D’A. Convicted of treason by false testimony, and sentenced to die at sunrise.
Zina. Oh this is so cowardly and unjust to you, who have been so brave and kind. Oh what shall I do?
D’A. You can do nothing, Zina.
Zina. I will go to the General and say it is not true.
D’A. You are but a poor slave girl. It would avail nothing. Zina, through economy and speculations, I have become possessed of five thousand dollars in gold. It is all buried beneath the roots of the old cotton-wood that stands by the grave of our Nelly. No one but my mother knows this. If, by the fortunes of war, I should fall, it would keep my mother from want. If, when peace and independence come, and I should live, to buy your freedom, when I had determined to offer you my heart, hand, and the honor of a soldier.
Zina. Oh you would not throw yourself away on a poor slave! You do not know what you say!
D’A. This has been the nurtured ambition of my heart, since, with all your native goodness, I saw your generous devotion to my helpless old mother.
Zina. How can you love a poor, degraded slave girl, who has nothing to offer but these miserable rags, and the memory that she came of the hated race, so despised by all the world. (Falls on her knees, covers face.)
D’A. As God loves goodness in the human heart—as manhood admires the noble, unselfish woman, though her covering be undeserving rags—as the heart plays captive to the most generous impulses of nature—as the honor of a soldier reaches out to grasp its ideal, so do I offer my tribute of love. Zina, all these dreams of the future die with me when the sun rises over the eastern hills. Go out from here. Avoid the guard. Find the money, and fly with my mother, where you can be free. Save my mother from want, and I am content. Waste no time, or you too may be lost.
Zina. Oh I cannot be so cowardly as to leave you now! (Rising.)