"I have obey'd my uncle until now, And I have sinn'd, for it was all thro' me

This evil came on William at the first.

But, Mary, for the sake of him that's gone,
And for your sake, the woman that he chose,
And for this orphan, I am come to you:

You know there has not been for these five years
So full a harvest let me take the boy,

And I will set him in my uncle's eye

Among the wheat; that when his heart is glad Of the full harvest, he may see the boy,

And bless him for the sake of him that's gone."
And Dora took the child and went her way
Across the wheat, and sat upon a mound

That was unsown, where many poppies grew.
Far off the farmer came into the field

And spied her not; for none of all his men
Dare tell him Dora waited with the child;
And Dora would have risen and gone to him,
But her heart fail'd her; and the reapers reap'd,
And the sun fell, and all the land was dark.

But when the morrow came, she rose and took

The child once more, and sat upon the mound;

And made a little wreath of all the flowers

That grew about, and tied it round his hat

To make him pleasing in her uncle's eye.
Then when the farmer pass'd into the field
He spied her, and he left his men at work
And came and said, "Where were you yesterday?
Whose child is that? What are you doing here?"
So Dora cast her eyes upon the ground

And answer'd softly, "This is William's child!"
"And did I not," said Allan, " did I not

Forbid you, Dora ?" Dora said again,

"Do with me as you will, but take the child And bless him for the sake of him that's gone!

And Allan said, "I see it is a trick

Got up betwixt you and the woman there.

I must be taught my duty, and by you!
You knew my word was law, and yet you dared
To slight it. Well-for I will take the boy;
But go you hence, and never see me more.”
So saying, he took the boy, that cried aloud
And struggled hard. The wreath of flowers fell

At Dora's feet. She bow'd upon her hands,

And the boy's cry came to her from the field,

More and more distant. She bow'd down her head, Remembering the day when first she came,

And all the things that had been. She bow'd down And wept in secret; and the reapers reap'd,

And the sun fell, and all the land was dark.

Then Dora went to Mary's house, and stood
Upon the threshold. Mary saw the boy
Was not with Dora. She broke out in praise
To God, that help'd her in her widowhood.
And Dora said, "My uncle took the boy;
But, Mary, let me live and work with

He

you:

says that he will never see me more."

Then answer'd Mary, "This shall never be,
That thou shouldst take my trouble on thyself:
And, now I think, he shall not have the boy,
For he will teach him hardness, and to slight
His mother; therefore thou and I will go,
And I will have my boy, and bring him home;
And I will beg of him to take thee back;

But if he will not take thee back again,

Then thou and I will live within one house,
And work for William's child, until he grows

Of age to help us.”

So the women kiss'd

Each other, and set out, and reach'd the farm. The door was off the latch; they peep'd, and saw

The boy set up betwixt his grandsire's knees,

Who thrust him in the hollows of his arm,

And clapp'd him on the hands and on the cheeks,
Like one that loved him; and the lad stretch'd out
And babbled for the golden seal, that hung
From Allan's watch, and sparkled by the fire.
Then they came in: but when the boy beheld
His mother, he cried out to come to her,
And Allan set him down; and Mary said:
"O Father! —if you let me call you so
I never came a-begging for myself,

Or William, or this child; but now I come
For Dora: take her back; she loves you well.
O Sir, when William died, he died at peace
With all men; for I ask'd him, and he said,
He could not ever rue his marrying me;

I had been a patient wife: but, Sir, he said

That he was wrong to cross his father thus.

'God bless him!' he said, and may he never know

The troubles I have gone thro'!' Then he turn'd

His face and pass'd — unhappy that I am!

But

now,

Sir, let me have my boy, for you

Will make him hard, and he will learn to slight

His father's memory; and take Dora back,
And let all this be as it was before."

So Mary said, and Dora hid her face

By Mary. There was silence in the room;

And all at once the old man burst in sobs :

"I have been to blame-to blame. I have kill'd

The old man's neck, and kiss'd him many times.

And all the man was broken with remorse;

And all his love came back a hundredfold;

And for three hours he sobb'd o'er William's child, Thinking of William.