With calm demeanour, if a bursting heart.

_Mrs. Secord_. Then will you taste a woman's common lot
In times of strait, while I essay man's role
Of fierce activity. We will compare
When I return. Now, fare-thee-well, my husband.

(_Fearful of being observed, they part without an embrace_. Mrs.
Secord _walks down the garden slowly, and gathers a few clove pinks; a
the gate she stops as though the latch were troublesome, raises the
flowers to her lips, and makes a slight salute to her husband, who yet
stands within the porch watching her. She then rapidly pursues her way,
but soon encounters an American sentry, whom she essays to pass with a
nod and a smile: the man prevents her by bringing his musket to the
charge, and challenging_.)

_Mrs. Secord_. Why do you stop me?

_Sentry_. Where is your pass?
You know that none may take the road without one.

_Mrs. Secord_. But surely I may go to milk my cow,
Yonder she is.

[_A cow is seen in the clearing_.

She's wandered in the night.
I'll drive her back again, poor thing.
She likes new pasture best, as well she may.