She spoke loud,
In a voice that sounded unlike her own.
'We want Mr. Vane,' said a man, who bowed,
And uttered the words in a gentle tone.
They were very well dressed--they were not poor--
They had shining hats and cloaks wrapp'd about,
These men who stood at the happy hall-door,
Where Harry and I run in and run out.
(You want him? _I_ want him, I might have said;
But only to say so seem'd like a sin):
'He is not within'; and I shook my head,
And while I yet spoke _the men were_ within.
They did not appear to wish to intrude;
They did not attempt to frighten me now;
They did not push by me; they were not rude;--
But _somehow_ they enter'd--I know not how.
'It's no use trying to 'ide 'im, my dear,'
Said one, in a really fatherly way;
'In course we knows that the gen'leman's 'ere;
And till he turns up we shall 'ave to stay.'
'The gentleman's here? but no one has come;
And no one _can_ come--it is much too late.
Mr. Vane is out--he will soon be home;
But I really must ask you not to wait.'
The man laid a finger against his nose;
With a horrible slyness look'd at me:
'We understands all that 'ere, I suppose;
But you'd _better_ come to terms,' said he.
I stared at the man with my vacant eyes,
That dreamily question'd him how he dared?
And suddenly saw, with extreme surprise,
It was a policeman at whom I stared.
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