III.

I.

The House is all deserted, In the dim evening gloom, Only one figure passes Slowly from room to room; And, pausing at each doorway, Seems gathering up again Within her heart the relics Of bygone joy and pain.

II.

There is an earnest longing In those who onward gaze, Looking with weary patience Towards the coming days. There is a deeper longing, More sad, more strong, more keen: Those know it who look backward, And yearn for what has been.

III.

At every hearth she pauses, Touches each well-known chair; Gazes from every window, Lingers on every stair. What have these months brought Alice Now one more year is past? This Christmas Eve shall tell us, The third one and the last.

IV.

The wilful, wayward Dora, In those first weeks of grief, Could seek and find in Alice Strength, soothing, and relief; And Alice--last sad comfort True woman-heart can take - Had something still to suffer And bear for Herbert's sake.

V.

Spring, with her western breezes, From Indian islands bore To Alice news that Leonard Would seek his home once more. What was it--joy, or

sorrow? What were they--hopes, or fears? That flushed her cheeks with crimson, And filled her eyes with tears?

VI.

He came. And who so kindly Could ask and hear her tell Herbert's last hours; for Leonard Had known and loved him well. Daily he came; and Alice, Poor weary heart, at length, Weighed down by others' weakness, Could lean upon his strength.

VII.

Yet not the voice of Leonard Could her true care beguile, That turned to watch, rejoicing Dora's reviving smile. So, from that little household The worst gloom passed away, The one bright hour of evening Lit up the livelong day.

VIII.

Days passed. The golden summer In sudden heat bore down Its blue, bright, glowing sweetness Upon the scorching town. And sighs and sounds of country Came in the warm soft tune Sung by the honeyed breezes Borne on the wings of June.

IX.

One twilight hour, but earlier Than usual, Alice thought She knew the fresh sweet fragrance Of flowers that Leonard brought; Through opened doors and windows It stole up through the gloom, And with appealing sweetness Drew Alice from her room.

X.

Yes, he was there; and pausing Just near the opened door, To check her heart's quick beating, She heard--and paused still more - His low voice--

Dora's answers - His pleading--Yes, she knew The tone--the words--the accents: She once had heard them too.

XI.

"Would Alice blame her?" Leonard's Low, tender answer came; - "Alice was far too noble To think or dream of blame." "And was he sure he loved her?" "Yes, with the one love given Once in a lifetime only, With one soul and one heaven!"

XII.

Then came a plaintive murmur, - "Dora had once been told That he and Alice"--"Dearest, Alice is far too cold To love; and I, my Dora, If once I fancied so, It was a brief delusion, And over,--long ago."

XIII.

Between the Past and Present, On that bleak moment's height, She stood. As some lost traveller By a quick flash of light Seeing a gulf before him, With dizzy, sick despair, Reels backward, but to find it A deeper chasm there.

XIV.

The twilight grew still darker, The fragrant flowers more sweet, The stars shone out in heaven, The lamps gleamed down the street; And hours passed in dreaming Over their new-found fate, Ere they could think of wondering Why Alice was so late.

XV.

She came, and calmly listened; In vain they strove to trace If Herbert's memory shadowed In grief upon her face. No blame, no wonder showed there, No feeling could be told; Her voice was not less steady, Her manner

not more cold.

XVI.

They could not hear the anguish That broke in words of pain Through the calm summer midnight, - "My Herbert--mine again!" Yes, they have once been parted, But this day shall restore The long lost one: she claims him: "My Herbert--mine once more!"

XVII.

Now Christmas Eve returning, Saw Alice stand beside The altar, greeting Dora, Again a smiling bride; And now the gloomy evening Sees Alice pale and worn, Leaving the house for ever, To wander out forlorn.

XVIII.

Forlorn--nay, not so. Anguish Shall do its work at length; Her soul, passed through the fire, Shall gain still purer strength. Somewhere there waits for Alice An earnest noble part; And, meanwhile God is with her, - God, and her own true heart!