LITMIR.BIZ

      Printed in Canada

      14 13 12 11 10 5 4 3 2 1

      Library and Archives Canada Cataloguing in Publication

      Allin, Lou, date-

      She felt no pain / Lou Allin.

      (A Holly Martin mystery)

      ISBN 978-1-926607-07-8

      I. Title. II. Series: Allin, Lou, date- . A Holly Martin mystery.

      PS8551.L5564S54 2010 C813’.6 C2010-904969-1

      To the Crime Writers of Canada,

       forever fighting to keep their country’s

       best and brightest in the forefront.

      And above all, to the Executive Board from 2009-2010.

      United we stood.

      PORPHYRIA’S LOVER

      The rain set early in tonight,

      The sullen wind was soon awake,

      It tore the elm-tops down for spite,

      And did its worst to vex the lake:

      I listened with heart fit to break.

      When glided in Porphyria; straight

      She shut the cold out and the storm,

      And kneeled and made the cheerless grate

      Blaze up, and all the cottage warm;

      Which done, she rose, and from her form

      Withdrew the dripping cloak and shawl,

      And laid her soiled gloves by, untied

      Her hat and let the damp hair fall,

      And, last, she sat down by my side

      And called me. When no voice replied,

      She put my arm about her waist,

      And made her smooth white shoulder bare,

      And all her yellow hair displaced,

      And, stooping, made my cheek lie there,

      And spread, o’er all, her yellow hair,

      Murmuring how she loved me—she

      Too weak, for all her heart’s endeavour,

      To set its struggling passion free

      From pride, and vainer ties dissever,

      And give herself to me forever.

      But passion sometimes would prevail,

      Nor could tonight’s gay feast restrain

      A sudden thought of one so pale

      For love of her, and all in vain:

      So, she was come through wind and rain.

      Be sure I looked up at her eyes

      Happy and proud; at last I knew

      Porphyria worshiped me: surprise

      Made my heart swell, and still it grew

      While I debated what to do.

      That moment she was mine, mine, fair,

      Perfectly pure and good: I found

      A thing to do, and all her hair

      In one long yellow string I wound

      Three times her little throat around,

      And strangled her. No pain felt she;

      I am quite sure she felt no pain.

      As a shut bud that holds a bee,

      I warily oped her lids: again

      Laughed the blue eyes without a stain.

      And I untightened next the tress

      About her neck; her cheek once more

      Blushed bright beneath my burning kiss:

      I propped her head up as before,

      Only, this time my shoulder bore

      Her head, which droops upon it still:

      The smiling rosy little head,

      So glad it has its utmost will,

      That all it scorned at once is fled,

      And I, its love, am gained instead!

      Porphyria’s love: she guessed not how

      Her darling one wish would be heard.

      And thus we sit together now,

      And all night long we have not stirred,

      And yet God has not said a word!

      Robert Browning

      TABLE OF CONTENTS

PROLOGUE

ONE

TWO

THREE

FOUR

       FIVE

       SIX

       SEVEN

       EIGHT

       NINE

       TEN

       ELEVEN

       TWELVE

       THIRTEEN

       FOURTEEN

       FIFTEEN

       SIXTEEN

       SEVENTEEN

       EIGHTEEN

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