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And then I told him all my thoughts; and he
Listened, with kisses for his comments, till
My tale was finished. Then he said, ‘I will
Be frank with you, my darling, from the start,
And hide no secret from you in my heart.
I love you, Helen, but you are not first
To rouse that love to being. Ere we met
I loved a woman madly–never dreaming
She was not all in truth she was in seeming.
Enough! she proved to be that thing accursed
Of God and man–a wily vain coquette.
I hate myself for having loved her. Yet
So much my heart spent on her, it must give
A love less ardent, and less prodigal,
Albeit just as tender and as true –
A milder, yet a faithful love to you.
Just as some evil fortune might befall
A man’s great riches, causing him to live
In some low cot, all unpretending, still
As much his home–as much his loved retreat,
As was the princely palace on the hill,
E’en so I give you all that’s left, my sweet!
Of my heart-fortune.’

‘That were more to me,’
I made swift smiling answer, ‘than to be
The worshipped consort of a king.’ And so
Our faith was pledged. But Vivian would not go
Until I vowed to wed him New Year day.
And I am sad because you go away
Before that time. I shall not feel half wed
Without you here. Postpone your trip and stay,
And be my bridesmaid.”

“Nay, I cannot, dear!
‘Twould disarrange our plans for half a year.
I’ll be in Europe New Year day,” I said,
“And send congratulations by the cable.”
And from my soul thanked Providence for sparing
The pain, to me, of sharing in, and wearing,
The festal garments of a wedding scene,
While all my heart was hung with sorrow’s sable.
Forgetting for a season, that between
The cup and lip lies many a chance of loss,
I lived in my near future, confident
All would be as I planned it; and, across
The briny waste of waters, I should find
Some balm and comfort for my troubled mind.
The sad Fall days, like maidens auburn-tressed
And amber-eyed, in purple garments dressed,
Passed by, and dropped their tears upon the tomb
Of fair Queen Summer, buried in her bloom.

Roy left us for a time, and Helen went
To make the nuptial preparations. Then,
Aunt Ruth complained one day of feeling ill:
Her veins ran red with fever; and the skill
Of two physicians could not stem the tide.
The house, that rang so late with laugh and jest,
Grew ghostly with low whispered sounds: and when
The Autumn day, that I had thought to be
Bounding upon the billows of the sea,
Came sobbing in, it found me pale and worn,
Striving to keep away that unloved guest
Who comes unbidden, making hearts to mourn.
Through all the anxious weeks I watched beside
The suff’rer’s couch, Roy was my help and stay;
Others were kind, but he alone each day
Brought strength and comfort, by his cheerful face,
And hopeful words, that fell in that sad place
Like rays of light upon a darkened way.
November passed; and Winter, crisp and chill,
In robes of ermine walked on plain and hill.
Returning light and life dispelled the gloom
That cheated Death had brought us from the tomb.
Aunt Ruth was saved, and slowly getting better –
Was dressed each day, and walked about the room.
Then came one morning in the Eastern mail,
A little white-winged birdling of a letter.
I broke the seal and read,