She hid her face and wept.—Contrition stung
Theodric for the tears his words had wrung.
‘But no,’ she cried, ‘unsay not what you’ve said,
Nor grudge one prop on which my pride is stayed;
To think I could have merited your faith,
Shall be my solace even unto death?’—
‘Julia,’ Theodric said, with purposed look
Of firmness, ‘my reply deserved rebuke;
But by your pure and sacred peace of mind,
And by the dignity of womankind,