A man, devoted to the aims you claim,
So little circumspect.”
What meant he now?
Could he believe that I had form’d a plan
To woo his Edith, knowing she was his?—
And could my sleepless nights, my troubled heart,
My prayerful deeds, my nature that he knew,
Be so misjudged, without some fault in him?—
“So little circumspect in what?” I ask’d.
And then with words that could but anger me,