Chapter XLIII

With breath suspended, now the whole command Waits the approach of that equestrian band. Nearer it comes, still nearer, then a cry, Half sob, half shriek, goes piercing God's blue sky, And Brewster, like a nimble-footed doe, Or like an arrow hurrying from a bow, Shoots swiftly through the intervening space And that lost sister clasps, in sorrowing love's embrace.