"Then the two men went back and left me there, With all my part to do. It was an hour Or more before the time when my poor dupe Had fixed to meet me. Wandering thus alone Through the old streets, seeing the common sights Of every day, the innocent child-faces Homing from school, so like my little ones, I seemed to lose all count of time. At length, Because it was the Ascension Feast, there came A waft of music from the open doors Of a near church, and, entering in, I found The incensed air, all I remembered well-- The lights, the soaring chants, the kneeling crowds, When I believed and knelt. They seemed to soothe My half bewildered fancy, and I thought-- What if a woman, who mayhap had sinned But lightly, wishing to repair her wrong, And bound thereby to some dark daring deed Of peril, should come here, and kneel awhile, And ask a blessing for the deed, of her Who is Heaven's Queen and knows our weaknesses Being herself a woman! So I knelt In worship, and the soaring voices clear And the dim heights and worship-laden air Filled me with comfort for my soul, and nerved My failing heart, and winged time's lagging flight, Till lo the hour was come when I should go To meet him for the last time.
"When we left The city far behind, the sweet May night Was falling on the quiet village street; There was a scent of hawthorn on the air As we passed on with feint of loving words,-- Passed slow like lovers to the appointed place, Passed to the place of punishment and doom.
"But when we reached the darkling avenue Of sycamores, which to the silent house Led through a palpable gloom, I felt him shudder With some blind vague presentiment of ill, And he would go no further; but I clung Around him close, laughed all his fear to scorn, Whispered words in his ear, and step by step, My soul on reparation being set, Drew him reluctant to the fated door Where lay my spouse in ambush, and swift death.
"I think I hear the dreadful noise of the key, Turning within the disused lock, the hall Breathing a false desertion, the loud sound Of both our footsteps echoing through the house. I could not choose but tremble. Yet I knew 'Twas but a foolish weakness. Then I struck A match, and in the burst of sudden light I saw the ruddy cheek grown ashy pale, And as he doffed his hat, I marked the curls On his white forehead, and the boyish grace Which hung around him still, and almost felt Compassion. Then the darkness came again, And hid him, and I groped to find his hand, Clutched it with mine, and led him to the door.