3 & 
 
 ¥^ 
 
 rD UTY 
 
 OR 
 
 LOVE km JEALOUSY. 
 
 islorwa! firatwa 
 
 OF THE D A-Y S F 
 
 Tho Stuart IiLsurrection of 1745. 
 
 / 
 
 By Charles M. Caughy, 
 
 OF BALTIMORE. 
 
 BALTIMOKE: 
 
 Printed by John Murphy & Co 
 
 182 Baltimore Street. 
 
 1873. 
 
DUTY 
 OR 
 
 LOVE Am JEALOUSY. 
 
 AN 
 
 i^!0rkiil flrattta 
 
 or THE DAYS OF 
 
 The Stuart Insurrection of 1745. 
 
 \/ 
 
 By Charles M. Caughy, 
 
 OF BALTIMORE. 
 
 BALTIMOKE; 
 
 Printed by John Murphy & Co. 
 
 182 Baltimore Street. 
 
 1873. 
 

 Cy 
 
 ^ 
 
 entmb arroriiing I0 ^rt of Conjjrfss, in i\t star 1873, bg 
 
 Chakles M. CAUaHT, 
 IB i\t ®ffi« of ll^J |;ibrnnan of Conjjirtss, at Saasl&ington. 
 
 The undersigned having complied with all the re- 
 quirements of the Copyright laws, Managers wishing 
 to negociate will address 
 
 CHARLES M. CAUGHT, 
 
 165 W. Baltimore street, 
 
 Baltimore, Md. 
 
 T«P92-008aU 
 
DUTY 
 
 OR 
 
 LOVE AND JEALOUSY. 
 
 Time or the Play — 1745. 
 Dramatis Personee. 
 
 LEWIS MUKKAY, Earl of Strathroy. 
 
 SIR MALCOLM OLIPHANT. 1 
 
 SERGEANT COUPLAND. / 
 
 DE. FAIRLIE. 
 
 COLONEL STRANG. 
 
 General Kerr. 
 
 Captain Lawrence Spence. 
 
 Neil Johnstone. 
 
 Sergeant Ryan, 
 
 Corporal Hodge. 
 
 Guard on board ship "Tiger." 
 
 ' ' "Willie-want-a-bit. " 
 
 Geordie. 
 
 LADY MARGARET OLIPHANT. 1 
 
 MRS. MALCOLM. I 
 
 MAGGIE, A Scotch Lass. J 
 
 Agnes Murray. 
 
 Mrs. McNeil. 
 
 Tenantry, Soldiers, Servants, &c., &c. 
 
 gcene of Play — Scotland. 
 
ACT I. 
 
 Scene I. — Hall of the Ca>ile of Elvanlee. Suits of ancestral armor 
 hanging round the walls. On a pedestal at each side a cort^plete suit 
 of Knight's ar77ior, ivith visor down, and a long spear grasped in 
 the mailed hand. The windows are small. Door in C. r. practical. 
 On the right is a large Jire-j)lace with fire. The room is inchly 
 furnished in more modern desig'>s than the general surroundings. 
 As the scene ojyens Sir Malcolm Oliphant, Dr. Fairlie, Ser- 
 geant Kyan and Neil Johnstone, discovered. Dr. Fairlie at 
 wi7idow, R. 
 
 Ryan. [Delivering dispatches.) From the Lord President, your 
 Honor 
 
 Sir Mai. 'Tis well. {Readitig.) Johnstone, have a horse saddled 
 and see the messenger well bestowed. 
 
 [Exeunt Johnstone and Ryan, l. 1 e.) 
 
 Dr. Fair. Well, what says our friend. President Forbes? 
 
 Sir Mai. [Sighing.) The dispatches are of the highest importance. 
 The Chevalier's standard has been raised at Glenfinnan. The clans 
 are flocking round it, and have already succeeded in capturing a 
 detachment of the Inverness garrison. Gen. Cope marched north- 
 ward a week ago ; and I am directed to follow him with what men I 
 can muster. 
 
 Dr. Fair. [Tapping his snnff-hox.) That sounds serious. 
 
 Sir Mai. Fairlie, it sounds to me like the doom of my happiness. 
 
 Dr. Fair. Hoots ! nonsense, man. Because you have to separate 
 before your honey-moon has lost its glamour ; so much the better 
 for your notion of a honey-moon. But what then? You'll be home 
 again, and enjoy a second one for the valiant service you have done 
 your country, in driving these highland fanatics back to their moun- 
 tains. 
 
 Sir Mai. You forget, Doctor, how awkwardly I am placed. The 
 man who unfurled the Pretender's Standard, and who is loudest in 
 proclaiming the Stuarts' right to the throne, is my wife's father — 
 Strathroy. 
 
 Dr. Fair. The ould fire-eater! He was out in "15," and was 
 luckier than some of his comrades in getting otf with his head. 
 
 Sir Mai. His devotion to the cause of the Stuarts ; his mad enthu- 
 siasm will only be satisfied in death. 
 
 Dr. Fair. Well, you can't help that. 
 
 Sir Mai. Nay, but I suffer for it all the same. You know how 
 he scoffed me for my adhesion to the Government. You know with 
 what vengeance he menaced Margaret, when he learned that her 
 love for me had proven more potent than her fear of his commands, 
 and that she had become my wife. But all that did not make her 
 love him less ; and the thought that his fanaticism caused her to 
 disobey him pains her to the heart. 
 
 1 5 
 
6 LOVE AND JEALOUSY. [ACT I. 
 
 Dr. Fair. You prove yourself worthy of her, and she will have 
 the less to regret. ( Using snvff.) 
 
 Sir Mai. Ay, but now when she hears that the Chevalier's friends 
 have risen ; when she is told that her father stands, sword in hand, 
 on one side, and her husband on the other — Oh ! man, think what 
 torture, what agony she will endure every moment this hideous 
 strife continues. Oh ! would to heaven there were any honest means 
 by which I could shun this duty that is thrust upon me. 
 
 Dr. Fair. That's nae possible ; and I would warn you to take 
 heed how yovi speak of this business. Kemember you are married to 
 the daughter of Strathroy, the Jacobite, and your ancestors have 
 belonged to the Jacobite side ; these arc reasons enough for suspect- 
 ing you are tarred with the same stick. That is why Forbes has 
 been in such haste to compromise you by engaging you at the outset 
 in active service for the house of Hanover. 
 
 Sir Mai. And that is another reason for my desire to avoid the 
 service. My father, and his fathers, since ever the Oliphants of 
 Elvanlee have held a place in Scotland, have given their best blood 
 for the Stuarts' cause. The past makes me seem in my. own eyes — 
 ay, in the eyes of others — a renegade. The past makes me think of 
 Charle3 Edward with respect and affection, and even now, if I could 
 save him one moment of the pain and disappointment to which I see 
 him advancing, I would gladly give him my life and fortune. 
 Dr. Fair. This is treason ! 
 
 Sir Mai. Peace, man, and hear me out. I would give all I possess 
 to help the Chevalier, but the result of his invasion will be a reckless 
 waste of human life, a reckless shower of misery upon our poor coun- 
 try, which must end in his degraded flight or wretched death. The 
 sooner he is satisfied that this is the inevitable climax, the less harm 
 he will do ; for 1 believe him to be an honest gentleman, who would 
 not ruthlessly sacrifice those who love him. Therefore, with a sad 
 heart, I am for King George. 
 
 Dr. Fair. For heaven's sake, man, see that you never speak in 
 this fashion again. I hope nobody else heard you enow. It would 
 be enough to condemn you to be hanged, drawn, and quartered, not 
 to speak of the confiscation of all your estates.' 
 
 Sir Mai. Have no fear on that score. To you I can speak freely. 
 To all others I am silent. But enough of that. I have a task for 
 vou. Margaret has not yet been told how I am placed, but it would 
 
 be cruelty to conceal it from her 
 
 Dr, Fair. Quite correct. You had better tell her immediately. 
 [Starts to go.) 
 
 Sir Mai. Stop. I want you to help me, by breaking to her the 
 news of our departure. 
 
 Dr. Fair. Me ! I could nae do it. 
 
 Sir Mai. You must. Doctor. What I have to say, will disturb 
 her less, when she has obtained some knowledge of my position from 
 vou. I charge you, on your friendship, aid me to make this blow fall 
 as lightly upon her as may be. 
 
 Dr. Fair. Is there anything particularly saft about my head or 
 body ? because you seem to think I was made for no other purpose 
 than to be a trumpeter of ill-news, and it's a nasty job. 
 
SCENE I.] LOVE AND JEALOUSY. 7 
 
 .S7/- MoL Nay, Fairlie, for my sake e;o and break the news to her 
 while I bestow these papers in the Library. 
 
 [Enters Library ^ C. r.) 
 
 [Enter Yillagers, and Strathroy disguised^ R. 1 E.) 
 
 Mrs. McNeil. [To Dr. Fairlie, who is about to go out.) Oh! 
 Doctor my Geordie, my laddie has wandered amang the wild brutes 
 of horses tethered on the hillside. Will naebody save my bairn ? 
 (Margaret ajjpears passing the icindoro, leading the child by the hand, 
 and enters the room, L. 2 e.) 
 
 Mar. Yes ; here he is safe and sound. 
 
 Mrs. McNeil. God be merciful to your Ladyship. Ye hae saved 
 my bairn. [Shouts from crowd.) 
 
 Mar. There, there, friends ; you are overloading me with grati- 
 tude. The child is unhurt, and so am I, and that is satisfaction 
 enough for me. Go all of ye and drink the laddie's health ; and 
 you, Mistress McNeil, see that he never gets in such a scrape again. 
 
 Mrs. McNeil. I hope he'll never be in sic danger again, my Lady, 
 unless it be to serve you, and may ye never be in need sic a service. 
 
 Mar. That is a sensible prayer, Mrs. McNeil. I hope it may be 
 granted for your boy's sake as well as my own. [To Dr. Fairlie, 
 who has been e.xamining the child.) Well, Doctor, is he hurt? 
 
 Dr. Fair. It's a miracle, but he has not been touched. 
 
 Mar I thought so ; for the poor horses, frightened as they were 
 by the noise our friends were making, lifted every foot as daintily 
 as they feared as much to hurt him, as we did that they would kill 
 him. "^Come to me before you go home, and I will give you some- 
 thing to help Geordie remember this day. 
 
 Mrs. McNeil. Thanks, my Lady. Now, Geordie, baud your 
 hands up, clasped that way, as when you say your prayers, and say 
 wi a 3^our heart: " Lord bless your Ladj'^ship, and keep sorrow frae 
 your door." 
 
 Geordie. [All hands hneel reverently, with uncovered heads.) " Lord 
 bless your Ladyship, and keep sorrow frae your door." 
 Vill. Amen. 
 
 Mrs. McNeil. Now one more prayer, Geordie. " God bless King 
 George.''^ (Strathroy puts on his hat, stands covered and erect, 
 while all the others kneel. " Willie- wan t-a-bit " tears the hat 
 from his head, which angers Strathroy, but he recovers himself ; 
 gives him, a shilling and takes his hat.) 
 
 Geordie. " God bless King George." 
 
 Vill. Amen. [Exeunt Villagers, r. 1 e.) 
 
 Enter Sir Malcolm /rom the Library, c. r., the door of which he 
 fastens, but leaves the key in the lock. He carries his sword in his 
 hand, but at the sight of Margaret, he places it on the table, and 
 advances to her.) 
 
 Sir Mai. What has been the stir in here? Ah, Madge, you have 
 been in it. 
 
 Dr. Fair. Yes, and was likely to remain in it forever, at one time. 
 
8 LOVE AND JEALOUSY. [ACT I. 
 
 Sir Mai. What was it ? You are both excited. 
 
 Mar. Oh ! nothing, Malcolm. 
 
 Dr. Fair. Nothing? [Using snu^-hox.) On my soul, Sir, it was 
 a sight to make a cynic respect her Ladyship's sex. You shall have 
 a true account of it frae me, Sir. Twenty furious horses 
 
 Mar. (Interruptinff.) Nay! flatterer, you shall not be permitted 
 to make me blush for a single act of kindness. I'll tell Malcolm. 
 Mrs. McNeil's boy wandered among the horses; I managed to drag 
 him safely out of his predicament. That was all. There was no 
 danger, at least I was not sensible of any ; so there is no need to 
 think of horrors that did not happen. 
 
 Sir Mai. It was rash in you, Madge. Rash as you always are 
 where your heart tempts j-ou to help or comfort another. Think, I 
 might liave lost you. 
 
 Mar. And that poor mother might have lost her bairn. My 
 rashness is of small account balanced against her happiness. You, 
 Doctor, would have done the same had you been there in time. 
 "Would you not? 
 
 Dr. Fair. {Using snaff-hox.) Eh — well, maybe, maybe I might 
 hae done it. There is no knowing what wonders a mari might do. 
 But I am quite sure I would not had I been a xcoman. 
 
 Mar. Tie, Doctor. You would think less of my act if you did 
 not think so much of your own sex. You men are so selfish that you 
 reserve all the grander virtues for yourselves. Courage, strength, 
 endurance, fidelity even, you fancy reach their highest perfection in 
 manhood ; and we poor slaves, who are incapable of such noble im- 
 pulses, must stand by, and raise our eyes in all humility to the great 
 creatures whose nobility we must admire, but may not emulate. 
 
 Dr. Fair. I never said that. 
 
 Mar. Confess now. Doctor, and you too Malcolm, that you believe 
 it is only men Avho can be heroic. But let me tell you, a faithful 
 woman's life is in itself heroic. You keep to yourselves all opportu- 
 nities, all the work in the doing of which heroes are made, and then 
 you think us disqualified because we do not keep pace with you. Yet 
 I would lay my life there are more men made heroes by a circum- 
 stance, than there are xcomen who are not heroines, although they 
 lack your opportunities. The one happens to get his light placed 
 atop a powder barrel, and the powder does the rest; the other has 
 her light hid from the world by the four walls of home. . 
 
 Sir Mai. Doctor answer that. I wont try. 
 
 Dr. Fair. [Offering snuff-box.) Madame, I surrender my sword, 
 and henceforth, on your authority, shall look upon every woman as 
 a hero. 
 
 Mar. [Laughingly.) Beaten. 
 
 Dr. Fair. Crushed, and not able to wag a finger in my own de- 
 fence. 
 
 Mar. Then, Sir, you shall be sentenced to marnage within a year. 
 
 Dr. Fair. [Horrified.) Mercy, no ! Have some pity, or I shall 
 die in the anticipation. At least wait till we get out of this cursed 
 
 rebel [inter riipted by a quick sign from Sir Malcolm.) But I 
 
 must leave you. There is a patient below waiting me. 
 
 [Exit Dr. Fairlie, boiving^ L. 2 e.) 
 
SCENE I.] LOVE AND JEALOUSY. 9 
 
 Sir Mai. [Taking her hand.) You should have been a man, 
 Madge. 
 
 Mar. [Sharijly.) I am content to be a woman, Malcolm, for your 
 sake. 
 
 Sir Mai. Thank heaven you are so. Ah, wife, there are moments 
 when the ardor of our wooing days, intensified by the knowledge 
 that you are all my own now, makes me feel as if I could almost 
 sacrifice honor for your sake 
 
 Mar. What a droll notion ! Sacrifice honor for my sake ? "Why 
 then you would sacrifice me too; for I think, Malcolm, the hus- 
 band's honor is the wife's safeguard. 
 
 Sir Mai. You are right, Madge, you are right. 
 
 Mar. You are in one of your melancholy humors to-day, which 
 have been-so frequent of late, that I have begun to fancy \pauses.) 
 
 Sir Mai. Fancy what, Madge? 
 
 Mar. Shall I tell you? Well they have made me fancy that our 
 honey-moon was drawing to a close, and that we wore beginning to 
 settle down into the sober common place of wedded life— when the 
 wife becomes a sort of superior housekeeper, and her lord grows too 
 husj with the grave details of his affairs to spend one-half hour in 
 the interchange of the little nothings which make a lover's days so 
 short and happy. 
 
 Sir Mai. [(Quickly.) You are mistaken, Madge, our honey-moon 
 shall never end. 
 
 Mar. [Laughingly.) There spoke the lover and not the staid- 
 minded husband. But I'll punish you, Sir, by holding you to your 
 word, [jilacing a chair for hi7n, and a stool for herself ,)^ and I'll at 
 once assume the authority which a woman possesses before she has 
 spoken the fatal "yes," with which she abdicates the throne of love, 
 and becomes one of its humblest slaves. So sit 3'ou there [he obeys) 
 and I'll sit here. That is right. Now I feel myself a person of some 
 importance while I am looking in your face, and reading there 
 
 Sir Mai. That I love you, Madge. 
 
 Mar. [Kissing him.) No Sir, but I read there that j'ou know 
 how much another person cares for you. Oh ! Malcolm, tell me 
 what is the meaning of the moody fits that so trouble you of late? 
 What is the meaning of your repeated visits to Edinburgh ; of the 
 couriers constantly passing to and fro? And last of all, what is the 
 meaning of the sudden gathering of the tenantry, and the turning 
 out of all the old armor that has been rusting since the sad rising of 
 " 15? " [Excitedly.) Answer me, why is it, how is it and what isit ? 
 
 Sir. Mai. [Aside ) The crisis has come at last. I am going to 
 startle you, Madge; I am going to leave j^ou. [Eises.) 
 
 Mar. Leave me? [Rising.) 
 
 Sir Mai. Ay, but onh^ for a little while, I trust. I have been like 
 a coward trying to hide it from you, but you must learn it now. 
 
 Mar. Where are you going, and why may I not go with you? 
 
 Sir Mai. To war. The Chevalier has raised his standard in the 
 North ; he is supported b}" a few fanatical chiefs and their followers, 
 and I am commanded to march, with what forces I can muster, to 
 join Gen. Cope. 
 
 Mar. Ah! [Ahni2')tly ) And you obey? 
 1* 
 
10 LOVE AKD JEALOUSY. [ACT I. 
 
 Sir Mai. I must. There is no alternative save obedience or dis- 
 honor. Do you blame me ? 
 
 Mar. No ; I dare not blame you ; but, Oh ! Malcolm, remember 
 in what traditions I have been educated. The right of the Stuarts 
 was the faith of my fathers — ay, of yours. The misfortunes of the 
 Stuarts were theirs also. They followed the Stuarts for good or ill, 
 with loyal and unflinching fidelity ; they suffered with them, they 
 died for them. Kemember that, and you will not be angry with me, 
 if for a moment my heart is oppressed with the thought that this 
 strife is an unhallowed one. 
 
 Sir Mai. (Sadly.) My allegiance is pledged to the King. My 
 honor is at stake, and even were it otherwise, I know this mad rising 
 is only the last faint glimmer of a setting sun. When the darkness 
 falls the too faithful adherents of the Stuarts' cause will be homeless 
 exiles, or mangled corses on a bloody field. Widowed mothers, and 
 fatherless bairns will be crying piteously for the shelter and bread 
 which has been cruelly torn from them in the vain effort to maintain 
 a hopeless cause. Let us save as many of them as we can. 
 
 Mar. Forgive me, Malcolm, I did not mean to question the jus- 
 tice of your cause. I know it must be wise and just, since you have 
 chosen it. But the danger- — - 
 
 Sir Mai. You must not think of it. You must forget every thing 
 save to be happy. 
 
 Mar. I can forget every thing when you are near me. Forget 
 even that you are the enemy of the cause for which my brother died, 
 and to which my father has devoted his life and fortune. Serve 
 what cause you will, T am your wife, Malcolm, and your faith shall 
 be mine ; your hopes, your aspirations, aye your crimes, I will share 
 them all. 
 
 ^/7' Mai. You give me strength, wife, and courage. But there 
 must be no more regrets, no more tears. 
 
 Mar. None ; {xoiping her eyes ;) that is all over now. I am the 
 soldier's wife, ready to look calmly in the face of death. You shall 
 see how resolute I can be, for (buckling his sivord around him) with 
 my own hand will I buckle on your sword. 
 
 Sir Mai. That is bravely done, Margaret. Y^ou will think of me 
 when I am away ? 
 
 Mar. Ay, Malcolm, very often. 
 
 Sir Mai. Oh wife I wife ! mine is a jealous love. Y^ou are so precious 
 to me that I am like a miser ; I fear to let others see my treasure lest 
 they rob me of it. I am selfish too, and grudge ever}^ smile that is 
 not given to me. While away from you, I shall envy the stars be- 
 cause they may look on you ; I shall envy the sun, because his light 
 shines on you. This is weak and I know it; but you are so dear to me 
 I seem to have no strength that is not inspired by your presence. 
 Within the last few days, somehow, my love has made a coward of 
 me, and, like a child in the dark, the vague shadows of my own vague 
 fears frighten me. 
 
 Mar. [Kissing him.) I like to hear you talk that way, Malcolm; 
 but we have changed places within the last few minutes. It is you 
 who are weak now, and I am strong. 
 
 Sir Mai. There is something else, Madge 
 
SCENE I.] LOVE AND JEALOUSY. 11 
 
 Mar. Well ? 
 
 Sir Mai. There is something Fairlie has to tell you. I'll send 
 him up. Be sure you do not let any one enter the library. I will be 
 with you in half an hour. (Margaret throws herself in chair near 
 table, and appears to be in deep reverie. Sir Malcolm turns to leave, 
 xohen he encoiinters Fairlie, l. 2 e.) Ah, here is the Doctor. I've 
 met you most opportunely. Be gentle with her, Doctor, for pity's 
 sake. {Exit Sir Malcolm, l. 2 Ie.) 
 
 Dr. Fair. {Taking snuff.) Gentle, humph ! The heart's a deli- 
 cate piece of anatomy to operate on. She looks bad eno' as it is. 
 Confound him, why did he not tell her the whole affair'at once, and 
 
 not make two bites of a d d sour cherry. {Advances a little, halts, 
 
 helps himself to a pincJi of snxiff.) I suppose he expects me to soften 
 the eftect, while he escapes her appeal to him to shun the whole busi- 
 ness. I am to approach her with this bludgeon of news in one hand, 
 and a bolus in the other, saying, "Madame, my compliments. 
 I've come to knock you down with this, and set you up again with 
 that." {Advajicinq and looking steadily towards her.) I can't do it, 
 I won't do it, and I'll go and tell him so. {As he is about to go 
 out, Margaret hears him.) 
 
 Mar. Dr. Fairlie, Elvanlee said you had something to tell me. 
 
 Dr. Fair. Ahem — well, yes — there was a matter I wanted — that 
 is he wanted — but, give me your hand. {Feeling her pulse.) Gallop- 
 ing like a wnld colt, fever imminent. Body o'me, it's dangerous to 
 say a word. 
 
 Mar. Doctor, speak ; whatever you have to say cannot be worse 
 than the dread of the calamity with which your hesitation over- 
 whelms me. 
 
 Dr. Fair. {Using snuff' box.) Madame, I can sugar my pills, but 
 cannot sugar my words. Still, pills and words come to the same eifect 
 in the end, whether sugared or not. But you'll promise to bear it 
 like a man — I mean like a w^oman who is fit to be a hero? 
 
 Mar. Yes— yes — anything ; only spare me this suspense. 
 
 Dr. Fair. Then make ready — present — fire ! Your fother is out 
 with the Chevalier, and it was he who raised the standard at Glen- 
 finnan. (Margaret gives a fai^it cry and staggers in his arms.) 
 There, vou are going to faint. Kemember every woman is a hero. 
 Shall I fetch your salts ? 
 
 Mar. There, I am better. Thank you. "What was it you said ? 
 My father out with the Chevalier? Oh ! Doctor, this will be a cruel 
 war. I see the horror of it all ; my father here, \\-\j husband there, 
 they will meet; there will be no time for any thought of me — and 
 oh, merciful heaven, my hands girt on the sword that will be turned 
 against my father^ s breast. {Paces np and down excitedly.) 
 
 Dr. Fair. What in the name of ^sculapius shall I say to comfort 
 her. {Nervously using his S7mff-box.) You exaggerate. You alarm 
 yourself needlessly. The chances are that they will never meet, 'f.nd 
 
 if they do I'll undertake they'll both run away; or d — n it, I'll 
 
 make them swallow my medicine chest, instruments and all. 
 
 Mar. They must not meet ; it is an unnatural strife, and no man 
 is degraded who flees it. There is yet time for Malcolm to escape to 
 Holland ; there he will be safe from this hateful struggle. Summon 
 
12 LOVE AND JEALOUSY. [ACT I. 
 
 him to me, Doctor, and you will add your counsel to my prayers. 
 Call him to me quick ! quick ! 
 
 Dr. Fair. Yes, yes ; but I cannot leave you in this excited state. 
 {Goes to the loindow^ L. C, and looks out.) 1 don't see Elvanlee, but 
 yonder is Neil. I have beckoned to him. He will find him, 
 
 [Enter Neil Johnstone, l. 1 e., and behind him Strathroy, dis- 
 guised as a c/nherlunzie^ with a slonchi7ig gait and restless, watching 
 eyes. Dr. 'Fairlie observes him.) 
 
 Dr. Fair. Well, my man, what are you doing here? 
 
 Strath. Ye made a'^sign, maister, and I thought ye wanted some- 
 body. 
 
 Dr. Fair. So I did ; but not you. So go down to the court ; you 
 will find every thing you need there. (Turns his back on him, and 
 Strathroy, instead of going out, shuffles over to the mantle piece near 
 Margaret.) Kun for your Master, Neil, and tell him her Ladyship 
 desires to speak with him instantly. (Exit Johnstone, l. 1 e. Dr. 
 Fairi.ie seei^ig Strathroy has not left the room ) Now, sir, you can 
 go. I've told vou we don-t want you. 
 
 Strath. (Warming his hands at the fire.) Ay, Maister, soon 
 agoing. (A shout in the yard attracts 'Fairlie's attention to the 
 window. Strathroy bends quickly over, and says m a low tone to 
 Margaret :) " Get him out of the way, I must speak to you alone." 
 (This startles Margaret, loho hardly siqypresses a scream when Fair- 
 LIK turns from window) 
 
 Dr. Fair. It is Elvanlee addressing the folk ; I believe there is 
 not one among them who would not die for him. 
 
 Mar. Will you go and bring him to me. Doctor? 
 
 Dr. Fair. At your pleasure, Madame. (T^o Strathroy.) Eh— - 
 what? You not gone yet? On my soul, sir, you are the most obsti- 
 nate bluegown I'have ever seen. Come, right about face — march. 
 (Strathroy starts towards the door, l , steadily watching Mar- 
 garet.) 
 
 j^far. I— I have a message for this man. Doctor. Let him stay. 
 
 Dr. Fair. Oh, if he's part of the establishment, that's all right; 
 but (taking snuf) I'm not altogether sure he's an ornament to it. 
 However you know him, and that's enough. (Exit Fairlie, l. 2 e., 
 eying Strathroy suspiciously. As soon as he j^nsses out, Strathroy 
 springs foi'ivard, closes and bars the door, and then throws off his dis- 
 guise.) 
 
 Mar. Father! what madness, what reckless disregard of your own 
 safety has prompted you to visit this place ? 
 
 Strath. (Harshly.) I have come to see my daughter, and find 
 she gives my first visit a poor welcome. 
 
 Mar. What welcome can I give you here, now, and at this time, 
 until I know whether you are come as friend or foe ? 
 
 Strath. I come as the friend of all true men and women. I come 
 as the implacable foe of all knaves and traitors who would take arms 
 for the usurping house of Hanover against their lawful King, James 
 Stewart. 
 
 Mar. Hush ! hush ! do not speak so loud, since you come as my 
 husband's foe — and mine. 
 
SCENE I.] LOVE AND JEALOUSY. 13 
 
 Strath. I am sorry for that. 
 
 Mar. You do not speak as if you cared. Oh, are men turned to 
 demons ! Is there no longer any pity or mercy in the world, that 
 the dear ties of kindred, which should give happiness, are changed to 
 W'hips that scourge most fierce the fondest hearts. 
 
 Strath. The whips are made by those they lash. 
 
 Mar. Am I to blame for your^^position now ? Be merciful to me, 
 father. In your exile I was faithful to you; through long years 
 of privation^ I tried to soothe your sorrow^ ; from my childhood all 
 my thoughts were given to you and my sister 
 
 \Strath. Until Malcolm Oliphant of Elvanlee came, and then you 
 forgot every thing else — duty to me, and respect for those principles 
 of ioj-alty which are dearer to me than life. 
 
 Mar. 'There is a greater loyalty, ftither, than that we owe to 
 kings — the loyalty we give to those we love. But you first brovight 
 Malcolm to our house, and you consented to our marriage. It was 
 not until he refused to join a conspiracy against the government of 
 his country, that you forbade our union. Your demand came too 
 late, and we disobeyed it. For that one act of disobedience am I not 
 cruelly punished ? " You stand opposed to Malcolm in the fiercest 
 enmity, and the eflfect of all your wrath and all his hate fall upon 
 me, who stands between you, helpless, yet loving both. 
 
 Strath. It w^ould have been otherwise had Oliphant been true to 
 the faith of his fathers. 
 
 Mar. He is true to the interests of his country, believing it of less 
 consequence who occupies the throne, than that the people should 
 have peace. But, father, whether he is right or wrong, why should 
 there be this bitterness between us? {Throwlnci her arms around his 
 neck.) A little while ago, Avhen I learned you were in the insur- 
 gent's ranks, I was about to implore Malcolm to desert the post 
 w^hich had been thrust upon him, lest evil fortune should bring you 
 together in the strife. But now I turn to you first. {Falling on her 
 knees.) You appeal to the justice of your cause; I appeal to your 
 love, and in the name of the sacred memory of my mother I beseech 
 you to desist from this struggle, and to remember only the links that 
 should bind us together ; let kings and governments fight as they 
 may. (Strathroy has become so moved during this appeal that he 
 sinks in a chair.) 
 
 Strath. You spoke so like your mother, child, that I think you 
 would have won my consent to anything but this. 
 
 Mar. And this 'is everything. It is your happiness and Mal- 
 colm's I desire. 
 
 Strath. {Shaking his head.) Happiness cannot be purchased at 
 such a price. Desert the cause? (Margaret tu7^ns her face awag 
 from him, sighing.) See how white these hairs have grown in 
 'his service. You see this scar? It was received in his service 
 thirty years ago. I sacrificed for him, then, fortune, friends, 
 home and every thing, yet I regret nothing. Can you expect me 
 now to sympathize ^vith those who hesitate to make the same sac- 
 rifice? 
 
 Mar. But times are changed father. No sacrifice now will serve 
 your purpose. 
 
14 LOVE AND JEALOUSY. [ACT I. 
 
 Strath. "We will put it to the test, come what may. I will never 
 cease to hope. You remember your brother : my bonnie brave- 
 hearted Frank? You know how I toiled to fit him for service for 
 the king? How I devoted his life to it, so that when I was gone 
 the work might be carried on by one as faithful as myself? He 
 ventured from our exile, on a secret mission to England. He was 
 seized by the usurper's spies, submitted to the mockery of a trial, 
 and hanged like a common felon. AVhen the tidings came to us, you 
 saw no tears in my eyes, no grief in my face, and yet I loved him. 
 He had died for the cause, and I was content. Were my faith now 
 shaken, my heart would wither with the thought I had Frank's 
 death to answer for. I dare not think of that. 
 
 Mar. Forget the past, father. 
 
 Strath. (Strathroy gazes vacantly and does 7iot notice her inter- 
 ruption.) Frank gone — Malcolm Oliphant appeared, and I hoped to 
 find in him one who would replace my son in fidelity to the cause 
 of our master. When that hope was dispelled, I spurned him from 
 me even when your happiness was at stake. That too, I was pre- 
 pared to sacrifice for the cause. There is no tie that I would not 
 break, no deed I would not do, for the purpose to which I have de- 
 voted all I possess. Knowing that., you ask me to desert, to be fore- 
 sworn ! No ; a life so full of sacrifice [reverently lifting his hat,) for 
 him, shall end, please heaven, in dying for the king. 
 
 Mar. Beware father, beware, if these words were heard a hun- 
 dred swords would be lifted against you. Oh ! is there no escape 
 from this torture ? 
 
 Strath. Yes, there is one, and it is chiefly for that reason I am here. 
 
 Mar. Tell me. 
 
 Strath. Leave this man who has proven himself unworthy of you. 
 Leave him at once, without a word of parting. I will carry you and 
 your sister Agnes to a place of safety, where you can abide the issue 
 of events. Come, I ofier j^ou forgiveness and safety. 
 
 Mar. Leave Malcolm ? Father, all the devotion you have shown, 
 all the sacrifice you have given to your king, all that and 7nore /owe 
 to my husband. I will not leave him. 
 
 Strath. You are resolved ? 
 
 Mar. As yourself. There is no power that can make me false to 
 him. 
 
 Strath. So be it. I have spoken the last to you I shall ever speak 
 as your father. Henceforth you and Oliphant are no more to me 
 than the other treacherous rebels of the land. 
 
 Mar. Father 
 
 Strath. Silence! You have chosen. Now where is Agnes? 
 Summon her to me. 
 
 Mar. [Going to door R. ayid calling .) Agnes. 
 
 Strath. You have tempted her to tarry here with you when her 
 place is with me. She has no bonds to keep her in the nest of 
 traitors, and she shall not remain another day. 
 
 [Enter Agnes, r. 2 e.) 
 Agnes. Well Madge, what in the world does all this clatter in the 
 court-yard mean? [Seeing Strathroy, hut not recognizing him till 
 he advances arid speaks to her.) 
 
SCENE I.] LOVE AND JEALOUSY. . 15 
 
 Strath. You have come to me, daughter, and I am grateful that 
 you are left to me, the last of all, who once claimed kindred. 
 
 Agnes. {Emhracing him.) You are here and safe ! Then you 
 have not joined the rising the Doctor was telling me about ? [Ex- 
 amining his dress.) Why do you come here in this ridiculous dress? 
 
 Strath. ^ You are mistaken, Agnes, I am not safe here : but I can- 
 not explain every thing now. Get your cloak; you must leave with 
 me instantly. 
 
 Agnes. Is Madge going ? 
 
 Strath. No ! she is no longer my daughter, no longer your sister. 
 She abides with those with whom it would be degradation for us to 
 associate. 
 
 Agnes. You are angry with her, father. You must not blame her 
 too much. She could not help loving Elvanlee. 
 
 Strath. [Contimdng.) Until I can give you a fitting home, I will 
 place you with the other gentlewomen of our party, the wives and 
 daughters of honest men. 
 
 Agnes. Then you are out with the Chevalier ; and you want me 
 to leave Madge here, all alone. Oh Either, don't ask nie to do that! 
 I am better with her than with strangers, and she needs me. It 
 would be cruel to desert her. {Embracing Margaret.) 
 
 Strath. You too forsake me ! The autumn has come ; the leaves 
 drop from the tree, while gaunt and bare it fronts the whistling 
 blast. My son taken from me, my daughters desert me, and there is 
 no creature kin to me I need regret parting with. 
 
 Agnes. [Sobbing.) No, no, we do not forsake you'. [About to throw 
 her arms around him, but he repels her.) 
 
 Strath. You see me now only a weak old man, whose heart 
 tugs sorely for the afi'ection that is denied him. But that is over ! 
 You see me now a man, erect and firm as in other days, remember- 
 ing that all he loses is for his king. Farewell ! had you been . 
 men, my own hand would have punished your treason. [Sounds of 
 a drum without, Margaret springs to door and listens ) 
 
 Agnes, How wildly you talk ! Every word imperils your life. 
 
 Strath. [Calmly.) I am in a den of traitors, and I know my 
 danger. 
 
 Mar. You must escape, sir ; but you cannot go this way. I hear 
 Elvanlee's foot upon the stairs, [opening the door of the library,) in 
 here quick, till I can find an opportimity to set you free. [She 
 pushes Strathroy in, locks the door, and takes the key out. Just 
 as Agnes unbars the door. Sir Malcolm enters, l. 2 e.) 
 
 Sir Mai. You sent for me, Madge. I'll be at leisure presently. 
 The men are in capital spirits, and I want to get them formed in 
 soldier-like order before Colonel Strang arrives. ( Walks towards 
 library door, ayid not seeing the key seems to be looking for it. In the 
 rtieantime, Agnes starts at sound of the natne, and says to him.) 
 
 Agnes. Is it Colonel Henry Strang, you expect ? 
 
 Sir Mai. [Still sea7'ching.) Yes ! Have you met him ? 
 
 Agnes. Yes. He was often at our house in Rome, — that was 
 before you arrived. 
 
 Sir Mai. Then yovi will be glad to meet an old friend ? 
 
 Agnes. No ; for I do not like him. 
 
16 LOVE AND JEALOUSY. [ACT I. 
 
 Sir Mat. That's a pity. Where can the key be? I thought I 
 left it in the lock. 
 
 Agnes. {To Margaret, who is so busy ivatching Sir Malcolm 
 that she does not heed het\) Bid him beware of Strang. You know 
 our father suspected him of betraying poor Frank. I suspect him 
 still. He is a spiteful man, and because you repulsed him, he re- 
 venged himself on our brother. The malice may be turned against 
 your husband. Bid him beware. 
 
 3Iar. {To Malcolm.) Can you not speak to me for a few 
 moments, Malcolm ? 
 
 Sir Mai. Wait only a quarter of an hour, and I will be free till 
 the Colonel arrives. I must get the dispatches to give the order to 
 march. But I cannot find the key. It is droll ! 
 
 Agnes. (As if surprised.) I do not see it anywhere. 
 
 Mar. {Impulsively.) Oh, Malcolm, I believe I have it. 
 
 Sir Mai. 1 thank you, Madge. It was thoughtful of you to re- 
 move it; I ought to have done so myself. {E.vit to Library. Agnes 
 listens at door. Margaret drops on sofa.) 
 
 Mar. Oh I why could I not confess all. The meeting I was striv- 
 ing to prevent has come, and I am helpless. I dare not wish for vic- 
 tory to either husband or father. {To Agnes.) Have you heard 
 anything yet ? 
 
 Agnes. No. They will remember us and stay their hands. {Noise 
 within as if a chair were ^tpset.) 
 
 Mar. Ah — Oh, my father is not coward enough to strike him 
 down without the chance of defence. Why are they so quiet ? This 
 silence deafens me. 
 
 Agnes. The door of the ante-room is opening now. 
 
 Mar. Quick, tell me, who is there ? I dare not look. 
 
 Agnes. It is Malcolm, unharmed; his sword is in its scabbard. 
 {As Malcolm enters^ Margaret turns^ and throics herself in his 
 arms ; his face is pale and Agnes gazes at him in horror.) 
 
 Sir Mai. (Huskily.) What has occurred to alarm you Margaret? 
 
 Mar. Nothing, mere fancy. I will tell you by and by, and 
 
 why are you so pale? Why are you trembling? 
 
 Sir Mai. Some one has been in the library. 
 
 Mar. Have you seen anybody ? 
 
 Sir Mai. No; but some miscreant has been there, and. Heaven 
 help us, we are betrayed and ruined. 
 
 Mar. Kuined ! What is it you mean ? 
 
 Sir Mai. The dispatches forwarded to me by President Forbes, 
 containing important matters, are gone. 
 
 Sir Mai. Ay, stolen. And with so many circumstances to render 
 the Government suspicious of my honesty, who will hesitate to say 
 I have played the knave ; since my neglect has placed within the 
 Chevalier's hands the information of which he stands most in need, 
 to enable him to outw^it our forces and guide him safely to Holyrood? 
 
 Mar. They will not dare to accuse you of such baseness. 
 
 Sir Mai. Dare ! They have the rights and they wall use it. The 
 dispatches should never have quitted my hands. I should have 
 
SCENE I.] LOYE AND JEALOUSY. 17 
 
 guarded them as a jewel as precious as you are, Madge. But why 
 count now what should have been done. They are gone ! My life 
 and honor are forfeit. 
 
 Mar. No one has passed through this chamber ; the thief must 
 be in the library still. 
 
 Sir Mai. No ; the window is open. He has escaped that way. 
 _ Mar. But he cannot have quitted the tower. It is only a m'inuto 
 since he was here. 
 
 Sir Mai. " Since he was here ? " Then you know the thief? 
 
 Mar. I do ! I do ! 
 
 Sir Mai. His name, and we may stay him yet. 
 
 Mar. My father. 
 
 Sir Mai. [Excitedly.) Strathroy ! It was with your connivance, 
 then ? 
 
 Mar. I feared a meeting between you, and, to prevent it, concealed 
 him in the library ; but you cannot believe I knew what was there ? 
 
 ;S7;' Mai. No, no, wife ! I do not doubt you. But he will carry 
 the dispatches straight to the Chevalier, and*^ my shame is complete, 
 if we fail to arrest him. {Ringing a handbell.) How was he 
 dressed ? 
 
 Mar. As a gaberlunzie, with blue gown, badge, and wallet. 
 
 Enter Neil Johnstone, l. 1 e. 
 
 Sir Mai. {To Neil.) Has any one left the tower in the last half 
 hour ? 
 
 Neil. No a body, sir. 
 
 Sir Mai. Have you not seen a gaberlunzie, with badge and wallet? 
 
 Neil. Od! ay, sir, I was na counting him. He came to me awhile 
 syne in the court, and showed me some papers that he telled me you 
 bade him carry to Edinburgh post haste, and he wanted a horse. 
 
 Sir Mai. Did you give him one? 
 
 Neil. I thought, nae doubt, it was for him ye bade me git a horse 
 saddled, so I gied him the brute that was standing ready. The auld 
 chield mounted like a jockey, and went off in a gallop. 
 
 Sir Mai. How long ago? 
 
 Neil. I would na just say ; but he will be five miles or mair 
 on his road by this time. You need na be feared, Maister, the auld 
 chield made a' the speed he could. 
 
 Sir Mai. Mount fifty men. "We will pursue him unto the 
 very ranks of the rebels, and — {Jie pauses abruptly, on seeing the 
 affrightened forins of Margaret and Agnes.) Wait, and I'll give 
 you further orders. {Sits at the table., and jwepiares to tcrite.) No, I 
 could not do that. No ; a thousand times rather my own shame, than 
 to become her father's executioner. {To Neil.) See the horses 
 saddled, and wait instructions. 
 
 {Exit Neil, l. 1 e. Sir Malcolm writes.) 
 
 Mar. Have you resigned the thought of pursuit? 
 
 Sir Mai. Yes. {Still tcriting.) 
 
 Mar. Oh ! Malcolm, this apparent neglect will only increase 
 your danger. 
 
 Sir Mai. It will save him. 
 2 
 
18 LOVE AND JEALOUSY. [ACT I. 
 
 Mar. And destroy you. 
 
 Sir Mai. He is yonr father. 
 
 Mar. They will show you no mercy. 
 
 Sir Mai. The man who neglects a trust deserves none. 
 
 Mar. Oh ! Malcolm, this must not be. There is one hope left. 
 I will go to the President. I will seek the Elector of Hanover, him- 
 self. I will tell them that you are innocent ; that it is your wife 
 and her father, Lewis, the proscribed Earl of Strathroy, who alone 
 are guilty. They may take 77iy life ; they may take his ; but they 
 shall not harm you, or cast suspicion on your truth. 
 
 Sir Mai. Useless, Madge, viseless. [Folding and scaling papers.) 
 Your confession would only involve your life and your father's in my 
 fate. 
 
 Mar. Bat when I tell them all, they will not doubt. 
 
 Sir Mai. Doubt! These are days when men watch each other's 
 lips, and count a bushel of lies to every grain of truth. (Showing 
 2)apers.) There, there, my poor wife, I have adopted the only 
 honorable means open to us. 
 
 Mar. What have you done ? 
 
 Sir Mai. I have written to Forbes and General Gardiner, ex- 
 plaining to them that the dispatches have been stolen, without 
 
 mentioning the name of the your father. I have oiiered to 
 
 make any atonement they may demand ; and if they are the true men 
 I take them for, they will not refuse to believe me honest. 
 
 Mar. Pray Heaven, that they are true men. 
 
 Sir Mai. Meanwhile, take courage, Madge, to face the worst. 
 And you, Aggie — why you have not raised your head this half 
 hour ! Come, let me see you both smile; for a sweet smile, you know, 
 carries half the burthen of misfortune. 
 
 Agnes. Oh, I am so frightened, Malcolm. [Murmuring in the 
 court yard which attracts Margaret's attention; while Sir Mal- 
 colm says, 'm a low whisper, to Agnes:) 
 
 Sir Mai. You must throw away your fears, for I have a charge 
 to confide to you. I want you to promise that, whatever happens, 
 you will keep near Madge, and try to help and comfort her. 
 
 Agnes. I promise, but don't speak so gloomily. 
 
 [Enter Neil Johnstone, l. 1 e.) 
 
 Neil. [Announcing.) Colonel Strang. [At this name, the ladies 
 start. CoL. Strang enters l. 1 e. tvith Dr. Fairlie, followed by 
 Sergeant Eyan.) 
 
 Sir Mai. [Advancing.) You are welcome, sir, to Elvanlee. 
 
 Col. Strang. I am proud to know one of his majesty's most de- 
 voted adherents. 
 
 Sir Mai, You will prove me so, sir. Permit me to present you 
 to Lady Oliphant. (Margaret hoivs coldly.) 
 
 Col. Strang. It is the renewal of an acquaintanceship that was 
 highly esteemed by me. 
 
 Sir Med. Ah ! yes, I have just been told that you are old friends. 
 Excuse me a moment. [He goes to table, picks np j)apers, and seems 
 to reflect during the following dialogue; then, as if icith a sudden deter- 
 
SCENE I.] LOYE AND JEALOUSY. 19 
 
 minaiion, he advances to CoL. Strang. Strang advayices io Mar- 
 garet, as Agnes whispers io her. 
 
 Afines. Beware of him. [She turns to Strang.) 
 
 Col. Strang. [To Margaret, /aA-z'w^' her hand.) Has your lady- 
 ship informed Sir Malcolm Oliphant that I once sued in vain for 
 the prize which he has won — your hand. 
 
 Margaret. {Snatching her hand from Jtim.) The acquaintance was 
 so slio;ht, sir, that I did not think it of importance to rememher. 
 Shall I tell him now? 
 
 Col. Strang. Quite unnecessary. As you say, it is better for- 
 gotten. (Margaret leaves — draws Dr. Tairlie aside, and seeyns 
 to be telling him what has happened. As Malcolm advances to Col. 
 Strang, Agnes perceives him, and makes a quick motion to prevent 
 him; hut before she can stay him, he breaks the seals, and j^l^ces the 
 letters in Col. Strang's hands.) 
 
 Sir Mai. Eead this, Colonel Strang. As a friend, I desire your help 
 and council in the awkward circumstances which that letter explains. 
 (Strang reads, and a malicious smile ]xisses over his face.) 
 
 Col. Strang. The dispatches stolen ! The thief escaped ! This is 
 bad news, sir. It is the most unhappy accident that could have be- 
 fallen you. Have you no clue to the thief? 
 
 Sir Mai. I cannot answer that. 
 
 Col. Strang. Cannot answer ! You know the penalty of your 
 silence ? 
 
 Sir Mai. I do — it is — death. 
 
 Mar. No ! no ! 
 
 Sir Mai. (Strang gives a low order to Eyan. ' Exit Ryan, l. 1 e.) 
 Silence, wife, remember ! 
 
 Col. Strang. You force upon me a most disagreeable duty, but to 
 fail in its discharge, would be to subject myself to suspicion of com- 
 plicity in your crime. 
 
 Sir Mai. Crime ! 
 
 Col. Strang. Your sword, sir. [As he surrenders his sn-ord, Eyan 
 enters L. 1 E. with a file of soldiers, who surrow2d Malcolm.) 
 
 ' Mcrr. {Frantically.) He is innocent! he is innocent! I know 
 the criminal. 
 
 Col. Strang. His name? {As Margaret is about to give his name, 
 Sir Malcolm shouts to her.) 
 
 Sir Mai. Margaret ! (Margaret starts toward Strang to reveal 
 the name. Malcolm checks her, seizing her arm. She turns, and 
 faints into his arms., forming a picture.) 
 
 TABLEAU.— Curtain. 
 
20 LOVE AND JEALOUSY. [ACT TI. 
 
 ACT II. 
 
 Scene I. — State cabin on board the " Tiger.'" Port hole in C. F. 
 ToMe and two chairs, on one of which, Malcolm is discovered lean- 
 ing on the table. 
 
 Sir Mai. (Solus.) Only a few more hours, and I will have paid the 
 penalty of Strathroy's crime. Poor, poor, Madge! In this letter, 
 which the Captain has promised to deliver to President Forbes, I 
 have begged him to investigate my case, and clear the stigma from 
 my name. I know he will do it, for he is an honorable man. For 
 Madge's sake, I have held her father's name unspoken; bat I pray 
 Heaven, that, before he makes his peace with this world, he will clear 
 my name from disgrace, and leave my memory an honor, and not a 
 shame, to Scotland. But why have Madge and Fairlie not been to 
 see me ? Fairlie's honest face I saw every day during my long and 
 tedious trial ; but Madge, God help her, is crushed with grief. (A 
 noise withotd.) Ah ! a visitor — who can it be ? 
 
 {Enter Dr. Fairlie, l. 2 e , clothes soiled and ruffled, followed by a 
 Marine xoho guards the door. 
 
 Sir Mai. Dr. Fairlie ! 
 
 Dr. Fair. I am glad to see you, Elvanlee — I mean, I am sorry to 
 see you here. But it appears you are counted a monstrous villain, 
 that they won't allow me to see you privately, and this your last 
 night in this world. (Glancing at Guard.) 
 
 Sir Mai. I am glad to see you, Fairlie, on any conditions, (grasp- 
 ing his hand,) and I am not surprised at the restraint placed upon 
 our meetings It is part of an unaccountably rigorous system with 
 which I have been treated from the beginning. I cannot guess the 
 reason. 
 
 Dr. Fair. I can. That Colonel Strang is the reason. 
 
 Sir Mai. Is he here ? 
 
 Dr. Fair. Yes ; ha is here to see the sentence of court-martial 
 carried out. (Irritably.) 
 
 Sir Mai. But why should he wish me harm ? 
 
 Dr. Fair. Don't know; but I suppose, as he wanted to marry 
 Lady Oliphant before she became your wife, he has a fancy now to 
 marry your widow. 
 
 Sir Mai. (Starting.) She never told me of that ; but, hush. Doc- 
 tor, you are vexed on my account, and angry with him. Forget him, 
 and give me your news. Where is Madge ? 
 
 Dr. Fair. (Taking snuff violently, and glancing at Guard.) Yes, I 
 w\as wrong to blame him, but he interferred with me when I came 
 on board, and that put me out. 
 
 Sir Mai. Never mind him. Tell me of my wife. 
 
 Dr. Fair. She has gone to London, in the hope that an appeal to 
 the lords regent may help you. I set out in search of Forbes ; but 
 finding I could not make certain of reaching him in time, I left 
 Johnstone to continue the chase, and returned to Edinburgh. 
 
SCENE I.] LOVE AND JEALOUSY. 21 
 
 Sir Mai, My poor wife ! So eager was she to save me, that she 
 has deprived me of the one solace I thought was left me — a last 
 touch of her hand, a last look of her eyes. That would have given me 
 strength. Doctor, to endure this cruel sentence to the end, and it is 
 lost. Well, it is better so for her sake, poor lass — poor lass J 
 
 Dr. Fair. Confound it. Sir, how did we know or imagine that 
 your trial was to be pushed forward with such da — I mean, dis- 
 graceful haste? It is altogether without precedent. Sir; and I 11 
 undertake that, if order is ever restored to this unlucky country, 
 those concerned in this business shall be called upon for a strict 
 reckoning. 
 
 Sir Mai. That will not help me much. 
 
 Dr. Fair. Perhaps not ; but it will be a satisfaction to your^ 
 friends. Now, tell me, how do you feel ? Are you prepared to be 
 made a target of to-morrow ? 
 
 Sir Mai. [Aside.) Is the man crazed? No, I am not prepared. 
 The position seems like a dream in which I am conscious of dream- 
 ing. I cannot yet realize that this is my last night here ; that 
 to-morrow I must die. 
 
 Dr. Fair. [Glancing at Guard.) Well, the sooner you realize it 
 the better for you, as there is no hope. 
 
 Sir Mai. [Dreamily.) No hope ! 
 
 Dr. Fair. None; on my arrival in Edinburgh, I hastened to Gen- 
 eral Hamilton, I complained, I protested, and I am afraid I swore; 
 but he refused to delay the execution even for a day. He reminded 
 me that your case was that of a spy 
 
 Sir Mai. A spy ? 
 
 Dr. Fair. Ay, but be quiet ; he reminded me that spies were 
 usually hung on the spot, and that unusual favor had been granted 
 you, for three or four days had been devoted to your aftair, and you 
 were to be shot, instead of being hung like a common felon. The 
 utmost he would grant was permission for me to spend two hours 
 with you; [drawing from his fob an immense silver watch ;) forty-live 
 minutes have already elapsed. That leaves us one hour and lifteen 
 minutes. Sergeant, here's a gold-piece ; can you find a bottle of wine 
 for us? [Instead of taking the money ^ the Guard calls out: "A bottle 
 of wine for prisoner.") D — n the fellow, he can't be bribed. It's 
 better to be merry than miserable. We will be merry for one hour, 
 and serious for fifteen minutes. I'm going to tell you a story to 
 beguile the time. 
 
 Sir Mai. A story ! I would rather ycu would allow me time to 
 explain my last wishes to you for the arrangement of my aftairs. 
 
 Dr. Fair. [Looking hard at him.) I have left a quarter of an 
 hour for that. [Places his watch on table beticeen than.) I am going 
 to tell you a story ; it will interest you, and be more entertaining to 
 our friend, the Sergeant. It is better to be merry than miserable, I 
 say, and 
 
 [Enter Boy ivith wine and exit, L. 2 e.) 
 
 here is something to help us. (Fairlie pours out a glassful, offers 
 it to Guard, who hesitates, but accepts before Fairlie sits it doion.) 
 2* 
 
22 LOVE AND JEALOUSY. [ACT II. 
 
 Sir Mai. {Aside.) There is certainly more meant than said by 
 this man, eccentric as he is. Yes, Eairlie, go on ; I will listen to 
 your story with all attention. 
 
 Dr. Fair. {To Guard.) That's right; never throw away any of 
 the mercies of this world; take all, and be thankful. {Drinking.) 
 Your health, sir, and j-ours, Elvanlee. Now we are comfortable, and 
 for the next fifty minutes I am going to try and make you forget 
 fo-morrow. {His hand rests on table., and, as if by accident., his finger 
 2Joinis to the figure Xll.) What was I going to tell you? Oh! I 
 remember | it was about a cousin of mine by the name of John 
 Coupland ; {looking at Malcolm;) and by 'the way, Malcolm, 
 he did not look unlike you ; in fact, I believe his own friends 
 cpuld hardly distinguish you. Well, as I was going to say, he 
 married young, and without a penny, poor devil, and he suftered for 
 it ; and his wife suffered too. They were desperately fond of each 
 other, though, and that made amends for much of the trouble they 
 had to endure. I believe they would have repeated the blunder, if 
 they had the chance, in spite of the vexatious experience their tw^o 
 years of married life afforded them. {Takes snufi^., and glances at 
 GrUAKD.) 1 do not know how you came to enter his Majesty's ser- 
 vice—and here's his health in the captain's Burgundy — but my 
 cousin was pressed into it. What made the circumstance most pain- 
 ful was, that at the time his w'ife la}" dying, as he thought, among 
 strangers, and without a penny to buy food or procure help. That 
 made a bad soldier out of him, as you may understand, and within a 
 week after he had been drafted on board his Majesty's ship " Her- 
 cules," he had made three attempts to desert, and had stirred up 
 half a dozen fools like himself to mutiny. 
 
 Guard. {Shaking his head.) That's always a bad game. 
 
 Dr. Fair. Always a bad game. Sergeant, would you open that 
 half-port. This place is stifling, and I believe in plenty of fresh air — 
 that's my chief objection to hanging, it interferes wdtli respiration. 
 (Guard opois po7't, c. r.) Thank you. Well, for the first otfence 
 he was pardoned ; for the second he receivM four dozen with the 
 cat ; and for the third he was condemned to be strung at the yard- 
 arm. Then the fool became sensible that it was no use fighting 
 single-handed against his Majesty's forces, so he resigned himself to 
 his fate. He became quite calm and inditferent to life ; he gave no 
 trouble to any one ; but whenever he thought of his wife he writhed 
 with fury and regret. But quiet as he appeared, he was for from 
 tamed yet. The thought of the poor creature lying helpless rendered 
 him desperate. He knew the next day he would be made a scare- 
 crow for all the dissatisfied spirits on board. There was not the 
 slightest chance of mercy being shown him, and {looking steadily at 
 Malcolm) wdiat do you think'was the wild notion that entered his 
 head, as he lav in darkness heavily ironed ? 
 
 Sir Mai. What? 
 
 Dr. Fair. Why, he determined to escape. 
 
 Sir Mai. Escape? {Aside.) What does he mean ? 
 
 Dr. Fair. Ay, escape, even though he should live under an as- 
 sumed name ever after. 
 
 Gnard. I've seen some tr}^ that, but they always got the worst of 
 it. What could one poor devil do on board ship against so many? 
 
SCENE I.] LOVE AND JEALOUSY. 23 
 
 Dr. Fair. Just that, Sergeant. What could he do? He could 
 attempt what none but desperate men will attempt — to over come the 
 impossible. 
 
 Guard. Ay, sir, and how did he set about it? 
 
 Dr. Fair. I am going to tell 3'ou. He had no friends on board 
 with whom he could arrange a plan of escape ; and even if a friend 
 had come aboard, the prisoner would not have been allowed five 
 minutes private conversation, [looking sieadihf at Elvanlee, while 
 apparently talking to Guard,) and, to make matters worse, the '' Her- 
 cules " was at sea, out of sight of land, so that there was no chance of 
 a friend reaching him. 
 
 /S7;- 3fal. And did he try in spite of that ? 
 
 Dr. Fair. He did, and carried the attempt farther than you 
 would have thought possible. His first object was to gain the deck, 
 for the crib in which he was confined had no outlet, not even a ^:>o/-^- 
 hole, save the door. [Fixing his eyes on poi^t^ and i^ointing to figure 
 XII on watch.) 
 
 Sir Mai. (Aside.) "What does he mean? Ever since he com- 
 menced this strange story, his finger has pointed, time and again, 
 to the figure twelve. Whatever he means, I'll fathom it. 
 
 Dr. Fair. {Taking snnjf.) His appearance of resignation was of 
 service to him now. He begged the commander, as a last favor, to 
 be allowed to walk on deck for half an hour the night 'before his 
 execution. The commander was not a hard hearted man, and when 
 the request was carried to him, he granted it. The next difficulty 
 Coupland had to encounter was to remove his irons. (Looking 
 significantly at Malcolm.) If his limbs had only been free ! (Mal- 
 colm becomes more attentive and listens breathlessly.) He felt that 
 he could have done anything for his poor wife's sake, even if his 
 hands been free. He bargained that, when taking on deck, his 
 ankles would be relieved, and then he would only have to deal with 
 his wristbands. There was but one way to manage them — to drag 
 his hands through in spite of bones and flesh. When the proper 
 time came, as he expected, his legs were set free. But when he 
 looked around on the great field of sea and sky, his heart failed him 
 a bit. Still, drowning was preferable to shooting or hanging any 
 day-, so he resolved to carry out his plan. If picked up, he could re- 
 port himself as a wrecked seaman, and if he sank — then that would 
 end all his troubles. It was a wild venture, but it was better than 
 no chance at all. There was one thing against him — the moon. She 
 was shining as clear as daylight ; but if he had such a night as this, 
 his chance of getting away from the "Hercules" would have been 
 greatly strengthened. But he had to take things as they were, so, no 
 sooner had the marine turned his back than he sprang clear over the 
 bulwarks, and fell with a splash into the water. The alarm was raised 
 instantly, and a boat was lowered. Everybody was on the lookout. 
 But Coupland was a good swimmer, and he managed to keep 
 under water, until he had drifted a good bit away from the vessel. 
 You see, he went with the tide, which was capital, as it saved him 
 much labor, but the moon was treacherous. He lifted his head above 
 water to obtain breath — he was seen and fired on. Two bullets struck 
 him — one broke his arm and the other struck his body. The struggle 
 
24 LOVE AND JEALOUSY. [ACT II. 
 
 was over for him ; for he was stupified with pain, and instead of 
 allowing himself to sink, he continued to float until the boat reached 
 him, and carried him back to the "Hercules." He lived long 
 enough to tell the chaplain all he had thought of and intended 
 doing ; and he died declaring he would have done the same thing 
 again under the circumstances. [Looking at Elvanlee, and taking 
 snuff.) He was a brave fellow. 
 * Guard. What bec^ime of his widow? 
 
 Dr. Fair. Eh ! Oh she lamented — and got married again. 
 
 Guard. That's the way they all do. 
 
 Dr. Fair. They can't help it, poor things; don't blame them. 
 Fate was against Coupland, and he was obliged to surrender ; yet he 
 died like asturdy man and not like a knave. 
 
 Si- Mai. [Turns his head. A^ide.) The riddle is solved, Fairlie. 
 Your well-timed advice shall not be disregarded. 
 
 Guard. Well, that was better than being strung at the yard arm 
 or shot. 
 
 Sir Mai. [Aside,) Yes, a thousand times better. 
 
 Dr Fair. [To Guard.) Would you have done the same? 
 
 Guard, I'm not so sure about thaL 
 
 Dr. Fair. Because you have seen the result of his endeavor. But 
 if Coupland had only had a friend to tell him that at a certain hour 
 [tapping the figure XII of hisrcaich^ xuhich Malcolm observes,) there 
 would be a 'boat waiting for him a mile to leeward of the "Her- 
 cules" — a boat which he should discover by a light at the prow, 
 which would appear and disappear every two minutes — and if there 
 had been no moon that night, don't you think he would have had a 
 fair chance of escape? 
 
 Gxiard. We say in one part of the conntry, " when ifs and ans be- 
 come pots and pans, there will be no use for tinkers." [Turns to- 
 ivards door^ which he guards as at first) 
 
 Dr. Fair. What do you say, Elvanlee? 
 
 Sir Mai. He would have had a good chance for life under such 
 circumstances, and he would have been a fool not to have taken it, 
 seeing there was no other hope for him. [Nods to Dr. Fairlie ) 
 
 Dr. Fair. That's my opinion exactly. But let me see — we have 
 used five minutes of the time allowed to j^our testament. ( Watch- 
 ing Malcolm intently.) What is the hour by your time-piece? 
 
 *S7;' Mai. Five minutes to eleven ! 
 
 Dr. Fair. You are five minutes fast according to my watch, 
 so that you have five minutes more of this life than you expected. 
 You have ten minutes in which to tell me all your wishes. [Put- 
 ting his watch in his pocket.) 
 
 Sir Mai. All that I possess is to go to my wife, as you will find 
 stated in this letter. I suppose, however, the government will seize 
 Elvanlee and its belongings ; but you may be able to recover some- 
 thing for Margaret, by and by. 
 
 Dr. Fair. [Aside.) Yes, by my soul, if everything works well, 
 I'll recover you for her. [To Malcolm.) I have no doubt of being 
 able to regain everything. I'll answer for it, Forbes will do your 
 memory justice. 
 
 Sir Mai. That thought will comfort me. Tell Madge that I re- 
 gret nothing. 
 
SCENE I.] LOVE AND JEALOUSY. 25 
 
 [Enter Strang, l. 2 e. xoho stands at the door.) 
 
 Tell her I am glad to prove, even with my life, how much I love 
 her. [Perceives Strang, and. tia-ns his back to him.) 
 
 Col. Strang. {A,sidc.) That proud spirit not yet curbed ! Ah, 
 well, to-morrow will crush it forever; and then Margaret Oliphant, 
 you are mine irrevocably. {To Dr. Fairlie.) Dr. Fairlie, I am 
 sorry to disturb you ; but your two hours have expired, and you 
 must take leave of Sir Malcolm. 
 
 Dr. Fair. I obey, sir. Colonel Strang, I must thank you for your 
 courtesy to my unfortunate friend and myself. You, sir, have done 
 your duty, and I respect you for it. But the best wish I can offer 
 you, sir, is, that should misfortune ever fall on you, may those who 
 have power over you know how to temper jtistice with merer/, as yoic 
 have done (Strang hows coldly.) "Well, Elvanlee, farewell ! 
 
 [Exit Fairlie, after an affectionate farewell., l. 2 e.) 
 
 Col. Strang. Egad, Fairlie, from his leaves-taking, seems to be 
 as little disturbed as possible concerning his friend's welfare. 
 
 [Exit, l. 2 e.) 
 
 Sir Mai. [Solus.) Oh, Fairlie, you have raised a hope in me that 
 shall either be realized, or I will die in the attempt. It is better and 
 more noble, at all events, to die in attempting to escape an unjust 
 sentence, than to perish like a felon. But did 1 understand him 
 exactly ? Yes, for there is the port-hole open. The hour appointed 
 twelve o'clock ; a boat to be in readiness to be distinguished by 
 a light appearing and disappearing, and my watch five minutes 
 fast by his. Noble fellow, what pains he took to inform me of all 
 this. But stop, if I am rescued, I am Malcolm Oliphant, the escaped 
 traitor, with a price set on my head. Stay, he said Coupland was a 
 man much like me. I see it all no\v, Fairlie, you would have me 
 change my name. Well, then, so be it. [Taking off^ his coat.) As I 
 divest myself of this, so do I shake off the personality of Malcolm 
 Oliphant, never to be resumed until Scotland returns it to me, free 
 from taint, and spotless as my Madge's honor. [Looking at his watch.) 
 Twelve o'clock, but I am five minutes fast. Stride on, oh, time, 
 stride on ! [A light ajypears, is hidden and redjjpears through j^ort- 
 hole.) Ha ! the signal. [Bells on deck strike eight hells — 12 o'clock.) 
 Ring on, oh, bells ! before thy iron tongues have ceased their clatter, 
 Malcolm Oliphant will be silent in death, or free from Scotland's 
 wrath. To thee, oh! God, do I commend my future. [Jianps fro7n 
 port-hole, c. F. : aloud splash heard in the water. Cries of "man 
 overboard." Drums roll.) 
 
 [Efiter Strang, l. 2 e., hastily with six Marines.) 
 
 Col. Strang. [Speaki7ig quickly as he enters.) The traitor has 
 jumped into the sea. Fire upon him. Aim at every object near, 
 and strew his path with leaden death. (Marines file across stage, 
 with hack to audience, aim and fire simultaneously through the open 
 port-hole.) Ha! that shot makes Margaret Oliphant a widow, and 
 places me once more in the lists. 
 
 Curtain. 
 
26 LOYE AKD JEALOUSY. [ACT III. 
 
 ACT III. 
 
 Scene I. — Exterior of Mrs. Malcolm's Cottage at Stirling. On 
 rigid an arbor with lattice work; on the left ste2:>s and jporch of 
 Cottage. 
 
 {Enter Dr. Fairlie and Capt. Lawrence Spence, l. 2 e.) 
 
 Dr. Fair. And so, Captain Spence, you've fallen in love with 
 Aggie, have you ? And you want me to be the go-between, do you ? 
 On my faith, I knew it, man, long before you did yourself. I knew 
 Yery well you did na be coming here sae often, and be a sending her 
 the birds you'd shoot, and all that for nothing. It's a bargain. Sir. 
 I'll do what you want of me, although match-making is hot just 
 in the ordinary course of my practice. 
 
 Sj)enee. If you do. Doctor, I shall be your debtor for life. 
 
 Dr. Fair. Egad, that's a big saying, meaning nothing. But 
 Mistress Agnes is a bonnie lass, and a good lass, and you are a decent 
 sort of a chield, so I'll do what I can for you ; but I'll not let you 
 bide my debtor as long as you would like ; you shall pay me prompt 
 cash. 
 
 S/jence. Only show me how. 
 
 Dr. Fair. Then find out for me whether the Jacobite Earl of 
 Strathroy is living or dead. 
 
 Spence. Depend on me for that. It is certain he did not fall at 
 Culloden, for all the gentlemen who fell there, or were taken prison- 
 ers, were identified. (Fairlie shudders, and takes snuff to disguise it.) 
 Wh}^, Doctor, what is the matter? 
 
 Dr. Fair. Oh, the very mention of Culloden gives me a qualm in 
 the stomach. [Abrnjjtly.) You do not doubt my loyalty to King 
 George ? 
 
 Spence. Assuredly not. 
 
 Dr. Fair. Well, you'll not misunderstand me, when I say his 
 Grace, the Duke of Cumberland, had an easy victory ; and having 
 won, his mighty highness would have done just as much service to 
 the country, if he had spared us the butchering of the defenceless 
 fugitives that is now going on. Even the helpless women-folks do 
 not escape, and d — n it. Sir, that's enough to make even a Doctor's 
 blood curdle. 
 
 Spence. But these extreme measures may be excused by the fact 
 that the rebellion is not yet extinguished. 
 
 Dr. Fair. Nothing can excuse them, sir. Because two or three 
 dozen fools want to die, sword in hand, rather than take the chances 
 of hanging, that's no reason the whole country should be given to 
 the ravages of unprincipled mercenaries. 
 
 Spence. But you forget, Doctor, that only this morning, my 
 uncle, General Kerr, received sure intelligence that the remnants of 
 the clans, to the number of two thousand, had risen in Lochabar. A 
 force like that may threaten the peace of the country for a long time. 
 
 Dr. Fair. {Starting.) If the auld fool is living, Strathroy will 
 be there. 
 
SCENE I.] LOVE AND JEALOUSY. 27 
 
 Spence. Was it not with him that the traitor, Sir Malcolm Oli- 
 phant, was connected ? 
 
 Dr. Fair. He's dead— a year ago — let him be. {Grtiffly.) 
 
 Spenc. Then you are not aware of the rumor that he is still 
 alive ? 
 
 Dr. Fair. Eh — Eh ? Its nonsense. He was shot in attempting 
 to escape, and drowned in the bargain. I saw the report, and, what 
 was more, I was told by Colonel Strang, who was ordered to superin- 
 tend the execution, that he saw him sink. 
 
 Speyice. Such was the report at the time, and, whether true or not, 
 it was an unhappy business, for I am told he was a brave fellow. 
 
 Dr. Fair. Brave! You know Sergeant Coupland, who has been 
 doing wonders under your uncle, General Kerr. 
 
 Spence. Yes. The shrewdest and bravest man in the regiment. 
 
 Dr. Fair. "Well, if Oliphant had been living and placed under 
 similar circumstances, he would have rivalled your pet, Coupland. 
 
 Spence. By the way, what became of his widow ? 
 
 Dr. Fair. [Coughing and fastening his gaiter.) His widow ? Oh, 
 she is somewhere in Scotland still, I believe, hiding herself under an 
 assumed name. But here we are at Mrs. Malcolm's, and we are for- 
 getting your aflairs ; so amuse yourself in that arbor and wait there, 
 till I call you. I pledge my word that, in ten minutes, I'll let you 
 know your fate. [Exit Spence into arbor.) 
 
 Dr. Fair. [Solus.) So ! I am to add another branch to my pro- 
 fession, and become a healer of broken hearts as well as broken 
 limbs. Ah, happy middle age when one becomes the confidant of 
 fond youth, without any suspicion that middle age might become a 
 wooer, and do a little business on its own account. But nonsense, 
 I'm old enough to be her father. She'd make me miserable every 
 hour of my life, if she were fool enough to marry me. A coquette! 
 W^hat would she care about surgery. But she's a kind-hearted 
 creature, though a wee bit shallow, maybe — I'm haverin: we maun 
 e'en take a tranquilizer and let the bonnie lassie gang. (Agnes 
 comes out of cottage^ and Fairlie meets her.) Ah I Puss, how do 
 we find ourselves to-day ? Still pale ? Why there has not been 
 a bloom on yovir cheeks — let me see — since Captain Spence was 
 here. 
 
 Agnes. W^hat has Captain Spence to do with my looking well or ill ? 
 
 Dr. Fair. Oh, dear me, nothing I How is your sister ? 
 
 Agnes. Much as usual ; kind and generous to me, firm and calm in 
 bearing her own misfortunes. But do you know, Doctor, her manner 
 perplexes me ? 
 
 Dr. Fair. Why so ? 
 
 Agnes. Because since poor Malcolm's death, she has at times been 
 most miserable, and again in the gayest humor. A week ago she 
 said there was an important secret to be delivered to me soon, and 
 that you and she were the only persons that knew it. I wonder what 
 it is? 
 
 Dr. Fair. So do I. But you are not well ? pulse irregular, diges- 
 tion out of order, I think I know the cause. 
 
 Agnes. I am much better than I was, thank you. But where is 
 Captain Spence now ? 
 
28 LOVE AND JEALOUSY. [ACT III. 
 
 Dr. Fair. I will tell you about him presently. Agnes, you have 
 suifered some depression lately. Did it concern your sister ? 
 
 Agnes. No, it concerned nobody. 
 
 Dr. Fair. And nobody is always a lover. Oh, did I tell you Captain 
 Spence has been wounded ? 
 
 Agnes. [Quickly.) Not seriously ? 
 
 Dr. Fair. Very seriously. He will carry the mark of it to the 
 grave ; but it won't shorten his life, and 1 may say he is now beyond 
 actual danger. 
 
 Agnes. Are you sure of that ? 
 
 Dr. Fair. Quite. I see that you are interested in the Captain's 
 welfare. 
 
 Agnes. Yery much — that is — you know that he is a friend of my 
 sister. 
 
 Z>/'.. Fair. Just that ; and maintains his friendship for her hj 
 proxy. However, he has some business with her which he must 
 transact personally. He has a great regard for Mrs. Malcolm, and 
 often speaks of her. 
 
 Agnes. Of Margaret? 
 
 Dr. Fair. But as you are interested in him, you shall be the first 
 to judge of his convalescence ; he is in the arbor, I will call him. 
 (Calls.) " Captain Spence? '"' [As Capt. Spence acZuflr?2ces, Fairlie 
 nods to hinij and smiles signijicantly. Spence advances to Agnes, a^id 
 is about to embrace her^ hut Agnes draivs back.) 
 
 Agnes. As you have particular business with Mrs. Malcolm, Captain 
 Spence, please do not let me detain you. She is in the house. (Spence 
 looks bewildered at Fairlie, who nods to him to go on.) 
 
 Spence. I shall not have occasion to see her, unless, with your per- 
 mission, to ask her sanction to our marriage. 
 
 Agnes. Captain Spence, to the same question, one week ago, I an- 
 swered you no. Have you still the hardihood to brave a second 
 refusal ? 
 
 Spence. Yes, Agnes, for with that refusal, you acknowledged a 
 deep-felt attachment for me. May 1 say it was something deeper ? 
 After such an avowal, think you I would relinquish the treasure so 
 easily ? 
 
 I Agnes. Then, Lawrence, if you will be satisfied with me — there is 
 my hand. (Agnes gives hhn her hand, and he embraces he?': they 
 retire up the stage.) 
 
 Dr. Fair. ( Taking snuff.) And, with a furious charge of small 
 arms, the cavahy won the day, 
 
 {Enter Mrs. Malcolm from house, who looks to Fairlie for an 
 explanation.) 
 
 It means, Madam, that there has been a steady siege for nine months ; 
 the garrison held out bravely, but has been taken by storm and sur- 
 rendered unconditionally. 
 
 Sj)cnce. (Advancing.) It means, Madam, that I have come to 
 ask you, as the guardian of this lady, to resign your charge to me. 
 >. Mar. (jTo Fairlie.) How shall I answer them ? Were my father 
 to learn that Agnes, like me, had become the wife of one of his ene- 
 mies, it would madden him. 
 
SCEXE II.] LOVE AND JEALOUSY. 29 
 
 Dr. Fair. Your l^efusal will render them unhappy. Eemembcr, 
 they love each other. You cannot refuse them. 
 
 Mar. You advise this? I see this is a conspiracy, and I must 
 yield. But, mind you, there is one condition. 
 
 Spence. We accept it. 
 
 Mar. No; Agnes, it is you who must accept it. Promise me, for 
 the sake of Captain Spence, that you will not become his wife until 
 General Kerr shall join your hands. 
 
 Spence. Oh, that will be as soon as I break our engagement to 
 him. 
 
 Agnes. [Impulsively.) I accept your conditions freely, Madge. 
 
 Dr. Fair. Then we are quite well now. You young folks take an 
 airing, Avhile we old folks have a talk over your affairs. When we 
 come back, I'll promise we will not find you here. (Spence and 
 Agxks exit through arbor, R. Fairlik a7id Margaret go towards 
 the house.) 
 
 Mar. [To Fairlie.) I have done right, since it has made them 
 happy. 
 
 Scene II. — A room in Mrs. Malcolm's cottage., door c. f. Enter 
 Fairlie and Margaret, c. d. 
 
 Mar. But there is one thing. Doctor, you did not tell me. What 
 of my father ? 
 
 Dr. Fair. When I tell you there is an uprising in Lochaber sus- 
 pected, you may easily guess where Strathroy is. 
 
 Mar. Then he is with them, — but. Doctor 
 
 {Enter Servant, l. 1 e.) 
 
 Serv. A man by the name of Johnstone to see Mrs. Malcolm. 
 Mar. Send hini here. (£"2712! Servant, l. 1 e.) 
 
 Dr. Fair. This is from the camp. I trust your correspondence 
 will never betray us. When you have read your letter, you will lind 
 me in the garden. {Exit, c. D.) 
 
 {Enter Jounstone, l. 1 e.) 
 
 Johis. A letter from my puir Maisler, Ma'am. I came to toon 
 for a barrel of whiskey, and I'll come back for the answer. 
 
 {Exit Johnstone, l. 1 e.) 
 Mar. {Opens letter^ and reads.) '^My own wife' — Ay, Malcolm, 
 always yours, — ^^ nearly a year has passed since xce xcere together, but 
 the hour of our triumph is near. I have returned to-day from a suc- 
 cessful expedition. The General has publicly acknoivledged my services 
 to the Government; and, thanks to his favor, I hope, in a few days, to be 
 able to declare myself, and to claim the revei^sion of the seiitence so has- 
 tily pronounced upon me. Be glad, then, for our separation will only 
 endure a little longer. Commend me to our sister Agnes, and to your 
 own good thoughts. 
 
 ^'■Your true lover and Inisband, 
 
 Malcolm." 
 
30 LOVE AND JEALOUSY. [ACT III. 
 
 [As Margaret 7'eads last lines, enter Seryakt, l. 1 e., followed by 
 Col. Strang.) 
 
 Serv. Colonel Strang. (Exit Servant, l. 1 e, Margaret crushes 
 letter into her iwcket, and htrns to meet Strang.) 
 
 Col. Strang, Mrs. Malcolm, good day! 
 
 Mar. To what am I indebted for this visit, Colonel Strang? 
 
 Col. Strang. Your safety, Madame. 
 
 Mar. My safety ! With what peril am I threatened? 
 
 Col. Strang. There is peril everywhere for the friends of the rebels, 
 and a petticoat is not privileged in the eyes of his Grace of Cumber- 
 land. The mother of the Duke of Perth, the Countess of Strathallen, 
 and other ladies have been consigned to prison at Edinburgh. If it 
 were known that Mistress Malcolm, who has succeeded in gaining the 
 friendship of General Kerr, was none other than the widow of the 
 traitor Oliphant and the daughter of Strathroy, imprisonment would 
 certainly follow — possibly something else. 
 
 Mar. But I have perpetrated no crime, betrayed no secret. The 
 law will protect me. 
 
 Col. Strang. The gibbet and the musket are the only lawgivers of 
 the hour. Your crime, Madame, is your relation to two notorious rebels. 
 
 Mar. {Firmly.) But one of them is dead. 
 
 Col. Strang. [Quietly.) That is so^ I know, for I was with the 
 party who pursued Oliphant, and saw his unhappy end. But, absurd 
 as it may seem, there is a report that he is still alive — nay, more, that 
 he is the chief agent of the insurgents, and is at present in the camp 
 of General Kerr as a spy. 
 
 Mar. {Starting, but recovers herself.) That is a very singular re- 
 port. What will be the consequence of it? 
 
 Col. Strar^g. The result will be this — every man will be examined, 
 and the first who fails to answer satisfactorily will be shot on the 
 instant. 
 
 Mar. But why tell me of these horrors ? I am not interested. 
 
 Col. Strang. Pardon me, Madame, 1 fear you are deeply interested; 
 the inquiry now on foot will lead to your identification. That is why 
 I am here to warn you. 
 
 JMar. I am afraid the warning will not shield me from danger. 
 
 Col. Strang. Ay ! and I have come to tell yo\x that there is one 
 near you who is resolved to protect you at all hazard — if you will 
 permit him. 
 
 Mar. I am grateful to the friend, but I will allow no one to be 
 involved in my distress. 
 
 Col. Strang. But the friend of whom I speak, and it is myself, will 
 venture all, my position, my reputation, every thing for your sake. 
 
 Mar. Colonel Strang ! 
 
 Col. Strang. I understand — I have been too abrupt. Forgive me, 
 I will be more careful next time. Meanwhile, 
 
 [Enter Yai'R'lie, c. d., arid, observing Strang, betrays himself before 
 Margaret answers.) 
 
 give me leave to think I have a right to defend you. 
 
SCENE III.] LOVE AND JEALOUSY. 31 
 
 Dr. Fair. {Advancing, and striking Strang 07i shoulder.) I 
 heard you had arrived, Colonel, and, thinking you would be anxious 
 to reach the General's quarters, I came to oflcr my services as guide. 
 I know he is expecting you 
 
 Col. Strang. I will accompany you at once. {To Margaret.) 
 AVe part, Madame, but be sure you are safe under my care. Good-bye. 
 Now, Doctor, 1 am ready. 
 
 {Exeunt Col. Strang and Fairlie, c. d. u-ho returns again.) 
 
 Dr. Fair. Your father is at the head of the gathering at Locha- 
 ber. Goodness knows when it will end ; but courage ! courage ! 
 — everything depends on that. 
 
 (jG.ri^EAiRLiE, c. D., and enter Johnstone, l. 1 e. at 07ice ) 
 
 Mar. {Frantically.) Woifld you risk your life to save your 
 master's ? 
 
 Johns. I would give it, my lady. 
 
 Mar. They are going to examine evorj' man. If he is discovered, 
 he will be shot. You must help me to get into the camp to-night. I 
 must see your master. 
 
 Johns. You will need a pass. 
 
 Mar. Captain Spence will obtain it for me. Come with me. 
 
 {Exeunt omnes^ C. D.) 
 
 Scene III. — Cam]^ of General Kerr. Tiine — night. In flat, a 
 stream, with tents in the distance. On left, a camp fire, around 
 which are gathered Sergeant Ryan, Corporal Hodge, and a 
 squad of soldiers ; in the centre are the regimental colors. Peddlers, 
 fruit venders, ^'c, cf-c, are scattered ih7'0ugh the camp. Along the 
 river bank marches a Sentinel. Ryan has a young 2^^9 i^ ^^^ 
 
 ARMS. COUI'LAND aslccp, R. C. 
 
 Hodge. Ryan, you're a hero. 
 
 Ryan. It's the pig ye mane, {giving it to the men ;) but here boys 
 go and wash him, and we'll hang him forninst the fire to dry." 
 
 Hodge. Shall we wake Coupland? 
 
 Ryan. No ; lave him alone till we have something for him to ate. 
 He's had the divil's own ride to-day with the Duke's dispatches, 
 and he ought to be made a general at least. (Strathroy, disguised 
 as ayi old farmer^ rows along thcj'iver bank in a boat, and is challenged.) 
 
 Sentinel. Who goes there? 
 
 Strath. {Stops voicing, c.) A friend— if you'll bide a minute till 
 I land, I'll let you see my pass. 1 am just bringing a bit barrel 
 o' real Farrentosh for ane Neil Johnstone. (Soldiers hurrah, while 
 Strathroy rolls the barrel into camp).) 
 
 Ryan. What ails Johnstone, that he did not come himself? 
 
 Strath. Oh, I could na say. 1 was just hanging about the stable 
 at the inn ; he wanted somebody to row up here with the keg, and I 
 wanted the job. So he gied me his pass and I came awa, and that's 
 a' I ken. (Soldiers, Ryan, a7id Hodge gather round the whiskey, 
 and Strathroy advances to right.) Now, that I am here, if I can 
 only obtain an idea of their numbers and position, the clans may yet 
 strike a blow that will give our king his own again. {Moving towards 
 Coupland, and peering into his face.) 
 
32 LOVE AND JEALOUSY. [ACT III. 
 
 Coup. [Starting) Well, comrade, were you seeldng any body? 
 
 Strath. Ay maister, I was looking for a friend, but you're nae he. 
 [Moving away. In the meantime, Coupland rifles tip., resting his 
 elbows on his knees.) By heaven ! if they had not assured me that 
 Oliphant was dead, I should say yonder he is. (Lookiyrg again and 
 seeing Cov'PJ.A'S'D sitting np icith the glare of the fire on himt) It is 
 himself! What does this riddle mean ? 
 
 [Saunters through the camp, and exit, R 3 e.) 
 
 Coup. Has Johnstone returned ? 
 
 Hodge. No, not yet 
 
 Coup. Oh ! mine is a sad fate ; but I will try to be worthy of 
 Madge's sacrifice. It is her honor as well as mine that I am striving 
 to win back. She has shared my shame, and, poor lass, she shall be 
 glad of my victory. 
 
 [Enter Oederly, r. 3 e.) 
 
 Ord. General Kerr wishes to see Sergeant Coupland at head- 
 quarters. 
 
 Coup. [Rising.) Has General Kerr returned ? 
 
 Ord. Yes, and Colonel Strang is with him. 
 
 Coup. [Aside.) Strang here I Heavens! if he recognize me, one 
 word will crush the might}' castle of hope I have been building for a 
 whole year. But to go back is to lose everj^thing. I must advance, 
 whatever fortune awaits me. Go on, I will follow. {E.veunt Coup- 
 land a7id Orderly, r 3 e. During the above, the soldiers have fixed 
 the ivhiskey in the fork of a tree ) 
 
 Hodge. Oh, here 
 he's got with him? 
 
 {Enter Johnstone, and Margaret disguised as a p)easant girl, l. 3 e ) 
 
 Johns. [Throios doion a number of drinking horns ) I have 
 gotten the barrel ready, lads, and there are the cups, and here's my 
 cousin Maggie come to help me fill 'em for you, instead of ould mother 
 Hewitt, whose nae very well. (Margaret bows to soldiers.) 
 
 H^dge. I hope you find yourself vera weel, Maggie ? 
 
 Mar. [Starting.) Well enough to fill your cups, gentlemen. 
 [Pouring some into Ryan's cu}) ) 
 
 Ryan. I drink to the sunshine of your pretty face, honey. (Sol- 
 diers shout vociferously.) 
 
 Johns. [In a low tone to Ryan.) She is Coupland's lass, Dinna 
 let ony o' these fools ill-treat her. [Exit, l. 2 e.) 
 
 Ryayi. [ Whistling.) Oh, that's it, is it: and she wants to see him. 
 I understand now. 
 
 Hodge. Now, Maggie, give us a kiss to flavor the grog. [Attempt- 
 ing to kiss her.) 
 
 Mar. Na, na, my man, that's agin the regulation. 
 
 Hodge. You must pay that price for your passport amongst us. 
 
 Mar. [Aside.) Oh, where is Malcolm? [Decidedly.) If that's 
 the price, I'll pay it — but only to one of ye, and you'll hae to let me 
 choose the man. 
 
SCENE III.] LOVE AND JEALOUSY. 33 
 
 Hodge. {On whom the liquor is beginning to tell.) I am tlie man, 
 then. 
 
 Ryan. [Grasinng him hy the arm., and throwing him hack among his 
 comrades.) Be aisy, Corporal, will ye. Sure you can't have all the 
 girls in the world to yourself. 
 
 Hodge. That's none of your business. 
 
 Ryan. Now, look here, boys, you wouldn't smother the girl? and 
 if only one of us is to have the honor of saluting her, I saythat man 
 should be the favorite of the regiment, Sergeant Coupland. 
 
 Mar. Where is he? AVhere is Sergeant Coupland? 
 
 Sol. Here he is, coming along from the General's quarters ? 
 
 Ryan. Keep at a respectable distance, boys, and I'll bring him to 
 ye like a lamb. {All move over towards fire. Sergeant Coupland 
 enters^ R. 8 e. Ryan meets him.) Is your mouth clean, Coupland, 
 because if it is, here is a prize for ye ? 
 
 Sol. [Shouting.) A prize! a prize! 
 
 Coup. But what is the prize ? 
 
 Ryan. {Pointing to Margaret.) That is it, and, by St. Patrick, 
 if ye do not thank us for giving it ye, w^hy 3-e don't deserve it. 
 
 Coiip. A woman ? 
 
 Ryan. Ay, and a pretty one too. 
 
 Coup. "What then ? 
 
 Ryan. What then? Why this, avick, that in token of the brave 
 work you have already done, your comrades yield their privileges to 
 you, and require you to salute the jewel on their behalf. 
 
 Coup. I'll do that willingly. {Advancing towards each other.) 
 
 Mar. {In a low tone, dropping the plaid jrom her face.) Malcolm! 
 
 Couj). {Aloud, e^nbracing and kissing her.) Margaret! (Soldiers 
 shout " hurrah ! " a7id return to their grog.) 
 
 Hodge. {Hiccoughijig.) 1 sa}', comrade, look here, it's all very well 
 to salute the wench once in a way, but you are going too far, and 
 make our mouths water. 
 
 Coup. Pardon, comrades, but there's a kiss for each of you, is there 
 not? {Kissing Madge.) This for you, Corporal — this for you, Ser- 
 geant ; and this 
 
 Hodge. • Hold hard, let's have one for ourselves. {Advancing 
 towards Margaret; Coupland throivs him back.) 
 
 Coup. Stand oif a bit. Listen to me, lads. You saw just nov/ 
 that I hesitated to takp the prize you ofiered me 
 
 Sol. A\% we saw that. 
 
 Coup. And 3^ou laughed at me for it ! then, you saw me leap at 
 your otfer. Shall I tell you the reason of the change? It was not 
 alone because this lassie's eyes were bright, and her lips red, but be- 
 cause I recognized in her face the portrait of an old friend. 
 
 Sol. An old friend ! 
 
 Coup. You have wives, some of you ; and the rest have sweethearts. 
 
 Ryan. Thrue for ye. 
 
 Coup. "Well, I had a sweetheart once — so pure, so true that she 
 was like one of those stars shining up yonder ; and just like that black 
 cloud which has covered a dozen of them, misfortune came between 
 us, and hid her from my sight. But it could not hide her from my 
 thoughts or from my dreams. By the camp-fire — at the lonely watch 
 3* 
 
34 LOVE AND JEALOUSY. [ACT III. 
 
 by the hillside — when the trumpets brayed and cannon roared — when 
 the smoke of carnage enveloped us like a black fog — that star was 
 always shining over me, giving me thoughts of better things, and 
 strength to dare and win them. 
 
 Ryan. And a mighty fine thing was that same star, and here's 
 luck to it. 
 
 Coup. Ah, lads, that is what my lass was to me. But there were 
 sad thoughts, too, associated with her. At times I remembered that I 
 was like one dead to her, and she without a protector in her hour of 
 need, and I writhed with the pun of my own helplessness. Worse 
 than that, I recollected that her charms would not lack wooers, and 
 the demon of jealousy tortured me with the fear that she might for- 
 get me. 
 
 Mar. [In a lore tone, and clinging closer to him.) Never, Malcolm, 
 never. 
 
 Coup. It was only a brief pang that, for when doubt darkened on 
 me, I used to look up and see the bright hope of her ftice shining on 
 me, and then I tried to make myself worthy of her in faith and in 
 truth. Trying to do that gave me the courage to fight wherever 
 death was mightiest, and trying to do that has won for me your good 
 will and my Sergeant's badge. 
 
 Ryan. And sure ye deserved them all, and the girl into the bargain. 
 
 Coup. Well, comrades, after a weary while of separation and sus- 
 pense, do you wonder if I seemed to take more than a fair share of the 
 honey on this lassie's lips, when I recognized in her the star I have 
 been dreaming about so long? (Soldiers crowd around, and con- 
 gratulate him.) 
 
 Ryan. {Grasping his hand.) Good luck to ye, and, while the girl 
 is with us, I promise ye she shall have the respect of a princess. Isn"t 
 that right, boys ? 
 
 Sol. Ay, ay, every word of it. 
 
 Ryan. Then here's to their long lives. [All drink, and return to 
 fre.) 
 
 Mar. [In a low tone.) I must speak to you alone. Can you not 
 leave this place? 
 
 Coup, impossible. That fellow Hodge is out of humor ; he would 
 follow us, and that would end in mischief. 
 
 [Enter Strathroy from r. 3 e. , going towards river.) 
 
 Strath. I have discovered their strength. Now let me escape 
 in safety, and the clans shall march down from Lochaber like an 
 avalanche, and avenge CuUoden on the butcher Cumberland. What 
 do I see — Oliphant and Margaret. [Drums roll xuithoid, Strathroy 
 mingles aynong Soldiers, always keeping hvnself prominent.) 
 
 Mar. [Clutching CovPhA's-D's a7'm. Aside.) Heavens! if that be 
 the order for inspection, he is lost. 
 
 Coup. It is only for the General's guard, Madge, but it warns me 
 I shall have to leave you directly. 
 
 3Tar. Oh! how can I warn him of his danger; all eyes are on me; 
 there is but one way. [Turning to Soldiers.) Come, gentlemen, let 
 me fill your cups. (.4s she help)s Ryan, and at the same time laughing.) 
 
SCENE III.] LOVE AND JEALOUSY. 35 
 
 Sergeant, what would you do now, if, in the midst of a' this fun and 
 guid fellowship, you should find a traitor— a sort of serpent in the 
 bosom o' your sodgers? (Coupland looks perplexed; Strathroy 
 draws his bonnet closer^ and prepares to run for the river.) 
 
 Ryan. {Taking Coupland by the aryn.) Do? I would take the 
 blackguard by the throat, as I take your arm, comrade, and I'd shake 
 the soul out of him for stealing into honest company; and thin I'd 
 kick him over to the hangman. Shouldn't we, my boy? 
 
 Coup. Surely, surely. 
 
 Strath. [Aside.) How calmly he takes it. 
 
 Ryan. But who is it that talks of traitors? 
 
 Mar. Oh, I can nae tell yow that, exactly ; but folks say there is 
 ane among ye, and he betrays every thing to the clans, and that is 
 how they fash ye sae muckle. 
 
 Hodge. {Drunkenly.) I'll go to the General instantly. 
 
 Mar. Eh, man, but you are ower late. {Looking steadily at Coup- 
 land.) The General kens a' about it, and he is to make an inspec- 
 tion o' everybody in the camp, and the first man who fails to satisfy 
 him by his answer ^ill be shot then and there. 
 
 Ryan. Then we'll show his honor that we keep too good watch in 
 our company to let any dirty spy get in it; shall we not, my boy? 
 
 Coup. Surely, surely. 
 
 Ryan. But who is the ruffian, if you know ? 
 
 Mar. Some great man. Sir Malcolm Oliphant, of Elvanlee, I 
 think, was the name I heard. (Soldiers gy^oivl indignantly. Strath- 
 roy sta7'ts back astonished. Coupland starts slightly, bid no one 
 observes it.) 
 
 Ryan. Arrah, is it him that was shot and drownded, ye mane? 
 
 Mar. That's just the man. 
 
 Ryan. Then, bad luck to him, but we'll lay his ghost if we catch 
 him. Here, boys, drink to the rope that's to hang the traitor Oli- 
 phant. {All hands drink but Margaret, ivhich Hodge observes.) 
 
 Hodge. Why don't you join us, Maggie? Come, take a sip to 
 Oliphant's speedy hanging. 
 
 Mar. Me ! I wish naebody ill. Pd rather no 
 
 Coup. {Calmly.) Why not wet your lips to the toast, my lass ? 
 No knave deserves to live. Come, drink with me to the traitor's 
 death. {Bugle sounds, and drums beat.) 
 
 Ryan. {To tnen.) Fall in ! {Men take their muskets, fall in line, 
 and march off, r. 2 e. Strathroy Jddes behind tree.) 
 
 Mar. {Hurriedly ) You must escape now. 
 
 Coup. I understand your warning, but it is too late. I have just 
 received orders from the General to attend him, as guard, through 
 the pass of Lochaber, to-night. 
 
 Mar. He will find another. 
 
 Coup. Still, I cannot move. To fly now is to lose all that I have 
 won, and to cast away every hope that makes the future bright. I 
 cannot move. 
 
 Mar. It is madness to remain. 
 
 Coup. It is ruin to take flight. 
 
 Mar. Malcolm, Malcolm, I implore you to go. 
 
 Coup. And my love for you bids me stay. 
 
36 LOVE AND JEALOUSY. [ACT III. 
 
 Mar. Oh, let your love for me drive 3^011 hence, for it is cruelty to 
 me to wait for certain death. 
 
 Coup. It would still be more cruel to you to fly and involve you 
 in a fate as sure. Every pass is guarded. "VVe would be seized, 
 dragged back to judgment, and the attempted escape would be a con- 
 fession of guilt. I stay here to confront my accusers, and the past 
 will plead for me. 
 
 Mar. The past will condemn you. 
 
 Cvup. Then I will fall, content that I have made full atonement 
 for my oflfense, and you will live to take care of Agnes. 
 
 Mar. Do not think of her. She is safe — she is to become the wife 
 of Captain Spence. 
 
 Strath. (Starting for river , but hears this.) Curse you ! you would 
 take her from me too ; but you shall not, you shall not. (Meets 
 Strang.) (Aside.) Strang! (Enters boat., and rows off, j..) 
 
 Col. Strang, (Entering, l. 3 e.) Strathroy is here, and is disguised. 
 So! so! (Seeing Coupland and Margaret.) A love aftair ! I'll 
 watch it. {Stands back.) 
 
 Coup. I am glad of that, but it does not alter^ my determination. 
 
 Mar. I can plead no more. 
 
 Coup. It is useless, Madge, for I am resolved to meet the worst. 
 But you must not remain longer in the camp. Johnstone is your 
 guide? 
 
 Mar. He — and another. 
 
 Coup. What other ? 
 
 Mar. Do not ask me. I have promised not to reveal his name. 
 
 Coup. Be it so. Good-bye, we will meet again soon, and if not, 
 be comforted, for, in life or death, I love you. (Embraces her. 
 Strang advances to front. She perceives him, draios her plaid over 
 her face, and starts to run. Strang grasps her plaid, a7%d breaks 
 her brooch, which falls to ground.) 
 
 Col. Strang. Hallo— halt my pretty lass ; I should know that form 
 and those pretty eyes. (Margaret breaks away, mingles with the 
 Soldiers just entering, and escapes, r. 3 e. Strang starts to folloio 
 her. ) 
 
 Coup. (Throwing himself before him.) Pardon, Colonel, pardon, 
 I have something to say. 
 
 Col. Strang. Out of the way, sir. 
 
 Coup. But I have— something to say. 
 
 Col. Strang. You are drunk, rascal. If you have a grain of sense 
 left in your muddled brain, you will not persist in this insolence. 
 
 Coup. (Aside ) It is a good hint, and I'll take it. (Assuming 
 drunkenness.) Pardon, Colonel, I— mean no insolence, but I must 
 speak to you. 
 
 Col. Strang. Must, sir ! You forget. 
 
 Coup. No; I do not forget. You are Colonel Strang, and I am 
 Sergeant Coupland, a poor soldier under your command, food for 
 powder, and nothing more. But, sir, even a creature like me has a 
 heart, and likes and hates as passionately as nobler men. Ay, and 
 the good name of those we love is as precious to us as the honor of 
 your house to you. 
 
SCENE III.] LOVE AND JEALOUSY. 37 
 
 {Enier Pairlie, r. 2 e — swyrised.) 
 
 Col. Strang. Bah ! {Shoving him aside.) 
 
 Coup. I am drunk. What matter? I must speak. You would 
 pass; you would follow that — woman. 
 
 Col. Strang. Well, if it pleases me. 
 
 Coup. If it does not please mc — what then? 
 
 Col. Strang. The chances are, that if you do not get out of ray way 
 you will have a sharp lesson on subordination. 
 
 Cinip. Ay, that is it; you have the power, and, if you are so 
 minded, a word from you would place me in front of a file of my own 
 comrades, to be shot. " Ypu have the power ; but you are a gentle- 
 man, and you will not use it like a scoundrel. You will not ruin a 
 poor fellow's happiness, and then shoot him like a dog. You will not 
 force your acquaintance on a woman who is so little to you, and so 
 ver}'-, very much to me. 
 
 Col. Strang. That depends upon the pleasure of the lady. {Aside.) 
 Where have I heard that voice before ? 
 
 Dr. Fairlie {Advancing., and in low tone.) In Heaven's name, 
 what are you doing? 
 
 Cojip. \Not heeding him.) But this lady, as you have been good 
 enough to call her, Colonel, is an honest woman. You cannot wish 
 to shame her and to degrade me, who cannot resent the degradation 
 as your equal could and would do. 
 
 Col. Strang. Tut, man, stand aside. {Perceiving brooch on ground, 
 and picking it up. Aside.) What is this? A brooch ! That woman 
 was Margaret Oliphant, as I live. 
 
 Coup. {Aside.) Madge's brooch. Heavens ! he has recognized it. 
 
 Col. Strang. You have made a mistake, my good fellow, if you 
 hoped to gain favor in the eyes of that lady. 
 
 Coup. Pardon, Colonel,'! fear it is you who are mistaken. 
 
 Col. Strang. The lady, sir, whom you dared to insult with your 
 pretensions, is my affianced wife. Are you satisfied ? 
 
 {Exit, R. 3 e.) 
 
 Coup. {Sounds of drums. Clutching Fairlie's arms.) You are 
 my friend. Doctor. You will help mc. The General is coming this 
 way ; jon will obtain for me a pass to quit the camp. 
 
 Dr. ^Fair. Leave the camp now ! What are you thinking about, 
 man ? 
 
 Coup. Only for twenty-four hours. I must have it, I tell you — I 
 must see Margaret. 
 
 Dr. Fair. Body o'me! man, you'll wring my arm out o' the 
 socket, if you keep tugging at it that way. So you shall see her, 
 in good time; meanwhile, control yourself. 
 
 Coup. Control myself! I am mad — I cannot control myself— so 
 much the more reason why I should have the pass. 
 
 Dr. Fair. But you can't have it to-night. 
 
 Coup. But I must. 
 
 Dr. Fair. {Grasping him by the shoulder, and iurjiing his face in 
 the glare of the fire.) Confound it, Sir, you canna bo jealous of your 
 wife. 
 
38 LOYE AND JEALOUSY. [ACT III. 
 
 Coujo. No — no, and yet — yes — I am jealous, not of her — but of her 
 position. Did you not hear what Strang said ? Have you no ears — 
 no eyes? He called her his affianced wife, man, his affianced wife. 
 
 Dr. Fair. Then he lied, which is nothing unusual for him. 
 
 Coup. Ay, ay, he lied ; but remember my position. I am dead, 
 yet living. My death has been proved by witnesses; and living, I 
 am an outcast against whom every man's hand is raised. 
 
 Dr. Fair. That's a capital reason wh}'^ you should try and recover 
 your senses enow. 
 
 Coup. Margaret, my wife, persecuted by that man, is defenceless — 
 is at his mercy, for I dare not speak. 
 
 Dr. Fair. You do not doubt her truth ? 
 
 Coup. No — no — Heaven help me, I hardly know what I doubt, 
 or fear, or hope. She besought me to escape from tlie country with 
 her, and I refused — fool that I was. How do I know what danger, 
 what impulse may have wrung from her some warrant for the claim 
 Strang makes ? Get me the pass. 
 
 Dr. Fair. It is her life you hazard as well as your own. 
 
 Coup. Get me the pass, even for her sake. 
 
 Dr. Fair. (Turning away.) No, if you are bound for destruction, 
 I won't quicken your journey, 
 
 (Enter General Kerr mid Staff, r. 3 e.) 
 
 Coup. Destruction will come, then. {Advancing to Kerr.) Gen- 
 eral Kerr? . • 
 
 Gen. Kerr. Speak. 
 
 Coup. An affair of life and death to mc, your Excellency, demands 
 my absence from the camp. If anything I have ever done has won 
 your favor, I implore 3'ou, General, let it plead for me now, and grant 
 me a pass for twenty- four hours. 
 
 Gen. Kerr. When ? 
 
 Coup. Now, now, on the instant. 
 
 Gen. Kerr. Impossible. You are ordered to guide us through 
 Lochaber, and we march at once. 
 
 Coup. Spare me, General, spare me? 
 
 Gen. Kerr. Sergeant Coupland, you have hitherto borne yourself 
 like a true soldier and a brave man. But the man who Avould desert 
 his post at the moment of greatest need is a coward and a traitor, and' 
 we shoot such men. Do not lay yourself open to a suspicion of that 
 character. 
 
 Coup. Bat, General, there are desires, hopes, wrongs 
 
 Gen. Kerr. There is nothing to a soldier but his duty. To your 
 ranks, sir. (Coupland salutes, and takes his place in the ranks.) 
 
 {Enter Strang, r. 3 e. ) 
 
 Col. Strang. (Aside ) Curse her, she gave me the slip. But now, 
 to turn Strathroy's visit to account. General Kerr, I have a com- 
 munication to make, but, as a lady is peculiarly involved in the in- 
 formation, I am compelled to crave your forbearance, and beg you 
 will ask me no more than I am at liberty to tell. 
 
 Gen. Kerr. The lady's interests shall be respected. Proceed. 
 
ACT IV — SCENE I.] LOVE AND JEALOUSY. 39 
 
 Col. Strang. Thank you. The communication must be accepted 
 entirely on my word. There will be no rising of the clans to-morrow, 
 if we succeed, to-night, in arresting the mainspring of the conspiracy, 
 Strathroy. Or, if we can prevent his joining the clans, that will 
 serve the same purpose. 
 
 Gen. Kerr. You have heard of him, then ? 
 
 Col. Strang. Yes, General, and you will be displeased to learn 
 where he has been. 
 
 Gen. Kerr. I know him, and wish he had been on our side, rather 
 than against us. "Where has he been ? 
 
 Col. Strang. In the camp. 
 
 Gen. Kerr. What! Here in our midst, and permitted to escape ? 
 
 Col. Strang. He has been amongst us. General, but he has not 
 escaped. 
 
 Gen. Kerr. Where is he, then ? Let us find Strathroy, and we 
 will extinguish the rebellion ; for it is only his mad enthusiasm that 
 keeps it alive. Colonel Strang, you and I have this night missed the 
 grandest opportunity that fortune is ever likely to offer us. Speak, 
 tell me all you know. 
 
 Col. Strayig. Wherever he may be, sir, our business is to prevent 
 him reaching Auehnacarry, where the rendezvous is appointed for to- 
 morrow. 
 
 Gen. Kerr. It will be no easy matter to prevent him, since he has 
 the start of us ; and no doubt carries information of our position and 
 strength. 
 
 Col. Strang. Without a doubt, General. But give me a dozen of 
 your best dragoons, and I'll stake my future that we bar his way to 
 Lochaber, if we do not capture him, before to-morrow night. 
 
 Geyi. Kerr. So be it. Sergeant Coupland will accompany Colonel 
 Strang with a squad to guard the passes of Auehnacarry. 
 
 Coiq:). Mercy, General, mercy. (SoLDiEES/a^H?2.) 
 
 Gen. Kerr. Sergeant Coupland, you are on a soldier's duty. Take 
 care you do not disgrace it. Por the second time, I order you back to 
 your ranks. (Soldiers march off^ l. 3 e.) 
 
 Coiijy. {Huskilg.) I obey. 
 
 TABLEAU.— Curtain. 
 
 ACT lY. 
 
 Scene L— Mrs. Malcolm's garden. House in the hachground. 
 Agnes and Strang discovered. 
 
 Col Strang. I trust you will pardon my early visit, Miss Agnes, 
 but I have matters of much importance to communicate to Mrs. Mal- 
 colm. 
 
 Agnes. She is employed in the garden, I believe. I will send for her. 
 
 Col. Strang. Before you send, I have something to tell j^ou. 
 
 Agnes. {Carelessly.) I hope it will not take long. Are we dis- 
 covered, and are you going to bring all General Kerr's army to 
 capture a couple of women ? 
 
40 LOYE AND JEALOUSY. [ACT lY. 
 
 Col. Strang. {Half aside.) Poor thing, how little she guesses 
 what is coming. {To Agnes.; Your sister was out late last night ! 
 
 Agnes, (Fainibj.) Yes. 
 
 Col. Strang. Do you know who was her companion ? 
 
 Agnes. It is of little consequence to me, sir, who was her com- 
 panion. 
 
 Col. Strang. Pardon me, Mistress Agnes, if I think it is of much 
 consequence. I crave your pardon still more earnestly if I am the 
 first to warn you that Capt. Spence is not the honest man you and I 
 believed him to be. I was his friend and confidant, until I dis- 
 covered that he was deceiving a lady whom I esteem so profoundly 
 as yourself. 
 
 Agnes. {Ringing hell.) I do not understand your suggestion, 
 Colonel Strang, nor do I wish to understand it. 
 
 Col. Strang. It is my respect for you that has tempted me to 
 speak, and hazard your displeasure. 
 
 {Ejiter SERYANT/7'om House.) 
 
 Agnes. Go down the garden path, and tell Mrs. Malcolm, that 
 Colonel Strang desires to speak to her on urgent business. {Exit 
 Servant, l. 2 e. Ags^es hoios and retires to right. Strang saunters 
 among the flowers. Aside.) So, Madge, the visit, last night, is 
 explained at last. I see it all now — I see why she refused to tell me 
 where she had been. Ah! what have I done to deserve this, what 
 have I done? {E.vit, r. 2 e.) 
 
 (jE/iife?- Margaret, l. 2 e., loith gauntlets on her hand, and carrying a 
 pruniiig knife.) 
 
 Col. Sti^ang. You are early at work, Madame ? 
 
 Mar. Good morning. Colonel — excuse my hand — you see the 
 glove. Yes, I am early astir, as you see, and {sigjiificantly^) you know 
 the early bird catches the icorni. What a beautiful morning. 
 
 Colonel Strang. {Seating himself on a garden seat.) I look at you 
 and say j'es — any morning would be beautiful to me if I could see 
 you. 
 
 Mar. {Brushing rose bush, and 2yretending not to hear him.) How 
 these spiteful little worms destroy my roses ; they eat the heart out of 
 my buds, and seem to thrive on it. 
 
 Col. Strang. Poor roses ! I have a passion for them — they are like 
 love; the full-bloom, brilliant but brief; then, withered leaves. But 
 the perfume, ah, that never dies, for memory holds it always. 
 
 Mar. 1 fear. Colonel, you would sacrifice your commission if the 
 General heard you speak that way. 
 
 Col. Strang. It is a sun-stroke, Madame, and you are the sun. 
 {Attemjiting to seize her hand.) 
 
 Mar. {Draicing it away, and holding up the pruning knife.) Take 
 care of your fingers. Colonel Strang ; the knife is sharp. {Trimming 
 a hush.) See how it snips off the worthless stems, that those which are 
 meant to live may be relieved and strengthened. 
 
 Cul. Stra7ig. {Stooping doivn, and picking up the branch, on ivhich 
 he lays the bi^ooch.) See what curious things sometimes hang on a 
 discarded branch. 
 
SCENE I.] LOVE AND JEALOUSY. 41 
 
 Ma7\ (Stariijig.) My brooch ! I — I must have dropped it some- 
 where. 
 
 Col. Strang. Apparently so. 
 
 Ma7\ Where did you find it? 
 
 Col. Strang. Where? Ahem — I found it over there in the 
 garden. 
 
 Mar. You are wrong, sir; I lost it in the camp last night, and 
 you found it there. 
 
 Col. Strang. That's true — hut I thought 
 
 Mar. Well, sir! That I wished to conceal my adventure. Why? 
 
 Col. Strang. W'ell, there are some things which a lady does not 
 wish every one to know. 
 
 Miir. But this is not one of them. Fie, Colonel, you, who pre- 
 tend to be my friend, are the first to magnify a whim— a mere freak 
 of curiosity — into an act of grave suspicion. Why do you not charge 
 me at once with being an accomplice of the rebels? I am sure you 
 are thinking something dreadful about me. 
 
 Col. Strang. What your purpose may have been, Madam, I do not- 
 know, and I shall not inquire — if you are wise. 
 
 Mar. (Aside.) Hoavens ! does he suspect the truth ? 
 
 Col. Strang. It is said that Malcolm Oliphant is still alive. Of 
 course the rumor is absurd ; but it imperils your safety and your 
 sister's happiness. There is only one way by w^hieli you can prove 
 its falsehood. 
 
 Mar. [Lookiiig at him steadily.) You mean 
 
 Col. Strang. Become my wife without delay. Kefuse, and I will 
 learn before the day is out, why you visited the camp, by arresting 
 the drunken fellow who attempted to prevent my follov/ing you last 
 night. 
 
 Mar. [Aside.) If I refuse, all will be lost. You are so abrupt. 
 Colonel, and so ridiculously stern, that you quite frighten me. 
 Suppose — suppose I had an admirer among the brave soldiers of 
 General Kerr's army, would it be very wonderful ? I begin to think 
 you are — shall I say it? jealous. 
 
 Col. Strang. I am, because I love you. How many years have 
 I waited, patiently serving you? I have tried to win you, Madam^ 
 by every art which love could device, save one. 
 
 Mar. You do yourself injustice, sir. I think you have left noth- 
 ing undone to compel my submission. 
 
 Col. Strang. There is one infiuence yet untried — force 
 
 Mar. You are frank at all events ; and I perceive that our in- 
 terview is to be most unpleasant if we prolong it. Let us be merciful 
 to ourselves, remembering we have not yet breakfasted, and close 
 the question. Permit me to aid you — I have resolved never tO' 
 marry again. [Moves towards the house.) Good morning, sir. 
 
 Col. Strang. [Stopping her.) You must retract your resolution, 
 Madam, you must retract it, and that before I leave you. 
 
 Mar. ^Must? 
 
 Col. Strang. Must! You shall not laugh me off, nor frown me 
 down this time. I have a fancy to fix the date of our marriage now. 
 I love you, and this must be the excuse for all I do. 
 
42 LOA^E AND JEALOUSY. [ACT TY. 
 
 Mar. (Aside.) I cannot conquer; there is but one alternative ; 
 I must pretend to yield. Then pity me, and give me time to think — 
 to prepare for the change. 
 
 Col. Strang. It is because I pity you that I will not wait. — Look — 
 in yonder ruins lurks a rebel, on whose head a heavy price is set — 
 Strathroy. His capture will be the final blow to the rebellion. A 
 word from me last night, and he would have been in the hands of 
 his pursuers. He has owed his life to me more than once — it hangs 
 upon your answer now. 
 
 Mar. You would not betray one whose friend you. p7'etend to be? 
 
 Col. Strang. Kemain obstinate, and, within an hour, your father 
 will be in the hands of General Kerr ; before nightfall, your admirer 
 in the camp will be swinging from the highest tree top in Strath 
 Tay. 
 
 Mar. {Aside.) My last hope gone — I must assume submissive- 
 ness. You have conquered — I consent. 
 
 Col. Strang. You consent! Thanks, Madam, thanks. At last 
 3'ou are generous, and the fidelity of m^- life is rewarded. 
 
 Mar. You left me no alternative, sir. 
 
 Col. Strang. You shall not regret my persistance. But the 
 ceremony must take place ^t once — everything urges haste. Say, 
 then, to-morrow. 
 
 Mar. Yes — I consent to that also. 
 
 Col. Strang. I will prove my gratitude by drawing oif the chase 
 from yonder tower. Adieu — to-morrow you will be my wife, and I 
 shall be happy. {Exit, r. 2 e.) 
 
 Mar. So ! I have gained twentj-four hours truce, Heaven forgive 
 me ! — by a lie ! To-morrow, Malcolm and I shall be fav from Scot- 
 land — or dead. 
 
 {Enter JoiINSTONE, L. 3 E.) 
 
 My faithful Neil, are you here ? 
 
 Johns. The master bade me come, and he said I was to be quick, 
 or he'd be here afore me. 
 
 Mar. He is coming, then ! This is the gladdest tidings I have 
 had for many a day. iSTeil, if your love ever wished to render faith- 
 ful service to your master, do it now. Procure two horses, and keep 
 them saddled in yonder ruin until nightfall. If we can only gain 
 the coast, I fear nothing. 
 
 Johns. Yes, my lady, I am going •. 
 
 Mar. Was there any further message? 
 
 Johns. A}-, there was, but no frae the master. 
 
 Mar. Xot from him ? 
 
 Johns. No, it was no frae him ; but as I was coming up the road, 
 a chield covered up to the throat in a muckle cloak, loups out on me, 
 and says : " I ken you" — " for an honest man, I hope," say I, — " for 
 a servant of the Oliphants," says he; "give that to your mistress ; " 
 and before I could say ay or no, he slips this bit ring in my hand, 
 and was ower the hedge and out o' sight. {Giviyig her the ring.) 
 
 Mar. {Aside.) My father's signet! Johnstone, remember my 
 orders, two horses in yonder ruin at midnight. 
 
 Johns. Ay, my lady. I'll nae forget it. {Exit, L. 3 E.) 
 
SCENE I.] LOYE AXD JEALOUSY. 43 
 
 Mar. Then, he is coming here. And on an important errand 
 too, for, otherwise, the signet of the Strathroy clan would never 
 have left his finger. 
 
 (Enter Strathroy, r. 3 e., disguised, and excited as if j^wsued.) 
 
 {Embracing Jam.) Oh, father, why do you venture here? 
 
 Strath. [Xot observing her.) Thej follow, they follow. The air 
 is loud with their voices. The tramp of their feet, the clang of their 
 arms, the roll of their drums, ring in mj- ears, sleeping or waking, 
 like the roar of a merciless cataract, from whose trade I cannot 
 hreak. But the work goes on — yes, yes — I am assured of that — the 
 work goes on. (To Margaret.) You are here? 
 
 Mar. Father, must you add another pang to the misery I already 
 sutfer through your unkindness ? 
 
 Strath. It is the guilty who suflfer ; the faithful are lifted above 
 all sorrow. Hearken! {Bends forivard, listening.) Hearken! the 
 hounds bay at my heels, their fangs are sharpened to tear me piece- 
 meal, and I laugh at them. Daj^ and night they follow me — hunt 
 me like a criminal — set a price on my head, and frighten cowardly 
 churls into enmity against me. They have left me no where to 
 shelter myself, save the lair of the wild beast on the desolate moun- 
 tain side. They have broken the ranks of our followers, they murder 
 our friends, and still I laugh at them, for the w^ork goes on in spite 
 of all. 
 
 Mar. But you are to escape now ; you are to tly from this un- 
 happ3^ country, when your cause has been utterly lost. 
 
 Strath. Fly the country — the cause lost ! No ; my place is here, 
 to give the faltering courage, and to rally the faithful for the final 
 blow, which will be, I tell you, woman, it nmst be — victorious. 
 
 Mar. Are you desperate enough to hope for victory over an 
 armj^, with a handful of broken down and dispirited men ? 
 
 Strath. Ay, we hope — we can always hope. 
 
 Mar. Oh ! father, can you not see that the sun of the Stuarts 
 sank forever on the dismal fields of CuUoden ? 
 
 Strath. Culloden ; — Ay, the sun went down on that dreadful 
 day — but it will rise to-morrow — it will rise to-morrow. 
 
 Mar. Never ! father, never ! 
 
 Strath. We are a handful of men, as you saj', but behind us and 
 around us is a multitude of martjn's, whose spirits will rise and join 
 us in the strife. The "White Kose shall bloom again — fresh and 
 radiant, the symbol of our countrj-'s honor and content. 
 
 Mar. You must not remain here, father ; 2a\j one who passes on 
 the road may see you. The soldiers are seeking you, and Colonel 
 Strang is a dangerous man. 
 
 Strath. I know him — he will not harm me. 
 
 Mar. But you must save yourself. 
 
 Strath. Ay, ay, I must save myself, but why — why am I here? 
 There was a purpose — but my memory fails me — my memory fails 
 me, and a thousand lives are dependent upon it. What was it? 
 
 Mar. You are fatigued, father ; come in the house. I am not 
 known here as your daughter, and the house may escape suspicion. 
 Come, Agnes will wait upon you, and I will watch. 
 
44 LOVE AND JEALOUSY. [ACT IV. 
 
 Strath. (Quickly.) Ah! I remember now. It was of Agnes I 
 came to speak. 
 
 Mar. Let us go in first. (Urging! him in.) 
 
 Strath. You have arranged a marriage for her. Oh, thoughtful 
 sister ! Oh, treacherous daughter ! You have chosen a husband for 
 her from the malignant crew who are pursuing her father to the 
 death. But j^ou must undo your work, and before I quit this place. 
 The marriage must be broken off. There shall be no more rebels in 
 my family, no more rebels, no more rebels. 
 
 Mar. But — they love each other. 
 
 Strath. She shall learn to love a better man. 
 
 Mar. You distract me. You will kill her. 
 
 Strath. Then let her perish — she will die as the daughter of 
 Strathroy, and not as the wife of a traitor. You hear ? — you under- 
 derstand — vou will obey ? 
 
 Mar. No ! 
 
 Strath. No ? 
 
 Mar. I have borne and borne until my heart is broken, but I 
 will not help you to break hers. 
 
 Strath. Take care ! 
 
 Mar. Ask me to walk into the midst of your foes and to deliver 
 up my life for yours, and I will do it. But you ask me to tear the 
 liope of happiness from her heart, to destroy her peace, and I refuse. 
 I will not do it. 
 
 Strath. You refuse? Observe, then. — The person called General 
 Kerr shall learn that Malcolm Oliphant still lives, and is in his camp. 
 {Starts to qo.) 
 
 Mar. [Stopping him.) You shall not go yet, sir, at least do not 
 leave your cruel work half done. Take your sword and kill me — it 
 will be one act of mercy to plead for you in heaven for all the 
 wretchedness your fanaticism has caused us. 
 
 Strath. You are the daughter who forsook her father for a 
 stranger. You have wedded with a renegade and apostate ; but 
 Agnes must be saved. 
 
 Mar. Saved at the cost of her own despair and ours. You cast 
 me otf — shall I act so ? As my father, I have uttered no word of 
 reproach — as a stranger, what should I say ? 
 
 Strath. Will you obey ? 
 
 Mar. I would say that, trusting to your honesty, I, the wife of 
 the man whom you call renegade and apostate — I gave you an oppor- 
 tunity to rob him of his trust and so place his life in jeopard3^ 
 
 Strath. I served the king. 
 
 Mar. Serve him still, then, and throw aside our kinship. What 
 is my duty now ? To summon assistance, arrest, and deliver you to 
 General Kerr, as the man to whose knavery my husband owes his 
 degradation. But, alas ! even for one so brave, so generous, so noble 
 as Malcolm, I cannot forget I am your child. 
 
 Strath. This marriage must not take place, or upon your head 
 rest the consequences. 
 
 Mar. I will obey. But see, father, the soldiers. [Pointing.) 
 
 Strath. [Grasjnng his sword.) Your opportunity has come, 
 Madam — I am at your mercy. 
 
SCENE I.] LOVE AND JEALOUSY. 45 
 
 3Ia7\ No, no, father, you are followed; you will be seized. 
 Merciful heavens can j'ou not hear — can j'ou not understand? Will 
 not even the name of the king rouse you to save yourself? 
 
 Strath. [Startlvg.) Ay, that name would rouse me from death. 
 
 Mar. Come, then. Go into the first room on the right ; lock the 
 door, and remaiTi there till I call you. I will stop here to answer 
 questions and, if possible, prevent the house being searched. 
 
 Strath. One last service you may render me. {Giving her a 
 2mcket ) Take this packet — my safety depends on it, and perhaps 
 your husband's. If the worst befalls me, give this to Colonel 
 Strang. 
 
 Mrn\ To him ! "What fatal influence is it which involves that 
 man in every grief of my life ? Beware of him, father, he will 
 betray you. 
 
 Strath. In that case, open you the packet and use the contents as 
 you may think best. But let that be the last resource. Meanwhile, 
 see that you keep faith with me in all things, for I will be near you. 
 
 [Exit Strathroy into house.) 
 
 (E)iter Fairlie, l, 1 e.) 
 
 Dr. Fair. Ahem, I'm doubting, Madam, your father has not 
 brought you muckle comfort. 
 
 Mar. You have seen him ? 
 
 Dr. Fair. Ay, he was just going into the house as I came up to 
 the gate. What was the particular object of his Lordship's present 
 mission ? 
 
 Mar. To overthrow all that we have striven so hard to gain for 
 the past year. But here comes Agnes. Listen, and you shall learn 
 all. 
 
 [Enter Agnes, k, 2 e., Margaret takes her hand.) 
 
 You will forgive me, Agnes, for the pain I must cause you. You 
 will forgive me if I seem to wrong you. 
 
 Agnes. Seem to wrong me ? 
 
 Mar. Ay, wrong you, for I must forbid your marriage with Cap- 
 tain Spence. 
 
 Agnes. [Starting, as does Fairlie.) You have spoken at last ! 
 And for what reason must you forbid it ? 
 
 Mar. It is our father's command, and I — we dare not disobey him. 
 
 Agnes. You did not think so once. 
 
 Mar. Agnes! You could have spared me that reproach. But I 
 cannot blame you ; only be patient. I must help you by and by ; 
 but at present I dare not oppose our father's wish. 
 
 Agnes. There is a reason why you do not wish to disobej^ him. 
 
 Mar. There is a reason, but it is my secret. I have kept it from 
 you hitherto, because your knowledge of it would involve you too 
 deeply in my danger. 
 
 Agnes. I do not fear the danger. Tell me your secret now. 
 
 Mar. No, there is more need to-day than ever to hide it. You 
 must trust me a little while longer yet. 
 4* 
 
46 LOVE AND JEALOUSY. [aCT IV. 
 
 Agnes. Trust you, trust you ! that is always the excuse of those 
 
 who fear the truth. I will not trust you 1 will not give him up, 
 
 for I love him — I love him. [Throws hei^self in a chair.) 
 
 Mar. Do as you will, then; marry him, and destroy my peace 
 forever ; then, see if that will aiford you any happiness. 
 
 [Exit, L. 1 E.) 
 
 Agnes. Madge, Madge— pity me ; stay and explain. No, she has 
 gone. Marry him, and destroy her peace forever ; but she has not 
 hesitated to destroy mine. 
 
 Dr. Fair. (Aside.) I never did believe that two women could 
 agree without a quarrel. Poor child ! she ought to have more 
 sense. She must be very fond of him. Well, what's that to me? 
 Dr. Fairlie, you're a selfish old fool ; you would like to part 
 them, because you fancy she might content herself with another. 
 Bah, you're an ass. {Moving to Agnes, and 2y(itting her on the head.) 
 Mrs. Malcolm said, patience, Agnes, and I say patience too. We'll 
 make it all right by and by, I promise you ; and you can trust me. 
 We shall see, Aggie, my lass. You must*^be very fond of him. {Going 
 towards door ) "Mind what I have told you ; be patient till you hear 
 from me. {Aside.) There is going to be an explosion directly, and 
 that devil Strathroy is firing the train. The daughters dare not 
 betray him ; that would be a severe breach of filial aflfection ; but, 
 d_n\he old blackguard, he's no kin to me. Why may not I deliver 
 up the rebel, and save them? Doubtless some means might be found 
 to save his life. If I leave him alone, I sacrifice the happiness of the 
 whole household. A man's conscience and a man's duty should go 
 hand in hand, although his feelings may not join them. Here, con- 
 science, duty, and feeling urge me to rescue four creatures at the 
 expense of one lunatic {Pauses, takes snuff , and closes box with a 
 snaji.) The majority carries the day. 
 
 {Enter Spence, l. 1 e.) 
 
 {To Spence.) You are just in time; there is a recruit that needs 
 bracing up with a little manual exercise. {Exit, l. 1 e. Spence 
 goes tip to Agnes, throivs his arms aro7ind her, and kisses her.) 
 
 Agnes. {Jumping up.) Let me go, sir, let me go, or (Spence 
 
 kisses her again.) I detest you. 
 
 Spence. I would think you were jesting, Agnes, if you did not 
 look so much in earnest. 
 
 Agnes. I am in earnest. Go away. I don't want to see you again ; 
 I hope to forget you. I hope oh, I hope I may die. 
 
 Spence. Then / should be sorry. 
 
 Agnes. Would you ? No, no, you would not ; you would be glad, 
 for you are a cruel — a — wicked — and a false man. {Throwing her 
 head on his shoulder.) 
 
 Sjience, Come, come, Aggie — there is some mistake here — give 
 me a chance to remove it. 
 
 Agnes. You cannot, you cannot — nobody can. 
 
 Spence. Let us know what it is first. I swear, by every thing on 
 earth, that I am true to you. Now tell me what is the matter. 
 
 Agnes. {Faintly ) Answer me one question and I will believe you. 
 
SCENE I.] LOVE AND JEALOUSY. 47 
 
 Spence. A million, if that will satisfy you. 
 
 Affiles. One will do, and try to be serious. Where did you go 
 yesterday after leaving this house ? 
 
 Spence, I returned to the camp. 
 
 Agnes. {Sharplij.) Ay, you returned to the camp; and with 
 whom ? Don't speak, don't tell me a lie. 
 
 Spence. {Aside.) Mrs. Malcolm can take this home to herself. 
 She assured me her visit had nothing to do with the Pretender's 
 cause, and I promised secrecy. Oh, if I could but retract my word, 
 and spare this poor girl's feelings. (To Agnes.) You ask me to 
 reveal another's secret. 1 have promised to be silent even to you. 
 I cannot break my word. 
 
 Agnes. You prefer to part with me. 
 
 Spence. I would sacrifice anything rather than vex you, Agnes, 
 but you yourself would blame me if I were coward enough to betray 
 a confidence reposed in me, and especially the confidence of a hidy, 
 who, at the moment, had no one to trust but me. 
 
 Agnes. "Who was the lady ? 
 
 Spence. I haj^ told you perhaps more than I should have done. 
 You must be satisfied with that. 
 
 Agnes. Enough, sir. I am satisfied that the man who cannot 
 trust me with the knowledge of every action of his life, is not the 
 man who should become my husband. 
 
 {Enter Gen'l Kerr and Uy xs , followed by Margaret, l. 1 e.) 
 
 Gen. Kerr. {To Kyan.) Keep the men well concealed, but at 
 the same time watch every entrance. {Exit Ryan, l. 1 e.) At 
 length, Strathroy, thanks to Fairlie, you are in my power. But how 
 could he get shelter here ? 
 
 Spence. {To Agnes.) I do not know what ridiculous sus- 
 picion has got into your head ; but here is my uncle, and I will 
 compel you to own how little I have deserved this doubt of my 
 sincerity. {To Kerr,) I must speak to you. General Kerr, for an 
 instant, and beg you to help me out of a strait before you proceed 
 farther. 
 
 Gen. Kerr. Go on, Lawrence, I can spare you an instant. 
 
 Science. I am glad you are here, Mistress Malcolm ; you are 
 interested in the service I am about to ask of my uncle. {To Kerr ) 
 As my guardian, General Kerr, you have the first right to know the 
 lady I have chosen for my wife. She is here. {Presenting Agnes.) 
 Will you ask Mistress Malcolm for her consent to my union with 
 her sister ? 
 
 Mar. {Aside.) Should my father hear this, his vengeance will 
 fall upon me. 
 
 Gen. Kerr, You have chosen well, Lawrence ; I could not have 
 wished you a better wife. I am sure Mrs. Malcolm will join me in 
 congratulating you. 
 
 Agnes. {Aside.) How she trembles. 
 
 Gen. Kerr. You do not speak. Madam. I trust there is no 
 obstacle on your side to mar the happiness of these young folks. I 
 will undertake to satisfy you of my nephew's position and prospects. 
 
48 LOTE AND JEALOUSY. [aCT IV. 
 
 They understand each other, and there is nothing needed but your 
 consent. 
 
 Mar. I am somewhat distressed by this demand — and — and — 
 without offence, would ask time to consider — to arrange, in fact, 
 for the change which this marriage would effect in my affairs. 
 
 Gen. KeiV'. Certainly, Madam, certainly. You can give your 
 consent now, and consider afterwards. 
 
 Mar. I cannot give my consent, and I cannot explain why. 
 
 Silence. You cannot, ^ Madam ? You must not withdraw the 
 promise you gave me. 
 
 Mar. There are reasons and circumstances which compel me to act 
 thus strangely. 
 
 Agnes. (Aside.) How she loves him! Nay, Madge, although 
 you'have destroyed my happiness, I will be generous, and spare you. 
 There is but one alternative. (To Spence.) Ay, circumstances have 
 occurred which she cannot explain, but I will. This marriage cannot 
 take place. 
 
 Spence. Agnes, Agnes, what are you saying? 
 
 Agnes. Oh, sir, cease this pretense 1 understand it all. {To 
 
 Kerr.) This marriage cannot take place, sir; not because it wants 
 my sister's consent, but because it wants mine. Captain Spence, I 
 refuse to be yowv wife, 
 
 Spence. Eefuse ! And why ? 
 
 Agnes. Do you press me for the reason? Then I will tell 
 you. It is because truth and loyalty can never join hands with 
 treason. 
 
 Mar. (Aside.) What is she about to say ? 
 
 Ge7i. Kerr. Treason ! That is an ugly word to use against an 
 officer of my staff. I trust you will explain your meaning. 
 
 Agnes. I have said treason, but it is not treason to the State; it 
 
 is treason to a trusting woman, and (Aside.) Oh, what am I 
 
 about to do. Plunge Madge into deeper shame before the eyes of all 
 here ? No. He does not know my true name — I will try that, and 
 save us both. 
 
 Gen. Kerr. Proceed. 
 
 Agnes. I commit to you. Captain Spence, to ask General Kerr if 
 he will favor your union with Agnes Murray, daughter of the pro- 
 scribed Earl of Strathroy. 
 
 Mar. (Aside ) She has betrayed us. Oh, Agnes, how could you 
 do it, how could you do it ? 
 
 Geji. Kerr. The daughter of Strathroy ! Then, this lady is the 
 wife of Oliphant Elvanlee? 
 
 Agnes. Oh, what have I done? I have ruined you, Madge, I 
 have ruined you. 
 
 Gen. Kerr.^ No, by Heaven, I will never sanction such an union. 
 But there must be some mistake here. Speak, Madam, is it true 
 that 3^ou are the Lady of Elvanlee ? 
 
 Mar. It is true. 
 
 Gen. Kerr. (Aside.) Strathroy 's presence here is at length ex- 
 plained. The proscribed father seeks refuge beneath a sorrow- 
 stricken daughter's roof. I pity her, from my heart, I pity her, but 
 I must do my duty. 
 
SCENE I.] LOVE AND JEALOUSY. 49 
 
 [Enter Strang hurriedly^ l 1 e.) 
 
 Cul. Sirang (To Makgaret.) Be calm. I have come to save 
 your father. He has been betrayed ; but trust me — I will hazard 
 everything for your sake. (To Kerr.) I have been seeking you, 
 General, with the strangest tidings. 
 
 Ge)i Kerr. Strange tidings ! You are too late, sir, if you meant 
 to surprise me. Nothing can astonish me more than what I have 
 heard within the last minute. Dotf your hat, sir, and salute the 
 Lady of Elvanlee, and the daughters of the rebel Strathroy. {Strang 
 stca^ts, astonished.) 
 
 Spence. The fault is not theirs, General, that Strathroy still clings 
 to the man he recognizes as king. It is not their fault that Oliphant 
 betrayed the high trust reposed in him. You will not, sir, you can- 
 not destroj^ my happiness for a single prejudice. 
 
 Gen. Kerr. The prejudice of a nation, sir, must be respected. 
 Your happiness ! Speak to me of your honor and I will answer you. 
 
 Spence. My honor is involved in the pledge I have given this 
 lady. 
 
 Gen. Kerr. Enough, sir ; so long as you claim my friendship, do 
 not speak to me of this engagement. 
 
 Spence. [To Agnes.) Are you satisfied with what you have 
 done ? 
 
 Agnes. You are free — what more do you want ? 
 
 (Agnes exit into house.) 
 
 Gen. Kerr. It is well you are parted. You cannot relieve your- 
 self too soon of a family of traitors. 
 
 Mar. This is enough of insult, General Kerr. Kespect a woman's 
 position. I would not have asked your respect, had this hand been 
 fit to use a sword. 
 
 Gen. Kerr. I mean no insult, Madam, and of course I expect you 
 to defend Oliphant. 
 
 Mar. I do not defend him. I declare him innocent ; he was no 
 traitor. 
 
 Gen. Kerr. You cannot say otherwise. 
 
 Mar. I say it, because I know the truth; and, before the Great 
 Judge of all, his honor will weigh in the balance even with your 
 own, General Kerr. 
 
 Gen. Kerr. I should be sorry to disturb your convictions, Madame, 
 but, if he was innocent, who was guilty ? ( Margaret hows her head. ) 
 You are silent. Good. Silence is a prudent answer to unpleasant 
 questions. 
 
 (Fairlie and Coupland enter at hack, r. Coupland endeavours to 
 tear himself away, and rush to Margaret; hut Dr. Fairlie re- 
 strains him. They stand hack of the tree. Kerr moves towards 
 house.) 
 
 Col. Strang. I must crave your hearing, General, for a few 
 minutes; I have something to say which i trust will restore this 
 unfortunate lady to your esteem. 
 
50 LOVE AND JEALOUSY. [ACT IV. 
 
 Gen. KeiT. My esteem, sir, she has not lost; but I must pity her 
 the more. 
 
 Col. Strcmg. You will give her something more than pity when 
 you have heard me. Lift up your head, Madam; there is no shame 
 in any act of yours to bow it down. You cannot doubt, General, 
 that I hate O'liphant and Strathroy as thoroughly as any honest 
 man should ; but, at the same time, I admire the courage of this 
 lady, and her devotion to our cause. 
 
 Gen. Kerr. To our cause ? 
 
 Col. Strang. I have said to our cause, and I will prove to 3-ou, 
 General, that she belongs to us, for to-morrow, I, Colonel Henry 
 Strang — whose fealty to'the government no one will dare to ques- 
 tion — I will marry the widow of Oliphant of Elvanlee. 
 
 Dr. Fair. (Aside.) Good Heavens! what is the meaning of 
 that ? 
 
 Cou]}. (71) Fairlie ) What— what is it he says? 
 
 Gen. Kerr. How! You are to marry her ! 
 
 Col. Strang. That is the honor in store for me. 
 
 Gen. Kerr. I regret I cannot congratulate you, Colonel Strang. 
 
 Couji. {Grasjnng Fairlie's fir?/i.) ^SAe does not say he lies ? 
 
 Dr. Fair. For the Lord's sake, man, bide here a minute till I 
 find out what this means. (Advanchig to Margaret.) I don't 
 think you heard what was said, Madam. It can't be possible that 
 you have agreed to accept the Colonel. 
 
 Mar. I have heard — it is true. 
 
 Corip. [Aside.) She owns it — she confesses it. 
 
 Col. Strang. And why not, Doctor, since she has worn widow's 
 weeds almost a year. 
 
 Dr. Fair. Widow's nonsense, sir. She is no — Eh? {taking snvff^) 
 ay, why not? She told me she'd never surrender her liberty to man 
 again, and I believed her, or else you might have had a rival in me, 
 sir. But it is quite possible that she should change her mind. You 
 are a sW rascal, Colonel, and widow's weeds are weeds. (Flourish- 
 ing handkerchief.) 
 
 Coup. {Advancing J and stepping between Margaret and Strang.) 
 Everything is possible to the foithless — is it not? 
 
 Mar. {Aside.) Great Heaven ! Malcolm here ! 
 
 Coup. Your husband is dead, then — Is he not? He is dead, and 
 there is no other who has a claim upon your fidelity. 
 
 Mar. (Aside.) Oh ! merciful Father fill his heart with faith. 
 Let hi)n look into my face and recognize my agony ! Let him look 
 into my eyes and read there the truth of my love \ 
 
 Col. Strang. Who is this man ? 
 
 Cou]). (Turning to him.) Sergeant Coupland is the man, at your 
 service. Colonel. 
 
 Gen. Kerr. Where is your pass, sir. 
 
 Coup. I have none. General. 
 
 Gen. Kerr. Do you know to what penalty you have exposed 
 yourself by leaving your post ? 
 
 Coup. Yes, General, I have considered all. I have considered 
 the hazards of my position — and accepted them. 
 
 Ge)i. Kerr. Are you mad, sir, or drunk? 
 
SCENE I.] LOVE AND JEALOUSY. 51 
 
 Coujp. Mad, perhaps, your ExcellencA', but not drunk. If General 
 Kerr pleases to remember the faithful services and liitherto good 
 conduct of his follower, he will probably pardon the olfence. But if 
 he desires to present to his army a severe example of the penalty of 
 insubordination, he will cause him to be shot or hung before the day 
 is out. In either case. General, I shall endeavor to prove myself a 
 worthy follower of the brave commander I have served. 
 
 Gen. Kerr. Ketire, sir, retire ; we will consider your oifence 
 another time. 
 
 Coup. One instant, General. I have asked this lady a question. 
 She knows I have the right to demand the answer — and'l wait for it. 
 
 Col. Strang. By what right, insolent scoundrel, do you dare to 
 question this lady ? 
 
 Coujy. Your answer, Madam. 
 
 Col. Strang. By Heaven ! if you disobey another instant, I'll 
 have you whipped from the place like a disobedient cur. 
 
 Coup. Your answer. [Strang grasps him.) 
 
 Gen. Kerr. {Interfering.) You forget. Sergeant Coupland, it is 
 Colonel Strang who speaks. You forget 
 
 Coup. Pardon me, your Excellenc}', I forget nothing. You do 
 not understand how I am placed ; by and by I will explain, and you 
 will pity or shoot me, I do not care which. 
 
 Gen. Kerr. Be wise, and retire. 
 
 Coup. Not yet, your Excellency. I am obstinate — you will 
 excuse if you do not pardon me, when you know why. You think 
 me insolent for daring to intrude on the attention of this brave lady ; 
 but ladies of higher place have stooped before, and humbler men 
 than I have dared to love them. That is not all — bid her tell the 
 rest. See how dumb she is — challenge her to speak — see how she 
 trembles — charge her to say why — see how pallid is her cheek. — Oh, 
 Heaven, command her to declare the truth — that if false to me she 
 is a perjured and dishonored woman. 
 
 Mar. Oh ! must I bear all this ! I must be silent. It is for his 
 sake. 
 
 Col. Strang. [Aside.) Decidedly I will have this fellow shot. 
 Answer the fool, Madam, and let him go. 
 
 Co2ip. Ay, answer the fool, Madam, and let him go. 
 
 Mar. (With an effort.) You have mistaken your position and 
 mine, sir. What answer can I give to the effrontery which dares to 
 charge me wnth perjury and dishonor? 
 
 Co?//?. Tell this man, then, that he was mistaken — that you cannot 
 be his wife. 
 
 Mar. What answer can I give to this madness, sir ? 
 
 Cou]^. Madness ! 
 
 Mar. I do not know you, sir. 
 
 Co2(p. Margaret ? 
 
 Mar. 1 do not know you, I can only surmise that you are some 
 weak creature, who has neither courage nor faith. 
 
 Coujy. Not know me ? Oh, then I will probe your memory to the 
 
 quick ; for here, in the presence of General Kerr, I do deliver 
 
 (Aside) What am I about to do? Murder myself and leave them 
 free to laugh at my fate ? — No, I'll bide my time — I'll plot and scheme 
 
52 LOVE AND JEALOUSY. [ACT IV. 
 
 till I wreak on them retaliation for this perfidy. You have heard 
 her sirs ; you laugh at me, and you do not shudder at her infamy. 
 Oh, but I am only a petty soldier, a thing to carry a gun, to shoot 
 down the foes of my country and be shot in return. But she is a 
 lady, and has only amused her leisure hours with my miser3^ You 
 are right — it is a subject for sport. I am a fool, and ought to have 
 known the treacher}^ and falsehood of women. [Laughing hoarsely.) 
 Why, I laugh at my own folly, now I have grown wiser by your 
 instruction. 
 
 Dr. Fair. (In a loiv tone.) Coupland, for the Lord's sake, re- 
 member. 
 
 Coup. Oh, I remember — Margaret — save me — save me from 
 myself — from this demon that has got possession of me. Speak only 
 one word — say this man lies — I will believe j'ou, though your acts, 
 your life, and all the world should conspire to prove you false. [As 
 Margaret is about to speak, Strang separates them.) You do not 
 answer — you — oh, woman! I curse you! curse you! and I hate you! 
 
 Mar. [Aside.) And I love you. [Her head falls , and Coupland 
 hastens to her, but Fairlie stops him.) 
 
 Col. Strang You have heard this man. General, with more 
 patience than most men. You have heard his insults, you have 
 heard her answer. You cannot doubt her word. 
 
 Gen. Kerr. The man risks too much to speak entirely without 
 warrant. 
 
 Col. Strang. He is a deserter, your Excellency, and a deserter from 
 a post on which the whole success of last night's movements may 
 depend. So pardon me, if I think his Grace of Cumberland might 
 consider such clemency a dangerous foe to the discipline of your 
 forces. 
 
 Gen. Kerr. [Lifting his hat.) I am your debtor. Colonel Strang, 
 for this reminder of my duty. Pronounce judgment against the man 
 yourself. You have served his Grace longer, and better than I. 
 
 Col. Strang. I dare not do that in the presence of my superior, 
 and besides my indignation against the knave unfits me to be his 
 judge. But I do ask your permission to remove this lady in doors, 
 or remove this rufiian instantly. 
 
 Gen. Kerr. [To Spence.) Conduct Sergeant Coupland to the 
 camp. I will accept his parole that he will not leave his quarters 
 till I examine his case. 
 
 Dr. Fair. [To Coupland.) Don't stand there like a fool. There 
 never was a man had such a narrow escape, and never was one who 
 knows so little how to profit by it. Come away. 
 
 Coup. I have heard. Move on, sir, I will follow you. 
 
 [Exeunt Spence, Coupland, and Fairlie, l. 1 e.) 
 
 Gen. Kerr. Now, sir, since the man has been removed, I must 
 ask you to conduct this lady and her sister to our head-quarters. 
 
 Col. Strang. You do not mean, General, that you arc to arrest two 
 ladies under my protection ? 
 
 Gen. Kerr. Whether they become prisoners or not wnll depend 
 upon after events. [E.veunt Strang and Margaret, l. 1 e.) 
 
 Gen. Kerr. [Solus.) Now, that they are gone, for Strathroy. I 
 could not arrest him in their presence, for he will fight to the death. 
 
SCENE I.] LOVE AND JEALOUSY. 53 
 
 [Enter Fairlie, l. 1 e.) 
 
 Dr. Fair. You will save him if you can, General ? On my soul ! 
 — since I have come to the point, I am sorry I told you. 
 
 Gen. Kerr. Console yourself, Dr. Fairlie, you have saved the lives 
 of thousands. 
 
 Dr. Fair. Yes ; but the thousands won't thank me for it. And, 
 
 confound it, sir, d n the word I would have said, had I not hoped 
 
 to have saved his neck at the last moment. "Will you help me? 
 
 Gen. Kerr. Help you, in what way ? 
 
 Dr. Fair. By allowing me to dispatch a messenger to President 
 Forbes. 
 
 Gen. Kerr. Assuredly. But remember, the Duke controls every- 
 thing. 
 
 Dr. Fair. I understand ; but I will try Forbes against him at 
 any rate. Give me a pass ; the man Johnstone will be my courier. 
 
 Gen. Kerr. Ccme with me, then, and I will give you the pass. 
 
 [Exeun-f, L. 1 e.) 
 
 [Eoiter Steathkoy from Ilonse, cnvehj^cd in a cloak. He iralks 
 cautioiisly around the sfage, and is 2}'>'oceeding towards the back, 
 whe7i General Kerr confronts him, l. 3 e.) 
 
 Strath. "What's your will with me? Ye canna mean to harm an 
 auld man like me, that might be your granny. 
 
 Gen. Kerr. The mask is well played, my Lord, but I was pre- 
 pared for it. Lewis Murray, Earl of Strathroy, I arrest you for 
 high treason, in the name of King George. (Kerr draws his j^istol. 
 Strathroy throws off his disguise, and draws his.) 
 
 Strath. For two minutes. General Kerr, we are man to man. 
 We are equally armed, and before your men can reach us, one of us 
 will be dead. Before we try which it will be, I ask you to give 
 me a fair start of your blood-hounds, and so save for George of 
 Hanover, his worthiest General. [Squad of Soldiers hcai^d ad- 
 varicing.) 
 
 Gen. Kerr. [Levelling his 2^istol.) My life is devoted to the 
 service of the country. 
 
 Strath. [Taking aim.) And mine is for the king. I have oiFerecI 
 terms 
 
 Ge7i. Kerr. And I have answered. 
 
 Strath. So be it ; at least let us tire together. Count three with 
 
 me. ( They count " owe " " ^wo " a ynusket shot is heard. Droj)- 
 
 pi7ig his right ai^m to his side,) Treachery !• (Soldiers rush %ipon hhn^ 
 from L. 2 e. He fires, one falls, hut before he can raise his jiistol, theyi 
 surround and bind him.) 
 
 TABLEAU.— Curtain. 
 
54 LOYE AND JEALOUSY. [ACT V. 
 
 ACT V. 
 
 Scene I. — Hall in (Quarters of Gen'l Kerr. In c. r. a large ivindow 
 looking out on terrace, and over it is a gallery running the breadth 
 of the stage. On the gallery are tJiree ivindoxos ; stej^s ascend to it, 
 L. C. All the windows are heavily curtained, and the room is well 
 furnished. Writing materials, and a case contai7iing a pair of 2>istols 
 are 07i the table. Kerr is seated at table, R., and Fairlie stands 
 beside him. 
 
 Dr. Fair. How long since you received the Duke's dispatch ? 
 
 Gen. Kerr. About half an hour, and measures are now being 
 taken to put them into execution. 
 
 Dr. Fair. You are resolved, then, that the execution is to take 
 place in the morning ? 
 
 Gen. Kerr. I have no alternative. My instructions are explicit — 
 to give him no quarter, if he refused to deliver up all who were 
 involved wntli him in the conspiracy. He has refused — as I knew he 
 would ; and, if he lives till to-morrow, Cumberland's instructions 
 must be obeyed. 
 
 Dr. Fair.^ I hope he wont live, then. I believe, if there w^ere 
 time allowed for a petition, we might save his head, in spite of all he 
 has done. 
 
 Gen. Kerr. I would join you in the petition willingly, for he was 
 a brave soldier. But think of something else — how is her Ladyship? 
 
 Dr. Fair. The capture of her father has sorely atfected her, and I 
 do not know how to tell her that the sentence has been so speedily 
 pronounced. 
 
 Gen. Kerr. She has guessed it already, I dare say; so you need 
 not trouble yourself. What of her sister? 
 
 Dr. Fair. Poor child, she can hardly move or speak. She blames 
 herself for it all, on account of the foolish pet in which she revealed 
 herself to you. There is no medium with a woman, sir — it is either 
 all right or all wrong with her — I love you or I hate you. 
 
 Gen. Kerr. She was ignorant, then, that the rebel was in the 
 house ? 
 
 Dr. Fair. She was ignorant of every thing. Lady Olipbant kept 
 the secret and the sorrow to herself. 
 
 Gen. Kerr. She is a brave woman ! I admire her courage and 
 devotion, and I wish I could help her. But we must strike promptly, 
 for an attempt to rescue Strathroy is on foot. We have doubled the 
 guard, and every soldier has been instructed, on peril of his life, to 
 let no one pass without a written order, and to shoot any one that 
 may be seen prowling about the place. {A disturbance is heard out- 
 side. The door is pushed opoi, and Margaret enters xcith Guard, 
 L. 2 E., who attempts to keep her back.) 
 Mar. I must see the General. 
 
 Gen. Kerr. Admit her. [Exit Guard, l. 2 e.) 
 
 Dr. Fair. [Aside.) She knows the worst. 
 
 Mar. Forgive me, sir, for forcing my way to you — I know my 
 visit is untimely, and that I have come to ask you what you may not 
 
SCENE I.] LOVE AND JEALOUSY. 55 
 
 have in your power to grant. But. in despair, we clutch at the 
 feeblest rays of light, and try to cheat ourselves by fancying it is not 
 dark. They tell me that — that my father is to die to-morrow. 
 
 Gen. Kerr. Such are the Duke's commands. 
 
 Mar. But I have come to you, sir, to beg a few days respite, until 
 we can communicate with friends who may have influenee with the 
 Government. 
 
 G'n. Kerr. I grieve to say, Madam, that it is impossible for me 
 to delay. 
 
 Mar. [Fallinfi on her knees^ and grasping one of his hands. ) Mercy ! 
 General, mercy ! It is only a few days I am begging. I know that 
 he is guilty in your eyes. (Proudly.) I do not try to exculpate him. 
 It is only mercy I am sueing for, and I dare not speak of justice. Ah, 
 sir ! your hair is white, like my father's, and your heart is kind. 
 You too might have had a daughter like me. Think of her placed 
 as I am, and say what should be the answer of the man to whom she 
 knelt, as I to you ? 
 
 Gen. Kerr. [Turning away his head.) Bise, Madam, rise. 
 
 Mar. ' I will not till you have answered me. It is only a little 
 boon I crave, onW a few days of life to one, who is no criminal 
 further than being too faithful to an unfortunate king. You are 
 strong — you will be merciful. Stretch your authority a little way, 
 and give me time to plead his cause before the stern judges who have 
 condemned him unheard. 
 
 Gen. Kei^r. If honor permitted me to stretch the limit of duty, 
 trust me. Madam, it should be done for your sake. I pity you — I 
 respect him — but what you ask I dare not grant. 
 
 Mar. ( Clasping her hands, and le^ing her head fall upon her 
 breast.) Then, Heaven receive his soul, and pardon those who doom 
 him ! 
 
 Gen. Kerr. Try to comfort her, Fairlie. I have never found 
 duty so hard to fulfil as mine to-night. {Exit, R. 2 e.) 
 
 Dr. Fair. (Aside.) Comfort her? Time must do that — he is the 
 only comforter of despair. There is only one prescription for her 
 ailment — accept the inevitable and look to the possible. (To Mar- 
 garet.) Bouse yourself, my poor child Before morning your 
 father will be beyond the influence of prayers or tears. He has been 
 too seriously wounded to survive the night. Bouse yourself, then ; 
 leave him to the unfiling mercy of Heaven, and think of your own 
 atfairs (tohispering) of Ollphant. 
 
 Mar. (Rising to her feet.) Thank you— good, true friend. You, 
 for one, never doubted me. 
 
 Dr. Fair. I will doubt instantly, unless you show yourself worthy 
 of my confidence, by becoming calm and stead}^ to face the dangers 
 that environ you. You once told me that every woman was a hero, 
 and, upon my soul ! there never was a woman who had so fair a 
 chance to prove herself one, as you have to-night. 
 
 Ma-. I will obey you, sir. I wipe away my tears — I have done 
 with them. I think of my father as already "^beyond the reach of 
 mortal pain. The dead need none of our care, none of our sorrow — 
 it is the living who need all. Show me what is to be done, and you 
 will find me calm and subtle as the foes w^e have to cope with. 
 
56 LOVE AND JEALOUSY. [ACT V. 
 
 Dr. Fair. St. Andrew and JEsculapius be my witnesses ! I begin 
 to think your boast, spoicen in jest, sober earnest. Have you told 
 Aggie that Olipbant lives ? 
 
 Mar. Yes, when it was too late. Oh ! Doctor, had I but told her 
 at first, what a world of woe would we have been spared. 
 
 Dr. Fair. True! true! but don't think of that. Listen; there is 
 a person much to be feared on your husband's account, a foe treach- 
 erous and unscrupulous — Colonel Strang. He already more than 
 suspects the real character of Sergeant Coupland, and has issued 
 orders for his arrest on a charge of treason. If Olipbant does not 
 escape before midnight, he will be a prisoner before morning. 
 
 Mar. I am not unprepared for this. I have every thing in readi- 
 ness for our flight. He will be here presently, and we will escape 
 together. I have written him to meet me here. 
 
 Dr. Fair, [Starting.) Olipbant coming here ! ^Esculapius! again 
 bear witness — I think fate itself is against us. He will be shot — Oli- 
 pbant, I mean — shot before he gains entrance, or, if he do get in, 
 he will be shot afterwards, and that is much the same thing. 
 
 Mar. [E.vcitedly.) I will go and meet him. 
 
 Dr. Fair. You can't. Strathroy is here, and you will not be per- 
 mitted to pass. I dare not leave the General, and I have sent John- 
 stone post-haste to Edinburgh. What, in the name of all the Saints 
 in the calendar of medicine, shall I do ? 
 
 Mar. (Quickh/.) There is one friend you have forgotten. Cap- 
 tain Spence will help us. 
 
 Dr. Fair. That's the mani Your head is clearer than mine, after 
 all. I shall end mj admiration of you by marrying somebody. The 
 Captain will go, and he shall take two or three men with him, so 
 that he may use force, if necessar}^, to compel Olipbant to abandon 
 his mad purpose of seeing you to-night. Courage ! Madam, courage! 
 and hope still. (Exit, L. 2 e.) 
 
 Mar. (Solus.) Oh ! ni}'^ God ! when the heart is bursting, how 
 hard it is to say " Thy will be done." What a sad fate is mine ! My 
 father within this house — perhaps within the sound of my voice — 
 vd^ang, or living to perish under a traitor's doom. A few steps will 
 carry me to his prison, and yet I dare not go to him to pray with 
 him — to comfort his last moments with a daughter's love. My poor 
 father ! My poor father ! Oh ! forgive me whatever wrong I have 
 done you, whatever pain I have caused you. But I must think of 
 the living. Malcolm is to be saved. Will Dr. Fairlie be in time to 
 intercept him ? If he should fail to find Captain Spence, or, worst 
 of all, suppose Colonel Strang should find me here and detain me, 
 Malcolm's escape Avould be impossible. How can I prevent that? 
 There is but one way. (Sitting at table, and taking 2^en.) 1 will 
 write to Colonel Strang, and make an appointment to meet him here 
 to-morrow at eight. That is remote enough to aftord time for escape. 
 
 ( Writes.) " My dear Colonel Strang " (Pauses.) What ! must I 
 
 write a love letter to him! The man I loathe ! No ! I cannot do it. 
 ( Throws down pen. ) 
 
 Sent. (Outside.) Who goes there ? 
 
 Mar. Merciful Powers ! it cannot be Malcolm ! 
 
 Sent. (Outside) Stand, in the king's name. (Sounds of ynusketry 
 and tramping of feet, ^-c.) 
 
I 
 
 SCENE I.] LOVE AND JEALOUSY. 57 
 
 Mar. [Throtolng hack curtain^ and letting a flood of moonlight into 
 the i'oo77i.) Heavens ! there is a man running, and soldiers in pur- 
 suit. It is Malcolm ! and they will kill him ! kill him there before 
 my eyes ! God — save him ! Is there no escape — no help ? Great 
 God ! they are gaining: on him. {Seizing one of the pistols 07i table.) 
 1 can bear no more — they shall not kill him ! (Fires the pistol, then 
 staggers, falls and faints. Couplah^d passes quickie/, L. to R., in back- 
 ground, and conceals himself in the shadow of the house. Strathroy 
 leaps through the windoio quickly, although he is very iceak. He does 
 not perceive Margaret.) 
 
 Strath. Aha ! treacherous devils as you are, weak, ay, and dying 
 as I am, I'll outwit you yet. But I must have strength, even if it 
 be to crawl to some kennel, and there breathe my last. My very 
 life's blood seems to be oozing from my wound. What is this? a 
 stairway to the gallery? I'll make that a hiding-place until escape 
 is possible. Courage ! Strathroy, courage ! There is work yet to be 
 done — work yet to be done. (Goes np stairs and secretes himself 
 behind heavy cm^tains, just as Ryan, Hot>gts, and four Soldiers enter, 
 tvith much noise, through ivindoio.) 
 
 Ryan. Are ye sure ye saw him come this way ? 
 
 Hodge. Didn't ye see him yourself? 
 
 Ryan. How could I, when that bullet whistled through my sleeve 
 and nearly kilt me, and blinded me entirely ? 
 
 Hodge. Do you keep your ej^es in your cuff? I tell you I saw 
 him run in at that window there, and there's an open door. He's off 
 that way— after me, two of you. 
 
 {Exeunt Hodge and, two Soldiers, r. 3 e.) 
 
 Ryan. The rest of ye see where these doors lead to, and I'll keep 
 guard here, {Exeunt Soldiers, r. and l.) 
 {Stumbling over jnstol.) "What's that, now? A pistol, and warm too? 
 {Examining it.) Bedad! this is the thing that nearly settled Sergeant 
 Kyan's affairs. There are traitors here, then, anyhow, and {Per- 
 ceiving Margaret.) Muther of Moses ! — a woman in a faint. Poor 
 creature, she's been frightend out of her seven senses. {Raises Mar- 
 garet.) 
 
 Mar. {Faiyitly.) Is he dead? 
 
 Ryan. No, Ma'am, there's nobody dead yet, but there will be, by 
 and by. 
 
 Mar. {Regarding him.) Ah, it is you ! You are his friend — you 
 will save him ! 
 
 Ryan. Is it me ye ax to save the ugly gossoon ? He's here, then, 
 up there maybe? \Pointing to gall oy.) I'll show ye how I'll save 
 him. {Moves toivards gallery.) 
 
 Mar. {Springing after him.) It was Coupland. There was no 
 treason in his purpose. He came here to to see me. 
 
 Rya7i. {Scratching his head.) That's it, is it? Coupland hisself, 
 and on a tryst with ye? Oh, begorra ! I've been spoiling honest sport. 
 Bad luck to him, why couldn't he stop and tell me. Hold a bit— 
 I've seen you before. Ma'am. In the camp, wasn't it? 
 
 Mar. Yes, yes ; you will save him ? 
 
 Ryan. Make your mind aisy. Ma'am ; I'll do my best for ye both. 
 {Taking the other pistol.) 
 5* 
 
58 LOVE AND JEALOUSY, [ACT V. 
 
 Mn7\ Thanks, thanks. But what are you doins; ? 
 
 Ryan. It's all right, Ma'am — he aisy, and stand, behind this cur- 
 tain. (Ma-rq\b.^t obeys him.) 
 
 Mar. But that will bring back your men. 
 
 Ryan. It's that same I mean, Ma'am. (Ryan goes to window and 
 fires; Hodge and Soldiers rush into room.) 
 
 Hodge. Have you seen him ? 
 
 Ryan. Sure enough, he's just gone by, running for the wall, and 
 I tired at him. 
 
 Hodge. And missed— as usual. 
 
 Ryan. Bad luck to it ! Ye can't always hit the mark yourself. 
 After him, now, and don't stand palavering. 
 
 Hodge. Come on, lads. If I only set my eyes on him, he won't 
 get oii' so easy. [Exeunt Hodge and Soldiers, through window.) 
 
 Ryan. Ye can come out, Ma'am. 
 
 Mar. (Corning out.) You have been a true friend to me and a 
 true comrade to Coupland, and, if I live, you shall have proof of my 
 gratitude. 
 
 Ryan. All right, Ma'am, ye can see him in safety now. The boys 
 won't be hack for an hour anyhow. I am going to give them a walk 
 for the good of their health. (Exit through windoiv.) 
 
 Mar. Malcolm — {louder,) Malcolm. (Coupland advances from 
 shadoiv of house, and apj^roachcs window.) In — in! (She closes 
 windoics and ctirtains. Coupland's clothes are disarranged, and he 
 wears no hat. He seats Jumself in a chair, and seems exhausted.) 
 This is a bitter meeting, Malcolm, and yet I am so full of joy at the 
 escape you have just made, that I do not know whether to laugh or 
 tremble most, at your coming. 
 
 Coiip. [Huskily.) You requested me to attend you here, Madam. 
 I have come, and I await the explanation w'hich I presume you intend 
 to give me. Doubtless it will transform the crudest treachery into 
 the most loyal devotion. 
 
 Mar. {Bewildered.) Is that a taunt or a jest? IsTo matter, I 
 have not time to answer it just now, for you must not stay here a 
 moment longer than to say good-bye. 
 
 Coup. (Playing with the letter she had coynmoiced.) Is that. all? 
 
 Mar. "When I sent for you I did not know orders had .been given 
 for your arrest ; and that, in asking you to come to this place, I was, 
 in my blindness, drawing you towards the destruction of all my 
 plans for your safety. 
 
 Coup. Are you sure of that ? 
 
 Mar. How could I have known, and sent for you? As soon as I 
 discovered the danger, I dispatched a faithful friend to meet you and 
 prevent your coming. 
 
 Coup. It was by your direction, then, that Captain Spence and 
 his men attempted to arrest me ? 
 
 Mar. It was by my direction that they attempted to prevent your 
 approaching the General's quarters. 
 
 Coup. (Sarcastically.) I thought as much; but you see I have 
 eluded them, but only to be pressed by Ryan and his squad. But 
 twice I gave them the slip ; once they hunted me out of my hiding 
 place; the second time I succeeded, and, instead of me, they set out 
 
SCENE I.] LOYE AND JEALOUSY. 59 
 
 in pursuit of some poor devil, perhaps, on as fruitless an errand 
 as I am. But, continue. Your explanation promises to be inter- 
 esting. 
 
 Mar. That is a taunt. Can it be that you do not understand my 
 position yet? Can it be that throughout the hours which have 
 passed since morning — weary hours of anguish and suspense to me — 
 no memory of the past has roused you to a sense of the wrong you 
 dome? Are you still blind? 
 
 Coup. No, by Heaven ! my eyes are opened wide at last, and I 
 see you as you are — a false wife and a perjured woman. 
 
 Mar. Oh, Malcolm, yon deprive me of what little courage yet 
 remains to me. 
 
 Coup. What courage ? Is it courage to betray me that fails you ? 
 
 Ma7\ {Angrily ) Dare you say that ? 
 
 Coup. I dare repeat it. Is it courage to betray me that you fear 
 to lose? {Margaret is about to speak.) Peace, woman! your 
 quivering lips proclaim the lie you would utter. When you bade 
 me come here to learn the truth of all that seemed so strange to 
 me, I shuddered at the thought of the cruel wrong I had done you. 
 
 Mar. Think of that now. If you have ever loved me 
 
 Coup. Loved you ? Great Heavens ! How I loved you ! So 
 well, that I was content to be befooled by your shallow artifices ; so 
 well, that I was content to believe anything — to deny the testimony 
 of my own eyes — my own ears — ay, of reason itself, rather than 
 believe you false. And you knew that ; you calculated that my love 
 would be your best ally in cheating me. I came here reckless of 
 life, reckless of the pledge I gave the General not to quit the 
 camp — I came to find your rendezvous a trap to insure my capture 
 and death — I came to find that, at the moment you thought my fate 
 was sealed, you were writing a love letter to your accomplice, 
 Strang. {Shou-s her the letter.) 
 
 Mar. Oh, Heaven forgive you ! 
 
 Coup. What was to follow this pretty introduction ? Shall I fill 
 up the blank which my inopportune arrival made in this tender 
 billet? This is no doubt what you were to write. "My dear 
 Colonel Strang, every obstacle to our union being removed by the 
 execution .of the impertinent person you had the misfortune to 
 encounter this morning, the ceremony may proceed without delay."' 
 Is not that the proposed continuation ? Sit down. Madam, sit down 
 and -finish this letter. Pray do not allow my presence to interrupt 
 you. 
 
 Mar. And you can think these cruel thoughts of me ? 
 
 Coup. Thoughts, Madam ! They are not thoughts— but acts. 
 Oh, if there were any doubt on which to rest a hope, my love would 
 now quickly seize it, and magnify'- it to a mountain's bulk. But 
 there are no doubts — there are no doubts. A moment ago some one 
 fired a shot from the window. — Was it intended for me or my 
 pursuers ? 
 
 Mar. Merciful Powers ! 
 
 Coup. Be silent, for I read your sin in every look. Oh I woman, 
 your guilt stands out so clear before me that I scorn myself for 
 loving you. [Tears paper to j^icces.) 
 
60 LOVE AND JEALOUSY. [ACT V. 
 
 Mar. This is the hardest blow of all. But you suffer — Yes, you 
 must be suffering bitterly, and — I pity you ! Think of me as you 
 will, but at least secure your own safety. Go now. You can still 
 escape by the garden. The Sergeant on guard is your friend, and 
 will permit j^ou to pass. In the ruins of the Cathedral you will find 
 horses in readiness. Speed to the coast, and cross to Holland. Then 
 you will at least believe I have not sought your life. Go without 
 another word — stay another moment, and it will be too late. 
 
 Coup. I understand. You expect the valiant bridegroom here, and 
 wish me out of the way. I am sorry my presence should be inconve- 
 nient. But why distress yourself?' Colonel Strang wall soon relieve 
 you of my importunities. ^ What have you to fear from me — I, who 
 am dead? What right have I to be among the living? Do not trouble 
 vourself, Madam. This ugly skeleton will soon return to its grave, 
 and you shall be at peace, as the wife of Colonel Strang — if yon can. 
 
 Mar. Have you no pity ? You arc killing me, Malcolm. {Cur- 
 tains are,^2^artcd, and Strang stands in the window. They do not 
 perceive hint.) 
 
 Col. Strang. W^hy did not Strathroy wait the signal ? The fool has 
 escaped, for the cord is dangling from the window. But is he be- 
 yond pursuit ? I cannot discover him anywhere unless he be hidden 
 here. If he is clear, then I am safe. What is this? Mrs. Malcolm 
 and that scoundrel from the camp? This time he shall not escape 
 me* ' [Drops curtain, and e.vit.) 
 
 Coup. I came to kill you ; but I v/ill not lift a hand against you. 
 No, no, Madam, your marriage shall go forward. I am here to 
 make you the first'^bridal gift — my life. 
 
 Mar. Oh, you are mad. 
 
 Coup. If you have any heart, I will wring it with agony. I will 
 fasten my memory on you as a curse that will drag you downward 
 until you shall find no'hope in Heaven or on earth. My bridal gift 
 shall be the memory of one who sacrificed honor, ambition — every- 
 thing for your sake, and who died to save you from a crime. Fare- 
 well, Madam, I go now to surrender Malcolm Oliphant, your hus- 
 band, to GenerarKerr. [He goes towards door, R.) 
 
 Mar. [Stopping him.) There is still time for escape. You shall 
 not pass this way. [Places herself in front of him.) 
 
 Coup. Stand aside, you have made" a mockery of my love, but you 
 shall not balk my vengeance 
 
 Mar. Oh, I can bear no more. Have, then, your vengeanc3 to 
 the full ; but first I shall have mine. 
 
 Coup. Yours ? 
 
 Mar. Ay, mine! I will tear the hideous scales of jealousy from 
 your eyes, and show you the truth— that will be my vengeance. 
 
 Coup. I shall welcome all the pain it will inflict ? 
 
 Mar. You talk to me of your love — of your sufferings. Have you 
 forgotten mine? / braved a father's curse, because I loved you. — I 
 came with you to a land which held only the saddest memories for 
 me, because*^! loved you. — I have overcome a woman's fears. Heaven 
 help me! almost a woman's modesty, — I have risked reputation — 
 everything a woman holds precious — submitted to a thousand 
 humiliations of pride and self-respect — all because I loved you. I 
 
SCENE I.] LOVE AND JEALOUSY. 61 
 
 have lived with a falsehood upon my name, and misery upon every 
 hand; and all for you — for you, who come to me now,' mad with 
 suspicions that degrade you and dishonor me. — For you, whose in- 
 gratitude cuts more deeply to my heart than all "the combined 
 sorrows of mj^ life ! For you, whose ravings shame my love. 
 
 Co2t.p. Can this be true ? 
 
 Mar. If it were false, would I endure your reproaches, while 
 every nerve quivers with indignation at the shame your frenzied 
 brain has heaped upon me ? 
 
 Coup. But this marriage with Strang — that letter ? 
 
 3Iar. All a trick to gain time for our escape. 
 
 Coup. Margaret! Margaret! the scales have, indeed, dropped from 
 my eyes, and I see it all. Oh ! stoop a little in your just wrath and 
 pity me ! pity me ! if you cannot forgive me. 
 
 Ma)'. (Embracing hhn, as Strang enters from windoio.) Oh, Mal- 
 colm, I pity you, because I know how you have sutfered ; and I for- 
 give you, because I love j'ou. 
 
 Coil J). Forgiven ! — My own Margaret ! — I must live for your sake. 
 Oh, what a miserable, blind fool I have been — and you forgive me? 
 I will atone for it all yet — we shall escape together, and 
 
 Mar. [Perceiving Strang.) Hush ! It is too late — Colonel Strang 
 is here. 
 
 Col. Strang. {Advancing.) You are engaged, Madam, and I am 
 sorry to interrupt you. 
 
 Mar. You are too considerate, sir. Have you come to seek me ? 
 
 Col. Strang. I have come to serve you. 
 
 Mar. I am your debtor, sir ! — In what manner ? 
 
 Col Strang. By mj' claiming the fulfilment of your promise. I 
 shall not ask you for any explanation of what I have accidently ob- 
 served. Doubtless this fellow has forced himself into your presence. 
 
 Mar. You are wrong, sir. He is here b}'- my request. 
 
 Col. Strang. Madam, reserve your explanation. At this moment 
 your peril is too imminent for me to listen to it. Your father has 
 escaped. 
 
 Mar. Escaped ! Thank Heaven ! 
 
 Col. Strang. Your gratitude does honor to your filial affection, 
 Madam, but it is treasonable. 
 
 Mar. He is my father. Is it a crime to rejoice that he has escaped 
 from the merciless foes who would have murdered him ? 
 
 Col. Strang. It is a crime to speak as you are doing. Be careful, 
 I implore you. You are suspected of being an accomplice of the 
 rebels, and your life will be the forfeit. You must go with me at 
 once. (CouPLAND makes a dash at him., but Margaret restrains 
 hhn.) I have horses ready at the foot of the avenue, and to-morrow 
 you will be in a place of safety with me. 
 
 Coiip. {Aside.) And I must listen to this? 
 
 Mar. With you ? I will not go. 
 
 Col. Strang. 'Will not? You "forget to-morrow is our appointed 
 marriage day. Come, Madam, be wase in time, and go with me at 
 once. 
 
 Mar. I have deceived yon, sir. And I already repent it. I never 
 meant to fulfil the promise you wrung from me by threats which I 
 was not strong enough to defy. 
 
62 LOVE AND JEALOUSY. [ACT V. 
 
 Col. Strang. If you remain, it will be to perish with the knave 
 by your si'de. Choose, Madam, safety with me, or death with him. 
 
 Mar. {Placing her hand hi Coupland's) I have chosen — death 
 with him. 
 
 ■Col. Strang. I understand you now. Your promise was a trick. 
 My devotion and fidelity you have played with, and scorned. You 
 shall learn presently what my hate can do. {He ynoves towards 
 window.) 
 
 Coup. Stay, sir ! You have dared to insult this lady, and, by 
 Heaven ! vou shall answer for it to me. 
 
 Col. Strang. To you ? By what right, sir ? 
 
 Coup. You shall know my right. It is that of 
 
 Mar. [Clutching his arm.) For my sake — not yet. 
 
 Coup. My right is that of — a friend. Will that satisfy you ? It 
 must. Now, Colonel Strang, will you do me the honor to descend to 
 my level — you cannot lift me to yours — and try whether the sword 
 cannot serve you. 
 
 Col. Strang. A duel ? 
 
 Coup. Whj^ not a duel ? Are we not rivals, and there is no other 
 way to arrange our difficulties. 
 
 Col. Strang. You are mistaken. 
 
 Coup. Colonel Strang, as an ofiicer of the King, I salute your 
 authority ; as a man, I say you are a coward. 
 
 Col. Strang. Rutfian ! {Levelling his pistol.) 
 
 Mar. {Throws herself before Coupland.) Me first! (Strang 
 lowers his pistol.) 
 
 Coup. When two men have to settle a dispute that involves life, 
 a lady is out of place. Therefore retire. Madam, into that room. 
 (Margaret goes into room, r.) Now, sir, I wait your answer. 
 
 Col. Strang. I will kill you. 
 
 Coup. When — and where ? 
 
 Col. Strang. Now — here. Are you ready ? 
 
 Coup. I am ready. But I must first find a weapon. 
 
 {Enter Ryan and Hodge through ivindow.) 
 
 Oar friends here will perhaps supply us. The Colonel does me the 
 honor to cross swords with mo. 
 
 Ryan. Is it fight ye mane — in the General's own quarters? Sure 
 its kilt and hung altogether we'll bo for it. 
 
 Coup. The Colonel will see to your safety. It is his command, 
 and you must obey your superior ofiicer. Sergeant Ryan. Is it not 
 so. Colonel? 
 
 Col. Strang. I am waiting. 
 
 Coup. Yovi hear. He is generous. 
 
 Ryan. But what the divil is the row about ? 
 
 Cnip. About a ladj'- whom the Colonel has insulted, 
 
 Ryan. Oh, bad luck to it. an Irishman always takes up for the 
 ladies. God bless them. If it's a lady, sure we can't say no. Here's 
 a sword, my boy, and now — fire away. 
 
 Coup. {Taking sword.) Now, Colonel Strang, I am at your 
 service. 
 
SCENE I.] LOVE AND JEALOUSY. 63 
 
 Col. Sirang. [Coaly sheathing his sword.) I have changed my 
 mind. 
 
 Cou2->. What ! 
 
 Col. Strang. I will not fight with you, Sergeant Coupland, until 
 you have shown me that the woman is worthy of the risk. 
 
 Coup. I appeal to you, comrades. Is not that the coward's 
 excuse — are not these the words of a scoundrel who slanders a help- 
 less woman, and fears to answer for his villany ? 
 
 Col. Strang. I appeal to these men, also. Look you, lads, am I 
 not acting fairly by this fool ? "While this lady is under a promise 
 of marriage to me, she coquettes with Captain Spence, and turns the 
 head of this poor fellow, Coupland, by her deceit. 
 
 Co^vp. It is a lie, comrades. It's a lie. 
 
 Col. Strang. Prove to me that it is false, and my sword shall 
 answer for the slander. 
 
 [Enter Margaret, r.) 
 
 Coup. I'll prove her honest even to your foul mind, Colonel 
 Strang. (Taking her hy the hand.) Listen, comrades. Captain 
 Spence is the lady's friend, and I wnll bear witness to the honesty of 
 her friendship — I, her husband! Malcobn Oliphant, of Elvanlee. 
 
 Col. Strang. I knew I had heard that voice before. It is for this 
 I have been waiting. [Moves towards rvindoio.) 
 
 Mar. [Stoi^ping him.) Villain! You drove him to this; but 
 you have not triumphed yet. Away ! Malcolm, away ! and I will 
 keep the fiend back. 
 
 Col. Sirang. [WrestVmg with Margaret.) Arrest him, there! 
 (Kyan and Hodge 7nake no effort to arrest him, and, as he mtshes 
 toward window, a file of Soldiers j^resent themselves, with muskets 
 leveled, and, immediately, Soldiers rush in from all the doors.) 
 
 Sir Mai. Trapped ! betrayed ! Escape is impossible ! 
 
 Mar. We are lost, Malcolm, but lost together. They cannot 
 separate us now. 
 
 [Enter Kerr a7id Spence, r. 2 e.) 
 
 Col. Strang. [Looks on with malicious tinumph. ) You once felt my 
 love, Margaret Oliphant ; you shall now feel my hate. [To Kerr.) 
 General Kerr, behold in our arrest, the Pretender's spy. Sir Malcolm 
 Oliphant, of Elvanlee. 
 
 Gc7i. Kerr. Is it true, sir ? 
 
 Sir Mai. 1 am Oliphant, of Elvanlee, your Excellency, but no 
 rebel. • I have been, and am a faithful subject of King George of 
 Hanover. 
 
 Gen. Kerr. That is well, sir. I am glad that you have learned to 
 recognize the authority which rules this country. 
 
 Sir Mai. Pardon, General, the authority that rules this country, 
 I have never doubted or questioned. 
 
 Gen. Kerr. Since that is so, your Msehood to the trust you bore 
 becomes the blacker. 
 
 Sir Mai. You speak harshly. General, cruelly, when your words 
 strike at one who is powerless to defend himself. I am no traitor. 
 
64 LOVE AND JEALOUSY. [ACT V. 
 
 Gen. Kerr. Give me proof of 3'our innocence, then, and I, who 
 am about to hand you over to death, will become your friend and 
 advocate. 
 
 8ir Mai. To defend the truth of Oliphant, you have before you 
 Sergeant Coupland. 
 
 Ge?i. Kerr The fact that you are Sergeant Coupland, is rather 
 perilous to the cause of Oliphant, remembering the crime for which 
 he was condemned. 
 
 • Sir Mai. That may be, your Excellency ; it is so, in appearance, 
 but not in truth. I was judged and condemned by men who were 
 too eager to win partisans, by making a terrible example of their 
 political opponents, to weigh, with much nicety, the evidence in the 
 case. 
 
 Gen. Kerr. It is the custom of criminals to exclaim against the 
 wisdom of their judges. 
 
 Sir Mai. I do not exclaim against their wisdom. I only say they 
 were deceived. I protested, and they would not hear me. There 
 were some things in my favor — for instance, on the discovery of the 
 loss of the dispatches, I wrote letters to Colonel Gardiner and Presi- 
 dent Forbes, telling them all. A traitor would not have done that. 
 Those letters did not reach their destination, and their existence was 
 denied on the trial. Ask Colonel Strang what became of those let- 
 ters. They were placed in his hands in Elvanlee, and it was upon 
 the information contained in them that he arrested me. 
 
 Gen. Kerr. (Gravely.) Colonel Strang could have had no reason 
 for suppressing them. 
 
 Sir Mai. He had a good reason. 
 
 Gen Kerr. Name it. (Malcolm hesitates.) 
 
 Mar. I was the reason , General. I refused to marry him, and he 
 revenged himself for it on my brother, whom he betrayed to death, 
 and next upon my husband [Excitedly.) 
 
 Col. Strang. Wait, General, until you have heard what further 
 absurd charges these unfortunate people will bring, against every one 
 who strove to do his duty, at a moment of critical importance, to the 
 government of his country. Then, sir, you will be able to estimate, 
 at their proper value, any charges they may bring against me. 
 
 Gen. Kerr. You shall have an opportunity to ansAver for yourself, 
 sir, when the time comes. [To Malcolm ) Proceed. 
 
 Sir Mai. I escaped the doom pronounced upon me, and I resolved 
 to devote my life to the service in which I had been degraded, hoping, 
 in that way, to win bacjc honor and freedom. Does such conduct 
 mark the traitor ? 
 
 Col. Strang. [To Kerr.) The service of which he boasts, con- 
 veniently enabled him to correspond with the rebels — he could not 
 have taken a better resolve— /o?" them. 
 
 Gen. Kerr. Patience, sir. 
 
 Sir Mai. More than once have you commended the services Ser- 
 geant Coupland has rendered your army. The badge he wears is 
 proof of that. Often his blood has marked, on the field of battle, his 
 loyalty to the cause. Ask his comrades, ask your enemies, if he has 
 ever failed in his duty ? Ask your own heart, sir, if the man who 
 has had the honor to stand between you and death acted as a rebel, 
 or could be the wretched creature we call a spy. 
 
SCENE I.] LOVE AND JEALOUSY. 65 
 
 Gen. Kerr. {After a sJiort 2^ause.) Have you anj'thing further to 
 urge in your defense ? 
 
 Sir Mai. Nothing, General. 
 
 Gen. Kerr. I am sorr}' for that, for it is not o\\\j the offence of 
 the past that condemns you. Last night you deserted an important 
 post ; to-night you have broken your parole, and quitted the camp 
 without leave. As a soldier, I ask you how is such a misdemeanor — a 
 crime in times like these — to be pardoned ? 
 
 Sir Mai. As a soldier, I answer that it is unpardonable. As a 
 man, I saj^ it is to be excused hj the maddening position I have 
 been placed in by the knavery of that man. [Pointing to Strang. ) 
 
 Gen. Kerr. It is as a soldier I must deal with you. 
 
 [Enter Dr. Fairlie, leading Agnes, veiled^ L. 2 e.) 
 
 Dr. Fair. Stay ! General, before you'shoot the man, I have one 
 here who has a word to say in his behalf. 
 
 Gen. Kerr. Who is it ? 
 
 Dr. Fair. Agnes Murray. [She raises her veil — all start.) 
 
 Agnes. [To Malcolm.) It is all my fault that you are here, 
 Malcolm. I know now the cruel wrong I have done 3'ou and 
 Madge ; but I was deceived by my own folly, and the lies of yonder 
 wretch, Strang. 
 
 Sir Mai. My poor Aggie, we have all been deceived, and we pay 
 the penalty. There ! there ! Look up. You are not to blame. 
 Tell her so, Madge; at least give her comfort, if we can find none 
 for ourselves. 
 
 Mar. [Emhracing her.) I cannot speak, Aggie. 
 
 Agnes. Thank you, Madge, and you too, Malcolm. I have h^u 
 most selfish and cruel, but 1 will try and make some amends. [Tn 
 Gen. Kerr, /7>wiZy.) Will it help Sir Malcolm Oliphant, if I can 
 show you that he has been the victim of villainous slanders and yj^.v- 
 secution ? 
 
 Gen. Kerr. It may. 
 
 Agnes. Then here is a letter which Dr. Fairlie has just obtained 
 for me. Colonel Strang is the writer, and in it he denounces my 
 brother as a spy, and as an agent of the Jacobite party. We always 
 suspected that he had done this; but it is only now that we Jawio 
 that, while he pretended to be our best friend, he was, in truth, our 
 bitterest enemy. 
 
 Gen. Kerr. Such services are necessary, sometimes. 
 
 Agnes. Ay, but it was rendered not because he was faithful to 
 your cause, but because his vicious nature sought to destroy us, in 
 revenge for my sister's refusal of his hand. He followed us with 
 false protestations of friendship, and deceived my poor father with 
 his hy])Ocritical laments for the man whom he himself had delivered 
 to the executioner. He cherished his hate, and resolved to ruin my 
 sister in spite of herself, and, when he found her the wife of Mal- 
 colm, he endeavored to entrap him in the same snare which had 
 killed my brother. We long suspected him, and now, thanks to 
 good Dr. Fairlie, who, after months of search, discovered this letter 
 6 
 
66 LOYE AXD JEALOUSY. [ACT V. 
 
 at the Secret Service Bureau, we are convinced. [To Spence.) 
 Lawrence, can you forgive me ? 
 
 Spence. {Embracing her.) Yes, Aggie, with all my heart. 
 
 Gen. Kerr. All this is possibly true enough, but unfortunately it 
 does not benefit Sir Malcolm. 
 
 Agnes. It shows that he had an enemy — a base, skulking, treach- 
 erous enemy, who influenced the verdict which was obtained against 
 him. 
 
 Gen. Kerr. Still, that does not prove him innocent. 
 
 Agnes. Oh, sir, he is innocent! I know it ! I affirm it! I swear 
 it ! He has been silent. He has endured the unmerited stigma of 
 treason to shield his wife, and she has been silent for our father's 
 sake. But silence can no longer save him, and, though it wring my 
 heart with shame, I will declare the truth. It is Sirathroy^ my 
 father^ who is guilty, arid not Malcolm. He came to Elvanlee, dis- 
 guised, and stole the dispatches. 
 
 Gen. Kerr. The proof of this. — "Where is the proof? 
 
 Mar. Great Heavens! the packet. He said, "upon it depends 
 Oliphant's safety, and mine, perhaps." {Handing it to Kerr.) I 
 do not know what the contents of this may be, but it was given to 
 nae by my father to preserve for him. In the event of his death, I 
 ■was to give it to Colonel Strang. (Strang quickly extends his hand 
 to take the packet. Kerr p)ushes him back, and takes it hhnself.) 
 I deliver it to you instead, hoping it may establish my husband's 
 innocence. 
 
 Gen. Kerr. {Cutting cord, and ojiening packet.) Letters? {Read- 
 ing one.) " To Lewis Murray, Earl of Strathroy. Important dis- 
 patches tvill be delivered to Sir Malcolm Oliphxmt, to-morrow, August 
 2'2d, detailing 2^lnn of carnjiaign against the Pretender. Aware that 
 your Lordship entertains no friendly feeling towards Oliphant, who 
 has induced your daughter to forsake you, I would persuade your 
 Lordship) to undertake the task of obtaining them yourself.'" Dated 
 August 21st, 1745, and signed Henry Strang. {To Ryan.) Let 
 no one leave the room. What is this? A receipt for money, for 
 services rendered Lewis Murray, Earl of Strathroy ? And this ? A 
 letter accepting the Chevalier's promise of a title, in return for 
 assistance to the Jacobite cause, which his position as Colonel would 
 enable him to obtain. Colonel Strang, the contents of these letters 
 eeal your fate 
 
 Col. Strang. They are forgeries, to save a traitor from his doom. 
 The}' cannot produce a single witness to prove their authenticity. 
 
 Strath. {Appearing on gallery, very feeble.) You are wrong, sir. 
 There is one witness here. 
 
 Col. Strang. Strathroy I He did not escape ! Fire upon him. 
 (Soldiers level guns.) 
 
 Gen. Kerr. {(Quickly.) Hold! {They lower guns.) /command 
 here. (Spence and Fairlie help Stkathroy douni.) 
 
 Col. Strang. Foiled at every turn — curse the woman ! She has 
 caused all my misery. To win her I jeopardized my fortune — and I 
 have lost. 
 
 Strath. {Sinking in a chair which Ryan places for him.) Will 
 you show me the letter that identifies the villain who betrayed my 
 
SCENE I.] LOYE AND JEALOUSY. 67 
 
 son? (Kerr gives them io him, and he reads them.) Do you think 
 my word will weigh in balance against that of yonder knave ? 
 
 Gen. Kerr. "Whatever you say shall receive consideration. 
 
 Strath, i am glad that so much favor can be extended me. My 
 hate for all who bend beneath the yoke of Hanover has kept me silent 
 hitherto. But now my own hour has come, and for my children's 
 sake I speak. {Kissing Madge.) Ay, Madge, the loyalty you have 
 given to those you love has at last conquered me — who have been 
 loyal only to my King. 
 
 Mar. My poor father I 
 
 Strath. The letters you received from my daughter were written 
 by that man Strang. Do you want proof ? "^Here it is. In the hope 
 of recovering those papers, he aided me to escape from the chamber 
 where you held me a prisoner. Do you want more proof? Then 
 search him, and you will find one thousand Louis d'ors, paid him 
 last night — one of the many payments made him for information as 
 to the movements of your army. Are you satisfied? 
 
 Gen. Kerr. Yes. Captain Spence, search that man. • (Spence and 
 trco Soldiers seize hirn. He resists, but they hold him, while Spence 
 draws a purse from his 2^ochet.) Yes. I am satisfied. 
 
 Strath. Then be satisfied of this, also. Sir Malcolm Oliphant 
 is guiltless of all complicity with me even in thought. We have 
 been at enmity because he refused to serve his lawful Master. He is 
 to blame only for striving to shield from ignominy the name of one 
 who has been too ungrateful and blind to his worth"! [Sinks in chair.) 
 
 Gen. Kerr. The evidence is conclusive. To you, Sir Malcolm 
 Oliphant, I, as the representative of his Grace of Cumberland, promise 
 the return to you of the title and estates of Elvanlee, 
 
 Mar. {Kneelifig.) Thank God I the dark night has past, and light 
 breaks through at last. 
 
 Sir Mai. Colonel Strang, your sword. (Strang reluctantly gives 
 it uj), and Ma-lcoi^u 2>resents it to Kerr.) 
 
 Strath. [Rising, and rushing upon Strang.) And I have traf- 
 ficked with you, with you, the assassin of my boy ! Oh, give me a 
 weapon that I may die avenging Prank ! [Lifts his arm as if about 
 to strike, but it falls, and he sinks back in his chair. But I am too 
 weak — too weak even for that. 
 
 Col. Strang. [Harshly.) General Kerr, this man is mad. As an 
 officer of the Duke of Cumberland's staflf, I demand the instant exe- 
 cution of the traitor Oliphant, and the removal of that poor wretch 
 to the presence of his Grace, that I may have the opportunity to 
 prove my honesty. 
 
 Dr Fair. [Leaning over Strathroy.) You are too late, sir, as 
 regards Strathroy. He is summoned to a higher tribunal than that 
 of his Grace of Cumberland. 
 
 Gen. Kerr. [To Kyan.) Conduct Colonel Strang to the room 
 lately occupied by Strathroy. 
 
 Col. Strang. I trust, General Kerr, you will live to see me justi- 
 fied. I die a victim to my too great tenderness to a woman, who has 
 given me to the scafifold that she might rescue one for whom she 
 cares more. Well ! life without her might have been so miserable, 
 that I am almost content to die. Go on, sir, I will follow 3'ou. 
 
 [Exeunt Strang, Eyan, and two Soldiers, l. 2 e.) 
 
68 LOVE ANJ JEALOUSY. [ACT V. 
 
 Dr. Fair. Lewis Murray, Earl of Strathro}', has fought his last 
 battle. He is dying. 
 
 Agnes. Father ! {Throivs herself doivn hy his side, Spexce kneel' 
 ing with her. Makgaret and Malcolm kneel on the other side, 
 ichile other characters group around. ) 
 
 Strath. Dying ! Ah ! now I understand the dream that was so 
 strange — the clansmen who will curse me for my treachery ! — the 
 hills that I shall never see again ! No coranach will lull me to rest — 
 no loyal hand Avill cast a stone upon my cairn — Yet I have tried to 
 serve truly, my King. Oliphant? (Malcolm leans over him.) You 
 are pardoned. You cannot be condemned. Give nie my pardon now. 
 
 Mai. Y''ou have it, from my soul. 
 
 Strath. Come nearer — and you too, Madge, come nearer. You, 
 Oliphant, may one day see the Master. Tell him, that if the father's 
 love made me falter once — only once — in my duty to him, it was not 
 till every hope was gone, and my senses were darkened by the 
 shadow of death! Tell the King that whether he was throneless, 
 friendless or .homeless, I was still his faithful servant. Tell him, 
 that dying, my last prayer — my last words — utter^ed in the midst of 
 his foes, were God Save the King. {Dies.) 
 
 TABLEAU.— Curtain. 
 
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