As Philip pass'd along, hushed their voices.
Could he have read their looks, he might have known
Some dark o'er-clouding sorrow was at hand,
More nigh than he could think for, and more hard.
Then passed a woman from the ale-house door,
And, all unwitting Philip was so near,
Cried, "Have you heard who died just now?
'Twas Enoch Arden,—lost, but late returned;
And Miriam Lane has known it all along!"
As if some hand had struck a sudden blow,