hadowed
When sails were furled.

"Your words"--a pause, and quietly
With touch of calm self-ridicule:
"It may be so--for then," said he,
"I was a fool."

With that he took his book, and left
An awkward silence to my care,
That soon I filled with questions deft
And debonair;

And slid into an easy vein,
The favorite picture of the year;
The grouse upon her lord's domain--
The salmon weir;

Till she could fain a sudden thought
Upon neglected guests, and rise,
And make us her adieux, with nought
In her dark eyes

Acknowledging or shame or pain;
But just unveiling for our view
A little smile of still disdain
As she withdrew.

Then nearer did the sunshine creep,
And warmer came the wafting breeze;
The little babe was fast asleep
On mother's knees.

Fair was the face that o'er it leant,
The cheeks with beauteous blushes dyed;
The downcast lashes, shyly bent,
That failed to hide

Some tender shame. She did not see;
She felt his eyes that would not stir,
She looked upon her babe, and he
So looked at her.

So grave, so wondering, so content,
As one new waked to conscious life,
Whose sudden joy with fear is blent,
He said, "My wife."

"My wife, how beautiful you are!"
Then closer at her side reclined,
"The bold brown woman from afar
Comes, to me blind.

"And by comparison, I see
The majesty of matron grace,
And learn how pure, how fair can be
My own wife's face:

"Pure with all faithful passion, fair
With tender smiles that come and go,
And comforting as April air
After the snow.

"Fool that I was! my spirit frets
And marvels at the humbling truth,
That I have deigned to spend regrets
On my bruised youth.

"Its idol mocked thee, seated nigh,
And shamed me for the mad mistake;
I thank my God he could deny,
And she forsake.

"Ah, who am I, that God hath saved
Me from the doom I did desire,
And crossed the lot myself had craved,
To set me higher?

"What have I done that He should bow
From heaven to choose a wife for me?
And what deserved, He should endow
My home with THEE?

"My wife!" With that she turned her face
To kiss the hand about her neck;
And I went down and sought the place
Where leaped the beck--

The busy beck, that still would run
And fall, and falter its refrain;
And pause and shimmer in the