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Alma-Tadema, Laurence, 1865?-1940

"The Wings of Icarus Being the Life of one Emilia Fletcher"

The blind was down, a shadow passed to and fro. I
could see very well by the way he moved that he was not calm. I
wanted to get to him. I tried the house door, but it was firmly
fastened. I sat down on the ground and kept my eyes fixed on the
window. He stooped repeatedly; once, as he swept the hair back from
his eyes, I thought I saw that he held something in his hand. I
picked up a stone, ready to throw it at the window, but my courage
failed me; then I noticed that the light flickered strangely, as
from fire; it faded, and all was dark.
I strained my ears in vain for a sound; a horrible fear seized me. I
flung my little stone, but it was very dark; I heard it strike the
bricks. Groping for more, I flung another, and yet another. One of
them struck the panes; I stood and held my breath,--no sound.
I made my way to the door again, tried it again; I laid my ear to
the key-hole, and then I distinctly heard the creaking of the
stairs; some one was coming down. The hall was crossed, the bolt of
the door was gently drawn. I fell back a little; some one came out
with a firm step, and sprang on to the path.


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