The journey’s long, but you are full of ruth;
And she who shares your heart, and knows its truth,
Has faith in your affection, far above
The fear of a poor dying object’s love.’
‘She has, my Udolph,’ he replied, ‘’tis true;
And oft we talk of Julia—oft of you.’
Their converse came abruptly to a close;
For scarce could each his troubled looks compose,
When visitants, to Constance near akin
(In all but traits of soul), were ushered in.