He first must break her hold upon his hand. She with a spinster-friend retired awhile— “Not long,” she said—and said it with a smile. Not so had James determined.—He essay’d To move suspicion in the gentle maid. 240 Words not succeeding, he design’d to pass The spinster’s window with some forward lass. If in her heart so pure no pang was known, At least he might affect it in his own. There was a brother of her friend, and he, Though poor and rude, might serve for jealousy. If all should fail, he, though of schemes bereft, Might leave her yet!—They fail’d, and she was left. Poor Patty bore it with a woman’s mind, And with an angel’s, sorrowing and resign’d. 250 Ere this in secret long she wept and pray’d, Long tried to think her lover but delay’d The union, once his hope, his prayer, his pride;— She could in James as in herself confide: Was he not bound by all that man can bind, In love, in honour, to be just and kind? Large was his debt, and, when their debts are large, The ungrateful cancel what the just discharge; Nor payment only in their pride refuse, But first they wrong their friend, and then accuse. 260 Thus Patty finds her bosom’s claims denied, Her love insulted, and her right defied. She urged it not; her claim the maid withdrew, } For maiden pride would not the wretch pursue; } She sigh’d to find him false, herself so good and true. } Now all his fears, at least the present, still— He talk’d, good man! about his uncle’s will— “All unexpected,” he declared—“surprised Was he—and his good uncle ill-advised. He no such luck had look’d for, he was sure, 270 Nor such deserved,” he said, with look demure; “He did not merit such exceeding love; But his, he meant, so help him God, to prove.” And he has proved it! all his cares and schemes Have proved the exceeding love James bears to James. But to proceed—for we have yet the facts That show how Justice looks on wicked acts; For, though not always, she at times appears— To wake in man her salutary fears. James, restless grown—for no such mind can rest— 280 Would build a house, that should his wealth attest; In fact, he saw, in many a clouded face, } A certain token of his own disgrace, } And wish’d to overawe the murmurs of the place. } The finish’d building show’d the master’s wealth, And noisy workmen drank his Honour’s health— “His and his heirs”—and at the thoughtless word A strange commotion in his bosom stirr’d. “‘Heirs!’ said the idiots?”—and again that clause In the strange Will corrected their applause. 290 Prophetic fears! for now reports arose That spoil’d “his Honour’s” comforts and repose. A stout young Sailor, though in battle maim’d, Arrived in port, and his possessions claim’d. The Will he read: he stated his demand, And his attorney grasp’d at house and land.