But now I once more breathe the air of home, I’ll never stray;
I only need a loving wife—why tremble, Gertrude, say?
But soon I’ll tell thee all I may; say, wilt thou share my joy?
God willing, this night, two weeks hence, I marry Kate LeRoy.”
Poor Gertrude heard no more that eve, nor saw she Paul again;
The rose-tints faded from her cheeks; at last she loved—in vain.
* * * * *
Her wasted form the church-yard holds; Ah! never this forget:
A woman’s love is woman’s life, e’en tho’ a gay coquette.
—Geo. M. Vickers.