SCENE 1. _Autumn in Greenot woods near Glaia's cottage. Table,

seats, mugs and ale. Enter Eldra with a plate of cakes._

_Eld._ [_Putting plate on table_] It's the very day and hour he'll be coming, and he's not the man to count leaves by the roadside. He likes my cookin', as I've had proof, and he looks so cunnin' at me lately I could swear he was fallin' in love all over again. And I'm picking up my looks, I must say. Ay, there's nothin' like a soft tongue for keepin' a woman young. I feel 'most like a lassie, though he did say some words at first that made my heart sore, not knowing me after ten years away. And he's that handsome yet,--since he's shaved off the beard that got so between us I didn't know my own good man that married me in Dummerlie kirk on as sweet a Sunday morn as you ever see, and the priest in a new frock from Wappington, as the housekeeper told me herself--La, I forgot my lady!

[_Runs out. Stephen steps from behind a shrub_]

_Ste._ So, mistress, you've known me all the time, have you? And me playin' the fool courtin' my own wife that was ready to jump into my arms at the drop o' a hat! But I'll play you a game, my lady!

[_Re-enter Eldra_]

_Eld._ O, Mr. Stephen!

_Ste._ Ho, Madam Prune-face! A sweet mornin', now ain't it, but a bit briskish as suits the season.

_Eld._ Prune-face! By my lady's glass, I've not a wrinkle yet as big as the hair on a bat's wing! Plague take the eyes o' him that says it as shouldn't!

_Ste._ Well, well, I meant no harm, but mickle it takes to pinch a bruise. I brought a message to your lady from Sir Roland----

_Eld._ Sir Roland? He's a lord now----

_Ste._ Ay, 'tween the king and Hubert they've made him a lord.

_Eld._ _Hubert!_ You mean his grace, the earl of Kent?

_Ste._ He's still my friend, Meggy. The earldom is nothing between Hubert and old friends. And I'm a-climbing too. I've had an advancement, which I don't mind telling you about, but I'll have a bit o' your brew first and a dozen or so o' them cakes, seein' you took the trouble. I could never disappoint a woman as had put herself out for me. [_Sits at table_]

_Eld._ [_Pouring ale_] It has been a long stretch since you were this way, sir.

_Ste._ Eh? Has it? Well, I don't wonder you think so in this sort o' a place. Not much goin' or comin' round here! But time don't hang wi' Stephen. There's ridin' and fightin' an' the lassies to comfort----

_Eld._ I thought you were honest. You've bragged enough!

_Ste._ As honest as a soldier, my dear,--and that ought to content any woman. [_Eldra sits at table_] Yes, sit if you like. I'm not overproud, though your place is behind a man o' my rank when he's at table. I know I've eaten wi' you and drunk wi' you, but I've had an advancement, Meggy, I've had an advancement. [_Takes sip of ale and puts it down_] Costmary! Well, let 'em as likes it drink it.

_Eld._ 'Tis nice and balsamy. I thought you'd like it, and saved it o' purpose.

_Ste._ Dose me wi' tansy and be done!

[_Eldra turns her head to wipe away a tear and Stephen gulps the ale_]

_Ste._ [_Bites a cake and puts it down_] Poh!

_Eld._ Don't you like it?

_Ste._ If I don't mind a lie for manners' sake, I do, but if I've more respect for truth than manners, I don't. Ain't your hand a little out?

_Eld._ I thought they were extra nice, sir. I'm sure they rose like feathers.

_Ste._ And may blow away for me! But come, don't hang your head, Meggy. You're too old for that.

_Eld._ My name is Eldra, sir.

_Ste._ I know, I know, but I told you that was the name o' my dear lass that's dead and gone----

_Eld._ Dead and gone?

_Ste._ That's what I said. If she ain't dead, she's where I can't get her, which is all the same to a soldier, so I've about made up my mind to give over lookin' for her. Lord, don't cry, little chicken! You are a soft one. Cryin' to think I've lost such a jewel o' a lass, but I'll tell you something to make you think better of it. There is somebody up in old Scotland that I think I'll fetch down for the comfort o' Stephen--as bonny a woman as a man need want, wi' enough siller laid up from her old daddy to make a soldier a gentleman. Lizzie o' Logan----

_Eld._ Oh-h!

_Ste._ The qualms again? Now devil take a woman as gets queasy just when a man wants to be friendly and talk things over.

_Eld._ [_Aside_] Liz o' Logan! My cousin as was always jealous and wanted my Stephen!

_Ste._ Hey, Meggy! [_She runs out, left_] Ha, ha, ha! Poor little woman! I'm a villain. I'm twenty villains. [_Eldra steals back unseen and hears him_] To treat my bonny sweet wife so! The cunningest darling that ever said yes to a soldier! I'll make it all right when she comes back, and won't there be a smackin' o' lips! [_Eldra makes signs of joy and revenge and disappears_] Where has she gone? Run off to cry her sweet eyes out, I'll warrant! I'll go find her.

[_Exit, left. Eldra and Orson come on, rear_]

_Ors._ O, is it true? My faithful heart is blest at last? My rival indeed vanquished? And I--I am your adored one?

_Eld._ Yes, but don't be a bigger fool than you can help.

_Ors._ Fool, ma'am?

_Eld._ There, there, I mean don't forget that you are a man of dignity----

_Ors._ Ah! Don't trouble yourself.

_Eld._ And cosset me before folks, like a bumpkin with his first lass.

_Ors._ I'll be patient--before company. Though I should just like to show that man of blood what my rights are now. But you mean it, Eldra? This is not another jade's trick?

_Eld._ 'Tis true--always barring that my man don't come back to claim me.

_Ors._ The fishes keep him! [_Re-enter Stephen_] Ah!

_Eld._ [_Whispers sweetly to Orson, then discovers Stephen_] O, here he is! Now, Orson, I know you'll be friends wi' Mr. Stephen. Just to please me now. You see, sir, Orson's been courtin' me many a year, and I had just about give in like a weak woman, when you came and got me all upset somehow, lookin' so much like my man who was drowned at sea, an' his own name too. I did lose my head so at times I could 'a' sworn you were my very man, but what you said about Liz o' Logan brought me to my right mind again, and Orson is willing to make up, and I'm sure we can all be friends, only me and Orson won't be presumin', an' shame take me to think I ever looked so high as a king's man wi' an advancement--though Orson is a man of dignity now--and--sit down, Orson! [_Sits at table and pours ale for herself and Orson_] We take a snip together about this time every mornin'. Orson's got no quarrel with the ale cost, and he does love my raisin' o' bread and cake.

_Ors._ And who doesn't let him starve in a ditch! We don't ask you to sit, Mister Stephen. We know our place, and hope you know yours.

_Eld._ Ay, a king's man must keep his head high.

_Ors._ High, my love?

_Eld._ I mean with an advancement.

_Ors._ 'Tis well. You know me, Eldra.

_Eld._ I hope I do, Orson.

_Ors._ And you must own, my dear, that you came to your right mind in very good time.

_Eld._ I'm reasonably thankful, Orson. I know what it is to be a soldier's wife.

_Ors._ They lie not between linen, I warrant you.

_Eld._ Linen? An they get muslin without begging it, they may thank fortune!

_Ors._ With never a silk smock for the fair.

_Eld._ Silk smock? An a new one comes before the old one drops off they may say their prayers for it!

_Ors._ But we'll be snug enough, my dear.

_Eld._ That we will!

_Ors._ And winter coming on. Ah!

_Eld._ True enough.

_Ors._ A good fire.

_Eld._ Yes, my love.

_Ors._ A little mulled sack, if the night be wet.

_Eld._ Indeed, my dear! And a hot posset for your cold, curdled with sweet wine.

_Ors._ Humph! A little tart, I beg you, to give it spice.

_Eld._ Well, our tastes won't quarrel. I know a wife's place.

_Ors._ By my life, you do! O, 'tis a merry day! Would I were not a man of dignity now! [_Pats her_]

_Eld._ Orson!

_Ors._ I mean--O, come! 'Tis a merry day! Give us a song, mister soldier!

_Ste._ I'll give you the devil!

_Ors._ How, sir? You seem disturbed. Perhaps your reflections are not so happy as mine. It may be your mistress has not such an adoring and adorable eye--can not feast you with her cheeks--[_kisses Eldra_]--regale you with her lips--[_kisses her_]

_Ste._ Scoundrel! Kiss my wife? [_Takes him by collar and throws him aside_]

_Eld._ My Stephen!

_Ste._ My Eldra!

_Eld._ [_Running to his arms_] I knew it was you!

_Ste._ I knew it was you!

_Eld._ Why didn't you tell me?

_Ste._ Why didn't you tell me?

_Ors._ As a man of dignity now, I should like to ask why you didn't tell _me_!

_Ste._ [_Dancing up and down stage with Eldra_] Ay, Orson, 'tis a merry day! Come, come! Here's a good ale for all. To you, Orson! [_Drinks_] And let the song go 'round!

[_All sing_]

Ho, Autumn time, O, Autumn time, When every wind is jolly, And pip and pear drop in their prime For tooth of fun and folly!

When Hobnail's store is ripe for raids, And grapes go to the pressing, And apple checks are like a maid's When Jack would be a-kissing!

Ho, hips and haws for vagabonds, With russets for who'll dare, And hazels by the meadow ponds, Brown-sweet for barefoot's fare!

The pettychaps beflit the larch, The rocks from barn-top scold, And summer rogues are on the march For quarters 'gainst the cold.

Ho, Autumn time, O, Autumn time! When every wind is jolly, And pip and pear drop in their prime For tooth of fun and folly!

_Eld._ Hist! My lady is coming with her knight.

_Ste._ What knight? Nobody should be coming here but the earl of Kent and my lord of Wynne. Come, lass, what knight?

_Eld._ O, now it's out, you must be as mum as a dumb man's grave. My lady has a lover, and a sweet young knight he is, too, who rides out every week just for a peep at her. List! You can hear them now, just over the hedge.

_Ste._ And the master doesn't know! By Heaven, the man's a villain, and I'm a traitor to my lord of Kent if I don't wring his neck!

_Eld._ Stephen! Stephen!

_Ors._ Hold, sir!

_Ste._ Off with you! I'd drag him out an 'twere the king himself! [_Leaps through the hedge and pulls the king through_] God's mercy! I am dead! It is the king!

[_All kneel to the king. Glaia comes through the hedge_]

_Gla._ The king?

_Hen._ 'Tis true. I am that wretched man, Your sovereign. [_Kneels_]

_Ste._ [_Aside_] Kneel to a woman! Nay, Not Stephen! [_Rises_]

_Hen._ Speak, sweet, and say that I'm forgiven!

_Gla._ My Henry I'll forgive, but not the king.

_Hen._ No pity for the king? O, take him, too, Fair Glaia, crown and all! [_Rises_] Look not away, Nor down, nor up, nor anywhere but here. Say thou'lt forgive, we'll instantly to court, For there's a spirit sits within this hour, Like silent wisdom in a lovely face, That gives me confidence. We'll to the court! I know thou art a maid of noble blood. For thou'rt indexed with rank's unerring sign, And dearly limned by Nature for a queen. Weep not, my sweet, thy lover is a king, And by my soul, and these dear wildered eyes, And by the life in these blue wandering veins, [_kissing her hand_] These azure rivers in a lily field-- I'll lift thee high as is the English throne!

[_Exeunt the king and Glaia_]

_Ste._ Now there'll be a broil at court to please all the witches on the island.

_Eld._ And 'twas you dropped the devil's meat into the pot. O, woe, woe, woe! That I should live to see my lady wed the king!

_Ste._ Well, worse could 'a' happened. The king might have had me hung, and it's bad luck to be a widow twice to the same man. I'm for the court to keep both eyes open for what sport befalls.

_Eld._ Sport? O, the poor lord of Wynne! What will he do now? May be 'tis sent on him for worshippin' my lady like the Holy Virgin. Sport? O, that you should be my husband and a villain! Up with you, Orson! There's work for such poor servants as we be.

_Ors._ Servant, ma'am? Dost not think that this high connection of my lady's will make me lord chamberlain to----

_Eld._ Ay, thou'lt get thy right place, I hope, though it be lord footman to a donkey! Come along with you both!

[_Exeunt. Re-enter the king and Glaia_]

_Gla._ I can't believe it yet, your majesty.

_Hen._ Nay, Henry, love. The name you gave me first. By that alone I'll live upon your lips.

_Gla._ I should be gay,--alack, I am half sad. A sort of music here is gone. Mayhap I loved my brother better than the king.

_Hen._ Thy brother? Call me that no more. My bride! The sleeping angel I would kiss awake, For waking thou art human and can love. Ah, Glaia, none doth know how I have dreamed, For kings must give up all just to be kings-- How oft at night I've left the palace world To find me lodging in the sweeter air Where spirits hold their gentle pageantries, And meet the winds that blow from destiny Pregnant with fortune for my famished soul,-- While they who stood about the royal bed, Whose stealthful eyes held me in silken jail, Knew not my body lay untenanted And they but guarded clay. And everywhere 'Twas thee I sought, my Glaia. When you came, I looked, and knew that I need dream no more.

_Gla._ And thou art no more sad? I make thee happy?

_Hen._ When I am with thee 'tis continual Spring, For in my heart is such sweet jugglery Each winter-ragged month doth put on May.

_Gla._ It makes me fear to be so much to thee. O, Henry, leave me,--leave me here a child That never shall be woman,--ne'er shall seek The bitter knowledge of the human world.

[_A fawn comes to her from the wood. She fondles it_]

See, brother! I would ope no book less pure Than these large eyes. Ah, me, was ever soul So full of earth as mine? I can love nothing But woods and streams, and these unspeaking things That reasonless may build no dream of God. My Henry, why this fear that if I go From this dear world I'll come to it no more?

_Hen._ Cast off the doubt--and here I trample it. We shall come often to this home of peace. But, Glaia, let us go. The hours run fast, And eve must find me at the court.

_Gla._ The court? There does my rival in my lover speak. There speaks my enemy, for in the court I shall find that will make these fears all plain.

_Hen._ Fear nothing now! I see thou knowest how To please me best, making me woo thee o'er And o'er again, for naught could be more sweet!

[_Exeunt. Curtain_]