The worst that love can contemplate,
And which can turn that love to hate.[1317]
One night, when he had gone from me,
I found a letter which he carelessly
Had overlooked. The script[1318] was small
And neat—a woman’s hand! A wall
Of fire outstretched[1319] before my eyes;
A nameless horror seemed to rise.
No, no! this could not be. He might
Be bad, be dead to sense of right,