She'll come for him, I reckon.
[Hopkins begins to pace up and down at the back, looking
anxiously off across the river.
Winth. She--will come--here.
Soldier. Young Stuart--never fought before--plucky young 'un,
too. Would ride in front with flag--no keepin' him back. Might have
saved him--bad.
Hop. (stops, gazing off across stream through the falling snow).
She's coming.
Winth. The boat!
Hop. Yes.
Winth. Alone?
Hop. No, an old negro is with her; she has a white flag up. They
are very near.
[The snow begins to fall more heavily. At the back an old boat
comes slowly into view through the trees. Fair, dressed
in her little black dress, stands in the bow, with a
handkerchief tied on a long wooden staff. She is without
her hat, her hair blowing about her face, her eyes
straining through the thickly falling snow; she is deadly
pale; she stands erect and very still. Old Cupid, also
without his hat, is at the other end of the boat rowing.
They move across stage from (Right) to (Left), disappearing
(Left).
Hop. They are at the landing.
[All the men stand looking after the boat until it has
disappeared.
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