Then while he sat there, with his flushing cheeks,
Himself defending thus,—I, charm’d the while,—
The door flew open, and behind it stood
My father and the priest.
Then had they said
But one harsh word, it had not been so sad.
But kind they were, too kind. Ah, sister dear,
Have you not felt how much more pain it gives,
This pain from kindness? Love is like the sun:
It brightens life, but yet may parch it too.