another, thee little ne'er-do-weel; thee can tell us what we wants to know about Goodrest in the hills'- And I was telling of 'em just what tales comed into my head, for fear of unpleasantness, mistress, when the corporal, a great rough chap, seizes hold of me, and says, says he, " "Tis all a pack o' lies, this here. Search him,' he says, 'and see if he carries messages or tokens.' And then I fought and bit, for I know'd they'd find your bright things in my smock; and I bit his hand nigh upon through, that I did," said Bill, with grim satisfaction, and an oath at which poor Beatrice shuddered. "Oh, hush!" she said. "There is no help in swearing, boy." "He swore," Bill replied. "But when he got the tablets, he were fine and pleased. And he said, 'This is a stag of ten, my boys; and should he snuff the breeze too soon we have means to keep him where he is till morning. Hold that little viper fast,' says he, and for your lives don't let him give us the slip.' - So one of the troopers took me behind him on his horse, with a rope round my body, drawn cruel tight at first. And I panted and groaned, and made as though he were killing of me; and after a bit he slacked the rope a little, so as I could put my head down and gnaw it through in the dark. And at the dip of a valley, where the shadow was deep under the trees, I slipped off quiet-like into the long grass. He knew the rope was loose in a minute, and he snapped his pistol; but the covert was good, and I crope into the heart of a holler tree covered o'er wi' ivy. I bided there, till they was tired o' hunting round. But oh, mistress, the poor gentleman at Goodrest is undone! They talked together while the trooper was making me fast upon his horse; and I heard a word now and again, for I listened with all my might. There were but four of 'em; and they said they weren't strong enough to surprise Goodrest, but must ride back to quarters for help. And as we went past Grantford Farm, the corporal called a halt; and one held his horse while he went in and spoke with the farmer. And, mistress, Hugh Stone of Grantford is known for a bitter Whig. . . . And presently Hugh of Grantford comes out, and his little brother with him; and the boy had that as you wrote upon that as they took from me in his hand. And the corporal says, looking over his shoulder quick and short, 'Does he understand?' says he. 'Oh, aye,' says Hugh of Grantford, 'he understands fine.' And I could see wee Jock did not like the job he were put upon; and I made a face at him from ahint the trooper's back, and he liked it less nor ever then." "What job, Bill?” Bill Lampeter looked in amazement at this beautiful, terrified lady, who did not understand. "Don't 'ee see?" he said. "Jock o' Grantford were to take your writing to Goodrest, and play upon the gentleman there, to keep him biding till the red-coats come. What were it as you wrote down that day, mistress?" As in a flash of painful memory Beatrice saw the dainty tablets once more, with words traced upon them in a hand rendered somewhat unsteady by the slow pace of the sorrel horse a hand unmistakable, however, to the eyes of Charlie Cope. I pray you, do not stir far from home. There is risk abroad. B. C. She understood then; and she turned quickly to Patty Joyce, who had come back bringing bread and milk ere Bill's tale was half done. Bill, even in the eagerness of his disclosure, had clutched the bread and cheese; and now he drained the mug of milk, while the good-natured maid stood open-mouthed, her eyes fixed upon Mistress Beatrice. "Patty," the young lady whispered, "I think you are faithful and true. . . . I must trust you with a perilous secret. This gentleman whom they seek at Goodrest is my only brother; he has papers of importance in his keeping, and a warrant is out for his arrest. They will lure him to his destruction by means of me, his sister; he knows my handwriting and will trust to my warning. He will lie close at Goodrest, as a hare upon her form; and they will take him oh! they will take him prisoner!-ere morning dawns. I must to Goodrest now, in the dark night. - Boy! is there time? is there time?" Bill Lampeter nodded, munching his bread. "They'll not be back afore the dawning, them troopers," he said. "They've limed the twig, ye see; the bird is made fast. If Mr. Cope do hear the country's up, he'll bide where he be there at Goodrest, reckoning 'tis safest to keep still. Between now and the first streak as shows over the Black Scaur, mistress, you can do as you will." "Eh, Mistress Beatrice, you can't never go," said Patty, trembling. "You couldn't dare to do it. And this here boy," she whispered, standing close to Mistress Beatrice, "is a very proverb for wicked story-telling. 'Tis a naughty little varlet; who knows that he has not been set on to bring this tale?" "Tis true enough, though I be a story-teller," said Bill, whose ears were sharp. "Yon gentleman at Goodrest has need of thee the night, mistress. And now let me lie down on the straw in the big barn, for my bones do ache, and I be dizzy wi' running." He caught at the doorpost as he spoke; and Patty Joyce's suspicion vanished in pity for the worn-out creature. She kindled a flame to light the lanthorn which hung in the houseplace; and herself crossed the wide courtyard to make Bill a comfortable restingplace in the soft hay and clean straw which filled the great barn.1 This is the same scene in the play: (Louder rapping. Trembling with rage and disappointment, Sandiland disappears down the path. Beatrice stands a moment, looking as if waking from a nightmare.) Patty. (Outside, rapping more.) Miss Beatrice, Miss Beatrice! Quick! Beatrice. (Crossing dazedly to door. By it, dully.) Who? Beat. (Recovering.) Bill! (Quickly she unbolts the door. Patty enters, half supporting Bill. She looks about as if surprised at not seeing any one beside Beatrice. Bill's clothes are torn and he is covered with dirt. There is blood on his hands where cords have torn the flesh. He looks white and wretched and breathes hard as if from recent running. He should play the whole scene with nervous excitement that suggests a collapse at the end of it.) Bill. (Apologetically, as he stumbles toward Beatrice.) I've had a bit of a scrap. (Aside to Beatrice.) Get rid o' 'er. Beat. You can trust her. What has happened? Bill. Scoutin' party got me. Corporal raddled my bones terrible when I fought and bit, fearin' they'd find your message hid in my smock. They near tore it off, damn 'em. Beat. You have the tablets? Bill. No. Beat. They have them? (With relief.) Then they haven't reached James! 1 Mistress Beatrice Cope. M. E. Le Clerc. D. Appleton & Co., New York. Bill. The gentleman? Oh, ay. When we come to Grantford Farm-I were trussed up be'ind a trooper Corporal called out little Jock o' Grantford his fayther's a bitter Whig- and bade 'im take your message to Goodrest, to keep the gentleman waitin' till the red coats be come. Beat. (To Patty.) Where's Grizel? Beat. Saddle her at once. I must to Goodrest. (Patty hesitates.) Bill. (Menacingly as he reaches for a candle-stick.) She said To once. (Unwillingly but quickly, Patty goes out centre.) Bill. (Pointing to the door where the full moon shines in clearly.) Ay, but that ain't 'id yet. Beat. (As if struck by a sudden idea.) How did you get free? Bill. Gnawed the ropes; slipped off in the long grass. Trooper's pistol missed me. Stayed in a holler oak I knows till they was tired 'untin'. Beat. Knowing you are loose, they will start at once. Bill. If they ain't fools. But most folks be. Risk somethin' on that. (Beatrice is busy with her dress and cloak. He starts to help her but has to support himself by table.) Don't go through Whitecross Village. There the soldiers be. Take the footpath by Guiting; the bridge be shaky but 'twill hold. (Enter Patty, centre.) Patty. Grizel's ready'm. Beat. (Nodding her understanding to Bill — to Patty.) Close up here. Look after Bill. Be ready to let me in when the first cock crows. My stirrup! (Goes out swiftly, followed protestingly by Patty. Bill drags himself to right of door watching, and says after a minute.) She's up! Patty. (Rushing in as there is the sound of swift hoof beats.) She's gone! (She falls sobbing hysterically by the left side of door.) Bill. (As he holds himself up at right.) The damned brave lady! Curtain. First of all, the novelist permits himself an amount of detail which the dramatist must forego because of his more limited space. Interesting details which do not forward the purpose of the scene or act the wise dramatist denies himself note in Ibsen's revision of certain lines in A Doll's House (p. 350) the cutting, between the first and final versions, of what concerns Dr. Rank. It was in part unnecessary detail which made the dialogue of the play on John Brown (pp. 309-313) so ineffective. In what follows immediately, a skilful hand seems in column one to have cut details of column two which, though interesting in themselves, delay the essential movement of the scene and help to swell the whole play to undue proportions. Horatio. Mary that can I, at least the whisper goes So, Our late King, who as you know Thereto prickt on by a most emulous cause, dared to The combate, in which our valiant Hamlet, For so this side of our knowne world esteemed him, Did slay this Fortenbrasse, Who by a seale compact well ratified, by law And heraldrie, did forfeit with queror, Against the which a moity competent, Was gaged by our King: Horatio. That can I. At least the whisper goes so; our last King, Who[se image even but now Was as you knowe by Fortin- Dar'd to the combat; in which our valiant Hamlet, (For so this side of our knowne world esteemd him) Did slay this Fortinbrasse, who by a seald compact Well ratified by lawe and heraldy Did forfait (with his life) all these his lands Which he stood seaz'd of, to the conquerour. Against the which a moitie competent Was gaged by our King, [which had returne To the inheritance of Fortinbrasse, Had he bin vanquisher; as by the same comart, |