'Tis said that he hated her brother,
As much as he loved the bride.
That brother, my father, forgave him,
As his last hour ran its sand,
And begged in return his forgiveness,
As he placed in his sister's hand
The bonds, that when I was twenty,
Should be at my command.
For my mother was dead, God rest her,
And I would be left alone.
The bride to her trust was unfaithful—
vHer heart was harder than stone.
And her widowed sister, left childless,
Adopted me as her own.
So we dwelt in opposite houses—
We in a dwelling low,
And he in a brown stone mansion.
I toiled and my gain was slow.
My uncle rode in a carriage
As fine as there was in the row.
Once, in a useless anger,
With courage not mine before,
I bearded the crafty lion,
Demanding my own, no more.
He said the law gave me nothing,
And showed me out of his door.
