On the Landing.
90
She trembled, a sudden, rich flush overspread
The soft oval cheek, then as suddenly fled.
She shrank into shadow, perhaps he would pass,
He might not have seen her—perhaps he———alas!
His strong stride was leaping the stairs at a bound,
She felt his glance on her, she did not turn round.
She pulled her soft bernouse close up round her face,
He surely would pass such a shadowy place!
But no, he was standing beside her; a pause,
And silence. She felt as one sinking, because
The firm earth was slipping away from her feet,
In the hush and the stillness she heard her heart beat;
She cried, with a voiceless but passionate prayer,
For help and deliverance, the soft, languid air
Came back to her empty, her desperate need
Shone out in the eyes she had lifted to plead,
They met his impassioned and masterful glance
That silenced her conscience as if by a trance.
His arm was about her, he bent his head low
"With a gesture she knew—ay—and loved long ago;
And his voice was a spell. "Come, sweetheart!" Ah, me!
The slender hands made one attempt to be free,
The sweet, grey eyes lifted protested in vain—
Poor, sweet eyes! that cannot leave his eyes again.
The soft oval cheek, then as suddenly fled.
She shrank into shadow, perhaps he would pass,
He might not have seen her—perhaps he———alas!
His strong stride was leaping the stairs at a bound,
She felt his glance on her, she did not turn round.
She pulled her soft bernouse close up round her face,
He surely would pass such a shadowy place!
But no, he was standing beside her; a pause,
And silence. She felt as one sinking, because
The firm earth was slipping away from her feet,
In the hush and the stillness she heard her heart beat;
She cried, with a voiceless but passionate prayer,
For help and deliverance, the soft, languid air
Came back to her empty, her desperate need
Shone out in the eyes she had lifted to plead,
They met his impassioned and masterful glance
That silenced her conscience as if by a trance.
His arm was about her, he bent his head low
"With a gesture she knew—ay—and loved long ago;
And his voice was a spell. "Come, sweetheart!" Ah, me!
The slender hands made one attempt to be free,
The sweet, grey eyes lifted protested in vain—
Poor, sweet eyes! that cannot leave his eyes again.
