Ros. Now, shame on you, master soldier! was this taught you by the wars?

L'C. Yes, saluting is one of the first lessons in a soldier's trade.

Ros. Hey, keep your hands off-you have taught me enough of the manual exercise already; but say, now, were you indeed so great a hero as you told my lady?

L'C. Pshaw! I didn't tell her half, my modesty forbade ; but for thee, my pretty Rosabelle

Ros. Ay, with me, I'm certain your modesty will be no obstacle.

L'C. None, for while I gaze upon the face of an angel, the old scratch himself can't put me out of countenance.

(Exeunt.)

Scene 3.-A Wood, stage dark, thunder and lightning.

(Enter Longueville and Bertrand, the latter masked.) Long. Come, sir, to your post! What? tremble! Bert. I do indeed; the storm is terrible.

Long. Where have you placed the bravoes?

Bert. Hard by just where the horse-road sinks into a hollow

Long. Hush! a footstep! who passes there?

(Enter Sanguine.)

Sanguine. Sanguine !

Long. Wherefore, and parted from your fellow?

Sang. I left him in the hollow. Just now, a horse without a rider, burst through the thicket; the very same young Florian rode, when we dogged him from the inn.

Bert. Merciful God! thou hast preserved him!

Long. Villain! you may find your transports premature! Quick! bestow yourselves on either side!

Bert. (Catching his arm.) Yet, my lord, reflect. Long. (Throwing him off.) Recollect your oath. Bert. (Desperately.) Yes, yes, it must be written on my memory in blood. (Exeunt.)

Scene 4.-A forest.

(Enter Florian.)

Florian. A plague upon all dark nights, foul ways, and runaway horses! A mettlesome madcap, to start at the lightning,

and plunge with me head over heels in the brushwood. In scrambling out of that thicket, I certainly turned wrong, and have missed my road. How to regain it? death! I could as soon compose an almanac, as find a clue to this puzzle. What if I exercise my lungs and call for help? Oh, there's scarcely a chance of being heard-well, 'tis my forlorn hope, and shall e'en have a trial. Holloa! holloa! holloa! (A whistle.) Huzzah! somebody whistles from the right! Kind lady fortune! (Another whistle.) Ha! answered from the left, too! Lucky fellow! where are you, my dear boys-where are you ? (A vivid flash of lightning displays the figure of a masked bravo, Sanguine, with an unsheathed poniard.) Ha! a man, armed and masked! Perhaps some ruffian ! 'sdeath! I am defenseless; my pistols were left in the saddle!

Sang. (Advancing.) Who called?

Flor. If I return no answer, in the darkness I may retreat (He creeps to the left.)

unseen.

Sang. Speak! where are you?

(Enter Lenoir, from the opposite side.)

Lenoir. Here! (Thunder.)

Flor. God! (He recedes and strikes his hand against a hollow tree.) Ha! a tree! (He glides into it, at the very instant the two bravoes meet.)

Sang. (Raising his poniard.) Die!

Len. Hold! 'tis I-your comrade!

Sang. Why did you not answer before?-Hark!

(Enter Bertrand.)

Bert. Hist! Sanguine! Lenoir !

Sang. Here! both of us.

Bert. Why did you whistle?

Sang. In answer to your call-you hallooed to us.

Sang. But now-a minute back.

Bert. I never spoke.

Sang. I'll swear I heard a voice-no doubt then but 'twasBert. From what quarter did the cry proceed?

Sang. I thought it sounded hereabouts; but the storm kept such a confounded patter

Bert. Well, let us take the left hand path; and if we hear the call repeated

Sang. Ay! our daggers meet all questions with a keen reply. (Exeunt.) Flor. (Coming from the tree.) Eternal Providence, what

have I heard? Murderers then are upon the watch for me! No, no-not for me; I never yet offended a human being. Ha! unless my eyes are cheated, a friendly light now peeps out through yonder coppice. (Looking out.) Perhaps some woodman's hut, with a fresh faggot just crackling on the hearth! Oh, for a seat in such a chimney corner. (Whistle.) I hear you, gentlemen; a pleasant ramble to you. Adieu-space be between us! Yours is a left-handed destiny-I'll seek mine to the right. (Exit.)

Scene 5.-A Cottage-a light burning.

(Enter Monica, on a crutch, and carrying a basket.) Mon. Praise to the virgin! my old limbs have reached their resting place at last. What a tempest! (Strikes against the door.) Ho! there--within-open quickly. (A female wildly drest, appears.)

Mon. Ah, my poor Silence! thou hast watched for me, I'll warrant. Well, well, if I shiver now, a cup of warm rhenish will soon make me glow again. (Exeunt into the cottage.)

(Enter Florian, running, and out of breath.)

Flor. I'm right, by all the household gods! 'twas no goblin of the fen that twinkled to deceive! Oh, blessings on this hospitable looking cot! but hold! just now I was on the point of shaking hands with a cut-throat; who knows, but here I may introduce myself upon visiting terms with his family? I'll reconnoiter. (Steps to the casement on tiptoe.) I protest, a vastly neat creditable sort of mansion! Ha! by all my hopes, a woman! Enough, here will I fix my tent. Whenever doubts and fears perplex a man, the form of woman strikes upon his troubled spirit like the rainbow stealing out of clouds--the type of beauty and the sign of hope! (He knocks.) She comes, she comes. (The female, on seeing Florian, recoils.-He catches her hand, and detains her.) My dear madam! no alarm, for heaven's sake! You have thieves in your neighborhood, but, upon my soul, I don't belong to their fraternity. No, madam, I have lost myself in the forest-the storm rages, and I entreat the hospitality of this roof for the remainder of the night! (The female surveys him with suspicion.) I fear 'tis my misfortune. to be disbelieved-nay, then, let my dress declare my character. (Opens his cloak.) Behold! I am a soldier! (The female shrieks, and darts away into the wood.)

(Calling.) Madam! my dear madam! only hear me, madam! She's gone! absolutely vanished! Certainly I must have changed my face, when I lost my road-no scarecrow could have terrified the poor woman more. What's to be done? If I follow her, I shall but increase her terrors, and my own difficulties. I'll enter the cottage, and wait her return. (Exit into the cottage.)

Scene 6.-The interior of the Cottage.

Flor. All solitary and silent-faith, my situation here is somewhat whimsical. Well, I'm left in undisturbed possession, and that's a title in law, if not in equity. (Takes off his cloak, and hangs it on a chair.) Yes, this shall be my barrack for the night.

(Enter Monica.)

Mon. There, my garments are changed

Flor. graces!

Ha! another woman! but old, by the mother of the

Mon. A stranger!

Flor. Not an impertinent one, I trust. One, who in the darkness of the storm, having missed his road, craves of your benevolence a shelter for the night. You shall be soon convinced I am no dangerous guest.

Mon. Nay, you have told me your necessity, and that's a sufficient claim to every comfort my little cabin can afford. Pray, sir, take a seat. Here, my good Silence! Ah, I do not see (Looking anxiously round.)

Flor. I am afraid, my good madam, you miss one of your family. It was my misfortune to drive a female out of your house at the moment I entered it. But not intentionally, I protest!

Mon. Ah, I comprehend-you wear the habit of a soldier, sir-and my poor Silence never can abide to look upon that dress.

Flor. Indeed? that's rather a singular antipathy for a fe-. male. May I inquire, is she a daughter of yours?

Mon. Not by blood, sir! she is the child of misfortune.You look fatigued, sir; let me recommend this flask of rhenish: pray drink, sir, 'twill do you good; it always does me good.

Flor. Madam, since you are so pressing-my best services to you! A very companionable sort of old gentlewoman, this.

(Aside.) I protest, madam, I feel myself interested for this unfortunate; is her history a secret?

Mon. Oh, not a secret, but quite a mystery.--Another draught of wine, sir.

Flor. Madam, you will pledge me.

tery.

And now for the mys

Mon. Well, sir, about sixteen years ago, there came a rumor to our village, of a wild woman, that had been caught in the woods. She was brought round the country as a show. Well, sir, this wild woman was the very creature you beheld but now. She was in truth a piteous object. Yet there was a something so noble and so gentle in her air, that my curiosity was lost at once in pity. My heart swelled to see the gracious image of our Maker so degraded. My tears started. Would you believe it, sir? the poor desolate statue felt the trickling drops. She cast herself at my feet, and cried out, "Angel of compassion! save me from disgrace!" I raised the forlorn one to my arms; her keepers yielded their claims to my entreaties. I led the unfortunate to my dwelling, and I love her with the affection of a real parent.

Flor. By heavens! I reverence your feelings! In truth, 'tis a melancholy story.

Mon. Yes, sir! and melancholy stories make people dry; so let me recommend another cup of wine!

Flor. Madam! I can't refuse the challenge.-(Aside.) The old lady certainly designs to send me under the table. But pray, madam, have you never discovered the cause of her distress?

Mon. Never. I do not even know her name, but call her Silence, because her voice is heard so rarely. The thick woods about, I fear, remind her too much of her former wild way of life. Sometimes she wanders in them half the night.

Flor. Are you not fearful of her safety? These woods are full of danger; within this half hour, I myself have encountered three ruffians, lurking for their prey.

Blessed Mary, save
Poverty is the mother

Mon. Ruffians! young gentleman? us! Well, well, I fear not for my child. of ills, but her offspring generally respect each other. sir, finish the flask. (Rises.)

Come,

Flor. Kind hostess! I am bounden to you ever! (Rises, and fills his glass.) Here's woman, admired when we are happy, but in our adversity, adored. (Drinks.)