When I have won you and may worship you, Oh, Mildred, can you say "this will not be?" Mil. Sin has surprised us; so will punishment. Mer. No-me alone, who sinned alone! Mil.
You likened our past life to-was it storm Throughout to you then, Henry?
I spoke what am I, what my life, to waste
A thought about when you are by me?—you It was, I said my folly called the storm
And pulled the night upon.-'Twas day with me- Perpetual dawn with me.
Oh, what is over? what must I live thro'
And say, "'tis over?" Is our meeting over? Have I received in presence of them all The partner of my guilty love,-with brow
Trying to seem a maiden's brow-with lips Which make believe that when they strive to form Replies to you and tremble as they strive,
It is the nearest ever they approached
A stranger's.. Henry, yours that stranger's... lip- With cheek that looks a virgin's, and that is ...
Ah, God! some prodigy of thine will stop This planned piece of deliberate wickedness In its birth even-some fierce leprous spot Will mar the brow's dissimulating-I Shall murmur no smooth speeches got by heart, But, frenzied, pour forth all our woeful story, The love, the shame, and the despair-with them Round me aghast as men round some cursed fount That should spirt water, and spouts blood. I'll not Henry, you do not wish that I should draw This vengeance down? I'll not affect a grace That's gone from me-gone once, and gone forever! Mer. Mildred, my honour is your own. Disgrace I cannot suffer by myself.
A word informs your brother I retract
This morning's offer; time will yet bring forth Some better way of saving both of us.
Mil. I'll meet their faces, Mertoun ! Mer.
Oh, Henry, not to-morrow!
Next day! I never shall prepare my words
And looks and gestures sooner!-How you must Despise me!
Mildred, break it if you choose,
A heart the love of you uplifted-still
Uplifts, thro' this protracted agony,
To Heaven! but, Mildred, answer me,-first pace The chamber with me-once again—now, say Calmly the part, the . . what it is of me You see contempt (for you did say contempt) -Contempt for you in! I would pluck it off And cast it from me!—but no-no, you'll not Repeat that?—will you, Mildred, repeat that? Mil. Dear Henry-
I was scarce a boy-e'en now What am I more? And you were infantine When first I met you-why, your hair fell loose On either side!—-my fool's cheek reddens now Only in the recalling how it burned
That morn to see the shape of many a dream
-You know we boys are prodigal of charms
To her we dream of-I had heard of one,
Had dreamed of her, and I was close to her, Might speak to her, might live and die her own, Who knew?—I spoke—Oh, Mildred, feel you not That now, while I remember every glance
Of yours, each word of yours, with power to test And weigh them in the diamond scales of Pride, Resolved the treasure of a first and last Heart's love shall have been bartered at its worth, -That now I think upon your purity And utter ignorance of guilt-your own Or other's guilt-the girlish undisguised Delight at a strange novel prize-(I talk
A silly language, but interpret, you!) If I, with fancy at its full, and reason Scarce in its germ, enjoined you secrecy, If you had pity on my passion, pity On my protested sickness of the soul
To sit beside you, hear you breathe, and watch Your eyelids and the eyes beneath-if you Accorded gifts and knew not they were gifts- If I grew mad at last with enterprise
And must behold my beauty in her bower Or perish-(I was ignorant of even
My own desires-what then were you?) if sorrow- Sin-if the end came-must I now renounce
My reason, blind myself to light, say truth Is false and lie to God and my own soul? Contempt were all of this!
Or, Henry, I'll not wrong you—you believe That I was ignorant. I scarce grieve o'er
The past! We'll love on-you will love me still! Mer. Oh, to love less what one has injured! Dove, Whose pinion I have rashly hurt, my breast- Shall my heart's warmth not nurse thee into strength? Flower I have crushed, shall I not care for thee? Bloom o'er my crest my fight-mark and device! Mildred, I love you and you love me!
Be that your last word. I shall sleep to-night. Mer. This is not our last meeting?
Then, no sweet courtship days,
Mer. And then-think, then!
No dawning consciousness of love for us,
No strange and palpitating births of sense
From words and looks, no innocent fears and hopes, Reserves and confidences: morning's over!
Mer. How else should love's perfected noontide
All the dawn promised shall the day perform.
Are sure that unobserved you scaled the walls?
Mer. Oh, trust me! Then our final meeting's fixed? To-morrow night?
Farewell! Stay, Henry.. wherefore?
His foot is on the yew-tree bough-the turf Receives him-now the moonlight as he runs Embraces him-but he must go—is gone- Ah, once again he turns-thanks, thanks, my love! He's gone-Oh I'll believe him every word!
I was so young-I loved him so
No mother-God forgot me-and I fell. There may be pardon yet-all's doubt beyond.
Surely the bitterness of death is past!
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