D’A. As God loves goodness in the human heart—as manhood admires the noble, unselfish woman, though her covering be undeserving rags—as the heart plays captive to the most generous impulses of nature—as the honor of a soldier reaches out to grasp its ideal, so do I offer my tribute of love. Zina, all these dreams of the future die with me when the sun rises over the eastern hills. Go out from here. Avoid the guard. Find the money, and fly with my mother, where you can be free. Save my mother from want, and I am content. Waste no time, or you too may be lost. ZINA. Oh I cannot be so cowardly as to leave you now! (_Rising._) D’A. Why did you come here, where there is nothing but danger? ZINA. (_Pointing to Hez. and Barney._) To save _these_ who have been so good and kind to me. When my master had turned me away to starve, _these_ men gave me their own food and blankets when the storm was cold and pitiless. (_Shot R. Zina goes to R. door to listen._) D’A. (_To Hez. and Bar._) My hand, good fellows. One often sees that to admire in an enemy. (_Shake all, Hez. grudgingly. Zina looks around the room and discovers the carbines, places them on the box._) BARNEY. When I was first lookin’ at ye, didn’t I be knowin’ ye was no blackguard. D’A. When the other world begins to lift its shadows to light us to the other side, the animosities of this life should be forgotten. HEZEKIAH. (_To D’A._) Give me your hand again. I allus said I’d never shake with a rebel, but I’ll take it all back. D’A. Zina, before I die, there is a secret in your history the excitement of the hour had well nigh caused me to forget. It came to me by accident. You were not born a slave! Z. Then who am I? D’A. A lost child of the Halcoms! ZINA. (_Falling on her knees and covering her face._) My brave, noble brother! D’A. While confined, previous to my trial, I overheard conversation between Brightly and one of his ruffian comrades, detailing your history and a plan for your destruction. The reason—slavery is abrogated, and you are one of the Halcoms. Seventeen years since, Brightly was the leader of a band of Regulators, raised to protect the planters from the abolitionists, who were running off their help. I was a member of that company, though a mere boy. An old political grudge had existed between Brightly and your father for many years. On a dark December night, backed by a crowd of selected desperadoes, he murdered your father when he was without means of defence, outraged and killed your mother,—then fired the house. ZINA. (_Shuddering._) My poor mother! (_Sobbing._)