Fitzgibbon. Nay, be not anxious; we are quite prepared.
Sheathed though our claws may be, they're always sharp.
Pray drink again, nor fear the potent touch
That snatches back the life when the spent heart,
Oppressed by cruel tasks, as yours, can scarcely beat.
[MRS. SECORD drinks the coffee, and again rises, but can scarcely stand.
49th man (saluting). Sir, me an' Bill has here a hammock ready,
An' volunteers to see the lady safe.
Among her friends.
Mrs. Secord. But I can walk.
Fitzgibbon. Madam, you cannot. Let these carry you;
[!-- Begin Page 62 --] An honour I do grudge them. I shall move
With better heart knowing you cared for.
Mrs. Secord. I'll go at once—
Fitzgibbon. Men, bring your hammock hither.
(The hammock is brought, and MRS. SECORD is assisted into it by LIEUT. FITZGIBBON, who wraps a blanket round her. The men fall into line, and salute as she passes. At the door she offers her hand to FITZGIBBON.)
Mrs. Secord. Farewell, sir. My best thanks for all your goodness,
Your hospitality, and this, your escort;
You do me too much honour.
Fitzgibbon. Should we not
Show our respect for one has done so much
For us? We are your debtors, madam.