(He walks around the left corner of the house. A pause. Then Captain Adam Brant enters from the drive, left, front. He starts on seeing Lavinia but immediately puts on his most polite, winning air. One is struck at a glance by the peculiar quality his face in repose has of being a life-like mask rather than living flesh. He has a broad, low forehead, framed by coal-black straight hair which he wears noticeably long, pushed back carelessly from his forehead as a poet’s might be. He has a big aquiline nose, bushy eyebrows, swarthy complexion, hazel eyes. His wide mouth is sensual and moody — a mouth that can be strong and weak by turns. He wears a mustache, but his heavy cleft chin is clean-shaven. In figure he is tall, broad-shouldered and powerful. He gives the impression of being always on the offensive or defensive, always fighting life. He is dressed with an almost foppish extravagance, with touches of studied carelessness, as if a romantic Byronic appearance were the ideal in mind. There is little of the obvious ship captain about him, except his big, strong hands and his deep voice. )

BRANT —(bowing with an exaggerated politeness ) Good afternoon. (coming and taking her hand which she forces herself to hold out to him ) Hope you don’t mind my walking in on you without ceremony. Your mother told me —

LAVINIA — I know. She had to go out for a while and she said I was to keep you company until she returned.

BRANT —(gallantly ) Well, I’m in good luck, then. I hope she doesn’t hurry back to stand watch over us. I haven’t had a chance to be alone with you since — that night we went walking in the moonlight, do you remember? (He has kept her hand and he drops his voice to a low, lover-like tone. Lavinia cannot repress a start, agitatedly snatching her hand from his and turning away from him. )

LAVINIA —(regaining command of herself — slowly ) What do you think of the news of Lee surrendering, Captain? We expect my father home very soon now. (At something in her tone he stares at her suspiciously, but she is looking straight before her. ) Why don’t you sit down?

BRANT — Thank you. (He sits on the bench at her right. He has become wary now, feeling something strange in her attitude but not able to make her out — casually ) Yes, you must be very happy at the prospect of seeing your father again. Your mother has told me how close you’ve always been to him.

LAVINIA — Did she? (then with intensity ) I love Father better than anyone in the world. There is nothing I wouldn’t do — to protect him from hurt!

BRANT —(watching her carefully — keeping his casual tone ) You care more for him than for your mother?

LAVINIA — Yes.

BRANT — Well, I suppose that’s the usual way of it. A daughter feels closer to her father and a son to his mother. But I should think you ought to be a born exception to that rule.

LAVINIA — Why?

BRANT — You’re so like your mother in some ways. Your face is the dead image of hers. And look at your hair. You won’t meet hair like yours and hers again in a month of Sundays. I only know of one other woman who had it.