She spoke; and in one moment as it were, While yet she went about her household ways, Ev’n as she dwelt upon his latest words, That he had lov’d her longer than she knew, 455 That autumn into autumn flash’d again, And there he stood once more before her face, Claiming her promise. ‘Is it a year?’ she ask’d. ‘Yes, if the nuts’ he said ‘be ripe again: Come out and see.’ But she—she put him off— 460 So much to look to—such a change—a month— Give her a month—she knew that she was bound— A month—no more. Then Philip with his eyes Full of that lifelong hunger, and his voice Shaking a little like a drunkard’s hand, 465 ‘Take your own time, Annie, take your own time.’ And Annie could have wept for pity of him; And yet she held him on delayingly With many a scarce-believable excuse, Trying his truth and his long-sufferance, 470 Till half-another year had slipped away. By this the lazy gossips of the port, Abhorrent of a calculation crost Began to chafe as at a personal wrong. Some thought that Philip did but trifle with her; 475 Some that she but held off to draw him on; And others laugh’d at her and Philip too, As simple folk that knew not their own minds; And one, in whom all evil fancies clung Like serpent eggs together, laughingly 480 Would hint at worse in either. Her own son Was silent, tho’ he often look’d his wish; But evermore the daughter prest upon her To wed the man so dear to all of them And lift the household out of poverty; 485 And Philip’s rosy face contracting grew Careworn and wan; and all these things fell on her Sharp as reproach. At last one night it chanced That Annie could not sleep, but earnestly 490 Pray’d for a sign ‘my Enoch is he gone?’ Then compass’d round by the blind wall of night Brook’d not the expectant terror of her heart, Started from bed, and struck herself a light, Then desperately seized the holy Book, 495 Suddenly set it wide to find a sign, Suddenly put her finger on the text, ‘Under a palmtree.’ That was nothing to her: No meaning there: she closed the Book and slept: When lo! her Enoch sitting on a height, 500 Under a palmtree, over him the Sun: ‘He is gone,’ she thought, ‘he is happy, he is singing Hosanna in the highest: yonder shines The Sun of Righteousness, and these be palms Whereof the happy people strowing cried 505 “Hosanna in the highest!”’ Here she woke, Resolved, sent for him and said wildly to him ‘There is no reason why we should not wed.’ ‘Then for God’s sake,’ he answer’d, ‘both our sakes, So you will wed me, let it be at once.’ 510