“Sister,” I could only gasp,
“Cease—do;—put by that knife”—
“Why?” answer’d she;—
“For what?—Your wish? Do you so often yield
When I wish aught?—Say now what would you give?”
“Give?—Any thing!” I answer’d.
“Be not rash,”
Came then. “It scarcely seems your way; besides,
The light is dim. How know you? may not ears
Not far off overhear us here? Beware!—