Page:Aurora Leigh a Poem.djvu/341

Rh But, that we choose it, proves it good for us Potentially, fantastically, now Or last year, rather than a thing we saw, And saw no need for choosing. Moths will burn Their wings,—which proves that light is good for moths, Or else they had flown not, where they agonise.’

‘Ay, light is good,’ he echoed, and there paused. And then abruptly,. . ‘Marian. Marian’s well?’

I bowed my head but found no word. ‘Twas hard To speak of her to Lady Waldemar’s New husband. How much did he know, at last? How much? how little?——He would take no sign, But straight repeated,—’Marian. Is she well?’

‘She’s well,’ I answered.

She was there in sight An hour back, but the night had drawn her home; Where still I heard her in an upper room, Her low voice singing to the child in bed, Who restless with the summer-heat and play And slumber snatched at noon, was long sometimes At falling off, and took a score of songs And mother-hushes, ere she saw him sound.

‘She’s well,’ I answered.

‘Here?’ he asked.