Alone Rusilla stood. He met her eye,
For it was singling him amid the crowd;
Obeying then the hand which beckon’d him,
He went with heart prepared, nor shrinking now,
But arm’d with self-approving thoughts that hour.
Entering in tremulous haste, he closed the door,
And turn’d to clasp her knees; but lo, she spread
Her arms, and catching him in close embrace,
Fell on his neck, and cried, My Son, my Son!...
Ere long, controlling that first agony