To silks and satin gowns,
But I doubt if God made like degrees
In courtly hearts and clowns;
Yet homely hose must step apart
Where gartered princes stand;
Ah, may he wear my love at heart
That wins her lily hand!”
—Hood.
“Well, I warned you,” said old Katharine, “but you would not heed an old crone’s tale. I warned your grandmother before you, but she would not listen, and there was the young squire of Elmdale broke his heart and died for love of her, and she knowing all the time that she caused it all by her unwise love of him. Oh, I’ve no patience with these willful Chiltons! But I’m getting on, thank the Lord! I won’t live to see your unborn children, my lady, driving thoughtless men to their death.”
“Oh, Kathie, how wicked and cruel you are!” sobbed Lady Edith.