I was cutting rags to braid a rug--I sat there by the fire;
I wished I'd kep' the dog at home; the gale was rising higher;
O own I had hard thoughts o' John; I said he had no right
To leave his wife in that lonesome place alone that dreadful night.
And then I thought of the murderer, afraid of God and man;
I seemed to follow him all the time, whether he hid or ran;
I saw him crawl on his hands and knees through the icy mud in the
rain,
And I wondered if he didn't wish he was back in his home again.
I fell asleep for an hour or two, and then I woke with a start;
A feeling come across me that took and stopped my heart;
I was 'fraid to look behind me; then I felt my heart begin;
And I saw right at the window-pane two eyes a-looking in.
I couldn't look away from them--the face was white as clay.
Those eyes, they make me shudder when I think of them to-day.
I knew right off 'twas Anderson. I couldn't move nor speak;
I thought I'd slip down on the floor, I felt so light and weak.
"O Lord," I thought, "what shall I do?" Some words begun to come,
Like some one whispered to me: I set there, still and dumb:
"I was a stranger--took me in--in prison--visited me;"
And I says, "O Lord, I couldn't; it's a murderer, you see!"
And those eyes they watched me all the time, in dreadful still
despair--
Most like the room looked warm and safe; he watched me setting
there;
And what 'twas made me do it, I don't know to this day,
But I opened the door and let him in--a murderer at bay.
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