The footsteps came as though the walker read, Or added rows of figures by the way; There was much hesitation in the tread; Lion seemed pondering which, to go or stay; Then, seeing the door, which covered Michael, sway, He swiftly crossed and shut it. “Always one For order,” Michael muttered; “Now be swift, my son.” The action seemed to break the walker’s mood; The footsteps passed downstairs, along the hall, Out at the door and off towards the wood. “Gone,” Michael muttered. “Now to hazard all.” Outside, the frames still nodded on the wall. Michael stepped swiftly up the floor to try The door where Lion tapped and waited for reply. It was the eastmost of the rooms which look Over the fields of daffodils; the bound Scanned from its windows is Ryemeadows brook, Banked by gnarled apple trees and rising ground. Most gently Michael tapped; he heard no sound, Only the blind-pull tapping with the wind; The kitchen-door was opened; kitchen-clatter dinned. A woman walked along the hall below, Humming; a maid, he judged; the footsteps died, Listening intently still, he heard them go, Then swiftly turned the knob and went inside. The blind-pull at the window volleyed wide; The curtains streamed out like a waterfall; The pictures of the fox-hunt clacked along the wall. No one was there; no one; the room was hers. A book of praise lay open on the bed; The clothes-press smelt of many lavenders, Her spirit stamped the room; herself was fled. Here she found peace of soul like daily bread, Here, with her lover Lion; Michael gazed; He would have been the sharer had he not been crazed. He took the love-gift handkerchief again; He laid it on her table, near the glass, So opened that the broidered name was plain; “Plain,” he exclaimed, “she cannot let it pass. It stands and speaks for me as bold as brass. My answer, my heart’s cry, to tell her this, That she is still my darling; all she was she is. “So she will know at least that she was wrong, That underneath the blindness I was true. Fate is the strongest thing, though men are strong; Out from beyond life I was sealed to you. But my blind ways destroyed the cords that drew; And now, the evil done, I know my need; Fate has his way with those who mar what is decreed. “And now, good-bye.” He closed the door behind him, Then stept, with firm swift footstep down the stair, Meaning to go where she would never find him; He would go down through darkness to despair. Out at the door he stept; the autumn air Came fresh upon his face; none saw him go. “Good-bye, my love,” he muttered; “it is better so.”