Harry | Page 8

pleasantly slid away,
But when Mr.
Devize suggested cards,
I laughingly told him I could not play.

The cards are produced; the men begin;
I sit by Harry and watch his
hand;
I am very eager that he should win,
And when he does so, I
feel very grand.
'Twas all very well for once you see;
Its novelty made it a thing to
praise;
It was quite a joke for a girl like me,
Living with men and
observing their ways.
But when Jack had dined again and again,
And with others enjoy'd
the cards and fare.
With a little shiver that felt like pain,
I would say
'good night' and leave Harry there.
Cool is the chamber and pleasant the light,
Tranquil and innocent,
tender and calm;
Sweet are the thoughts that approach us at night,

Sweet as the breeze with its perfumy balm.
And if I am reading the
happy Word,
Or saying my prayers by the taper's glow,
I wish that
my Harry had this preferr'd
To the painted toys and the men below.

'I wish that my Harry had this preferr'd'--
But ought I to wish it, if he
does not?
Has my foolish heart from its duty err'd,
And the soft
compliance of love forgot?
There can be no question 'twixt wrong and right;
And surely we all
can be brave and strong;
Yet I seem a little perplex'd to-night,
And
hardly to know what is right or wrong.
I'm very young to be anyone's wife,
And to know about serious things
like these--
Must my little hand touch my husband's life
With a
thought of something more than to please?
What shall I do with this ghost of a care
That makes my silly heart
flutter and sink?
I will first kneel down and will say a prayer,
And
then I'll ask Harry what I should think!

Harry stalk'd into my room in a rage--
'Hilton and Wilton have clear'd
me out quite;
A run of ill luck at every stage--
Fifty pounds lost
since you left us to-night!
I'll have my revenge on the rogues I vow!'

Marks of strange anger disfigure his face,
A dry parch'd lip and a
thundery brow,
And a sharp bright eye that has lost its grace.
So a lov'd little hand comes smoothing down--
Wandering kisses can
anger eclipse;
The beautiful forehead has ceased to frown,
And
sweet is the kiss I find on my lips.
'Ah, dearest,' I whisper, 'mourn not for this,
On a summer day with a
heap of flowers;
This cannot be sorrow, or if it is,
It is a sorrow that
cannot be ours.'
All the strange passion had vanish'd, I ween;
The Harry I knew had
come back again;
And on his sweet face I had never seen
A sweeter
smile than illumin'd it then.
With smiles he caress'd me: 'you little thing--
You dear little thing,'
he tenderly said;
'We have banish'd you by the cards we bring;
Let
us banish cards and have you instead.'
I clapp'd my hands, and my heart beat light,
As I softly whisper'd,
'Indeed you may,
For I'm certain, Harry, it is not RIGHT
To spend
so much money and time at play.'
He gave me an odd little look askance,
And mutter'd, 'A man must do
something though;'
I answer'd the look with a loving glance,
'But
the something need not be cards, you know;
There is plenty to do
before we die,
That may suit a gay and a careless mood;
We are so
happy, Harry, you and I,
That I think we ought to be ever so good.

Playing at cards for money, I'm clear,
Is an alien thing in beautiful
lives'--
He grumbled, 'The fellows will think me queer;
But then the
poor fellows have not got wives.'
We talk'd the matter delightfully out;

Our words were earnest and bright and free;

We twisted it round,

we turn'd it about,
And we both agreed that it should not be.
'You are my angel,' he cried, with a kiss;
'I fear lest your wings are
spreading to fly,'
And his angel I ought to be, in this,
For 'tis he who
is tempted, and not I.
O, women have no temptations at all;
They have only to keep their
white lives white;
But men are so tempted, that men must fall--
O
wonderful Harry who stands upright!

Again the sweet evenings we had at first:
He reads, and I work; or we
play and sing;
And looks and words that, if life were accurs'd,
In
memory only, would rapture bring.
Engagements of course will
sometimes arise;
But the joy is still in the coming back;
And
sometimes he dines with us (Jack Devize),
And sometimes my
husband dines out with Jack.
Under the cliff with its towering crest,
Where the wandering sea has
fill'd the space,
A sweet little village has made its nest,
A sort of
miniature watering place.
Scarcely a mile by the upper cliff way--
Further of course by the
beach-shaded road--
Little Bellhaven contentedly lay,
Easily
reached from our pleasant abode.
Therein a Church, and a place of Dissent,
A shop where we purchase
our sugar and shoes,
Therein a Library ladies frequent;
Therein a
club where the men read the news;
Also a chamber where, lit