'My dear,' the lady said; 'you poor, poor woman,
Have you no friends to go to?' 'I'm alone.
I've parents living, but they're both inhuman,
And none can cure what pierces to the bone.
I'll have to leave and go where I'm not known.
Begin my life again.' Her friend said 'Yes.
Certainly that. But leave me your address:
For I might hear of something; I'll enquire,
Perhaps the boy might be reprieved or pardoned.
Couldn't we ask the rector or the squire