“And when misgivings weighed on me
In my lover’s absence, hurriedly,
And much distrest,
I took you . . . Ah, that such could be! . . .
“Now, saw you when crossing from yonder shore
At yesternoon, that the packet bore
On a white-wreathed bier
A coffined body towards the fore?
“Well, while you stood at the other end,
The loungers talked, and I could but lend
A listening ear,
For they named the dead. ’Twas the wife of my friend.
“He was there, but did not note me, veiled,
Yet I saw that a joy, as of one unjailed,
Now shone in his gaze;
He knew not his hope of me just had failed!
“They had brought her home: she was born in this isle;
And he will return to his domicile,
And pass his days
Alone, and not as he dreamt erstwhile!”
“—So you’ve lost a sprucer spouse than I!”
She held her peace, as if fain deny
She would indeed
For his pleasure’s sake, but could lip no lie.
“One far less formal and plain and slow!”
She let the laconic assertion go
As if of need
She held the conviction that it was so.
“Regard me as his he always should,
He had said, and wed me he vowed he would
In his prime or sere
Most verily do, if ever he could.
“And this fulfilment is now his aim,
For a letter, addressed in my maiden name,
Has dogged me here,
Reminding me faithfully of his claim.
“And it started a hope like a lightning-streak
That I might go to him—say for a week—
And afford you right
To put me away, and your vows unspeak.