We shall never have cause for such joy again in all of our three score years!
Speak, I command you! ’Tis cruel as hell to mock at my helplessness so,—
’Tis unworthy, unwomanly, all unlike the tender Saville I know,—
Dear, I am frightened—a whimpering child—come to me or I go
Seeking you, sick to the soul with fear, staggering to and fro!”
And he rose and gropingly crossed the room, grasping the empty air,
And loud in his heart was a knocking dread and low on his lips was a prayer,
And at last by the door his foot struck dull in the coil of her soft sweet hair.
