The Story
of Saville
How she had panted to tell him! her heart had ached that a lie,
However so harmless and tacit a one, should sully their intercourse high,
That a gossamer slight as a thistle’s down should cross the cerulean sky—
There were wives, she knew, who smiled and sang, some sepulchre-secret untold—
She herself was a verier woman than such, nor cast in an Amazon-mold,
And now that he knew her trespass a weight from her bosom rolled!
Kyrle silent sat, but he reached his hand to the living gold of her hair,
Thinking how pure must the nature be, how inwardly white and fair,
That cowered at such a venial sin in uttermost shame and despair,—
Their bond, though of steel, had unriveted been; most perfectly had she known
They must travel their weary and several ways, walking forever alone,
If but to his spirit startled and proud a hint of the truth were blown,—
She had had wisdom and daring for both—Ay, she had been overwise!
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