254
MARY.
You must forgive poor Mary; she has been
Such a kind sister, such a loving daughter,
The first offence, they say, should find some favour,
And Mary never crossed your will before,
And never would have done so, but for love
Of William, that deserves her love so well."
But at his words my father's brow grew dark,
He clenched his teeth as if to bar some word—
I dared not stay to hear it, but rose up.
And crying, "Brother, anger not our father
For one like me, that have done too much wrong
Already without that," just as I was
I went forth from among them to the darkness,
And through it and a heavy rain that fell
Unfelt upon me, made my way, nor stopped
Nor even knew where I was going, till
I found myself at William's mother's house,
Wet and bewildered, choked with tears, scarce able
To speak, or give an answer to their questions.
Oh, what a different coming home to that
I had so often pictured to myself!
I used to think that were I but with William,
No matter where or how, I must be happy;
But now I found that we may buy the things
That are most precious, at too dear a cost,
With loss of conscience and the peace of mind
That goes with it—for I was with him now,
But not the thought that we were one for ever,
That I belonged to him, that nothing now
Could part us, no, not even William's words
Such a kind sister, such a loving daughter,
The first offence, they say, should find some favour,
And Mary never crossed your will before,
And never would have done so, but for love
Of William, that deserves her love so well."
But at his words my father's brow grew dark,
He clenched his teeth as if to bar some word—
I dared not stay to hear it, but rose up.
And crying, "Brother, anger not our father
For one like me, that have done too much wrong
Already without that," just as I was
I went forth from among them to the darkness,
And through it and a heavy rain that fell
Unfelt upon me, made my way, nor stopped
Nor even knew where I was going, till
I found myself at William's mother's house,
Wet and bewildered, choked with tears, scarce able
To speak, or give an answer to their questions.
Oh, what a different coming home to that
I had so often pictured to myself!
I used to think that were I but with William,
No matter where or how, I must be happy;
But now I found that we may buy the things
That are most precious, at too dear a cost,
With loss of conscience and the peace of mind
That goes with it—for I was with him now,
But not the thought that we were one for ever,
That I belonged to him, that nothing now
Could part us, no, not even William's words
