 | Crazy Jane |  |
SCENE II.
—Walter's Cottage.Enter Amy and Village Maidens, R. U. E.
Amy.
(R.)
Oh, I'm so rejoiced! I've just heard that
the wars are over, and the yeomanry on their march
now we shall hear the news.
Enter Buckram, L., splashed with dirt.
Buc.
(L.)
Thanks to my invincible legs, here I am once
more, after all my hardships, safe and sound, at home.
Amy.
(R.)
Welcome from the wars, neighbour; what
news?
Buc.
Bad enough, my dear: there has been terrible
work. Never saw such cutting up and cabbaging in all
my life before. Scarcely a remnant left of half the brave
fellows who marched with me into the field of glory.
Amy.
Mercy on me! I hope no harm has happened
to my dear Edwin?
Buc.
Oh, no; not much, my dear: he has only been
run through the body with a pike nine feet long, just
here, under the short ribs—such a button-hole!
Amy.
[Nearly overcome.]
Heavens! what, dead?
Buc.
Can't say, indeed, my sweet little daffidown-dilly,
whether the wound proved mortal or not, for I left
head-quarters rather suddenly, having been sent off with
despatches—I look like a courier, don't I? But as to
your sweetheart, I don't think you stand the least chance
of ever beholding him again; for, from the desperate
nature of his wound, just under the short rib, I'd bet—
That Edwin, long ere this, is dead as mutton.
Amy.
Oh, dear! oh, dear! I shall cry my eyes out!
I'm sure I shall.
Buc.
Nay, don't do that, my sweet little bit of velveteen;
if one sweetheart is dead, you can easily get
another, you know. What say you to me? I'm a
devilish clever fellow—how do you like me?
Amy.
Not at all, sir, I thank you.
[Sobs.]
And, if my
dear Edwin is no more, I'm resolved to die a spinster.
[Crosses to L.
Buc.
(R.)
More fool you, I say; and, trust me, you'll
repent your rash refusal of my generous offer, for, let
me tell you, 'tis no small honour to get a handsome
young man like me for a husband, and one who has
been bravely fighting in the wars for his queen and
country, and now returns covered with dust and glory.
Hurrah! success to the brave! Now to deliver my despatches!
[Exit, R.
Edwin dead! Oh dear, oh dear! what will
become of me?
[Exit in tears, with Villagers.
Enter Robinette from Walter's Cottage.
Rob.
Heigho! I am quite melancholy! Henry, they
say, is dead—poor sister Jane gone nobody knows whither
—and father is so cross, I'm almost afraid to speak
to him.
[Looking up.]
What's that? Our little pigeon
coming home from the wars; but he's brought no letter.
[The bird falls at the child's feet.]
Poor thing!—He's all
over blood, too—
[She takes up the pigeon]
—but not quite
dead. I'll nurse him—perhaps he may recover.
[Looking
off, L.]
What man is that yonder in a long red
cloak? He looks very sly. I'll step aside, and watch
his motions.
[Retires behind a tree, R.
Enter Lord Raymond, L., in a long cloak, with a dark lantern and torch.
Lord R.
Now for the deed, which shall completely place
The maiden in my power. Should I expel them
For a mere debt, the world would cry out shame
Upon my conduct; but, if they be burn'd out,
As 'twere by accident, she must submit
To my conditions, or be doom'd to wander
A beggar through the world. Now to my task.
'Tis lucky no one's near.
[Lights the torch by the lantern, and fires the cottage.
Walter.
[Within.]
Help! help!—Fire!
Lord R.
The neighbours are alarmed—I must away.
[Exit, L., dropping his cloak.
Enter Walter in despair, from the burning cottage.
Wal.
(L.)
Robinette, my child, where art thou?
Rob.
(R.) [Running from her hiding-place.]
I am here, father.
[Walter embraces the child, kneeling—the neighbours run to his assistance from R. U. E.—they form an interesting picture, and the scene closes.
| Crazy Jane | |