 | Denzil place |  |
There on a scrap of paper, partly torn,
She read these words, in Geoffrey Denzil's hand:
“At last. It almost seems too hard to bear—
“But so it is, and I must go from hence.”
She look'd, and on the scarce used blotting-book
Perceiv'd some straggling and uncertain lines
Illegible, (if she had tried to read,)
Save where her timid, hesitating eye
Espied the curling crescent of a “C,”
And knew her name had once been blotted there.
Why did he go away? What was so “hard”—
“Almost too hard to bear” (she thought,) “for him?”
But whilst she mused, her self-accusing heart
Dared not delude itself with such a doubt.
A hundred trivial unimportant things
Flash'd to her memory, in each of which
She seem'd to read a hidden meaning now,—
She knew, and all her aching lonely heart
Went out to Geoffrey Denzil over-sea.
She read these words, in Geoffrey Denzil's hand:
“At last. It almost seems too hard to bear—
“But so it is, and I must go from hence.”
She look'd, and on the scarce used blotting-book
Perceiv'd some straggling and uncertain lines
Illegible, (if she had tried to read,)
Save where her timid, hesitating eye
Espied the curling crescent of a “C,”
And knew her name had once been blotted there.
Why did he go away? What was so “hard”—
“Almost too hard to bear” (she thought,) “for him?”
But whilst she mused, her self-accusing heart
Dared not delude itself with such a doubt.
A hundred trivial unimportant things
Flash'd to her memory, in each of which
She seem'd to read a hidden meaning now,—
She knew, and all her aching lonely heart
Went out to Geoffrey Denzil over-sea.
| Denzil place | |