WINTER ROUELLE: 
 
 I ^ ^ 
 
 % § r a m a , 
 
 IN F I V K ACTS. 
 
 .utereil ui;coiiiliig to aut ol lluugit-ss, lu lUu year lot>4. t)> HkNHV ALBERT \\ HITnkV , 
 in the Clerk's Uffioe of the United States District Court uf the Southern District of New York. 
 
 NEW YORK: 
 
 FRENCH & WHEAT, STEAM PKlNTERS, No. 18 AN^ STREET. 
 
 IWl. 
 
 e< <. 
 
 
THIS WORK 
 
 Is Respectfially Dedicated, to 
 
 *^iclurm0 Clark, Csjcj., 
 
 THE AUTHOR S FllIEND. 
 
 New York, August, 1864. 
 
PERSONS EEPEESENTED. 
 
 Winter Rouelle, 
 Ealph Claybeook, 
 Walter Barclay. 
 Claude Hamilton. 
 Adam Goodman. 
 Roger Delman. 
 josiah ruster. 
 Timothy Balsam. 
 
 Marion Hamilton. 
 
 Mrs. Barclay. 
 
 Nellie Barclay. 
 
 Dinah. 
 
 John. 
 
 Officer. 
 
 Sergeant. 
 
/ 
 
 WINTER ROUELLE: 
 
 % Bxnmn, 
 
 IlSr FIVE ACTS. 
 
 Entered according to act of Congreas, in the year 1864, by Henry Albert Whitney, 
 in the Clerk's Office of the United States District Coi^rt of the Southern District of New York. 
 
 ^ 
 
 lA 
 
 NEW YORK: 
 
 FRENCH & WHEAT, STEAM PHINTERS, No. 18 ANN STREET. 
 
 1864. 
 

 
 <b\ 
 
WINTER ROUELLE. 
 
 ACT I. 
 
 SCENE I. — Near the banks of the Upper Potmuic, on the Maryland side. 
 * A lawn; Nortkwood Hall in the distance Marion Hamilton, while 
 
 following a lonely path, suddenly pauses, and her eye becomes fixed on the 
 
 ground before her. 
 
 Enter Adam Goodman, ivith gun and game. 
 
 Good [^Singing'] Oh, listen to the whippoorwill 
 Under the greenwood tree, 
 Singing so dolefully — 
 Heigho ! here's Marion. 
 Mar Ah, 'tis Goodman; and pray, whither hast thou been, dear 
 Adam? 
 
 Good My ways. Miss Marion, has heensome'at divers, since parting 
 with you. You see, I started up this gay fowl on the banks o' the 
 Potomac yonder, and when I winged him, the pesky bird was obligin' 
 enough to fall into the stream, near the shore. I jest waded in for't, 
 Avhen whiz, whiz, came a dozen Rebel bullets from the enemy's 
 pickets, on the other side. 
 
 3Iar I wish you were less venturesome, dear Adam. 
 Good Wal, Marion, I suppose I'd ought to be, and 'specially so 
 since your brother Claude and Walter Barclay are off to b ittle for 
 the stars and stripes, leaving you alone here at the Hall, under my 
 protection. 
 
 Mar I have been thinking of them whilst I walked here on the lawn. 
 Good I thought you looked abstracted like, as I came up. 
 3Iar I know not why, Adam, but my mind is o'ershadowed with 
 dark forebodings. 
 
 Good Sha,ke 'em off, Marion, and look on the bright side o' things, 
 is my advice to you. I know how 'tis : Dame Nature's in her twi- 
 light robes, and your heart, in sympathy with her, has got a shadow 
 on it. 
 
 Mar Perhaps 'tis even so, Goodman. 
 
 Methought, as I stood here not long ago, and viewed 
 
 The bright orb of day as it approached the horizon. 
 
 That 'twas the semblance of my destiny ; the sun, my hopes. 
 
4 WINTER ROTJELLE. 
 
 At morn of life how radiant ; for love and happiness 
 Then dwelt beneath our roof; 
 
 Alas ! not many happy hours had flown on golden wings, 
 When blackest clouds obscured the hrightness of my dreams. 
 My parents died — oh, how drear and dark the sky. 
 And yet, the mists were fled anon, and hope beamed forth anew. 
 I thought it would not change ; but how vain the dream : 
 For now, the cloud of war divides me from the noble souls Hove. 
 Here I stood, Adam, enraptured with the fading glory of the day, 
 But as the huge disc sank behind the golden-crested hills, 
 All gladness died within me. 
 
 I thought my fallen hope was doomed to rise again no more. 
 Good Cheer up, Marion, cheer up. By Jupiter, though, these chill 
 autumnal nights do give one the damps. 
 Mar With saddened mind, I turned away. 
 
 And was rapidly returning to the Hall ; • 
 
 When, dread thought, as I reached this spot, 
 A loathsome viper seemed to coil itself before me. 
 And strike its poisonous fangs against my heart. 
 Good Ah. that was the thing you seemed intently gazin' at, as I 
 saw ye from the varge o' yonder woods. Wal, Marion, whenever ye 
 comes across the real critter, jest show me his pesky head, and I'm 
 the one that'll twist it off instanter. But hark ! what's this ? 
 Mar 'Tis the clatter of hoofs. 
 
 Good Yas. sartin sure ; there's a ho'sman comin' hither from the 
 south'ard. Perhaps he's from camp, for he's dressed in war clothes. 
 See, he's dismountin' at the barn, and tethedn' his hos. Now he 
 comes up the lawn. Wal, I'll put my gun away, and be back here 
 soon. [Exit. 
 
 Enter Captain Claybeook. 
 
 Claybrook I have the honor to address the heiress of Northwood 
 Hall, Miss Hamilton, do I not ? 
 
 Mar It is my name, sir. 
 
 Clay Then, although I am a stranger to yourself, I may presume 
 to speak familiarly. I was your lamented father's classmate, when 
 at college, and, it gives me pleasure to say, ever was his warmest 
 friend. The name of Ralph Claybrook cannot, therefore, be unknown 
 to you. 
 
 Mar My memory fails to recall it to mind ; but this, sir, must not 
 withhold you a cheerful welcome to the Hall. I must plead my 
 sorrowful history in excuse. Doubtless, sir, you are aware that I 
 lost my parents when very young ? 
 
 Clay I am ; and even now my eye grows tearful, as I think of 
 your great misfortune. 
 
 Mar When you approached me, sir, as I wandered here upon the 
 lawn, my heart, like the gardens yonder, which lately bloomed with 
 fairest flowers, was desolate indeed. 
 
 Clay I regret to see these signs of our unfortunate war. In this 
 locality, sad to say, Death now seems to be the only harvester. 
 
WINTER ROUBLLE. , O 
 
 Mar Yes, sir, it is true. Alas, ruin seemed to descend upon the 
 grounds coeval v.^ith the departure of dear Claude, my brother, who 
 is commissioned in the Union Army. Perhaps, sir, you have chanced 
 to meet with him, for I perceive that the army is represented in 
 yourself ? 
 
 Clay I have ; and it was ray s^ood fortune to join the Seventh 
 Cavalry with Claude and Walter Barclay. Both have become my 
 warmest friends, and reposed unlimited confidence in me, 
 
 Mai Why, this indeed is fortunate. What tidings bring you from 
 them ? They are not ill ? You seem dejected, sir. 
 
 Clay Alas, that the task should be mine to renew thy sorrow. 
 
 Mar Do not hesitate, I pray you, sir ; tell me the worst. And 
 yet, how can I hear that fearful word ? But no, they are not — are 
 not dead ? 
 
 Clay Dear lady, be not thus overcome. There is still great reason 
 to hope for their safety, as you shall see. Last Monday night, 
 Claude and Walter, attended by a few brave men, crossed the Rebel 
 lines on a reconnoissance. Becoming separated, they soon lost track 
 of one another. While endeavoring to rejoin your brother, Walter 
 was discovered by the enemy, and retreating to the river, in he 
 plunged, amid a shower of bullets. But his life seemed to be 
 charmed, and though badly injured by a single shot, he gained the 
 Maryland shore, and reaching camp, now lies there fast recovering. 
 
 Mar Heiven be praised. And my brother also escaped ? 
 
 Clay It is not impossible ; but his fate is still uncertain. Be not 
 alarmed, however ; for no sooner had darkness come than three 
 trusty men disguised themselves as rebels, and hastened to his 
 rescue. As they have not returned, it is surmised at camp that 
 Claude may have been captured, and the men, having discovered his 
 whereabouts, are now effecting his release. 
 
 Mar Is this my only hope ? Oh, tell me, sir, what can I do to 
 save him ? 
 
 Clay You can do nothing, Marion ; only wait, trusting in Provi- 
 dence. Believe me, no plan of rescue, that friendship could devise, 
 has been left untried by his devoted and now unhappy conirades. ' 
 
 Mar Alas, my heart is stricken by this cruel blow — woe is me. 
 
 SCENE 11.—^ drawing-room in Northwood Hall. Marion, beside a win- 
 dow, weeping. Claybrook, apart from her, viewing two portraits; one 
 of a gentleman, the other a lady. Betrays emotion as he views the first. 
 
 Clay [Aside, turning towards the other. '\ 
 
 Oh, how I loved thee, Maud ! In thee I lived. 
 My inmost soul, all my desires, by no other impulse moved, 
 And yet you sliglited me ! Again that hour of agony returns. 
 Oh, the wound was deep and struck too near my heart 
 To let my vengeful soul e'er couatenance the smart. 
 
6 WINTER ROTJELLE. 
 
 But I concealed my misery, plotting in the night 
 To turn thy pride to anguish, and thus find my delight. 
 Time hath wrought its changes and bowed thy head, 
 While the sun on my fortune doth a brighter radiance shed. 
 Then, you sowed the wind and I was driven with the dust, 
 Now, thro' me, your Claude has reaped the whirlwind, as yon- 
 der fair one must. 
 And triumph is mine, without resort to skill, 
 For the way lies open and settled is my will, 
 
 Marion approaches. 
 
 But soft, I hear her step. [Again viewing the first portrait. 
 
 This is a portrait of your father, I perceive 
 
 Mar It is, sir. It was taken only a short time previous to his 
 death. 
 
 Clay And the other ? 
 
 Mar It represents my mother. I infer that you were not acquaint- 
 ed with her. 
 
 Clcnj No, Marion, I was not. I was called to Europe soon after 
 leaving college, and it was my misfortune ncA'er to meet your father 
 again. However, his frequent letters to me served to continue our 
 friendship, and I thus learnt of his marriage. He must have loved 
 your mother dearly. 
 
 3Iar Most fondly, sir, and I oft delight to recall the pleasant 
 scenes that my childhood witnessed. Nothing seemed wanting to 
 perfect our happiness. At times, however, the deepest melancholy 
 would fall upon my mother's mind. Alas, we knew not why. 
 
 Clay Did this affect your father's cheerful temper ? 
 
 Mar It rather claimed his sympathy. He then was wont to clasp 
 his arms around her neck and gentlj- chide away her sorrow. 
 
 Clay His heart was ever pained to view anotiier's grief, e'en 
 though its cause w^eie unknown to him ! 1 was ever sure to find re- 
 lief from trouble when Geoffry Ham.ilton Avas near me ! 
 
 Mar Poor father ! how I have mourned for thee ! Alas, sir, his 
 death was untimely. 
 
 Clay I was not then deceived ; he died by an assassin's hand ? 
 
 Mar Yes, he fell whilst passing through the forest near. I then 
 was but a child, but my sorrow was as keen and deep as that my 
 mother knew ; alas, she yielded to it, and followed him soon after. 
 
 Clay This, indeed, is pitiful. Truly, misfortunes have not come 
 singly upon you. But pardon me ; I have thoughtlessly harrowed 
 your fine sensibilities. Look forward, I pray you, to a happier 
 future. 
 
 Mar I try to be hopeful, sir, though my life seems wed to sorrow. 
 Yet, I will not now obtrude my grief, when my father's friend may 
 rightly claim a better entertainment. [Exit Marion. 
 
 Clay Oh, lovely innocence, there goest thou ! 
 How sad to pluck so fair a flower 
 Whilst drooping 'neath the dews of sorrow. 
 Shall I forbear ? 
 
WlNtER ROtlELLfi. 7 
 
 My wounded heart cries, no, press on, 
 Though all the angels on nic frown, 
 And time presses. 
 
 Then hie me to the trysting-place on yonder mount, 
 And meeting: Roger Delman, learn of the fate of Claude. 
 If he be dead, and this I do not doubt, 
 I will be here again within the hour. 
 And fetters forge for Marion. 
 At midnight, Goodman shall die ! 
 Enter Marion. 
 Mar I have directed Goodman to stable your horse. Captain Clay- 
 brook, and prepared refreshments for yourself ; and again I bid you 
 welcome here. 
 
 Clay I thank you for your kindness, but do protest ; I supped 
 while on the way. However, as 'tis now so late. I will accept your 
 further hospitalities and remain till morn. My steed, I know, needs 
 rest. You are attended, I perceive, by faithful servants. 
 
 Mar At the present time, I have but one; and he, lean justly 
 say. is rightly named 
 Clay Goodman, I think you called him. 
 
 Enter Goodman. 
 
 Good At yer sarvice, Cap'n. I've come to tell ye that yer hos is 
 in his crib, with as good a bait before him as ever beast sot grinders 
 to. He's a right smart hos, with a power o' strength an' good la a 
 cal'vry charge, I reckon. 
 
 Clay True, Adam, his points are good. 
 
 Good Air ye goin' to stay here hmg, Cap'n ? 
 
 Mar You forget your customary manners, Goodman. 
 
 Good Wal, I was thinkin' 'twas about time to l<)ck up the shanty 
 for the night, else 'taint safe here, you know. 
 
 Clay I am reminded that I must further prey upon your kindness, 
 Miss Hamilton. An important duty calls me out this evening. — 
 Barratier, our colonel, desired me to convey a message to the sol- 
 diers st.ntioned just above here, near the river's banks. Therefore, 
 if my departure and return will not disturb your household rules, 
 I'll leave you for awhile. 
 
 Good Shall you want your hos, Cap'n ? 
 
 Clay No, Goodman, I have not far to go. [To Marion.] I pre- 
 sume you will have gone to rest ere I return. May you slumber in 
 peace, and, forgetful of your troubles, think of the happiness which 
 I doubt not is in store for you. Good night. 
 
 3Iar Good night. [Exit Claybrook. 
 
 Good Tell ye what, Maiion, I've been thinkin' on what you told 
 me about Claude and Walter, when we met outside, and it strikes 
 my eye that things looks suspicious. 
 
 Mar Suspicions ! In what respect, Adam ? 
 
 Good Why, if this Cap'n is really an old triend o' the family, and 
 has met Claude at camp, the question as rises is, wouldn't your 
 brother have spoken on't it in bis letters ? 
 
 Mar True, Adam ; I had not thought of this. 
 
8 WINTER ROUEtLE. 
 
 Good And more'n that. Marion, I don't like his phiz. I watched 
 him close, and saw a settled look o' devilment in that black eye o' 
 his'n. 
 
 Mar Oh, do not judge him so severel5^ Goodman. His deeds have 
 presaged the kindness of his heart, and I think him worthy of my 
 confidence. 
 
 Good There, that's jest like ye, Marion. You think everybody's 
 as innocent as you he, jest because they looks like gentlemen and 
 can talk good English. 
 
 Mar In every bush we find not thorns. 
 
 Good Nor every bull doth carry horns. Nevertheless, it's always 
 best to receive the professions o' strangers with a due amount o' 
 caution, and 'specially so in these most troublous times'. Now, mark 
 me, Marion ; beware of this pretended friend ; watch him closely. 
 Yet have no fears of him whilst I am near you ; for my promise to 
 your mother is remembered yet ; I will protect you, and palsied be 
 that arm that lifts itself againt thee ! Good night. 
 
 Mar Good night. [Exit Goodman. 
 
 SCENE III. — A room at Woodlawn Cottage, where Mrs. Barclay and 
 Nellie, her daughter, are discovered. 
 
 Mrs. Barclay I think, Nellie, that Claude and Walter must have 
 been in action lately ; else, ere now, another line were here. Nearly 
 a week has passed since this letter was received. 
 
 Nellie Only a week, mother ; to me it seems an age. Oh dear, 
 how the time drags on ; and not only this, but I see no signs of a 
 change for the better. 
 
 Mrs. B. Speak not of this, my child, but try and be cheerful, 
 looking forward to that happy moment when our national peace may 
 be restored, and with it our loved ones. 
 
 Nellie I am the easier persuaded to wlien I think of the situation 
 of dear Marion. It must be so lonesome there, at the Hall, even 
 though its gloomy shades be lighted by the presence of the ever 
 cheerful Goodman. 
 
 Mrs. B. It cannot be otherwise, and she ought not to persist in 
 remaining there, for we have often urged her to come and live with 
 us at Woodlawn 
 
 Nellie Yes, mother, and then the singular girl gravely proceeds to 
 enumerate the various means of entertainment, for a young lady, 
 that the Hall can boast. Music, books and picture- clad walls ; a 
 fickle argument, I tell her, for these are not wanting here. 
 
 3Irs. B. I think that we had better visit her to-morrow, and, by 
 gentle means, enforce obedience, for there is danger in the place. 
 True, Adam is courageous, but I fear that he might prove unequal 
 if numbers should assail ; whereas, with us, who have William, 
 John, and last, but by no means least, the ever loyal Caesar for our 
 allies, the case is quite different. 
 
WINTER ROUEtLE. 9 
 
 Nellie By his barking, the last-named of our brave defenders would 
 seem, even now, to announce the approach of some benighted wan- 
 derer or lurking foe. Far down the lawn, near the wood?, I can 
 just discern an approaching horseman. A friend, too, it must be, 
 or Cgesar, who has reached there, would fail to give that joyous 
 welcome. ' 
 
 Mrs. B. Why, 'tis Walter, Nellie ; he alights and approaches. 
 
 Nellie And Claude not with him ? 
 
 Enter Walter Barclay. 
 
 Oh, brave and dearest of brothers, how joyed am I at this surprise. 
 Walter This, dear Nellie, shall be tlie token of my pleasure. 
 Mother dear, a ki-s. This is happiness indeed. 
 
 Nellie Then wherefore are thy looks so sad, dear brother ? 
 Wal Alas, I feel so. 
 IS ellie Walter. I fear that Claude is — 
 
 Mrs. B. Ob, Walter, you have been injured : this frightful wound. 
 Wal Be calm, mother, it is not serious ; in fact, 'tis a mere bruise, 
 which has already received the kind attention of our surgeon, whose 
 extreme caution has alone kept me confined at camp, when I other- 
 wise should have been active. Not till this afternoon could I succeed 
 in escaping his vigilance, and obtaining a furlough, hasten hither in 
 Ipss pain of body than of mind. I will tell you all. Crossing the 
 river last Monday night, with a few tried men, Claude and myself 
 being in command, we encountered, near theriver, superior numbers 
 of the enemy, and in the brisk skirmish which ensued, though the 
 ground was disputed inch by inch, we were overpowered. All hearts 
 were true to the colors which we bore. I cannot say more. Alas, 
 that I should live to say that I alone escaped ! 
 
 Nellie Oh, Claude ! and shall we never meet again ? 
 Wal If he be gone, Nellie, his death was glorious. 
 Mrs. B. Alas ! and is this thy glory, war ? 
 
 Oh, thy Isutre dims with the salt tears shed 
 In memory of the fallen brave. 
 
 Oh, thou hast spread more sorrow through the land, 
 More fond hearts doomed to life-long pilgrimage. 
 Than can e'er be chronicled. 
 Poor Claude. 
 Walter Do not despair, but be hopeful still, 
 
 For Claude, not slain, may only have been captured. 
 Acting on this belief, Colonel Barratier, 
 Adopting the advice of Claybrook, our senior captain, 
 Has despatched one Roger Delman, 
 With a pair as true as he, 
 Across the river to his rescue. 
 Nellie And have they not returned ? 
 Walter No, and on this ground rests our hope. 
 Nellie Oh, would that I were with thee, Claude. 
 Walter Your words reproach me, Nellie. 
 
10 
 
 ^INl'ER ROtJEtLE. 
 
 Oh, coward that I am ! Why am I here ? 
 Nellie Brother, no, you wrong yourself, 
 
 For thy wounds have kept thee 
 
 From stern duty's call. 
 Walter Alas, a heavier task awaits me, 
 
 For I must see dear Marion to-night. 
 
 And unfold the dreadful truth to her. 
 
 Poor girl ; I pity thee ! 
 Mrs. B. No, not to-night, Walter ; 
 
 The hour is late, and in the lonesome wood 
 
 Which lies 'twixt here and Northwood Hall, 
 
 'Tis dangerous to pass alone. 
 Waiter Danger ! Mother, thy words are daggers to me, 
 
 For they call me, as indeed I am, timorous. 
 Nellie But these scars, dear Walter, 
 
 This sword, these epaulettes, won by thy bravery alone, 
 
 The implied charge deny. 
 
 Then tarry here to-night, brother, 
 
 For Marion ere now has gone to rest ; 
 
 Then, at dawn, we'll hasten there together, 
 
 And rehearse what you have told. 
 
 Sad task. 
 Walter If you will it so, I must obey. 
 Mrs. B. Come with us, Walter, 
 
 To the dining-room, and refresh yourself. ' 
 
 Waller I'll follow, mother ; Nellie, come. 
 
 .SCENE IV. — A thickly wooded mountain, near the Potomac, 
 ground, a cave. The light obscure. 
 
 Enter Claybrook. 
 
 In the hack- 
 
 Clay Ha, a place most fit for scheming ; 
 
 Lonesome, dark, and still. No, the gloomy owl above me, 
 Screeching his discontent, e'en now doth wing his heavy 
 
 flight, ' 
 Which yon gaping cliff resounds. 
 But hist! Ha! Delman ? 
 
 Enter Eggeb Delman. 
 Del He. 
 Clay Alone ? 
 Del No other. 
 Clay Grood Eoger, thou'rt welcome. 
 
 What progress hast thou made ? 
 
 But hold ; my caution bids thee stay, 
 
WINTER ROUBLLE. 11 
 
 Enters the Cave. 
 
 For other than the dull ear of night 
 
 May give audience to our speech. 
 Del A little over cautious, Captain, 
 
 For of Eve's children, save us. 
 
 Who d\ye think could find his way 
 
 To this dark hole ? 
 Clay True, true, Ko^er. 
 
 Then be it as it may ; 
 
 So tell me, what has been done ? 
 Del With whom ? 
 
 The saplinc: hath been stricken ; 
 
 The clouds have wept tears ; 
 
 For whom ? 
 Clay To the point, sirrah. No dallying ! 
 
 I speak of Claude Hamilton. 
 Del In faith, thou'rt quick to-night, Captain ; 
 
 But list ; he no longer lives 
 
 His body, riddled by a dozen bullets, 
 
 Now lies beneath the sod ! 
 Clay Ha ! Speak ye the truth, Delman ? 
 
 Dead ! So soon anchored in eternity ? 
 
 But tell me ; how was it brought about ? 
 Del In this wise. Captain : 
 
 Disguised as rebels, which we are in heart. 
 
 The stripes and stars upholding, but the bars adoring, 
 
 My companions and I, on Monday night, 
 
 Soon reached the rebel camp. 
 
 Your letter to Colonel Trellon our errand soon made known, 
 
 And imagine onr surprise to learn that Claude 
 
 Was even then a captive in his hands. 
 
 His fate was sealed ; and with my advice 
 
 He caused the execution yesternight. 
 day Your proof. 
 Del This— a letter for his sister ; * 
 
 'Twas penned by Claude an hour before his death ; 
 
 And here's the ring he sealed it with. 
 Clay 'Tis well ; I'll keep them for Marion, 
 
 Who, ere the lapse of forty hours, perforce or otherwise, 
 
 Becomes my wife. Hist ! what noise is this ? 
 
 Heard you that sound, Delman ? 
 Del Methinks, Captain, your too nice sense deceives you. 
 
 No, you're right ; but 'twas merely the quick start of some 
 unquiet bird. 
 
 Closely attend your ear and you still may hear its flight. 
 
 And is the girl as fair as Dame Rumor hath her pictured ? 
 Clay Aye, lovely as all excellence, 
 
 And fit for the consort of a royal Jove. 
 
 Her countenance is fair and bright with beauty's glory ; 
 
 An eye that beams with dreamy light 
 
12 WINTER ROUELLE. 
 
 And brings sweet tumults to the one it gazes on ; 
 
 Her cheeks are like the blushing rose, 
 
 But her lips find no comparison in ruby or vermilion. 
 
 Or teeth in pearls, or neck in alabaster ; 
 
 A voice that chimes rich music to the soul, 
 
 And would entrance the nightingale ; 
 
 A form where the gentle graces vied to outdo one another, 
 
 And have mingled divinity and charms ^ 
 
 With fairest substance. All this, a golden temple 
 
 On whose altar I anon shall lay this tender heart. 
 Del Time and war agreeing. 
 
 Clay And they do. But what said Colonel Trellon ? 
 Dei He assents, for the coup de main, 
 
 By you projected on the camp of Barratier, 
 
 Seemed feasible to him ; and in accordance with your plans, 
 
 To-morrow night he leads an overwhelming force 
 
 Upon the accursed Yankees. 
 Clay If the stratagem succeeds, Del man. 
 
 And doubt not that it will, then comes your reward. 
 
 For a Captain's commission shall be thine. 
 
 So serve me well. See, Thursday is to-morrow. 
 
 And at dawn meet me at North wood Hall — 
 
 It is yon gloomy mansion by the moonlight shown — 
 
 And there learn my commands ; 
 
 Be active, Koger, for there's work in hand, 
 Del Come what may, Captain, I'm ready for't ; 
 
 And trust me, nothing shall fail through my short-comings. 
 
 [JSzit Delman. 
 Clay All goes well. 
 
 Back then to Northwood Hall, 
 
 And devise a way to overthrow old Goodman, 
 
 So that, when morning comes, 
 
 There'll be no drawback to my art 
 
 In laying siege to Marion's heart. [Exit. 
 
 A muffled figure emerges from the cave. 
 
 « o c';« i:s « o Do I still live, or, dread thought, 
 
 Have I passsd death's portal, 
 
 And reached some awful mountain 
 
 In the realms of darkness and of rage. 
 
 Where damned ghosts keep holiday ? 
 
 I look o'er heaven's blue vault, and I am answered. 
 
 Then, 'tis thus : Charybdis' gulf I have escaped, 
 
 But now I'm fallen into Scylla. 
 
 Oh, what villainy is this! 
 
 Overcome with hardship, here I paused an hour ago, to rest ; 
 
 But now, I'm strong again ! 
 
 And here, by the pure heavens above me, 
 
 With reverence I swear to banish all repose 
 
 Till earth is purged of these infernal dregs. 
 
 But not to the Hall ; 'tis to Woodlawn first I'll speed ; 
 
 ' yis there I'll find a sword. [Exit. 
 
WINTER RODELLB. 13 
 
 SCENE V. — Midnight. A chamber in Norihwood Hall, where Goodman 
 is discovered in the rear, asleep. 
 
 Enter Claybrook, cautiously. 
 
 Clay [Standing over him] Asleep ! 
 
 Oh, fickle state of miserable man ; 
 
 For when, perchance, thou dream'st of love and glory, 
 
 A dagger rips out thy heart. 
 
 But I will spare thee, Goodman ; 
 
 For not thy life but liberty I fear : 
 
 Thus, then, I bar thy tongue and fetter thee. 
 
 [Gags and binds him. 
 Ha, subdued without a blow ; 'tis well. 
 Now Marion, fair child of beauty, 
 Thour't in my power — mine ; 
 Therefore, deal gently with me on the morrow, 
 Or thou art doomed to grief, to misery and woe. 
 
 [Exit Claybrook. 
 
 ACT II. 
 
 SCENE I.— ^ room in Narthwood Hall. 
 
 Enter Roger Delman. 
 
 Dd Claybrook ! Ha, not here. 
 
 But 'tis well ; for I'll the time improve 
 With a bumper from yon sideboard, 
 And prove my claims to a title I have won. 
 Sir Brandy Peach. Ha, it hath a flavor fine, 
 And smacks of age, as doth our fiery Captain. 
 But hold, he comes. 
 
 Enter Claybrook. 
 
 Clay Ah, good Roger, welcome, and receive my praise, 
 
 For thou art true to th' appointed hour. 
 
 So you've dropped the Confederate uniform, 
 
 Which you wore last night. 
 
 And donned the Federal shoddy. 
 
 Well thought of, Roger ; but say, 
 
 How goes it with you ? 
 Del Indeed, right smart am I, 
 
 And ripe for mischief, Captain. 
 Clay To our work, then, without delay. 
 
 Do you know Squire Ruster, Delman ? 
 
14 WINTER ROUELLE, 
 
 Del Blister ? Euster ? What, old Joe Kuster, 
 Who lives just eastward of the mount? 
 Ghy 'Tis the same— the same, 
 
 Save that his name's Josiah. 
 Del I know him, then ; and a queer old knave, too, is he. 
 Clay True, very true, Delman ; 
 
 He is a leech, and his quiet boring 
 Would exhaust a Christian's patience. 
 But how chancec you to meet with him ? 
 Del Oh, I've often been there to see his man. 
 Clay So much the better, Dehnan ; 
 This jibes well ; I need him also. 
 Now, hark ye : I want this twaddling Kuster 
 To make our lady mine. He's in my servics, 
 And I bid you see him privately this morning, 
 And engage his presence here 'gainst our return from camp. 
 Whither we both must speed when this is done, 
 To pave the way for Trellon's victory. 
 That over, we'll haste back here together. 
 And I being wed, will cross the river with my prize. 
 Here's for Ruster, and hark ye, 
 Tell him I'll brook no dallying. 
 Now for his man ; what can you say for him ? 
 Del For what purpose do you want him ? 
 Clay Why, to dog the steps of Marion Hamilton, 
 
 During our absence. 
 Del Then he's the man for you ; 
 
 He's cautious and trustworthy, and will do your bidding well. 
 Clay I look for more than this ; 
 
 Is he strong, hazardous and iron-hearted ? 
 Del Ay, sir, as bold and ugly as a savage. 
 And like an ox in strength. 
 He's stoutly built ; is deep in the chest 
 And measures two feet three 'twixt the shoulders. 
 He's odds for two ordinary men. 
 But suppose young Barclay should get a furlough, 
 And, while we're away, come over here to see the girl ; 
 What then ? 
 Clay There's nothing to be feared on that score ; 
 
 When I left camp, his wounds confined him to the hospital, 
 Which he could not leave for days, the surgeon told me. 
 The field is clear, Delman, and so you get the man, 
 All goes well. 
 Del I'm off then, Captain, and you shall see him soon. 
 
 [Exit Delman. 
 Clay Good luck betide your efforts — 
 
 List ! the sound of music falls on my ear. 
 
 Ah, 'tis Marion, within the drawing-room. 
 
 I'll hasten thither, and the truth disclose ; 
 
 And, mourning for her brother's death. 
 
 Soon turn her thoughts to love. [Exit. 
 
WINTER ROUELLE. ' 15 
 
 SCENE II. — A drawing-room. Matxioh seated at a piano. 
 
 Enter Claybrook. 
 Clay Good morning. 
 
 3far [Arising] Good morning, Captain Claybrook. 
 Clay I pray you, do not blame mc 
 For having thus disturbed you ; 
 For, hearing the plaintive melody of your voice, 
 I was, as it were, drawn hither without forethought ; 
 The music so accorded with the sorrow of ray heart. 
 I'd thank you, Marion, to repeat the ditty. 
 Mar It is one my mother often sung. 
 Clay [Looking at the portrait.] 
 
 How gentle, fair and beautiful, is she ; 
 The brow. I perceive, is slightly touched with sorrow. 
 Mar It was so in life. 
 
 And, in this, I feel that I resemble her. 
 Clay Perchance her gentle spirit hovers o'er us now, 
 
 And mourns your great afflictions. [Marion joZays the ditty. 
 Receive my heartfelt thanks. 
 For I feel much calmer in my mind, 
 And find the composure which I need 
 To tell you that your brother's fate, 
 No longer rests in doubt. 
 It is with intense grief of mind. 
 That I — be calm, I pray you, Marion. 
 Mar Alas, I cannot ; 
 
 My heart is fearful and oppressed. 
 Clay Would that I might relieve it, 
 
 But, unhappy fate, this cannot be ; 
 This letter, Marion ; 'tis from Claude. 
 Mar Oh, Heaven, spare me ; 
 
 I am distracted. Read it. 
 Clay [Reads.] " Dear Marion : I have fallen in the hands of the 
 enemy, and my fate is sealed. Oh, Marion, and is this the last, last 
 time that lean e'er address you? 'Tis hard ; but I am comforted 
 — I will meet death bravely. Adieu, adieu forever, Claude." 
 
 [Marion sinks upon a chair. 
 Clay Would, Marion, that I could mitigate thy sorrow. 
 Yet why should we be unduly sad ? 
 He has only gone before and met the lot of nature ; 
 Death. And why should it be feared ? 
 'Tis but the cold, the dreary boundary of life, 
 The goal we all attain. 
 [After a pause.] It is wrong, dear Marion, 
 Thus to call in question the providence of our Creator. 
 You should remember, too, that his soul's not dead. 
 But, now happy, lives in the eternal resting place 
 With the God who gave it. Would you call it back 
 To these abodes of infirmitv and sin ? 
 
i6 WiNTEft ROTTELtfi. 
 
 Eather let us look forwaid to the hour of reunion 
 
 With him, and those we've loved and lost. 
 Mar Oh, kind sir, my mind refuses consolation ; 
 
 It would have retirement. 
 Clay And in solitude it will be more miserable. 
 
 But I will leave you, for your pleasure is my duty. 
 
 \He turns away, and pauses. 
 
 [Aside.'] 'Tis a sorry time to play the lover ; 
 
 But the morn is fast waning, and I am needed elsewhere, 
 
 Then to it again, for, by the gods, 
 
 I will not go till I've declared my purposes, 
 
 How deep soe'er her grief ! 
 
 And I am goaded on : 'twas in these halls, 
 
 'Twas in this very room, I was repulsed by Maud ! 
 
 [To Marion.] Oh, Marion, there is a monitor withio 
 
 That bids me stay and comfort thee. 
 
 And yet, ' tis not the voice of sympathy, though great is mine. 
 
 But to me it seems like — love ! 
 Mar [Arising.] I do not penetrate your meaning, Captain Clay brook. 
 Clay 'Tis said Marion, that 'twixt heart and heatt. 
 
 There is communion in the hour of joy and gladness ; 
 
 'Tis thus in sorrow, save that the sympathy is more intense, 
 
 And now, it is this that draws my heart towards thine, 
 
 And, when I view your unprotected state. 
 
 Bids me proffer you my love ! 
 Mar Captain Claybrook, in this sad hour, perhaps, like myself, 
 
 You act and speak without calm reason's guidance. 
 
 Will you explain ? 
 Clay Oh, let the silent voice of thine own virtue tell thee. 
 
 For 'tis this that hath enslaved my heart. 
 
 Long have I wandered o'er the world and mingled 
 
 With the beauteous and the fair, my heart unmoved by all. 
 
 Here I came, and the light of thy exalted nature 
 
 Hath Inflamed my soul with a passion deep and true. 
 
 In vain I struggle with the yoke of mighty love, 
 
 And here, Marion, it bows me down before thee, praying for 
 thy pity. [He kneels. 
 
 Oh, let me live in serving thee ! 
 
 Do not doom me to despair ! 
 Mar Sir, I am amazed ! 
 
 With me, this is an hour of mourning. 
 Clay Deeper, oh, deeper, is my misery. 
 
 With me, Marion, it is an hour of anguish and of woe, 
 
 And see ! 'tis to your brother's memory, 
 
 These scalding tears now flow. [After a pause. 
 
 But I would have the vine of tove entwine itself around thy 
 grief. 
 
 And mingle flowers with the leaves of gloom and desolation. 
 Mar Monster ! do you mock my anguish ? 
 
 I win away from thee. 
 
WINTER ROUEtLK. 17 
 
 Clay No, by all that's good, ye shall not leave me thus. 
 
 My passion merits thine, and will not be denied. 
 Mar Unnatural being, thon, 
 
 Wliy thus do you torment me ? Why came ye here ? 
 Clay To sigh and woo, perchance ; if not, to be revenged ! 
 
 But listen and I'll tell thee why. 
 
 Long years ago there lived in Northwood Hall, 
 
 A girl of extreme loveliness — she seemed so innocent and true. 
 
 There were rivals for her hand ; both matched in fortune 
 and in name. 
 
 But one was of a daring, and the other, a gentler nature. 
 
 Her choice seemed given to the first, and he. poor fcol !— 
 
 Cursed love, 1 hate thee now ! —was mad, delirious with joy. 
 
 But, at last, in one mad hour, the faithless being broke the 
 sacred spell. 
 
 And dared to spurn him from her. 
 
 Ere long his rival led her to the altar and they were wed. 
 
 For this the wrontred one swore he'd lacerate her heart, 
 
 And pall the other's hopes in ruin and despair. 
 
 Then, however, to cover his deep laid designs 
 
 He feigned to humbly bear his fate, 
 
 And leaving them he sought a northern city. 
 
 Time passed on and still he thought of retribution, 
 
 And with delight he learnt that the marriage had proved 
 fruitful. 
 
 Now would the harvest greater be ! 
 Mar Oh, spare me, spare me, 
 
 I would not listen further. 
 
 Have mercy, I pray you. 
 Clay Mercy ! it doth not harbor in my soul. 
 
 My heart, like ore from the mine. 
 
 Once passed the crucible of woe and came forth steel. 
 
 And this, Marion, was the handiwork of thy mother. 
 Mar Of my mother ? 
 Clay Aye, of Maud Hamilton, thy mother. 
 
 Whose faithless nature you have heard described 
 
 In the tale 1 have narrated. 
 
 The wronged one, your father's enemy, is before you, 
 
 And now he seeks 
 
 Mar Oh, Heaven ; yon have deceived me ! 
 
 Your name is not Claybrook ; you are 
 
 Clay Aye, blench not ; 'tis Winter Rouelle, 
 
 Thy enemy, and now I seek 
 
 Mar Oh, do not say revenge. 
 
 Rouelle Nay, for that already have I sated. 
 
 For they drained the cup of sorrow to its very dregs, as you 
 well know. 
 
 Therefore, 'tis not revenge, but your fair hand I seek, 
 
 And now demand in speedy marriage. [After a pause. 
 
 You asked me why I came here. 
 
18 WINTER ROUELtE. 
 
 You have been answered. 
 
 Now, to my honorable offer, I await your response. 
 Mar Honor ! alas, deadlier than the canker to the rose, 
 
 Ay, than death itself, hath thy honor proved. 
 
 Sir, honor aims not to humble, but defends the weak. 
 
 It wrongs not the innocent, but is compassionate, 
 
 And weeps to see the woes of the hopeless and distressed. 
 
 Thy love ! Oh, love seeks not to blight, 
 
 But sheds sweet comfort, like gentle dews, upon the wasted 
 heart. 
 
 Perfidy is not its glory, 
 
 For it is the champion of gentleness and truth. 
 
 Wielding its celestial power against deceit and wrong ; 
 
 Nay, it scorns to grasp with iron hand 
 
 When purity, forlorn, shrinks trembling from its touch. 
 
 Sir, I believed you were a gentleman. I am deceived. 
 
 Go, therefore. I'm not the lowly subject of thy power! 
 Rmi Most proudly said ; and for this I love thee more. 
 
 Yes, I'll go, but not repining ; vfor thy scorn shall not avail. 
 
 List ye : against the meshes which my craft 
 
 Hath fixed around thee, thine arm is powerless. 
 
 Of thy liberty, this house is now the sphere ; 
 
 For a minion stands by to watch thy every step. 
 
 Thy friends are all cut off from thee ; 
 
 And the servant in whom you trusted 
 
 Has found an endless rest. Do not blench : 
 
 But hope for no pity, for no pity have you shown. 
 
 Tears melt not the snows of Appenine, nor shall thine this 
 icy heart. 
 
 And now, fair regent of my soul, 
 
 I farewell bid thee till the morrow. 
 
 Then, at early dawn, I'll claim thee for my bride. 
 
 [Exit KOUFXLE. 
 
 Mar He bars the door. 
 
 Oh, Heaven, what shall I do ? 
 
 Adam, oh, Adam, save me ! 
 
 No answer. I am lost, lost ! 
 
 Oh, Claude, Walter- -oh, woe — woe is me. 
 
 SCENE III.— ^ room at Woodlawn Cottage. 
 Enter Mrs. Barclay and Nellie, from opposite directions. 
 
 Nellie Good morning, mother. 
 Mrs. B. Good morning, Nellie. 
 Nell Oh, mother, the night has been so long ; 
 I have not slept, thinking of Claude. 
 
WINTER ROUBLLE. 19 
 
 Mrs. B. Be sad no longer, Nellie, 
 
 For the morn has hrought us joy. 
 
 I have good tidings for you : Claude still lives. 
 Nell He lives ! Oh, tell me, mother, is he near ? 
 
 Enter Dinah. 
 
 Dinah Masr's sleepin' easy now ; 
 
 But, Lord, missus, his face's as pale as de snow, 1 ; 
 
 And he wander in his mind. 
 
 Oh, may de Lord save poor Marion, he say. 
 JSell How strangely Dinah talks. 
 
 Has Claude returned ? Oh, tell me. 
 Mrs. B. Yes, Nellie, Heaven has restored him to us ; 
 
 And even now he sleeps beneath this roof. 
 
 But stay, dear child. 
 Din Yes, missus, don't go nigh Mm now, 
 
 If you's gwine to kiss and hug 'im ; 
 
 For de doctor's been, and says he must hab quiet. 
 Ndl It is so strange. When happened this ? 
 Mrs. B. I will tell you, Nellie. 
 
 Long ere the dawn of morning, Walter left the house. 
 
 And wandering through the forest near, he met poor Claude. 
 
 But how changed was he since their last parting : 
 
 His uniform was tattered, and his frightful look 
 
 Was like a maniac's ; and mad he seemed. 
 
 Crying for help to rescue Marion from treachery's toils. 
 Nell It is very strange. 
 Mrs. B. At first, he could not move ; 
 
 But soon, with Walter's aid, he gained the house, 
 
 And his mind becoming clear, he quickly told his great mis- 
 fortunes. 
 
 He had been captured by the enemy. 
 
 And, through a foul plot of Captain Clay brook and his 
 accomplice, Del man, 
 
 He was condemned to suffer death ; 
 
 But, as by a miracle, he slipped their hands, 
 
 And flying noithward from the rebel camp, 
 
 On Wednesday night he crossed the river 
 
 At the ford a mile above the Hall. 
 
 Unable to proceed, he paused to rest at the cave close by ; 
 
 But scarcely had he entered, when familiar voices echoed on 
 his ear. 
 
 His enemies were near again : 'twas Clay brook and Roger 
 Delman. 
 
 They had met there by appointment ; and rehearsing their 
 fearful crimes, 
 
 Claybrook was assured of Claude's destruction, 
 
 Which was evidenced by a note addressed by him to Marion. 
 
 And now, believing him dead, the demon aims to ruin her. 
 
20 WINTER ROUELLE. 
 
 Ndl Oh, mother, where is Walter ? he must save her. 
 
 Mrs. B. Be calm : you have not heard me through. 
 
 Marion still is safe, I hope ; for Clay brook, traitor to his 
 
 country. 
 Has planned an onset for the mid hour of to-night 
 Upon the camp of Colonel Barratier, whither he soon must 
 
 speed ; 
 And, perchance, on this issue had hung the fate of Marion, 
 If Claude had not returned. 
 
 Nell Was he discovered by them ? 
 
 Mrs. B. No ; for weak and quite unarmed, 
 
 He knew he could not cope with them alone, 
 
 And checking his resentment till at laat they parted, 
 
 He left the cave, and was coming here for aid. 
 
 When, in the dark forest near, he stumbled in his course, 
 
 And, in agony of pain and passion, fainted ; 
 
 Thus your brother found him ; but anon he brought him 
 
 hither. 
 And drawing forth the truth from Claude, has flown to 
 Marion's aid. 
 
 Din And Lord, missus, didn't he look savage ? 
 He grabbed his sword up, sayin', 
 I'll go and stab de willain to de heart's blood : 
 And he would have done it, if missus hadn't stopped him. 
 
 Mrs. B. I persuaded him to proceed with caution, 
 And, though fretting at delay, 
 He promised to procure the aid the law affords, 
 And for this purpose has hastened to 'Squire Buster's. 
 
 Nell Alas, I fear that much is yet amiss. 
 Poor Marion : how I do pity her. 
 And Claude, mother, I must see him. 
 '' Mrs. B. Come, Nellie, we'll go there together ; 
 
 And allay his fears, if he awakes, for he is hopeless. [Exit. 
 
 ACT III. 
 
 ^Q'ESlEt 1.— A pasture. Timothy Balsam, AoeiTigr. 
 
 Enter 'Squire Kustbr. 
 
 Rusier Oh, Timothy, now just see what you've done ; my best 
 pants are badly soiled, and, I might say, they're very wet. 
 
 Timothy An sure 'Squire I didn't ^ee yees coming whin I threw the 
 vines, 
 
WINTER ROUELLB. 21 
 
 Rust Be more careful with the next. Timothy, Timothy, you 
 must strike your hoe a little wider and a little deeper for it is the 
 natural inclination of this variety of potato to spread ; aye, and to 
 root very low in the soil. 
 
 Tim Niver a one has escaped nie eye. An' sure, who could be 
 afther catchin' Timothy Balsam wid his'n closen ? 
 
 Rud Oh, Timothy, you are heedless. See there, now, you've cut 
 in two that fine, and I might say symmetrical specimen of the veg- 
 etable order 
 
 Tim Niver mind, the cuts will hale an' make good seed. 
 
 Rust Timothy, you should wield your hoe more in accordance with 
 the great principles of philosophy ; that is to say, let the handle be 
 nearly parallel with the ground. Thus : 
 
 Tim An' sure, wdio's a goin' to stoop an' break his back for a few 
 pratees ? The divil take ye parallils. I'll not stoop for yees ; 
 niver ! I got a livin' beforent I iver saw the likes of yees, and I 
 can find another place where folks is less onrasinable. Have me 
 stoop double, an' sure ! 
 
 Rust No, Timothy, hold, you must not leave me thus. I have 
 done well by you, and I know you will not be ungrateful. 
 
 Tim Ongrateful is ifi* The divil take yees ! Haven't I arned me 
 pay as much as iny ither mon ? 
 
 Rust Yes, but beware how you threaten to leave my service. The 
 law is with me here, and if you go, I'll have a capias on thee. 
 
 Tim A capias is it ? An' whot is that, sure ? 
 
 Rust It's virtue, puts thee in the clutches of the law. 
 
 Tim Bedad, ye old villain, I'll have ye, thin. Me fists is capiasses 
 and you are in me grip. Take this : 
 
 Rust Oh, don't, don't, good Timothy ; you hurt. Please let me 
 
 go- 
 
 Tim Will ye iver put a capias on me ? 
 
 Rust Never. 
 
 Tim '\ bin quit ye blarney, and lave me. 
 
 Rmt Will you resume your hoeing, Timothy, and be mindful that 
 you do not injure the potatoes ? 
 
 Tim Niver mind that, but lave me, or I'll send me duke a flyin' 
 on yer posy smeller. [Exit Ruster. 
 
 Enter Delman. 
 
 Del Hallo, Balsam ; hard at work I find you, though the sun's 
 not high. 
 
 Tim An' faix, 'tis Misther Dilman. The top o' the mornin' to 
 yees. It's a long while since. 
 
 Del Yes, Tim, I've been fighting for our country. 
 
 Tirri Fajx, I've thought mesilf I'd rather use a musket than a hoe. 
 
 Del I've better work than either for ye, Tim. It's rough, but 
 there's money in it. 
 
 Tim I takes, Misther Dilman ; its throat cuttin' that ye wants of 
 mees. 
 
 Del Aye, if worst comes to worst, though I think there'll be no 
 need. Are you ready ? 
 
22 WINTER ROUELLB. 
 
 Tim Yis, oncet I have me grip on me shillaleh. 
 Del Then be in waiting here for me whilst I go and see the 
 'squire. Is the old man in the house ? 
 Tim He is that. 
 
 Del I shall look for you soon, Tim, and hope to find you ready. 
 Tm I'll be on the spot, sir. [Exit Delman. 
 
 SCENE II. — An office. The 'Squire, seated at a table, writing. 
 
 Enter Eoger Delman. 
 
 Del Good morning, 'Squire. 
 
 Rust I believe that I have had the pleasure to address you before. 
 
 Del Yes ; my name is Delman. I have come here direct from 
 your old friend, Captain Claybrook, who is, or rather soon viH be, 
 in need of your assistance. 
 
 Rust I am the man for him, for I am deep in logic and profound 
 in argument. In what way can I serve him ? 
 
 Del This night he wants you, nay, commands you, to be at 
 Noithwood Hall, prepared to wed him to the girl he loves. 
 
 Rast Ah, yes, to legalize a marriage. Sir, marriage, according to 
 the best judges, signifies the lawful union of man and woman. I 
 might divide this subject into divers branches and treat of each ad 
 infinitum ; but I will only say that the ceremony was instituted in a 
 state of innocence, for the better preservation thereof, and is one of 
 the great rights of human nature. Aye, sir, I repeat it, 'tis one of 
 the great rights of human nature ! And let me prove this, for per- 
 spicuity by argument is made more apparent. 
 
 Del Beg your pardon, sir, but I have no time to listen. I don't 
 dispute what you have said. 
 
 Rust An instant, good sir. It is my wish that you assure the said 
 Claybrook that his request shall be complied with. But hark! who 
 comes now ? I hear the sound, or I might say tread, of a rapidly 
 approaching step. 
 
 Del By the oath I swear by, 'tis Walter Barclay ! He leaps the 
 ground and is coming in. Now, Ruster, guard well your speech. — 
 But hold, where can I hide ? Quick, be quick ! 
 
 Rus Here, in this closet. But what's the matter ? 
 
 Del Nothing, if you do as I direct you. He is the enemy of Clay- 
 brook ; and I charge you promise him whatever he demands, and 
 so you keep him here but twenty minutes, all will yet be well. The 
 moment he's engaged with you, I'll slip out unseen, and then, his 
 life is surely bound to spring the trap I'll soon prepare ^or him. — 
 He's knocking at the door ; admit him. 
 
 Enter Walter Barclay. 
 
 Wal Mr. Euster, I presume. 
 
 Rus You say truth, young man. The Busters, of Fairfax, were 
 
WINTER feOUELtE. 23 
 
 my forefathers ; and I, Josiah Ruster, Esquire, am an expounder 
 and dispenser of the law. 
 
 Wal Then, without delay, please issue me a writ. One Captain 
 Claybrook is the guilty man ; murder is the crime. 
 Bus Are you quite sure of this ? 
 Wal I will affirm to it. 
 Rus Where did you learn this ? 
 
 Wal The story's briefly told. Last night, Claybrook and his 
 accomplice, Delman, met by appointment at the cave on yonder 
 mountain, and thinking themselves alone, loudly discussed their 
 fearful crimes. They were overheard. 
 Eus Are you the only person cognizant of what you heard there? 
 Wal I have not told it to another. From the place I heard it 
 straightway came I here. [Exit Delman. 
 
 Rus Well, I'll giant thee a writ, young man. [He procures a blank 
 paper, and returns to W ai.tkr.] Unto you. young man, be it known 
 by these presents Before you stands Josiah Ruster. I am well 
 descended, my ancestral tree bending, as you see, beneath the weiu;ht 
 of statesmen, generals, poets and lawyers. I myself, as I have 
 before informed you, am a justice of the peace and expounder of 
 the law. For this was I born. Laws were made to govern the 
 world, for the world is vicious, and must have laws and dispensers of 
 justice ; and in short, to be brief and in a word, without them the 
 rogues would have the game in their own hands. Furthermore, till 
 mankind shall see fit to mend, laws and expounders of laws there 
 must be ; but, toputit in a nutshell, accoidmg to all the wisest, the 
 great rule of rules and general law of laws, is to follow and obey 
 the laws and customs of the country where he is. 
 
 Wal Where who is ? 
 ^ Rus Ah, yes, good youth, my words provoke the questien. I 
 mean every man generally, and Claybrook particularly. He is now 
 amenable to the law. Young man, the law not only has limbs and 
 sprigs, but eyes, and in the said eyes of the law he is now guilty of 
 a henious, and I might say, a capital offence. Our laws are excel- 
 lent. We get the idea of the system, the same as we do that of 
 paper making, from the bees, the busy little bees, who. as the poet 
 says, improve each shining hour and live in harmony together. 
 Their maxims of state are admirable, and stand upon the profound- 
 est policy imaginable, and their government and political economy 
 are well known to us. Young man, do you follow the delicate 
 train of my argument ? 
 
 Wal I do, and I am enlightened, sir. Your speech is most judi- 
 cious and well timed ; but I'd thank you, sir, not to delay me 
 longer ; the writ. 
 
 Rus Oh, yes. I had quite forgotten ; I will prepare it for you. 
 [He becomes seated at the table, but again arises.] Young man, it becomes 
 my duty to inform you that writs vary exceedingly in their form, 
 or, I might say, tenor. There be writs of capias ad satisfadiendum, 
 where the sheriflf is commanded to take the offender at all hazards ; 
 then there is the writ of fieri facias, which lieth for debt or damages 
 
24 WINTER ROUELLB. 
 
 as well against executors or administrators as any other man ; and 
 again there be writs of error, of elegit, of audita querela, of — ■ 
 
 Wal Hold ! 1 grow impatient ! 
 
 Rus Ah ! yes, good youth ; impatience may be defined as that 
 feeling which proceedeth from delays. On this head, my Lord Ba- 
 con justly observes : there is surely no greater wisdom than well to 
 time the" beginnings and onsets of things, for occasion tnrneth a 
 bald noddle after she hath once presented her locks in front and no 
 
 hold taken ! In my opinion there is 
 
 Wal Cease, babbler ! all my respect for you is gone ; justice is 
 but checked by thee. Thou'rt a very knave, a stupid ass, a mush- 
 roon philosopher, sprung up since yesterday ! My sword shall be 
 the law, and you shall have your just deserts for this ; but now, get 
 thee to thy talmud, sage, and enjoy the hour I grant thee. [Exit. 
 
 Rus Alas ! the youth's mind is not open to conviction. He should 
 study Aristotle and Horace Greeley. Well, I'll go and complete 
 my commentary on Blackstone. How the world's heart will palpi- 
 tate, when 'tis published. 
 
 SCENE III. — A room in Northwood Hall. Winter Rouelle, alone. 
 
 Rou No, I've entered the lists, 
 
 And I'll not be timorous in the encounter, 
 For I have sworn to sonsummate my vow. 
 And I am blameless, for revenge is planted in my blood, my 
 
 soul, 
 Crying, be" merciless, ruin, kill, destroy, when I do pause. 
 Since this is fixed then stand it so, 
 Be my delight another's woe. 
 But soft — who comes now ? 
 
 Enter Delman. 
 
 You look excited, Roger. 
 
 All goes well, I trust ? 
 Del Per contra, sir ; all is lost. 
 Rau How, sirrah ! you have not been incautious ? 
 Del Not I, alone ; 
 
 We both were so at the cave last night : 
 
 We had an eavesdropper. 
 Rou 'Sdeath and furies, no ! — you do mistake. 
 
 What, discovered? I'm growing dizzy at the thought. 
 
 Where learned you this ? 
 Del At the 'squires'; 'twas there I found 
 
 That measures have been taken to cause your arrest. 
 
 You are charged with murder. 
 Rou And by whom ? Oh ! let death and destruction 
 
 Also light upon the spying devil's soul. 
 
WiNfER ROUELLE. 26 
 
 Who makes the charpfe ? 
 
 But hold — I will not tarry here. 
 
 We are not safe. 
 Del There's no danger near ; 
 
 It will take 'em an hour to get here. 
 
 The person's name is Walter Barclay ! 
 Rou Hold, Delman. you do but jest, 
 
 And I'll not endure it. 
 
 Barclay" s at camp, and his wounds, e'en now, 
 
 Are loudly crying at death's door 
 
 For the passage of his soul to eternity. 
 Del Let me undeceive you. 
 
 I had scarce delivered your orders to the 'squire, 
 
 When Barclay came rushing in the room. 
 Rou Why didn't you shoot him, Delman? 
 Del The place was unfit ; 
 
 I rather sprung within a closet 
 
 And learnt his errand thither. 
 
 All is lost ; all is lost. 
 Rou Oh. fools, fools that were we, 
 
 Not to hunt him down when he was at the cave. 
 
 And I remember now that you are quite to blame for't, 
 Koger ; 
 
 You stayed the search. Oh, hell, to lose him thus ; 
 
 And now to lose the quarry that I so long have struggled for. 
 
 But no, I will not, no ! Come, haste with me, 
 
 And let's secure the girl, 
 
 And force her with us o'er the river. 
 Dd An instant, sir. Now, as I think on't, 
 
 A plan arises in my mind. 
 
 Why couldn't we waylay Barclay 
 
 As he come.sfrora the 'Squire's? 
 Rou Ha, ha. ha ! Then you left him there? 
 
 Oh Koger good Roger, by my soul thou'rt acute. 
 
 Yes, well thought of ; we'll meet him at the crossing. 
 
 There he shall stay ! Come, come, let's go. 
 Del But the night has passed 
 
 Since we met there at the cave. 
 
 A long time for him to tattle in ! 
 Rou Delman, cease this torture ; 
 
 My heait is stilled 'twixt fear and rage. 
 
 Then all is useless, useless. Oh. misery ! 
 Del Ha, be assured. Captain, for. as I reflect on what he said, 
 
 I can assert that Barclay is the only one 
 
 Who knows what has transpired of late, 
 
 Save the 'Squire, to whom I gave the watchword. 
 
 Baiclay, I remember now. did use these words : 
 ' " I have not told it to another ; 
 
 From the place I heard it, straightway came I here. 
 Rou Oh, then come, Roger, come, 
 
26 WINTER ROilELiil!. 
 
 Let's meet him and slay him. 
 
 Kind prince of darkness, I thank thee for this. 
 
 Come, Roger, come, let's go. 
 Bel What, and leave the bird in open cage, 
 
 With no one near to guard the egress ? 
 Ron No, Roger, no ; ruin seize me ! 
 
 You must stay behind. 
 
 For I am well prepared to cope with him alone. 
 
 Here ; take this key ; it stays her in the parlor yonder. 
 Del No, I'd rather go with you and be in the fight. 
 
 Let Balsam stay ; he is at hand. Hey, ho, Balsam ! 
 
 Enter Timothy. 
 Tim On the spot, sir. 
 Rou Balsam, I think you are the man for me, 
 
 Your eye is clear and stern. 
 
 And, I take it, you are not chicken-hearted. 
 Tim Bedad, yer honir, that's so, 
 
 Minny's the mon I'vp laid low wid me shillelah. 
 Rou Enough ; here, take this pistol. 
 
 And here's a purse of g(jld, which is your own 
 
 If you do as I command ye. 
 Tim An' faix the gould has got the swatest tinkle. 
 
 Yis, yer honir, I'm riddy fur yees ! 
 Rou Your duty is to guard the girl imprisoned in this house. 
 
 Let no man enter here ; aud hark ye, if Barclay should appear 
 
 Sight for his heart and shoot him as yo would a dog. 
 
 Till we return, remain you here 
 
 With ear intent on every passing sound, 
 Tim An' sure the job's in good hands. 
 Rou 'Tis well ; Roger, come ; 
 
 Haste tve to the crossing. [Exit. 
 
 SCENE IV. — A forest. Enter Delman and Rouelle, 
 
 Rou Think you that we shall meet him, Roger ? 
 
 Rog Aye, the place is near ; press on. 
 
 Rou Hold, Roger ; — dost mark this aged oak ? 
 
 Rog Aye, 'tis old as time and rotten at the pith ; 
 
 Rou "Tis there a murder was committed. 
 
 Rog A murder ! when ? by whom ? 
 
 Rou Revenge ! One evening, years ago. 
 It met its victim in this lonely wood, 
 And drawing forth a dagge)-, swore to stab him 
 If he cursed not and abjured his creator. 
 To save his life, he at length complied. 
 Revenge then plunged the poinard in his heart, 
 And thus its deadly oath fulfilled, 
 
WINTER ROUELLE. 27 
 
 For the body and soul of its enemy 
 
 Were cause<l to perish at a single stroke " 
 Rog Most horrible- — what, with no plea for mercy on his lips ? 
 Rou Not to heaven ; but to man he whispered, 
 
 Spare dear Maud ! List, that voice ! 
 Voice Hold, most wnitched man, 
 
 Desist in thy mad purpose, 
 
 War not against thy soul. 
 Rou Ha, Geoffry : my enemy's voice ! 
 Del What spirit hath possessd thee. Captain ? 
 
 Ail seems clear. Come, Barclay will escape us. 
 Rou True ; let's hasten on. The place is damned. 
 
 Did I speak of a murder ? 
 Del Hist, and prepare for one ? 'tis Barclay's step. 
 
 Stand back till he be fairly in the snare. 
 
 Ha ; 'tis he ; look how he scowls and grasps his sword. 
 
 This for thee : \Fire3 a pistol. 
 
 He stands uninjured and amazed. 
 
 Enter Walter Barclay. 
 
 Wal Stand forth, assassin, and fight like a man, 
 
 Ha, two of thee ! 
 Rou We are thine enemies, damned spy. 
 
 And ye shall perish now. 
 Wal Come, for I would meet thee, traitors, 
 ' Though thy name were legion ; let's to it. 
 
 S They fight. Eouelle is disarmed. Engaging with Delman, Walter 
 stumbles and Delman closes upon him. 
 
 Rou Hold, Koger, I command you, hold ! 
 
 Make him a prisoner ; his life shall serve me yet. 
 
 SCENE V. — A room in Nbrthwood Hall. Enter Rouelle and Delman. 
 
 Del Well, Captain, the youth is caged, 
 
 And in the cell below can give his thoughts to meditation. 
 
 Heigho. he taxed my sword arm to the marrow. 
 
 And I do think he would have forced us to the cry for quarter, 
 
 Had he not stumbled ; his heart is game, 
 
 And I will wager this true blade 
 
 That if his arms were free, he'd batter down 
 
 The adamantine walls that now immure him. 
 
 Rou No, he cannot. 
 
 Del Aye, but did'st mark him as we turned away ? 
 From dumb despair his look changed to defiance 
 And spoke the words his caution would not utter. 
 Leave me alone here but an hour, it said, and I will under- 
 mine thee. 
 
28 WINTER ROUELLE. 
 
 Eou I must look to it, Roger, before we go, 
 
 I think yon said the 'squire is sure to be on hand here, when 
 we come ? 
 Del Yes, Captain ; count on him ; 
 
 The old ass will be on the scratch when time's called. 
 Ron Then let us soon depart, for nothing is undone 
 
 That can ensure myself an easy triumph here, 
 
 Nor shall there be at camp, for Trellon's onset upon Barratier, 
 
 Delman, call Tim. 
 Bel Heigho, Tim, ho ! 
 
 Bnter Tim. 
 
 Eou Well , is your prisoner safe ? 
 
 lim She iji, an' sure. 
 
 Eou How know ye so ? 
 
 Tim Bedad she's cryin' like to kill ; and jist now since 
 
 She made a shrake that split the ears of mees. 
 Del Perchance she saw us leading Barclay hither. 
 Eou Most like — ha, 'tis pitiful to keep her there, 
 
 And. as I do think on't, my will relents. 
 Tim An' faix, yer honir, if its no great shakes you'll be afther 
 
 gettin' by't, I'd let her go. 
 Eou [Aside.] The bait hath drawn him out — 
 
 Fool ! ye are not here to give conditions, 
 
 But to put thy hand to bloody work. 
 
 Do you falter ? — are ye heart sick ? 
 Mm The divil a bit, yer honir ; I says as you says ; 
 
 If you says kill, I kills. 
 Eou Aye, mark and obey me well, for if you fail — 
 
 But no, you must not, will not, for here's a greater fee for 
 you. 
 
 Do you prove true ; and again I charge ye 
 
 To keep the girl imprisoned there till we this night return. 
 
 Go you now and get our horses ready, whilst we repast. 
 Tim Yes, yer honir. [Exit. 
 
 Eou What think you, Roger ; can I rely on him ? 
 Del Aye, to the end, Captain, 
 
 For the golden reward hath armored him against affection's 
 arrows. 
 Eou So it seems ; but come ; 
 
 Join me in a bumper to our cause's success. 
 
 SCENE VI. — In the rear and midway of the stage, the exterior of a cell. 
 Behind its grated window, Walter Barcla-Y is discovered, through the 
 darkness, leaning on the sill, lost in thought. 
 
 Enter Marion Hamilton, pale and trembling, and with hair disheveled. 
 Oh, Heaven, give courage to my heart, and lead me on. 
 
WINTER ROUELLE. 29 
 
 But whither ? It was Walter's step and form ; I know 'twas 
 he they led. 
 
 Perhaps they broup:ht him here and have left him in these 
 gloomy walls to die 
 
 Alas ! my soul is wreckefl upon a sea of trouble. 
 
 List, that groan. Walter ! 
 Wal Hatk ; an angel's voice I hear. 
 3Iar All gracious powers, 'tis he ; dear Walter. 
 Wal A kiss, dear love ; I can no moie ; my arms are hoynd. 
 
 Oh ! this is the very gall of wretchedness ; to meet you 
 thus ; to see thy sorrow. 
 
 Oh, do not chide me, Marion. 
 Mar Chide thee ! and for what ? I rather thank heaven 
 
 That I am once more privileged to bless you. 
 
 Alas, Walter, poor Cbiude is dead ! 
 Wal Mourn his death no more ; you are deceived. 
 3Iar He lives ! — but no, this ring, this letter, Walter. 
 Wal It was writ by Claude, 'tis true, 
 
 But he afterwards escaped and now is at the cottage. 
 
 We knew your danger, and hither I was hastening to your 
 rescue, 
 
 When I met and fought our enemies in the woods adjacent, 
 
 And, unhappy fate, was conquered by them. 
 Mar And were you injured, Walter ? I heard your groans. 
 Wal No, Marion ; it was from my heart's anguish that they came. 
 
 I thought of thee ; but you are free from danger now. 
 
 \A noise within. 
 
 Hark ! they are not gone — the hasty step — the bitter curse — 
 
 The frequent shout — these, Marion, proclaim thy flight dis- 
 covered. 
 
 Oh. Marion, do not tarry here, but fly, fly, while yet you may, 
 
 Once gain the nearest woods and you are safe from harm. 
 Mar And leave thee here alone, dear Walter? 
 
 No, my flight were but the signal for thy death. 
 Wal And thy presence is tlie fiat to my madness. 
 
 Oh, Marion, go, I charge thee, go ! 
 
 My doom is fixed and may not be averted. 
 
 But to thee two ways lie open : let thy choice be quick." 
 
 Fly, and 'tis life, to mourn the death of one you loved ! 
 
 Kemain, and to us both come ruin, death, despair. 
 
 If you love me, go. 
 Mar Alas. I would not live when you are gone. 
 
 I know not what to do. 
 Wal Hark, that noise again ! 
 
 Oh, 'tis like a death knell to my ear. 
 
 Marion, will you go? 
 Mar Oh, Walter, do not force me from thee, 
 
 But let me stay and comfort thee. 
 
 'Tis in the hour of darkness that love's glory most doth shine. 
 Wal If this be love, this mad'ning, living death, 
 
30 WINTER KOUELLE. 
 
 Then do I love the, Marion. Oh, when I in tenor look on 
 
 tliee, 
 ' And think how near thou stand'st on ruin's threshold, 
 
 Methinkb my single arm with strength of Samson should be 
 
 nerved, 
 And snap these bars asunder. Alas, I am powerless to save 
 tliee. 
 Mar Walter. I'll go, though the shade of coming misery 
 Has fallen on my soul. We'll part; but take this : 
 Wol Ha, a stilettf) — a silent witness of thy heavenly purity, 
 For no villain's blood yet hath dimmed its biightness. 
 But no, I pray you keep it ; it may yet befriend thee. 
 It cannot save me. 
 Mar Alas, we may never meet again, dear Walter. 
 Oh muht we, must we part forever ? 
 
 They Embrace and Marion sloicly retires from the cell. Unable to proceed, 
 she pxuses an instant, and totters hack to the grated window. 
 
 Wal Oh bitter sweetness : happy misery ! 
 
 Mar Walter, I cannot go : here I will stay and die. 
 
 Why should I wish to live ? my waking thoughts forever 
 haunted, 
 
 My dreams made hideous, by this last scene ! 
 Wal Oh heaven, Marion, conceal yourself — 
 
 Alas, it is too late, too late. Oh fatal day. 
 
 Enter Winter Kouelle. 
 
 Eou Shake off thy vapors, soul, bright flame of love, gleam on. 
 For my heart's lost shepherdees is found ! 
 
 He is about to clasp her in his arms, when she draws the stiletto and keeps 
 
 him at hay. 
 
 Mar DemoU; lay not thy hands upon me ! 
 
 Thus they stand, when Kogbr Delman enters by the side opposite Rouelle, 
 and, unseen by Marion, cautiously approaches and grasps her hand from 
 
 behind. 
 
 Wal Vile traitors, unhand her ! 
 
 Rou Desist, mad spirit ; thou art entombed. 
 
 And prithee, why so angry, boy ? this beauteous maid is mine. 
 
 So come, my foiled one ; let's to our chamber now, 
 Wal Spare her, oh, spaie her, for she is innocent and pure. 
 Rou Would'st give thy life to save her ? 
 Wal My life ? a thousand times ; oh relent and spare her. 
 
 Aye, take forth my heart, for it is dross, 
 
 Though rich if it her freedom buys. 
 
 Oh, spare her. 
 Rou Fond youth, desist ; you cannot move me. 
 
 Release her ? Never ! Tnough chasts Diana pled for her, 
 
Winter rouislle. 31 
 
 And, to void the act by fear of evils which might light on it, 
 
 Should picture plagues-; and horrors, whose conteu)plation bare 
 
 Would freeze the bhod and make the inmost soul recoil, 
 
 Still would I cry, revenge ! 
 
 For it infects and consumes my being, 
 
 And l)ere I swear, it shall not be dislodged, 
 
 Till death's cold hand shall seize me. 
 Del Beauty and love doth ever make men blind to reason. 
 Rou No more, but come. 
 Wal My curse, my curse, upon thee. 
 
 Marion, adieu ; — poor girl ! 
 
 Me thinks that e'en the angels should lament and weep for 
 thee. 
 
 Adieu, adieu forever. 
 
 ACT IV. 
 
 SCENE I. — A darkened room at Woodlawn Cottage, where Claude is dis- 
 covered, reclining. 
 
 Clan How now ? Ah, 'tis night, and I'm alone ; 
 
 Or do I vaguely wander in a dream ? 
 Din Oh, it's a dream mas'r, it's a dream. 
 Clnu Ah, Dinah ? 
 
 Din Yas, mas'r ; is you any better ? 
 Clau Have I been ill ? 
 
 But tell me, where is Marion ? 
 Din At de Hall, I reckons, mas'r. 
 
 Clau Why, has not Walter yet returned? Tell me the hour. 
 Din De hour's in de middle de arternoon, mas'r. 
 Clau And they not here ! 
 
 Din No, mas'r, not one ; for, you see, in de fust place, mas'r 
 Walter didn't come back, so Nellie goes to see de 'squire to know 
 de reason. In de second place, she didn't come back, and then, 
 'bout two hour ago, de heart of missus get tired of waitin'. She go 
 to dis yere window dere, an' say, 0, how suspenseful to my bosom 
 is dis fear ; I cannot bear it longer ; so she suit de action to de wud 
 and went off to de Hall. 
 
 \^\jDlau This indeed is fearful, fearful. [Aside. 
 
 Why, 'tis plain there's murder in the air. 
 Perhaps the doors of North wood Hall 
 Are metamorphosed into jaws of death, where all who enter, 
 
 perish. 
 Arise, then, and to the rescue or else to common sepulchre 
 
 with them. 
 Dinah, I'll to thee Hall ; tell John to saddle Duke for me. 
 
Winter iioUELtE. 
 
 Enter John. 
 
 John I'se here, I'se here. 0, mas'r, dis has been about de wustest 
 day dis niggrev eber seed. 
 Clau Ah, John, and why ? 
 
 John Yer see, mas'r, 'bout noon to-day it look like blowin' up a 
 storm, so I go to get de cow which was in de pastur', near de great 
 high road. I dribes her from de field, an' when I reach de road, she 
 takes de frights an' run. 
 Clau And what caused this ? 
 
 John She seed two horsemen comin' towards us. like de debil on a 
 wild colt, and scuddiu' to de medder, she slump down in de mud. 
 Clau Two horsemen ! Describe them to me. 
 
 John One was dark 'plected man, wid long sword an' gorg'us sod- 
 ger clothes, and de odder was de smaller man, wid sticker, too. 
 Clau And their horses ? ■ 
 
 John De fust one rid gray calv'y hos, an' de odder a hos which 
 look like one ob yours, but they go so killin' fast 1 wouldn't swar 
 'twas. 
 Clau In what direction were they going ? 
 
 John S'uth'ly, mas'r, and soon as dey got out of sight, I 
 
 Claio Hold, enough ; the enemy has flown, [Aside, 
 
 And by the gods my stars are tragic now. 
 They put me in extremity — to Hall, or camp ? 
 Alas, I feel that I can do no service there. 
 And to camp I'll haste and send these ruthless traitors to 
 
 their doom, 
 Ere they have time tq consummate their treachery. 
 John, come with me ; I'll to horse without delay. 
 John Yas, mas'r, yas. [Exit Claude and John. 
 
 Din By golly, thar's mischief brewin' all dis day. 
 
 SCENE II. — The exterior of Northwood Hall. At an open window, in the 
 upper story, Adam Goodman is discovered. Emerging therefrom, he 
 descends upon a rope. 
 
 Good Thanks to a good constitution, I'm still livin', though it 
 cost a deal o' time and tuggin' to slip them pesky cords which Ma- 
 rion's buzzom friend saw fit to bind me with. These is the times 
 that tries men's souls. I looks down, and the pebbles I twig below 
 don't look no bigger nor a good sized mud turtle, and Tom, our cat, 
 don't look no bigger nor a flea. Scat Tom ! Ha, ha, see how he 
 runs. I reckons I looks slightooaly sublime at this height from the 
 ground. Poor Marion, I wonder what's happened to her, but I'll 
 soon know ; so glory, glory, hallalujah, as I go slippin' down. — 
 Naow, I'll stop here, at this window, and draw her here by rappin'. 
 
Winter rouelle. 
 
 SCENE III. — A chamber, where Marion is discovered. 
 
 Marion ! 
 calls my name ? 
 
 JEnter Goodman through the mndow. 
 
 Good [Without] Marion! 
 
 Mar Who is it calls my name ? 
 
 Good Marion ! 
 
 Mar Oh, 'tis Goodman's voice ; and, blest sight, 'tis he. 
 Good Yes, my pretty bird, it's Goodman ; my poor, poor little 
 darling. Oh, that I should live to see you come to this ! 
 Mar Be not so sad. dear Goodman, for I am yet unharmed. 
 Good Thank heaven, thank heaven ! I feared the worst. 
 Mar Speak softly, Goodman ; without, there is a man on 
 guard. 
 
 Good I know it, Marion, and he must be removed ; it's death to 
 one of us, he or I. 
 
 Mar No, Goodman ; it were folly to attack him, for he is 
 armed. 
 
 Good Very true, but I can spring on him and spread him out be- 
 fore he knows it. 
 
 Mar List, Goodman ; I have a better plan ; we'll organize a vic- 
 toiy, 
 For the easier way is, to me, the better. 
 Goodman, you must disguise yourself in my apparel 
 Good Ha. ha, ha , me ? that's a good un. that's a good un. 
 
 Wouldn't I look dashin' in a gals rig? ha, ha. ha. 
 Mar Do not laugh, Goodman, but do your part and the stratagem 
 succeeds 
 He has not seen me : and in the darkness, your looks cannot 
 
 be scrutinized. 
 Meet him. and first disarming his suspicion, then disarm him ; 
 Now don't refuse me, Adam, if you love me. 
 Good But Where's the gown a comin' from ? 
 
 Yours would be a rod too short and small for me. 
 But then I might put on a zoo zoo and a skart. 
 Mar Leave it to me, Goodman. 
 <Good Well, supposin' ye gets me up in shape, what am I to do ? 
 
 Shall I play the love sick gal, and pin him that way? 
 Mar The rest I'll leave to you ; but be wary whilst you seem con- 
 fiding. 
 Good Ha. Marion, you've learnt a lesson since last night. 
 
 But come, let's lose no time ; put on my rig and I'll venture 
 
 out to meet him. 
 If he suspects me, I'll flatten him to once ; 
 If not, I "11 try on him the power o' love and wine. 
 
 SCENE IV. — Enter Tim with Goodman disguised at a woman. 
 Good Does you love me, Timmy ? 
 
34 WINDER ROUELtE. 
 
 Tim Yis, me darlint, I loves you. You've p:ot a pretty mug, and 
 you seems the jintlist gal I've mit this long while since. 
 
 Good I' ye always been gay, until to-day, when I met that cruel 
 man. I wishil loved him as I do you, most noble Timmy ; I am so 
 sad ! Oh, 'Jimmy console me, comfort me, even with a kiss. 
 
 Tim Its a quare mon that would say no to yees. 
 
 Good Oh, I'm in the 'lysian fields o' pleasure, and nothin' shorter. 
 I'm in a world o' sweet. I've tasted 6' love's honey. But I'm 
 thirsty yet ; so give me a glass o' water, Timmy, if you please. 
 
 Tim Tush, me darlint ; ye desarves it betther drink. 
 
 Good \ do feel faint ; love always makes me mellow. 
 
 Tim Thin come and get a drink wid mees. Be gorra, the Cap'n's 
 got the kay to the box. Shill I smash the thing ? 
 
 Good Yes, my dear ; get that shovel and stave it in for me. That's 
 right. Ah, here's some brandy, very old and fine ; of Cognac vintage, 
 here's sherry wine,, both pale and brOwn, and there's some Irish 
 whiskey. 
 
 Tim Away wid 'em ; St. Croix's the stufi^for mees. 
 
 Good And I will take some malmsey. I'll pour for you. You 
 wants few nippers here below but wants your nippers strong. Eh, 
 my love? 
 
 Tim Yis, me darlint, the wather spiles the flavor. 
 
 Good Then lieie, my brave un ; take this, flavorin' it with an- 
 other kiss. I likes to hang upon your lips, my dear, you is so elo- 
 quent. Come, now, my dear, and let us take a hop and a skip 
 around the room. 
 
 Tim What, me gal, with niver a fiddle nare us ? 
 
 Good Let the fiddles break their strings, for I hears good music 
 from my Tin)my's lungs ; yes. my dear, the music of the spears is 
 not so ravishing as your voice ; so come, let's canter on. {They dance.'] 
 Hold, I'm getting faint, so let's set down and rest ; — that's right, 
 set up close to me an' hug me ; and let me hear you talk : I likes 
 to hear your dulcet accents. 
 
 Tim You has got an illegant mug, and your jolly ways has took 
 the heart of mees ; yous got the svvatest tongue ; but can ye 
 sing ? 
 
 Good Jes^t a little ; up'ards from a squeak to an opera; some'at 
 like a lark in a teapot 
 
 Tim Sing a little, thin, my darlint. 
 Good Aye, that will I : 
 
 I Mine own Tim Balsam wants a song, 
 
 Then wake, my muse, and spin one ! 
 In lively thoughts the strain prolong, 
 
 Since now and laughter are of kin one ! 
 Let's upward mount on fancy's wing, 
 
 Catch pleasure as she flies, 
 While to the deuce our cares we fling, 
 
 As higher, higher, up we rise. 
 
WINTEE ROUELLB. 36 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 Then farewell clouds, and welcome fun, 
 
 Be merry while yon may, 
 When Slimmer melts away our gloom, 
 Think not of Wmier's sway ! 
 How d'ye like that ? 
 Tim Bedad, it makes me wild ; ye desarves a salute for it, my 
 darlint. 
 
 Good Oh, Timmy. what's that in your hand ; a pistol? 
 Tim Yis. my darlint — hie. 
 Good Is it loaded? 
 Tim Yis— hie — my gal. 
 
 Good Oh, don't stay here with me then. I am so skeery. Come, 
 let me put it on the mantle. 
 
 Tim Yis my darlint — hie — take it, if ye likes. 
 Good, [Receiving the p'stol] Now come, come on ye pesky knave that 
 meditates my ruin, for Goodman is himself ajrain ! 
 Tim What's that ? — Hie— give me my pistol ! 
 Good Fool, hold thy peace, or I'll send a bullet through your 
 fuddled head ! 
 
 Tim What's that ye say ? 
 
 Goud Down, varlet. and beg for grace or you're a dead man. 
 Tim 0, don't shoot mees. don't shoot mees ! 
 
 Good Knave, yon see that closet there. Now, if you don't want 
 to be shot, jest put yourself inside it whilst I count three. Start, 
 start, d've see? One— two — 
 
 Tim Yis, yis. I'll go, I'll go there. [Exit Tim. 
 
 Good Good, I've locked ye up jest in time, for there's a knocking 
 at the door. 
 
 Enter 'Squire Ruster. 
 
 Good Look a here, now, old boy, who said ye might walk in here 
 'ithoiit leave fir license ? 
 
 Ras What is your standinir, or, I mi'jcht say, position in society? 
 
 Good Its none o' your pesky biznez, I uiij^iit sny and do say. 
 
 Rus Beware, yonng woman, what language yon address to me. for 
 I am Captain Clay brook's friend, and am here to wed him to the 
 girl he loves. 
 
 Good Oho. you've come to splice Marion, have ye? I see, I see ! 
 Wal, now, d'ye pretend to say that such a little chap as you, can 
 tie a knot ? 
 
 Rus Young woman, I have a slight sprinkling of gray in my 
 hair. 
 
 Good Ergo, I must be respf^ctfnl to ye. Wal. oM boy, say. what 
 are ye goin' to do with that 'ere trreen thing, that bag there, in yer 
 hand ? Been out ches'nuttin', eh ? 
 
 Rus Alas, what ignorance. Nuts ? no, its filled with ideas. 
 
 Good 'Guess that's where ye carry all of your'n, fur its my opinion 
 
36 WINTER ROUELLE. 
 
 that you're an addle pated coot, with no more brains in your skull 
 than an oyster's srot. 
 
 Eus Out upon thee, bold young woman ; it's a vile slander of my 
 fair fame. All my colleagues call me clear in head and profound in 
 argument. 
 
 Good Come now, let's decide your parts. The question for dis- 
 cussion shall be : was it wise in ye to come here this evenin' ? I 
 listens, sir. 
 
 Evs Why, young woman, your question is a syllogism, for here 
 are the premises, and from these premises will follow the conclu- 
 sion. Therefore, it was wise ; you see, you see. Nay, more, I en- 
 joyed the cool breezes, — 
 
 Good That's blowin' through the treezes. Good, go on. 
 
 Eus I enjoyed the cool breezes, as I came across the dewy fields. 
 
 Good I'here's poesy in ye. Good, go on. 
 
 Ens Furthermore, I shall get an appetite for breakfast. There- 
 fore, observe, it was wise, and the bench mast declare for me. 
 
 Good Hold your decision, Judge ; I argies on the other side ; I 
 takes the negative, and say that you're a fool, for Claybrook is 
 worsted, and I'm the friend of all he hates, and the foe of all he 
 likes! 
 
 Eus What ? Why, you astonish me. 
 
 Good In course I does, but you needn't back out on't so fast. I've 
 got ye, you rogue, you villain, yon sneak, you cutpurse ! Take 
 that ; take that ; this shovel fits you well. 
 
 Eus Oh, stop, stop ! 
 
 Good I'll give ye an appetite for breakfast ; take that, and take 
 that Gadzooks, man, you'll make the ruin of my little darlin', a 
 relish for your toast and 'taters, will ye ? Take that, and take 
 that. 
 
 Eus In the name of the Commonwealth of these United States, I 
 bid you 
 
 Good Oh, you needn't bid ; I'd auction you without reserve for a 
 penny postage stamp. 
 
 Eus Vile being, I command 
 
 Good Oh, ye dew. dew ye ? By what right ? Doe*? you argy by 
 comparison or syllogism ? Is you of the nobility ? Where was light 
 first admitted to theni peepers gray ? 
 
 Eus I was born in Virginia, and I command 
 
 Good Oho, we've got a chivalry among us ; we've got a chivalry 
 among us ! In what county was ye born ? 
 
 Eus In Fairfax county, and I trace mv blood across the planks of 
 the Mayflower down to the Invasion of England by Julius Caesar. 
 
 Good And I'll warrant nie old Julius stuck his toad sticker in the 
 bellies of yer ancestry ; so let me imitate his wise example. 
 
 Eus Oh, don't touch me with that sword. 
 
 Good If 'twas mine, I would, but as 'tis Walter Barclay's, I won't 
 disgrace the blade with your foul blood. But start, old boy, start ; 
 get in this closet here beside niy other specimen. 
 
WINTER ROUKLLE. 37 
 
 l_ Rm Who is that man, there ? Why, it is Timothy ! 
 
 Tim Bedad, ould gal, if ye locks him here wid mees, I'll raurther 
 him. 
 
 Good All right, my hearties, fight it out together, kill each other, 
 and save the hangman a job. Come, sir syllogism, go in and try 
 conclusions on these premises. Ihere you are ; the cat caged with 
 the anaconda. Now for the cell where Walter is confined ! 
 
 ACT V. 
 
 SCENE I'. — A camp. In the foreground, a tent. Before it, slowly pacing, 
 Winter Rouellb is discovered. T'ne music of fife ani drum is heard in 
 the distance. 
 
 Rou Dear night is come, and nothing works amiss, 
 Fur the ass in quiet sleeps, but the fox is free. 
 Would that the time were come to track my course — 
 'Tis time I heard from Roger ; I bade him enter camp soon 
 
 after me. 
 Ah, sergeant, stay, I'd speak with you. 
 
 Enter Sergeant. 
 
 You passed the tent of Colonel Barratier, I think. 
 Serg Yes, Captain ; it was noised among us 
 
 That Roger Delman had returned from t'other side, 
 
 And I went there to meet him, as he left the Colonel. 
 Rou His mission, I hope, has not proved fruitless. 
 Serg Alas, it has ; he brings no news of Claude. 
 Rou Poor youth, I fear that he is dead ! 
 
 And now must I lament another friend departed. 
 
 But the cause in which he died was noble, glorious. 
 
 What said the Colonel unto Delman ? 
 Serg He praised him for his bravery, and will promote him. 
 
 But see ; a horseman comes ; a friend, I'll wager, 
 
 For the boys shout welcome to him ; I'll join tliem, too. 
 
 [Exit Sergeant 
 Rou What means this ? — a courier, perchance, from headquarters. 
 
 Yes, for he alights before the Colonel's tent. 
 
 I would I knew his errand thilher. 
 
 Enter Roger Delman. 
 Rog [Aside\ Cursed fate, that I should stumble on ye here. 
 
38 WINTER ROUELLE. 
 
 Rou Whither so fast, good Koger ? 
 
 I've had an eye fixed on the passing scene. 
 
 Whither so fast, I say ? 
 Rog Then you know who's come ? 
 Rou No ; what means this frightful stare ? Speak ! 
 Rog Ask not me, but to horse, and fly, for all's up with us. 
 
 xind see ! — the Colonel leads him in, and the story' 11 soon 
 be told. 
 
 To horse, and fly ! 
 Rou From what ? A^e we discovered ? 
 
 Tell me, whom bear they in ? 
 Rog Let me go, and I'll tell you hereafter. 
 
 Damn you, let me go 1 
 Rou No common danger thus could move you, Roger. 
 
 But I'll have the truth from you 
 
 Speak ; is't Walter Barclay? 
 Rog Not now ; not now. 
 
 Rou Out with it, man, or I'll run you through. 
 Rog Not now, I say ; they'll be upon us soon. 
 Rou Come Barratier with all his men, 
 
 I'll fly not till I know my danger. 
 
 Is it Walter Barclay ? 
 » Rog No, 'tis— tis— Claude Hamilton! 
 Rou Claude Hamilton ! 
 
 Then down, false soul to black perdition ! 
 Rog No, not then — and hold ; would you kill me? 
 
 I'm your friend. 
 Rou But sought to leave me to my fate. 
 
 Death to such goodness, cries my honest sword. 
 
 Have at thee. 
 Rog Oh, I'm stabbed — I'm stabbed. [He falls. 
 
 Tis ever thus ; the band that eggs us on, will be the first 
 
 To strike the death-blow when we stumble. 
 Rou Cursed fate, ye have undone me. 
 
 Oh, fuol, fool was I to put my trust in him. 
 
 Yet ^Mve not o'er, ambitious hope, for by the gods, I swear, 
 ye are not vain. 
 
 I'll to horse and to the Hall, and wreaking vengeance on the 
 
 spy. 
 
 Fly o'er the river with my love. 
 
 Revenge, keep heart and be daunted not 
 
 Till I have turned thy misery to bliss ! \Exit. 
 
 A shouting within. Enter Officers and Soldiers. 
 
 Offi Where are the traitors? hunt them down. 
 Sol Death to them ; death to them — where are they? 
 Serg 1 left him here before his tent ; let's look within. 
 Rog Comrades, look no further ; he is not there. 
 Serg Who speaks ? who is this ? 
 
WlNTEtl ROUELLfe. 39 
 
 Rog Delman now ; a spirit soon, 
 
 For I have got the stab that speeds it. 
 
 Enter Claude Hamilton. 
 
 Clau It is Delman's voice I hear. Roger, where is Claybrook ? 
 Rog Hark ye, Claude — the chill night air 
 
 Bears a faint sound towards us from the North. 
 
 Dost hear it ? 
 Clau Aye, 'tis the clatter of hoofs. 
 Rog Your enemy has flown ; 'tis Claybrook bound for the Hall, 
 
 Where Marion and Barclay are imprisoned 
 Clau Friends and comrades, come, to horse with me and pursue 
 
 him. 
 Sold Aye, let's all to horse with him. 
 
 Come, boys come. [Exit men. 
 
 Offi Hold, Claude ; what would you do ? 
 
 You cannot keep your saddle. 
 Clau Good friend, aside ; I'll on his course aiain. 
 
 For while I live, I'll live fur my country and my friends. 
 
 [Exit Claude. 
 Offi How is it with you, Roger ? 
 
 Ha, that ghastly face — Tie is dead. 
 
 SCENE II. — Marion Hamilton in the attitude of anxious Expectation, 
 standing nejr the door of her chamber. 
 
 Mar The soimd of revelry has ceased, but Adam does not come. 
 Alas, I fear the stratagem has failed : oh, what shall 1 do ? 
 I'll venture forth and learn u)y destiny. 
 Stay, there's a hasty step upon the landing. 
 Perchance 'tis Walter. 
 
 E7iter Winter Rouelle. 
 
 Ron Dear one, be not amazed 
 
 Mar Oh, why have you come here, sir ? 
 
 Rou Why ? — todoat upon thy face, dear love, and clasp thee, thus. 
 
 Mar Oh, Heaven, protect me now. 
 
 Rou Aye, and quickly, or it is too late. 
 
 Now come with me, chaste beauty, come ; 
 
 I'm here to take thee to Virginia's sacred soil, 
 
 And even now our boat lies waiting near ; come, I say, 
 
 Nay, but do not scream, for who can save thee now ? 
 
 Enter Walter Barclay, sword in hand. 
 
 Wal False-hearted villain, I— I am her champion ! 
 Rou Ha, cursed spy, and is it thou ? — Let's to it, then. 
 
 [They fight. Rouelle is wounded and staggers backward. 
 
40 WINTER ROUELLE. 
 
 Wal Are you conquered ? 
 
 Rou My heart still beats ; I'll to it again. 
 
 \He receives a death-blow and falls. 
 Revenge, revenge ! time hath put his sickle at thy throat, 
 And oh, the end of thy desires ye have not seen. 
 
 JEnter Claude and Goodman, Mrs Barclay and Nellie. 
 
 Rou Ha, 'tis Claude ! — he shall to death with me. 
 
 [He regains his sword, and, vjorking his way forward, mskes a pass at 
 Claude, who keeps him at hay^until he falls again. 
 
 Rou I hate, I cuise thee, all ! — 
 
 Oh, these pangs ; Death strikes me with his dart. 
 
 How dark it is aronnd — 
 
 Back ! back, ye cursed fiends ; I am not yet undone ! 
 
 [He dies. 
 
 THE END.