Miserable wretch! fly from this place.' 'If there are spies without, I am safer here,' replied the man, standing aghast.

'I will remain here, and will not fly till the danger is past.' 'It is too late!' cried the widow, who had listened for the step, and not to him.

'Hark to that foot upon the ground.

Do you tremble to hear it! It is my son, my idiot son!' As she said this wildly, there came a heavy knocking at the door.

He looked at her, and she at him.
'Let him come in,' said the man, hoarsely.