Some feelings utter’d, some were not explain’d; And she enraptured with her treasure grew, The sight familiar, but the pleasure new. Yet there appear’d within that tranquil state Some threat’ning prospect of uncertain fate; Between the married when a secret lies, It wakes suspicion from enforced disguise. Still thought the wife upon her absent friend, With all that must upon her truth depend: “There is no being in the world beside, 170 Who can discover what that friend will hide; Who knew the fact, knew not my name or state, Who these can tell cannot the fact relate; But thou, Eliza, canst the whole impart, And all my safety is thy generous heart.” Mix’d with these fears--but light and transient these-- Fled years of peace, prosperity, and ease; So tranquil all that scarce a gloomy day For days of gloom unmix’d prepared the way. One eve, the wife, still happy in her state, 180 Sang gaily, thoughtless of approaching fate; Then came a letter, that (received in dread Not unobserved) she in confusion read; The substance this--“Her friend rejoiced to find That she had riches with a grateful mind; While poor Eliza had from place to place Been lured by hope to labour for disgrace; That every scheme her wandering husband tried, Pain’d while he lived, and perish’d when he died.” She then of want in angry style complain’d: } 190 Her child a burthen to her life remain’d, } Her kindred shunn’d her prayers, no friend her } soul sustain’d. } “Yet why neglected? Dearest Anna knew Her worth once tried, her friendship ever true; She hoped, she trusted, though by wants oppress’d, To lock the treasured secret in her breast; Yet, vex’d by trouble, must apply to one, For kindness due to her for kindness done.” In Anna’s mind was tumult; in her face Flushings of dread had momentary place. 200 “I must,” she judged, “these cruel lines expose, Or fears, or worse than fears, my crime disclose.” The letter shown, he said, with sober smile-- “Anna, your friend has not a friendly style. Say, where could you with this fair lady dwell, Who boasts of secrets that she scorns to tell?” “At school,” she answer’d; he “at school!” replied; “Nay, then I know the secrets you would hide: Some [early] longings these, without dispute; Some youthful gaspings for forbidden fruit. 210 Why so disorder’d, love? are such the crimes That give us sorrow in our graver times? Come, take a present for your friend, and rest In perfect peace--you find you are confess’d.” This cloud, though past, alarm’d the conscious wife, Presaging gloom and sorrow for her life; Who to her answer join’d a fervent prayer, That her Eliza would a sister spare: