'To aid thy mind's developments, to watch
The dawn of little joys, to sit and see
Almost thy very growth, to view thee catch
Knowledge of objects,--wonders yet to thee,--
And print on thy soft cheek a parent's kiss;--
This it should seem was not reserved for me.
Yet this was in my nature,--as it is,
I know not what there is, yet something like to this.

----------

'_Yet though dull hate as duty should be taught_,
I know that thou wilt love me; though my name
Should be shut out from thee as spell still fraught
With desolation and a broken claim,
Though the grave close between us,--'t were the same
I know that thou wilt love me, though to drain
My blood from out thy being were an aim
And an attainment,--all will be in vain.'

To all these charges against her, sent all over the world in verses as
eloquent as the English language is capable of, the wife replied nothing.

'Assailed by slander and the tongue of strife,
Her only answer was,--a blameless life.'

She had a few friends, a very few, with whom she sought solace and
sympathy. One letter from her, written at this time, preserved by
accident, is the only authentic record of how the matter stood with her.