Mrs. Secord. I do not fear it.
Children can see the right at one quick glance,
For, unobscured by self or prejudice,
They mark the aim, and not the sacrifice
Entailed.
Widow. Did James consent to have you go?
Mrs. Secord. Not till he found there was no other way;
He fretted much to think he could not go.
Widow. I'm sure he did. A man may undergo
A forced fatigue, and take no lasting hurt,
But not a woman. And you so frail—
It is your life you risk. I sent my lads,
Expecting them to run the chance of war,
And these you go to warn do but the same.
Mrs. Secord. You see it wrong; chances of war to those
Would murder be to these, and on my soul,
Because I knew their risk, and warned them not.
You'll think I'm right when tramp of armed men,
And rumble of the guns disturb you in your sleep.
Then, in the calmer judgment night-time brings,
You'd be the first to blame the selfish care
That left a little band of thirty men
A prey to near six hundred.
Widow. Just the old story! Six hundred—it's disgraceful!
Why, Were they tailors—nine to make a man—
'Tis more than two to one. Oh, you must go.
Mrs. Secord. I knew you'd say so when you came to think:
It was your love to me that masked your judgment.
I'll go and see poor Charles, but shall not say
My real errand, 'twould excite him so.
[Exit MRS. SECORD.
Widow. Poor Laura! Would to God I knew some way
To lighten her of such a task as this.