Chapter 138

The man who knelt starts up from kneeling, standsMoving no muscle, and confronts the stare.One great red outbreak buries—throat and brow—The lady's proud pale queenliness of scorn:Then her great eyes that turned so quick, becomeIntenser:—quail at gaze, not they indeed!VIt is the young man shatters silence first."Well, my lord—for indeed my lord you are,I little guessed how rightly—this last proofOf lordship-paramount confounds too muchMy simple headpiece! Let's see how we standEach to the other! how we stood i' the gameOf life an hour ago,—the magpies, stile,And oak-tree witnessed. Truth exchanged for truth—My lord confessed his four-years-old affair—How he seduced and then forsook the girlWho married somebody and left him sad.My pitiful experience was—I lovedA girl whose gown's hem had I dared to touchMy finger would have failed me, palsy-fixed.She left me, sad enough, to marry—whom?A better man,—then possibly not you!How does the game stand? Who is who and whatIs what, o' the board now, since an hour went by?My lord 's 'seduced,forsaken,sacrificed,'Starts up, my lord's familiar instrument,Associate and accomplice, mistress-slave—Shares his adventure, follows on the sly!—Ay, and since 'bag and baggage' is a phrase—Baggage lay hid in carpet-bag belike,Was but unpadlocked when occasion cameFor holding council, since my back was turned,On how invent ten thousand pounds which, paid,Would lure the winner to lose twenty more,Beside refunding these! Why else allowThe fool to gain them? So displays herselfThe lady whom my heart believed—oh, laugh!Noble and pure: whom my heart loved at once,And who at once did speak truth when she said'I am not mine now but another's'—thusBeing that other's! Devil's-marriage, eh?'My lie weds thine till lucre us do part?'But pity me the snobbish simpleton,You two aristocratic tiptop swellsAt swindling! Quits, I cry! Decamp contentWith skin I 'm peeled of: do not strip bones bare—As that you could, I have no doubt at all!O you two rare ones! Male and female, Sir!The male there smirked, this morning, 'Come, my boy—Out with it! You've been crossed in love, I think:I recognize the lover's hangdog look;Make a clean breast and match my confidence,For, I'll be frank, I too have had my fling,Am punished for my fault, and smart enough!Where now the victim hides her head, God knows!'Here loomed her head, life-large, the devil knew!Look out, Salvini! Here 's your man, your match!He and I sat applauding, stall by stall,Last Monday—'Here 's Othello' was our word,'But where 's Iago?' Where? Why, there! And nowThe fellow-artist, female specimen—Oh, lady, you must needs describe yourself!He 's great in art, but you—how greater still—(If I can rightly, out of all I learned,Apply one bit of Latin that assures'Art means just art's concealment')—tower yourself!For he stands plainly visible henceforth—Liar and scamp: while you, in artistryProve so consummate—or I prove perhapsSo absolute an ass—that—either way—You still do seem to me who worshipped youAnd see you take the homage of this man,Your master, who played slave and knelt, no doubt,Before a mistress in his very craft ...Well, take the fact, I nor believe my eyes,Nor trust my understanding! Still you seemNoble and pure as when we had the talkUnder the tower, beneath the trees, that day.And there 's the key explains the secret: downHe knelt to ask your leave to rise a gradeI' the mystery of humbug: well he may!For how you beat him! Half an hour ago,I held your master for my best of friends;And now I hate him! Four years since, you seemedMy heart's one love: well, and you so remain!What 's he to you in craft?"She looks him through."My friend, 't is just that friendship have its turn—Interrogate thus me whom one, of foesThe worst, has questioned and is answered by.Take you as frank an answer! answers bothBegin alike so far, divergent soonWorld-wide—I own superiorityOver you, over him. As him I searched,So do you stand seen through and through by meWho, this time, proud, report your crystal shrinesA dewdrop, plain as amber prisons roundA spider in the hollow heart his house!Nowise are you that thing my fancy fearedWhen out you stepped on me, a minute since,—This man's confederate! no, you step not thusObsequiously at beck and call to helpAt need some second scheme, and supplementGuile by force, use my shame to pinion meFrom struggle and escape! I fancied that!Forgive me! Only by strange chance,—most strangeIn even this strange world,—you enter now,Obtain your knowledge. Me you have not wrongedWho never wronged you—least of all, my friend,That day beneath the College tower and trees,When I refused to say,—'not friend, but love!'Had I been found as free as air when firstWe met, I scarcely could have loved you. No—For where was that in you which claimed returnOf love? My eyes were all too weak to probeThis other's seeming, but that seeming lovedThe soul in me, and lied—I know too late!While your truth was truth: and I knew at onceMy power was just my beauty—bear the word—As I must bear, of all my qualities,To name the poorest one that serves my soulAnd simulates myself! So much in meYou loved, I know: the something that 's beneathHeard not your call,—uncalled, no answer comes!For, since in every love, or soon or late,Soul must awake and seek out soul for soul,Yours, overlooking mine then, would, some day,Take flight to find some other; so it proved—Missing me, you were ready for this man.I apprehend the whole relation: his—The soul wherein you saw your type of worthAt once, true object of your tribute. WellMight I refuse such half-heart's homage! LoveDivining, had assured you I no moreStand his participant in infamyThan you—I need no love to recognizeAs simply dupe and nowise fellow-cheat!Therefore accept one last friend's-word,—your friend's,All men's friend, save a felon's. Ravel outThe bad embroilment howsoe'er you may,Distribute as it please you praise or blameTo me—so you but fling this mockery far—Renounce this rag-and-feather hero-sham,This poodle clipt to pattern, lion-like!Throw him his thousands back, and lay to heartThe lesson I was sent,—if man discernedEver God's message,—just to teach. I judge—To far another issue than could dreamYour cousin,—younger, fairer, as befits—Who summoned me to judgment's exercise.I find you, save in folly, innocent.And in my verdict lies your fate; at choiceOf mine your cousin takes or leaves you. 'Take!'I bid her—for you tremble back to truth!She turns the scale,—one touch of the pure handShall so press down, emprison past relapseFarther vibration 'twixt veracity—That 's honest solid earth—and falsehood, theftAnd air, that 's one illusive emptiness!That reptile capture you? I conquered him:You saw him cower before me! Have no fearHe shall offend you farther. Spare to spurn—Safe let him slink hence till some subtler EveThan I, anticipate the snake—bruise headEre he bruise heel—or, warier than the first,Some Adam purge earth's garden of its pestBefore the slaver spoil the Tree of Life!"You! Leave this youth, as he leaves you, as ILeave each! There 's caution surely extant yetThough conscience in you were too vain a claim.Hence quickly! Keep the cash but leave unsoiledThe heart I rescue and would lay to healBeside another's! Never let her knowHow near came taint of your companionship!""Ah"—draws a long breath with a new strange lookThe man she interpellates—soul astirUnder its covert, as, beneath the dust,A coppery sparkle all at once denotesThe hid snake has conceived a purpose."Ah—Innocence should be crowned with ignorance?Desirable indeed, but difficult!As if yourself, now, had not glorifiedYour helpmate by imparting him a hintOf how a monster made the victim bleedEre crook and courage saved her—hint, I say,—Not the whole horror,—that were needless risk,—But just such inkling, fancy of the fact,As should suffice to qualify henceforthThe shepherd, when another lamb would stray,For warning ''Ware the wolf!' No doubt at all,Silence is generosity,—keeps wolfUnhunted by flock's warder! Excellent,Did—generous to me, mean—just to him!But, screening the deceiver, lamb were foundOutraging the deceitless! So,—he knows!And yet, unharmed I breathe—perchance, repent—Thanks to the mercifully-politic!""Ignorance is not innocence but sin—Witness yourself ignore what after-pangsPursue the plague-infected. MercifulAm I? Perhaps! the more contempt, the lessHatred; and who so worthy of contemptAs you that rest assured I cooled the spotI could not cure, by poisoning, forsooth,Whose hand I pressed there? Understand for onceThat, sick, of all the pains corroding meThis burnt the last and nowise least—the needOf simulating soundness. I resolved—No matter how the struggle tasked weak flesh—To hide the truth away as in a graveFrom—most of all—my husband: he nor knowsNor ever shall be made to know your part,My part, the devil's part,—I trust, God's partIn the foul matter. Saved, I yearn to saveAnd not destroy: and what destruction likeThe abolishing of faith in him, that's faithIn me as pure and true? Acquaint some childWho takes yon tree into his confidence,That, where he sleeps now, was a murder done,And that the grass which grows so thick, he thinks,Only to pillow him is product justOf what lies festering beneath! 'T is GodMust bear such secrets and disclose them. Man?The miserable thingIhave becomeBy dread acquaintance with my secret—you—That thing had he become by learningme—The miserable, whom his ignoranceWould wrongly call the wicked: ignoranceBeing, I hold, sin ever, small or great.No, he knows nothing!""He and I alikeAre bound to you for such discreetness, then.What if our talk should terminate awhile?Here is a gentleman to satisfy,Settle accounts with, pay ten thousand poundsBefore we part—as, by his face, I fear,Results from your appearance on the scene.Grant me a minute's parley with my friendWhich scarce admits of a third personage!The room from which you made your entry firstSo opportunely—still untenanted—What if you please return there? Just a wordTo my young friend first—then, a word to you,And you depart to fan away each flyFrom who, grass-pillowed, sleeps so sound at home!""So the old truth comes back! A wholesome change,—At last the altered eye, the rightful tone!But even to the truth that drops disguiseAnd stands forth grinning malice which but nowWhined so contritely—I refuse assentJust as to malice. I, once gone, come back?No, my lord! I enjoy the privilegeOf being absolutely loosed from youToo much—the knowledge that your power is nullWhich was omnipotence. A word of mouth,A wink of eye would have detained me once,Body and soul your slave; and now, thank God,Your fawningest of prayers, your frightfulestOf curses—neither would avail to turnMy footstep for a moment!""Prayer, then, triesNo such adventure. Let us cast aboutFor something novel in expedient: takeCommand,—what say you? I profess myselfOne fertile in resource. Commanding, then,I bid—not only wait there, but returnHere, where I want you! Disobey and—good!On your own head the peril!""Come!" breaks inThe boy with his good glowing face. "Shut up!None of this sort of thing while I stand here—Not to stand that! No bullying, I beg!I also am to leave you presentlyAnd never more set eyes upon your face—You won't mind that much; but—I tell you frank—I do mind having to remember thisFor your last word and deed—my friend who were!Bully a woman you have ruined, eh?Do you know,—I give credit all at onceTo all those stories everybody toldAnd nobody but I would disbelieve:They all seem likely now,—nay, certain, sure!I daresay you did cheat at cards that nightThe row was at the Club: 'sauter la coupe'—That was your 'cut,' for which your friends 'cut' you;While I, the booby, 'cut'—acquaintanceshipWith who so much as laughed when I said 'luck!'I daresay you had bets against the horseThey doctored at the Derby; little doubt,That fellow with the sister found you shirkHis challenge and did kick you like a ball,Just as the story went about! Enough:It only serves to show how well advised,Madam, you were in bidding such a foolAs I, go hang. You see how the mere sightAnd sound of you suffice to tumble downConviction topsy-turvy: no,—that 's false,—There 's no unknowing what one knows; and yetSuch is my folly that, in gratitudeFor ... well, I 'm stupid; but you seemed to wishI should know gently what I know, should slipSoftly from old to new, not break my neckBetween beliefs of what you were and are.Well then, for just the sake of such a wishTo cut no worse a figure than needs mustIn even eyes like mine, I 'd sacrificeBody and soul! But don't think danger—pray!—Menaces either! He do harm to us?Let me say 'us' this one time! You 'd allowI lent perhaps my hand to rid your earOf some cur's yelping—hand that 's fortified,Into the bargain, with a horsewhip? Oh,One crack and you shall see how curs decamp!—My lord, you know your losses and my gains.Pay me my money at the proper time!If cash be not forthcoming—well, yourselfHave taught me, and tried often, I 'll engage,The proper course: I post you at the Club,Pillory the defaulter. Crack, to-day,Shall, slash, to-morrow, slice through flesh and bone!There, Madam, you need mind no cur, I think!""Ah, what a gain to have an apt no lessThou grateful scholar! Nay, he brings to mindMy knowledge till he puts me to the blush,So long has it lain rusty! Post my name!That were indeed a wheal from whipcord! Whew!I wonder now if I could rummage out—Just to match weapons—some old scorpion-scourge!Madam, you hear my pupil, may applaudHis triumph o'er the master. I—no moreBully, since I 'm forbidden: but entreat—Wait and return—for my sake, no! but justTo save your own defender, should he chanceGet thwacked through awkward flourish of his thong.And what if—since all waiting 's weary work—I help the time pass 'twixt your exit nowAnd entry then? for—pastime proper—here 'sThe very thing, the Album, verse and proseTo make the laughing minutes launch away!Each of us must contribute. I 'll begin—'Hail, calm acclivity, salubrious spot!'I 'm confident I beat the bard,—for why?My young friend owns me an Iago—himConfessed, among the other qualities,A ready rhymer. Oh, he rhymed! Here goes!—Something to end with 'horsewhip!' No, that rhymeBeats me; there 's 'cowslip,' 'boltsprit,' nothing else!So, Tennyson take my benison,—verse for bard,Prose suits the gambler's book best! Dared and done!"Wherewith he dips pen, writes a line or two,Closes and clasps the cover, gives the book,Bowing the while, to her who hesitates,Turns half away, turns round again, at lastTakes it as you touch carrion, then retires.The door shuts fast the couple.VIWith a changeOf his whole manner, opens out at onceThe Adversary."Now, my friend, for you!You who, protected late, aggressive grown,Brandish, it seems, a weapon I must 'ware!Plain speech in me becomes respectableHenceforth because courageous; plainly, then—(Have lash well loose, hold handle tight and light!)Throughout my life's experience, you indulgedYourself and friend by passing in reviewSo courteously but now, I vainly searchTo find one record of a specimenSo perfect of the pure and simple foolAs this you furnish me. IngratitudeI lump with folly,—all 's one lot,—so—fool!Did I seek you or you seek me? Seek? sneakFor service to, and service you would style—And did style—godlike, scarce an hour ago!Fool, there again, yet not precisely thereFirst-rate in folly: since the hand you kissedDid pick you from the kennel, did plant firmYour footstep on the pathway, did persuadeYour awkward shamble to true gait and pace,Fit for the world you walk in. Once a-strutOn that firm pavement which your cowardiceWas for renouncing as a pitfall, nextCame need to clear your brains of their conceitThey cleverly could distinguish who was who,Whatever folk might tramp the thoroughfare.Men, now—familiarly you read them off,Each phiz at first sight! Oh, you had an eye!Who couched it? made you disappoint each foxEager to strip my gosling of his fluffSo golden as he cackled 'Goose trusts lamb'?'Ay, but I saved you—wolf defeated fox—Wanting to pick your bones myself?' then, wolfHas got the worst of it with goose for once.I, penniless, pay you ten thousand pounds(—No gesture, pray! I pay ere I depart!)And how you turn advantage to accountHere 's the example! Have I proved so wrongIn my peremptory 'debt must be discharged'?Oh, you laughed lovelily, were loth to leaveThe old friend out at elbows, pooh, a thingNot to be thought of! I must keep my cash,And you forget your generosity!Ha ha! I took your measure when I laughedMy laugh to that! First quarrel—nay, first faintPretence at taking umbrage—'Down with debt,Both interest and principal!—The Club,Exposure and expulsion!—stamp me out!'That 's the magnanimous magnificentRenunciation of advantage! Well,But whence and why did you take umbrage, Sir?Because your master, having made you knowSomewhat of men, was minded to advance,Expound you women, still a mystery!My pupil pottered with a cloud, on brow,A clod in breast: had loved, and vainly loved:Whence blight and blackness, just for all the worldAs Byron used to teach us boys. Thought I—'Quick rid him of that rubbish! Clear the cloud,And set the heart a-pulsing!'—heart, this time:'T was nothing but the head I doctored lateFor ignorance of Man; now heart 's to dose,Palsied by over-palpitation dueTo Woman-worship—so, to work at onceOn first avowal of the patient's ache!This morning you described your malady,—How you dared love a piece of virtue—lostTo reason, as the upshot showed: for scornFitly repaid your stupid arrogance;And, parting, you went two ways, she resumedHer path—perfection, while forlorn you pacedThe world that 's made for beasts like you and me.My remedy was—tell the fool the truth!Your paragon of purity had plumpedInto these arms at their first outspread—'fallenMy victim,' she prefers to turn the phrase—And, in exchange for that frank confidence,Asked for my whole life present and to come—Marriage: a thing uncovenanted for!Never so much as put in question! Life—Implied by marriage—throw that trifle inAnd round the bargain off, no otherwiseThan if, when we played cards, because you wonMy money you should also want my head!That, I demurred to: we but played 'for love'—She won my love; had she proposed for stakes,'Marriage,'—why, that 's for whist, a wiser game.Whereat she raved at me, as losers will,And went her way. So far the story 's known,The remedy 's applied, no farther—whichHere 's the sick man's firsthonorariumfor—Posting his medicine-monger at the Club!That being, Sir, the whole you mean my fee—In gratitude for such munificenceI 'm bound in common honesty to spareNo droplet of the draught: so,—pinch your nose,Pull no wry faces!—drain it to the dregs!I say 'She went off'—'went off,' you subjoin,'Since not to wedded bliss, as I supposed,Sure to some convent: solitude and peaceHelp her to hide the shame from mortal view,With prayer and fasting.' No, my sapient Sir!Far wiselier, straightway she betook herselfTo a prize-portent from the donkey-showOf leathern long-ears that compete for palmIn clerical absurdity: since he,Good ass, nor practises the shaving-trick,The candle-crotchet, nonsense which repaysWhen you 've young ladies congregant,—but schoolsThe poor,—toils, moils, and grinds the mill, nor meansTo stop and munch one thistle in this lifeTill next life smother him with roses: justThe parson for her purpose! Him she strokedOver the muzzle; into mouth with bit,And on to back with saddle,—there he stood,The serviceable beast who heard, believedAnd meekly bowed him to the burden,—borneOff in a canter to seclusion—ay,The lady 's lost! But had a friend of mine—While friend he was—imparted his sad caseTo sympathizing counsellor, full soonOne cloud at least had vanished from his brow.'Don't fear!' had followed reassuringly—The lost will in due time turn up again,Probably just when, weary of the world,You think of nothing less than settling-downTo country life and golden days, besideA dearest best and brightest virtuousestWife: who needs no more hope to hold her ownAgainst the naughty-and-repentant—no,Than water-gruel against Roman punch!'And as I prophesied, it proves! My youth,—Just at the happy moment when, subduedTo spooniness, he finds that youth fleets fast,That town-life tires, that men should drop boys'-play,That property, position have, no doubt,Their exigency with their privilege,And if the wealthy wed with wealth, how direThe double duty!—in, behold, there beamsOur long-lost lady, form and face complete!And where 's my moralizing pupil now,Had not his master missed a train by chance?But, by your side instead of whirled away,How have I spoiled scene, stopped catastrophe,Struck flat the stage-effect I know by heart!Sudden and strange the meeting—improvised?Bless you, the last event she hoped or dreamed!But rude sharp stroke will crush out fire from flint—Assuredly from flesh. ''T is you?' 'Myself!''Changed?' 'Changeless!' 'Then, what 's earth to me?' 'To meWhat 's heaven?' 'So,—thine!' 'And thine!' 'And likewise mine!'Had laughed 'Amen' the devil, but for meWhose intermeddling hinders this hot haste,And bids you, ere concluding contract, pause—Ponder one lesson more, then sign and sealAt leisure and at pleasure,—lesson's priceBeing, if you have skill to estimate,—How say you?—I 'm discharged my debt in full!Since paid you stand, to farthing uttermost,Unless I fare like that black majestyA friend of mine had visit from last Spring.Coasting along the Cape-side, he 's becalmedOff an uncharted bay, a novel townUntouched at by the trader: here 's a chance!Out paddles straight the king in his canoe,Comes over bulwark, says he means to buyShip's cargo—being rich and having broughtA treasure ample for the purpose. See!Four dragons, stalwart blackies, guard the sameWrapped round and round: its hulls, a multitude,—Palm-leaf and cocoa-mat and goat's-hair clothAll duly braced about with bark and board,—Suggest how brave, 'neath coat, must kernel be!At length the peeling is accomplished, plainThe casket opens out its core, and lo—A brand-new British silver sixpence—bidThat 's ample for the Bank,—thinks majesty!You are the Captain; call my sixpence crackedOr copper; 'what I 've said is calumny;The lady 's spotless!' Then,—I 'll prove my words,Or make you prove them true as truth—yourself,Here, on the instant! I 'll not mince my speech,Things at this issue. When she enters, then,Make love to her! No talk of marriage now—The point-blank bare proposal! Pick no phrase—Prevent all misconception! Soon you 'll seeHow different the tactics when she dealsWith an instructed man, no longer boyWho blushes like a booby. Woman's wit!Man, since you have instruction, blush no more!Such your five minutes' profit by my pains,'T is simply now,—demand and be possessed!Which means—you may possess—may strip the treeOf fruit desirable to make one wise!More I nor wish nor want: your act 's your act,My teaching is but—there 's the fruit to pluckOr let alone at pleasure. Next advanceIn knowledge were beyond you! Don't expectI bid a novice—pluck, suck, send sky-highSuch fruit, once taught that neither crab nor sloeFalls readier prey to who but robs a hedge,Than this gold apple to my Hercules.Were you no novice but proficient—then,Then, truly, I might prompt you—Touch and taste,Try flavor and be tired as soon as I!Toss on the prize to greedy mouths agape,Betake yours, sobered as the satiate grow,To wise man's solid meal of house and land,Consols and cousin! but, my boy, my boy,Such lore 's above you!Here 's the lady back!So, Madam, you have conned the Album-pageAnd come to thank its last contributor?How kind and condescending! I retireA moment, lest I spoil the interview,And mar my own endeavor to make friends—You with him, him with you, and both with me!If I succeed—permit me to inquireFive minutes hence! Friends bid good-by, you know."—And out he goes.VIIShe, face, form, bearing, oneSuperb composure—"He has told you all?Yes, he has told you all, your silence says—What gives him, as he thinks, the masteryOver my body and my soul!—has toldThat instance, even, of their servitudeHe now exacts of me? A silent blush!That 's well, though better would white ignoranceBeseem your brow, undesecrate before—Ay, when I left you! I too learn at last—Hideously learned as I seemed so late—What sin may swell to. Yes,—I needed learnThat, when my prophet's rod became the snakeI fled from, it would, one day, swallow up—Incorporate whatever serpentineFalsehood and treason and unmanlinessBeslime earth's pavement: such the power of Hell,And so beginning, ends no otherwiseThe Adversary! I was ignorant,Blameworthy—if you will; but blame I takeNowise upon me as I ask myself—You—how can you, whose soul I seemed to readThe limpid eyes through, have declined so deep,Even with him for consort? I revolveMuch memory, pry into the looks and wordsOf that day's walk beneath the College wall,And nowhere can distinguish, in what gleamsOnly pure marble through my dusky past,A dubious cranny where such poison-seedMight harbor, nourish what should yield to-dayThis dread ingredient for the cup I drink.Do not I recognize and honor truthIn seeming?—take your truth, and for return,Give you my truth, a no less precious gift?You loved me: I believed you. I replied—How could I other?—'I was not my own,'No longer had the eyes to see, the earsTo hear, the mind to judge, since heart and soulNow were another's. My own right in me,For well or ill, consigned away—my faceFronted the honest path, deflection whenceHad shamed me in the furtive backward lookAt the late bargain—fit such chapman's phrase!—As though—less hasty and more provident—Waiting had brought advantage. Not for meThe chapman's chance! Yet while thus much was true,I spared you—as I knew you then—one moreConcluding word which, truth no less, seemed bestBuried away forever. Take it now,Its power to pain is past! Four years—that day—Those limes that make the College avenue!I would that—friend and foe—by miracle,I had, that moment, seen into the heartOf either, as I now am taught to see!I do believe I should have straight assumedMy proper function, and sustained a soul,—Nor aimed at being just sustained myselfBy some man's soul—the weaker woman's-want!So had I missed the momentary thrillOf finding me in presence of a god,But gained the god's own feeling when he givesSuch thrill to what turns life from death before.'Gods many and Lords many,' says the Book:You would have yielded up your soul to me—Not to the false god who has burned its clayIn his own image. I had shed my loveLike Spring dew on the clod all flowery thence,Not sent up a wild vapor to the sunThat drinks and then disperses. Both of usBlameworthy,—I first meet my punishment—And not so hard to bear. I breathe again!Forth from those arms' enwinding leprosyAt last I struggle—uncontaminate:Why must I leaveyoupressing to the breastThat 's all one plague-spot? Did you love me once?Then take love's last and best return! I think,Womanliness means only motherhood;All love begins and ends there,—roams enough,But, having run the circle, rests at home.Why is your expiation yet to make?Pull shame with your own hands from your own headNow,—never wait the slow envelopmentSubmitted to by unelastic age!One fierce throe frees the sapling: flake on flakeLull till they leave the oak snow-stupefied.Your heart retains its vital warmth—or whyThat blushing reassurance? Blush, young blood!Break from beneath this icy prematureCaptivity of wickedness—I warnBack, in God's name! No fresh encroachment here!This May breaks all to bud—no winter now!Friend, we are both forgiven! Sin no more!I am past sin now, so shall you become!Meanwhile I testify that, lying once,My foe lied ever, most lied last of all.He, waking, whispered to your sense asleepThe wicked counsel,—and assent might seem;But, roused, your healthy indignation breaksThe idle dream-pact. You would die—not dareConfirm your dream-resolve,—nay, find the wordThat fits the deed to bear the light of day!Say I have justly judged you! then farewellTo blushing—nay, it ends in smiles, not tears!Why tears now? I have justly judged, thank God!"He does blush boy-like, but the man speaks out,—Makes the due effort to surmount himself."I don't know what he wrote—how should I? NorHow he could read my purpose, which, it seems,He chose to somehow write—mistakenlyOr else for mischief's sake. I scarce believeMy purpose put before you fair and plainWould need annoy so much; but there's my luck—From first to last I blunder. Still, one moreTurn at the target, try to speak my thought!Since he could guess my purpose, won't you readRight what he set down wrong? He said—let 's think!Ay, so!—he did begin by telling heapsOf tales about you. Now, you see—supposeAny one told me—my own mother diedBefore I knew her—told me—to his cost!—Such tales about my own dead mother: why,You would not wonder surely if I knew,By nothing but my own heart's help, he lied,Would you? No reason 's wanted in the case.So with you! In they burnt on me, his tales,Much as when madhouse-inmates crowd around,Make captive any visitor and screamAll sorts of stories of their keeper—he 'sBoth dwarf and giant, vulture, wolf, dog, cat,Serpent and scorpion, yet man all the same;Sane people soon see through the gibberish!I just made out, you somehow lived somewhereA life of shame—I can't distinguish more—Married or single—how, don't matter much:Shame which himself had caused—that point was clear,That fact confessed—that thing to hold and keep.Oh, and he added some absurdity—That you were here to make me—ha, ha, ha!—Still love you, still of mind to die for you,Ha, ha—as if that needed mighty pains!Now, foolish as ... but never mind myself;—What I am, what I am not, in the eyeOf the world, is what I never cared for much.Fool then or no fool, not one single wordIn the whole string of lies did I believe,But this—this only—if I choke, who cares?—I believe somehow in your purityPerfect as ever! Else what use is God?He is God, and work miracles he can!Then, what shall I do? Quite as clear, my course!They 've got a thing they call their LabyrinthI' the garden yonder: and my cousin playedA pretty trick once, led and lost me deepInside the briery maze of hedge round hedge;And there might I be staying now, stock-still,But that I laughing bade eyes follow noseAnd so straight pushed my path through let and stopAnd soon was out in the open, face all scratched,But well behind my back the prison-barsIn sorry plight enough, I promise you!So here: I won my way to truth through lies—Said, as I saw light,—if her shame be shameI 'll rescue and redeem her,—shame 's no shame?Then, I 'll avenge, protect—redeem myselfThe stupidest of sinners! Here I stand!Dear,—let me once dare call you so,—you said,Thus ought you to have done, four years ago,Such things and such! Ay, dear, and what ought I?You were revealed to me: where 's gratitude,Where 's memory even, where the gain of youDiscernible in my low after-lifeOf fancied consolation? why, no horseOnce fed on corn, will, missing corn, go munchMere thistles like a donkey! I missed you,And in your place found—him, made him my love,Ay, did I,—by this token, that he taughtSo much beast-nature that I meant ... God knowsWhether I bow me to the dust enough! ..To marry—yes, my cousin here! I hopeThat was a master-stroke! Take heart of hers,And give her hand of mine with no more heartThan now you see upon this brow I strike!What atom of a heart do I retainNot all yours? Dear, you know it! EasilyMay she accord me pardon when I placeMy brow beneath her foot, if foot so deign,Since uttermost indignity is spared—Mere marriage and no love! And all this timeNot one word to the purpose! Are you free?Only wait! only let me serve—deserveWhere you appoint and how you see the good!I have the will—perhaps the power—at leastMeans that have power against the world. For time—Take my whole life for your experiment!If you are bound—in marriage, say—why, still,Still, sure, there 's something for a friend to do,Outside? A mere well-wisher, understand!I 'll sit, my life long, at your gate, you know,Swing it wide open to let you and himPass freely,—and you need not look, much lessFling me a 'Thank you—are you there, old friend?'Don't say that even: I should drop like shot!So I feel now at least: some day, who knows?After no end of weeks and months and yearsYou might smile 'I believe you did your best!'And that shall make my heart leap—leap such leapAs lands the feet in Heaven to wait you there!Ah, there 's just one thing more! How pale you look!Why? Are you angry? If there 's, after all,Worst come to worst—if still there somehow beThe shame—I said was no shame,—none, I swear!—In that case, if my hand and what it holds,—My name,—might be your safeguard now—at once—Why, here 's the hand—you have the heart! Of course—No cheat, no binding you, because I'm bound,To let me off probation by one day,Week, month, year, lifetime! Prove as you propose!Here 's the hand with the name to take or leave!That 's all—and no great piece of news, I hope!"

The man who knelt starts up from kneeling, standsMoving no muscle, and confronts the stare.

The man who knelt starts up from kneeling, stands

Moving no muscle, and confronts the stare.

One great red outbreak buries—throat and brow—The lady's proud pale queenliness of scorn:Then her great eyes that turned so quick, becomeIntenser:—quail at gaze, not they indeed!

One great red outbreak buries—throat and brow—

The lady's proud pale queenliness of scorn:

Then her great eyes that turned so quick, become

Intenser:—quail at gaze, not they indeed!

It is the young man shatters silence first.

"Well, my lord—for indeed my lord you are,I little guessed how rightly—this last proofOf lordship-paramount confounds too muchMy simple headpiece! Let's see how we standEach to the other! how we stood i' the gameOf life an hour ago,—the magpies, stile,And oak-tree witnessed. Truth exchanged for truth—My lord confessed his four-years-old affair—How he seduced and then forsook the girlWho married somebody and left him sad.My pitiful experience was—I lovedA girl whose gown's hem had I dared to touchMy finger would have failed me, palsy-fixed.She left me, sad enough, to marry—whom?A better man,—then possibly not you!How does the game stand? Who is who and whatIs what, o' the board now, since an hour went by?My lord 's 'seduced,forsaken,sacrificed,'Starts up, my lord's familiar instrument,Associate and accomplice, mistress-slave—Shares his adventure, follows on the sly!—Ay, and since 'bag and baggage' is a phrase—Baggage lay hid in carpet-bag belike,Was but unpadlocked when occasion cameFor holding council, since my back was turned,On how invent ten thousand pounds which, paid,Would lure the winner to lose twenty more,Beside refunding these! Why else allowThe fool to gain them? So displays herselfThe lady whom my heart believed—oh, laugh!Noble and pure: whom my heart loved at once,And who at once did speak truth when she said'I am not mine now but another's'—thusBeing that other's! Devil's-marriage, eh?'My lie weds thine till lucre us do part?'But pity me the snobbish simpleton,You two aristocratic tiptop swellsAt swindling! Quits, I cry! Decamp contentWith skin I 'm peeled of: do not strip bones bare—As that you could, I have no doubt at all!O you two rare ones! Male and female, Sir!The male there smirked, this morning, 'Come, my boy—Out with it! You've been crossed in love, I think:I recognize the lover's hangdog look;Make a clean breast and match my confidence,For, I'll be frank, I too have had my fling,Am punished for my fault, and smart enough!Where now the victim hides her head, God knows!'Here loomed her head, life-large, the devil knew!Look out, Salvini! Here 's your man, your match!He and I sat applauding, stall by stall,Last Monday—'Here 's Othello' was our word,'But where 's Iago?' Where? Why, there! And nowThe fellow-artist, female specimen—Oh, lady, you must needs describe yourself!He 's great in art, but you—how greater still—(If I can rightly, out of all I learned,Apply one bit of Latin that assures'Art means just art's concealment')—tower yourself!For he stands plainly visible henceforth—Liar and scamp: while you, in artistryProve so consummate—or I prove perhapsSo absolute an ass—that—either way—You still do seem to me who worshipped youAnd see you take the homage of this man,Your master, who played slave and knelt, no doubt,Before a mistress in his very craft ...Well, take the fact, I nor believe my eyes,Nor trust my understanding! Still you seemNoble and pure as when we had the talkUnder the tower, beneath the trees, that day.And there 's the key explains the secret: downHe knelt to ask your leave to rise a gradeI' the mystery of humbug: well he may!For how you beat him! Half an hour ago,I held your master for my best of friends;And now I hate him! Four years since, you seemedMy heart's one love: well, and you so remain!What 's he to you in craft?"

"Well, my lord—for indeed my lord you are,

I little guessed how rightly—this last proof

Of lordship-paramount confounds too much

My simple headpiece! Let's see how we stand

Each to the other! how we stood i' the game

Of life an hour ago,—the magpies, stile,

And oak-tree witnessed. Truth exchanged for truth—

My lord confessed his four-years-old affair—

How he seduced and then forsook the girl

Who married somebody and left him sad.

My pitiful experience was—I loved

A girl whose gown's hem had I dared to touch

My finger would have failed me, palsy-fixed.

She left me, sad enough, to marry—whom?

A better man,—then possibly not you!

How does the game stand? Who is who and what

Is what, o' the board now, since an hour went by?

My lord 's 'seduced,forsaken,sacrificed,'

Starts up, my lord's familiar instrument,

Associate and accomplice, mistress-slave—

Shares his adventure, follows on the sly!

—Ay, and since 'bag and baggage' is a phrase—

Baggage lay hid in carpet-bag belike,

Was but unpadlocked when occasion came

For holding council, since my back was turned,

On how invent ten thousand pounds which, paid,

Would lure the winner to lose twenty more,

Beside refunding these! Why else allow

The fool to gain them? So displays herself

The lady whom my heart believed—oh, laugh!

Noble and pure: whom my heart loved at once,

And who at once did speak truth when she said

'I am not mine now but another's'—thus

Being that other's! Devil's-marriage, eh?

'My lie weds thine till lucre us do part?'

But pity me the snobbish simpleton,

You two aristocratic tiptop swells

At swindling! Quits, I cry! Decamp content

With skin I 'm peeled of: do not strip bones bare—

As that you could, I have no doubt at all!

O you two rare ones! Male and female, Sir!

The male there smirked, this morning, 'Come, my boy—

Out with it! You've been crossed in love, I think:

I recognize the lover's hangdog look;

Make a clean breast and match my confidence,

For, I'll be frank, I too have had my fling,

Am punished for my fault, and smart enough!

Where now the victim hides her head, God knows!'

Here loomed her head, life-large, the devil knew!

Look out, Salvini! Here 's your man, your match!

He and I sat applauding, stall by stall,

Last Monday—'Here 's Othello' was our word,

'But where 's Iago?' Where? Why, there! And now

The fellow-artist, female specimen—

Oh, lady, you must needs describe yourself!

He 's great in art, but you—how greater still

—(If I can rightly, out of all I learned,

Apply one bit of Latin that assures

'Art means just art's concealment')—tower yourself!

For he stands plainly visible henceforth—

Liar and scamp: while you, in artistry

Prove so consummate—or I prove perhaps

So absolute an ass—that—either way—

You still do seem to me who worshipped you

And see you take the homage of this man,

Your master, who played slave and knelt, no doubt,

Before a mistress in his very craft ...

Well, take the fact, I nor believe my eyes,

Nor trust my understanding! Still you seem

Noble and pure as when we had the talk

Under the tower, beneath the trees, that day.

And there 's the key explains the secret: down

He knelt to ask your leave to rise a grade

I' the mystery of humbug: well he may!

For how you beat him! Half an hour ago,

I held your master for my best of friends;

And now I hate him! Four years since, you seemed

My heart's one love: well, and you so remain!

What 's he to you in craft?"

She looks him through.

"My friend, 't is just that friendship have its turn—Interrogate thus me whom one, of foesThe worst, has questioned and is answered by.Take you as frank an answer! answers bothBegin alike so far, divergent soonWorld-wide—I own superiorityOver you, over him. As him I searched,So do you stand seen through and through by meWho, this time, proud, report your crystal shrinesA dewdrop, plain as amber prisons roundA spider in the hollow heart his house!Nowise are you that thing my fancy fearedWhen out you stepped on me, a minute since,—This man's confederate! no, you step not thusObsequiously at beck and call to helpAt need some second scheme, and supplementGuile by force, use my shame to pinion meFrom struggle and escape! I fancied that!Forgive me! Only by strange chance,—most strangeIn even this strange world,—you enter now,Obtain your knowledge. Me you have not wrongedWho never wronged you—least of all, my friend,That day beneath the College tower and trees,When I refused to say,—'not friend, but love!'Had I been found as free as air when firstWe met, I scarcely could have loved you. No—For where was that in you which claimed returnOf love? My eyes were all too weak to probeThis other's seeming, but that seeming lovedThe soul in me, and lied—I know too late!While your truth was truth: and I knew at onceMy power was just my beauty—bear the word—As I must bear, of all my qualities,To name the poorest one that serves my soulAnd simulates myself! So much in meYou loved, I know: the something that 's beneathHeard not your call,—uncalled, no answer comes!For, since in every love, or soon or late,Soul must awake and seek out soul for soul,Yours, overlooking mine then, would, some day,Take flight to find some other; so it proved—Missing me, you were ready for this man.I apprehend the whole relation: his—The soul wherein you saw your type of worthAt once, true object of your tribute. WellMight I refuse such half-heart's homage! LoveDivining, had assured you I no moreStand his participant in infamyThan you—I need no love to recognizeAs simply dupe and nowise fellow-cheat!Therefore accept one last friend's-word,—your friend's,All men's friend, save a felon's. Ravel outThe bad embroilment howsoe'er you may,Distribute as it please you praise or blameTo me—so you but fling this mockery far—Renounce this rag-and-feather hero-sham,This poodle clipt to pattern, lion-like!Throw him his thousands back, and lay to heartThe lesson I was sent,—if man discernedEver God's message,—just to teach. I judge—To far another issue than could dreamYour cousin,—younger, fairer, as befits—Who summoned me to judgment's exercise.I find you, save in folly, innocent.And in my verdict lies your fate; at choiceOf mine your cousin takes or leaves you. 'Take!'I bid her—for you tremble back to truth!She turns the scale,—one touch of the pure handShall so press down, emprison past relapseFarther vibration 'twixt veracity—That 's honest solid earth—and falsehood, theftAnd air, that 's one illusive emptiness!That reptile capture you? I conquered him:You saw him cower before me! Have no fearHe shall offend you farther. Spare to spurn—Safe let him slink hence till some subtler EveThan I, anticipate the snake—bruise headEre he bruise heel—or, warier than the first,Some Adam purge earth's garden of its pestBefore the slaver spoil the Tree of Life!

"My friend, 't is just that friendship have its turn—

Interrogate thus me whom one, of foes

The worst, has questioned and is answered by.

Take you as frank an answer! answers both

Begin alike so far, divergent soon

World-wide—I own superiority

Over you, over him. As him I searched,

So do you stand seen through and through by me

Who, this time, proud, report your crystal shrines

A dewdrop, plain as amber prisons round

A spider in the hollow heart his house!

Nowise are you that thing my fancy feared

When out you stepped on me, a minute since,

—This man's confederate! no, you step not thus

Obsequiously at beck and call to help

At need some second scheme, and supplement

Guile by force, use my shame to pinion me

From struggle and escape! I fancied that!

Forgive me! Only by strange chance,—most strange

In even this strange world,—you enter now,

Obtain your knowledge. Me you have not wronged

Who never wronged you—least of all, my friend,

That day beneath the College tower and trees,

When I refused to say,—'not friend, but love!'

Had I been found as free as air when first

We met, I scarcely could have loved you. No—

For where was that in you which claimed return

Of love? My eyes were all too weak to probe

This other's seeming, but that seeming loved

The soul in me, and lied—I know too late!

While your truth was truth: and I knew at once

My power was just my beauty—bear the word—

As I must bear, of all my qualities,

To name the poorest one that serves my soul

And simulates myself! So much in me

You loved, I know: the something that 's beneath

Heard not your call,—uncalled, no answer comes!

For, since in every love, or soon or late,

Soul must awake and seek out soul for soul,

Yours, overlooking mine then, would, some day,

Take flight to find some other; so it proved—

Missing me, you were ready for this man.

I apprehend the whole relation: his—

The soul wherein you saw your type of worth

At once, true object of your tribute. Well

Might I refuse such half-heart's homage! Love

Divining, had assured you I no more

Stand his participant in infamy

Than you—I need no love to recognize

As simply dupe and nowise fellow-cheat!

Therefore accept one last friend's-word,—your friend's,

All men's friend, save a felon's. Ravel out

The bad embroilment howsoe'er you may,

Distribute as it please you praise or blame

To me—so you but fling this mockery far—

Renounce this rag-and-feather hero-sham,

This poodle clipt to pattern, lion-like!

Throw him his thousands back, and lay to heart

The lesson I was sent,—if man discerned

Ever God's message,—just to teach. I judge—

To far another issue than could dream

Your cousin,—younger, fairer, as befits—

Who summoned me to judgment's exercise.

I find you, save in folly, innocent.

And in my verdict lies your fate; at choice

Of mine your cousin takes or leaves you. 'Take!'

I bid her—for you tremble back to truth!

She turns the scale,—one touch of the pure hand

Shall so press down, emprison past relapse

Farther vibration 'twixt veracity—

That 's honest solid earth—and falsehood, theft

And air, that 's one illusive emptiness!

That reptile capture you? I conquered him:

You saw him cower before me! Have no fear

He shall offend you farther. Spare to spurn—

Safe let him slink hence till some subtler Eve

Than I, anticipate the snake—bruise head

Ere he bruise heel—or, warier than the first,

Some Adam purge earth's garden of its pest

Before the slaver spoil the Tree of Life!

"You! Leave this youth, as he leaves you, as ILeave each! There 's caution surely extant yetThough conscience in you were too vain a claim.Hence quickly! Keep the cash but leave unsoiledThe heart I rescue and would lay to healBeside another's! Never let her knowHow near came taint of your companionship!"

"You! Leave this youth, as he leaves you, as I

Leave each! There 's caution surely extant yet

Though conscience in you were too vain a claim.

Hence quickly! Keep the cash but leave unsoiled

The heart I rescue and would lay to heal

Beside another's! Never let her know

How near came taint of your companionship!"

"Ah"—draws a long breath with a new strange lookThe man she interpellates—soul astirUnder its covert, as, beneath the dust,A coppery sparkle all at once denotesThe hid snake has conceived a purpose.

"Ah"—draws a long breath with a new strange look

The man she interpellates—soul astir

Under its covert, as, beneath the dust,

A coppery sparkle all at once denotes

The hid snake has conceived a purpose.

"Ah—Innocence should be crowned with ignorance?Desirable indeed, but difficult!As if yourself, now, had not glorifiedYour helpmate by imparting him a hintOf how a monster made the victim bleedEre crook and courage saved her—hint, I say,—Not the whole horror,—that were needless risk,—But just such inkling, fancy of the fact,As should suffice to qualify henceforthThe shepherd, when another lamb would stray,For warning ''Ware the wolf!' No doubt at all,Silence is generosity,—keeps wolfUnhunted by flock's warder! Excellent,Did—generous to me, mean—just to him!But, screening the deceiver, lamb were foundOutraging the deceitless! So,—he knows!And yet, unharmed I breathe—perchance, repent—Thanks to the mercifully-politic!"

"Ah—

Innocence should be crowned with ignorance?

Desirable indeed, but difficult!

As if yourself, now, had not glorified

Your helpmate by imparting him a hint

Of how a monster made the victim bleed

Ere crook and courage saved her—hint, I say,—

Not the whole horror,—that were needless risk,—

But just such inkling, fancy of the fact,

As should suffice to qualify henceforth

The shepherd, when another lamb would stray,

For warning ''Ware the wolf!' No doubt at all,

Silence is generosity,—keeps wolf

Unhunted by flock's warder! Excellent,

Did—generous to me, mean—just to him!

But, screening the deceiver, lamb were found

Outraging the deceitless! So,—he knows!

And yet, unharmed I breathe—perchance, repent—

Thanks to the mercifully-politic!"

"Ignorance is not innocence but sin—Witness yourself ignore what after-pangsPursue the plague-infected. MercifulAm I? Perhaps! the more contempt, the lessHatred; and who so worthy of contemptAs you that rest assured I cooled the spotI could not cure, by poisoning, forsooth,Whose hand I pressed there? Understand for onceThat, sick, of all the pains corroding meThis burnt the last and nowise least—the needOf simulating soundness. I resolved—No matter how the struggle tasked weak flesh—To hide the truth away as in a graveFrom—most of all—my husband: he nor knowsNor ever shall be made to know your part,My part, the devil's part,—I trust, God's partIn the foul matter. Saved, I yearn to saveAnd not destroy: and what destruction likeThe abolishing of faith in him, that's faithIn me as pure and true? Acquaint some childWho takes yon tree into his confidence,That, where he sleeps now, was a murder done,And that the grass which grows so thick, he thinks,Only to pillow him is product justOf what lies festering beneath! 'T is GodMust bear such secrets and disclose them. Man?The miserable thingIhave becomeBy dread acquaintance with my secret—you—That thing had he become by learningme—The miserable, whom his ignoranceWould wrongly call the wicked: ignoranceBeing, I hold, sin ever, small or great.No, he knows nothing!"

"Ignorance is not innocence but sin—

Witness yourself ignore what after-pangs

Pursue the plague-infected. Merciful

Am I? Perhaps! the more contempt, the less

Hatred; and who so worthy of contempt

As you that rest assured I cooled the spot

I could not cure, by poisoning, forsooth,

Whose hand I pressed there? Understand for once

That, sick, of all the pains corroding me

This burnt the last and nowise least—the need

Of simulating soundness. I resolved—

No matter how the struggle tasked weak flesh—

To hide the truth away as in a grave

From—most of all—my husband: he nor knows

Nor ever shall be made to know your part,

My part, the devil's part,—I trust, God's part

In the foul matter. Saved, I yearn to save

And not destroy: and what destruction like

The abolishing of faith in him, that's faith

In me as pure and true? Acquaint some child

Who takes yon tree into his confidence,

That, where he sleeps now, was a murder done,

And that the grass which grows so thick, he thinks,

Only to pillow him is product just

Of what lies festering beneath! 'T is God

Must bear such secrets and disclose them. Man?

The miserable thingIhave become

By dread acquaintance with my secret—you—

That thing had he become by learningme—

The miserable, whom his ignorance

Would wrongly call the wicked: ignorance

Being, I hold, sin ever, small or great.

No, he knows nothing!"

"He and I alikeAre bound to you for such discreetness, then.What if our talk should terminate awhile?Here is a gentleman to satisfy,Settle accounts with, pay ten thousand poundsBefore we part—as, by his face, I fear,Results from your appearance on the scene.Grant me a minute's parley with my friendWhich scarce admits of a third personage!The room from which you made your entry firstSo opportunely—still untenanted—What if you please return there? Just a wordTo my young friend first—then, a word to you,And you depart to fan away each flyFrom who, grass-pillowed, sleeps so sound at home!"

"He and I alike

Are bound to you for such discreetness, then.

What if our talk should terminate awhile?

Here is a gentleman to satisfy,

Settle accounts with, pay ten thousand pounds

Before we part—as, by his face, I fear,

Results from your appearance on the scene.

Grant me a minute's parley with my friend

Which scarce admits of a third personage!

The room from which you made your entry first

So opportunely—still untenanted—

What if you please return there? Just a word

To my young friend first—then, a word to you,

And you depart to fan away each fly

From who, grass-pillowed, sleeps so sound at home!"

"So the old truth comes back! A wholesome change,—At last the altered eye, the rightful tone!But even to the truth that drops disguiseAnd stands forth grinning malice which but nowWhined so contritely—I refuse assentJust as to malice. I, once gone, come back?No, my lord! I enjoy the privilegeOf being absolutely loosed from youToo much—the knowledge that your power is nullWhich was omnipotence. A word of mouth,A wink of eye would have detained me once,Body and soul your slave; and now, thank God,Your fawningest of prayers, your frightfulestOf curses—neither would avail to turnMy footstep for a moment!"

"So the old truth comes back! A wholesome change,—

At last the altered eye, the rightful tone!

But even to the truth that drops disguise

And stands forth grinning malice which but now

Whined so contritely—I refuse assent

Just as to malice. I, once gone, come back?

No, my lord! I enjoy the privilege

Of being absolutely loosed from you

Too much—the knowledge that your power is null

Which was omnipotence. A word of mouth,

A wink of eye would have detained me once,

Body and soul your slave; and now, thank God,

Your fawningest of prayers, your frightfulest

Of curses—neither would avail to turn

My footstep for a moment!"

"Prayer, then, triesNo such adventure. Let us cast aboutFor something novel in expedient: takeCommand,—what say you? I profess myselfOne fertile in resource. Commanding, then,I bid—not only wait there, but returnHere, where I want you! Disobey and—good!On your own head the peril!"

"Prayer, then, tries

No such adventure. Let us cast about

For something novel in expedient: take

Command,—what say you? I profess myself

One fertile in resource. Commanding, then,

I bid—not only wait there, but return

Here, where I want you! Disobey and—good!

On your own head the peril!"

"Come!" breaks inThe boy with his good glowing face. "Shut up!None of this sort of thing while I stand here—Not to stand that! No bullying, I beg!I also am to leave you presentlyAnd never more set eyes upon your face—You won't mind that much; but—I tell you frank—I do mind having to remember thisFor your last word and deed—my friend who were!Bully a woman you have ruined, eh?Do you know,—I give credit all at onceTo all those stories everybody toldAnd nobody but I would disbelieve:They all seem likely now,—nay, certain, sure!I daresay you did cheat at cards that nightThe row was at the Club: 'sauter la coupe'—That was your 'cut,' for which your friends 'cut' you;While I, the booby, 'cut'—acquaintanceshipWith who so much as laughed when I said 'luck!'I daresay you had bets against the horseThey doctored at the Derby; little doubt,That fellow with the sister found you shirkHis challenge and did kick you like a ball,Just as the story went about! Enough:It only serves to show how well advised,Madam, you were in bidding such a foolAs I, go hang. You see how the mere sightAnd sound of you suffice to tumble downConviction topsy-turvy: no,—that 's false,—There 's no unknowing what one knows; and yetSuch is my folly that, in gratitudeFor ... well, I 'm stupid; but you seemed to wishI should know gently what I know, should slipSoftly from old to new, not break my neckBetween beliefs of what you were and are.Well then, for just the sake of such a wishTo cut no worse a figure than needs mustIn even eyes like mine, I 'd sacrificeBody and soul! But don't think danger—pray!—Menaces either! He do harm to us?Let me say 'us' this one time! You 'd allowI lent perhaps my hand to rid your earOf some cur's yelping—hand that 's fortified,Into the bargain, with a horsewhip? Oh,One crack and you shall see how curs decamp!—My lord, you know your losses and my gains.Pay me my money at the proper time!If cash be not forthcoming—well, yourselfHave taught me, and tried often, I 'll engage,The proper course: I post you at the Club,Pillory the defaulter. Crack, to-day,Shall, slash, to-morrow, slice through flesh and bone!There, Madam, you need mind no cur, I think!"

"Come!" breaks in

The boy with his good glowing face. "Shut up!

None of this sort of thing while I stand here

—Not to stand that! No bullying, I beg!

I also am to leave you presently

And never more set eyes upon your face—

You won't mind that much; but—I tell you frank—

I do mind having to remember this

For your last word and deed—my friend who were!

Bully a woman you have ruined, eh?

Do you know,—I give credit all at once

To all those stories everybody told

And nobody but I would disbelieve:

They all seem likely now,—nay, certain, sure!

I daresay you did cheat at cards that night

The row was at the Club: 'sauter la coupe'—

That was your 'cut,' for which your friends 'cut' you;

While I, the booby, 'cut'—acquaintanceship

With who so much as laughed when I said 'luck!'

I daresay you had bets against the horse

They doctored at the Derby; little doubt,

That fellow with the sister found you shirk

His challenge and did kick you like a ball,

Just as the story went about! Enough:

It only serves to show how well advised,

Madam, you were in bidding such a fool

As I, go hang. You see how the mere sight

And sound of you suffice to tumble down

Conviction topsy-turvy: no,—that 's false,—

There 's no unknowing what one knows; and yet

Such is my folly that, in gratitude

For ... well, I 'm stupid; but you seemed to wish

I should know gently what I know, should slip

Softly from old to new, not break my neck

Between beliefs of what you were and are.

Well then, for just the sake of such a wish

To cut no worse a figure than needs must

In even eyes like mine, I 'd sacrifice

Body and soul! But don't think danger—pray!—

Menaces either! He do harm to us?

Let me say 'us' this one time! You 'd allow

I lent perhaps my hand to rid your ear

Of some cur's yelping—hand that 's fortified,

Into the bargain, with a horsewhip? Oh,

One crack and you shall see how curs decamp!—

My lord, you know your losses and my gains.

Pay me my money at the proper time!

If cash be not forthcoming—well, yourself

Have taught me, and tried often, I 'll engage,

The proper course: I post you at the Club,

Pillory the defaulter. Crack, to-day,

Shall, slash, to-morrow, slice through flesh and bone!

There, Madam, you need mind no cur, I think!"

"Ah, what a gain to have an apt no lessThou grateful scholar! Nay, he brings to mindMy knowledge till he puts me to the blush,So long has it lain rusty! Post my name!That were indeed a wheal from whipcord! Whew!I wonder now if I could rummage out—Just to match weapons—some old scorpion-scourge!Madam, you hear my pupil, may applaudHis triumph o'er the master. I—no moreBully, since I 'm forbidden: but entreat—Wait and return—for my sake, no! but justTo save your own defender, should he chanceGet thwacked through awkward flourish of his thong.And what if—since all waiting 's weary work—I help the time pass 'twixt your exit nowAnd entry then? for—pastime proper—here 'sThe very thing, the Album, verse and proseTo make the laughing minutes launch away!Each of us must contribute. I 'll begin—'Hail, calm acclivity, salubrious spot!'I 'm confident I beat the bard,—for why?My young friend owns me an Iago—himConfessed, among the other qualities,A ready rhymer. Oh, he rhymed! Here goes!—Something to end with 'horsewhip!' No, that rhymeBeats me; there 's 'cowslip,' 'boltsprit,' nothing else!So, Tennyson take my benison,—verse for bard,Prose suits the gambler's book best! Dared and done!"

"Ah, what a gain to have an apt no less

Thou grateful scholar! Nay, he brings to mind

My knowledge till he puts me to the blush,

So long has it lain rusty! Post my name!

That were indeed a wheal from whipcord! Whew!

I wonder now if I could rummage out

—Just to match weapons—some old scorpion-scourge!

Madam, you hear my pupil, may applaud

His triumph o'er the master. I—no more

Bully, since I 'm forbidden: but entreat—

Wait and return—for my sake, no! but just

To save your own defender, should he chance

Get thwacked through awkward flourish of his thong.

And what if—since all waiting 's weary work—

I help the time pass 'twixt your exit now

And entry then? for—pastime proper—here 's

The very thing, the Album, verse and prose

To make the laughing minutes launch away!

Each of us must contribute. I 'll begin—

'Hail, calm acclivity, salubrious spot!'

I 'm confident I beat the bard,—for why?

My young friend owns me an Iago—him

Confessed, among the other qualities,

A ready rhymer. Oh, he rhymed! Here goes!

—Something to end with 'horsewhip!' No, that rhyme

Beats me; there 's 'cowslip,' 'boltsprit,' nothing else!

So, Tennyson take my benison,—verse for bard,

Prose suits the gambler's book best! Dared and done!"

Wherewith he dips pen, writes a line or two,Closes and clasps the cover, gives the book,Bowing the while, to her who hesitates,Turns half away, turns round again, at lastTakes it as you touch carrion, then retires.The door shuts fast the couple.

Wherewith he dips pen, writes a line or two,

Closes and clasps the cover, gives the book,

Bowing the while, to her who hesitates,

Turns half away, turns round again, at last

Takes it as you touch carrion, then retires.

The door shuts fast the couple.

With a changeOf his whole manner, opens out at onceThe Adversary.

With a change

Of his whole manner, opens out at once

The Adversary.

"Now, my friend, for you!You who, protected late, aggressive grown,Brandish, it seems, a weapon I must 'ware!Plain speech in me becomes respectableHenceforth because courageous; plainly, then—(Have lash well loose, hold handle tight and light!)Throughout my life's experience, you indulgedYourself and friend by passing in reviewSo courteously but now, I vainly searchTo find one record of a specimenSo perfect of the pure and simple foolAs this you furnish me. IngratitudeI lump with folly,—all 's one lot,—so—fool!Did I seek you or you seek me? Seek? sneakFor service to, and service you would style—And did style—godlike, scarce an hour ago!Fool, there again, yet not precisely thereFirst-rate in folly: since the hand you kissedDid pick you from the kennel, did plant firmYour footstep on the pathway, did persuadeYour awkward shamble to true gait and pace,Fit for the world you walk in. Once a-strutOn that firm pavement which your cowardiceWas for renouncing as a pitfall, nextCame need to clear your brains of their conceitThey cleverly could distinguish who was who,Whatever folk might tramp the thoroughfare.Men, now—familiarly you read them off,Each phiz at first sight! Oh, you had an eye!Who couched it? made you disappoint each foxEager to strip my gosling of his fluffSo golden as he cackled 'Goose trusts lamb'?'Ay, but I saved you—wolf defeated fox—Wanting to pick your bones myself?' then, wolfHas got the worst of it with goose for once.I, penniless, pay you ten thousand pounds(—No gesture, pray! I pay ere I depart!)And how you turn advantage to accountHere 's the example! Have I proved so wrongIn my peremptory 'debt must be discharged'?Oh, you laughed lovelily, were loth to leaveThe old friend out at elbows, pooh, a thingNot to be thought of! I must keep my cash,And you forget your generosity!Ha ha! I took your measure when I laughedMy laugh to that! First quarrel—nay, first faintPretence at taking umbrage—'Down with debt,Both interest and principal!—The Club,Exposure and expulsion!—stamp me out!'That 's the magnanimous magnificentRenunciation of advantage! Well,But whence and why did you take umbrage, Sir?Because your master, having made you knowSomewhat of men, was minded to advance,Expound you women, still a mystery!My pupil pottered with a cloud, on brow,A clod in breast: had loved, and vainly loved:Whence blight and blackness, just for all the worldAs Byron used to teach us boys. Thought I—'Quick rid him of that rubbish! Clear the cloud,And set the heart a-pulsing!'—heart, this time:'T was nothing but the head I doctored lateFor ignorance of Man; now heart 's to dose,Palsied by over-palpitation dueTo Woman-worship—so, to work at onceOn first avowal of the patient's ache!This morning you described your malady,—How you dared love a piece of virtue—lostTo reason, as the upshot showed: for scornFitly repaid your stupid arrogance;And, parting, you went two ways, she resumedHer path—perfection, while forlorn you pacedThe world that 's made for beasts like you and me.My remedy was—tell the fool the truth!Your paragon of purity had plumpedInto these arms at their first outspread—'fallenMy victim,' she prefers to turn the phrase—And, in exchange for that frank confidence,Asked for my whole life present and to come—Marriage: a thing uncovenanted for!Never so much as put in question! Life—Implied by marriage—throw that trifle inAnd round the bargain off, no otherwiseThan if, when we played cards, because you wonMy money you should also want my head!That, I demurred to: we but played 'for love'—She won my love; had she proposed for stakes,'Marriage,'—why, that 's for whist, a wiser game.Whereat she raved at me, as losers will,And went her way. So far the story 's known,The remedy 's applied, no farther—whichHere 's the sick man's firsthonorariumfor—Posting his medicine-monger at the Club!That being, Sir, the whole you mean my fee—In gratitude for such munificenceI 'm bound in common honesty to spareNo droplet of the draught: so,—pinch your nose,Pull no wry faces!—drain it to the dregs!I say 'She went off'—'went off,' you subjoin,'Since not to wedded bliss, as I supposed,Sure to some convent: solitude and peaceHelp her to hide the shame from mortal view,With prayer and fasting.' No, my sapient Sir!Far wiselier, straightway she betook herselfTo a prize-portent from the donkey-showOf leathern long-ears that compete for palmIn clerical absurdity: since he,Good ass, nor practises the shaving-trick,The candle-crotchet, nonsense which repaysWhen you 've young ladies congregant,—but schoolsThe poor,—toils, moils, and grinds the mill, nor meansTo stop and munch one thistle in this lifeTill next life smother him with roses: justThe parson for her purpose! Him she strokedOver the muzzle; into mouth with bit,And on to back with saddle,—there he stood,The serviceable beast who heard, believedAnd meekly bowed him to the burden,—borneOff in a canter to seclusion—ay,The lady 's lost! But had a friend of mine—While friend he was—imparted his sad caseTo sympathizing counsellor, full soonOne cloud at least had vanished from his brow.'Don't fear!' had followed reassuringly—The lost will in due time turn up again,Probably just when, weary of the world,You think of nothing less than settling-downTo country life and golden days, besideA dearest best and brightest virtuousestWife: who needs no more hope to hold her ownAgainst the naughty-and-repentant—no,Than water-gruel against Roman punch!'And as I prophesied, it proves! My youth,—Just at the happy moment when, subduedTo spooniness, he finds that youth fleets fast,That town-life tires, that men should drop boys'-play,That property, position have, no doubt,Their exigency with their privilege,And if the wealthy wed with wealth, how direThe double duty!—in, behold, there beamsOur long-lost lady, form and face complete!And where 's my moralizing pupil now,Had not his master missed a train by chance?But, by your side instead of whirled away,How have I spoiled scene, stopped catastrophe,Struck flat the stage-effect I know by heart!Sudden and strange the meeting—improvised?Bless you, the last event she hoped or dreamed!But rude sharp stroke will crush out fire from flint—Assuredly from flesh. ''T is you?' 'Myself!''Changed?' 'Changeless!' 'Then, what 's earth to me?' 'To meWhat 's heaven?' 'So,—thine!' 'And thine!' 'And likewise mine!'Had laughed 'Amen' the devil, but for meWhose intermeddling hinders this hot haste,And bids you, ere concluding contract, pause—Ponder one lesson more, then sign and sealAt leisure and at pleasure,—lesson's priceBeing, if you have skill to estimate,—How say you?—I 'm discharged my debt in full!Since paid you stand, to farthing uttermost,Unless I fare like that black majestyA friend of mine had visit from last Spring.Coasting along the Cape-side, he 's becalmedOff an uncharted bay, a novel townUntouched at by the trader: here 's a chance!Out paddles straight the king in his canoe,Comes over bulwark, says he means to buyShip's cargo—being rich and having broughtA treasure ample for the purpose. See!Four dragons, stalwart blackies, guard the sameWrapped round and round: its hulls, a multitude,—Palm-leaf and cocoa-mat and goat's-hair clothAll duly braced about with bark and board,—Suggest how brave, 'neath coat, must kernel be!At length the peeling is accomplished, plainThe casket opens out its core, and lo—A brand-new British silver sixpence—bidThat 's ample for the Bank,—thinks majesty!You are the Captain; call my sixpence crackedOr copper; 'what I 've said is calumny;The lady 's spotless!' Then,—I 'll prove my words,Or make you prove them true as truth—yourself,Here, on the instant! I 'll not mince my speech,Things at this issue. When she enters, then,Make love to her! No talk of marriage now—The point-blank bare proposal! Pick no phrase—Prevent all misconception! Soon you 'll seeHow different the tactics when she dealsWith an instructed man, no longer boyWho blushes like a booby. Woman's wit!Man, since you have instruction, blush no more!Such your five minutes' profit by my pains,'T is simply now,—demand and be possessed!Which means—you may possess—may strip the treeOf fruit desirable to make one wise!More I nor wish nor want: your act 's your act,My teaching is but—there 's the fruit to pluckOr let alone at pleasure. Next advanceIn knowledge were beyond you! Don't expectI bid a novice—pluck, suck, send sky-highSuch fruit, once taught that neither crab nor sloeFalls readier prey to who but robs a hedge,Than this gold apple to my Hercules.Were you no novice but proficient—then,Then, truly, I might prompt you—Touch and taste,Try flavor and be tired as soon as I!Toss on the prize to greedy mouths agape,Betake yours, sobered as the satiate grow,To wise man's solid meal of house and land,Consols and cousin! but, my boy, my boy,Such lore 's above you!

"Now, my friend, for you!

You who, protected late, aggressive grown,

Brandish, it seems, a weapon I must 'ware!

Plain speech in me becomes respectable

Henceforth because courageous; plainly, then—

(Have lash well loose, hold handle tight and light!)

Throughout my life's experience, you indulged

Yourself and friend by passing in review

So courteously but now, I vainly search

To find one record of a specimen

So perfect of the pure and simple fool

As this you furnish me. Ingratitude

I lump with folly,—all 's one lot,—so—fool!

Did I seek you or you seek me? Seek? sneak

For service to, and service you would style—

And did style—godlike, scarce an hour ago!

Fool, there again, yet not precisely there

First-rate in folly: since the hand you kissed

Did pick you from the kennel, did plant firm

Your footstep on the pathway, did persuade

Your awkward shamble to true gait and pace,

Fit for the world you walk in. Once a-strut

On that firm pavement which your cowardice

Was for renouncing as a pitfall, next

Came need to clear your brains of their conceit

They cleverly could distinguish who was who,

Whatever folk might tramp the thoroughfare.

Men, now—familiarly you read them off,

Each phiz at first sight! Oh, you had an eye!

Who couched it? made you disappoint each fox

Eager to strip my gosling of his fluff

So golden as he cackled 'Goose trusts lamb'?

'Ay, but I saved you—wolf defeated fox—

Wanting to pick your bones myself?' then, wolf

Has got the worst of it with goose for once.

I, penniless, pay you ten thousand pounds

(—No gesture, pray! I pay ere I depart!)

And how you turn advantage to account

Here 's the example! Have I proved so wrong

In my peremptory 'debt must be discharged'?

Oh, you laughed lovelily, were loth to leave

The old friend out at elbows, pooh, a thing

Not to be thought of! I must keep my cash,

And you forget your generosity!

Ha ha! I took your measure when I laughed

My laugh to that! First quarrel—nay, first faint

Pretence at taking umbrage—'Down with debt,

Both interest and principal!—The Club,

Exposure and expulsion!—stamp me out!'

That 's the magnanimous magnificent

Renunciation of advantage! Well,

But whence and why did you take umbrage, Sir?

Because your master, having made you know

Somewhat of men, was minded to advance,

Expound you women, still a mystery!

My pupil pottered with a cloud, on brow,

A clod in breast: had loved, and vainly loved:

Whence blight and blackness, just for all the world

As Byron used to teach us boys. Thought I—

'Quick rid him of that rubbish! Clear the cloud,

And set the heart a-pulsing!'—heart, this time:

'T was nothing but the head I doctored late

For ignorance of Man; now heart 's to dose,

Palsied by over-palpitation due

To Woman-worship—so, to work at once

On first avowal of the patient's ache!

This morning you described your malady,—

How you dared love a piece of virtue—lost

To reason, as the upshot showed: for scorn

Fitly repaid your stupid arrogance;

And, parting, you went two ways, she resumed

Her path—perfection, while forlorn you paced

The world that 's made for beasts like you and me.

My remedy was—tell the fool the truth!

Your paragon of purity had plumped

Into these arms at their first outspread—'fallen

My victim,' she prefers to turn the phrase—

And, in exchange for that frank confidence,

Asked for my whole life present and to come—

Marriage: a thing uncovenanted for!

Never so much as put in question! Life—

Implied by marriage—throw that trifle in

And round the bargain off, no otherwise

Than if, when we played cards, because you won

My money you should also want my head!

That, I demurred to: we but played 'for love'—

She won my love; had she proposed for stakes,

'Marriage,'—why, that 's for whist, a wiser game.

Whereat she raved at me, as losers will,

And went her way. So far the story 's known,

The remedy 's applied, no farther—which

Here 's the sick man's firsthonorariumfor—

Posting his medicine-monger at the Club!

That being, Sir, the whole you mean my fee—

In gratitude for such munificence

I 'm bound in common honesty to spare

No droplet of the draught: so,—pinch your nose,

Pull no wry faces!—drain it to the dregs!

I say 'She went off'—'went off,' you subjoin,

'Since not to wedded bliss, as I supposed,

Sure to some convent: solitude and peace

Help her to hide the shame from mortal view,

With prayer and fasting.' No, my sapient Sir!

Far wiselier, straightway she betook herself

To a prize-portent from the donkey-show

Of leathern long-ears that compete for palm

In clerical absurdity: since he,

Good ass, nor practises the shaving-trick,

The candle-crotchet, nonsense which repays

When you 've young ladies congregant,—but schools

The poor,—toils, moils, and grinds the mill, nor means

To stop and munch one thistle in this life

Till next life smother him with roses: just

The parson for her purpose! Him she stroked

Over the muzzle; into mouth with bit,

And on to back with saddle,—there he stood,

The serviceable beast who heard, believed

And meekly bowed him to the burden,—borne

Off in a canter to seclusion—ay,

The lady 's lost! But had a friend of mine

—While friend he was—imparted his sad case

To sympathizing counsellor, full soon

One cloud at least had vanished from his brow.

'Don't fear!' had followed reassuringly—

The lost will in due time turn up again,

Probably just when, weary of the world,

You think of nothing less than settling-down

To country life and golden days, beside

A dearest best and brightest virtuousest

Wife: who needs no more hope to hold her own

Against the naughty-and-repentant—no,

Than water-gruel against Roman punch!'

And as I prophesied, it proves! My youth,—

Just at the happy moment when, subdued

To spooniness, he finds that youth fleets fast,

That town-life tires, that men should drop boys'-play,

That property, position have, no doubt,

Their exigency with their privilege,

And if the wealthy wed with wealth, how dire

The double duty!—in, behold, there beams

Our long-lost lady, form and face complete!

And where 's my moralizing pupil now,

Had not his master missed a train by chance?

But, by your side instead of whirled away,

How have I spoiled scene, stopped catastrophe,

Struck flat the stage-effect I know by heart!

Sudden and strange the meeting—improvised?

Bless you, the last event she hoped or dreamed!

But rude sharp stroke will crush out fire from flint—

Assuredly from flesh. ''T is you?' 'Myself!'

'Changed?' 'Changeless!' 'Then, what 's earth to me?' 'To me

What 's heaven?' 'So,—thine!' 'And thine!' 'And likewise mine!'

Had laughed 'Amen' the devil, but for me

Whose intermeddling hinders this hot haste,

And bids you, ere concluding contract, pause—

Ponder one lesson more, then sign and seal

At leisure and at pleasure,—lesson's price

Being, if you have skill to estimate,

—How say you?—I 'm discharged my debt in full!

Since paid you stand, to farthing uttermost,

Unless I fare like that black majesty

A friend of mine had visit from last Spring.

Coasting along the Cape-side, he 's becalmed

Off an uncharted bay, a novel town

Untouched at by the trader: here 's a chance!

Out paddles straight the king in his canoe,

Comes over bulwark, says he means to buy

Ship's cargo—being rich and having brought

A treasure ample for the purpose. See!

Four dragons, stalwart blackies, guard the same

Wrapped round and round: its hulls, a multitude,—

Palm-leaf and cocoa-mat and goat's-hair cloth

All duly braced about with bark and board,—

Suggest how brave, 'neath coat, must kernel be!

At length the peeling is accomplished, plain

The casket opens out its core, and lo

—A brand-new British silver sixpence—bid

That 's ample for the Bank,—thinks majesty!

You are the Captain; call my sixpence cracked

Or copper; 'what I 've said is calumny;

The lady 's spotless!' Then,—I 'll prove my words,

Or make you prove them true as truth—yourself,

Here, on the instant! I 'll not mince my speech,

Things at this issue. When she enters, then,

Make love to her! No talk of marriage now—

The point-blank bare proposal! Pick no phrase—

Prevent all misconception! Soon you 'll see

How different the tactics when she deals

With an instructed man, no longer boy

Who blushes like a booby. Woman's wit!

Man, since you have instruction, blush no more!

Such your five minutes' profit by my pains,

'T is simply now,—demand and be possessed!

Which means—you may possess—may strip the tree

Of fruit desirable to make one wise!

More I nor wish nor want: your act 's your act,

My teaching is but—there 's the fruit to pluck

Or let alone at pleasure. Next advance

In knowledge were beyond you! Don't expect

I bid a novice—pluck, suck, send sky-high

Such fruit, once taught that neither crab nor sloe

Falls readier prey to who but robs a hedge,

Than this gold apple to my Hercules.

Were you no novice but proficient—then,

Then, truly, I might prompt you—Touch and taste,

Try flavor and be tired as soon as I!

Toss on the prize to greedy mouths agape,

Betake yours, sobered as the satiate grow,

To wise man's solid meal of house and land,

Consols and cousin! but, my boy, my boy,

Such lore 's above you!

Here 's the lady back!So, Madam, you have conned the Album-pageAnd come to thank its last contributor?How kind and condescending! I retireA moment, lest I spoil the interview,And mar my own endeavor to make friends—You with him, him with you, and both with me!If I succeed—permit me to inquireFive minutes hence! Friends bid good-by, you know."—And out he goes.

Here 's the lady back!

So, Madam, you have conned the Album-page

And come to thank its last contributor?

How kind and condescending! I retire

A moment, lest I spoil the interview,

And mar my own endeavor to make friends—

You with him, him with you, and both with me!

If I succeed—permit me to inquire

Five minutes hence! Friends bid good-by, you know."—

And out he goes.

VII

She, face, form, bearing, oneSuperb composure—

She, face, form, bearing, one

Superb composure—

"He has told you all?Yes, he has told you all, your silence says—What gives him, as he thinks, the masteryOver my body and my soul!—has toldThat instance, even, of their servitudeHe now exacts of me? A silent blush!That 's well, though better would white ignoranceBeseem your brow, undesecrate before—Ay, when I left you! I too learn at last—Hideously learned as I seemed so late—What sin may swell to. Yes,—I needed learnThat, when my prophet's rod became the snakeI fled from, it would, one day, swallow up—Incorporate whatever serpentineFalsehood and treason and unmanlinessBeslime earth's pavement: such the power of Hell,And so beginning, ends no otherwiseThe Adversary! I was ignorant,Blameworthy—if you will; but blame I takeNowise upon me as I ask myself—You—how can you, whose soul I seemed to readThe limpid eyes through, have declined so deep,Even with him for consort? I revolveMuch memory, pry into the looks and wordsOf that day's walk beneath the College wall,And nowhere can distinguish, in what gleamsOnly pure marble through my dusky past,A dubious cranny where such poison-seedMight harbor, nourish what should yield to-dayThis dread ingredient for the cup I drink.Do not I recognize and honor truthIn seeming?—take your truth, and for return,Give you my truth, a no less precious gift?You loved me: I believed you. I replied—How could I other?—'I was not my own,'No longer had the eyes to see, the earsTo hear, the mind to judge, since heart and soulNow were another's. My own right in me,For well or ill, consigned away—my faceFronted the honest path, deflection whenceHad shamed me in the furtive backward lookAt the late bargain—fit such chapman's phrase!—As though—less hasty and more provident—Waiting had brought advantage. Not for meThe chapman's chance! Yet while thus much was true,I spared you—as I knew you then—one moreConcluding word which, truth no less, seemed bestBuried away forever. Take it now,Its power to pain is past! Four years—that day—Those limes that make the College avenue!I would that—friend and foe—by miracle,I had, that moment, seen into the heartOf either, as I now am taught to see!I do believe I should have straight assumedMy proper function, and sustained a soul,—Nor aimed at being just sustained myselfBy some man's soul—the weaker woman's-want!So had I missed the momentary thrillOf finding me in presence of a god,But gained the god's own feeling when he givesSuch thrill to what turns life from death before.'Gods many and Lords many,' says the Book:You would have yielded up your soul to me—Not to the false god who has burned its clayIn his own image. I had shed my loveLike Spring dew on the clod all flowery thence,Not sent up a wild vapor to the sunThat drinks and then disperses. Both of usBlameworthy,—I first meet my punishment—And not so hard to bear. I breathe again!Forth from those arms' enwinding leprosyAt last I struggle—uncontaminate:Why must I leaveyoupressing to the breastThat 's all one plague-spot? Did you love me once?Then take love's last and best return! I think,Womanliness means only motherhood;All love begins and ends there,—roams enough,But, having run the circle, rests at home.Why is your expiation yet to make?Pull shame with your own hands from your own headNow,—never wait the slow envelopmentSubmitted to by unelastic age!One fierce throe frees the sapling: flake on flakeLull till they leave the oak snow-stupefied.Your heart retains its vital warmth—or whyThat blushing reassurance? Blush, young blood!Break from beneath this icy prematureCaptivity of wickedness—I warnBack, in God's name! No fresh encroachment here!This May breaks all to bud—no winter now!Friend, we are both forgiven! Sin no more!I am past sin now, so shall you become!Meanwhile I testify that, lying once,My foe lied ever, most lied last of all.He, waking, whispered to your sense asleepThe wicked counsel,—and assent might seem;But, roused, your healthy indignation breaksThe idle dream-pact. You would die—not dareConfirm your dream-resolve,—nay, find the wordThat fits the deed to bear the light of day!Say I have justly judged you! then farewellTo blushing—nay, it ends in smiles, not tears!Why tears now? I have justly judged, thank God!"

"He has told you all?

Yes, he has told you all, your silence says—

What gives him, as he thinks, the mastery

Over my body and my soul!—has told

That instance, even, of their servitude

He now exacts of me? A silent blush!

That 's well, though better would white ignorance

Beseem your brow, undesecrate before—

Ay, when I left you! I too learn at last

—Hideously learned as I seemed so late—

What sin may swell to. Yes,—I needed learn

That, when my prophet's rod became the snake

I fled from, it would, one day, swallow up

—Incorporate whatever serpentine

Falsehood and treason and unmanliness

Beslime earth's pavement: such the power of Hell,

And so beginning, ends no otherwise

The Adversary! I was ignorant,

Blameworthy—if you will; but blame I take

Nowise upon me as I ask myself

—You—how can you, whose soul I seemed to read

The limpid eyes through, have declined so deep,

Even with him for consort? I revolve

Much memory, pry into the looks and words

Of that day's walk beneath the College wall,

And nowhere can distinguish, in what gleams

Only pure marble through my dusky past,

A dubious cranny where such poison-seed

Might harbor, nourish what should yield to-day

This dread ingredient for the cup I drink.

Do not I recognize and honor truth

In seeming?—take your truth, and for return,

Give you my truth, a no less precious gift?

You loved me: I believed you. I replied

—How could I other?—'I was not my own,'

No longer had the eyes to see, the ears

To hear, the mind to judge, since heart and soul

Now were another's. My own right in me,

For well or ill, consigned away—my face

Fronted the honest path, deflection whence

Had shamed me in the furtive backward look

At the late bargain—fit such chapman's phrase!—

As though—less hasty and more provident—

Waiting had brought advantage. Not for me

The chapman's chance! Yet while thus much was true,

I spared you—as I knew you then—one more

Concluding word which, truth no less, seemed best

Buried away forever. Take it now,

Its power to pain is past! Four years—that day—

Those limes that make the College avenue!

I would that—friend and foe—by miracle,

I had, that moment, seen into the heart

Of either, as I now am taught to see!

I do believe I should have straight assumed

My proper function, and sustained a soul,

—Nor aimed at being just sustained myself

By some man's soul—the weaker woman's-want!

So had I missed the momentary thrill

Of finding me in presence of a god,

But gained the god's own feeling when he gives

Such thrill to what turns life from death before.

'Gods many and Lords many,' says the Book:

You would have yielded up your soul to me

—Not to the false god who has burned its clay

In his own image. I had shed my love

Like Spring dew on the clod all flowery thence,

Not sent up a wild vapor to the sun

That drinks and then disperses. Both of us

Blameworthy,—I first meet my punishment—

And not so hard to bear. I breathe again!

Forth from those arms' enwinding leprosy

At last I struggle—uncontaminate:

Why must I leaveyoupressing to the breast

That 's all one plague-spot? Did you love me once?

Then take love's last and best return! I think,

Womanliness means only motherhood;

All love begins and ends there,—roams enough,

But, having run the circle, rests at home.

Why is your expiation yet to make?

Pull shame with your own hands from your own head

Now,—never wait the slow envelopment

Submitted to by unelastic age!

One fierce throe frees the sapling: flake on flake

Lull till they leave the oak snow-stupefied.

Your heart retains its vital warmth—or why

That blushing reassurance? Blush, young blood!

Break from beneath this icy premature

Captivity of wickedness—I warn

Back, in God's name! No fresh encroachment here!

This May breaks all to bud—no winter now!

Friend, we are both forgiven! Sin no more!

I am past sin now, so shall you become!

Meanwhile I testify that, lying once,

My foe lied ever, most lied last of all.

He, waking, whispered to your sense asleep

The wicked counsel,—and assent might seem;

But, roused, your healthy indignation breaks

The idle dream-pact. You would die—not dare

Confirm your dream-resolve,—nay, find the word

That fits the deed to bear the light of day!

Say I have justly judged you! then farewell

To blushing—nay, it ends in smiles, not tears!

Why tears now? I have justly judged, thank God!"

He does blush boy-like, but the man speaks out,—Makes the due effort to surmount himself.

He does blush boy-like, but the man speaks out,

—Makes the due effort to surmount himself.

"I don't know what he wrote—how should I? NorHow he could read my purpose, which, it seems,He chose to somehow write—mistakenlyOr else for mischief's sake. I scarce believeMy purpose put before you fair and plainWould need annoy so much; but there's my luck—From first to last I blunder. Still, one moreTurn at the target, try to speak my thought!Since he could guess my purpose, won't you readRight what he set down wrong? He said—let 's think!Ay, so!—he did begin by telling heapsOf tales about you. Now, you see—supposeAny one told me—my own mother diedBefore I knew her—told me—to his cost!—Such tales about my own dead mother: why,You would not wonder surely if I knew,By nothing but my own heart's help, he lied,Would you? No reason 's wanted in the case.So with you! In they burnt on me, his tales,Much as when madhouse-inmates crowd around,Make captive any visitor and screamAll sorts of stories of their keeper—he 'sBoth dwarf and giant, vulture, wolf, dog, cat,Serpent and scorpion, yet man all the same;Sane people soon see through the gibberish!I just made out, you somehow lived somewhereA life of shame—I can't distinguish more—Married or single—how, don't matter much:Shame which himself had caused—that point was clear,That fact confessed—that thing to hold and keep.Oh, and he added some absurdity—That you were here to make me—ha, ha, ha!—Still love you, still of mind to die for you,Ha, ha—as if that needed mighty pains!Now, foolish as ... but never mind myself;—What I am, what I am not, in the eyeOf the world, is what I never cared for much.Fool then or no fool, not one single wordIn the whole string of lies did I believe,But this—this only—if I choke, who cares?—I believe somehow in your purityPerfect as ever! Else what use is God?He is God, and work miracles he can!Then, what shall I do? Quite as clear, my course!They 've got a thing they call their LabyrinthI' the garden yonder: and my cousin playedA pretty trick once, led and lost me deepInside the briery maze of hedge round hedge;And there might I be staying now, stock-still,But that I laughing bade eyes follow noseAnd so straight pushed my path through let and stopAnd soon was out in the open, face all scratched,But well behind my back the prison-barsIn sorry plight enough, I promise you!So here: I won my way to truth through lies—Said, as I saw light,—if her shame be shameI 'll rescue and redeem her,—shame 's no shame?Then, I 'll avenge, protect—redeem myselfThe stupidest of sinners! Here I stand!Dear,—let me once dare call you so,—you said,Thus ought you to have done, four years ago,Such things and such! Ay, dear, and what ought I?You were revealed to me: where 's gratitude,Where 's memory even, where the gain of youDiscernible in my low after-lifeOf fancied consolation? why, no horseOnce fed on corn, will, missing corn, go munchMere thistles like a donkey! I missed you,And in your place found—him, made him my love,Ay, did I,—by this token, that he taughtSo much beast-nature that I meant ... God knowsWhether I bow me to the dust enough! ..To marry—yes, my cousin here! I hopeThat was a master-stroke! Take heart of hers,And give her hand of mine with no more heartThan now you see upon this brow I strike!What atom of a heart do I retainNot all yours? Dear, you know it! EasilyMay she accord me pardon when I placeMy brow beneath her foot, if foot so deign,Since uttermost indignity is spared—Mere marriage and no love! And all this timeNot one word to the purpose! Are you free?Only wait! only let me serve—deserveWhere you appoint and how you see the good!I have the will—perhaps the power—at leastMeans that have power against the world. For time—Take my whole life for your experiment!If you are bound—in marriage, say—why, still,Still, sure, there 's something for a friend to do,Outside? A mere well-wisher, understand!I 'll sit, my life long, at your gate, you know,Swing it wide open to let you and himPass freely,—and you need not look, much lessFling me a 'Thank you—are you there, old friend?'Don't say that even: I should drop like shot!So I feel now at least: some day, who knows?After no end of weeks and months and yearsYou might smile 'I believe you did your best!'And that shall make my heart leap—leap such leapAs lands the feet in Heaven to wait you there!Ah, there 's just one thing more! How pale you look!Why? Are you angry? If there 's, after all,Worst come to worst—if still there somehow beThe shame—I said was no shame,—none, I swear!—In that case, if my hand and what it holds,—My name,—might be your safeguard now—at once—Why, here 's the hand—you have the heart! Of course—No cheat, no binding you, because I'm bound,To let me off probation by one day,Week, month, year, lifetime! Prove as you propose!Here 's the hand with the name to take or leave!That 's all—and no great piece of news, I hope!"

"I don't know what he wrote—how should I? Nor

How he could read my purpose, which, it seems,

He chose to somehow write—mistakenly

Or else for mischief's sake. I scarce believe

My purpose put before you fair and plain

Would need annoy so much; but there's my luck—

From first to last I blunder. Still, one more

Turn at the target, try to speak my thought!

Since he could guess my purpose, won't you read

Right what he set down wrong? He said—let 's think!

Ay, so!—he did begin by telling heaps

Of tales about you. Now, you see—suppose

Any one told me—my own mother died

Before I knew her—told me—to his cost!—

Such tales about my own dead mother: why,

You would not wonder surely if I knew,

By nothing but my own heart's help, he lied,

Would you? No reason 's wanted in the case.

So with you! In they burnt on me, his tales,

Much as when madhouse-inmates crowd around,

Make captive any visitor and scream

All sorts of stories of their keeper—he 's

Both dwarf and giant, vulture, wolf, dog, cat,

Serpent and scorpion, yet man all the same;

Sane people soon see through the gibberish!

I just made out, you somehow lived somewhere

A life of shame—I can't distinguish more—

Married or single—how, don't matter much:

Shame which himself had caused—that point was clear,

That fact confessed—that thing to hold and keep.

Oh, and he added some absurdity

—That you were here to make me—ha, ha, ha!—

Still love you, still of mind to die for you,

Ha, ha—as if that needed mighty pains!

Now, foolish as ... but never mind myself;

—What I am, what I am not, in the eye

Of the world, is what I never cared for much.

Fool then or no fool, not one single word

In the whole string of lies did I believe,

But this—this only—if I choke, who cares?—

I believe somehow in your purity

Perfect as ever! Else what use is God?

He is God, and work miracles he can!

Then, what shall I do? Quite as clear, my course!

They 've got a thing they call their Labyrinth

I' the garden yonder: and my cousin played

A pretty trick once, led and lost me deep

Inside the briery maze of hedge round hedge;

And there might I be staying now, stock-still,

But that I laughing bade eyes follow nose

And so straight pushed my path through let and stop

And soon was out in the open, face all scratched,

But well behind my back the prison-bars

In sorry plight enough, I promise you!

So here: I won my way to truth through lies—

Said, as I saw light,—if her shame be shame

I 'll rescue and redeem her,—shame 's no shame?

Then, I 'll avenge, protect—redeem myself

The stupidest of sinners! Here I stand!

Dear,—let me once dare call you so,—you said,

Thus ought you to have done, four years ago,

Such things and such! Ay, dear, and what ought I?

You were revealed to me: where 's gratitude,

Where 's memory even, where the gain of you

Discernible in my low after-life

Of fancied consolation? why, no horse

Once fed on corn, will, missing corn, go munch

Mere thistles like a donkey! I missed you,

And in your place found—him, made him my love,

Ay, did I,—by this token, that he taught

So much beast-nature that I meant ... God knows

Whether I bow me to the dust enough! ..

To marry—yes, my cousin here! I hope

That was a master-stroke! Take heart of hers,

And give her hand of mine with no more heart

Than now you see upon this brow I strike!

What atom of a heart do I retain

Not all yours? Dear, you know it! Easily

May she accord me pardon when I place

My brow beneath her foot, if foot so deign,

Since uttermost indignity is spared—

Mere marriage and no love! And all this time

Not one word to the purpose! Are you free?

Only wait! only let me serve—deserve

Where you appoint and how you see the good!

I have the will—perhaps the power—at least

Means that have power against the world. For time—

Take my whole life for your experiment!

If you are bound—in marriage, say—why, still,

Still, sure, there 's something for a friend to do,

Outside? A mere well-wisher, understand!

I 'll sit, my life long, at your gate, you know,

Swing it wide open to let you and him

Pass freely,—and you need not look, much less

Fling me a 'Thank you—are you there, old friend?'

Don't say that even: I should drop like shot!

So I feel now at least: some day, who knows?

After no end of weeks and months and years

You might smile 'I believe you did your best!'

And that shall make my heart leap—leap such leap

As lands the feet in Heaven to wait you there!

Ah, there 's just one thing more! How pale you look!

Why? Are you angry? If there 's, after all,

Worst come to worst—if still there somehow be

The shame—I said was no shame,—none, I swear!—

In that case, if my hand and what it holds,—

My name,—might be your safeguard now—at once—

Why, here 's the hand—you have the heart! Of course—

No cheat, no binding you, because I'm bound,

To let me off probation by one day,

Week, month, year, lifetime! Prove as you propose!

Here 's the hand with the name to take or leave!

That 's all—and no great piece of news, I hope!"

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