Page:Three Plays Sunderland Hills.pdf/68

Rh

Sylvester, what belated visitant With lilting voice and high unmirthful laugh, And restless, padding foot-fall to and fro Paces without? The light, uneasy step, Soft as a child's and restless as a beast's Thrills me with foolish, causeless fear.

(From without):

Sylvester

The hour has come!

Hour of my victory! Over th' inveterate adversary age. Is the door bolted fast? Who trys the bolt?

(Looking thro' the key-hole)

Only I see a slim and dusky hand That fingers at the latch!