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And I will look my brother in the face, And say, Your son is happy,—pardon me. And now for the worst penance of my sin,— To tell my Bertha of her father's crime. Alas! to think that he who virtue taught, Who fill'd her heart with piety and truth, Should be the first to show temptation's strength; To prove that guilt could be within the soul, While the false words spoke moral loveliness.

But, oh! there needs not this.—

Hush! Hush I am impatient as a wearied man