Page:Maurine and Other Poems (1910).pdf/41

 And certain of completion in the end. But now, the way was made so straight and clear, My coward heart shrank back in guilty fear, Till Conscience whispered with her “still small voice,” “The precious time is passing—make thy choice— Resign thy love, or slay thy trusting friend.”

The growing moon, watched by the myriad eyes Of countless stars, went sailing through the skies, Like some young prince, rising to rule a nation, To whom all eyes are turned in expectation. A woman who possesses tact and art And strength of will can take the hand of doom, And walk on, smiling sweetly as she goes, With rosy lips, and rounded cheeks of bloom, Cheating a loud-tongued world that never knows The pain and sorrow of her hidden heart. And so I joined in Roy’s bright changing chat; Answered his sallies—talked of this and that, My brow unruffled as the calm, still wave That tells not of the wrecked ship, and the grave Beneath its surface. Then we heard, ere long, The sound of Helen’s gentle voice in song, And, rising, entered where the subtle power Of Vivian’s eyes, forgiving while accusing, Finding me weak, had won me, in that hour; But Roy, always polite and debonair Where ladies were, now hung about my chair With nameless delicate attentions, using That air devotional, and those small arts Acquaintance with society imparts To men gallant by nature. ’Twas my sex And not myself he bowed to. Had my place Been filled that evening by a dowager Twice his own age, he would have given her The same attentions. But they served to vex Whatever hope in Vivian’s heart remained. The cold, white look crept back upon his face, Which told how deeply he was hurt and pained.

Little by little all things had conspired To bring events I dreaded, yet desired. We were in constant intercourse: walks, rides, Picnics and sails, filled weeks of golden weather,