Page:Once a Week, Series 1, Volume II Dec 1859 to June 1860.pdf/442

5, 1860.]

’Tis certain no man ever took such pains

To show that he was not in love.

Lady A.You love

Her not, then?

Lord H.Must he love not, that shows not love?

Lady A. I’ve met your sort in town; but that the country

Should quicken such deceit, ’tis really shocking!

One reads of pastoral life, and thinks of men

With hearts hanging out of their button-holes.

Hearts! Well, what fools we women are, to be

So duped. Because you wear an artful look

Of mazed abstraction, drop your eyes, and heave

(Good day to your lusty lungs!) a sigh would fill

A trumpet; then break off, as from a dream,

With cunning talk of incoherent things;

We, trusting fools! must needs believe ’tis love.

My uncle did me wrong to trust me with you.

Lord H. What change has come upon me, I should seem

The thing I scorn? ’Tis but your humour paints

Me thus.

Lady A.And yours to sit the portrait out,

Until the likeness to a hair be perfect.

Lord H. What would you have me do?

Lady A.Be honest.

Your tongue tell the same story as your face,

Or teach your face the truth. If ever man

Was utterly devoured by love—that man are you:

So says your face. If ever man

Was arrant hypocrite—that man are you:

So says your tongue.

Lord H.Then is my tongue most false,

And my face true; for never yet man loved

As I do love—

Lady A.My cousin. I was sure

Of’t from the first. And here you two have loomed

About like ships at sea i’ the dark, afraid

To touch each other, lest you’d both go down!

And all this time you have been standing here,

Loving my cousin fast as your blood beat,

And faster, heating it by throbs, yet not

One word could I, in jest or earnest, wring

From you. Stay here; and stir not, for your life,

’Till I come back.

Lord H.’Twere proper punishment

To sing me in a ballad through the streets!

She’ll tell her cousin what a hero ’tis

Who cannot do his wooing for himself!

I wish my eyes that saw her cousin had

Been blind, and my tongue dumb ere it betray’d me.

What little hope I had of Edith’s heart

Is gone. That I should talk to others of

My love, and not to her; I, too, who fear’d

To talk with her alone—or look at her.

I hardly know the colour of her eyes!

She’ll turn from me in scorn—or laugh at me—

I’ll leave the house. They’re coming this way. Not

For a king’s ransom would I see her now!

Lady A. Now raise your eyes, and look at him. See where

He stands dissolved in grief. Why, you’re as bad

As he. Oh! this is piteous work between ye!

’Twill be but proper in you, cousin, now

He has spoken, to give the man an answer:

Thus—if you care not for him, say as much.

If people choose to fall in love with you

Against your will, why ’tis no fault of yours.

Of course, he’ll fling himself upon his knees,

And rant like mad; that’s nothing—you don’t like him—

I see that by the way you tremble—tell

Him so, and there’s an end. (Aside.) Good speed to both!

Edith. Nay, Alice, listen to me! I’m alone

With him. What shall I do? Was that his foot?

How strange it is. He does not speak—nor stir.

Lord H. (Aside.) Now dare I speak to her!

Edith.He’s moving.

Lord H.Edith!

Edith. Ah! that’s his voice.

Lord H.How shall I sue for pardon?

Edith. (Aside.) What’s to be done? My lord!—

Lord H.Your cousin—she

Has told you all. Forgive me—

Edith.What should I

Forgive?

Lord H.That I should dare to—

Edith.No—don’t speak—

Or think—think—what it is you risk in speaking—

I pray you let me have my hand again.

Lord H. ’Tis free. But I have thought so long—so long

Have feared to speak—

Edith.’Tis better still to keep

Thy thought till thou art more assured.

Lord H.I see

The end. You answer and reject ere I

Have spoken.

Edith.No—not that.

Lord H.Then what the risk

Of uttering my thought?

Edith.The thought that’s shut

In darkness in the heart is yet our own;

The spring that prisons it is at our own

Control; but once unlocked our power is gone—

Our being changed—our life’s another’s; once

Released, it wings into the future, past

Recall, to shape and sway our fortunes to the close.

Lord H. ’Tis love’s true mission and abiding power

You paint so well. You make me bold to speak.

To say I love—oh! poor and feeble words!

Say that I breathe, or walk—who should divine

From thence the organic miracle of life?

To say, I love you! were as vain a phrase

To express the vital passion that consumes

My soul. Nay, turn not from me. Let me have

At least your pardon. Thou art too noble not

To yield a frank response.

Edith.It shall be frank.

This feeling has grown up in solitude,

And fill’d an idle waste of years, through which

No rival object rose to test its strength.

Be wise. Go forth into the world. Compare,

Reflect, and then be true, not to thy fancy,

But thyself. Take counsel, stern though it be,

Of time, and a more searching knowledge of

Thy heart.

Lord H.’Twere but to find thy image there,

Where none but thine can ever entrance make.

Love that has quicken’d in a genial soil,

With each revolving season strikes its roots

The deeper. Time! ’Twill only make me love

Thee more.

Edith.Again—be sure! while yet there’s space

To act.

Lord H.It is too late. Never again

Can we be to each other what we were.

I have confess’d, and all is changed between us.

We cannot meet, or speak, as we have done.

I cannot look at thee, and, silent, trace

Sweet mystery in thine eyes, too conscious now