(She signifies that she understands.) Remember, you must find our friend who was with us just now.  Do you understand? (She signifies yes.) See that you get him safely out of harm’s way.  Don’t for your life let him know of my danger; but if he finds it out, tell him that he cannot save me:  they would hang him; and they would not spare me.  And tell him that I am steadfast in my religion as he is in his, and that he may depend on me to the death. (He turns to go, and meets the eye of the sergeant, who looks a little suspicious.  He considers a moment, and then, turning roguishly to Judith with something of a smile breaking through his earnestness, says) And now, my dear, I am afraid the sergeant will not believe that you love me like a wife unless you give one kiss before I go.

He approaches her and holds out his arms.  She quits the table and almost falls into them.

Judith (the words choking her).  I ought to—­it’s murder—­

Richard.  No:  only a kiss (softly to her) for his sake.

Judith.  I can’t.  You must—­

Richard (folding her in his arms with an impulse of compassion for her distress).  My poor girl!

Judith, with a sudden effort, throws her arms round him; kisses him; and swoons away, dropping from his arms to the ground as if the kiss had killed her.

Richard (going quickly to the sergeant).  Now, Sergeant:  quick, before she comes to.  The handcuffs. (He puts out his hands.)

Sergeant (pocketing them).  Never mind, sir:  I’ll trust you.  You’re a game one.  You ought to a bin a soldier, sir.  Between them two, please. (The soldiers place themselves one before Richard and one behind him.  The sergeant opens the door.)

Richard (taking a last look round him).  Goodbye, wife:  goodbye, home.  Muffle the drums, and quick march!

The sergeant signs to the leading soldier to march.  They file out quickly.

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When Anderson returns from Mrs. Dudgeon’s he is astonished to find the room apparently empty and almost in darkness except for the glow from the fire; for one of the candles has burnt out, and the other is at its last flicker.

Anderson.  Why, what on earth—? (Calling) Judith, Judith! (He listens:  there is no answer.) Hm! (He goes to the cupboard; takes a candle from the drawer; lights it at the flicker of the expiring one on the table; and looks wonderingly at the untasted meal by its light.  Then he sticks it in the candlestick; takes off his hat; and scratches his head, much puzzled.  This action causes him to look at the floor for the first time; and there he sees Judith lying motionless with her eyes closed.  He runs to her and stoops beside her, lifting her head.) Judith.

Judith (waking; for her swoon has passed into the sleep of exhaustion after suffering).  Yes.  Did you call?  What’s the matter?