think. (_He enters the wood_.) (_Andre walks to and fro with an impatient air, then pauses_.) _Andre_. Well, I can wait no longer for this loiterer. [_Exit_. (_Mortimer re-enters, calling from the woods_.) _Mor_. Andre! Maitland! Colonel Hill! Good Heavens! Where the devil are they all? Maitland! (_Maitland appears, slowly ascending the road_.) _Mor_. For the love of Heaven,--come here. _Mail_. Nay.--but what is it? _Mor_. For God's sake, come, * * * * * DIALOGUE II. SCENE. _A little glen, darkly shaded with pines. A fountain issuing from one side, and falling with a curious murmur into the basin below_. (_Mortimer and Maitland enter_.) _Mor_. This is the place!--Well, if hallucinations like this can visit mortal eyes, I'll ne'er trust mine again. 'Tis the spot, I'm sure of it,--the place, too, that Andre was raving about just now.--The fairies' drawing-room,--palace rather,--look at these graceful shafts, Maitland,--and fairies' work, it must have been in good earnest. _Mait_. If it's to admire this clump of pine trees you have brought me hither, allow me to say you might have spared yourself that trouble. I have seen the place already, as often as I care to. _Mor_. Come this way a little,--yes, it was just above there that I stood,--it must have been.