e cheers without come nearer, with shouts of_
"Sheridan! Sheridan!"] The horse is down; he is worn out.

GERTRUDE. No! He is up again! He is on my Jack! Now, for your life,
Jack, and for me! You've never failed me yet. [_The cheers without now
swell to full volume and are taken up by those on the stage. The horse
sweeps by with_ GENERAL SHERIDAN.] Jack! Jack!! Jack!!! [_Waving her
arms as he passes. She throws up her arms and falls backward, caught
by_ DUNN. _The stream of men is reversed and surges across stage
to road and on elevation, with shouts, throwing up hats, etc. The
field-piece is forced up the slope with a few bold, rough movements;
the artillerists are loading it, and the stream of returning fugitives
is still surging by in the road as the curtain falls._

CURTAIN.

ACT IV.

SCENE. _Residence of_ GENERAL BUCKTHORN, _in Washington. Interior.
Fireplace slanting upward. Small alcove. Opening to hall, with
staircase beyond, and also entrance from out left. Door up stage. A
wide opening, with portieres to apartment. Upright piano down stage.
Armchair and low stool before fireplace. Small table for tea, etc.
Ottoman. Other chairs, ottomans, etc., to taste._

TIME. _Afternoon._

DISCOVERED. MRS. HAVERILL, _in armchair, resting her face upon her
hand, and looking into the fire._ EDITH _is on a low stool at her
side, sewing a child's garment._

EDITH. It seems hardly possible that the war is over, and that General
Lee has really surrendered. [_Fife and drum, without._] There is
music in the streets nearly all the time, now, and everybody looks so
cheerful and bright. [_Distant fife and drums heard playing "Johnnie
Comes Marching Home."_ EDITH _springs up and runs up to window,
looking out._] More troops returning! The old tattered battle-flag
is waving in the wind, and people are running after them so merrily.
[_Music stops._] Every day, now, seems like a holiday. [_Coming
down._] The war is over. All the women ought to feel very happy,
whose--whose husbands are--coming back to them.

MRS. HAVERILL. Yes, Edith; those women whose--husbands are coming back
to them. [_Still looking into fire._

EDITH. Oh! [_Dropping upon the stool, her head upon the arm of the
chair._

MRS. HAVERILL. [_Resting her arm over her._] My poor little darling!
_Your_ husband will not come back.

EDITH. Frank's last message has never reached me.

MRS. HAVERILL. No; but you have one sweet thought always with you.
Madeli