In the sweet shire of Devon. Those are the bells. MARGARET. Wilt go to church, John? JOHN. I have been there already. MARGARET. How can'st say thou hast been there already? The bells are only now ringing for morning service, and hast thou been at church already? JOHN. I left my bed betimes, I could not sleep, And the first object I discern'd Was the glistering spire of St. Mary Ottery. Well, John. MARGARET. JOHN. Then I remember'd 'twas the sabbath-day. Immediately a wish arose in my mind, To go to church and pray with Christian people. And then I check'd myself, and said to myself, "Thou hast been a heathen, John, these two years past, (Not having been at church in all that time,) “And is it fit, that now for the first time "Thou should'st offend the eyes of Christian " people "With a murderer's presence in the house of "prayer? "Thou would'st but discompose their pious "thoughts, "And do thyself no good: for how could'st "thou pray, "With unwash'd hands, and lips unus'd to the "offices?" And then I at my own presumption smiled; And I began to pray, and found I could pray; And still I yearn'd to say my prayers in the church. "Doubtless (said I) one might find comfort in it." So stealing down the stairs, like one that fear'd detection, Or was about to act unlawful business At that dead time of dawn, I flew to the church, and found the doors wide (Whether by negligence I knew not, Yes. MARGARET. JOHN. So entering in, not without fear, And covering up my eyes for shame, A docile infant by Sir Walter's side; But afterwards was greatly comforted. It seem'd, the guilt of blood was passing from me. Even in the act and agony of tears, And all my sins forgiven. |