We didn't learn much poetry at the Cruelty, did we, Mag? But I know
some now, just the same. When I began to read I heard only one
word--Moriway--Moriway--Moriway. But I must have--forgotten him after
a time, and the dark garden with the light on only one spot, and the
roses smelling, and Latimer lying perfectly still, his face turned
toward me, for I was reading--listen, I bet I can remember that part of
it if I say it slow--
Oh, Thou, who Man of baser Earth didst make,
And ev'n with Paradise devise the Snake:
For all the sin wherewith the Face of Man
Is blacken'd--Man's forgiveness give--and take!
--when all at once Mr. Latimer put his hand on the book. I looked up
with a start. The shadow by the gate was gone.
Yon rising Moon that looks for us again--
How oft hereafter will she wax and wane;
How oft hereafter rising look for us
Through this same Garden--and for ONE in vain!
Latimer was saying it without the book and with a queer smile that made
me feel I hadn't quite caught on.
"Thank you, that will do," he went on. "That is enough, Miss--" He
stopped.