Part 3
And God is love! He sent This love that fills my heart. Oh, most divine-- Oh, nearest to him of all earthly things, A love that passeth self--a love like mine That passeth understanding. The bird sings Because it is the only way he knows To praise his Maker; and a love that flows Like mine is worship, too--a hymn that rolls Up to the God of Love, who gave us souls To love with. Then the hidden sacrifice; It formed a part of worship once, and I Do hold it now the part that deepest lies In woman’s love, the dim sanctuary Behind the veil, holy of holies, kept E’en from the one she loves: all told, except This mystic feeling which she may not know How to express in words--the martyr’s glow Idealized--the wish to give him joy Through her own suffering, and so destroy All part that self might play--to offer pure Her love to her heart’s idol. Strange, obscure, Sacred, but mighty, is this longing; I Can feel though not define it. I would die To make him happy!
THE MAIDEN.
As his happiness Depends on me, then can you do no less Than yield him to me--if you love him thus.
THE LADY (_thinking_).
“As,” said she? Heart, but this is fabulous, This calm security of hers! (_Speaks._) Why, child, Hast never heard of passion, and its wild, Impetuous, unreasoning assault On souls that know not their own depths? The fault Not his: he was but young, he did not know Himself. Might he not love me even though Thou wert the best? Have pity! I appeal To all the woman in thee. Dost thou feel That one touch of his hand would call the blood Out from thy heart in an o’erwhelming flood To meet it?
THE MAIDEN.
Nay, I know not what you speak.
THE LADY.
Thou dost not, that I see. Thy pearly cheek Keeps its fair white. Sweet child, he’s that and more To me. Ah, let me kneel; thus I implore That thou wouldst yield him to me--all the right His boyhood promise gave thee.
THE MAIDEN.
In the sight Of Heaven we are betrothed; I cannot break My word.
THE LADY.
Oh, not for mine, but for _his_ sake! He loves me!
THE MAIDEN.
Only madness, that will burn And die to ashes; but, the fever past, The old, pure love will steadfastly return And take its rightful place.
THE LADY.
But should it last, This fever-madness? should he ask your grace, And say he loved me best?
THE MAIDEN.
Then, to his face I’d answer, Never! What! leave him to sin?
THE LADY.
And what the sin?
THE MAIDEN.
You! you! You have no faith, No creed, that I can learn. The Bible saith All such are evil.
THE LADY (_aside_).
Why did I begin Such hopeless contest? (_Speaks._) Child, if he should lie Before us now, and one said he must die Or love me, wouldst thou yield?
THE MAIDEN.
Never; as dead He would be in God’s hands; living--
THE LADY.
In mine.
THE MAIDEN.
That is, in atheism.
THE LADY.
Have I said Aught atheistical? Because my faith Is broader than its own, this conscience saith I am an atheist! Ah, child, is thine A better faith? Yet, be it what it may, Should he now lie before us here, and say He loved thee best, I’d yield him though my heart Should stop--though I should die. Yea, for his sake, To make him happy, I would even take Annihilation!--let the vital spark Called soul be turned to nothing.
THE MAIDEN.
Far apart Our motives; mine is clear with duty--
THE LADY.
Dark And heavy mine with love.
THE MAIDEN.
You talk of death With frequent phrase, as though a little thing, A matter merely of the will and breath, It were to face the judgment, and the King Who has not summoned you. Your flippant tongue Rolls out its offers as a song is sung, And, both mean nothing; for the chance to die For one we love, that glorious gift, comes now But rarely in this life that you and I Must bear our part in. Thus, no empty vow Do _I_ repeat; and yet, I surely know, At duty’s call right calmly could I go Up the red scaffold’s stairs.
THE LADY.
I well believe Thee, steadfast maiden-voice. Nay, I conceive _My_ love, _thy_ duty, are alike--the same Self-sacrifice under a various name According to our natures. I would yield, And thou refuse to yield, from the same love; I’d have him happy here, and thou--above. For thus we look at life. The book is sealed That holds our fate--we may not look within; But this I know, that, be it deadly sin Or highest good, he loves me!
THE MAIDEN.
There are loves-- And loves!
THE LADY.
So be it. All this word-work proves Nothing. Then let it end. Though there’s a charm In speech--but you are tired. ’Twill be no harm To rest you on my shoulder, though its creed (Poor shoulder!) is not orthodox.
THE MAIDEN.
Indeed, I need not rest.
THE LADY.
Well, then, I’m half asleep Myself, and you the silent watch may keep.-- (_Thinking._) I’ve whiled the time away; but, thou dear God, Who made me, how with bleeding feet have trod The toiling moments through my heart! I pray (For I believe that prayer may aid the soul, Though not the body nor the fixed control Of Nature) that his love may hold its sway E’en as I saw him last, when, at my feet, He lavished his young heart in burning tide Of loving words. Oh, not for mine own joy, But his, I pray this prayer; do thou destroy All my own part in it.--Ah, love, full sweet Shall be our meeting. Lo! the longed-for bride Comes--of her own accord. There is no bliss, Even in heaven, greater than the kiss That I do keep for thee!
THE MAIDEN (_thinking_).
O God, thy will Be done--yes, first of all, be done! (Bide still, Thou wicked, rebel heart!) Yet, O Lord, grant This grace to me, a lowly supplicant. My mind is vexèd, evil thoughts do rage Within my soul; O Merciful, assuage The suffering I endure!--If it is true My poor boy loves this woman--and what is Is ever for the best--create anew Her soul that it may surely leaven his With holiness. Oh, stretch Thy mighty arm And win her to Thy fold, that she may be A godly woman, graced with piety, Turned from the error of her ways, the harm Of all her worldliness, the sinful charm Of her fair face (if it be fair, though I Think her too brown) changed by humility To decorous sweetness.-- Lord, look in my heart; I may not know myself; search every part, And give me grace to say that I will yield My love to hers if Thy will stands revealed In his swift preference. Yet, in pity, hear-- Change her, Lord--make her good! [_Weeps._
THE LADY (_thinking_).
Is that a tear On her soft cheek? She has her little griefs, Then, as the children have; their small beliefs Are sometimes brought to naught--no fairies live, And dolls are sawdust!-- Love, I do forgive Your boyish fancy, for she’s lily fair; But no more could content you now than dew Could hope to fill Niagara with its rare, Fine drops that string the grass-blade’s shining hue, Upon the brink.--Dearest, I call! Oh, see How all my being rushes toward thee! Wait, E’en though before thine eyes bright heaven’s gate Let out its light: angels might envy thee Such love as I shall give thee--wait! oh, wait!
_THE FARM-HOUSE._
THE LADY.
The sun is setting, we have passed the mill Some time; the house is near Waunona Hill, But the road smooth this way--which doth account For the discrepancy of names. The gleam Of the low sun shines out beneath that mass Of purple thunder-cloud; when we surmount This little swell of land, its slanting beam Will light up all the lances of the grass, The steely hue, the blue of the Blue Grass.
* * * * *
That is the house off on the right; I know By intuition.
THE MAIDEN.
It may hold--the worst!
THE LADY.
Art faint?
THE MAIDEN.
’Twill pass. Lady, I enter first-- First and alone!
THE LADY.
Child, if I thought his heart Longed for the sight of you, I’d let you go; Nay, I would make you! As it is-- But no, It cannot be.
THE MAIDEN (_clasping her hands_).
Lord, give me strength! I yield; Go you the first. Ah! [_Sobs._
THE LADY.
Yours the nobler part; _I_ cannot yield. (And yet it is for him I hold this “cannot” firm.) What might you wield With that unflinching conscience-power! See, dim Mine eyes-- There; we will go together--thus! God help us both! [_They enter the house._ Yes, we have come, we two, His nearest, dearest. Is it perilous, The fever? Where--above? That stair? We go-- Come, child--come, child.
WOMAN OF THE HOUSE.
Dear ladies, you should know Before--
THE LADY.
Come!
WOMAN OF THE HOUSE.
He--
THE LADY.
Child, must I wait for you Here at his door!
THE MAIDEN.
I come; but something cold Has touched my heart.
THE LADY.
Then stay, coward!
THE MAIDEN.
Nay, hold; I come. [_They mount the stairs together._ (_Crying out above._) But he is dead--my Willie!
THE LADY (_above_).
Fate, You’ve gained the day at last! Yes, he is dead!
_BY THE DEAD._
WOMAN OF THE HOUSE.
He died last night at three--quite easily.
THE LADY.
Alone?
WOMAN OF THE HOUSE.
A surgeon from the camp was here.
THE LADY.
Where is the man?
WOMAN OF THE HOUSE.
Gone back.
THE LADY.
Send for him. See, Here is a trifle; though it cannot clear Our debt to you, yet take it.
WOMAN OF THE HOUSE.
But you give Too much.
THE LADY.
Keep it.
THE MAIDEN (_kneeling by the bedside_).
O Willie! can I live Without you? Love, my love, why are you dead And I alive? O noble, golden head, Whose every curl I know, how still you lie On this poor pillow, and how dreamlessly You sleep! But waken now; look on me, dear; Open those close-shut eyes, for I am here-- Yes, here all this long way from home. Oh, speak-- Speak to me, Willie.--Ah, how cold his cheek-- How icy cold! O God! he’s dead, he’s dead!
WOMAN OF THE HOUSE.
Yes, he is dead, dead as King David. Truth He was right handsome for a Yankee youth-- Rode his horse well.
THE LADY (_aside_).
I love you, Meredith.
THE MAIDEN.
What’s this upon the table near his hand? [_Opens the package._ My picture--yes, my letters--all! Herewith I know--I know he loved me!
THE LADY (_thinking_).
Cover worn, Creased in its folds, unopened, and forlorn-- Yes, I remember it. I would not look Within;--unopened since that day. He took The poor thing forth with dying loyalty To send to her.
THE MAIDEN.
O Lord, I understand Thy purpose; ’twas to try my faith. I kneel To thank thee that mercy doth reveal The whole to my poor heart. He loved me--me, Me only!
WOMAN OF THE HOUSE.
Would you like to see the wound Here in his arm?--Why, if she hasn’t swooned!
THE LADY.
Take her below, and care for her, poor child!
[_Exit woman, carrying the maiden in her arms._
Brain, art thou wild, Distraught, that thou canst all things calmly hear And answer, when my pulses reel, my heart Stands still, and cold through every vital part Death breathes his icy breath? Oh, my own love! I clasp thee in my arms, come back to me! O ice-cold lips I kiss, ye are as dear As ever! Come! Thy idol waits for thee, Waits--weeps. Dost thou not hear me there above Where thou hast gone? Come back and take the bride Who nestles weeping, longing, at the side Of thy deserted body. Oh! most fair Thy earthly tenement, the golden hair Curls as when my poor fingers twined it last, Thy head upon my breast. O brownèd cheek! Can I not warm thee with mine own? Oh, speak-- Speak to me, Meredith! Poor wounded arm, Dear blood; here will I hold thee close and warm Upon my heart. Dost thou not feel me now? And now? And now? Do I not hold thee fast? Hast thou not longed for me? I gave my vow To be thine own. See! I am come. My hand I lay in thine. Oh, speak to me! Command My every breath; full humbly I obey, The true wife longs to feel a master’s sway, Longs to do homage, so her idol prove Ruler--nay, despot of her willing love. Didst thou not hear me whisper while she spake. “I love thee--oh, I love thee, Meredith?” I would not that her childish grief should break Thy peace up in thy heaven; even there Thou longest for my love, and near the stair Where souls come up from earth thou’rt standing now Watching for me. O darling, from thy brow I catch the radiance! She is not thine, Thou art not hers. The boyish pledge wherewith She strives to hold thee was the radiancy Of early dawn, which now the mighty sun Hath swept away in fervent heat; nor thee Nor her it binds. Her pretty youth will run Its swift course to some other love; Fate Ne’er lets such sweet maids pine, though they may try; A few months lent to tearful constancy, The next to chastened sorrow, slow decline To resignation; then, the well-masked bait Of making some one happy, though at cost Of sweet self-sacrifice, which soon is lost In that content which, if not real love, Looks strangely like it! But why should I prove What thou dost know already, freed from time And finite bonds, my darling? Love sublime, Art thou not God? Then let him down to me For one short moment. See! in agony I cling to the cold body; let him touch Me once with this dear hand; it is not much I ask--one clasp, one word. What! nothing? Then I call down vengeance on this God of men Who makes us at his will, and gives us hearts Only to rend them in a hundred parts, And see them quiver--bleed! I, creature, dare To call aloud for justice; my despair Our great far-off Creator doth arraign Before the bar to answer for the pain I suffer now. It is too much--too much! O woe! woe! woe! the human soul can such Intensity of sorrow not withstand, But, lifting up on high its fettered hand, Can only cry aloud in agony, And blindly, wildly curse its God and die! How dare you take, You Death, my love away from me? The old, The weak, the loveless, the forlorn, were there In crowds, and none to miss them. But your cold And heartless eye did mark that he was fair, And that I loved him? From your dreadful hold I snatch my darling, and he yet shall wake From out your sleep by my caresses. See, See how I love him! Ah, shall I not win His life back with my lips, that lovingly Do cling to his? And, though you do begin Your icy work, these arms shall keep him warm-- Nay, more: my loving verily disarm E’en you, O King of Terrors! You shall turn And give him back to me; a heart shall burn Under your ribs at last from very sight Of my fierce, tearless grief. --O sorry plight Of my poor darling in this barren room, Where only his gold curls do light the gloom! But we will change all that. This evening, dear, Shall be our bridal: wilt thou take me, here, And thus?--in this array--this falling hair-- Crushed robes? And yet, believe me, I am fair As ever. Love, love, love! oh, speak to me! I will not listen in my misery If thy heart beat-- God! it is cold! [_Falls to the floor._
_Enter the_ SURGEON.
SURGEON.
Art ill, Madam?--
THE LADY (_rising_).
Thanks, sir. But sorrow cannot kill. Would that it could! Nay, I sit by his side-- Thus. Now tell all--all--all.
SURGEON.
You cannot hide The deadly faintness that has paled your cheek; Let me get--
THE LADY.
Nothing. Nothing can avail, Good sir; my very heart’s blood has turned pale. Struck by God’s lightning, do you talk to me Of faintness? Only tell your tale--speak, speak; You saw him die?
SURGEON.
I did; right tranquilly He passed away this morning, with your name Upon his lips--for you are Helena?
THE LADY.
I am.
SURGEON.
I saw your picture. (_Aside._) Yes, the same. Hair, eyes. What Titian tints! (_Speaks._) He made me lay Your letters and your picture on his heart Before he died; he would not from them part For e’en one moment.
THE LADY.
Lift them not, they’re mine; My hand alone must touch the holy shrine Of love and death where the poor relics lie-- Darling (_bends, and kisses the letters_), because you loved them! Let them die, Go to the grave with him, there on his breast, Where I would gladly die too--be at rest Forever.--And he spake of me?
SURGEON.
He said That you would come, for he had sent you word.
THE LADY.
I ne’er received it; ’twas by chance I heard, A passing chance.
SURGEON.
The lines were down--
THE LADY.
And may They never rise again that failed that day, And left him dying here! Go on; he said--
SURGEON.
That you would come, and grieved that o’er his head The turf might close ere you could reach his side And give him one last kiss. And then--he died.
THE LADY.
No more?
SURGEON.
No more. Ah, yes, one other thing: Short time before, he feebly bade me bring That package on the table--but ’tis torn-- Some one has opened it! It looked well worn, In old, unbroken foldings when I brought It from his satchel. Who could thus have wrought On other’s property?
THE LADY.
The owner.--Then He said--
SURGEON.
To give it you, for you would know Its history, and where it swift should go; The name was writ within.
THE LADY (_aside_).
Yes, love; amen! Be it according to thy wish. (_Speaks._) Pray take This fee, good sir. I would that for his sake-- Your kindness to him--I could send your name Ringing through all the West in silver fame.-- At dawn, you said, the burial? Then leave Me here alone with him. I well believe You’ll show me further kindness. Speak no word Beyond your doctor’s art to that poor child Who weeps below. I would not that she heard Aught more of grief. [_Exit_ SURGEON. Ah! all my passion wild Has gone; now come the softening woman tears.-- Forgive me, great Creator, that I spake In my sharp agony. O do thou take The bitterness from out my soul; I know Naught, but thou knowest all! Then let my woe, The poor blind woe we short-lived mortals bear, Be my sad plea.-- I knew, through my despair, You loved me to the last. Death had no fears For you, my love; you met him with my name, As talisman of the undying flame That leaps o’er the black chasm of the grave And mounts to heaven. But I will not rave, When you died softly.
Ah! you love me there As well as here. God never made me fair For nothing; now, I know the gift he gave That I might take my place with you at last, Equal in loveliness, though years had passed Since you first breathed the air above the skies, The beauty-giving air of paradise. Fair are you now, my love, but not like me: Mine is the goddess-bloom, the rarity Of perfect loveliness; yours, the bright charm Of strong young manhood, whose encircling arm Could bend me like a reed. Oh, for one clasp Of that strong arm!-- Hist! was not that the hasp Of the old door below? She comes; I hear Her light step on the stair. Darling, no fear Need trouble you upon your couch; to me A sacred trust this gentle girl shall be Through life. Did you not love her once?
THE MAIDEN (_entering_).
I pray Forgiveness thus to leave you here so long; I did not mean it, but I swooned away Before I knew it.
THE LADY.
Thanks. There was no wrong; I liked the vigil.
THE MAIDEN (_going to the bedside_).
Sweet those eyes--the brow How calm! I would not bring life to him now E’en if I could; gone to his God--at rest From all earth’s toil. Dear love, upon thy breast I lay my hand; I yield thee back to Him Who gave thee to me; and, if thou hast wrought Wrong to our troth in deed, or word, or thought, I now forgive thee. Sleep in peace; the dim, Dark grave has its awaking. As the hart Longed for the water-brooks, so have I yearned For token, Willie, that thy love returned To me at last. Lo! now I can depart In peace.--My picture, letters! Thou wast true, Wast true to me, thank God!-- (_Turning._) Madam, to you I owe apology.
THE LADY.
Never! But throw Your gentle arms around me--thus. And so Give me a blessing.
THE MAIDEN.
But I’ve robbed you--you Who loved him also; though to me was due This love of his; at least--
THE LADY.
Sweet doubter, yes; I grant thee all. But, as I kneel, O bless This heart that bows before thee; all its sin-- If it be sin--forgive; and take, within Thy pure love, me, thy sister, who must live Long years--long years! O child, who dost forgive More than thou knowest, lay thy sister-hand In blessing!
THE MAIDEN.
Though I do not understand, Yet will I thus content thee: Now the Lord Bless thee, and keep thee by his holy word; Be gracious to thee, that thy faith increase; Lift up his countenance, and give thee peace, Now and forever!
THE LADY.
Amen. May it prove-- This peace--what thou dost think it.
THE MAIDEN.
I must go; The horses wait for me. Now that I know He’s safe with God, the living claim my care.-- My mother--ah, full selfish was the love That made me leave her so; I could despair Of mine own self, if God were not so good, Long-suffering, and kind. O could I stay! But I must reach the train at break of day. I take my letters and the picture.--Should Your duties call you not so soon, oh wait, See his dear head laid low by careful hand, And say a prayer above the grave.
THE LADY (_aside_).
O Fate, How doth she innocently torture--rack My soul with hard realities! I stand And hear her talk of graves!--O God, the black, Damp earth over my darling!
THE MAIDEN (_turning to the bedside_).
Love, farewell! I kiss thee once.--Lady, you do not mind? It was but once. I would not seem unkind; I would not wound you needlessly.
THE LADY (_aside_).
O swell, Proud heart, to bursting, but gainsay her not!
THE MAIDEN.
I know full well that yours the harder lot, Dear lady; but, forgive me, he was mine Long, long before. It were too much to ask That I should not be glad his heart returned To me, his bride betrothed--to know he yearned For me before he died. I cannot mask My joy because you loved him too.
THE LADY.
Nay, thine All joy that thou canst take; I would not rob Thee of one little hair’s-breadth.