There was no time for scruple; Secretly I filched her missive, conned it, Learnt that he Would lodge with her ere he came home to me. To reach the port before her, And, unscanned, There wait to intercept them Soon I planned: That, in her stead, _I_ might before him stand. So purposed, so effected; At the inn Assigned, I found her hidden:— O that sin Should bear what she bore when I entered in! Her heavy lids grew laden With despairs, Her lips made soundless movements Unawares, While I peered at the chamber hired as theirs. And as beside its doorway, Deadly hued, One inside, one withoutside We two stood, He came—my husband—as she knew he would. No pleasurable triumph Was that sight! The ghastly disappointment Broke them quite. What love was theirs, to move them with such might! “Madam, forgive me!” said she, Sorrow bent, “A child—I soon shall bear him . . . Yes—I meant To tell you—that he won me ere he went.” Then, as it were, within me Something snapped, As if my soul had largened: Conscience-capped, I saw myself the snarer—them the trapped. “My hate dies, and I promise, Grace-beguiled,” I said, “to care for you, be Reconciled; And cherish, and take interest in the child.” Without more words I pressed him Through the door Within which she stood, powerless To say more, And closed it on them, and downstairward bore. “He joins his wife—my sister,” I, below, Remarked in going—lightly— Even as though All had come right, and we had arranged it so . . . As I, my road retracing, Left them free, The night alone embracing Childless me, I held I had not stirred God wrothfully. THE ROMAN ROAD THE Roman Road runs straight and bare As the pale parting-line in hair Across the heath. And thoughtful men Contrast its days of Now and Then, And delve, and measure, and compare; Visioning on the vacant air Helmed legionaries, who proudly rear The Eagle, as they pace again The Roman Road. But no tall brass-helmed legionnaire Haunts it for me. Uprises there A mother’s form upon my ken, Guiding my infant steps, as when We walked that ancient thoroughfare, The Roman Road. THE VAMPIRINE FAIR GILBERT had sailed to India’s shore, And I was all alone: My lord came in at my open door And said, “O fairest one!” He leant upon the slant bureau, And sighed, “I am sick for thee!” “My lord,” said I, “pray speak not so, Since wedded wife I be.”