THE Spring was over, and Summer far advanced,
Lee spent many a hidden week in town,
Days long and enchanted, and nights entranced,
But one thought would not down:
"Is he content with this snatched and broken life?"
She thought, "when we might be free?
He cannot love that dowdy middle-aged wife.
Does he really love me?"
She was not burnt by jealousy sudden and hot,
But poisoned and chilled that he would not break
A meagre tie to a wife she knew he could not
Love, - yet would not forsake.
One night at her window, looking over the Park,
With his strong hand on her shoulder prest,
And a thunder-cloud rolling up out of the dark,
Rolling out of the West,
Suddenly she heard herself quoting Macbeth:
" 'To be thus is nothing, but to be safely thus.' "
He answered after a pause on a long-drawn breath:
"Safety is not for us."