And Philip’s rosy face contracting grew
Careworn and wan; and all these things fell on her
Sharp as reproach.
At last one night it chanced
That Annie could not sleep, but earnestly 490
Pray’d for a sign ‘my Enoch is he gone?’
Then compass’d round by the blind wall of night
Brook’d not the expectant terror of her heart,
Started from bed, and struck herself a light,
Then desperately seized the holy Book, 495