Page:Ethel Churchill 2.pdf/119

Rh

The altar, 'tis of death! for there are laid The sacrifice of all youth's sweetest hopes. It is a dreadful thing for woman's lip To swear the heart away; yet know that heart Annuls the vow while speaking, and shrinks back From the dark future that it dares not face. The service read above the open grave Is far less terrible than that which seals The vow that binds the victim, not the will; For in the grave is rest.

—how soon it appeared to come!—the day appointed for Miss Churchill's marriage arrived. With a faint shudder, she looked from her window. The whole garden was bathed in sunshine; a light wind stirred the branches, which seemed filled with singing birds: she turned away; the light and the music were painful to her. Who has not felt this exaggeration of the sick heart, which