Poor dove! Poor Mary! Have you suffered thus? You had not even pride to keep you up. Were he my husband, I had left him then-- The ingrate! _Mary_. Not if you had loved as I; Yet what you know is but a bitter drop Of the full cup of gall that I have drained. Had he left me unstained,--had I rebelled Against the influence by which he sought To bring me to a compromise with him,-- To make my shrinking soul meet his half way, It had been better; but he had an art, When appetite or passion moved in him, That clothed his sins with fair apologies, And smoothed the wrinkles of a haggard guilt With the good-natured hand of charity. He knew he was a fool, he said, and said again; But human nature would be what it was, And life had never zest enough to bear Too much dilution; those who work like slaves Must have their days of frolic and of fun. He doubted whether God would punish sin; God was, in fact, too good to punish sin; For sin itself was a compounded thing, With weakness for its prime ingredient. And thus he fooled a heart that loved him well; And it went toward his heart by slow degrees, Till Virtue seemed a frigid anchorite, And Vice, a jolly fellow--bad enough, But not so bad as Christian people think. This was the cunning work of months--nay, years; And, meantime, Edward sank from bad to worse. But he had conquered. Wine was on his board, Without my protest--with a glass for me! His boon companions came and went, and made My home their rendezvous with my consent. The doughty oath that shocked my ears at first, The doubtful jest that meant, or might not mean, That which should set a woman's brow aflame, Became at last (oh, shame of womanhood!) A thing to frown at with a covert smile; Anything to smile at with a decent frown; A thing to steal a grace from, as I feigned The innocence of deaf unconsciousness. And I became a jester. I could jest In a wild way on sacred things and themes; And I have thought that in his better moods My husband shrank with horror from the work Which he had wrought in me. I do not know If, during all these downward-tending years, Edward kept well his faith with me. I know He used to tell me, in his boastful way, How he had broke the hearts of pretty maids. And that if he were single--well-a-day! The time was past for thinking upon that! And I had heart to toss the badinage Back in his teeth, with pay of kindred coin; And tell him lies to stir his bestial mirth; And make my boast of conquests; and pretend That the true heart I had bestowed on him Had flown, and left him but an empty hand.