HAVERILL. Gertrude! I wish to speak to you, as your father's old friend; and I was once your guardian. Your father was my senior officer in the Mexican War. Without his care I should have been left dead in a foreign land. He, himself, afterwards fell fighting for the old flag.
GERTRUDE. The old flag. [Aside.] My father died for it, and he—[Looking left.]—is suffering for it—the old flag!
HAVERILL. I can now return the kindness your father did to me, by protecting his daughter from something that may be worse than death.
GERTRUDE. What do you mean?
HAVERILL. Last night I saw you kneeling at the side of Kerchival West; you spoke to him with all the tender passion of a Southern woman. You said you loved him. But you spoke into ears that could not hear you. Has he ever heard those words from your lips? Have you ever confessed your love to him before?
GERTRUDE. Never. Why do you ask?
HAVERILL. Do not repeat those words. Keep your heart to yourself, my girl.
GERTRUDE. General! Why do you say this to me? And at such a moment—when his life—
HAVERILL. His life! [Turning sharply.] It belongs to me!
GERTRUDE. Oh!