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"But we're too old,—its all no use,
"We'll take no such false weak excuse."

No more they said, but forced him down
The sloping fields, and to the town.
Stunned with surprise—no more he tried
To free himself, but walked beside.
And many bitter thoughts then stole
Across his erst untroubled soul.
Ideas in confusion piled,
A chaosed heap—dark, deep and wild.
He nothing either saw or heard,
Nor seemed to think—nor spoke a word.
Till in a dark cold cell he lay,
Awaiting the return of day.
Then came the thought of Norah White—
His home—his mother; and the night
Seemed ten-fold long. For them he fears—
Presses his scorched brow, and bursts in tears.

'Twas midnight!—just the hour of one!
And Collin's mother sat alone.
Oft looked she forth with anxious eye;
'Twas useless,—Collin came not nigh.
When morning's beams around her crept,
She still her lonely vigil kept.
The mother's heart was wrung with fears
She had not felt before for years,
Till trembling—fearful—forth she went,
And learned full soon the sad event.
"Impossible!" she cried, " my son!—
"My innocent—my only one."