The Story
of Saville
If you should not see as they say you will, if instead of triumphal song,
Your voice breaks down in a heartstruck wail at a failure abrupt and complete,
I could not survive the cruel shock,—I should drop down dead at your feet!”
“Nay now, Saville, thou art far too bold,—why, what shall it profit me
The fleecy flocks of the sky to mark, the crocus and primrose to see,
Ay, even my first love, ‘Rupert’s Trust,’ and not—O Saville! not thee?
Yet thou shalt never ask boon in vain,—I will thine almoner be,
A warden most lenient,—Go, dear heart! for a score of hours thou art free!”
And softly she thanked her lord and liege, meek as a scriptural wife,
And he might not discern from her even tones with what pangs her bosom was rife,
Nor dreamed that in passing away that night she was passing sheer out of his life.
And she came and knelt by his chair once more, wrapped in her soft rich cloak,
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