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Two days, all sad with lonely wind and rain,
Went sobbing by, repeating o’er and o’er
The miserere, desolate and drear,
Which every human heart must sometime hear.
Pain is but little varied. Its refrain,
Whate’er the words are, is for aye the same.
The third day brought a change, for with it came
Not only sunny smiles to Nature’s face,
But Roy, our Roy came back to us. Once more
We looked into his laughing, handsome eyes,
Which, while they gave Aunt Ruth a glad surprise
In no way puzzled her, for one glance told
What each succeeding one confirmed, that he
Who bent above her with the lissome grace
Of his fine form, though grown so tall, could be
No other than the Roy Montaine of old.

It was a sweet reunion, and he brought
So much of sunshine with him that I caught,
Just from his smile alone, enough of gladness
To make my heart forget a time its sadness.
We talked together of the dear old days:
Leaving the present, with its depths and heights
Of life’s maturer sorrows and delights,
I turned back to my childhood’s level land,
And Roy and I, dear playmates, hand in hand,
Wandered in mem’ry through the olden ways.

It was the second evening of his coming.
Helen was playing dreamily, and humming
Some wordless melody of white-souled thought,
While Roy and I sat by the open door,
Re-living childish incidents of yore.
My eyes were glowing, and my cheeks were hot
With warm young blood; excitement, joy, or pain
Alike would send swift coursing through each vein.
Roy, always eloquent, was waxing fine,
And bringing vividly before my gaze
Some old adventure of those halcyon days,
When suddenly, in pauses of the talk,
I heard a well-known step upon the walk,
And looked up quickly to meet full in mine
The eyes of Vivian Dangerfield. A flash
Shot from their depths:- a sudden blaze of light
Like that swift followed by the thunder’s crash,
Which said, “Suspicion is confirmed by sight,”
As they fell on the pleasant doorway scene.
Then o’er his clear-cut face a cold, white look
Crept, like the pallid moonlight o’er a brook,
And, with a slight, proud bending of the head,
He stepped toward us haughtily, and said:
“Please pardon my intrusion, Miss Maurine,
I called to ask Miss Trevor for a book
She spoke of lending me; nay, sit you still,
And I, by grant of your permission, will
Pass by to where I hear her playing.”
“Stay,”
I said, “one moment, Vivian, if you please;”
And suddenly bereft of all my ease,
And scarcely knowing what to do or say,
Confused as any schoolgirl, I arose,
And some way made each to the other known.
They bowed, shook hands, then Vivian turned away
And sought out Helen, leaving us alone.

“One of Miss Trevor’s or of Maurine’s beaux?
Which may he be, who cometh like a prince
With haughty bearing and an eagle eye?”
Roy queried, laughing; and I answered, “Since
You saw him pass me for Miss Trevor’s side,
I leave your own good judgment to reply.”

And straightway caused the tide of talk to glide
In other channels, striving to dispel
The sudden gloom that o’er my spirit fell.

We mortals are such hypocrites at best!
When Conscience tries our courage with a test,
And points to some steep pathway, we set out
Boldly, denying any fear or doubt;
But pause before the first rock in the way,
And, looking back, with tears, at Conscience, say:
“We are so sad, dear Conscience! for we would
Most gladly do what to thee seemeth good;
But lo! this rock! we cannot climb it, so
Thou must point out some other way to go.”
Yet secretly we are rejoicing: and,
When right before our faces, as we stand
In seeming grief, the rock is cleft in twain,
Leaving the pathway clear, we shrink in pain,
And, loth to go, by every act reveal
What we so tried from Conscience to conceal.