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Page 44
"My father died; and then
I did his wish,
And took my shelter at the Westlands, earned
Some part of what they gave and plucked up heart
To bear their charity for what remained,
Because she was my father's sister. Then
I met you, Gervase. Is there more to tell?"
She ceased; yet stopped him in the answer, "Nay
There is this much - so that you may believe
I was not guilty of this pain of ours
For wilfulness - Oh! let me make you know.
I was half blinded. I had wept so much,
And then a sunshine came; I only saw
A sort of golden mist, saw not the verge
Of the great precipice to which I walked.
Oh Gervase, I was cheated by my heart,
That did not like to part from happiness;
And I believed, because I would believe,
Love was not love, and you and I might smile
Like sister and dear brother all our lives
And never find a miss of warmer smiles
Upon each other's faces. I thought first
Your love was for sweet stately Evelyn,
And afterwards - ah then I would not think;
Till Evelyn said a word which I laughed off
And then remembered in a sadder mind:
And surely I did try to change you then -
I thought I did. I meant to keep the pain
For me alone, and let you turn from me
With a free heart, forgetting. Ah! my friend,
Forgive me, I would freely bear worse harm
Than any yet fallen on me, to know you
Scathless from my poor folly. But, alas!
It is too late: the adder in the grass
Looks not too carefully what hand disturbs
Its bed in picking daisy-buds, but digs
Its fangs in the nearest flesh. We both are stung:
Only I think that you, who have so much
To make life strong in you, will soon throw off
The last taint of the venom. Oh, you'll find
Balm everywhere; your life is still a hope,
As lives no older yet than yours and mine
Are in their natural current; you can pass
Along a safer way and find new flowers.
Oh Gervase you, whom I made sad awhile,
You will be happy, I - "
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