_Helen_. Hear me, mother. A message from the British camp came to me
last night,--
_Mrs. G_. The British camp?--Ha!--ha! Everard Maitland! God forgive him.
_Helen_. Do not speak thus. It was but a few cold and careless lines he
sent me,--my purpose is my own.
_Mrs. G_. And--what, and he does not know?--Helen Grey, this passes
patience.
_Helen_. He does, Here is the answer that has just now come; for I have
promised to meet him to-day at the hut of the missionary in yonder
woods.--I can hardly spell these hasty words; but this I know, he will
surely come for me,--though he bids me wait until I hear his signal,--so
I cannot go with you, mother.
_Mrs. G_. Where will you go, Helen?
_Helen_. Everard is in yonder camp;--where should the wife's home be?
_Mrs. G_. The wife's?
_Helen_. These two years I have been his bride;--his wedded wife I shall
be to-day. Yonder dawns my bridal day.
_George_. What does she say? What does Helen say? I do not understand
one word of it.
_Mrs. G_. She says she will go to the British camp. Desertions thicken
upon us. Hark!--they are calling us.
_George_. To the British camp?
_Mrs.
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