The claws of mischief? Who! Why, all the world, Save the fond, wrinkled, hoaiy fool, thy father. Out, girl, for shame ! He will be here anon ; Hence to your room — he shall not find you here. Thank God, thank God I no evil hath been wrought That may not be repaired. I have sat by At all your meetings. You shall have no more ; Myself will look to that Away, away ! [Exit Masia.

BIBERA (looka after her).

As one who has received a deadly hurt, She walks. What if my doubts be false ? The terror Of an unlooked-for blow, a treacherous thrust When least expected — that is all she showed. On a false charge, myself had acted thus. She had been moved far otherwise if guilty ; She had wept, protested, begged — she had not left With such a proud and speechless show of grief. I was too harsh, too quick on slight suspicion. What did Annicca say ? Why, she said naught. 'T was her grave air, her sudden reticence, Her ill-assumed indifference. They play on me ; They know me not. They dread my violent pas- sions. Not guessing what a firm and constant bridle