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the lamb and the mystic pictures of the Eucharist, with a

violent, ashy hatred His fire was put out, she had thrown cold

water on it The whole thing was distasteful to him, his mouth

was full of ashes He went out cold with corpse-like anger,

leaving her alone He hated her He walked through the white

snow, under a sky of lead

And she wept again, in bitter recurrence of the previous

gloom But her heart was easy--oh,to ain He was black and surly, but abated She had broken a

little of solad to forfeit

fro love to him

He loved it when she put her head on his knee, and he had not

asked her to or wanted her to, he loved her when she put her

arms round him and made bold love to hi blood in his liain

And she loved the intent, far look of his eyes when they

rested on her: intent, yet far, not near, not with her And she

wanted to bring them near She wanted his eyes to come to hers,

to know her And they would not They remained intent, and far,

and proud, like a hawk's naive and inhuman as a hawk's So she

loved him and caressed him and roused him like a hawk, till he

was keen and instant, but without tenderness He ca her He was no

mystic any more, she was his aim and object, his prey And she

was carried off, and he was satisfied, or satiated at last