"We still come as we used to do. We have got into the way. As you said, it reminds us of old times."
"Old times?" He stretched out his arms. "Oh, Dorothy," he murmured.
"You were not the only one," said Gale, gently.
"The only one?"
"To suffer."
"Did she suffer?"
"A little. It was soon over."
"Soon over!" repeated the Earl "Ah, yes, exactly. Did he feel it?" he asked, abruptly.
"We all felt it, We all loved her."
"You may have done so; you were able to. But the others, they are cold-blooded. How could they? They cannot feel."
"I don't know," said Gale, stroking his mustache.
"Ah, well," said the Earl, "we would better get back. Thanks for your kindness."
"I have wasted the last six months," he added, thoughtfully, as they turned round.
"How?"
"In trying to find out."
"To find out what?"
"What I should have known," said the Earl, laughing.
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WHEN WOFFINGTON SOLD WATERCRESS
WHEN Woffington sold watercress,
Crying her warings up and down
The narrow streets of Dublin town,
I wonder did no passer guess
The spirit in the dingy dress,
The heart beneath the tattered gown?
Did not the eyes' audacious brown
Speak Harry Wildair's recklessness—
Whispered no prescience of renown
When Woffington sold watercress?
Nay, blind we are as in those days
The folk of Dublin who went by;
This hour, it may be, you and I
Have passed upon our several ways
The little lass whom future praise
Will hail as some divinity.
To-morrow and we swell the cry;
To-day we pass, nor pause nor gaze;
They stayed you, Peggy, but to buy,
And blind we are as in those days.
Child, is it you will wear the bays,
You who will win the world's caress?
Nay, blind we are as in those days
When Woffington sold watercress.
