The Story
of Saville
Murmured, “Fret not thyself, dear heart, but leave thou the matter to me!”
“No, no!” said Kyrle, “you have often read how shipwrecked men in a boat
Of their meagre provision of water and bread take painfullest reckoning note,—
Sweet captain, how many days shall elapse that we together may float?”
Then the woman broke out in a passion of sobs, grovelling down on the floor,
“Oh, I have tricked you and trapped you, Kyrle! I am vile to the innermost core!
I am not what I seem—what I swore that I was, to make your deception complete,
A destitute girl,—I am rich instead,—rich, and a liar and cheat!”
Then Kyrle sprang up in an agonized whirl of righteous horror and wrath,
Like one who beholds a malignant snake rear green and gold in his path,—
What! had he given his father’s name, his heart, and his honest clean hand
To a thing defiled by the pavement’s soil, out of society banned,
