Lady A. Ay, but he has been gone this hour. Stay, it is Andre's flute you hear below there, and some one has joined him just now—yes, it is he.
Off. Under that tree;—thank you, my lady.
Lady A. Stay, Colonel Hill,—I beg your pardon, but you spoke so hastily.—This young Maitland is a friend of ours, I trust there is nothing that concerns him painfully.—
Off. Oh nothing, nothing, except that he is ordered off to Fort Ann to-night. There are none of us that know these wild routes as well as he.
[Exit.
Lady A. Good Heavens! What noise is that?
Maid. Lord 'a mercy! The battle is coming?
Lady A. Hush! (To a sentinel who goes whistling by.) Sirrah, what noise is that?
Sentinel. It's these Indians, my lady; they have found the son of some chief of theirs murdered in these woods, and they are bringing him to the camp now. That's the mourning they make.
Lady A. The Lord protect us!