The Maiden (kneeling by the bedside).
O Willie! can I live
Without you? Love, my love, why are you dead
And I alive? O noble, golden head,
Whose every curl I know, how still you lie
On this poor pillow, and how dreamlessly
You sleep! But waken now; look on me, dear;
Open those close-shut eyes, for I am here—
Yes, here all this long way from home. Oh, speak—
Speak to me, Willie.—Ah, how cold his cheek—
How icy cold! O God! he’s dead, he’s dead!
Woman of the House.
Yes, he is dead, dead as King David. Truth
He was right handsome for a Yankee youth—
Rode his horse well.
The Lady (aside).
I love you, Meredith.
The Maiden.
What’s this upon the table near his hand? [Opens the package.
My picture—yes, my letters—all! Herewith
I know—I know he loved me!
The Lady (thinking).
Cover worn,
Creased in its folds, unopened, and forlorn—
Yes, I remember it. I would not look
Within;—unopened since that day.
He took
The poor thing forth with dying loyalty
To send to her.