That's the mourning they make.
_Lady A_. The Lord protect us!
(_They enter the house_.)
* * * * *
DIALOGUE V.
SCENE. _The interior of a tent. Maitland, in travelling equipments,
pacing the floor_.
_Maitland_. William! Ho there!
_Servant_. (_Looking in_.) Your honor?
_Mait_. Is not that horse ready yet?
_Ser't_. Presently, your honor.
[_Exit_.
_Mait_. So the fellow has been here, it seems, and returned again to
Fort Edward without seeing me. Of course, my lady deigns no answer.--An
answer! Well, I thought I expected none. Ten minutes ago I should have
sworn I expected none. Why, by this time that letter of mine has gone
the rounds of the garrison, no doubt. William!
(_The servant enters_.)
Bring that horse round, you rascal,--must I be under your orders too,
forsooth?
_Ser't_. Certainly, your honor,--but if he could but just,--I am
a-going, Sir,--but if he could but just take a mouthful or two more.
There's never a baiting-place till--
_Mait_.
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