[Re-enter Mrs. S. with Cupid and Marthy from the house.

Mrs. S. The fight could not have been more than a mile away. 
We’ll have some news before so very long.

Bev.  Oh, let me, mother; I’ll ride down and see.

Mrs. S. No, Bevie, no.  You must stay here.  We have you yet.

Bev (quietly).  I’ll stay, mother.

Char. (who has been straining her eyes through the dusk, turns quickly).  I hear a horse; it’s running.  Ah, God! let this be news.

[Horse’s hoofs are heard rapidly approaching.

Fair.  It cannot be so soon.

Bev.  It is; it is.  He’s coming up the avenue.  It’s Winthrop.  He’s riding for his life!

Fair.  Steve!  For his life—­God!

[The horse’s hoofs stop; enter Winthrop hurriedly.

Winth. (removing hat).  I grieve to tell you, madam, that your son
George is badly wounded.  You must go to him at once.

Char.  George!  Come, mother; come while there is time!

Winth.  I met a man sent back to say it was only a skirmish.  All save a few escaped.  But your son was the first man in the attack.

Mrs. S. (to Cupid).  Get me the carriage.

[Exit hurriedly Cupid and Marthy.

Bev.  In a second, mother.

[He runs off after Cupid.

Char. (comes slowly before Winthrop, gazing up into his face, her voice almost a whisper).  Dead?

Winth.  Badly wounded.

Char.  Ah!  Quick, mother, your wrap!

Fair.  I’ll get it.  Wait.

[She runs into the house.

Winth.  One moment—­your passport.  Here (he writes on a card, gives to Mrs. S.).  Show this if you are halted.

Mrs. S. I thank you, sir, for your kindness to me.

[She offers hand.

Winth. (takes hand).  My pleasure, madam.

Char.  And my thanks, sir.

[He bows to her.

Fair (enters with the wrap, placing it about her shoulders).  Oh, mother, bring him back to me!

[Enter Cupid.

Cupid.  Missus, de cerrige is ready.

Mrs. S. Try and get me there, Cupid.

Cupid.  I gwine get you dar ef de Lord spars me.

[Exit Mrs. S., Charlotte and Cupid.  Winthrop stands looking in
a longing way at Fair, who follows her mother with her eyes
’till she is off, then she slowly turns.

Fair.  We owe you more than we can ever pay.  Won’t you come in and rest?

Winth. (comes closer as though to take her hand).  You, too, Fair?

Fair.  What else?  You are our—­enemy!

Winth. (his voice choked with passion).  No.  God knows I wear this uniform because I think it right.  But if it make me an enemy to you, I would to God I’d never seen it.  You loved me once, Fair.  Two years is not so very long—­yet have you changed?  Ah! no, no.  You cannot look at me like that and say you hate me!

        [With a sudden, wild impulse, Fair has drawn very near to him.