Chapter 43

_Lilia_. He grows more moody still, more self-withdrawn. Were it not better that I went away, And left him with the child; for she alone Can bring the sunshine on his cloudy face? Alas, he used to say to me, _my child_! Some convent would receive me in my land, Where I might weep unseen, unquestioned; And pray that God in whom he seems to dwell, To take me likewise in, beside him there.

Had I not better make one trial first To win again his love to compass me? Might I not kneel, lie down before his feet, And beg and pray for love as for my life? Clasping his knees, look up to that stern heaven, That broods above his eyes, and pray for smiles? What if endurance were my only meed? He would not turn away, but speak forced words, Soothing with kindness me who thirst for love, And giving service where I wanted smiles; Till by degrees all had gone back again To where it was, a slow dull misery. No. 'Tis the best thing I can do for him-- And that I will do--free him from my sight. In love I gave myself away to him; And now in love I take myself again. He will not miss me; I am nothing now.

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