"The first word I spoke
Made all my meaning plain to her; she shook,
But more perhaps with anger than with grief;
She turned her face away, and covered it
With both her hands, and so remained until
I had done speaking; then she rose at once,
Her face averted still, (she durst not show it!)
And grasped my hand, and, in a husky tone
Sheathing her wrath, exclaimed: 'To-morrow, come
At twelve—at twelve!' and rushed out of the room.
"Prompt at the hour I went; and in the parlor
Sat down expectant; and she entered soon,
Clad all in white; upon her face the marks
Of passionate tears, and a beseeching sorrow
In every look! A desk of ivory,
Borne in her hands, she placed upon the table;
I rose to meet her, but she motioned me
To keep my seat; then, with an arm thrown over
A high-backed chair, as if to keep from falling,
(The attitude was charming, and she knew it),
She said: 'Take back the little desk you gave me;
In it are all your letters,—all your gifts.
Take them, and give me mine.'
"The last few words
Came as if struggling through a crowd of sobs.
What could I do but lead her to the sofa,
Sit by her side, take her white hand, and say:
'This is no final separation, Anna;
It is a trial merely of our loves?'
"'A light affair perhaps to you,' she said,
'But death to me. As whim or pleasure points,
You can go here, go there, and lead the life
You most affect; while I, the home-kept slave
Of others' humors, must brave poverty,
Neglect and cruel treatment.'—'Did you say
Poverty, Anna?'—'Do not breathe a word
Of what I tell you: father is a bankrupt,
Or soon will be; and we shall be compelled
To quit our freestone house, and breathe the air
Of squalid want. From that I'd not recoil,
Could I have loving looks and words; for what
Is poverty if there's but love to gild it?
Ah! poverty'—'Nay, Anna, poverty
You shall not know, only accept from me
The means to fix you in becoming plenty.'
'Never!' she cried; 'ah! cruel to propose it!'
And then more tears; till, touched and foiled, I said,
Looking her in the face while she gazed up
In mine with eager tenderness,—'Accept
A happy home, if I can help to make it.
We will be married, Anna, when you please.'
"And so she had her way, and we were married;
And the next day all Wall Street was aroused
By news that brave Papa had won renown
Not simply as a bankrupt, but a swindler,
Escaping, by the skin of his teeth, the Tombs.
'No matter! Papa has a son-in-law,
A greenhorn, as they say, who occupies
A stately house on the Fifth Avenue,
And, in his hall, Papa will hang his hat.'
And, in all this, Rumor but hit the truth.
"Six months rolled by. Repeatedly I asked,
'Where's Brother Ambrose?' He, it seems, was held
In such request by government, that rarely
Could he be spared for home enjoyment; but
At length I did encounter Brother Ambrose,
And once again I found him—
"Well, the scales
Dropped from my eyes. I asked no other proof
Than a quick look I saw the two exchange,—
Forgetful of a mirror at their side,—
To see I was betrayed. He was no brother.
I sought more proof; but they, imagining
I knew more than I did, were swift to act.
Before I could find steps for a divorce
She stole a march upon me, and herself
Took the initiative, and played the victim,
Nipping me as a culprit in the law.
"It was a plot so dexterously framed,
All the precautions and contrivances
Were with such craft foreplanned; the perjuries
Were all so well adjusted; my pure life
Was made to seem so black; the witnesses
Were so well drilled, so perfect in their parts,—
In short, it was a work of art so thorough,
I did not marvel at the Court's decision,
Which was, for her,—divorce and alimony;
For me,—no freedom, since no privilege
Of marrying again. Such the decree!"
"I'm glad you spurned it as you did!" cried Linda,
While her cheeks flushed, and hot, indignant tears,
Responded to her anger. Then she kissed
Her father on each cheek, and tenderly
Embraced her mother too; and they, the while,
With a slight moisture in their smiling eyes,
Exchanged a nod. Then Percival to Linda:
"Why, what an utter rebel you would be,
You little champion of the higher law!
Sit down, and hear me out."
"If such their justice,"
Cried Linda, irrepressible and panting,
"Who would not spurn it, and hurl back defiance
To all the Justice Shallows on the Bench—
To them and their decrees!"