_Sure_ as that I no more will bear This russet doublet now to wear:— That I no more will condescend To own Ralph Roughspeech for _my friend_, Nor tolerate the pert monition Of neighbours, in my chang’d condition: _Sure_—but, ye Powers! what do I see?— The mill! the mill!—Oh! woe is me! My only stay, my certain aid, All level with the earth is laid!—— Presumptuous! I have scorn’d my fate, And wrought this mischief: all too late The error of my life I see, And misery my portion be. Time, that no more I may recal, By wise men priz’d, and dear to all, How have I squander’d! how abus’d! My friends, my neighbours, basely us’d! How shall I bear, acquaintance meeting, Scorn to behold where once was greeting? Now comes _their_ turn to treat the fool With jeers, contempt, and ridicule. Laugh’d at on all sides—and to know And _feel_ I have _deserv’d_ the blow! Undone by mine own discontent!— But ah! too late I do repent. Forc’d now in poverty to roam, I soon must quit this quiet home; And where with thee, poor Kate! to fly?— Oh! I could lay me down and die! Wretch that I am! Kate, Kate, forgive!” “_My_ pardon, dearest Whang, receive: But ’twas not _I_ who gave thee health, Strength, talent to improve thy wealth; Who cast thy lot in such fair land, Or bless’d thee with such liberal hand. O! turn to _Him_ with thankful prayer Who deigns e’en yet thy life to spare; Implore His pardon—kneel with me; This ruin might have cover’d _thee_. But thou art spar’d, and yet remain The means our livelihood to gain: A heartfelt willing perseverance Will mend our lot before a year hence. Thou knowest well that neighbour Ralph Each morn will spare an hour or half To help us to repair the mill.” “Doest think,” Whang blushing ask’d, “he will?” “Yes, yes, I do believe so too, He was a neighbour kind and true; And if his counsels gave offence, The fault was in my want of sense. Yet, ideot! I”—“Enough!” cried Kate, Exulting in her alter’d mate; “To see our faults in their just light, Is next akin to acting right. But time no longer let us waste; I’ll to friend Roughspeech quickly haste: Own thou, meanwhile,” she smiling cried, “To have a help-mate in thy bride Is _treasure perhaps_ of equal worth With _aught conceal’d beneath the earth_.” With look of conscious proud delight, She caught the sound of, “Kate, thou’rt right;” While a “small voice” responsive join’d Applausive music in her mind.