"It was a plot so dexterously framed, All the precautions and contrivances Were with such craft foreplanned; the perjuries Were all so well adjusted; my pure life Was made to seem so black; the witnesses Were so well drilled, so perfect in their parts,-- In short, it was a work of art so thorough, I did not marvel at the Court's decision, Which was, for her,--divorce and alimony; For me,--no freedom, since no privilege Of marrying again. Such the decree!"
"I'm glad you spurned it as you did!" cried Linda, While her cheeks flushed, and hot, indignant tears, Responded to her anger. Then she kissed Her father on each cheek, and tenderly Embraced her mother too; and they, the while, With a slight moisture in their smiling eyes, Exchanged a nod. Then Percival to Linda: "Why, what an utter rebel you would be, You little champion of the higher law! Sit down, and hear me out."
"If such their justice," Cried Linda, irrepressible and panting, "Who would not spurn it, and hurl back defiance To all the Justice Shallows on the Bench-- To them and their decrees!"
"My little girl," The father said, "the heart's impulsive choice May guide us safely when the act must be Born of the instant, but let Reason rule When Reason may. For some twelve years, I lived A wandering life in Europe; not so crushed By my most harsh experience but I Could find, in study and in change of scene, How much of relish life has for the mind As well as the affections; still I felt Mine was a nature in which these must play No secondary part; and so the void Enlarged as age drew nearer; and at forty A weariness of life came over me, And I was sick at heart; for many a joy Had lost the charm that made it joy. I took A house in London, all for solitude, And there got what you may not find in Egypt, Or on Mont Blanc.
"One day as I was crossing An obscure street, I saw a crowd of workmen Gathered around a man upon the ground: A rafter from a half-built house had fallen, And he was badly injured. Seeing none To act with promptness in the case, I hailed A cab, and had him driven to my house. Finding he was a fellow-countryman, I gave him one of my spare rooms, and sent For the best surgeon near. His report was, The wound itself was nothing serious, But there was over-action of the brain, Quite independent, which might lead to danger, Unless reduced in season; and the patient Should have the best of watching and attendance, And not be left to brood on any trouble, But be kept cheerful. Then with some directions For diet, sedatives, and laxatives, The doctor bowed, received his fee, and left. My guest lay sad and silent for a while, Then turned to me and said: 'My name is Kenrick; I'm from Chicago--was a broker there. A month ago my wife eloped from me; And her companion, as you may surmise, Was one I had befriended--raised from nothing. I'm here upon their track."