THE BROTHER'S HAND.
47
———Once at the sea-side, in an evening dance.
She felt—and, fluttering, tried to fly away—
The bird-like terror of the snake-like glance.
Poor, charméd little thing—and must it stay?
"Frederick?" "Well—yes." "Where is your brother, Hugh?"
"Am I my brother's keeper? Doubtless you
Who wounded and deserted him, can say."
She felt—and, fluttering, tried to fly away—
The bird-like terror of the snake-like glance.
Poor, charméd little thing—and must it stay?
"Frederick?" "Well—yes." "Where is your brother, Hugh?"
"Am I my brother's keeper? Doubtless you
Who wounded and deserted him, can say."
Hurt and bewildered, then she brokenly tried
The secret of his letter to recall.
His letter? With feigned anger he denied
That he had written—anything at all!
"What a mysterious piece of villainy!
Hugh never could have thought so ill of me.
He did not read it%" Then he heard her fall.
The secret of his letter to recall.
His letter? With feigned anger he denied
That he had written—anything at all!
"What a mysterious piece of villainy!
Hugh never could have thought so ill of me.
He did not read it%" Then he heard her fall.
. . . It was the crowded room, and they must go
Into the wide moonlighted air apart.
Where was his brother, then? He said, to know
He would give up the last throb of his heart;
It was two years or more since he had heard
Of Hugh one word, one single precious word:
Then broke into a cry that made her start.
Into the wide moonlighted air apart.
Where was his brother, then? He said, to know
He would give up the last throb of his heart;
It was two years or more since he had heard
Of Hugh one word, one single precious word:
Then broke into a cry that made her start.
