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I saw that hour, the way made plain, to do
With scarce an effort what had seemed a strife
That would require the strength of my whole life.

Women have quick perceptions, and I knew
That Vivian’s heart was full of jealous pain,
Suspecting–nay, BELIEVING–Roy Montaine
To be my lover. First my altered mien –
And next the letter–then the doorway scene –
My flushed face gazing in the one above
That bent so near me, and my strange confusion
When Vivian came all led to one conclusion:
That I had but been playing with his love,
As women sometimes cruelly do play
With hearts when their true lovers are away.

There could be nothing easier than just
To let him linger on in this belief
Till hourly-fed Suspicion and Distrust
Should turn to scorn and anger all his grief.
Compared with me, so doubly sweet and pure
Would Helen seem, my purpose would be sure
And certain of completion in the end.
But now, the way was made so straight and clear,
My coward heart shrank back in guilty fear,
Till Conscience whispered with her “still small voice,”
“The precious time is passing–make thy choice –
Resign thy love, or slay thy trusting friend.”

The growing moon, watched by the myriad eyes
Of countless stars, went sailing through the skies,
Like some young prince, rising to rule a nation,
To whom all eyes are turned in expectation.
A woman who possesses tact and art
And strength of will can take the hand of doom,
And walk on, smiling sweetly as she goes,
With rosy lips, and rounded cheeks of bloom,
Cheating a loud-tongued world that never knows
The pain and sorrow of her hidden heart.
And so I joined in Roy’s bright changing chat;
Answered his sallies–talked of this and that,
My brow unruffled as the calm, still wave
That tells not of the wrecked ship, and the grave
Beneath its surface.
Then we heard, ere long,
The sound of Helen’s gentle voice in song,
And, rising, entered where the subtle power
Of Vivian’s eyes, forgiving while accusing,
Finding me weak, had won me, in that hour;
But Roy, always polite and debonair
Where ladies were, now hung about my chair
With nameless delicate attentions, using
That air devotional, and those small arts
Acquaintance with society imparts
To men gallant by nature.
‘Twas my sex
And not myself he bowed to. Had my place
Been filled that evening by a dowager
Twice his own age, he would have given her
The same attentions. But they served to vex
Whatever hope in Vivian’s heart remained.
The cold, white look crept back upon his face,
Which told how deeply he was hurt and pained.

Little by little all things had conspired
To bring events I dreaded, yet desired.
We were in constant intercourse: walks, rides,
Picnics and sails, filled weeks of golden weather,
And almost hourly we were thrown together.
No words were spoken of rebuke or scorn:
Good friends we seemed. But as a gulf divides
This land and that, though lying side by side,
So rolled a gulf between us–deep and wide –
The gulf of doubt, which widened slowly morn
And noon and night.

Free and informal were
These picnics and excursions. Yet, although
Helen and I would sometimes choose to go
Without our escorts, leaving them quite free,
It happened alway Roy would seek out me
Ere passed the day, while Vivian walked with her.
I had no thought of flirting. Roy was just
Like some dear brother, and I quite forgot
The kinship was so distant it was not
Safe to rely upon in perfect trust,
Without reserve or caution. Many a time,
When there was some steep mountain-side to climb
And I grew weary, he would say, “Maurine,
Come rest you here.” And I would go and lean
My head upon his shoulder, or would stand
And let him hold in his my willing hand,
The while he stroked it gently with his own.
Or I would let him clasp me with his arm,
Nor entertained a thought of any harm,
Nor once supposed but Vivian was alone
In his suspicions. But ere long the truth
I learned in consternation! both Aunt Ruth
And Helen honestly, in faith, believed
That Roy and I were lovers.