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Page 22
She said, "But only do
not look at me
And I will tell you, tell you with the truth
Of deathbeds. I would have you to the most
Know me as I have lived, as I have borne,
And been made desolate of every hope,
Of every love-sweet womanly dear hope,
For all my life. You'll judge me tenderly?
I did not feel how we were drifting on,
You and I ignorantly drifting on,
Along a treacherous stream that presently
Would whirl its eddies round us, suck us in.
Gervase, I did not think you loved me; no,
Not till it was already half too late.
You will not think I kept you in the dark
That you might darkling love me, will not think
I lured you, I the wicked siren, proud
To whelm so strong a life into my waves,
I the fond selfish elf-thing caring not
What weary weird I brought upon your life
If mine might be a little while made rich
By you, by your love, by my loving you.
Oh Gervase, judge me tenderly; my sin
Of silence was a great one, but not that.
I did not think to wrong you, no not that."
"I know it, Lota." Gervase answered her,
"I know - I'll no more blame you than I'd blame
The cloud from which a fork of lightning shot
And struck me blind and palsied. Let my wrongs,
If wrong there be, go by, and make me know
Your own sad story only."
Ah!" she sighed,
"It means no more than what the door can tell -
Madame Guarini - Did you see it there?"
"But not as your name?" he replied, "I thought
It was the woman of the house."
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