



Produced by David Garcia, Eric Eldred, Charles Franks, and
the Online Distributed Proofreading Team











THE BRIDE OF FORT EDWARD.

FOUNDED ON
AN INCIDENT OF THE REVOLUTION

BY DELIA BACON




PREFACE.

I am extremely anxious to guard against any misconception of the
_design_ of this little work. I therefore take the liberty of apprising
the reader beforehand, that it is _not_ a _Play_. It was not intended
for the stage, and properly is not capable of representation. I have
chosen the form of the DIALOGUE as best suited to my purpose in
presenting anew the passions and events of a day long buried in the
past, but it is the dialogue in scenes arranged simply with reference to
the impressions of the _Reader_, and wholly unadapted to the
requirements of the actual stage. The plan here chosen, involves
throughout the repose, the thought, and sentiment of Actual life,
instead of the hurried action, the crowded plot, the theatrical
elevation which the Stage necessarily demands of the pure Drama. I have
only to ask that I may not be condemned for failing to fulfil the
conditions of a species of writing which I have not attempted.

The story involved in these Dialogues is essentially connected with a
well-known crisis in our National History; nay, it is itself a portion
of the historic record, and as such, even with many of its most trifling
minutiae, is imbedded in our earliest recollections; but it is rather in
its relation to the _abstract truth_ it embodies,--as exhibiting a law
in the relation of the human mind to its Invisible protector--the
apparent sacrifice of the _individual_ in the grand movements for the
_race_,--it is in this light, rather than as an historical exhibition,
that I venture to claim for it, as here presented, the indulgent
attention of my readers.

                                                            THE AUTHOR.
_New-York, July 7th_, 1839.





THE

BRIDE OF FORT EDWARD,

A DRAMATIC STORY.


SCENE. _Fort Edward and its vicinity, on the Hudson, near Lake George_.


PERSONS INTRODUCED.

_British and American officers and soldiers_.

_Indians employed in the British service_.

ELLISTON--_A religious missionary residing in the adjacent woods_.

GEORGE GREY--_A young American_.

LADY ACKLAND--_Wife of an English Officer_.

MARGARET--_Her maid_.

MRS. GREY--_The widow of a Clergyman residing near Fort Edward_.

HELEN, _and_ ANNIE,--_Her daughters_.

JANETTE--_A Canadian servant_.

_Children, &c_.

_Time included--from the afternoon of one day to the close of the
following_.





  PART

    I. THE CRISIS AND ITS VICTIM

   II. LOVE

  III. FATE

   IV. FULFILMENT

    V. FULFILMENT

   VI. RECONCILIATION






THE BRIDE OF FORT EDWARD.

       *       *       *       *       *

PART FIRST.

       *       *       *       *       *

INDUCTION.

DIALOGUE I.


SCENE. _The road-side on the <DW72> of a wooded hill near Fort Edward.
        The speakers, two young soldiers,--Students in arms_.


_1st Student_. These were the evenings last year, when the bell
From the old college tower, would find us still
Under the shady elms, with sauntering step
And book in hand, or on the dark grass stretched,
Or lounging on the fence, with skyward gaze
Amid the sunset warble. Ah! that world,--
That world we lived in then--where is it now?
Like earth to the departed dead, methinks.

_2nd Stud_. Yet oftenest, of that homeward path I think,
Amid the deepening twilight slowly trod,
And I can hear the click of that old gate,
As once again, amid the chirping yard,
I see the summer rooms, open and dark,
And on the shady step the sister stands,
Her merry welcome, in a mock reproach,
Of Love's long childhood breathing. Oh this year,
This year of blood hath made me old, and yet,
Spite of my manhood now, with all my heart,
I could lie down upon this grass and weep
For those old blessed times, the times of peace again.

_1st Stud_. There will be weeping, Frank, from older eyes,
Or e'er again that blessed time shall come.
Hearts strong and glad now, must be broke ere then:
Wild tragedies, that for the days to come
Shall faery pastime make, must yet ere then
Be acted here; ay, with the genuine clasp
Of anguish, and fierce stabs, not buried in silk robes,
But in hot hearts, and sighs from wrung souls' depths.
And they shall walk in light that we have made,
They of the days to come, and sit in shadow
Of our blood-reared vines, not counting the wild cost.
Thus 'tis: among glad ages many,--one--
In garlands lies, bleeding and bound. Times past,
And times to come, on ours, as on an altar--
Have laid down their griefs, and unto us
Is given the burthen of them all.

_2nd Stud_.                  And yet,
See now, how pleasantly the sun shines there
Over the yellow fields, to the brown fence
Its hour of golden beauty--giving still.
And but for that faint ringing from the fort,
That comes just now across the vale to us,
And this small band of soldiers planted here,
I could think this was peace, so calmly there,
The afternoon amid the valley sleeps.

_1st