Stories in Verse | Page 8

prayed, that she might still remain.
At this he told her how the
lands were held,
And if she went not he must starve or beg.
"Then
let the lands be sold, and sold again;
If his, they are not yours. What
good will come
If I do go to him? then all is his.
Last night I gave
my hand to Karagwe.
O, it will break my heart to go away."
Lightly
his mustache twirled Dalton Earl.
At dusk, in tears to Karagwe's low roof,
Ruth passed, and uttered,
with wild, angry words,
The hard conditions that had been imposed.

She wept; he comforted: "There yet was hope:
There was a Hero,
in a Book he read,
Who said that those who suffered would be
blessed."
Then for the last, toward the planter's house
They walked,
and o'er them saw the spider moon
Weaving the storm upon its web
of cloud.
XII.
But Karagwe, when once he turned again,
Smote wildly his infuriated
breast.
His fierce eyes flashed; he thirsted for revenge.
Then came a
calmer mood, and far away
Sped the expelled thoughts like
shuddering gusts of wind.
He wept that this injustice should be done;

Yet knew that in God's hand the scale was set,
And though His
poor, down-trodden, waited long,

They waited surely, for His hour
would come.

XIII.
The night passed, and the troublous morning broke,
And Ruth was
sold away from him she loved.
The dark day died, and when the moon arose,
The foremost torch in
day's long funeral train,
Karagwe went down toward the river's brink,

Thinking of what had been. He turned and saw
His enemy walk
calmly up the road.
Quickly behind him came another form;
And in
a jeweled hand, half raised to strike,
A poniard glistened. Then the
negro rose,
And caught the weapon from the assassin's grasp,
And
stood before the planter, Dalton Earl!
"Forgive," he said,
"Forgiveness is a slave;
She has no pride, she never does an ill;
For
she is meekly great, and nobly good,
And patient, though the lash of
anger smites."
Rebuked, the master stood before the slave,
And Richard Wain
passed on, nor knew his life
Was saved by one that he had that day
wronged.
Thus Dalton Earl: "I thank you for this act,
Thwarting a
bad intent. Yet I had cause
To take the sullied life of Richard Wain.

He drugged the wine he gave me at his house,
And knowing that I
had with me the deed
And title of my lands, begged me to play,

And while I played, stake all upon a card.
He won, and I have hated
from that hour."
XIV.
Like some great thought that finds release at last,
The happy Spring
in buds expression found.
Coralline Earl grew rich in every grace.
Her eyes' blue heavens were
serene with soul,
And goodness sunned her face from light within.

Her hands were soft with kindness. On her brow
Shone hope, more
lovely than a ruby star.

As in the ancient days sat Mordecai
At the king's gate, and waited for
the hour,
When, clothed with pomp, he too should take his seat

Among the mighty nobles of the land,
So at the gateway of her palace
heart,
Love tarried, that he too might enter in,
And rule the
kingdom of another life.
Not long the waiting; for when Stanley Thane
Came from his
northern home with Dalton Earl,
And on the terrace steps met
Coralline,
Love took the sceptre that his waiting won.
Well worthy to be loved was Stanley Thane.
He could not claim a
titled ancestor,
Nor boast of any blood but Puritan.
His father was
successful on exchange,
Reaped fortune by a rise in merchandise,

Now sent his partner son with Dalton Earl
Toward the claspless
girdle of the South.
And Stanley Thane was all that makes true men;

High thought, high purpose, loving right the best,
His mind was
clear and fresh as air at morn.
He kissed the rosy tips of Coralline's hand,
And that day galloped
with her through the town,
And wandered with her down magnolia
lanes,
And watched, below the spray-woofed fall, the brook,
That
seemed a maid, who, sitting at a loom,
Wove misty lace to decorate
the rocks.
XV.
Long o'er his writings hidden in the tree
Pondered the slave, and
found at last their worth.
Must he return them? To whom did they
belong?
If he should give them back to Dalton Earl
Unjustly,
Richard Wain might claim them still.
He chose to keep there folded
round the Book,
Hid in the secret hollow of the tree.
He thought of Ruth as one who was at rest,
And wept for her as
though she was no more,
And sometimes gathered flowers, and
placed them where
He knew she soon would pass, as tenderly
As

though he laid them down upon her grave.
XVI.
Once in the twilight, as the shadows fell,
A skiff shot from the
under-reaching shore,
And Stanley Thane and Coralline sailed down

The languid waters, 'neath the dappled moon.
They spoke of giant
wars that yet might be
To drive the dragon Slavery from the land.

Coralline smoothed the evils it had wrought.
Stanley, who could not
see a wrong excused,
Said, "God is just; he knows nor white nor
black.
If war must come, each