knelt.
“Now, O Lord, forgive her, for she ain’t to blame,” he cried;
“For I ought to seen her trouble and a-gone away and died;
Why a girl like her—God bless her—’twasn’t likely as her’d rest
With her bonny head forever on a ’ostler’s ragged vest.
“It was kind o’ her to bear with me, all the long and happy time,
So for my sake please to bless her, though you count her deed a crime;
If so be I don’t pray proper, Lord, forgive me, for you see
I can talk all right to ’osses, but I’m kinder o’ strange with Thee.”
Ne’er a line came to the cottage from the woman who had flown,