Mr. Secord (putting his arm 'round her tenderly). How can I let thee go? Thy tender feet
Would bleed ere half the way was done. Thy strength
Would fail 'twixt the rough road and summer heat,
And in some, gloomy depth, faint and alone,
Thou would'st lie down to die. Or, chased and hurt
By wolf or catamount, thy task undone,
[!-- Begin Page 21 --] Thy precious life would then be thrown away.
I cannot let thee go.
Mrs. Secord. Not thrown away! Nay, say not that, dear James.
No life is thrown away that's spent in doing duty.
But why raise up these phantoms of dismay?
I did not so when, at our country's call,
You leapt to answer. Said I one word
To keep you back? and yet my risk was greater
Then than now—a woman left with children
On a frontier farm, where yelling savages,
Urged on, or led, by renegades, might burn,
And kill, and outrage with impunity
Under the name of war. Yet I blenched not,
But helped you clean your musket, clasped your belt,
And sent you forth, with many a cheery word.
Did I not so?
Mr. Secord. Thou didst indeed, dear wife, thou didst.
But yet,—
I cannot let thee go, my darling.
Did I not promise in our marriage vow,
And to thy mother, to guard thee as myself.
Mrs. Secord. And so you will if now you let me go.
For you would go yourself, without a word
Of parley, were you able; leaving me
The while in His good hands; not doubting once
But I was willing. Leave me there now, James,
And let me go; it is our country calls.
Mr. Secord. Ah, dearest wife, thou dost not realize
All my deep promise, "guard thee as myself?"
I meant to guard thee doubly, trebly more.
Mrs. Secord. There you were wrong. The law says "as thyself
Thou shalt regard thy neighbour."
Mr. Secord. My neighbour! Then is that all that thou art
To me, thy husband? Shame! thou lovest me not.
My neighbour!
Mrs. Secord. Why now, fond ingrate! What saith the Book?
"THE GOOD, with all thy soul and mind and strength;
Thy neighbour as thyself." Thou must not love
Thyself, nor me, as thou must love the Good.
Therefore, I am thy neighbour; loved as thyself:
And as thyself wouldst go to warn Fitzgibbon
If thou wert able, so I, being able,
Thou must let me go—thy other self.
Pray let me go!
Mr. Secord (after a pause). Thou shalt, dear wife, thou shalt. I'll say no more.
Thy courage meets the occasion. Hope shall be
My standard-bearer, and put to shame
The cohorts black anxiety calls up.
But how shall I explain to prying folks
Thine absence?