Chapter 51

He reads it, turns deadly pale, and leans his arms and head on the table, almost fainting. This lasts some time; then starting up, he paces through the room, his shoulders slightly shrugged, his arms rigid by his sides, and his hands clenched hard, as if a net of pain were drawn tight around his frame. At length he breathes deep, draws himself up, and walks erect, his chest swelling, but his teeth set_.

_Julian_. Me! My wife! Insect, didst thou say _my_ wife?

[_Hurriedly turning the letter on the table to see the address_.]

Why, if she love him more than me, why then Let her go with him!--Gone to Italy! Pursue, says he? _Revenge_?--Let the corpse crush The slimy maggot with its pulpy fingers!-- What if I stabbed--

[_Taking his dagger, and feeling its point_.]

Whom? Her--what then?--Or him-- What yet? Would that give back the life to me? There is one more--myself! Oh, peace! to feel The earthworms crawling through my mouldering brain!-- But to be driven along the windy wastes-- To hear the tempests, raving as they turn, Howl _Lilia, Lilia_--to be tossed about Beneath the stars that range themselves for ever Into the burning letters of her name-- 'Twere better creep the earth down here than that, For pain's excess here sometimes deadens pain.

[_He throws the dagger on the floor_.]

Have I deserved this? Have I earned it? I? A pride of innocence darts through my veins. I stand erect. Shame cannot touch me. Ha! I laugh at insult. _I_? I am myself--

Why starest thou at me? Well, stare thy fill; When devils mock, the angels lend their wings:-- But what their wings? I have nowhere to fly. Lilia! my worship of thy purity! Hast thou forgotten--ah! thou didst not know How, watching by thee in thy fever-pain, When thy white neck and bosom were laid bare, I turned my eyes away, and turning drew With trembling hand white darkness over thee, Because I knew not thou didst love me then. Love me! O God in heaven! Is love a thing That can die thus? Love me! Would, for thy penance, Thou saw'st but once the heart which thou hast torn-- Shaped all about thy image set within! But that were fearful! What rage would not, love Must then do for thee--in mercy I would kill thee, To save thee from the hell-fire of remorse. If blood would make thee clean, then blood should flow; Eager, unwilling, this hand should make thee bleed, Till, drop by drop, the taint should drop away. Clean! said I? fit to lie by me in sleep, My hand upon thy heart!--not fit to lie, For all thy bleeding, by me in the grave!

[_His eye falls on that likeness of Jesus said to be copied from an emerald engraved for Tiberius. He gazes, drops on his knees, and covers his face; remains motionless a long time; then rises very pale, his lips compressed, his eyes filled with tears_.]

O my poor Lilia! my bewildered child! How shall I win thee, save thee, make thee mine? Where art thou wandering? What words in thine ears? God, can she never more be clean? no more, Through all the terrible years? Hast thou no well In all thy heaven, in all thyself, that can Wash her soul clean? Her body will go down Into the friendly earth--would it were lying There in my arms! for there thy rains will come, Fresh from the sky, slow sinking through the sod, Summer and winter; and we two should lie Mouldering away together, gently washed Into the heart of earth; and part would float Forth on the sunny breezes that bear clouds Through the thin air. But her stained soul, my God! Canst thou not cleanse it? Then should we, when death Was gone, creep into heaven at last, and sit In some still place together, glory-shadowed. None would ask questions there. And I should be Content to sorrow a little, so I might But see her with the darling on her knees, And know that must be pure that dwelt within The circle of thy glory. Lilia! Lilia! I scorn the shame rushing from head to foot; I would endure it endlessly, to save One thought of thine from his polluting touch; Saying ever to myself: this is a part Of my own Lilia; and the world to me Is nothing since I lost the smiles of her: Somehow, I know not how, she faded from me, And this is all that's left of her. My wife! Soul of my soul! my oneness with myself! Come back to me; I will be all to thee: Back to my heart; and we will weep together, And pray to God together every hour, That he would show how strong he is to save. The one that made is able to renew-- I know not how.--I'll hold thy heart to mine, So close that the defilement needs must go. My love shall ray thee round, and, strong as fire, Dart through and through thy soul, till it be cleansed.-- But if she love him? Oh my heart--beat! beat! Grow not so sick with misery and life, For fainting will not save thee.--Oh no! no! She cannot love him as she must love me. Then if she love him not--oh horrible!--oh God!

[_He stands in a stupor for some minutes_.]

What devil whispered that vile word, _unclean_? I care not--loving more than that can touch. Let me be shamed, ay, perish in my shame, As men call perishing, so she be saved. Saved! my beloved! my Lilia!--Alas, Would she were here! oh, I would make her weep, Till her soul wept itself to purity! Far, far away! where my love cannot reach. No, no; she is not gone!

[_Starting and facing wildly through the room_.]

It is a lie-- Deluding blind revenge, not keen-eyed love. I must do something.--

[_Enter_ LILY.]

Ah! there's the precious thing That shall entice her back.

[_Kneeling and clasping the child to his heart_.]

My little Lily, I have lost your mother.

_Lily_. Oh!

[_Beginning to weep_.]

She was so pretty, Somebody has stolen her.

_Julian_. Will you go with me, And help me look for her?

_Lily_. O yes, I will.

[_Clasping him round the neck_.]

But my head aches so! Will you carry me?

_Julian_. Yes, my own darling. Come, we'll get your bonnet.

_Lily_. Oh! you've been crying, father. You're so white!

[_Putting her finger to his cheek_.]