Come, we'll go in--It's very late. Strange that Sir George should
not be here ere this.
_Maid_. Look, my lady! Here's some one at the gate.
(_An officer enters the little court, with a hasty step_.)
_Officer_. Good evening to your ladyship.--Is Captain Maitland
here?--Sir George told me that he left him here.
_Lady A_. Ay, but he has been gone this hour. Stay, it is Andre's flute
you hear below there, and some one has joined him just now--yes, it is
he.
_Off_. Under that tree;--thank you, my lady.
_Lady A_. Stay, Colonel Hill,--I beg your pardon, but you spoke so
hastily.--This young Maitland is a friend of ours, I trust there is
nothing that concerns him painfully.--
_Off_. Oh nothing, nothing, except that he is ordered off to Fort Ann
to-night. There are none of us that know these wild routes as well as he.
[_Exit_.
_Lady A_. Good Heavens! What noise is that?
_Maid_. Lord 'a mercy! The battle is coming?
_Lady A_. Hush! (_To a sentinel who goes whistling by_.) Sirrah, what
noise is that?
_Sentinel_. It's these Indians, my lady; they have found the son of some
chief of theirs murdered in these woods, and they are bringing him to
the camp now.
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