d was there, and ready to come,
And the cloud was the fear of change in _him_!

Harry is changed--he is graver,--I think
Never I'll see the old Harry again:
There's a look in his face that makes my heart sink,
For it is a look of a hopeless pain.

Sometimes I hardly can keep down my cries--
I could wring my hands--I could tear my hair--
When an expression comes into his eyes,
Which is the expression of a despair.

He never alludes to the dreadful past;
But when his lips tremble and brow is knit,
I cannot bear it, and cry out at last,
'O talk of it, Harry--O talk of _it_!'

His eyes are full of a helpless regret
(And I almost wish I was lying dead);
Will he not talk of it? not even yet?--
He speaks in a whisper, and shakes his head.

'I cannot--I dare not.' 'You can--you dare--
You must do it, Harry--just for my sake;
For this burthen, which it is _not_ to bear,
Is crushing my heart, and my heart will break.'

He kisses my lips--he presses my hand--
Looking straight in my face without surprise;
But it seems that he _cannot_ understand,
And very wide of the mark he replies--

'I will not shadow that innocent heart
With the lightest cloud that may dim its light.'
'But my life in your life must take its part,
Or I am lost in the darkness of night.

I married you, Harry, for good or ill,
For better or worse, for sickness or health.
O let me the beautiful vow fulfil,
Joyously, utterly--never by stealth!
I am _not_ your wife while you treat me thus,
And life is becoming too hard to bear;
Is there that in the heart of one of _us_,
That the heart of the other must not share?

'I almost died when you left me, my dear;
Yet you did it quite for my good, you know;
O where should I be if I was not here?
'Neath a little grass hillock lying low!
You would be living, to labour and strive,
And I should be lying quite dead--quite dead!
You would be thinking of me as alive,
While daisies were growing over my head.

And now--for my good--will you crush my life
With a burthen it cannot bear, I _know_?
O Harry, my darling, I _am_ your wife--
O what have I done that you treat me so?'

He stared in my eyes with a sort of frown,
That more than a smile gave promise of grace;
The mask that he wore fell suddenly down,
A wonderful change came over his face.

He sat at my feet, and his head he laid
Low down