From all that was left to him here—her grave;
So I stayed by his side that night, and save
One heart-cutting cry, he uttered no sound—
O God! that wail—like the wail of a hound!
’Tis six long years since I heard that cry,
But ’twill ring in my ears till the day I die.
Since that fearful night no one has heard
Poor David Sloane utter sound or word.
You have seen to-day how he always goes;[1226]
He’s been given that suit of convict’s clothes