8
Runaway negroes, rogues transported, too,
Escaping from the godly discipline
Of our Virginia plantations
Lenore:
It is enough that I am safe arriv'd,
So that must serve, good Madam Pomeroy.
I pray you, pardon me, for I must go.
(Exit door right.)
Madam Pomeroy. (To herself):
So you are tacit, Madam, close and coy?
But I have guess'd your secret truly first,
Not long from England, that is certain sure,
At night, on foot, all baggageless, alone,
By unfrequented by-ways hither come,
Lame, where the anklet gall'd her, clear as day!
A prisoner from the plantation 'scap'd.
(Looking from window as Avis appears from garden.)
Avis, sweet child, what would you with me?