Always upon another secret midnight;
And witnessed every noon how the gold woman,
Smiling her light smile, seemed not to know
Of Dora; was no witch at all; was no one.
III
Meanwhile a little mountain house was murmurous
With his own name—evil, could he but hear it.
Darius had discovered his sweet daughter’s
Swelling, and had pressed her for the cause;
And yesterday, in terror, Dora yielded.