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Rh ‘Not see the stars?’ ‘’Tis worse still, not to see To find your hand, although we’re parting, dear. A moment let me hold it, ere we part: And understand my last words—these at last! I would not have you thinking, when I’m gone, That Romney dared to hanker for your love, In thought or vision, if attainable, (Which certainly for me it never was) And wish to use it for a dog to-day, To help the blind man stumbling. God forbid! And now I know he held you in his palm, And kept you open-eyed to all my faults, To save you at last from such a dreary end. Believe me, dear, that if I had known, like Him, What loss was coming on me, I had done As well in this as He has.—Farewell, you, Who are still my light,—farewell! How late it is: I know that, now: you’ve been too patient, sweet. I will but blow my whistle toward the lane, And some one comes. . the same who brought me here. Get in—Good night.’ ‘A moment. Heavenly Christ! A moment. Speak once, Romney. ’Tis not true. I hold your hands, I look into your face— You see me?’ ‘No more than the blessed stars. Be blessed too, Aurora. Ah, my sweet, You tremble. Tender-hearted! Do you mind Of yore, dear, how you used to cheat old John,