Her speech was low, her every look convey'd - "I am a slave, subservient and afraid." All trace of comfort vanish'd; if she spoke, The noisy friend upon her purpose broke; To her remarks with insolence replied, And her assertions doubted or denied: While the meek Anna like an infant shook, Woe-struck and trembling at the serpent's look. "There is," said Stafford, "yes, there is a cause - This creature frights her, overpowers, and awes." Six weeks had pass'd--"In truth, my love, this friend Has liberal notions; what does she intend? Without a hint she came, and will she stay Till she receives the hint to go away?" Confused the Wife replied, in spite of truth, "I love the dear companion of my youth." "'Tis well," said Stafford; "then your loves renew: Trust me, your rivals, Anna, will be few." Though playful this, she felt too much distress'd T'admit the consolation of a jest. Ill she reposed, and in her dreams would sigh, And, murmuring forth her anguish, beg to die; With sunken eye, slow pace, and pallid cheek, She look'd confusion, and she fear'd to speak. All this the Friend beheld, for, quick of sight, She knew the husband eager for her flight; And that by force alone she could retain The lasting comforts she had hope to gain. She now perceived, to win her post for life, She must infuse fresh terrors in the wife; Must bid to friendship's feebler ties adieu, And boldly claim the object in her view: She saw the husband's love, and knew the power Her friend might use in some propitious hour. Meantime the anxious Wife, from pure distress Assuming courage, said, "I will confess;" But with her children felt a parent's pride, And sought once more the hated truth to hide. Offended, grieved, impatient, Stafford bore The odious change, till he could bear no more: A friend to truth, in speech and action plain, He held all fraud and cunning in disdain; But fraud to find, and falsehood to detect, For once he fled to measures indirect. One day the Friends were seated in that room The Guest with care adorn'd, and named her home. To please the eye, there curious prints were placed, And some light volumes to amuse the taste; Letters and music on a table laid, The favourite studies of the fair betray'd; Beneath the window was the toilet spread, And the fire gleam'd upon a crimson bed. In Anna's looks and falling tears were seen How interesting had their subjects been: "Oh! then," resumed the Friend, "I plainly find That you and Stafford know each other's mind; I must depart, must on the world be thrown, Like one discarded, worthless, and unknown; But, shall I carry, and to please a foe, A painful secret in my bosom? No! Think not your Friend a reptile you may tread Beneath your feet, and say, the worm is dead; I have some feeling, and will not be made The scorn of her whom love cannot persuade: Would not your word, your slightest wish, effect All that I hope, petition, or expect? The power you have, but you the use decline -