Walter and William.

“ ’Twill be a wild rough night upon the Moor :1
                        
                        And hark !  though three miles off, the sullen roar2
                        
                        Of that deep-booming surge. God’s mercy keep3
                        
                        The wayfarer, and wanderer on the deep.4
                        
                        The moon’s but young—she’ll give no help to-night :5
                        
                        Look out, my boys !  if Beacon-head burns bright ;6
                        
                        And, lads !  take Carter Joe with ye, and see7
                        
                        All snug about the place ;  more ’specially8
                        
                        At the new Penfold—and dun Peggy, too,9
                        
                        Give her and her sick foal a passing view—10
                        
                        Old Mark away, I’ve lost my right-hand man ;11
                        
                        You must replace him.”—
                        Off the striplings ran,12
                        
                        Proud happy boys !  forth rushing in their haste,13
                        
                        Ere well the words their father’s lips had pass’d ;14
                        
                        The elder’s arm, with loving roughness, thrown15
                        
                        Round his young brother’s neck—the fair-hair’d one.16
                        
                        “ God bless the lads !  and keep them ever so,17
                        
                        Hand in hand brothers, wheresoe’er they go,”18
                        
                        Eyeing them tenderly, the father said19
                        
                        As the door closed upon them :  Then his head,20
                        
                        Sighing, let fall on his supporting palm,21
                        
                        And, like the pausing tempest, all was calm.22
                        Facing her husband, sate a Matron fair,23
                        
                        Plying her sempstress task. A shade of care24
                        
                        Darken’d her soft blue eyes, as to his face25
                        
                        (Drawn by that sigh) they wander’d, quick to trace26
                        
                        The unseen, by sympathy’s unerring sight—27
                        
                        Reading his heart’s thoughts by her own heart’s
                              light.28
                        
Ten years twice told had pass’d, since Helen Græme29
                        
                        For Walter Hay’s exchanged her virgin name.30
                        
                        Of life’s viscissitudes they’d had their share,31
                        
                        Sunshine and shade ;  yet in his eyes as fair,32
                        
                        And dearer far than the young blooming Bride33
                        
                        Was she, the long-tried partner ;  who espied34
                        
                        No change in him, but such as gave a cast35
                        
                        More tender to the love would time outlast.36
                        
                        They had rejoiced together at the birth37
                        
                        Of six fair infants :  Sorrowing, to the earth38
                        
                        (With mutual sorrow, but submissive heart)39
                        
                        Committed three. Hard trial ’twas to part40
                        
                        (Young parents !)  with their first-born bud of bliss ;41
                        
                        And they who follow’d !— with the last cold kiss42
                        
                        Their hearts seem’d breaking, that on each they press’d.43
                        
                        But He so will’d it  “ who doth all things best.”44
                        
                        Out of their sight they hid their early dead,45
                        
                        And wept together—and were comforted.46
                        
                        And of their loved ones, now a lovely three47
                        
                        Were left, that well a parent’s boast might be.48
                        
                        Those two bold, blithesome boys, of stature near,49
                        
                        (Their ages differing only by a year,)50
                        
                        Walter and William named in reminiscence dear,51
                        
                        And a small sister, like a green-hill Fay,52
                        
                        Younger by eight—a little Helen Hay,53
                        
                        The household darling. To her father’s ear,54
                        
                        ’Twas ever music that sweet name to hear.55
                        
                        And now she sate, as still as still could be,56
                        
                        Her little stool drawn close beside his knee
                               ;57
                        
                        Her paly ringlets so profusely shed,58
                        
                        In the warm hearth-glow gleaming golden red,59
                        
                        As o’er the book upon her lap she bent,60
                        
                        On Jack the Giant-killer’s feats intent.61
                        Fit subject for some limner’s skill had been62
                        
                        That quiet, tender-toned, heart-soothing scene,63
                        
                        All in fine keeping !  The old spacious room,64
                        
                        Half hall, half kitchen, dark’ning into gloom,65
                        
                        As it receded from that cavern vast—66
                        
                        The open hearth ;  whence blazing oak logs cast67
                        
                        Rich, ruddy beams on rafter, beam, and wall,68
                        
                        ’Twixt monstrous shadows that fantastic fall.69
                        
                        And all around, in picturesque array,70
                        
                        Hung rustic implements for use and play,71
                        
                        For manly sport and boyish holiday.72
                        
                        Basket, and net, and rifle, rod, and spear,73
                        
                        Coil’d lines, and weather-season’d fishing gear,74
                        
                        And bills and hedging gloves ;  and, modell’d neat,75
                        
                        A little schooner, ( Willy’s proudest feat,)76
                        
                        Matching a mimic plough, with graver thought77
                        
                        “ On improved principles,” by Walter wrought—78
                        
                        Proud folk the parents of those works, I wot !79
                        
                        And tatter’d straw hats, plaited once so white80
                        
                        And neat, in leisurely long winter night,81
                        
                        By the boy brothers ;  while their father read82
                        
                        From one of those brown volumes overhead,83
                        
                        (No mindless untaught churl was Walter Hay,)84
                        
                        Some pleasant theme, instructive, grave, or gay :85
                        
                        His list’ning household, men, and maids, and all,86
                        
                        Assembled round him in his rustic hall ;87
                        
                        Together closing the laborious day,88
                        
                        As in the good old time, the good old way.89
                        
                        
There stood a spinning-wheel, whose humming sound90
                        
                        Accompanied the reader’s voice, not
                              drown’d.91
                        
                        There hung a half-done cabbage-net ;  and there,92
                        
                        Nursing her kitten in the old stuff’d chair,93
                        
                        Purr’d a grave Tabby ;  while a faithful friend,94
                        
                        A worn-out Sheep-Dog, to his long life’s end95
                        
                        Fast hastening, slumber’d at his master’s feet.96
                        
                        It was a pleasant picture !— very sweet97
                        
                        To look upon, its beautiful repose—98
                        
                        One earthly scene, undimm’d by human woes.99
                        Alas !  was ever spot on earth so bless’d,100
                        
                        Where human hearts in perfect peace might rest ?101
                        
                        One bosom sorrow, one corroding thought,102
                        
                        (The dark thread with his woof of life enwrought,)103
                        
                        Help’d on the work of time with Walter Hay,104
                        
                        Stole half the brightness of his smile away,105
                        
                        And streak’d in manhood’s prime his dark curl’d locks with gray.106
                        
                        A hasty quarrel—an intemperate cup,107
                        
                        A hard word spoken when the blood was up,108
                        
                        A blow as madly dealt, but not in hate,109
                        
                        Repented soon and sorely, but too late—110
                        
                        Too late !— Ah !  simple words of solemn sense,111
                        
                        Avenging disregarded Providence !112
                        Remembrance of these things, and what ensued,113
                        
                        It was, that clouded oft his sunniest mood,114
                        
                        Casting a dark cold shadow o’er the life115
                        
                        Perhaps too prosperous else. His gentle wife116
                        
                        Whose wife-like tenderness could scarce descry117
                        
                        A fault in him she honour’d, oft would try118
                        
                        To pluck away the thorn he sternly press’d119
                        
                        (Severe in self-infliction) to his breast.120
                        
                        “ Not yours alone,” she soothingly would say,121
                        
                        “ The blame of what befell that luckless day ;122
                        
                        You had borne much, my husband !  well I know,123
                        
                        Much before anger overcame you so :124
                        
                        And both of you that night had made too free125
                        
                        (Alas !  that youth should so unthinking be !)126
                        
                        With the good ale in careless company.127
                        
                        How could you bear such taunts before them all,128
                        
                        As he—unjust and violent—let fall ?129
                        
                        He knew your heart, to him so warm and kind,130
                        
                        That passion could but for a moment blind ;131
                        
                        Passion, that love as suddenly would check,132
                        
                        And cast you, all-repentant, on his neck :133
                        
                        But he was gone before a word could pass—134
                        
                        Gone in his furious mood, before the glass135
                        
                        Ceased ringing, where he dash’d it on the floor136
                        
                        With that rash oath—to see thy face no more !”137
                        “ But I—but I—that ever it should be138
                        
                        Betwixt us so !— had told him bitterly139
                        
                        I never more desired his face to see.140
                        
                        I prosperous—He, a disappointed man—141
                        
                        Quick temper’d, spirit vex’d. Say what you can,142
                        
                        Dear comforter !  you cannot take away143
                        
                        The stinging mem’ry of that fatal day.”144
                        
                        Thus soothingly, a thousand times before145
                        
                        The loving wife had utter’d o’er and o’er146
                        
                        Mild consolation ;  on his heart that fell147
                        
                        Balmy, though there no settled peace might dwell :148
                        
                        And thus again, that night whereof I tell,149
                        
                        
They talk’d together ;  on his long-drawn sigh150
                        
                        Following their low-voiced, love-toned colloquy.151
                        
                        And all the while, intent upon her book,152
                        
                        The little maid sat still ;  an upward look,153
                        
                        (As play’d her father’s hand with her soft hair,)154
                        
                        Now and then glancing at the parent pair,155
                        
                        Her heart’s contentment full, assured they both were there.156
                        Loud burst the storm, that, fitfully suppress’d,157
                        
                        Had for a moment sobb’d itself to rest.158
                        
                        Creak’d doors and casements, clattering came the rain,159
                        
                        And the old wall’s stout timbers groan’d again.160
                        
                        “ Would they were back—that | could hear their tread !"161
                        
                        List’ning anxiously, the mother said :162
                        
                        “ God help, this fearful night, the houseless poor !163
                        
                        One would not turn a dog out from one’s door.”164
                        “ No—not a dog.—And yet I had the heart,165
                        
                        To let him homeless from my home depart166
                        
                        On such another night. Full well I mind,167
                        
                        As the door open’d, how the rain and wind168
                        
                        Flash’d in his face, and wellnigh beat him back.169
                        
                        Then—had I stretched a hand out !— —What lone track,170
                        
                        Unfriended since, hath he been doom’d to tread ?171
                        
                        Where hath he found a shelter for his head—172
                        
                        In this hard world, or with the happy dead ?”173
                        “ Nay, doubt it not, my husband !”  said the wife,174
                        
                        “ He hath been long at rest, where care and strife,175
                        
                        And pain and sorrow enter not. We know176
                        
                        That when he left us, nineteen years ago,177
                        
                        He went a-shipboard straight, and cross’d the seas178
                        
                        To that far, fatal coast, where fell disease179
                        
                        Strikes down its thousands,—that he went ashore,180
                        
                        And up the country, and was seen no more.181
                        
                        Had he not perish’d early, we had heard182
                        
                        Tidings ere long by letter or by word ;183
                        
                        For he too had a loving heart, that bore184
                        
                        No malice when the angry fit was o’er.185
                        
                        Be comforted, dear husband !  he’s at rest.186
                        
                        And let us humbly hope, for Christ’s sake—bless’d.”187
                        “ Hark, mother, hark !  I’m sure they’re coming back !”188
                        
                        Cried little Helen—who with Valiant Jack189
                        
                        Had parted for the night— “ That’s Willy’s call190
                        
                        To Hector, as they turn the garden wall.191
                        
                        Lizzy !  come quick and help me let them in—192
                        
                        They must be wet, poor brothers, to the skin.”193
                        
                        The rosy maid, already at the door,194
                        
                        Lifted the latch ;  and bounding on before,195
                        
                        (His rough coat scattering wide a plenteous shower,)196
                        
                        Hector sprang in, his master close behind,197
                        
                        Half spent with buffeting the rain and wind ;198
                        
                        Gasping for breath and words a moment’s space,199
                        
                        His eager soul all glowing in his face.200
                        “ Where’s Walter ?”  cried the mother, pale as death—201
                        
                        “ What’s happen’d ?”  ask’d both parents in a breath.202
                        
                        “ Safe, Mother dear !  and sound—I tell you true—203
                        
                        But, Father !  we can’t manage without you ;204
                        
                        Walter and Joe are waiting there down-bye,205
                        
                        At the old cart-house by the granary.206
                        
                        
As we came back that way, a man we found207
                        
                        (Some shipwreck’d seaman) stretch’d upon the ground208
                        
                        In that cold shelter. Very worn and weak209
                        
                        He seem’d, poor soul !  at first could hardly speak ;210
                        
                        And, as we held the lantern where he lay,211
                        
                        Moan’d heavily, and turn’d his face away.212
                        
                        But we spoke kindly—bade him be of cheer,213
                        
                        And rise and come with us—our home was near,214
                        
                        Whence our dear father never from his door215
                        
                        Sent weary traveller—weary, sick, or poor.216
                        
                        He listen’d, turn’d, and lifting up his head,217
                        
                        Look’d in our faces wistfully, and said—218
                        
                        ‘ Ye are but lads—(kind lads—God bless you both !)219
                        
                        And I, a friendless stranger, should be loath,220
                        
                        Unbidden by himself, to make so free221
                        
                        As cross the rich man’s threshold :  this for me222
                        
                        Is shelter good enough ;  for worse I’ve known—223
                        
                        What fitter bed than earth to die upon ?’224
                        
                        He spoke so sad, we almost wept ;  and fain225
                        
                        Would have persuaded him, but all in vain ;—226
                        
                        He will not move—I think he wants to die,227
                        
                        And so he will, if there all night he lie.”228
                        “ That shall he not,” the hearty yeoman said,229
                        
                        Donning his rough great-coat ;  “ a warmer bed230
                        
                        Shall pillow here to-night his weary head.231
                        
                        Off with us, Willy !  our joint luck we’ll try,232
                        
                        And bring him home, or know the reason why.”233
                        Warm hearts make willing hands ;  and Helen Hay234
                        
                        Bestirr’d her, while those dear ones were away,235
                        
                        Among her maidens, comforts to provide236
                        
                        ’Gainst their return :  still bustling by her side237
                        
                        Her little daughter, with officious care,238
                        
                        (Sweet mimicry !)  and many a matron air239
                        
                        Of serious purpose, helping to spread forth240
                        
                        Warm hose and vestments by the glowing hearth,241
                        
                        From the old walnut press, with kindly thought,242
                        
                        Stout home-spun linen, white and sweet, was brought243
                        
                        In a small decent chamber overhead,244
                        
                        To make what still was call’d  “ The Stranger’s bed.”245
                        
                        For many a lone wayfarer, old and poor,246
                        
                        Sick or sore wearied, on the dreary moor247
                        
                        Belated, at the hospitable door248
                        
                        Of the Old Farm ask’d shelter for the night,249
                        
                        Attracted by the far-seen, ruddy light250
                        
                        Of the piled hearth within.— “ A bit of bread251
                        
                        And a night’s shelter,” was the prayer oft said,252
                        
                        Seldom in vain ;— for Walter would repeat,253
                        
                        With lowly reverence, that assurance sweet—254
                        
                        “ How he the stranger’s heart with food and rest255
                        
                        Who cheers, may entertain an angel guest ;”256
                        
                        Or, giving in Christ’s name, for his dear sake be bless’d.257
                        Oft they look’d out into the murky night258
                        
                        Tempestuous, for the streaming lantern light ;259
                        
                        And hearken‘d (facing bold the driving sleet)260
                        
                        For sound of nearing voices—coming feet—261
                        
                        And there it gleams—and there they come at last—262
                        
                        Fitfully sinking, swelling on the blast ;263
                        
                        Till clustering forms from out the darkness grow,264
                        
                        Supporting one, with dragging steps and slow,265
                        
                        Feebly approaching.—
                        
“ Hold the lantern low—266
                        
                        Courage, my friend !  we’ve but a step to go,”267
                        
                        The yeoman’s cheerful voice was heard to say.268
                        
                        “ Hillo !  good folks there—here, my Helen Hay,269
                        
                        Little and great—l’ve brought you home a guest270
                        
                        Needs your good tending,—most of all needs rest ;271
                        
                        Which he shall find this blessed night, please God,272
                        
                        On softer pallet than the cold bare sod.”273
                        As they the threshold pass’d, the cheerful light274
                        
                        Flash’d from within ;  and shading quick his sight,275
                        
                        (Pain’d by the sudden glare,) upon his brow276
                        
                        The wayworn man his ragged hat pull’d low ;277
                        
                        Bow’d down his head, and sigh’d in such a tone,278
                        
                        Deep drawn and heavy, ’twas almost a groan.279
                        
                        They help’d him on, (for he could hardly stand,).280
                        
                        And little Helen drew him by the hand,281
                        
                        Whispering.— “ poor man!”—At that, a moment’s space282
                        
                        Halting, he fix’d his eyes on the young face283
                        
                        Of her who spoke those pitying words so mild,284
                        
                        And tremulously said— “ God bless thee, child !”285
                        The strong supporting arm—’twas Walter Hay’s—286
                        
                        Tighten’d its clasp, and with a searching gaze287
                        
                        Quick turn’d, he peer’d in those strange features ;—then288
                        
                        (For they were strange) drew back his head again,289
                        
                        Shaking it gently with a sorrowful smile.290
                        
                        The matron and her maids came round the while,291
                        
                        Toward the high-back’d Settle’s warmed nook292
                        
                        To lead the weary man ;  but with a look293
                        
                        Still downcast and aside, he shrunk away,294
                        
                        Articulating faintly,  “ Not to-day—295
                        
                        Not there to-night. Rest only !  only rest !”296
                        
                        So to the allotted room they brought their guest,297
                        
                        And laid him kindly down on the good bed,298
                        
                        With a soft pillow for his old grey head.299
                        
                        The long, thin, straggling locks, that hung adown300
                        
                        His hollow cheeks, had scarce a tinge of brown301
                        
                        Streaking their wintry white ;  and sorely marr’d302
                        
                        Was all his face :  thick seam’d, and deeply scarr’d,303
                        
                        As if in many battles he had fought304
                        
                        Among the foremost.—
                        “ From the first, I thought,”305
                        
                        Said the young Walter, as he came below,306
                        
                        “ The fine old fellow had dealt many a blow307
                        
                        For England’s glory, on her wooden walls.”308
                        
                        The father smiled.  “ Not every one who falls309
                        
                        In fight, my son !  may fall in a good cause—310
                        
                        As fiercely in resistance to the laws311
                        
                        Men strive, as in upholding them”—
                        “ But here
                              312
                        
                        I’m sure we’ve a true sailor, father dear !313
                        
                        No lawless, wicked man. When you were gone,314
                        
                        Willy and I some little time stay’d on—315
                        
                        (Mother had sent us up with some warm drink,316
                        
                        Made comforting)—and then you cannot think317
                        
                        How pleasantly, though sadly, he look’d up,318
                        
                        And ask’d our names as he gave back the cup ;319
                        
                        And when we told them, took a hand of each,320
                        
                        While his lips moved as if in prayer—not speech,321
                        
                        
With eyes so fix’d on us, and full of tears.”322
                        
                        “ Perhaps,” said William,  “ lads about our years323
                        
                        He might be thinking of—far, far away,324
                        
                        Or dead ;— his own dear children. Who can say ?”325
                        “ Ay, who indeed can say, boys ?— who can tell326
                        
                        The deep, deep thoughts, in human hearts that dwell327
                        
                        Long buried, that some word of little weight328
                        
                        Will call up sudden from their slumbering state,329
                        
                        So quicken’d into life, that past things seem330
                        
                        Present again—the present but a dream.331
                        
                        Boys !  in a book was lent me long agone,332
                        
                        I read what since I’ve often thought upon333
                        
                        With deepest awe. At the great Judgment-Day334
                        
                        Some learned scholars—wise and holy—say335
                        
                        That in a moment all our whole life past336
                        
                        Shall be spread out as in a picture vast—337
                        
                        Re-acted as it were, in open sight338
                        
                        Of God, and men, and angels ;  the strong light,339
                        
                        Indwelling conscience, serving to illume340
                        
                        The changeful All complete—from birth to doom.341
                        
                        Methinks—with humble reverence I speak—342
                        
                        I’ve been led sometimes to conception weak343
                        
                        Of that deep meaning, when a sudden ray344
                        
                        Has call’d, as ’twere from darkness into day,345
                        
                        Long past, forgotten things.—Oh !  children dear !346
                        
                        Lay it to heart, and keep the record clear347
                        
                        That all unveil’d, that day, must certainly appear.”348
                        Thus, as was oft his wont, religious truth349
                        
                        The pious father taught their tender youth,350
                        
                        As apposite occasion led the way ;351
                        
                        No formal teacher stern. Nor only they,352
                        
                        The filial listeners, fix’d attention gave353
                        
                        To his wise talk—with earnest looks and grave354
                        
                        His rustic household, at the supper board355
                        
                        Assembled all, gave heed to every word356
                        
                        Utter’d instructive ;  and when down he took357
                        
                        And open’d reverently the blessed Book ;358
                        
                        With hearts prepared, on its great message dwelt :359
                        
                        And when around, in after prayer they knelt,360
                        
                        Forgot not, e’er they rose; for him to pray361
                        
                        Master and Teacher,—Father, they might say,362
                        
                        Who led them like his own, the happy, heavenward way.363
                        “ Did you take notice, wife”—the husband said,364
                        
                        Their busy, well-spent day thus finished—365
                        
                        When all except themselves were gone to rest—366
                        
                        “ Did you take notice, when our stranger guest367
                        
                        Spoke those few words to Helen, of his tone ?368
                        
                        It thrill’d my very heart through :  so like one369
                        
                        These nineteen years unheard.”
                        “ I scarce gave heed370
                        
                        To any thing,” she said,  “ but his great need371
                        
                        Of help, poor soul !  so faint he seem’d and low.”372
                        
                        “ Well, well,” rejoin’d her husband,  “ even now373
                        
                        I seem to hear it :—Then, into my brain,374
                        
                        Wild thoughts came crowding ;  quickly gone again,375
                        
                        When I look’d hard, but not a line could trace376
                        
                        Familiar, in that weatherbeaten face.377
                        
                        That lost one, were he living now, would be378
                        
                        Younger a year and many months than me—379
                        
                        
Than this time-stricken man, by many a year.380
                        
                        But, oh !  these thoughts will haunt me, Helen, dear !381
                        
                        These sudden fancies, though so oft before382
                        
                        I’ve proved them vain, and felt all hope was o’er.”383
                        “ Only for this world, husband-mine !”  she said,384
                        
                        “ They live in Heaven, whom here we count as dead,385
                        
                        And there we all shall meet, when all is finished.”386
                        “ God grant it !”  fervently he said ;  “ and so387
                        
                        To bed, good wife !  I must be up, you know,388
                        
                        And off by daybreak, on my townward way,389
                        
                        When, business done, be sure I shall not stay390
                        
                        A needless minute. Yet I guess ’twill be391
                        
                        Dark night before my own snug home I see.392
                        
                        Mind a low chair and cushion in the cart393
                        
                        Be set for Mark. God bless his poor old heart !394
                        
                        Though from the hospital they send him back395
                        
                        Blind and incurable, he shall not lack396
                        
                        Comfort or kindness here ;  his service done,397
                        
                        Of sixty years wellnigh, to sire and son.398
                        
                        I miss him every where ;  but most of all,399
                        
                        Methinks, at prayer-time, the deep solemn fall,400
                        
                        Tremblingly fervent, of his long  ‘ Amen !’401
                        
                        'Twill glad my heart to hear that sound again.”402
                        The Supper-board was spread—the hearth piled high—403
                        
                        All at the Farm look’d bright expectancy404
                        
                        Of him who ever seem’d too long away,405
                        
                        If absent from his dear ones but a day :406
                        
                        Old Mark, too, coming home !  what joy to all !—407
                        
                        Ye know not, worldlings, what glad festival408
                        
                        Pure hearts of simplest elements can make—409
                        
                        Ye, whose pall’d sense poor pleasure scarce can take410
                        
                        At feasts, where lips may smile, but hearts so often ache.411
                        There was a sudden rush from the old hall,412
                        
                        Children, and men, and maids, and dogs, and all,413
                        
                        Save her, who, with a deeper gladness, stay’d414
                        
                        Quietly busied ;  and far back in shade415
                        
                        (Forgotten there awhile) the stranger guest.416
                        
                        But quiet though she seemeth, with the rest417
                        
                        Be sure her heart went forth those wheels to meet ;418
                        
                        And now they stop :  and loving voices greet,419
                        
                        Mingling confusedly ;  yet every one420
                        
                        She hears distinct :  as harmonist each tone421
                        
                        Of his full chord,—distinct as if alone.422
                        And there he comes, (sight gladdening every eye,)423
                        
                        The darling young one in his arms throned high,424
                        
                        Her warm cheek to his cold one closely press’d.425
                        
                        And there those two blithe boys, and all the rest,426
                        
                        So crowd about old Mark with loving zeal.427
                        
                        The blind man weeps, and fondly tries to feel428
                        
                        Those fair young faces he no more must see.429
                        
                        “ Give us warm welcome, Dame !”  cried cheerily430
                        
                        Her husband, as their greeting glances met ;431
                        
                        “ We’re cold enough, I warrant, and sharp set—432
                        
                        But here’s a sight would warm the dead to life,433
                        
                        Clean hearth, bright blaze, heap’d board, and smiling wife !”434
                        Lightly he spake,—but with a loving look435
                        
                        Went to her heart, who all its meaning took :436
                        
                        
And briskly she bestirr’d herself about,437
                        
                        And with her merry maids, heap’d smoking out438
                        
                        The savoury messes. With unneeded care439
                        
                        Set nearer still the goodman’s ready chair :440
                        
                        Then help’d uncase him from his rough great-coat,441
                        
                        Then gave a glance that all was right to note
                               :442
                        
                        Welcomed old Mark to his accustom’d seat443
                        
                        With that heart-welcoming, so silver sweet ;444
                        
                        And, all at last completed to her mind,445
                        
                        Call’d to the board with cheerful bidding kind ;446
                        
                        Where all stood round in serious quietness,447
                        
                        Till God’s good gifts the master’s voice should bless.448
                        
                        But, with a sudden thought, as glancing round,449
                        
                        “ I thought,” he said,  “ another to have found450
                        
                        Among us here to-night.”  “ And he is here,”451
                        
                        Exclaim’d the wife— “ forgotten though so near !”452
                        
                        Then turning where the stranger sat far back,453
                        
                        She said— “ Forgive us friend !  our seeming lack454
                        
                        Of Christian courtesy :  Draw near, and share455
                        
                        With hearty welcome, of our wholesome fare.”456
                        
                        Silent and slow, the bashful guest obey’d,457
                        
                        Still shrinkingly, as to presume afraid ;458
                        
                        And when his host with kindly greeting press’d,459
                        
                        Bow’d down his head—deep down upon his breast,460
                        
                        Answering in words so low you scarce could hear—461
                        
                        But the quick sense of blindness caught them clear ;462
                        
                        And in a tone which thrill’d through every heart,463
                        
                        The sightless man, with a convulsive start,464
                        
                        Call’d out— As God’s in heaven, (His will be done,)465
                        
                        That was the voice of my dead master’s son !”466
                        “ Mark !  Mark !  what say’st, old man ?”  cried sharply out467
                        
                        His Master, as he rose and turn’d about468
                        
                        (Trembling exceedingly) his guest to face ;469
                        
                        Who at that outery, staggering back a pace,470
                        
                        (He also trembled, and look’d like to fall,)471
                        
                        Leant back—a heavy weight—against the wall.472
                        
                        One might have heard a pin fall on the ground,473
                        
                        There was such deep and sudden silence round :474
                        
                        Except that two or three breathed audibly,475
                        
                        (Those wondering boys, whose eager hearts beat high,)476
                        
                        And little Helen sobb’d, she knew not why.477
                        There fixed, foot to foot, and breast to breast,478
                        
                        And face to face, stood Walter and his Guest—479
                        
                        And neither stirr’d a limb, nor wink’d an eye,480
                        
                        (The stranger’s sought the ground still droopingly,)481
                        
                        Nor spoke, till many minutes had gone by ;482
                        
                        Then, as if life upon his utterance hung,483
                        
                        In low, deep accents, loosen’d first his
                              tongue,484
                        
                        Upon the other’s shoulder as he laid485
                        
                        His right hand slowly, Walter softly said—486
                        
                        “ Dear brother William !”  An electric start487
                        
                        Answer’d that touch, deep-thrilling to the heart,488
                        
                        And that soft whisper’d word. Their meeting eyes,489
                        
                        Full of fond yearnings, tender memories,490
                        
                        All in a moment told—explain’d—confess’d—491
                        
                        Absolved,—And Walter fell on William’s breast.492