Thomas Hardy — A Wife and Another

       &nbsp "War ends, and he's returning        &nbsp       &nbsp Early; yea,        &nbsp The evening next to-morrow's!" -        &nbsp       &nbsp —This I say To her, whom I suspiciously survey,        &nbsp Holding my husband's letter        &nbsp       &nbsp To her view. -        &nbsp She glanced at it but lightly,        &nbsp       &nbsp And I knew That one from him that day had reached her too.        &nbsp There was no time for scruple;        &nbsp       &nbsp Secretly        &nbsp I filched her missive, conned it,        &nbsp       &nbsp Learnt that he Would lodge with her ere he came home to me.        &nbsp To reach the port before her,        &nbsp       &nbsp And, unscanned,        &nbsp There wait to intercept them        &nbsp       &nbsp Soon I planned: That, in her stead, I might before him stand.        &nbsp So purposed, so effected;        &nbsp       &nbsp At the inn        &nbsp Assigned, I found her hidden:-        &nbsp       &nbsp O that sin Should bear what she bore when I entered in!        &nbsp Her heavy lids grew laden        &nbsp       &nbsp With despairs,        &nbsp Her lips made soundless movements        &nbsp       &nbsp Unawares, While I peered at the chamber hired as theirs.        &nbsp And as beside its doorway,        &nbsp       &nbsp Deadly hued,        &nbsp One inside, one withoutside        &nbsp       &nbsp We two stood, He came—my husband—as she knew he would.        &nbsp No pleasurable triumph        &nbsp       &nbsp Was that sight!        &nbsp The ghastly disappointment        &nbsp       &nbsp Broke them quite. What love was theirs, to move them with such might!        &nbsp "Madam, forgive me!" said she,        &nbsp       &nbsp Sorrow bent,        &nbsp "A child—I soon shall bear him . . .        &nbsp       &nbsp Yes—I meant To tell you—that he won me ere he went."        &nbsp Then, as it were, within me        &nbsp       &nbsp Something snapped,        &nbsp As if my soul had largened:        &nbsp       &nbsp Conscience-capped, I saw myself the snarer—them the trapped.        &nbsp "My hate dies, and I promise,        &nbsp       &nbsp Grace-beguiled,"        &nbsp I said, "to care for you, be        &nbsp       &nbsp Reconciled; And cherish, and take interest in the child."        &nbsp Without more words I pressed him        &nbsp       &nbsp Through the door        &nbsp Within which she stood, powerless        &nbsp       &nbsp To say more, And closed it on them, and downstairward bore.        &nbsp "He joins his wife—my sister,"        &nbsp       &nbsp I, below,        &nbsp Remarked in going—lightly -        &nbsp       &nbsp Even as though All had come right, and we had arranged it so . . .        &nbsp As I, my road retracing,        &nbsp       &nbsp Left them free,        &nbsp The night alone embracing        &nbsp       &nbsp Childless me, I held I had not stirred God wrothfully.