_Andre_. Ha! you have been in this wilderness then, ere now?
_Mait_. Have you forgotten the fortune I wasted once on a summer's seat,
some few miles up, on the lake above? These Yankees did me the grace to
burn it, just as the war broke out.
_Andre_. Ay, ay, that was _here_. I had forgotten the whereabouts. Those
blackened ruins we passed last evening, perchance;--and the lady--my
wood-nymph, what of her?
_Mait_. Captain Andre, I beg your pardon, Sir. That sketch of yours
reminded me, by chance perhaps, of one with whom some painful passages
of my life are linked; and I said, in my haste, what were better left
unsaid. Do me the favor not to remind me that I have done so.
_Andre_. So--so! And I am to know nothing more of this smiling
apparition; nay, not so much as to speak her name? Consider, Maitland, I
am your friend it is true; but, prithee, consider the human in me. Give
her a local habitation, or at least a name.
_Mait_. I have told you already that the lady you speak of resides not
far hence. On the border of these woods you may see her home. I may
point it out to you securely, some few days hence;--to-night, unless you
would find yourself in the midst of the American army, this must content
you.
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