THE GUERILLA CHIEF.
145
And fill his spirit with a calm delight;
But with a quick though noiseless step, as one
Who fears the very echo of that step
May raise a spectre. When he reached the fount
He sat down by its side, and turned to gaze
Upon the cottage: from his brow the sweat
Poured down like summer rain; there came no sound
From his white lips, but you might hear his heart
Beating in the deep silence. But at length
A voice came to his sorrow:—"Never—never
"Shall I look on their face again! Farewell!
"I cannot bear that word's reproach, nor look
"On pale lips breathing blessings which the tears
"Belie in speaking! I have blighted all—
"All—all their hopes, and my own happiness!"
