OLD MAN.

And fearest still to throw
Thine arms round him thou lovest?

ELECTRA.

O, no more!
Thy sign hath conquered me.... (_throwing herself into_ ORESTES' _arms_).
At last, at last!
Thy face like light! And do I hold thee fast,
Unhoped for?

ORESTES.

Yea, at last! And I hold thee.

ELECTRA.

I never knew...

ORESTES.

I dreamed not.

ELECTRA.

Is it he,
Orestes?