Then Philip coming somewhat closer spoke. ‘Annie, there is a thing upon my mind, And it has been upon my mind so long, 400 That tho’ I know not when it first came there, I know that it will out at last. O Annie, It is beyond all hope, against all chance, That he who left you ten long years ago Should still be living; well then—let me speak: 405 I grieve to see you poor and wanting help: I cannot help you as I wish to do Unless—they say that women are so quick— Perhaps you know what I would have you know— I wish you for my wife. I fain would prove 410 A father to your children: I do think They love me as a father: I am sure That I love them as if they were mine own; And I believe, if you were fast my wife, That after all these sad uncertain years, 415 We might be still as happy as God grants To any of His creatures. Think upon it: For I am well-to-do—no kin, no care, No burthen, save my care for you and yours: And we have known each other all our lives, 420 And I have loved you longer than you know.’ Then answer’d Annie; tenderly she spoke: ‘You have been as God’s good angel in our house. God bless you for it, God reward you for it, Philip, with something happier than myself. 425 Can one love twice? can you be ever loved As Enoch was? what is it that you ask?’ ‘I am content’ he answer’d ‘to be loved A little after Enoch.’ ‘O’ she cried Scared as it were ‘dear Philip, wait a while: 430 If Enoch comes—but Enoch will not come— Yet wait a year, a year is not so long: Surely I shall be wiser in a year: O wait a little!’ Philip sadly said ‘Annie, as I have waited all my life 435 I well may wait a little.’ ‘Nay’ she cried ‘I am bound: you have my promise—in a year: Will you not bide your year as I bide mine?’ And Philip answer’d ‘I will bide my year.’ Here both were mute, till Philip glancing up 440 Beheld the dead flame of the fallen day Pass from the Danish barrow overhead; Then fearing night and chill for Annie, rose And sent his voice beneath him thro’ the wood. Up came the children laden with their spoil; 445 Then all descended to the port, and there At Annie’s door he paused and gave his hand, Saying gently ‘Annie, when I spoke to you, That was your hour of weakness. I was wrong. I am always bound to you, but you are free.’ 450 Then Annie weeping answer’d ‘I am bound.’