They both felt very foolish, and for a moment neither had the courage to speak. Ainslee, however, finally stepped forward manfully and assumed the burden of blame.
"Margaret," he said, "can you forgive?"
"Oh, Schuyler, I've been such a fool!" she cried, burying her face on his shoulder.
For the moment they forgot poor Wendell. He stood there alone, gazing at the last act of a comedy in which he had played the only mournful rôle. The sight of their happiness affected him profoundly. Dazed and unnerved, he turned away.
Ainslee looked up suddenly. "Why, Norman, old man,” he said, "you're not going?"
"Yes, I'm going."
"But where?" asked Margaret, cheerfully.
"God knows!"
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A LIFE
I SAW the little maiden moon—
She was so shy, so shy,
She hid herself behind a cloud
Till all the stars went by;
And pure as sea foam was her robe
And white as ivory,
And lily-buds that blow on earth
Raised timid heads to see.
I saw the moon, the full-grown moon,
Leap from the ocean's hold,
And bare her beauty to the sky,
Fierce, glorious and bold;
And crimson was her flaunting robe
And red as sin, maybe,
And poppy-buds that blow on earth
Raised wicked heads to see.
I saw the moon, the dying moon,
Falter across the sky;
White faced she fell before the morn
That smiled to see her die.
No wave that kissed her feet of old
But mocked her misery;
Only the sere, blown leaves of earth
Might mourn for such as she.
