[Poems by Trowbridge in] A masque of poets Including Guy Vernon, a novelette in verse |
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| GUY VERNON. |
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 | [Poems by Trowbridge in] A masque of poets |  |
177
GUY VERNON.
1. PART I.
THE WEDDING JOURNEY.
I.
He was as fair a bachelor as ever
Resolved to take a wife at forty-five.
Indeed, how one so amiable and clever,
Good-looking, rich, et cetera, could contrive
Till the high noon of manhood not to wive,
Was a vexed theme, and long remained a mystery
To those who did not know his early history.
Resolved to take a wife at forty-five.
Indeed, how one so amiable and clever,
Good-looking, rich, et cetera, could contrive
Till the high noon of manhood not to wive,
Was a vexed theme, and long remained a mystery
To those who did not know his early history.
And none knew that among his bride's relations.
At Saratoga, where you meet all grades
Of well-dressed people spending short vacations,
Manœuvring mothers, marriageable maids,
And fortune-hunters on their annual raids,
He saw her waltz, and spite of every barrier
Of years or influence, inly vowed, “I'll marry her!”
At Saratoga, where you meet all grades
Of well-dressed people spending short vacations,
Manœuvring mothers, marriageable maids,
And fortune-hunters on their annual raids,
He saw her waltz, and spite of every barrier
Of years or influence, inly vowed, “I'll marry her!”
178
Barriers there were: she was but two-and-twenty,
He, twice her age, as I have intimated.
But that seems no great matter: there are plenty
Of wives to-day felicitously mated
With husbands whose nativities are dated
(I speak with some authority) a score
Of years before their own, and sometimes more.
He, twice her age, as I have intimated.
But that seems no great matter: there are plenty
Of wives to-day felicitously mated
With husbands whose nativities are dated
(I speak with some authority) a score
Of years before their own, and sometimes more.
One barrier in himself quite good and strong
There was,—the mystery no one could discover
Which kept our beau a bachelor so long:
But when a man is very much a lover
Such things are somehow easily got over:—
And one in her, on which he had not counted,
That could not be so readily surmounted.
There was,—the mystery no one could discover
Which kept our beau a bachelor so long:
But when a man is very much a lover
Such things are somehow easily got over:—
And one in her, on which he had not counted,
That could not be so readily surmounted.
The lady—though Guy Vernon did not know it—
Had left another lover in the city,—
Rob Lorne, a journalist, and sort of poet;
A fellow so unthrifty and so witty,
That honest people said it was a pity
A needle of such point should have a head
Too fine to take a strong and useful thread.
Had left another lover in the city,—
Rob Lorne, a journalist, and sort of poet;
A fellow so unthrifty and so witty,
That honest people said it was a pity
A needle of such point should have a head
Too fine to take a strong and useful thread.
179
While for a season they were separated,
And in his dismal editorial den
The lover labored and the lady waited
For him to make a fortune with his pen,—
A thing which does not come to scribbling men
So often as, for one, I wish it did,—
Vernon stepped up and made a higher bid.
And in his dismal editorial den
The lover labored and the lady waited
For him to make a fortune with his pen,—
A thing which does not come to scribbling men
So often as, for one, I wish it did,—
Vernon stepped up and made a higher bid.
II.
Guy Vernon's hand! a splendid offer truly!
And though Florinda (so the muse shall name her)
Was neither false nor fickle, nor unduly
Given to the world,—which never quite could claim her,
Much as she loved society,—don't blame her,
If, when a man like Vernon wished to bid her in,
She thought the matter worth, at least, considering.
And though Florinda (so the muse shall name her)
Was neither false nor fickle, nor unduly
Given to the world,—which never quite could claim her,
Much as she loved society,—don't blame her,
If, when a man like Vernon wished to bid her in,
She thought the matter worth, at least, considering.
Good family, good habits, handsome presence,
Breathing in dress, smile, gesture, look, and tone
That indefinable ethereal essence
Of culture and high breeding,—let alone
His private charities, which were well known,—
A match he seemed in every way superior
To him whose chances chanced to be anterior.
Breathing in dress, smile, gesture, look, and tone
That indefinable ethereal essence
Of culture and high breeding,—let alone
His private charities, which were well known,—
A match he seemed in every way superior
To him whose chances chanced to be anterior.
180
Her friends all chorused, “Vernon!—Hear to us!
A man of soul and sense is always young!”
But conscience whispered, “Plighted troth!” While thus
Long time in even scale the battle hung
(As somebody has somewhere said or sung),
Her heart—or shall we say imagination?—
Was in a fearful state of perturbation.
A man of soul and sense is always young!”
But conscience whispered, “Plighted troth!” While thus
Long time in even scale the battle hung
(As somebody has somewhere said or sung),
Her heart—or shall we say imagination?—
Was in a fearful state of perturbation.
If she had been excessively in love,
The business would at once have been decided.
The one imperious, mighty power, above
All others in such matters—though unguided,
Misguided often, scorned, profaned, derided—
Is Love, whose little arrow seldom fails,
Thrown in, to turn the matrimonial scales.
The business would at once have been decided.
The one imperious, mighty power, above
All others in such matters—though unguided,
Misguided often, scorned, profaned, derided—
Is Love, whose little arrow seldom fails,
Thrown in, to turn the matrimonial scales.
The trouble is, we do not love: who loves
With that immortal passion, pure, supreme,
Strong and unselfish, tender as the dove's,
Which touches life with a celestial beam,
And wraps the world in its own radiant dream;—
Makes heavens of eyes, and then has power to bring
All heaven within the horizon of a ring?
With that immortal passion, pure, supreme,
Strong and unselfish, tender as the dove's,
Which touches life with a celestial beam,
And wraps the world in its own radiant dream;—
Makes heavens of eyes, and then has power to bring
All heaven within the horizon of a ring?
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III.
One loved, at least,—our poet. How he first
Learned of the complication, I've no notion;
But sudden lava-flood and flame outburst,
A young volcano in Love's summer ocean,
Which sank as suddenly; and, all devotion,
Humility, despair, self-sacrifice,
He wrote: “The world was right! you were not wise,
Learned of the complication, I've no notion;
But sudden lava-flood and flame outburst,
A young volcano in Love's summer ocean,
Which sank as suddenly; and, all devotion,
Humility, despair, self-sacrifice,
He wrote: “The world was right! you were not wise,
“To link your fate with one so poor as I:
You 're free.” And after many tears, and blind,
Swift gusts of passion, she accepted Guy.—
All which sounds commonplace enough, I find.
But somehow it seems better, to my mind,
The muse should be a trifle too familiar,
Than pompous, adipose, and atrabiliar,
You 're free.” And after many tears, and blind,
Swift gusts of passion, she accepted Guy.—
All which sounds commonplace enough, I find.
But somehow it seems better, to my mind,
The muse should be a trifle too familiar,
Than pompous, adipose, and atrabiliar,
Singing the past in those false tones I loathe.
Some poets seem oppressed with the conviction,
That to be classic, they must still re-clothe
The venerable forms of antique fiction
In what they deem approved poetic diction;
And so they let their unpruned fancies roll
Round some old theme, like hop-vines round a pole.
Some poets seem oppressed with the conviction,
That to be classic, they must still re-clothe
The venerable forms of antique fiction
In what they deem approved poetic diction;
And so they let their unpruned fancies roll
Round some old theme, like hop-vines round a pole.
182
Give me the living theme, and living speech—
The native stem and its spontaneous shoots,
Fibres and foliage of the soul that reach
Deep down in human life their thrilling roots,
And mould the sunshine into golden fruits,
Not ashes to the taste, but fit to feed
The highest and the humblest human need!
The native stem and its spontaneous shoots,
Fibres and foliage of the soul that reach
Deep down in human life their thrilling roots,
And mould the sunshine into golden fruits,
Not ashes to the taste, but fit to feed
The highest and the humblest human need!
O singers of the sunset! is there naught
Remaining for the muse, but just to fill
Old skins of fable with weak wine of thought?
The child, Imagination, at his will
Reshakes to wondrous forms of beauty still
A few bright shards of common joy and hope,
And turns the world in his kaleidoscope.
Remaining for the muse, but just to fill
Old skins of fable with weak wine of thought?
The child, Imagination, at his will
Reshakes to wondrous forms of beauty still
A few bright shards of common joy and hope,
And turns the world in his kaleidoscope.
IV.
Well, they were married, sometime in the autumn,
At her aunt's house in town, with great display;
For though the bride was penniless, and brought him
Her beauty for sole dower (that proud array
Of lace and diamonds was his gift, they say),
A multitude of friends conspired to render
The wedding feast a perfect blaze of splendor.
At her aunt's house in town, with great display;
For though the bride was penniless, and brought him
Her beauty for sole dower (that proud array
Of lace and diamonds was his gift, they say),
A multitude of friends conspired to render
The wedding feast a perfect blaze of splendor.
183
She did not know, before, she had so many
Rich and enthusiastic friends: the snob,
Who never would have sacrificed a penny
In bridal gifts for one who married Rob,
Made haste to join the fashionable mob,
Since Vernon was the man, and would have given his
Last dime to buy her something nice at Tiffany's.
Rich and enthusiastic friends: the snob,
Who never would have sacrificed a penny
In bridal gifts for one who married Rob,
Made haste to join the fashionable mob,
Since Vernon was the man, and would have given his
Last dime to buy her something nice at Tiffany's.
Lorne bravely stood his ground till all was over;
Then quietly looked round him for some means
Of burying his dead hope; became a rover,
Visiting foreign countries and strange scenes;
And, writing verses for the magazines,
Newspaper sketches, stories, correspondence, he
Struggled with his hotel-bills and despondency.
Then quietly looked round him for some means
Of burying his dead hope; became a rover,
Visiting foreign countries and strange scenes;
And, writing verses for the magazines,
Newspaper sketches, stories, correspondence, he
Struggled with his hotel-bills and despondency.
The wedded pair went off to Louisiana,
Where Vernon owned a very large plantation,
And wintered in New Orleans and Havana,—
A season of delightful dissipation,
Sight-seeing, dining, driving, conversation,
And—best of all—the infinite variety
Found in each other's ever-fresh society.
Where Vernon owned a very large plantation,
And wintered in New Orleans and Havana,—
A season of delightful dissipation,
Sight-seeing, dining, driving, conversation,
And—best of all—the infinite variety
Found in each other's ever-fresh society.
184
A paragon of husbands; she admired
His noble, courtly manhood more and more;
And every day his constancy inspired
In her a tenderer deference than before:
So she began in earnest to adore
This married man and model of a hero,—
First love's quicksilver sinking fast to zero.
His noble, courtly manhood more and more;
And every day his constancy inspired
In her a tenderer deference than before:
So she began in earnest to adore
This married man and model of a hero,—
First love's quicksilver sinking fast to zero.
Such wedlock is, to true hearts truly wed;
Love's guarded paradise; where sometimes they
Who enter with indifference or dread
Find richest blessings; though I'm bound to say,
The rule too often works the other way,
And disenchantment leads to evil courses,
Domestic jars, elopements, and divorces.
Love's guarded paradise; where sometimes they
Who enter with indifference or dread
Find richest blessings; though I'm bound to say,
The rule too often works the other way,
And disenchantment leads to evil courses,
Domestic jars, elopements, and divorces.
V.
And all was lovely with our loving couple;
Till, one day in Havana, there befell,
What seems a trifle, their first serious trouble.
As they were riding on the Isabel
Paseo, which the traveller knows so well,—
'Tis truly a magnificent parade,
Walks, fountains, statues, carriage-way, and shade;
Till, one day in Havana, there befell,
What seems a trifle, their first serious trouble.
As they were riding on the Isabel
Paseo, which the traveller knows so well,—
'Tis truly a magnificent parade,
Walks, fountains, statues, carriage-way, and shade;
185
Thronged with pedestrians, horsemen, prancing spans;
Ladies in head-dress singularly scanty,
Darting dark glances from behind their fans,—
Never on foot, but drawn (behind a jaunty
Black-faced postilion) in a gay volante,
That Cuban gig, of easy jogging motion;—
Here, the fine harbor; there the circling ocean:
Ladies in head-dress singularly scanty,
Darting dark glances from behind their fans,—
Never on foot, but drawn (behind a jaunty
Black-faced postilion) in a gay volante,
That Cuban gig, of easy jogging motion;—
Here, the fine harbor; there the circling ocean:
Epitome and picture of Havana,
And that rich land of tropic fruit and tree,—
Fair Island of the orange and banana,
And endless summer in a sapphire sea!
Land of the cocoa and mahogany;
Voluptuous, balmy nights, and wondrous stars;
Of Creole beauties and the best cigars:
And that rich land of tropic fruit and tree,—
Fair Island of the orange and banana,
And endless summer in a sapphire sea!
Land of the cocoa and mahogany;
Voluptuous, balmy nights, and wondrous stars;
Of Creole beauties and the best cigars:
'Twas on that famous promenade, where daily
You meet the wealth and fashion of the isle,—
As they were riding and conversing gayly,
And now and then exchanging nod and smile,
With new-made friends, along that marvellous mile,
In the soft, rosy twilight of the tropic,
Florinda touched upon a dangerous topic.
You meet the wealth and fashion of the isle,—
As they were riding and conversing gayly,
And now and then exchanging nod and smile,
With new-made friends, along that marvellous mile,
In the soft, rosy twilight of the tropic,
Florinda touched upon a dangerous topic.
186
VI.
Guy had a bright mulatto for a servant,
A jewelled, gorgeous fellow; very handy
To pack a trunk, pay bills, discreet, observant;
Originally nicknamed Sam or Sandy,
But so superb and exquisite a dandy,
Resplendent in all sorts of gaudy things,
Florinda called him Saturn, for his rings.
A jewelled, gorgeous fellow; very handy
To pack a trunk, pay bills, discreet, observant;
Originally nicknamed Sam or Sandy,
But so superb and exquisite a dandy,
Resplendent in all sorts of gaudy things,
Florinda called him Saturn, for his rings.
Of all unfeathered bipeds,—Feejees, Negroes,—
In any clime, of race refined or rude;
Where crawls the crocodile, or where the tea grows;
Pale, swarthy, tawny-skinned, or copper-hued;
Turbaned or pigtailed, naked, furred, tattooed;—
The queerest yet turned out from Nature's shop
Is your complete, unmitigated fop.
In any clime, of race refined or rude;
Where crawls the crocodile, or where the tea grows;
Pale, swarthy, tawny-skinned, or copper-hued;
Turbaned or pigtailed, naked, furred, tattooed;—
The queerest yet turned out from Nature's shop
Is your complete, unmitigated fop.
And of all fops the foppiest yet was Saturn.
'Twas rumored, he had once been Vernon's slave,
Now freed for his fidelity: a pattern
Of your smooth, secret, serviceable knave;
Guy's varlet, barber, purse, and very grave
Custodian of his cash, mustache, and collars;—
And worth himself some twenty thousand dollars.
'Twas rumored, he had once been Vernon's slave,
Now freed for his fidelity: a pattern
Of your smooth, secret, serviceable knave;
Guy's varlet, barber, purse, and very grave
Custodian of his cash, mustache, and collars;—
And worth himself some twenty thousand dollars.
187
Of her dear Vernon he was such a travesty;—
The insufferable smile with which he asked
At what hour Guy would drive or dine or have his tea;
The lazy insolence with which he basked
In his own conscious gorgeousness,—so tasked
Florinda's patience and provoked her merriment,
That now she ventured on a rash experiment.
The insufferable smile with which he asked
At what hour Guy would drive or dine or have his tea;
The lazy insolence with which he basked
In his own conscious gorgeousness,—so tasked
Florinda's patience and provoked her merriment,
That now she ventured on a rash experiment.
“I'm sick of such magnificence of vest!
I hate the princely air with which he bends
That carded pate, oiled, scented! I detest
Crinkled mustaches with waxed, pointed ends!
But oh, I see!” she laughed, “the rogue intends
To have at least a few straight hairs about him.
Would the sky fall if we should do without him?
I hate the princely air with which he bends
That carded pate, oiled, scented! I detest
Crinkled mustaches with waxed, pointed ends!
But oh, I see!” she laughed, “the rogue intends
To have at least a few straight hairs about him.
Would the sky fall if we should do without him?
“Do please me, love,—get rid of this phenomenon!
Dear, will you make me happy?” But although
The wish seemed not an idle, nor uncommon one,
Vernon grew pallid, and with scarce a show
Of his accustomed graciousness, said, “No!”
So bluntly, coldly, that her quick tears started,
And for five minutes she was broken-hearted.
Dear, will you make me happy?” But although
The wish seemed not an idle, nor uncommon one,
Vernon grew pallid, and with scarce a show
Of his accustomed graciousness, said, “No!”
So bluntly, coldly, that her quick tears started,
And for five minutes she was broken-hearted.
188
“Darling!” she said, “I was but half in earnest;
I only meant to say that—I can't bear him!”
“Unfortunate,” he answered, with his sternest
And most forbidding scowl, “for I can't spare him!”
And, like the tyrant of a Turkish harem,
Thus having curtly uttered his conclusion,
He plucked his beard in anger and confusion.
I only meant to say that—I can't bear him!”
“Unfortunate,” he answered, with his sternest
And most forbidding scowl, “for I can't spare him!”
And, like the tyrant of a Turkish harem,
Thus having curtly uttered his conclusion,
He plucked his beard in anger and confusion.
But seeing her tears, he soon began to rally
His gentler thoughts: “My dear, you do not know
That faithful, that incomparable valet,—
A perfect nonpareil, as valets go!
In other matters I am seldom slow
To heed your lightest wishes; but in such
A case as this you—really—ask too much.
His gentler thoughts: “My dear, you do not know
That faithful, that incomparable valet,—
A perfect nonpareil, as valets go!
In other matters I am seldom slow
To heed your lightest wishes; but in such
A case as this you—really—ask too much.
“Reasons there are—but I can't undertake
To give the reasons.”—“Keep him, dear,” she sighed;
“I'll even resolve to love him for your sake.”
And so the matter dropped: Florinda tried
To make a jest of it, but only cried;
For Vernon's conduct, and the sallow fellow's
Strange influence with him, made her sad and jealous.
To give the reasons.”—“Keep him, dear,” she sighed;
“I'll even resolve to love him for your sake.”
And so the matter dropped: Florinda tried
To make a jest of it, but only cried;
For Vernon's conduct, and the sallow fellow's
Strange influence with him, made her sad and jealous.
189
VII.
So the ring'd planet kept his proud supremacy
Over Guy Vernon's person, mind, and purse,—
As if there blazed not such another gem as he
In the blue setting of the universe!
And still Florinda liked him worse and worse;
But practised wise duplicity, concealing
With innocent art her inmost thought and feeling.
Over Guy Vernon's person, mind, and purse,—
As if there blazed not such another gem as he
In the blue setting of the universe!
And still Florinda liked him worse and worse;
But practised wise duplicity, concealing
With innocent art her inmost thought and feeling.
And all seemed well; till something far more serious
Occurred her gentle tactics to derange:
First, something in the air, scarce felt, mysterious,
The subtile shadow of a coming change;
Then Guy grew restless, melancholy, strange,
Subject to absent moods and fitful sighs,
While Saturn watched him with keen, cautious eyes.
Occurred her gentle tactics to derange:
First, something in the air, scarce felt, mysterious,
The subtile shadow of a coming change;
Then Guy grew restless, melancholy, strange,
Subject to absent moods and fitful sighs,
While Saturn watched him with keen, cautious eyes.
Florinda pleaded fondly: “Tell me, dearest,
Your secret trouble! If you are in pain,
You know you have my tenderest, sincerest
Sympathy,—which, I pray you, don't disdain!”
But Vernon only groaned: “I can't explain!
Ask Sandy—there is something he will tell you.”
And then abruptly left her with the fellow.
Your secret trouble! If you are in pain,
You know you have my tenderest, sincerest
Sympathy,—which, I pray you, don't disdain!”
But Vernon only groaned: “I can't explain!
Ask Sandy—there is something he will tell you.”
And then abruptly left her with the fellow.
190
So the disgust and shame were forced upon her
Of begging Saturn to unfold the matter.
He smiled, bowed, hand on waistcoat: “'Pon my honor!”—
Quirking his eyebrows, he stood leering at her,
Like some bedizened, over-civil satyr,—
“Extremely sorry—news from our attorney—
In short,—hem!—madam, we must make a journey.”
Of begging Saturn to unfold the matter.
He smiled, bowed, hand on waistcoat: “'Pon my honor!”—
Quirking his eyebrows, he stood leering at her,
Like some bedizened, over-civil satyr,—
“Extremely sorry—news from our attorney—
In short,—hem!—madam, we must make a journey.”
“Where?” cries Florinda.—“Back to our plantation.”
“Tell me at once! what is the dreadful news?”
“The business scarce admits of explanation;
For ladies, altogether too abstruse!”
“When do we go?”—“Ah, madam! please excuse
The cruel circumstance, the—what you call
Necessity,—you do not go at all.”
“Tell me at once! what is the dreadful news?”
“The business scarce admits of explanation;
For ladies, altogether too abstruse!”
“When do we go?”—“Ah, madam! please excuse
The cruel circumstance, the—what you call
Necessity,—you do not go at all.”
“And what becomes of me?” Pale, stunned, she stared.
“Madam, you and your maid will be confided
To Captain Jones; so please you, be prepared
To sail next week: all things have been provided.”
He smiled, extremely bland, but quite decided:
“Believe me, madam, 'tis with deepest sorrow
That we must sail—the other way—to-morrow.”
“Madam, you and your maid will be confided
To Captain Jones; so please you, be prepared
To sail next week: all things have been provided.”
He smiled, extremely bland, but quite decided:
“Believe me, madam, 'tis with deepest sorrow
That we must sail—the other way—to-morrow.”
191
She clasped her hands before him, speechless, trembling,
Fearing some terrible distress or treason;
While Saturn stood there, simpering, dissembling.
“Don't be alarmed,—you surely have no reason;
You join your friends, and later in the season,
This trifling business ended, he will meet you.
Be calm, be patient, madam, I entreat you!”
Fearing some terrible distress or treason;
While Saturn stood there, simpering, dissembling.
“Don't be alarmed,—you surely have no reason;
You join your friends, and later in the season,
This trifling business ended, he will meet you.
Be calm, be patient, madam, I entreat you!”
She answered: “Tell me all—I will be calm!
What is my husband's grief, this fearful trouble?
Money? a duel?” With a low salaam
He bent his brilliant person nearly double
(Body and soul seemed similarly supple):—
“Beg pardon, madam,—neither! To be brief,
Parting from you is his especial grief.”
What is my husband's grief, this fearful trouble?
Money? a duel?” With a low salaam
He bent his brilliant person nearly double
(Body and soul seemed similarly supple):—
“Beg pardon, madam,—neither! To be brief,
Parting from you is his especial grief.”
“Why does he leave me, then? O sir, be good!
Is there another woman? Tell me truly!”
The fellow was a study as he stood,
Grimacing, shrugging, lynx-eyed, white-toothed, woolly:
“The circumstance has been explained as fully
As seems desirable,—but this I'll say,
No other woman stands in madam's way.
Is there another woman? Tell me truly!”
The fellow was a study as he stood,
Grimacing, shrugging, lynx-eyed, white-toothed, woolly:
“The circumstance has been explained as fully
As seems desirable,—but this I'll say,
No other woman stands in madam's way.
192
“Excuse me, madam, if I say no more.
We go to-morrow, and you sail next week.”
The rogue retreated, bowing, to the door,
And adding,—“You'll do better not to speak
To him of this affair, unless you seek
His ruin and your own unhappiness,”—
Left her in tears of terror and distress.
We go to-morrow, and you sail next week.”
The rogue retreated, bowing, to the door,
And adding,—“You'll do better not to speak
To him of this affair, unless you seek
His ruin and your own unhappiness,”—
Left her in tears of terror and distress.
VIII.
She flew to Vernon's room: abstracted, moody,
Before his table, leaning on a chair,
Motionless, breathless, like a statue stood he,
With drooping arms, bent head, disordered hair,
In utter desolation and despair;
Then suddenly a shuddering sigh ran through him.
She stayed her steps, not daring to go to him.
Before his table, leaning on a chair,
Motionless, breathless, like a statue stood he,
With drooping arms, bent head, disordered hair,
In utter desolation and despair;
Then suddenly a shuddering sigh ran through him.
She stayed her steps, not daring to go to him.
Was this the noble Vernon she had wedded,
The tender husband and the ardent wooer?
Unspeakably her poor heart longed, yet dreaded,
To question, comfort him; when, turning to her,
Quick as some conscience-stricken evil-doer
In his dark moments taken by surprise,
He glared upon her with strange, awful eyes.
The tender husband and the ardent wooer?
Unspeakably her poor heart longed, yet dreaded,
To question, comfort him; when, turning to her,
Quick as some conscience-stricken evil-doer
In his dark moments taken by surprise,
He glared upon her with strange, awful eyes.
193
Othello's thus on Desdemona burned.
She took his hand, and silent, white with fear,
Yet, with the strength a strong heart gave, returned
His lowering look, from large eyes deep and clear,
Where love and pity trembled to a tear.
Then, as he smote his brow and turned away,
She asked, “Have you not one kind word to say?”
She took his hand, and silent, white with fear,
Yet, with the strength a strong heart gave, returned
His lowering look, from large eyes deep and clear,
Where love and pity trembled to a tear.
Then, as he smote his brow and turned away,
She asked, “Have you not one kind word to say?”
Strongly she held her wildly throbbing heart,
Determined not to question nor complain;
But only said, “To-morrow, then, we part?
O Guy! dear Guy! when shall we meet again?”
He wrung her hand until she shrank with pain;
Then flung her off, and from the chamber fled,
Leaving the little longed-for word unsaid.
Determined not to question nor complain;
But only said, “To-morrow, then, we part?
O Guy! dear Guy! when shall we meet again?”
He wrung her hand until she shrank with pain;
Then flung her off, and from the chamber fled,
Leaving the little longed-for word unsaid.
IX.
She felt her heart give way, and quickly grew ill,
Sinking upon the couch in abject woe.
There as she lay, and thought how strange, how cruel
That he should keep his secrets from her so,—
That she had none which Vernon might not know,—
She started, thinking how she had forborne
To tell him of her love-affair with Lorne.
Sinking upon the couch in abject woe.
There as she lay, and thought how strange, how cruel
That he should keep his secrets from her so,—
That she had none which Vernon might not know,—
She started, thinking how she had forborne
To tell him of her love-affair with Lorne.
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Now had some recent, terrible discovery
Changed his regard to sudden deadly hate?
Oh! had she lost his love beyond recovery,
Through that one fault, which unforgiving Fate
Had left some loophole to reveal too late?
Was that malicious, treacherous, artful fellow
The dark Iago to her white Othello?
Changed his regard to sudden deadly hate?
Oh! had she lost his love beyond recovery,
Through that one fault, which unforgiving Fate
Had left some loophole to reveal too late?
Was that malicious, treacherous, artful fellow
The dark Iago to her white Othello?
Was this his vengeance for that talk with Guy
About his merits? Had some scrap of paper
Betrayed her secret? was her maid a spy?
For thus in mystery's magnifying vapor
The fearful soul sees giant shapes that ape her;
As in the Brocken spectre one discovers
One's own vast beckoning shade, that towers and hovers.
About his merits? Had some scrap of paper
Betrayed her secret? was her maid a spy?
For thus in mystery's magnifying vapor
The fearful soul sees giant shapes that ape her;
As in the Brocken spectre one discovers
One's own vast beckoning shade, that towers and hovers.
So Fear has oftenest but itself to fear.
But though imagined ills are still the worst,
To troubled souls this truth is never clear;
When evil lowers we deem the rule reversed,
And fancy blacker woes about to burst
Upon our heads than any yet conceived.
So now Florinda, right or wrong, believed.
But though imagined ills are still the worst,
To troubled souls this truth is never clear;
When evil lowers we deem the rule reversed,
And fancy blacker woes about to burst
Upon our heads than any yet conceived.
So now Florinda, right or wrong, believed.
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X.
She rose and paced the room like one distracted;
And wrote, but tore in haste the blotted sheet;
Then turned—I know not by what power attracted—
To the front window-bars her restless feet,
And, looking out upon the quaint old street,
Saw—with lithe head on graceful shoulders borne—
Her late, discarded lover, Robert Lorne:
And wrote, but tore in haste the blotted sheet;
Then turned—I know not by what power attracted—
To the front window-bars her restless feet,
And, looking out upon the quaint old street,
Saw—with lithe head on graceful shoulders borne—
Her late, discarded lover, Robert Lorne:
Now habited like any Habenero,
Sauntering as leisurely, quite free from care;
His fine face shaded by a light sombrero,
Bearded, and brown as he had once been fair;
Smoking his cigarito with an air
Of such observant fancy and enjoyment,
As seems your poet-traveller's fit employment.
Sauntering as leisurely, quite free from care;
His fine face shaded by a light sombrero,
Bearded, and brown as he had once been fair;
Smoking his cigarito with an air
Of such observant fancy and enjoyment,
As seems your poet-traveller's fit employment.
He had not died of love,—that heart-disease
Which proves but seldom fatal, to my thinking.
Defeated hope, sick fancy, if you please,
Often induce a sentimental sinking,
Drive some to suicide and some to drinking,
But stop far short of any such forlorn
And dismal end, with high, brave hearts like Lorne.
Which proves but seldom fatal, to my thinking.
Defeated hope, sick fancy, if you please,
Often induce a sentimental sinking,
Drive some to suicide and some to drinking,
But stop far short of any such forlorn
And dismal end, with high, brave hearts like Lorne.
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He had come down at first as far as Florida,
And seen the alligator and flamingo;
Then, passing on to regions somewhat torrider,
Reached the French-negro side of San Domingo,
And learned a little of the curious lingo
The people speak there, but conceived no mighty
Love for those Black Republicans of Hayti.
And seen the alligator and flamingo;
Then, passing on to regions somewhat torrider,
Reached the French-negro side of San Domingo,
And learned a little of the curious lingo
The people speak there, but conceived no mighty
Love for those Black Republicans of Hayti.
He had at Port-au-Prince remained a while, and,
With curiously well-furnished note-books, he
Was now returning by the greater Island,
Which sweeps its curve of beauty thro' the sea;
Where trade-winds temper the intensity
Of tropic heats—ah, would they might allay
The passions that distract the land to-day!
With curiously well-furnished note-books, he
Was now returning by the greater Island,
Which sweeps its curve of beauty thro' the sea;
Where trade-winds temper the intensity
Of tropic heats—ah, would they might allay
The passions that distract the land to-day!
And so it chanced that he was now in town,
And at this very moment passing by,
While poor Florinda stood there looking down.
All which seems natural enough; but why
He also chanced just then to turn his eye,
As if he felt the drawing of her glance,
Is a much more mysterious circumstance.
And at this very moment passing by,
While poor Florinda stood there looking down.
All which seems natural enough; but why
He also chanced just then to turn his eye,
As if he felt the drawing of her glance,
Is a much more mysterious circumstance.
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XI.
At the long, open window, through the bars
(Those Cuban fronts are formidably grated)
Burned her deep eyes, like two bright burning stars;
Whereby it seemed that he was really fated
To be for ever fooled and fascinated!
He started, turned half round, then, flushed and flurried,
Lifting his broad sombrero, on he hurried.
(Those Cuban fronts are formidably grated)
Burned her deep eyes, like two bright burning stars;
Whereby it seemed that he was really fated
To be for ever fooled and fascinated!
He started, turned half round, then, flushed and flurried,
Lifting his broad sombrero, on he hurried.
A dream, beyond all dreams of possibility,
Her image there appeared! but none the less
The chance encounter jostled his tranquillity,
And shattered, as you readily will guess,
The new-filled crystal of his happiness;
As if a goblet, which he smiling bore,
Were dashed in fragments on a marble floor.
Her image there appeared! but none the less
The chance encounter jostled his tranquillity,
And shattered, as you readily will guess,
The new-filled crystal of his happiness;
As if a goblet, which he smiling bore,
Were dashed in fragments on a marble floor.
The tropic suns had not so scorched and wilted him
As those two eyes! They left him trembling, weak,
Fevered and shaken, as when first she jilted him.
He strode along with flaming heart and cheek,
As if to find—what strangers need not seek
Long time in vain there, wandering up and down—
The mind's distraction in that novel town.
As those two eyes! They left him trembling, weak,
Fevered and shaken, as when first she jilted him.
He strode along with flaming heart and cheek,
As if to find—what strangers need not seek
Long time in vain there, wandering up and down—
The mind's distraction in that novel town.
198
The place is picturesque with blacks and coolies,
Peasants and panniered beasts: there 's nothing odder
Than the slow-paced, half-hidden, peering mule is,
Beneath his moving stack of fresh green fodder.
It would be better if the streets were broader,
The windows glazed,—of that, though, I'm not sure,—
The hotels better, and mosquitoes fewer.
Peasants and panniered beasts: there 's nothing odder
Than the slow-paced, half-hidden, peering mule is,
Beneath his moving stack of fresh green fodder.
It would be better if the streets were broader,
The windows glazed,—of that, though, I'm not sure,—
The hotels better, and mosquitoes fewer.
Lorne ranged the town; dined, spite of sentiment;
Finished some correspondence for the morrow's
New Orleans mail; then hastened—with intent
To make an article, and drown his sorrows—
To see the town's renowned Plaza de Toros,
The place of bull-fights; for the first and last time
Assisting at the favorite Spanish pastime.
Finished some correspondence for the morrow's
New Orleans mail; then hastened—with intent
To make an article, and drown his sorrows—
To see the town's renowned Plaza de Toros,
The place of bull-fights; for the first and last time
Assisting at the favorite Spanish pastime.
He must have been fastidious, not to fancy
The frenzied multitude's vociferating,—
To wonder, as he did, what people can see,
In frightening, torturing, and infuriating
A poor dumb beast, so wildly fascinating;
What sport there is in all the shrieking, roaring,
Dart-piercing, spearing, bellowing, rushing, goring.
The frenzied multitude's vociferating,—
To wonder, as he did, what people can see,
In frightening, torturing, and infuriating
A poor dumb beast, so wildly fascinating;
What sport there is in all the shrieking, roaring,
Dart-piercing, spearing, bellowing, rushing, goring.
199
Departing with unspeakable disgust,
In sea-baths sheltered from the prowling shark
He cooled his fever and washed off his dust;
Walked the Paseo, spruce as any spark,
Looking in all the carriages, till dark;
Then to the theatre—I blush to say,
Hoping to see Florinda at the play.
In sea-baths sheltered from the prowling shark
He cooled his fever and washed off his dust;
Walked the Paseo, spruce as any spark,
Looking in all the carriages, till dark;
Then to the theatre—I blush to say,
Hoping to see Florinda at the play.
Nor novel scenes, nor all the blare and clamor
Of bull-fights, nor the evening's promenade,
Nor sitting through a Spanish melodrama,
Had power to make him any thing but sad
And irritated; for, alas! he had
No second vision of the eyes that haunted him,
Which being absent, nothing else enchanted him.
Of bull-fights, nor the evening's promenade,
Nor sitting through a Spanish melodrama,
Had power to make him any thing but sad
And irritated; for, alas! he had
No second vision of the eyes that haunted him,
Which being absent, nothing else enchanted him.
And so next day, in anger and despair
Because he could not keep his truant thought,
And scarce his footsteps, from the window where
That momentary glimpse of her was caught,
Safety against his traitorous heart he sought,
And, to its mad attraction risen superior,
Made a short journey into the interior.
Because he could not keep his truant thought,
And scarce his footsteps, from the window where
That momentary glimpse of her was caught,
Safety against his traitorous heart he sought,
And, to its mad attraction risen superior,
Made a short journey into the interior.
200
2. PART II.
HOMEWARD VOYAGE.
I.
Know ye the land?—and so forth. Cuba seems
The later western Eden of our planet.
What wafted incense from the gate of dreams,
What heavenly zephyrs hover o'er and fan it!
With groves of orange, mango, and pomegranate,
And flowering forests through whose wealth of blooms,
Like living fires, dart birds of gorgeous plumes.
The later western Eden of our planet.
What wafted incense from the gate of dreams,
What heavenly zephyrs hover o'er and fan it!
With groves of orange, mango, and pomegranate,
And flowering forests through whose wealth of blooms,
Like living fires, dart birds of gorgeous plumes.
There by still bays the tall flamingo stands;
The sunrise flame of whose reflected form
Crimsons the glassy wave and glistening sands.
There, large and luminous, throughout the warm,
Soft summer eves myriads of fireflies swarm;
Like the bright spirits of departed flowers
Nightly revisiting their native bowers.
The sunrise flame of whose reflected form
Crimsons the glassy wave and glistening sands.
There, large and luminous, throughout the warm,
Soft summer eves myriads of fireflies swarm;
Like the bright spirits of departed flowers
Nightly revisiting their native bowers.
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Its own rich, varying world the isle enfolds;
Where glowing Nature seems most prodigal
Of life and beauty; where the eye beholds
Orchards that blossom while their ripe fruits fall;
Mountains, refulgent vales; and, curved round all,
From some palm-crested summit seen afar,
The gleaming ocean's steel-bright scimitar.
Where glowing Nature seems most prodigal
Of life and beauty; where the eye beholds
Orchards that blossom while their ripe fruits fall;
Mountains, refulgent vales; and, curved round all,
From some palm-crested summit seen afar,
The gleaming ocean's steel-bright scimitar.
II.
All which to Lorne was an intoxication,
That fed his passion while it soothed his pain.
Round aromatic jungle and plantation,
Gardens of shaded coffee, seas of cane
Sweeping their billowy verdure through the plain,
He breathed the flame of indolent desire,
And carried in his heart those eyes of fire.
That fed his passion while it soothed his pain.
Round aromatic jungle and plantation,
Gardens of shaded coffee, seas of cane
Sweeping their billowy verdure through the plain,
He breathed the flame of indolent desire,
And carried in his heart those eyes of fire.
She was unhappy! in the look she gave him
Deep sorrow made impassioned, sad appeal.
So love conspired with pity to enslave him,
And the sweet hope that still her heart might feel
The heavenly hurt which only he could heal!
Until at last this new infatuation
Became an irresistible temptation.
Deep sorrow made impassioned, sad appeal.
So love conspired with pity to enslave him,
And the sweet hope that still her heart might feel
The heavenly hurt which only he could heal!
Until at last this new infatuation
Became an irresistible temptation.
202
Back to the city, with a wretched sense
Of his own guilty weakness, in a tremor
Of passionate haste and torturing suspense,
To meet her, flew the miserable dreamer;—
But saw, just coming into port, a steamer,
At whose proud peak the Yankee ensign waved;
While something seemed to whisper, “You are saved!
Of his own guilty weakness, in a tremor
Of passionate haste and torturing suspense,
To meet her, flew the miserable dreamer;—
But saw, just coming into port, a steamer,
At whose proud peak the Yankee ensign waved;
While something seemed to whisper, “You are saved!
“Fly! fly!” it said: “there is no middle course!
Your coming cannot help, but only harm her.
Rally your manhood's enervated force,
Put on determination's burnished armor!
Sin is the lovely snake, the deadly charmer;
The tempted soul, the bird that round it hovers;
Flight, the sole safety for sore-tempted lovers!”
Your coming cannot help, but only harm her.
Rally your manhood's enervated force,
Put on determination's burnished armor!
Sin is the lovely snake, the deadly charmer;
The tempted soul, the bird that round it hovers;
Flight, the sole safety for sore-tempted lovers!”
All which was seconded by sober reason,
Making his duty in the matter clear:
'Twas late in February, and the season
So dangerous to the northern blood was near;
The best hotels were bad and very dear:
So Prudence, joined with Virtue, bade him leave her,
Avoid expense, temptation, and the fever.
Making his duty in the matter clear:
'Twas late in February, and the season
So dangerous to the northern blood was near;
The best hotels were bad and very dear:
So Prudence, joined with Virtue, bade him leave her,
Avoid expense, temptation, and the fever.
203
Subtler considerations, too, assisted,
No doubt, to make him do as he was bidden;
For conduct is a complex cord, that 's twisted
Of many a strand of motive, seen or hidden,
And sometimes with the weightiest purpose slid in,
And covered perfectly from tip to tip,—
The belly that gives vengeance to the whip.
No doubt, to make him do as he was bidden;
For conduct is a complex cord, that 's twisted
Of many a strand of motive, seen or hidden,
And sometimes with the weightiest purpose slid in,
And covered perfectly from tip to tip,—
The belly that gives vengeance to the whip.
With Lorne, this may have been deep-wounded pride
And love's despite: “She shall not say I sought her!”
And so, his passport claimed, “Farewell,” he cried,
“Queen of the Isles, Spain's ill-adopted daughter!
Farewell your plumy palms and blue sea-water!
Your toiling slaves and idle señoritas,
Paseos, chain-gangs, bull-fights, and mosquitoes!”
And love's despite: “She shall not say I sought her!”
And so, his passport claimed, “Farewell,” he cried,
“Queen of the Isles, Spain's ill-adopted daughter!
Farewell your plumy palms and blue sea-water!
Your toiling slaves and idle señoritas,
Paseos, chain-gangs, bull-fights, and mosquitoes!”
III.
'Twas really when the steamer sailed next day,
That Lorne, on board her, breathed his last farewell;
When from the port with countless streamers gay,
By frowning bastion and tall citadel
They passed, and took the grand Atlantic swell
And freshening sea-breeze, which are always found
Exhilarating to the homeward-bound.
That Lorne, on board her, breathed his last farewell;
When from the port with countless streamers gay,
By frowning bastion and tall citadel
They passed, and took the grand Atlantic swell
And freshening sea-breeze, which are always found
Exhilarating to the homeward-bound.
204
He paced the deck, and puffed his cigarito,
'Mid oranges in many a fragrant pile
(Barrels of oranges, stacked crates of ditto),
And watched the gorgeous sunset's golden smile
Fade on the lovely, fast-receding isle,
Then the soft, purple-pinioned twilight sweep
The dark-green land and iridescent deep.
'Mid oranges in many a fragrant pile
(Barrels of oranges, stacked crates of ditto),
And watched the gorgeous sunset's golden smile
Fade on the lovely, fast-receding isle,
Then the soft, purple-pinioned twilight sweep
The dark-green land and iridescent deep.
Castles and villas, hills and plumy palms,
Vanished, to live for ever in his view
Enring'd in rosy equinoctial calms.
The burnished waves wore many a wondrous hue;
Stars twinkled in the deep eternal blue;
And on the horizon of the sea, behold
The Southern Cross, with nails of burning gold!
Vanished, to live for ever in his view
Enring'd in rosy equinoctial calms.
The burnished waves wore many a wondrous hue;
Stars twinkled in the deep eternal blue;
And on the horizon of the sea, behold
The Southern Cross, with nails of burning gold!
IV.
The waves, the heavens, the soothing, bland sea air,
The beauty and the life, within him stirred
Depths of delicious longing, sweet despair;
And gazing landward till his vision blurred,
He breathed farewell to her. But now was heard,
Passing along the lower deck and upper,
A welcome call; and he went down to supper.
The beauty and the life, within him stirred
Depths of delicious longing, sweet despair;
And gazing landward till his vision blurred,
He breathed farewell to her. But now was heard,
Passing along the lower deck and upper,
A welcome call; and he went down to supper.
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With excellent appetite, if one must know it,
Which at the long, well-lighted cabin table,
Crowded with hungry passengers, our poet
Was solacing as well as he was able,
When, glancing round the clattering, chattering Babel,
He paused, aghast,—a slice of tongue half swallowed,—
Seeing the Fate which, flying, he had followed!
Which at the long, well-lighted cabin table,
Crowded with hungry passengers, our poet
Was solacing as well as he was able,
When, glancing round the clattering, chattering Babel,
He paused, aghast,—a slice of tongue half swallowed,—
Seeing the Fate which, flying, he had followed!
Florinda! pale but lovely still; enrapt in
The delicate discussion of cold chicken,
And some engaging topic with the Captain.
Just then, amid loud talk and teacups clicking,
Over the wing she happened to be picking
She looked—and there was Lorne, quite dazed and pallid,
Staring at her across a dish of salad.
The delicate discussion of cold chicken,
And some engaging topic with the Captain.
Just then, amid loud talk and teacups clicking,
Over the wing she happened to be picking
She looked—and there was Lorne, quite dazed and pallid,
Staring at her across a dish of salad.
He was a sort of picturesque Adonis,
With eyebrows of the true Adonis curve;
Eyes all expression; brown hair waved upon his
Broad, graceful brow; fine nostrils, full of nerve;
And something in the pure face that might serve
To make you like what still you might condemn in it,
And left him beautiful, but not effeminate.
With eyebrows of the true Adonis curve;
Eyes all expression; brown hair waved upon his
Broad, graceful brow; fine nostrils, full of nerve;
And something in the pure face that might serve
To make you like what still you might condemn in it,
And left him beautiful, but not effeminate.
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Their eyes met for a moment; and the lady's
Flashed on him, with a sudden dilatation,
Such grateful, radiant, sweet surprise as made his
Whole being tremble with deep agitation,—
Gave his quick spirits a singular elation,
And mantled his white forehead with a flush
Which deepened to a quite decided blush.
Flashed on him, with a sudden dilatation,
Such grateful, radiant, sweet surprise as made his
Whole being tremble with deep agitation,—
Gave his quick spirits a singular elation,
And mantled his white forehead with a flush
Which deepened to a quite decided blush.
She did not blush (men often blush, somehow,
When women don't): those eyes divinely bright,
Beneath the beaming crescent of her brow,—
Venus's glow beside Diana's light
(I trust my classic metaphors are right),—
Shone lustrously upon him, while his gaze
Sank modestly before their melting rays.
When women don't): those eyes divinely bright,
Beneath the beaming crescent of her brow,—
Venus's glow beside Diana's light
(I trust my classic metaphors are right),—
Shone lustrously upon him, while his gaze
Sank modestly before their melting rays.
V.
Ere long she rose; and, pausing just to turn on
Poor Lorne a parting look, away she swept.
Where, all the while (he marvelled),—where was Vernon?
Sea-sick, perhaps, and so his room he kept.
Lorne's thoughts were flame: he sought the air, and stept
Up the steep stairs as light of heart and proud
As if he had been climbing on a cloud.
Poor Lorne a parting look, away she swept.
Where, all the while (he marvelled),—where was Vernon?
Sea-sick, perhaps, and so his room he kept.
Lorne's thoughts were flame: he sought the air, and stept
Up the steep stairs as light of heart and proud
As if he had been climbing on a cloud.
207
Now in the night he found a deeper charm;
And to and fro he passed with pensive pace,—
When, lo, Florinda on the Captain's arm!
He knew her by her shape of perfect grace,
Then by the moonlit beauty of her face,
And soft, low accents, as they passed him by,
And found a seat beneath the open sky.
And to and fro he passed with pensive pace,—
When, lo, Florinda on the Captain's arm!
He knew her by her shape of perfect grace,
Then by the moonlit beauty of her face,
And soft, low accents, as they passed him by,
And found a seat beneath the open sky.
They passed—but what was that his ears had heard?
Vernon not with her—gone to his plantation!
Never before had simple, spoken word
Struck all his heartstrings into such vibration.
But four months married, and a separation!
And she so pale! could there have been a quarrel?
He queried, with an interest quite immoral.
Vernon not with her—gone to his plantation!
Never before had simple, spoken word
Struck all his heartstrings into such vibration.
But four months married, and a separation!
And she so pale! could there have been a quarrel?
He queried, with an interest quite immoral.
Now here were they, old lovers! For a minute
He questioned his poor flattered conscience, whether
The hand of Providence might not be in it.
That they should thus be voyaging together
In the luxurious, lulling, lovely weather,
Just after he so virtuously had shunned her,
Appears indeed a matter of some wonder.
He questioned his poor flattered conscience, whether
The hand of Providence might not be in it.
That they should thus be voyaging together
In the luxurious, lulling, lovely weather,
Just after he so virtuously had shunned her,
Appears indeed a matter of some wonder.
208
What was the Voice that hurried him abroad,
He deemed his better angel's? Providence
Seems after all a sort of two-edged sword,—
Now the direct, miraculous defence
Of piety and helpless innocence;
Then, suddenly reversed, it seems no less
To shape the ways of sin and wickedness.
He deemed his better angel's? Providence
Seems after all a sort of two-edged sword,—
Now the direct, miraculous defence
Of piety and helpless innocence;
Then, suddenly reversed, it seems no less
To shape the ways of sin and wickedness.
Could we but know when life's true light is given!
Are there attendant powers of good and evil,
One Influence, rightly deemed the Will of Heaven,
And one which we—in phrase not quite so civil—
Succinctly term temptation of the Devil?
And both so like! Would some one, who has seen them,
Might teach us to discriminate between them!
Are there attendant powers of good and evil,
One Influence, rightly deemed the Will of Heaven,
And one which we—in phrase not quite so civil—
Succinctly term temptation of the Devil?
And both so like! Would some one, who has seen them,
Might teach us to discriminate between them!
Here, things are so astonishingly mixed,
And morals still so little understood,
It takes a saint indeed to choose betwixt
The bad that 's pleasant and the bitter good,
Always with perfect faith and certitude!
Evil, perhaps, being nothing more nor less
Than good in disproportion, or excess.
And morals still so little understood,
It takes a saint indeed to choose betwixt
The bad that 's pleasant and the bitter good,
Always with perfect faith and certitude!
Evil, perhaps, being nothing more nor less
Than good in disproportion, or excess.
209
Impartial nature fosters and upholds them
By the same equal laws, and it may be
The same great brooding power of Love enfolds them,
With the vast patience of eternity!
The beams of Life are laid in Harmony;
In whose triumphal, everlasting glory
Discord shall be resolved.—But to our story.
By the same equal laws, and it may be
The same great brooding power of Love enfolds them,
With the vast patience of eternity!
The beams of Life are laid in Harmony;
In whose triumphal, everlasting glory
Discord shall be resolved.—But to our story.
VI.
Lorne meant to show a dignified reserve
By walking at a cool, respectful distance;
But towards Florinda still his feet would swerve,
Drawn by a power beyond him, whose persistence
Found in him little and still less resistance,
Till, starting with the Captain from their place,
The lady met him almost face to face.
By walking at a cool, respectful distance;
But towards Florinda still his feet would swerve,
Drawn by a power beyond him, whose persistence
Found in him little and still less resistance,
Till, starting with the Captain from their place,
The lady met him almost face to face.
Pure accident, of course. She bowed—quite slowly,
As if her eyes might possibly deceive her.
With proudly meek, magnificently lowly
Obeisance, under his uplifted beaver,
He passed aside as if inclined to leave her.
Regardless of his coldness or his scorn,
She cried, “Why, truly! it is—Robert Lorne!”
As if her eyes might possibly deceive her.
With proudly meek, magnificently lowly
Obeisance, under his uplifted beaver,
He passed aside as if inclined to leave her.
Regardless of his coldness or his scorn,
She cried, “Why, truly! it is—Robert Lorne!”
210
Which he acknowledged, with another bend
And civil show of passing. She detained him;
And introduced the Captain to her “friend;”
And still with silvery eloquence enchained him,
And with a charming petulance arraigned him
For visiting the Cuban capital
Without so much as giving her a call!
And civil show of passing. She detained him;
And introduced the Captain to her “friend;”
And still with silvery eloquence enchained him,
And with a charming petulance arraigned him
For visiting the Cuban capital
Without so much as giving her a call!
“My husband would have been right glad to meet you!
You came to Cuba—tell me when and how!”
“Excuse me,” said the Captain,—“let me seat you,”—
Placing a pair of camp-stools:—“I 've just now
Some duties which will take me to the bow.”
And, seeing Robert and Florinda seated,
That guileless instrument of fate retreated.
You came to Cuba—tell me when and how!”
“Excuse me,” said the Captain,—“let me seat you,”—
Placing a pair of camp-stools:—“I 've just now
Some duties which will take me to the bow.”
And, seeing Robert and Florinda seated,
That guileless instrument of fate retreated.
They took their places mutely, without protest,
And sat as if they had been carved in stone.
For hearts estranged, as you perhaps have noticed,
When brought together and thus left alone,
Cannot so easily resume the tone
Of light society, which often covers
The aching wounds of parted friends and lovers.
And sat as if they had been carved in stone.
For hearts estranged, as you perhaps have noticed,
When brought together and thus left alone,
Cannot so easily resume the tone
Of light society, which often covers
The aching wounds of parted friends and lovers.
211
He who from his late Cuban trip had come
Back to the town to seek her in such haste,
Now in her presence sat constrained and dumb;
And he who fondly many a time had placed
A lover's arm about that lovely waist,
Was strangely now become, while sitting by her,
A man of outward ice and inward fire.
Back to the town to seek her in such haste,
Now in her presence sat constrained and dumb;
And he who fondly many a time had placed
A lover's arm about that lovely waist,
Was strangely now become, while sitting by her,
A man of outward ice and inward fire.
The lady was the first to speak, of course.
“You hate me, Robert!”—accents quick and low.
He answered in a voice repressed and hoarse:
“What reason have I?”—“O, you shunned me so!
But, Robert, there are things you do not know!
Can't we be friends? I need a friend! O Rob!”—
Here she was interrupted by a sob.
“You hate me, Robert!”—accents quick and low.
He answered in a voice repressed and hoarse:
“What reason have I?”—“O, you shunned me so!
But, Robert, there are things you do not know!
Can't we be friends? I need a friend! O Rob!”—
Here she was interrupted by a sob.
Then hardly could he master the impassioned,
Wild words that forced his lips: “Have you forgot—
Florinda!” But he checked himself, and fashioned
In the firm moulds of prudent speech his thought,
And told how he from first to last had sought
Her happiness: “And so,” he vowed, “you still
Shall have my whole life's service, if you will.”
Wild words that forced his lips: “Have you forgot—
Florinda!” But he checked himself, and fashioned
In the firm moulds of prudent speech his thought,
And told how he from first to last had sought
Her happiness: “And so,” he vowed, “you still
Shall have my whole life's service, if you will.”
212
They talked; and words brought kind alleviation
Of pain to both, and in new friendship bound them;
And the sweet sense of reconciliation
Diffused an atmosphere of bliss around them;
Till quite too soon the Captain came and found them;
And, happy in her late lost friend's recapture,
Florinda left him to his new-found rapture.
Of pain to both, and in new friendship bound them;
And the sweet sense of reconciliation
Diffused an atmosphere of bliss around them;
Till quite too soon the Captain came and found them;
And, happy in her late lost friend's recapture,
Florinda left him to his new-found rapture.
VII.
A golden shallop on the rim of Ocean,
The new moon poised, a slowly sinking crescent.
With throbbing heart and steady heaving motion,
Strove the strong ship: the deep was phosphorescent,
And on through fiery billows of liquescent,
Immingled meteors, rolling them asunder,
She kept her course through all that night of wonder.
The new moon poised, a slowly sinking crescent.
With throbbing heart and steady heaving motion,
Strove the strong ship: the deep was phosphorescent,
And on through fiery billows of liquescent,
Immingled meteors, rolling them asunder,
She kept her course through all that night of wonder.
O dear, inconstant Seraph of Repose!
Wing to the homes of woe thy downy flight;
Visit the couch of wretchedness, and close
The aching sense that wearies of the night!
But when immortal Freshness and Delight
Sail with the enraptured soul the glorious deep,
What have we then to do with thee, O Sleep?
Wing to the homes of woe thy downy flight;
Visit the couch of wretchedness, and close
The aching sense that wearies of the night!
But when immortal Freshness and Delight
Sail with the enraptured soul the glorious deep,
What have we then to do with thee, O Sleep?
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Remembering all her words, her looks, her sighs,
Lorne vowed: “I will not wrong her; Heaven! I swear
For her sake endless love and sacrifice!
Just to be near her, and to breathe the air
She blesses with the fragrance of her hair,—
To shiver at the rustle of her dress,—
Is more than other mortals' happiness!”
Lorne vowed: “I will not wrong her; Heaven! I swear
For her sake endless love and sacrifice!
Just to be near her, and to breathe the air
She blesses with the fragrance of her hair,—
To shiver at the rustle of her dress,—
Is more than other mortals' happiness!”
He would not change his lot for any other.
She need not love him: he would only ask
To be a little dearer than a brother!
No richer blessing, no diviner task,
Than to defend and comfort her, to bask
A little in her presence, and so feed
At those bright beams his heart's eternal need.
She need not love him: he would only ask
To be a little dearer than a brother!
No richer blessing, no diviner task,
Than to defend and comfort her, to bask
A little in her presence, and so feed
At those bright beams his heart's eternal need.
Love lights all men and women; and all things
In youth and loveliness to love invoke us;
And beauty is a burning-glass that brings
The soft, diffusive sunshine to a focus,—
Whose rays, it may be said, sometimes provoke us
To kindle and consume with sweet desire,
While yet the glass feels nothing of the fire.
In youth and loveliness to love invoke us;
And beauty is a burning-glass that brings
The soft, diffusive sunshine to a focus,—
Whose rays, it may be said, sometimes provoke us
To kindle and consume with sweet desire,
While yet the glass feels nothing of the fire.
214
If she be cold, so much the worse for her!
To be beloved is much; but far above
All that the whole world's worship can confer
Of outward blessing, is the heart's own love,—
Even that poor passion which adores a glove
Or lady's slipper,—though one 's apt to find
Small solace in it, if she 's too unkind.
To be beloved is much; but far above
All that the whole world's worship can confer
Of outward blessing, is the heart's own love,—
Even that poor passion which adores a glove
Or lady's slipper,—though one 's apt to find
Small solace in it, if she 's too unkind.
VIII.
Of all the wonders I have heard or read of,
In these Centennial days and years of wonder,—
From this which tells us what the stars are made of,
To that which over hemispheres and under
The seas that hold the continents asunder
Speeds our swift thought,—of all, from first to latest,
The mighty Ocean steamship is the greatest.
In these Centennial days and years of wonder,—
From this which tells us what the stars are made of,
To that which over hemispheres and under
The seas that hold the continents asunder
Speeds our swift thought,—of all, from first to latest,
The mighty Ocean steamship is the greatest.
To favoring gales it opens snow-white wings,
But takes all gales with laughter; it salutes
Strange lands and climates in its course, and brings
To northern shores full-ripened tropic fruits;
A Titan, that to power and speed transmutes
Its daily ration of huge tons of coal,
And seems almost to be endowed with soul.
But takes all gales with laughter; it salutes
Strange lands and climates in its course, and brings
To northern shores full-ripened tropic fruits;
A Titan, that to power and speed transmutes
Its daily ration of huge tons of coal,
And seems almost to be endowed with soul.
215
When I behold this little peopled world,
Large as an asteroid, in the nether blue,
Its flashing wheels, proud decks, and flags unfurled;
Then fancy that ancestral savage who
First pushed from shore with paddle and canoe,—
I'm forced to the Darwinian conclusion
That here 's a masterpiece of evolution.
Large as an asteroid, in the nether blue,
Its flashing wheels, proud decks, and flags unfurled;
Then fancy that ancestral savage who
First pushed from shore with paddle and canoe,—
I'm forced to the Darwinian conclusion
That here 's a masterpiece of evolution.
From the first skiff of sutured skins or bark
To the three-decker with its thundering guns,—
From Jason's classic junk, or Noah's ark,
To the grand steamship of five thousand tons,—
The thing developed: just as Man was once—
Well, not a monkey; that he never was—
But something less, evolved through Nature's laws.
To the three-decker with its thundering guns,—
From Jason's classic junk, or Noah's ark,
To the grand steamship of five thousand tons,—
The thing developed: just as Man was once—
Well, not a monkey; that he never was—
But something less, evolved through Nature's laws.
Allah il Allah! great is Evolution,
And Darwin eminently is its Prophet!
Out of primeval chaos and confusion
It massed the nebulous orb, and fashioned of it
The sun and planets; one whereof it saw fit
To finish off with most attractive features,
And make the abode of curious living creatures.
And Darwin eminently is its Prophet!
Out of primeval chaos and confusion
It massed the nebulous orb, and fashioned of it
The sun and planets; one whereof it saw fit
To finish off with most attractive features,
And make the abode of curious living creatures.
216
All which I do most potently believe,
Taking large stock in Natural Selection.
But, gentlemen, I cannot quite conceive—
Since centuries of plotting and reflection
Have brought to pass the steamboat's last perfection—
What power, without intelligence or plan,
Evolved the wonders of the World and Man.
Taking large stock in Natural Selection.
But, gentlemen, I cannot quite conceive—
Since centuries of plotting and reflection
Have brought to pass the steamboat's last perfection—
What power, without intelligence or plan,
Evolved the wonders of the World and Man.
Not from without, 'tis true, with toil and din,
Laboriously, the World was built or moulded:
By its own law, divinely, from within,
No doubt, the incubated egg unfolded
To the fledged miracle we now behold it.
Is thought evolved? then thought, I dare affirm,
Impregnated the primal cosmic germ.
Laboriously, the World was built or moulded:
By its own law, divinely, from within,
No doubt, the incubated egg unfolded
To the fledged miracle we now behold it.
Is thought evolved? then thought, I dare affirm,
Impregnated the primal cosmic germ.
Your gospel is a worthy contribution,
Far as it goes; I thank you: yet I find,
Scanning the puppet-show of Evolution,
A vast unoutlined Presence moves behind
The wavering screen that hides the Will and Mind;
And shows, according as you take your stand,
More or less certain glimpses of a Hand.
Far as it goes; I thank you: yet I find,
Scanning the puppet-show of Evolution,
A vast unoutlined Presence moves behind
The wavering screen that hides the Will and Mind;
And shows, according as you take your stand,
More or less certain glimpses of a Hand.
217
IX.
Trailing far back upon the blue Atlantic
Its smoky banner; through the warm Gulf Stream
Rolling its white wake; with the slow, gigantic
One arm of its for-ever-beckoning beam;
Panting, with heart of fire and breath of steam,
The strong ship kept—as I set out to say—
Its steady northward course day after day.
Its smoky banner; through the warm Gulf Stream
Rolling its white wake; with the slow, gigantic
One arm of its for-ever-beckoning beam;
Panting, with heart of fire and breath of steam,
The strong ship kept—as I set out to say—
Its steady northward course day after day.
The passengers, beneath the welcome shade
Of awnings over all the vessel spread,
Fanned by the sea-breeze which their own speed made,
Lounged half asleep, smoked, walked, and talked, and read,
Or watched the flocking gulls that came and fled,—
Now circled close in quest of food, then fought,
Far back, about some morsel one had caught.
Of awnings over all the vessel spread,
Fanned by the sea-breeze which their own speed made,
Lounged half asleep, smoked, walked, and talked, and read,
Or watched the flocking gulls that came and fled,—
Now circled close in quest of food, then fought,
Far back, about some morsel one had caught.
Two days of calm; when all the sea seemed one
Vast fluctuating field of satin sheen,
Rolling and undulating in the sun,
With evanescent gloss of gold and green:
No land at last, not even a sail was seen,
Nor any steadfast thing to rest the eyes on,
Within the circle of the sea's horizon.
Vast fluctuating field of satin sheen,
Rolling and undulating in the sun,
With evanescent gloss of gold and green:
No land at last, not even a sail was seen,
Nor any steadfast thing to rest the eyes on,
Within the circle of the sea's horizon.
218
The bird of love, in days so truly halcyon,
Upon the billows well might build her nest!
And then the nights! when flashed the moon's bright falchion
Across old Ocean's palpitating breast;—
When, watching, lingering later than the rest,
Our lover-friends, forgetting all prudential
Considerations, grew quite confidential.
Upon the billows well might build her nest!
And then the nights! when flashed the moon's bright falchion
Across old Ocean's palpitating breast;—
When, watching, lingering later than the rest,
Our lover-friends, forgetting all prudential
Considerations, grew quite confidential.
He, rapt, devoted, with no thought of wronging
Vernon or her: she, free from ill intent,
Needing the counsels of a friend, and longing
For sympathy,—if that be innocent,—
Confessed the dreadful, sudden, sad event,
Which, falling so mysteriously, bereft her
Almost of reason when her husband left her.
Vernon or her: she, free from ill intent,
Needing the counsels of a friend, and longing
For sympathy,—if that be innocent,—
Confessed the dreadful, sudden, sad event,
Which, falling so mysteriously, bereft her
Almost of reason when her husband left her.
“We were so happy! I was just beginning
To learn how dear he was!”—Lorne's spirits fell.
“O, do you think I 've any chance of winning
His love again?”—Poor Robert could not tell.
“I 've still one friend, thank Heaven!”—That pleased him well.
“I 've never seen a happy moment since,
And never shall again!”—which made him wince.
To learn how dear he was!”—Lorne's spirits fell.
“O, do you think I 've any chance of winning
His love again?”—Poor Robert could not tell.
“I 've still one friend, thank Heaven!”—That pleased him well.
“I 've never seen a happy moment since,
And never shall again!”—which made him wince.
219
“What do you think—what could have been the trouble?”
Revolving his conjectures, Lorne let fall,—
“The bursting of a speculative bubble.”
“I shall be happy yet, if that is all,
And he is left me!”—Somehow this was gall.
“But oh, we never shall be reunited,
I know!”—at which the villain was delighted.
Revolving his conjectures, Lorne let fall,—
“The bursting of a speculative bubble.”
“I shall be happy yet, if that is all,
And he is left me!”—Somehow this was gall.
“But oh, we never shall be reunited,
I know!”—at which the villain was delighted.
“He may be—I'm afraid—” she hesitated:
“That is, I hope, I trust it isn't true!”
“Some men get jealous,” Robert intimated.
“Jealous, I mean; and—how absurd!—of you.
Oh dear, we must not sit here as we do,
And talk together!—Rob, it isn't right!”
But still they talked together, day and night.
“That is, I hope, I trust it isn't true!”
“Some men get jealous,” Robert intimated.
“Jealous, I mean; and—how absurd!—of you.
Oh dear, we must not sit here as we do,
And talk together!—Rob, it isn't right!”
But still they talked together, day and night.
And Robert wished (as many on like occasion
Wish as devoutly) that the voyage might never
On earth arrive at any termination,
But to the havens of bliss fare on for ever!
Dreading the end, which all too soon would sever
This highly satisfactory arrangement,
And bring perhaps, with parting, fresh estrangement.
Wish as devoutly) that the voyage might never
On earth arrive at any termination,
But to the havens of bliss fare on for ever!
Dreading the end, which all too soon would sever
This highly satisfactory arrangement,
And bring perhaps, with parting, fresh estrangement.
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X.
On the third morning something seemed the matter as
Lorne went on deck: the winds were piping madly;
The ship was toiling somewhere off Cape Hatteras,
Breasting the waves and spray, and pitching badly;
Few faces seen, and those looked blue, and sadly
Dispirited: with the rising of the seas,
The mercury 'd sunk, some twenty-five degrees.
Lorne went on deck: the winds were piping madly;
The ship was toiling somewhere off Cape Hatteras,
Breasting the waves and spray, and pitching badly;
Few faces seen, and those looked blue, and sadly
Dispirited: with the rising of the seas,
The mercury 'd sunk, some twenty-five degrees.
The call to breakfast—that sweet note of warning
To hungry passengers—was something few heard,
And fewer still obeyed, that dismal morning.
Here with his steaks came staggering up a steward;
There—as they gave a sudden lurch to leeward—
A pale wretch, crawling in with some ability,
Shot out again with singular agility.
To hungry passengers—was something few heard,
And fewer still obeyed, that dismal morning.
Here with his steaks came staggering up a steward;
There—as they gave a sudden lurch to leeward—
A pale wretch, crawling in with some ability,
Shot out again with singular agility.
The dishes rattled and the coffee spilled,
And over all, instead of general mirth,
A ghastly gloom the dreary cabin filled:
No ladies seen,—the saddest thing on earth
To Lorne; who, losing heart, back to his berth
Groped wretchedly, at length, and laid himself
Quietly on that dormitory shelf.
And over all, instead of general mirth,
A ghastly gloom the dreary cabin filled:
No ladies seen,—the saddest thing on earth
To Lorne; who, losing heart, back to his berth
Groped wretchedly, at length, and laid himself
Quietly on that dormitory shelf.
221
Of all things unromantic and accursed,
To interrupt a pretty love affair,
Sea-sickness is the meanest and the worst!
That is a woe devotion cannot share;
Nor can one be expected much to care
Whether the hungry heart shall feed or famish,
When at each roll the stomach's growing qualmish.
To interrupt a pretty love affair,
Sea-sickness is the meanest and the worst!
That is a woe devotion cannot share;
Nor can one be expected much to care
Whether the hungry heart shall feed or famish,
When at each roll the stomach's growing qualmish.
For six-and-thirty hours the gale continued,
And some weak souls on board had fears of sinking;
But still triumphantly the iron-sinewed,
Grim Titan faced the billows without blinking.
Lorne kept his berth, and passed the time in thinking,
In sending now and then to make inquiry
For some one's health, and scribbling in his diary.
And some weak souls on board had fears of sinking;
But still triumphantly the iron-sinewed,
Grim Titan faced the billows without blinking.
Lorne kept his berth, and passed the time in thinking,
In sending now and then to make inquiry
For some one's health, and scribbling in his diary.
Five days from port, at midday, they made entry
Into Manhattan bay: the wind was bracing,
The storm had lulled, the skies were bleak and wintry,
And strange appeared the leafless trees, the lacing
Of snows on roof and shore, so soon replacing,
To eyes filled with the south, the glorious calms,
The fruits and foliage of the land of palms.
Into Manhattan bay: the wind was bracing,
The storm had lulled, the skies were bleak and wintry,
And strange appeared the leafless trees, the lacing
Of snows on roof and shore, so soon replacing,
To eyes filled with the south, the glorious calms,
The fruits and foliage of the land of palms.
222
The passengers, now muffled to the ears,
Watched the slow steamer gliding to the dock,
The tugs, the lighters, and the ship-lined piers,
The river ice in many a mottled block,
And on a drifting mass the latest flock
Of gulls, just lighted, heading all one way,
Towards the cold wind that beat the ruffled bay.
Watched the slow steamer gliding to the dock,
The tugs, the lighters, and the ship-lined piers,
The river ice in many a mottled block,
And on a drifting mass the latest flock
Of gulls, just lighted, heading all one way,
Towards the cold wind that beat the ruffled bay.
Lorne lingered near Florinda, dull and dreamy:
“And so we part!” he said. “But not for long,”
She answered sweetly. “You will come and see me—
To-morrow—soon—I know you will be strong,
And not do any thing that might seem wrong!
When one has friends, one wishes to be near them;
But folks will talk so,—'tis a shame to hear them!
“And so we part!” he said. “But not for long,”
She answered sweetly. “You will come and see me—
To-morrow—soon—I know you will be strong,
And not do any thing that might seem wrong!
When one has friends, one wishes to be near them;
But folks will talk so,—'tis a shame to hear them!
“I shall be watched now, quoted, and reported.
I 'd have my independence if I could!
But, really, Rob, a woman can't afford it,—
To have her motives all misunderstood!
So now I'm sure you will be very good,
And not extend your courtesies too far,
But always seem—well, just the friend you are!”
I 'd have my independence if I could!
But, really, Rob, a woman can't afford it,—
To have her motives all misunderstood!
So now I'm sure you will be very good,
And not extend your courtesies too far,
But always seem—well, just the friend you are!”
223
Lorne was not happy: outwardly heroical,
He helped her to a coach: she smiled: he bowed;
Then, with despair at heart, stood stern and stoical
Amidst the beckoning, hauling, bawling crowd
Of hackmen (so unreasonably loud!)
And watched the rattling vehicle that carried her
Back to her Brooklyn home, where Vernon married her.
He helped her to a coach: she smiled: he bowed;
Then, with despair at heart, stood stern and stoical
Amidst the beckoning, hauling, bawling crowd
Of hackmen (so unreasonably loud!)
And watched the rattling vehicle that carried her
Back to her Brooklyn home, where Vernon married her.
224
3. PART III.
THE FORSAKEN BRIDE.
I.
Foreseeing all her friends' immense astonishment,
Going to meet it with an equal dread,
Florinda gave her maid a strict admonishment
Just what to say, and what to leave unsaid,
To questions soon to shower upon her head;
For, first suspicions having proved unjust,
The girl was granted all the greater trust.
Going to meet it with an equal dread,
Florinda gave her maid a strict admonishment
Just what to say, and what to leave unsaid,
To questions soon to shower upon her head;
For, first suspicions having proved unjust,
The girl was granted all the greater trust.
Deep was the dear old Aunt's amazement, meeting
At the hall door the unexpected bride.
Then, having passed the first tumultuous greeting,
“Your husband, Florie! where is he?” she cried,
Still more bewildered; while the niece replied,
“Some sudden and important information
Obliged him to return by his plantation.”
At the hall door the unexpected bride.
Then, having passed the first tumultuous greeting,
“Your husband, Florie! where is he?” she cried,
Still more bewildered; while the niece replied,
“Some sudden and important information
Obliged him to return by his plantation.”
225
“Without his bride!” “Why, Aunt, 'twas getting late—
'Twas not thought best that I should risk my health.
The owner of so splendid an estate
Of course is burdened with the cares of wealth.
In politics he mixes too—by stealth;
For he is quite above those sordid natures
That fill our congresses and legislatures.
'Twas not thought best that I should risk my health.
The owner of so splendid an estate
Of course is burdened with the cares of wealth.
In politics he mixes too—by stealth;
For he is quite above those sordid natures
That fill our congresses and legislatures.
“We came directly by the boat—so pleasant!
I missed my dearest husband, I confess,
But—O dear Aunt! who do you think was present
Among the passengers? You cannot guess!
Surely there 's no one I expected less
To see on board than Mr. Robert Lorne!
He treated me at first with downright scorn,
I missed my dearest husband, I confess,
But—O dear Aunt! who do you think was present
Among the passengers? You cannot guess!
Surely there 's no one I expected less
To see on board than Mr. Robert Lorne!
He treated me at first with downright scorn,
“As if I'd really done him some great evil.
I could not speak to him, and why should he seek
An interview? But he at length grew civil,
And sent his brandy-flask when I was sea-sick,
(The lightest gale is certain to make me sick!)
An offer which I couldn't well refuse,
Though brandy's something which I never use.
I could not speak to him, and why should he seek
An interview? But he at length grew civil,
And sent his brandy-flask when I was sea-sick,
(The lightest gale is certain to make me sick!)
An offer which I couldn't well refuse,
Though brandy's something which I never use.
226
“We had two days of most distressing weather!
I could have envied martyrs on the rack.
I do not think I cared a pin's weight whether
I lived or died!—I'm so glad to get back!
Robert was kind, and helped us to a hack;
Of course I had to ask the man to call,
Or show him no civility at all.”
I could have envied martyrs on the rack.
I do not think I cared a pin's weight whether
I lived or died!—I'm so glad to get back!
Robert was kind, and helped us to a hack;
Of course I had to ask the man to call,
Or show him no civility at all.”
Truth, every word; though it perhaps may strike
The reader as too gingerly expressed.
Women and Truth, I find, depend alike,
For their effect, upon the way they 're dressed.
I like for both a simple garment best;
But nothing can exceed a woman's tact
In fancy-dressing both herself and Fact.
The reader as too gingerly expressed.
Women and Truth, I find, depend alike,
For their effect, upon the way they 're dressed.
I like for both a simple garment best;
But nothing can exceed a woman's tact
In fancy-dressing both herself and Fact.
Do not too hastily infer that woman
Is guilty of downright equivocation.
It is not only feminine, but human,
To modify by phrase and intonation
Truth's simple theme, till, through the variation
Sometimes embroidered on the homely air,
You hardly guess what good old tune is there.
Is guilty of downright equivocation.
It is not only feminine, but human,
To modify by phrase and intonation
Truth's simple theme, till, through the variation
Sometimes embroidered on the homely air,
You hardly guess what good old tune is there.
227
II.
The bride, whose coming was a nine-days' wonder,
Received in Brooklyn, where her court was held,
So many callers that they fairly stunned her;—
Not old friends only; but her train was swelled
By more whom love of novelty impelled,
And some who thought it worth their while to seek
The charming Mrs. Vernon for their clique.
Received in Brooklyn, where her court was held,
So many callers that they fairly stunned her;—
Not old friends only; but her train was swelled
By more whom love of novelty impelled,
And some who thought it worth their while to seek
The charming Mrs. Vernon for their clique.
With all the rest, but from a different motive,
Went Lorne,—and but a sad appearance made he.
So have I seen a worshipper with votive
Offerings approach some altar of Our Lady,
To find a crowd of tourists there already,
Airing their guide-books, venturing praise or stricture
Upon this sacred relic or that picture.
Went Lorne,—and but a sad appearance made he.
So have I seen a worshipper with votive
Offerings approach some altar of Our Lady,
To find a crowd of tourists there already,
Airing their guide-books, venturing praise or stricture
Upon this sacred relic or that picture.
The world soon wearies of a stale sensation;
And as the swift weeks came and went without
Bringing Guy Vernon back from his plantation,
People began to shake their heads, and doubt;
Till something of the secret had leaked out,
One scarce knows how: a little, I'm afraid,
Came through the indiscretion of the maid.
And as the swift weeks came and went without
Bringing Guy Vernon back from his plantation,
People began to shake their heads, and doubt;
Till something of the secret had leaked out,
One scarce knows how: a little, I'm afraid,
Came through the indiscretion of the maid.
228
With Robert Lorne's, Florinda's name was coupled
In terms uncomplimentary to both.
And so discreet Society grew troubled:
'Twas shocked, distressed: it pitied her; 'twas loath
To think what had been told it under oath!
In short, it never, never could esteem her,
After her shameful conduct on the steamer!
In terms uncomplimentary to both.
And so discreet Society grew troubled:
'Twas shocked, distressed: it pitied her; 'twas loath
To think what had been told it under oath!
In short, it never, never could esteem her,
After her shameful conduct on the steamer!
“He followed her upon her wedding journey,
And there in Cuba showed her such devotion!
Vernon was out one day: on his return, he—
Well, all I know is, there was an explosion!
Just what the man discovered, I 've no notion;
I only say, he left her in Havana,
And hurried off next day to Louisiana,
And there in Cuba showed her such devotion!
Vernon was out one day: on his return, he—
Well, all I know is, there was an explosion!
Just what the man discovered, I 've no notion;
I only say, he left her in Havana,
And hurried off next day to Louisiana,
“Cursing, no doubt, the hour when he was wedded!”
Which was not white and stainless truth, we know,
But held some darker substances imbedded:
Just one of Rumor's rolling balls of snow,
That pick up sticks and rubbish as they go:
The farther they are rolled, the more they gather;
And suburbs are the place for rubbish, rather.
Which was not white and stainless truth, we know,
But held some darker substances imbedded:
Just one of Rumor's rolling balls of snow,
That pick up sticks and rubbish as they go:
The farther they are rolled, the more they gather;
And suburbs are the place for rubbish, rather.
229
This to Florinda was a fearful trial,
Added to that which secretly she bore;
For now no explanation, no denial,
Not truth itself, which might have served before,
Could kill reports, but only raise up more.
In fine, her double-burden so unfitted her
For life itself that you would quite have pitied her.
Added to that which secretly she bore;
For now no explanation, no denial,
Not truth itself, which might have served before,
Could kill reports, but only raise up more.
In fine, her double-burden so unfitted her
For life itself that you would quite have pitied her.
A common scandal is a borrowed tool
Passing from hand to hand, yet never losing
Its edge by any ordinary rule,
Battered and blunted by severe abusing;
But, like a cat's claw, it grows sharp with using;
Whose softer part wears faster from the friction,
Leaving the other keen, for your affliction.
Passing from hand to hand, yet never losing
Its edge by any ordinary rule,
Battered and blunted by severe abusing;
But, like a cat's claw, it grows sharp with using;
Whose softer part wears faster from the friction,
Leaving the other keen, for your affliction.
III.
No word from Vernon; though she wrote and pleaded
Until that rascal, Saturn, must have laughed!
Her love and grief remained alike unheeded:
But as each month came round, a princely draft
Shot at her heart its cruel golden shaft;
And in the very thickest of the slander
There came a note from “Samuel Alexander.”
Until that rascal, Saturn, must have laughed!
Her love and grief remained alike unheeded:
But as each month came round, a princely draft
Shot at her heart its cruel golden shaft;
And in the very thickest of the slander
There came a note from “Samuel Alexander.”
230
For so the Varlet signed himself; and truly,
A singular performance was this letter!
He begged to say that Mr. V. was duly
Regretful that he must remain her debtor
For correspondence until he was better:
He had been slightly ill of late; beside,
He was just then extremely occupied.
A singular performance was this letter!
He begged to say that Mr. V. was duly
Regretful that he must remain her debtor
For correspondence until he was better:
He had been slightly ill of late; beside,
He was just then extremely occupied.
“The business which has brought us here” (I quote
From Saturn's postscript) “is not yet quite ended.”
Again, in Postscript Number Two, he wrote:
“Be easy, Madam; he is well attended,
And, every thing considered, doing splendid!
Please, Madam, do not write again, but wait.”
The missive, I should mention, bore no date.
From Saturn's postscript) “is not yet quite ended.”
Again, in Postscript Number Two, he wrote:
“Be easy, Madam; he is well attended,
And, every thing considered, doing splendid!
Please, Madam, do not write again, but wait.”
The missive, I should mention, bore no date.
'Twas a distressing riddle: heart and brain
Were racked and puzzled by it many a day.
“He must be ill!”—but that did not explain
His parting from her in that cruel way,
His long, mysterious silence, and delay
On that strange business,—too much occupied
To write one line to his forsaken bride!
Were racked and puzzled by it many a day.
“He must be ill!”—but that did not explain
His parting from her in that cruel way,
His long, mysterious silence, and delay
On that strange business,—too much occupied
To write one line to his forsaken bride!
231
From her good Aunt she got but little solace,—
A woman of confirmed opinions, blest
With little patience for a young girl's follies;
Who doubted not her niece had lost the best,
Most generous, most devoted, handsomest
Of husbands, through her own infatuation;—
But deemed the monthly draft a consolation.
A woman of confirmed opinions, blest
With little patience for a young girl's follies;
Who doubted not her niece had lost the best,
Most generous, most devoted, handsomest
Of husbands, through her own infatuation;—
But deemed the monthly draft a consolation.
Friends do not like to own that ever any
Advice of theirs in any way was bad.
So in Florinda's circle there were many
Who, though the sequel to the match was sad,
Blamed her for all the ill success it had;
While others would not willingly admit
That ever they approved or counselled it.
Advice of theirs in any way was bad.
So in Florinda's circle there were many
Who, though the sequel to the match was sad,
Blamed her for all the ill success it had;
While others would not willingly admit
That ever they approved or counselled it.
The World, it may be said, dropped her acquaintance;
But there were those who could not keep away,—
Who came to witness suffering and repentance,
To talk the matter over every day,
To know just how she felt, what she would say:
So she had more than one friend who stuck by her,
Though something in the fashion of a brier.
But there were those who could not keep away,—
Who came to witness suffering and repentance,
To talk the matter over every day,
To know just how she felt, what she would say:
So she had more than one friend who stuck by her,
Though something in the fashion of a brier.
232
IV.
For Lorne the starry skies of Love had brightened
When her full-mooned renown began to wane;
But soon the cloud of ill report had frightened
Both back to their discreet reserve again.
Hardly could he that stormy heart restrain,
Which sometimes drove him now—as if a very
Demon possessed him—down to Brooklyn ferry!
When her full-mooned renown began to wane;
But soon the cloud of ill report had frightened
Both back to their discreet reserve again.
Hardly could he that stormy heart restrain,
Which sometimes drove him now—as if a very
Demon possessed him—down to Brooklyn ferry!
It was his own imprudence that involved her
In this vile coil,—he thought with penitence.
How tenderly his own great love absolved her
Of every fault but that sweet confidence
Which proved to him her very innocence!
He burned to be her champion,—but forbore,
Knowing that he could only harm her more.
In this vile coil,—he thought with penitence.
How tenderly his own great love absolved her
Of every fault but that sweet confidence
Which proved to him her very innocence!
He burned to be her champion,—but forbore,
Knowing that he could only harm her more.
He plunged in work: his Southern notes he winnowed;
And, much as he a mean deception spurned,
In corresponding with the press, continued
To date from countries whence he had returned,
If he indeed had seen them; and so learned
The art—imaginative and dramatic—
Of writing foreign letters from an attic.
And, much as he a mean deception spurned,
In corresponding with the press, continued
To date from countries whence he had returned,
If he indeed had seen them; and so learned
The art—imaginative and dramatic—
Of writing foreign letters from an attic.
233
His friends averred that he could never gain
A handsome independence by his pen,
And marvelled why such genius should remain
A beggar in a barren garret, when
He might, like many far less able men,
Become a lawyer, or a politician,
And strike for office, fortune, and position.
A handsome independence by his pen,
And marvelled why such genius should remain
A beggar in a barren garret, when
He might, like many far less able men,
Become a lawyer, or a politician,
And strike for office, fortune, and position.
V.
His lodging overlooked, in the Metropolis,
A narrow business street, not over nice,
But unromantically over-populous;
Where, much against the aforesaid friends' advice,
He kept on writing at a moderate price,
Pieces pathetic, picturesque, or funny,
Which gained for him much credit, and some money.
A narrow business street, not over nice,
But unromantically over-populous;
Where, much against the aforesaid friends' advice,
He kept on writing at a moderate price,
Pieces pathetic, picturesque, or funny,
Which gained for him much credit, and some money.
One April afternoon, as he sat writing,
Buried in books and papers to the chin,
Where the high luthern window let the light in,
A hand—scarce heard above the incessant din
Of the loud street—tapped at his door. “Come in!”
He shouted out, in tones not over-civil,
Expecting no one but the printer's devil.
Buried in books and papers to the chin,
Where the high luthern window let the light in,
A hand—scarce heard above the incessant din
Of the loud street—tapped at his door. “Come in!”
He shouted out, in tones not over-civil,
Expecting no one but the printer's devil.
234
Then, too intently occupied to stop, he—
Still studying an unfinished period—
Over his shoulder reached a roll of copy,
Giving a little sidelong careless nod;
But thought the fellow's movements rather odd,—
Turned slowly,—gazed,—and just escaped capsizing
His loaded table in his hasty rising.
Still studying an unfinished period—
Over his shoulder reached a roll of copy,
Giving a little sidelong careless nod;
But thought the fellow's movements rather odd,—
Turned slowly,—gazed,—and just escaped capsizing
His loaded table in his hasty rising.
He stands and stammers, so confused and vexed is he
At his own awkward blunder;—but, O heaven!
What sudden joy, what thrilling, boundless ecstasy,
When from a woman's veil one glance is given,
And, like a panting fawn to covert driven,
Pale, with a look of exquisite concern on
Her fair, sweet face, behold—Florinda Vernon!
At his own awkward blunder;—but, O heaven!
What sudden joy, what thrilling, boundless ecstasy,
When from a woman's veil one glance is given,
And, like a panting fawn to covert driven,
Pale, with a look of exquisite concern on
Her fair, sweet face, behold—Florinda Vernon!
VI.
He sprang to meet her, eager hands outreaching
To clasp, to bless her; but as he came near,
She started from him with a strange, beseeching,
Wild look, in which there was a mingled fear.
“O Rob,” she cried, “I'm crazy to be here!
What would they now say if they only knew it!
I can't—myself—conceive what made me do it!
To clasp, to bless her; but as he came near,
She started from him with a strange, beseeching,
Wild look, in which there was a mingled fear.
“O Rob,” she cried, “I'm crazy to be here!
What would they now say if they only knew it!
I can't—myself—conceive what made me do it!
235
“I know you'll think me dreadfully immodest!—
O Rob! it isn't a mere girlish freak!”
But here she paused, being so tightly bodiced,
And out of breath from climbing stairs, and weak
From agitation, that she could not speak;
When seeing her grow faint and gasp for air,
He thought at last to offer her a chair.
O Rob! it isn't a mere girlish freak!”
But here she paused, being so tightly bodiced,
And out of breath from climbing stairs, and weak
From agitation, that she could not speak;
When seeing her grow faint and gasp for air,
He thought at last to offer her a chair.
Her maid, in his place, would have guessed the matter,
Have found her corset, and at once unlaced it.
But Rob could only stand there staring at her,
And bring some sherry, begging her to taste it;
Which she but touched, then on the table placed it;
And, having now recovered from her faintness,
Looked up at him and smiled with charming quaintness.
Have found her corset, and at once unlaced it.
But Rob could only stand there staring at her,
And bring some sherry, begging her to taste it;
Which she but touched, then on the table placed it;
And, having now recovered from her faintness,
Looked up at him and smiled with charming quaintness.
“This is a scene! I'm horribly ashamed!—
You must not blame me!”—quickly growing serious.
“I'm stifled!—O dear!—Robert,” she exclaimed,
“I 've come on business—something quite imperious;”
And, lest the lady's interlude should weary us,
We'll simply add that, while he sprang to get her
Some sort of fan, she pulled out Saturn's letter.
You must not blame me!”—quickly growing serious.
“I'm stifled!—O dear!—Robert,” she exclaimed,
“I 've come on business—something quite imperious;”
And, lest the lady's interlude should weary us,
We'll simply add that, while he sprang to get her
Some sort of fan, she pulled out Saturn's letter.
236
She talked to him about it while he read it,
Fanning herself incessantly, and weeping;
Told him of all she suffered, all she dreaded:
The mystery haunted her awake or sleeping;
And, O, it never could be solved! Then, leaping
To a most sudden, woman-like conclusion,
She begged, entreated him for a solution.
Fanning herself incessantly, and weeping;
Told him of all she suffered, all she dreaded:
The mystery haunted her awake or sleeping;
And, O, it never could be solved! Then, leaping
To a most sudden, woman-like conclusion,
She begged, entreated him for a solution.
VII.
“Well, looking at it in a business way,”
Said Lorne,—“as if I now first heard the tale,
And did not know the parties,—I should say
Guy Vernon was a felon, out on bail;
I think he 's now convicted, and in jail.
Summoned to trial under his indictment—
That 's what his strange despair and sudden flight meant,
Said Lorne,—“as if I now first heard the tale,
And did not know the parties,—I should say
Guy Vernon was a felon, out on bail;
I think he 's now convicted, and in jail.
Summoned to trial under his indictment—
That 's what his strange despair and sudden flight meant,
“When he had hoped to quash it, all the time.”
“O Rob, you do not think so!”—“Well, why not?
It may have been some gentlemanly crime—
A duel, and his adversary shot—
The southern blood, you know, is quick and hot.”
“No, no!” she cried, “that 's not like him! The duellist
Is of all men, I've heard him say, the cruelest!
“O Rob, you do not think so!”—“Well, why not?
It may have been some gentlemanly crime—
A duel, and his adversary shot—
The southern blood, you know, is quick and hot.”
“No, no!” she cried, “that 's not like him! The duellist
Is of all men, I've heard him say, the cruelest!
237
“He hates the code!—although at first I feared
That he was challenged, and was going to fight.
But, grant it all, the mystery is not cleared:
Why treat me so? and why could he not write
One letter, even in jail?” Says Rob, “You 're right.”
And, on examination, thus they found,
That theory was not altogether sound.
That he was challenged, and was going to fight.
But, grant it all, the mystery is not cleared:
Why treat me so? and why could he not write
One letter, even in jail?” Says Rob, “You 're right.”
And, on examination, thus they found,
That theory was not altogether sound.
“There is,” said Lorne, “one other explanation—
But that, I know, you will not like to hear.
And yet,” he said, with painful hesitation,
“No other seems to make the matter clear.
Suppose he had been summoned to appear
And meet a different trial in his life?—
I mean, your husband has another wife.”
But that, I know, you will not like to hear.
And yet,” he said, with painful hesitation,
“No other seems to make the matter clear.
Suppose he had been summoned to appear
And meet a different trial in his life?—
I mean, your husband has another wife.”
This she opposed with vehement persistency.
“O Rob, it is a monstrous thought!—O no!
And yet,” she said, with feminine consistency,
“He must have had another wife, I know,
For nothing else could separate us so!
I did not think my husband was so bad!
Say something, Robert, or I shall go mad!”
“O Rob, it is a monstrous thought!—O no!
And yet,” she said, with feminine consistency,
“He must have had another wife, I know,
For nothing else could separate us so!
I did not think my husband was so bad!
Say something, Robert, or I shall go mad!”
238
“My dear!” cries Lorne, “'twas only a suggestion!”
And yet the theory seemed not wholly wrong:
It answered, too, the old provoking question,
What kept our beau a bachelor so long?
“The wretch,” she sobbed, “was married all along!
He may have had a dozen wives beside,
And may be finding now another bride!
And yet the theory seemed not wholly wrong:
It answered, too, the old provoking question,
What kept our beau a bachelor so long?
“The wretch,” she sobbed, “was married all along!
He may have had a dozen wives beside,
And may be finding now another bride!
“And I am not his wife at all!”—Lorne trembled
At all these wildly uttered words implied:
Her hand was free, then! But his soul dissembled
Its secret joy; while he sincerely tried
To think but of her grief. “Why now,” he cried,
“You 're driving my conjecture quite too far:
'Tis only in romance that such things are.
At all these wildly uttered words implied:
Her hand was free, then! But his soul dissembled
Its secret joy; while he sincerely tried
To think but of her grief. “Why now,” he cried,
“You 're driving my conjecture quite too far:
'Tis only in romance that such things are.
“Vernon is not a murderer, nor a forger,
Nor jealous fool, as far as we can know;
Nor Bluebeard, looking for more wives to torture;
Nor bankrupt—as the drafts they send you show;
Nor varlet's tool and victim: far below
Our present knowledge and my comprehension
The mystery lurks, and baffles my invention!”
Nor jealous fool, as far as we can know;
Nor Bluebeard, looking for more wives to torture;
Nor bankrupt—as the drafts they send you show;
Nor varlet's tool and victim: far below
Our present knowledge and my comprehension
The mystery lurks, and baffles my invention!”
239
“You do not think,” she said, “he is a gambler,—
That Saturn aids him in that horrid vice?
Or is he just a wanton, reckless rambler?
Never did I discover card or dice!
O Rob,” she pleaded, “give me some advice!
Pity my wretched, my forlorn condition!”
And so, at last, he made this proposition:
That Saturn aids him in that horrid vice?
Or is he just a wanton, reckless rambler?
Never did I discover card or dice!
O Rob,” she pleaded, “give me some advice!
Pity my wretched, my forlorn condition!”
And so, at last, he made this proposition:
“I have a correspondent,—George Lazell,—
A classmate and old crony,—studying law
There in New Orleans: I have known him well:
One of the quickest wits you ever saw
To prove a question or to pick a flaw.
I 've not the slightest doubt he can unravel
This riddle, with a little time and travel.
A classmate and old crony,—studying law
There in New Orleans: I have known him well:
One of the quickest wits you ever saw
To prove a question or to pick a flaw.
I 've not the slightest doubt he can unravel
This riddle, with a little time and travel.
“With your consent, I'll put him in possession”—
Florinda shuddered—“of the whole affair,
And leave its management to his discretion,
Which can be trusted: give him but a hair,
And he will track the mystery to its lair,—
Work up the case, and leave no point neglected,
To keep your action in it unsuspected.”
Florinda shuddered—“of the whole affair,
And leave its management to his discretion,
Which can be trusted: give him but a hair,
And he will track the mystery to its lair,—
Work up the case, and leave no point neglected,
To keep your action in it unsuspected.”
240
She first approved the plan, then straight repented:
It would not do—she dared not! 'twas not right!—
Then, after many doubts and sighs, consented,
And hurried home,—Rob promising to write
The letter to his friend that very night;—
But she next morning sent a note to say
It must not go—when it was on its way.
It would not do—she dared not! 'twas not right!—
Then, after many doubts and sighs, consented,
And hurried home,—Rob promising to write
The letter to his friend that very night;—
But she next morning sent a note to say
It must not go—when it was on its way.
VIII.
Ah, then, for her what days of expectation,
Of curiosity akin to fear;
Of baffled hope, and causeless trepidation
At sound or sight!—a voice she chanced to hear,
Perhaps the liveried footman drawing near,
Who came like Fate, and idly went his way,
Leaving a desolate and empty day.
Of curiosity akin to fear;
Of baffled hope, and causeless trepidation
At sound or sight!—a voice she chanced to hear,
Perhaps the liveried footman drawing near,
Who came like Fate, and idly went his way,
Leaving a desolate and empty day.
The weeks went by and brought no revelation,
And letters came she did not care to read.
But now she had one secret consolation,—
And, O, what harm, if in her heart's great need
She sometimes went to him? What harm indeed,
But that imprudence is the door to sin,
And one small fault may let large vices in.
And letters came she did not care to read.
But now she had one secret consolation,—
And, O, what harm, if in her heart's great need
She sometimes went to him? What harm indeed,
But that imprudence is the door to sin,
And one small fault may let large vices in.
241
To tempted souls there is delight in danger,
And then the provocation seems complete,
When Marriage, like a mastiff in the manger,
But guards the morsel which it may not eat,
And Love and Daring find that morsel sweet!
Don't blame your wife too much, sir; but consider,
Perhaps your coldness or neglect undid her.
And then the provocation seems complete,
When Marriage, like a mastiff in the manger,
But guards the morsel which it may not eat,
And Love and Daring find that morsel sweet!
Don't blame your wife too much, sir; but consider,
Perhaps your coldness or neglect undid her.
A little pressure of the hand, returning
Another's pressure; eyebeams free as air;
The lonely heart's unutterable yearning,—
All this even Innocence itself may share:
And then a kiss is but a kiss—beware!
It is a little mouse that gnaws the net
Around a mighty lion: guard him yet!
Another's pressure; eyebeams free as air;
The lonely heart's unutterable yearning,—
All this even Innocence itself may share:
And then a kiss is but a kiss—beware!
It is a little mouse that gnaws the net
Around a mighty lion: guard him yet!
The world is full of pining hearts mismated,
And still they will mismate, and still will pine.
Is thy sweet hunger never to be sated,
O Love? But Duty also is divine;
And Passion finds a poison in the wine,
In secret, at a stolen banquet poured,
When holy Conscience blesses not the board.
And still they will mismate, and still will pine.
Is thy sweet hunger never to be sated,
O Love? But Duty also is divine;
And Passion finds a poison in the wine,
In secret, at a stolen banquet poured,
When holy Conscience blesses not the board.
242
On every side conflicting voices call;
And we must reconcile as best we can
The rights of each and the great good of all,
The claims of Nature and the laws of man,—
The problem since Society began!
O troubled soul! be tender, wise, and true,
And 'tis beginning to be solved—for you.
And we must reconcile as best we can
The rights of each and the great good of all,
The claims of Nature and the laws of man,—
The problem since Society began!
O troubled soul! be tender, wise, and true,
And 'tis beginning to be solved—for you.
243
4. PART IV.
THE LOST BRIDEGROOM.
I.
Meanwhile Lazell accepted the commission;
Though it was long before he could report.
He moved with all the caution and precision
Of any practised diplomat at court,
Or strategist advancing on a fort;
And 'twas no fault of his if something less
Was compassed than unqualified success.
Though it was long before he could report.
He moved with all the caution and precision
Of any practised diplomat at court,
Or strategist advancing on a fort;
And 'twas no fault of his if something less
Was compassed than unqualified success.
All Lorne could tell him of the strange event,
Or he himself could learn at Guy's plantation,
Or at the bank from which the drafts were sent,
Or elsewhere, bearing on the situation,
Was added carefully to his equation,
When, by no common difficulties daunted, he
Essayed to cipher out the unknown quantity.
Or he himself could learn at Guy's plantation,
Or at the bank from which the drafts were sent,
Or elsewhere, bearing on the situation,
Was added carefully to his equation,
When, by no common difficulties daunted, he
Essayed to cipher out the unknown quantity.
244
II.
He wrote to Lorne of every thing, confessing—
“It makes me, Rob, exceedingly dejected,
To find that here 's a riddle there 's no guessing
From all the facts so carefully collected.
The man is known, and everywhere respected;
If a great villain, he must be a rare actor,
Still to preserve so excellent a character.
“It makes me, Rob, exceedingly dejected,
To find that here 's a riddle there 's no guessing
From all the facts so carefully collected.
The man is known, and everywhere respected;
If a great villain, he must be a rare actor,
Still to preserve so excellent a character.
“Here in the city, and at his estate,
His friends, when questioned, commonly replied,
‘We haven't seen nor heard from him, of late;
But he was here last winter with his bride.’
If he 's here now, why, then, we must decide,
Be what he may, whatever else he lacks,
He has the art of covering up his tracks.
His friends, when questioned, commonly replied,
‘We haven't seen nor heard from him, of late;
But he was here last winter with his bride.’
If he 's here now, why, then, we must decide,
Be what he may, whatever else he lacks,
He has the art of covering up his tracks.
“I don't believe he 's in these parts at all!
I'm wrong, no doubt you think: perhaps I am:
For his man Alexander,—whom they call
‘Big Sandy’ here, or sometimes ‘Dandy Sam,’—
That gorgeous graft upon the stock of Ham,—
Has been at V.'s plantation, and in town;
Though I could not contrive to hunt him down.
I'm wrong, no doubt you think: perhaps I am:
For his man Alexander,—whom they call
‘Big Sandy’ here, or sometimes ‘Dandy Sam,’—
That gorgeous graft upon the stock of Ham,—
Has been at V.'s plantation, and in town;
Though I could not contrive to hunt him down.
245
“I followed that embodied Will-o'-wisp
From place to place,—in hopes to overhaul
A waistcoat and the waxed ends of a crisp,
Pointed mustache: the trail was now so small,
I vowed that he, too, was not here at all;
Then I could swear—so great the rumor grew of him,
And he was here and there so—there were two of him!
From place to place,—in hopes to overhaul
A waistcoat and the waxed ends of a crisp,
Pointed mustache: the trail was now so small,
I vowed that he, too, was not here at all;
Then I could swear—so great the rumor grew of him,
And he was here and there so—there were two of him!
“'Twas now a flying visit to the bank
On Vernon's business,—if indeed it be
Not more his own than Vernon's: to be frank,
I 've not the slightest doubt but it is he
Who sends the monthly draft to Mrs. V.
In Vernon's name there is a large deposit,
But 'tis this Dandy Sam who always draws it.
On Vernon's business,—if indeed it be
Not more his own than Vernon's: to be frank,
I 've not the slightest doubt but it is he
Who sends the monthly draft to Mrs. V.
In Vernon's name there is a large deposit,
But 'tis this Dandy Sam who always draws it.
“When I rushed in to catch him there, I learned
That he was up the river, on the estate;
And though I had but recently returned
From reconnoitring thereabouts, with great
Celerity and caution back there straight
I sped, to pounce upon him like a cougar—
Pretending always to be buying sugar.
That he was up the river, on the estate;
And though I had but recently returned
From reconnoitring thereabouts, with great
Celerity and caution back there straight
I sped, to pounce upon him like a cougar—
Pretending always to be buying sugar.
246
“It seemed as if some magic must have aided
To screen a fellow of so great renown,
For he had vanished, somehow separated,
And gone, part up the river, and part down,
Half to the northward, and half back to town:
So said two sets of persons who had seen him,
And it was just my luck to pounce between him.
To screen a fellow of so great renown,
For he had vanished, somehow separated,
And gone, part up the river, and part down,
Half to the northward, and half back to town:
So said two sets of persons who had seen him,
And it was just my luck to pounce between him.
“V.'s is the best plantation in the parish,
Perhaps the very finest in the State;
The mansion, truly elegant, not garish;
Yet Vernon never stays there long of late;
And Sam—an object of especial hate
To every one, from Cuff to overseer—
Comes only now and then to domineer.
Perhaps the very finest in the State;
The mansion, truly elegant, not garish;
Yet Vernon never stays there long of late;
And Sam—an object of especial hate
To every one, from Cuff to overseer—
Comes only now and then to domineer.
“The people say that Vernon's with his wife
Somewhere up North,—the general opinion.
I 've learned from them a little of his life:
He is by birth and breeding a Virginian,
Who emigrated from the Old Dominion
Twelve years ago—if that be emigration,
To take possession of an old plantation.
Somewhere up North,—the general opinion.
I 've learned from them a little of his life:
He is by birth and breeding a Virginian,
Who emigrated from the Old Dominion
Twelve years ago—if that be emigration,
To take possession of an old plantation.
247
“Of the Virginia servants two alone,
Sam and an aged negress, now remain;
The latter very deaf: her wits have flown
Back to the deepening twilight of her brain,
So that, I find, there is not much to gain
By sounding that dim cave, to bring the bats
Zizzagging aimlessly around our hats.
Sam and an aged negress, now remain;
The latter very deaf: her wits have flown
Back to the deepening twilight of her brain,
So that, I find, there is not much to gain
By sounding that dim cave, to bring the bats
Zizzagging aimlessly around our hats.
“Yet some things this old creature has let fall
To others, which, whatever they may mean,
Are worth perhaps the trouble to recall:
How Vernon's mother perished of some keen
Heart-piercing anguish; and how she has seen
The father, ghastly pale, perspiring clammily
Over some fearful secret in the family.
To others, which, whatever they may mean,
Are worth perhaps the trouble to recall:
How Vernon's mother perished of some keen
Heart-piercing anguish; and how she has seen
The father, ghastly pale, perspiring clammily
Over some fearful secret in the family.
“Whether that secret be the same as this
Which we would fathom, can but be suspected:
For secret most assuredly there is,
And with it Sam is certainly connected;
Whose will has so mysteriously subjected
His master's, that you hear it said, he runs
Vernon and his plantation both at once.
Which we would fathom, can but be suspected:
For secret most assuredly there is,
And with it Sam is certainly connected;
Whose will has so mysteriously subjected
His master's, that you hear it said, he runs
Vernon and his plantation both at once.
248
“This is by no means Mr. Vernon's first
Mysterious disappearance, as I find;
Though, on his wife's account, it seems the worst
And strangest case of absence of the kind.
Suddenly he—or Sam—makes up his mind,
And, presto! like the slipperiest of debtors,
He 's off, beyond the reach of friends or letters.
Mysterious disappearance, as I find;
Though, on his wife's account, it seems the worst
And strangest case of absence of the kind.
Suddenly he—or Sam—makes up his mind,
And, presto! like the slipperiest of debtors,
He 's off, beyond the reach of friends or letters.
“So said, at least, my friend the overseer;
Declaring in half-earnest, grisly fun,
'Twas his conviction, that for many a year
Vernon at stated intervals has done
Some private business with the Evil One,
Which claims, in spite of friendship or the ladies,
His personal attention down in Hades!”
Declaring in half-earnest, grisly fun,
'Twas his conviction, that for many a year
Vernon at stated intervals has done
Some private business with the Evil One,
Which claims, in spite of friendship or the ladies,
His personal attention down in Hades!”
Thus wrote to Robert Lorne the young attorney,
To whom the curious case had been confided;
Adding, “Without another, longer journey,
I fear the question cannot be decided.
You may no doubt accomplish more than I did,
And gain some knowledge, or obtain some trace,
Of Vernon, on the Old Virginia place.”
To whom the curious case had been confided;
Adding, “Without another, longer journey,
I fear the question cannot be decided.
You may no doubt accomplish more than I did,
And gain some knowledge, or obtain some trace,
Of Vernon, on the Old Virginia place.”
249
III.
This letter, which had been so long awaited,
Caused in the wife an easy transformation:
The fever-pulse of hope and fear abated;
And with the lapse of high-wrought expectation,
There came a sudden, dangerous relaxation
Of those firm principles which hitherto
Had kept her, through all perils, pure and true.
Caused in the wife an easy transformation:
The fever-pulse of hope and fear abated;
And with the lapse of high-wrought expectation,
There came a sudden, dangerous relaxation
Of those firm principles which hitherto
Had kept her, through all perils, pure and true.
Now all her sinking, unsupported heart
Reached out for love,—trembling and insecure.
And so one day she dressed herself to start
Upon a fashionable shopping-tour,
Which—one might safely prophesy—was sure
To have a rather un-aristocratic,
Impulsive ending, in a young man's attic.
Reached out for love,—trembling and insecure.
And so one day she dressed herself to start
Upon a fashionable shopping-tour,
Which—one might safely prophesy—was sure
To have a rather un-aristocratic,
Impulsive ending, in a young man's attic.
A coach was called; and soon a coach came dinning
Its music in her ears; and, pondering more
The journey's joyous end than its beginning,
She hurried forth; but stopped, aghast, before
Some legs in the just-opened carriage-door,
Which to her startled gaze so much resembled
A missing pair, that she stood still and trembled.
Its music in her ears; and, pondering more
The journey's joyous end than its beginning,
She hurried forth; but stopped, aghast, before
Some legs in the just-opened carriage-door,
Which to her startled gaze so much resembled
A missing pair, that she stood still and trembled.
250
“Florinda!” said a voice; and some one, rising,
Peered out—then even the sky turned black above her!
As well it might: what could be more surprising
To the young wife, just going to meet her lover,
Than thus inopportunely to discover
A terrible reminder of her marriage,
In her own husband stepping from a carriage!
Peered out—then even the sky turned black above her!
As well it might: what could be more surprising
To the young wife, just going to meet her lover,
Than thus inopportunely to discover
A terrible reminder of her marriage,
In her own husband stepping from a carriage!
IV.
Fainting is commonplace, even in romances;
So let us say that, after some disorder,
When she was lying on a lounge, and Nancy's
Care—and cologne—had partially restored her,
She heard a voice which tenderly implored her
To calm herself; and, opening her eyes,
Found that it was indeed her dear, lost Guy's!
So let us say that, after some disorder,
When she was lying on a lounge, and Nancy's
Care—and cologne—had partially restored her,
She heard a voice which tenderly implored her
To calm herself; and, opening her eyes,
Found that it was indeed her dear, lost Guy's!
She sat right up and stared him in the face,
Half-doubtful if she really were beholding
Her husband or a spectre in his place,
And half inclined to give him a good scolding;
Then pulled away the hand which he was holding,
And dropped some passionate tears; but, for a miracle,
Was neither sentimental nor hysterical.
Half-doubtful if she really were beholding
Her husband or a spectre in his place,
And half inclined to give him a good scolding;
Then pulled away the hand which he was holding,
And dropped some passionate tears; but, for a miracle,
Was neither sentimental nor hysterical.
251
“Our sudden meeting has quite overcome you!
You blame me! but you do not know how strong
Was the necessity which kept me from you.
Although my absence has been strange and long,
I 've done no needless or intended wrong,
Believe me, love!”—a bit of an oration,
Too evidently studied for the occasion.
You blame me! but you do not know how strong
Was the necessity which kept me from you.
Although my absence has been strange and long,
I 've done no needless or intended wrong,
Believe me, love!”—a bit of an oration,
Too evidently studied for the occasion.
Even honest men, with something to conceal,
Not daring quite to trust the impetuous heart
To speak directly what they deeply feel,
Are sometimes tempted to prepare the part
Which they are called to act, and at the start
Put on the spirit—so to speak—a manacle,
Which makes their words seem formal and mechanical.
Not daring quite to trust the impetuous heart
To speak directly what they deeply feel,
Are sometimes tempted to prepare the part
Which they are called to act, and at the start
Put on the spirit—so to speak—a manacle,
Which makes their words seem formal and mechanical.
'Twas thus with Vernon, if I err not greatly:
His tongue was frigid, while his heart was torrid.
And when she saw him, elegant and stately,
With calm locks brushed across his bald white forehead,—
Still slightly corpulent and somewhat florid,—
In health, addressing her with all the awful ease
Of some well-combed and courtly Mephistopheles,—
His tongue was frigid, while his heart was torrid.
And when she saw him, elegant and stately,
With calm locks brushed across his bald white forehead,—
Still slightly corpulent and somewhat florid,—
In health, addressing her with all the awful ease
Of some well-combed and courtly Mephistopheles,—
252
As if the past were no such dreadful load,—
She looked at him amazed, and almost frightened,
(Forgetting quite the little episode
By which for her the burden had been lightened,)
And felt the horror of the mystery heightened,
But neither made complaint nor exclamation—
Only her eyes demanding explanation.
She looked at him amazed, and almost frightened,
(Forgetting quite the little episode
By which for her the burden had been lightened,)
And felt the horror of the mystery heightened,
But neither made complaint nor exclamation—
Only her eyes demanding explanation.
V.
“You were not looking for me in the coach?
You did not get my letter, then!” She darted
At him a look of terrible reproach:
“Never,” she cried, and now the deep sobs started,
“Never a line from you since last we parted!
Little I dreamed—when, yielding my consent,
I signed that dreadful paper —what it meant!”
You did not get my letter, then!” She darted
At him a look of terrible reproach:
“Never,” she cried, and now the deep sobs started,
“Never a line from you since last we parted!
Little I dreamed—when, yielding my consent,
I signed that dreadful paper —what it meant!”
Just then the maid, a letter in her hand
(She had been listening at the door until
That instant), entered: “This was on the stand;
It must have come just now when you were ill.”
Florinda took it, but without a thrill:
The flowers of hope, which we too long await,
May lose their bloom and come at last too late!
(She had been listening at the door until
That instant), entered: “This was on the stand;
It must have come just now when you were ill.”
Florinda took it, but without a thrill:
The flowers of hope, which we too long await,
May lose their bloom and come at last too late!
253
Post-marked New Orleans, July twenty-third;
The date conspicuously a fortnight older;
Written in Guy's fair hand (but not a word
To show where it was penned), the letter told her
How fondly he looked forward to behold her,
And prove his heart's devotion soon once more,—
Their trials passed, and happier days in store.
The date conspicuously a fortnight older;
Written in Guy's fair hand (but not a word
To show where it was penned), the letter told her
How fondly he looked forward to behold her,
And prove his heart's devotion soon once more,—
Their trials passed, and happier days in store.
This missive, which she read through flashing tears,
After its meagre contents were made out
She tossed to Guy; who colored to the ears,
Comparing date and postmark: he no doubt
(She thought) had mailed it in some roundabout,
Strange way, that his retreat might not be traced,
And afterwards outrun it in his haste.
After its meagre contents were made out
She tossed to Guy; who colored to the ears,
Comparing date and postmark: he no doubt
(She thought) had mailed it in some roundabout,
Strange way, that his retreat might not be traced,
And afterwards outrun it in his haste.
Then suddenly the sense of her great wrong
Possessed her; and—to make the story brief—
She sobbed so strongly, and she sobbed so long,
It seemed her soul could never find relief
To its wild, inextinguishable grief,
Which sighs but fanned, and tears in vain might drench,—
Like that Greek fire which water will not quench.
Possessed her; and—to make the story brief—
She sobbed so strongly, and she sobbed so long,
It seemed her soul could never find relief
To its wild, inextinguishable grief,
Which sighs but fanned, and tears in vain might drench,—
Like that Greek fire which water will not quench.
254
VI.
“Florinda!” said Guy Vernon, very grave,
When she could hear him,—studying now no more
What he should say, or how he should behave,—
“There 's something which I should have said before—
And would to Heaven that it might now restore
Our former happiness and dear repose,
Lost through no weakness of my heart, Heaven knows!
When she could hear him,—studying now no more
What he should say, or how he should behave,—
“There 's something which I should have said before—
And would to Heaven that it might now restore
Our former happiness and dear repose,
Lost through no weakness of my heart, Heaven knows!
“When first I saw—and loved you—I believed
A certain crisis in my life was passed.
Deceiving you, I was myself deceived,
Trusting the last misfortune was the last:
And still I held that fond delusion fast,
And would not think what shadow of strange fate
Lay on my life, until it was too late!
A certain crisis in my life was passed.
Deceiving you, I was myself deceived,
Trusting the last misfortune was the last:
And still I held that fond delusion fast,
And would not think what shadow of strange fate
Lay on my life, until it was too late!
“All unprepared, you justly were offended,
And filled, I know, with needless pain and dread.
Now once again I think my troubles ended,
And laid forever with the silent dead.
Still let me say what then I should have said;
And guard the future, if in spite of all
Precautions, evil should again befall.”
And filled, I know, with needless pain and dread.
Now once again I think my troubles ended,
And laid forever with the silent dead.
Still let me say what then I should have said;
And guard the future, if in spite of all
Precautions, evil should again befall.”
255
His trembling fingers for a moment flitted
Across his brow; and mind and frame were shaken;
Till, half-forgetting her own wrongs, she pitied
His greater woe, and felt her love rewaken.
“O, why was I so cruelly forsaken?
Left, a weak woman, in a land of strangers,
Exposed”—she thought of Robert—“to such dangers!
Across his brow; and mind and frame were shaken;
Till, half-forgetting her own wrongs, she pitied
His greater woe, and felt her love rewaken.
“O, why was I so cruelly forsaken?
Left, a weak woman, in a land of strangers,
Exposed”—she thought of Robert—“to such dangers!
“But that—all that—is now beyond recall.
You too have suffered—O for what, from whom?
All is forgiven, if you will tell me all!”
He turned away, and rose, and walked the room,
Upon his front a thunder-cloud of gloom,
And a portentous trouble in his eye;
Then paused, with downcast looks, and made reply.
You too have suffered—O for what, from whom?
All is forgiven, if you will tell me all!”
He turned away, and rose, and walked the room,
Upon his front a thunder-cloud of gloom,
And a portentous trouble in his eye;
Then paused, with downcast looks, and made reply.
“The cause,” he faltered, “never can be told;
We must not talk of that!” Florinda felt
Her heart grow suddenly all stony-cold,
Which love and pity had begun to melt.
“It was a dark necessity which dealt
So sternly with us both: should you outlive me,
You may know all,—and then you will forgive me.”
We must not talk of that!” Florinda felt
Her heart grow suddenly all stony-cold,
Which love and pity had begun to melt.
“It was a dark necessity which dealt
So sternly with us both: should you outlive me,
You may know all,—and then you will forgive me.”
256
He sank upon a chair, and once more covered
His changing visage, now convulsed and wan,
Where something of the awful anguish hovered,
Which art has fixed immovably upon
The deathless marble of Laocoön.
Alarmed she turned, appearing not to heed it;
And, after a brief struggle, he proceeded.
His changing visage, now convulsed and wan,
Where something of the awful anguish hovered,
Which art has fixed immovably upon
The deathless marble of Laocoön.
Alarmed she turned, appearing not to heed it;
And, after a brief struggle, he proceeded.
“Ask not the cause; but should there come a time,
When I once more may be compelled to leave you,
Account not my necessity a crime;
Nor deem that I would willingly deceive you;
Nor let my going, nor my silence, grieve you;
But bear my absence—which can never be
So sad to you as terrible to me!
When I once more may be compelled to leave you,
Account not my necessity a crime;
Nor deem that I would willingly deceive you;
Nor let my going, nor my silence, grieve you;
But bear my absence—which can never be
So sad to you as terrible to me!
“That such a time may never come again,
I do devoutly hope! But it is just
That you should know; then if it comes—O then”—
He lifted wide, imploring eyes—“you must—
You will support me with your love and trust!
Let me, unquestioned, go and come at will:
For only so can we be happy still!”
I do devoutly hope! But it is just
That you should know; then if it comes—O then”—
He lifted wide, imploring eyes—“you must—
You will support me with your love and trust!
Let me, unquestioned, go and come at will:
For only so can we be happy still!”
257
VII.
So earnest was he, and so well she knew
It would be vain and cruel to prolong
The pain of that unhappy interview,
That, though her curiosity was strong,
And deep the old resentful sense of wrong,—
Two things with which the unregenerate heart
Is apt to find it rather hard to part;—
It would be vain and cruel to prolong
The pain of that unhappy interview,
That, though her curiosity was strong,
And deep the old resentful sense of wrong,—
Two things with which the unregenerate heart
Is apt to find it rather hard to part;—
And though not much a heroine, she rose
Heroically to the situation,
And, prudently forbearing to oppose
Profitless question or expostulation
To these hard terms of reconciliation,
Bowed her proud will, as do the wise,—or just
As you and I do, when we find we must.
Heroically to the situation,
And, prudently forbearing to oppose
Profitless question or expostulation
To these hard terms of reconciliation,
Bowed her proud will, as do the wise,—or just
As you and I do, when we find we must.
She yielded, and immediately repented,
Foreseeing endless mystery, doubt, and slander.
Nor can I say that she was quite contented,
When Vernon told her, with surprising candor,
“For your sake, I have banished Alexander;
Though, to relieve my mind of many cares,
I still must let him manage my affairs.”
Foreseeing endless mystery, doubt, and slander.
Nor can I say that she was quite contented,
When Vernon told her, with surprising candor,
“For your sake, I have banished Alexander;
Though, to relieve my mind of many cares,
I still must let him manage my affairs.”
258
Which somehow did not please her altogether.
But now the maid approached once more, to say
The coachman at the door demanded whether
She wished the carriage ordered, still to stay.
“Why, no!” she answered; “send the man away.”
While sundry recollections rushing over her,
With quick, confusing blushes seemed to cover her.
But now the maid approached once more, to say
The coachman at the door demanded whether
She wished the carriage ordered, still to stay.
“Why, no!” she answered; “send the man away.”
While sundry recollections rushing over her,
With quick, confusing blushes seemed to cover her.
Ah, well her reäwakened soul might shrink
From the great peril that so late impended!
She shuddered at herself; and feared to think
How differently the morning might have ended,
If all had happened as she first intended;
What misery and remorse might now await her,
Had Vernon but arrived a minute later.
From the great peril that so late impended!
She shuddered at herself; and feared to think
How differently the morning might have ended,
If all had happened as she first intended;
What misery and remorse might now await her,
Had Vernon but arrived a minute later.
So slight a finger-post of circumstance
May turn one's fate! But to the soul, the savor
Of virtue saved, though saved by seeming chance,
And though it have a certain homely flavor,
Is sweet to taste, and sweeter grows forever!
While sin, so pleasant in the hour's swift haste,
Is biting-bitter to the after-taste.
May turn one's fate! But to the soul, the savor
Of virtue saved, though saved by seeming chance,
And though it have a certain homely flavor,
Is sweet to taste, and sweeter grows forever!
While sin, so pleasant in the hour's swift haste,
Is biting-bitter to the after-taste.
259
She felt the joy of rescued rectitude;
And from the rankling cinders of regret
Rose heavenward the pure flame of gratitude
For her deliverance; making her forget
What unseen Woe might walk beside her yet:
Her husband she regarded as her savior
From her own wayward heart and weak behavior.
And from the rankling cinders of regret
Rose heavenward the pure flame of gratitude
For her deliverance; making her forget
What unseen Woe might walk beside her yet:
Her husband she regarded as her savior
From her own wayward heart and weak behavior.
The long-lost bridegroom's cloudy brow soon cleared,
And even Florinda found new hope and peace
In their reunion. Then the Aunt appeared,
Flushed from the street, asthmatic and obese,
And welcomed home the husband of her niece,
With rapture: nothing could exceed the dear Aunt's
Surprise and pleasure at his reappearance.
And even Florinda found new hope and peace
In their reunion. Then the Aunt appeared,
Flushed from the street, asthmatic and obese,
And welcomed home the husband of her niece,
With rapture: nothing could exceed the dear Aunt's
Surprise and pleasure at his reappearance.
VIII.
Public opinion, having had satiety
Of adverse gossip, now began to waver.
Vernon had come! and once more Good Society
Inclined to take Florinda into favor.
Those who had wronged her graciously forgave her,
And, having spread the scandal, or received it,
Loudly declared that they had not believed it.
Of adverse gossip, now began to waver.
Vernon had come! and once more Good Society
Inclined to take Florinda into favor.
Those who had wronged her graciously forgave her,
And, having spread the scandal, or received it,
Loudly declared that they had not believed it.
260
Vernon's return had virtually acquitted her
Of every fault,—those wary ones reflected.
So, having wounded, they came round and pitied her;
And it was Vernon's turn to be suspected—
A man who had so shamefully neglected
That sadly injured and long-suffering one,—
As it appeared, for nothing she had done.
Of every fault,—those wary ones reflected.
So, having wounded, they came round and pitied her;
And it was Vernon's turn to be suspected—
A man who had so shamefully neglected
That sadly injured and long-suffering one,—
As it appeared, for nothing she had done.
But women—and the world—condone in men
What they condemn in women without charity.
And so when Vernon blossomed out again,
A fashion-flower of such distinguished rarity,
After his recent slight irregularity
Of conduct,—he was marvelled at, admired,
Gossiped about, and all the more desired.
What they condemn in women without charity.
And so when Vernon blossomed out again,
A fashion-flower of such distinguished rarity,
After his recent slight irregularity
Of conduct,—he was marvelled at, admired,
Gossiped about, and all the more desired.
If men have manners, never mind their morals!
And do not make too close investigation
Into the intrigues and domestic quarrels
Of such as hold high cards of wealth and station:
Why pass with scorn, or view with indignation,
Or any thing so impolite as passion,
A gentleman of fortune, or of fashion?
And do not make too close investigation
Into the intrigues and domestic quarrels
Of such as hold high cards of wealth and station:
Why pass with scorn, or view with indignation,
Or any thing so impolite as passion,
A gentleman of fortune, or of fashion?
261
Society is full of politic,
Smooth people, courteous, shunning all dissension,
Who, should they find even Judas in their clique,
Well-dressed, would treat him with polite attention,
And hardly think it worth the while to mention
That most unfortunate misunderstanding
He is reported to have had a hand in.
Smooth people, courteous, shunning all dissension,
Who, should they find even Judas in their clique,
Well-dressed, would treat him with polite attention,
And hardly think it worth the while to mention
That most unfortunate misunderstanding
He is reported to have had a hand in.
Behind this stucco of the world's politeness,
I find some moral framework not amiss,
To give the social fabric strength and lightness.
The sculptured forms of strong, fair courtesies
Uphold while they adorn the edifice;
Like Caryatides, whose true intent
Is strength and grace,—support and ornament.
I find some moral framework not amiss,
To give the social fabric strength and lightness.
The sculptured forms of strong, fair courtesies
Uphold while they adorn the edifice;
Like Caryatides, whose true intent
Is strength and grace,—support and ornament.
By the Cuban passport system—quite too strict in some points, but perhaps not in this—the husband who has lately taken his wife into the island cannot obtain his permit to leave without her, unless he first exhibits at the Bureau her written consent. Probably this is what Florinda alludes to.
262
5. PART V.
HUSBAND AND LOVER.
I.
I do not say that Guy was to be sorted
With wretches guilty of some heinous treason;
Only that he was quite absurdly courted—
To his annoyance: partly for which reason
He hurried to the mountains for a season,
With Mrs. Vernon,—to piece on a truer
And happier ending to their bridal tour.
With wretches guilty of some heinous treason;
Only that he was quite absurdly courted—
To his annoyance: partly for which reason
He hurried to the mountains for a season,
With Mrs. Vernon,—to piece on a truer
And happier ending to their bridal tour.
Happier no doubt it was; and yet not wholly
Happy for either. Vernon was oppressed
By a persistent, gentle melancholy:
It seemed as if the world within his breast
Were, like the peaceful world without, possessed
By the sad spirit of the early Fall,
Which in a pensive haze enveloped all.
Happy for either. Vernon was oppressed
By a persistent, gentle melancholy:
It seemed as if the world within his breast
Were, like the peaceful world without, possessed
By the sad spirit of the early Fall,
Which in a pensive haze enveloped all.
263
Florinda's heart still suffered from the sense
Of hidden wrong,—a constant, slow corroding;
Seeking for sympathy and confidence,
She met the shadow of a vague foreboding;
And felt, beside, the ceaseless, secret goading
Of her own conscience, and the thought of Lorne,—
Deep in her heart an ever-present thorn.
Of hidden wrong,—a constant, slow corroding;
Seeking for sympathy and confidence,
She met the shadow of a vague foreboding;
And felt, beside, the ceaseless, secret goading
Of her own conscience, and the thought of Lorne,—
Deep in her heart an ever-present thorn.
Moreover, she this startling fact discovered,—
Saturn was never very far away!
Wherever they might be, around them hovered
The banished Varlet, like a bird of prey.
He came on business; but he seemed to stay
For pleasure; and she knew that Guy conferred
In secresy with that forbidden bird.
Saturn was never very far away!
Wherever they might be, around them hovered
The banished Varlet, like a bird of prey.
He came on business; but he seemed to stay
For pleasure; and she knew that Guy conferred
In secresy with that forbidden bird.
Which state of things she could at last endure
No longer. “I entreat you, dear,” she cried,
“Take back the man—you need him, I am sure—
For my sake! I shall not be satisfied
Until you do.” But Vernon smiled and sighed.
“I do not need him very much, I find,—
Save now and then. But you are very kind.”
No longer. “I entreat you, dear,” she cried,
“Take back the man—you need him, I am sure—
For my sake! I shall not be satisfied
Until you do.” But Vernon smiled and sighed.
“I do not need him very much, I find,—
Save now and then. But you are very kind.”
264
Her pent-up passion now began to surge
Within her, overleaping all discretion;
And pain and penitence combined to urge
Her desperately on to make confession
Of her first fault and subsequent transgression,—
In the wild hope that he might make as ample
A revelation, following her example.
Within her, overleaping all discretion;
And pain and penitence combined to urge
Her desperately on to make confession
Of her first fault and subsequent transgression,—
In the wild hope that he might make as ample
A revelation, following her example.
II.
Beside a torrent, on a great gray boulder,
They rested, in a little paradise
Of wood and stream: her hand was on his shoulder;
And full on him she turned her troubled eyes,
Deep as the pools, reflecting deep blue skies,
That trembled near them, fringed by the long lashes
Of curved birch boughs and overleaning ashes.
They rested, in a little paradise
Of wood and stream: her hand was on his shoulder;
And full on him she turned her troubled eyes,
Deep as the pools, reflecting deep blue skies,
That trembled near them, fringed by the long lashes
Of curved birch boughs and overleaning ashes.
“O, will you let me speak? I cannot bear
This coldness and reserve!”—A quick flush came
Into his cheek.—“Dear, if we cannot share
Each other's sorrows, even each other's shame,
I feel that we are married but in name,
And all our hopes of happiness must fail!”
The quick flush vanished, and his cheek grew pale.
This coldness and reserve!”—A quick flush came
Into his cheek.—“Dear, if we cannot share
Each other's sorrows, even each other's shame,
I feel that we are married but in name,
And all our hopes of happiness must fail!”
The quick flush vanished, and his cheek grew pale.
265
Her loosened scarf was trailing in the current,
Fallen from her arm unheeded. Wildly blended
With the tumultuous voices of the torrent,
Thrillingly eloquent her own ascended
The gamut of strong passion, till she ended
With accusation of herself, and spoke
Of Lorne, when sobs convulsed her, and it broke.
Fallen from her arm unheeded. Wildly blended
With the tumultuous voices of the torrent,
Thrillingly eloquent her own ascended
The gamut of strong passion, till she ended
With accusation of herself, and spoke
Of Lorne, when sobs convulsed her, and it broke.
III.
Thereupon Vernon, who sat strangely pallid,
Finding her theme was not just what he feared,
Though leading towards that danger, quickly rallied,
And (miracle of married men!) appeared
Quite unaccountably relieved and cheered,
As if her fault gave life an added flavor,
And she had really rendered him a favor.
Finding her theme was not just what he feared,
Though leading towards that danger, quickly rallied,
And (miracle of married men!) appeared
Quite unaccountably relieved and cheered,
As if her fault gave life an added flavor,
And she had really rendered him a favor.
She recommenced her story; but before
She could make full confession, he broke in:
“You will but give me pain by telling more!
Whatever your imprudence may have been,
I know you have been guilty of no sin.
You may have erred in wisdom, not in virtue;
That is yourself, and never could desert you.”
She could make full confession, he broke in:
“You will but give me pain by telling more!
Whatever your imprudence may have been,
I know you have been guilty of no sin.
You may have erred in wisdom, not in virtue;
That is yourself, and never could desert you.”
266
She tried to speak, but still he would not hear her.
“There 's no true marriage without trust!” said he.
“My perfect faith in you is as a mirror,
In which your white unsullied soul I see.
If you but have the same high trust in me,—
Which 'tis my life's endeavor to deserve,—
We shall not feel this coldness and reserve.
“There 's no true marriage without trust!” said he.
“My perfect faith in you is as a mirror,
In which your white unsullied soul I see.
If you but have the same high trust in me,—
Which 'tis my life's endeavor to deserve,—
We shall not feel this coldness and reserve.
“Obedience to this law alone secures
True wedded bliss.—This Robert I must know,
And he shall be my friend, as he is yours.
And like this mountain stream our life shall flow,
As bright and happy”—Here she quite let go
The scarf her hand unconsciously was trailing,
Which off upon the whirling stream went sailing.
True wedded bliss.—This Robert I must know,
And he shall be my friend, as he is yours.
And like this mountain stream our life shall flow,
As bright and happy”—Here she quite let go
The scarf her hand unconsciously was trailing,
Which off upon the whirling stream went sailing.
Away it floated, light as any feather;
And he, before the waves could wholly wet it,
Reckless alike of health and patent leather,
With a resounding splash, jumped in to get it;
Less like a husband who might well have let it
Await some prudent action, than a lover,
Who for a glove would have gone in all over.
And he, before the waves could wholly wet it,
Reckless alike of health and patent leather,
With a resounding splash, jumped in to get it;
Less like a husband who might well have let it
Await some prudent action, than a lover,
Who for a glove would have gone in all over.
267
The conversation, which was interrupted,
Was not resumed; and Vernon did not learn
How far Florinda's heart had been corrupted;
Nor did he show thereat the least concern
Or after-thought; save that, on their return
From travel, he reminded her to send
Some sort of invitation to her friend.
Was not resumed; and Vernon did not learn
How far Florinda's heart had been corrupted;
Nor did he show thereat the least concern
Or after-thought; save that, on their return
From travel, he reminded her to send
Some sort of invitation to her friend.
IV.
A fine surprise, meanwhile—which we must mention—
Awaited her; and happily expressed
The tender husband's delicate attention,
Not only to her worldly interest,
But to her lightest fancies, known or guessed.
Out driving, they drew up before a brown
Stone front, one day, on their return to town;
Awaited her; and happily expressed
The tender husband's delicate attention,
Not only to her worldly interest,
But to her lightest fancies, known or guessed.
Out driving, they drew up before a brown
Stone front, one day, on their return to town;
And with a princeliness that had no precedence
Even in his princely conduct, Vernon there
Presented her a charming city residence,
Finished and furnished with the greatest care,
And filled with objects elegant and rare;
All in accordance with her utmost wishes,
Even to the monogram upon the dishes.
Even in his princely conduct, Vernon there
Presented her a charming city residence,
Finished and furnished with the greatest care,
And filled with objects elegant and rare;
All in accordance with her utmost wishes,
Even to the monogram upon the dishes.
268
“All 's yours:” he put a package in her hand:
“These are insurance papers and the deed.”
“O, now,” she said, “I think I understand!”
Seeing just then, with eyes too dim to read,
From the back stairs a swarthy face recede,
With points to its mustaches, and a pattern
Of necktie that reminded her of Saturn.
“These are insurance papers and the deed.”
“O, now,” she said, “I think I understand!”
Seeing just then, with eyes too dim to read,
From the back stairs a swarthy face recede,
With points to its mustaches, and a pattern
Of necktie that reminded her of Saturn.
It was a jewel of a house; in short,
The very place where one might hope to drown
Memories and cares of an uncanny sort,
And set one's self serenely to live down
Evil reports about one in the town,—
An easy matter in a neat, brown-stone,
Luxurious little mansion of one's own.
The very place where one might hope to drown
Memories and cares of an uncanny sort,
And set one's self serenely to live down
Evil reports about one in the town,—
An easy matter in a neat, brown-stone,
Luxurious little mansion of one's own.
Fair fortune is a magic cloak, which renders
Invisible the foibles of the wearer;
And like a lovely setting, outward splendors
To dazzled eyes make what is fair seem fairer;
While loads of wealth no more exalt the bearer
Unskilled in its fine uses, than the pack
Of costly goods upon an ass's back.
Invisible the foibles of the wearer;
And like a lovely setting, outward splendors
To dazzled eyes make what is fair seem fairer;
While loads of wealth no more exalt the bearer
Unskilled in its fine uses, than the pack
Of costly goods upon an ass's back.
269
The Vernons were not of this vulgar class;
But polished ease and elegance of place
Seemed native to them, as the lakelet's glass
To the swan's form and duplicated grace.
To their grand house thronged Flattery and Grimace;
And it became the favorite resort
Of a small circle of the better sort.
But polished ease and elegance of place
Seemed native to them, as the lakelet's glass
To the swan's form and duplicated grace.
To their grand house thronged Flattery and Grimace;
And it became the favorite resort
Of a small circle of the better sort.
V.
Of these was Lorne, who nobly had subdued
His heart meanwhile to sweet self-sacrifice
And aspiration for his lady's good;
So that he now appeared to casual eyes
No more Florinda's friend than he was Guy's.
Blessed, if not happy, in a book of songs
He forged his fancies and forgot his wrongs.
His heart meanwhile to sweet self-sacrifice
And aspiration for his lady's good;
So that he now appeared to casual eyes
No more Florinda's friend than he was Guy's.
Blessed, if not happy, in a book of songs
He forged his fancies and forgot his wrongs.
He always saw the husband with the wife;
And him he studied with a most devout
Desire to solve the mystery of his life;
But found not even a thread to ravel out.
He went but seldom,—wisely I 've no doubt;
Though Vernon always met him with a glow
Of welcome which Florinda did not show.
And him he studied with a most devout
Desire to solve the mystery of his life;
But found not even a thread to ravel out.
He went but seldom,—wisely I 've no doubt;
Though Vernon always met him with a glow
Of welcome which Florinda did not show.
270
And was she happy? Well, at least she seemed so,
And that was something: often we care less
For really being so, than being deemed so,
And better bear the loss of happiness
Than the world's comment on our ill success:
Rather will Pride relinquish every vestige
Of honest substance, than the phantom, prestige.
And that was something: often we care less
For really being so, than being deemed so,
And better bear the loss of happiness
Than the world's comment on our ill success:
Rather will Pride relinquish every vestige
Of honest substance, than the phantom, prestige.
Still something of this pride survived in her,
In spite of suffering and humiliation;
And served to mould and finish, as it were,
That placid mien and perfect modulation
Of smile and speech, that so became her station,
And masked in manners exquisitely charming,
None guessed what thoughts distressful or alarming.
In spite of suffering and humiliation;
And served to mould and finish, as it were,
That placid mien and perfect modulation
Of smile and speech, that so became her station,
And masked in manners exquisitely charming,
None guessed what thoughts distressful or alarming.
Her fame was fair, her beauty shone full-orbed,
'Mid diamond stars and luminous clouds of shawls
And laces: time and thought seemed all absorbed
In dressing and undressing, making calls,
In dinners, drives, receptions, operas, balls;
To cope with which, in all their gay confusion,
Argues, if not great sense, some constitution.
'Mid diamond stars and luminous clouds of shawls
And laces: time and thought seemed all absorbed
In dressing and undressing, making calls,
In dinners, drives, receptions, operas, balls;
To cope with which, in all their gay confusion,
Argues, if not great sense, some constitution.
271
Vernon was ever ready to escort her
In all these rounds of fashionable folly,—
In nothing would her loving husband thwart her,—
Although he had not yet recovered wholly
From his late, strange, autumnal melancholy:
Far from attempting selfishly to stay it, he
Joined with her in the giddy whirl of gayety.
In all these rounds of fashionable folly,—
In nothing would her loving husband thwart her,—
Although he had not yet recovered wholly
From his late, strange, autumnal melancholy:
Far from attempting selfishly to stay it, he
Joined with her in the giddy whirl of gayety.
VI.
A truer solace in the mind's resources
Lorne had meanwhile. There is a correlation
Of spiritual as of material forces:
The passions which we waste in dissipation,
Swayed by the soul are tides of inspiration;
And the same power that devastates the bosom
With tempests, reappears in bud and blossom.
Lorne had meanwhile. There is a correlation
Of spiritual as of material forces:
The passions which we waste in dissipation,
Swayed by the soul are tides of inspiration;
And the same power that devastates the bosom
With tempests, reappears in bud and blossom.
To reach somehow the good all men aspire;
But in our ignorance and impatience, we
Encounter countless ills; and find that fire,
Which comforts, also will consume. Ah me!
How beautiful some broken lives might be,
Did only mild and sane desires attend us,
And not the overpowering and tremendous!
But in our ignorance and impatience, we
Encounter countless ills; and find that fire,
Which comforts, also will consume. Ah me!
How beautiful some broken lives might be,
Did only mild and sane desires attend us,
And not the overpowering and tremendous!
272
While love, debased, is like the prophet's rod,
Which changed into a serpent on the ground,
Exalted, 'tis the noblest gift of God,
By beams of potent influence ring'd around.
With something of this glory Lorne was crowned,
Which rayed a subtle light into his look,
And played about the pages of his book.
Which changed into a serpent on the ground,
Exalted, 'tis the noblest gift of God,
By beams of potent influence ring'd around.
With something of this glory Lorne was crowned,
Which rayed a subtle light into his look,
And played about the pages of his book.
All things he saw as symbols, in a splendor
Of beauty and bright meanings not their own.
There walked with him a Presence sweet and tender,
By an unwonted light and joy made known,
So that when loneliest he was least alone;
Tasting that ecstasy, or something near it,
Which saints have in the presence of the Spirit.
Of beauty and bright meanings not their own.
There walked with him a Presence sweet and tender,
By an unwonted light and joy made known,
So that when loneliest he was least alone;
Tasting that ecstasy, or something near it,
Which saints have in the presence of the Spirit.
It seemed as if the staid old Universe,
Moved by a more than Orphean inspiration,
Did reel and dance into his joyous verse;
And it were all the business of Creation
To masquerade to his imagination,
In fleeting shapes, through whose thin veils he saw
The gray old verities of Life and Law.
Moved by a more than Orphean inspiration,
Did reel and dance into his joyous verse;
And it were all the business of Creation
To masquerade to his imagination,
In fleeting shapes, through whose thin veils he saw
The gray old verities of Life and Law.
273
Where is the key to this divine condition?
What is the flame that, touching brow and lips,
Confers the poet's power of speech and vision?
Or leaves him in mysterious, dull eclipse,
When neither toil nor prayer, nor all the whips
And scourges of the conscience and the will,
Can bring again the vision and the thrill!
What is the flame that, touching brow and lips,
Confers the poet's power of speech and vision?
Or leaves him in mysterious, dull eclipse,
When neither toil nor prayer, nor all the whips
And scourges of the conscience and the will,
Can bring again the vision and the thrill!
In solitude, or in the busy street,
Almost without his choice or his endeavor,
His songs sung to him, and he found them sweet,
So sweet and varied, that it seemed they never
Might cease again, but so sing on forever!—
A possibility which looms appalling,
In some who have the choice and not the calling.
Almost without his choice or his endeavor,
His songs sung to him, and he found them sweet,
So sweet and varied, that it seemed they never
Might cease again, but so sing on forever!—
A possibility which looms appalling,
In some who have the choice and not the calling.
Strange seemed sometimes the sound of his own name,
An echo of some far-off memory!
But from Florinda now a summons came,
That broke this bubble of bright ecstasy.
“For my sake, for my husband's, come to me!”
She wrote,—or words of like portentous presage;
And off went Lorne, obedient to the message.
An echo of some far-off memory!
But from Florinda now a summons came,
That broke this bubble of bright ecstasy.
“For my sake, for my husband's, come to me!”
She wrote,—or words of like portentous presage;
And off went Lorne, obedient to the message.
274
VII.
As he was hasting down Broadway, before
The entrance to a showy lodging-house
He spied a coach, into whose open door
With most dejected mien and haggard brows
Stepped Vernon; while with deprecating bows
A gay mulatto gently pressed him through,
Then quickly followed, and the door clapped to.
The entrance to a showy lodging-house
He spied a coach, into whose open door
With most dejected mien and haggard brows
Stepped Vernon; while with deprecating bows
A gay mulatto gently pressed him through,
Then quickly followed, and the door clapped to.
“Saturn, by Heaven!” thought Rob, as off they sped.
It happened in a moment; but this chance
To the astonished Lorne interpreted
Florinda's business with him in advance;
For it had taken but a passing glance
To see in Vernon's singular appearance
Something that called for friendly interference.
It happened in a moment; but this chance
To the astonished Lorne interpreted
Florinda's business with him in advance;
For it had taken but a passing glance
To see in Vernon's singular appearance
Something that called for friendly interference.
He hurried to the house. He had not seen her
For many days, and was dismayed to find
How changed she was in feature and demeanor,—
Frantic in action and half-crazed in mind;
For, meeting him, she left her mask behind;
And flung herself before him with a cry,
Grief in her speech and frenzy in her eye.
For many days, and was dismayed to find
How changed she was in feature and demeanor,—
Frantic in action and half-crazed in mind;
For, meeting him, she left her mask behind;
And flung herself before him with a cry,
Grief in her speech and frenzy in her eye.
275
VIII.
“O Rob!” she cried, “I have no friend but you!
And you must help me—for no other can!”
“I know,” he said: “he 's gone! What can I do?”
“Oh! if you could have seen him when he ran
Shrieking away—‘O save me from that man!’
But it was sadder still to see him cower
And yield,—when Saturn had him in his power,—
And you must help me—for no other can!”
“I know,” he said: “he 's gone! What can I do?”
“Oh! if you could have seen him when he ran
Shrieking away—‘O save me from that man!’
But it was sadder still to see him cower
And yield,—when Saturn had him in his power,—
“And coldly thrust me off, and hear him say
He went of his own will! It is not so!
That dreadful man has taken him away
For his own selfish ends—which I will know!
If ever you would serve me, Robert, go!
Follow that fiend, before it is too late,
And save my husband from some horrid fate!”
He went of his own will! It is not so!
That dreadful man has taken him away
For his own selfish ends—which I will know!
If ever you would serve me, Robert, go!
Follow that fiend, before it is too late,
And save my husband from some horrid fate!”
Lorne tells what he has seen: yet small the hope
That ever he can get on Saturn's trace:
And how can one like him expect to cope
With a great villain of such crafty ways?
Still, eager to assist her, he obeys;
Receives her blessing in their brief adieux,—
And money, which he cannot well refuse.
That ever he can get on Saturn's trace:
And how can one like him expect to cope
With a great villain of such crafty ways?
Still, eager to assist her, he obeys;
Receives her blessing in their brief adieux,—
And money, which he cannot well refuse.
276
No sooner left alone than, recollecting
What Guy before had told her of his going,
Which was not to be questioned; and reflecting
How much more fatal sometimes is the knowing
Of hidden things than all the evil growing
Out of the things themselves while they are hidden;
And what a thankless errand she had bidden
What Guy before had told her of his going,
Which was not to be questioned; and reflecting
How much more fatal sometimes is the knowing
Of hidden things than all the evil growing
Out of the things themselves while they are hidden;
And what a thankless errand she had bidden
Her friend perform,—she wished to call him back;
But quieted her conscience with the thought
That he could hardly get upon their track,—
That they who had so many times been sought
Vainly by others, were not to be caught.
Then in a strong revulsion of distress,
Clasping wild hands, she prayed for his success.
But quieted her conscience with the thought
That he could hardly get upon their track,—
That they who had so many times been sought
Vainly by others, were not to be caught.
Then in a strong revulsion of distress,
Clasping wild hands, she prayed for his success.
277
6. PART VI.
SATURN.
I.
Lorne undertook the business with a zeal
And promptness hardly to have been expected.
The lodging-house had little to reveal,
And yet one clew that Saturn had neglected
Showed where his baggage went, and where he checked-it
For a swift western train that afternoon,—
Which Lorne, this point decided, followed soon.
And promptness hardly to have been expected.
The lodging-house had little to reveal,
And yet one clew that Saturn had neglected
Showed where his baggage went, and where he checked-it
For a swift western train that afternoon,—
Which Lorne, this point decided, followed soon.
And now commenced the rather curious chase
Of the escaping husband by the lover.
'Mid crossing trains Lorne often lost the trace
Whereby he hoped to hunt the pair to cover,
Which happy chances helped him to recover,—
A friendly clerk or baggageman, somewhere,
Remembering Saturn's face and foppish air.
Of the escaping husband by the lover.
'Mid crossing trains Lorne often lost the trace
Whereby he hoped to hunt the pair to cover,
Which happy chances helped him to recover,—
A friendly clerk or baggageman, somewhere,
Remembering Saturn's face and foppish air.
278
At last he seemed to lose it altogether
Upon the Mississippi; where he stayed
His course at Memphis, undecided whether
He should go back or forward. Here he strayed
One afternoon along the esplanade
And high bluff of the river-fronting town,
To watch the boats and see the sun go down.
Upon the Mississippi; where he stayed
His course at Memphis, undecided whether
He should go back or forward. Here he strayed
One afternoon along the esplanade
And high bluff of the river-fronting town,
To watch the boats and see the sun go down.
The lyric fit had left him; but the sight
Of the strong river sweeping vast and slow,
Gleaming far off, a flood of crimson light;
And, darkly hung between it and the glow
Of a most lovely sunset sky, the low,
Interminable forests of Arkansas,
Might have inspired some very pretty stanzas.
Of the strong river sweeping vast and slow,
Gleaming far off, a flood of crimson light;
And, darkly hung between it and the glow
Of a most lovely sunset sky, the low,
Interminable forests of Arkansas,
Might have inspired some very pretty stanzas.
The esplanade looks down upon the landing,
A broadly shelving bank, well-trodden and bare,
Called by a singular misunderstanding
The levee,—while there is no levee there;
The famous landing at New Orleans, where
There is one, having fixed the name forever
For that and other landings on the river.
A broadly shelving bank, well-trodden and bare,
Called by a singular misunderstanding
The levee,—while there is no levee there;
The famous landing at New Orleans, where
There is one, having fixed the name forever
For that and other landings on the river.
279
Acres of merchandise, of cotton-bales,
And bales of hay, awaiting transportation;
Ploughs, household goods, and kegs of rum or nails,
Endless supplies for village and plantation,
Enclosed a scene of wondrous animation,
Of outcry and apparent wild confusion
Contrasting with the sunset's soft illusion;—
And bales of hay, awaiting transportation;
Ploughs, household goods, and kegs of rum or nails,
Endless supplies for village and plantation,
Enclosed a scene of wondrous animation,
Of outcry and apparent wild confusion
Contrasting with the sunset's soft illusion;—
The steamers lying broadside to the stream,
With delicately pillared decks, the clang
Of bells, the uproar of escaping steam;
There, tugging at some heavy rope, the gang
Of slaves that all together swayed and sang,
Their voices rising in a wild, rich chime,
To which lithe forms and lithe black arms kept time;
With delicately pillared decks, the clang
Of bells, the uproar of escaping steam;
There, tugging at some heavy rope, the gang
Of slaves that all together swayed and sang,
Their voices rising in a wild, rich chime,
To which lithe forms and lithe black arms kept time;
The shouts of negro-drivers, droves of mules,
Driven in their turn by madly yelling blacks;
Chairs, tables, kitchen-ware and farming-tools,
Carts, wagons, barrels, boxes, bales, and sacks,
Pushed, hauled, rolled, tumbled, tossed, or borne on backs
Of files of men, across the ways of plank
Between the loading steamers and the bank!
Driven in their turn by madly yelling blacks;
Chairs, tables, kitchen-ware and farming-tools,
Carts, wagons, barrels, boxes, bales, and sacks,
Pushed, hauled, rolled, tumbled, tossed, or borne on backs
Of files of men, across the ways of plank
Between the loading steamers and the bank!
280
Then as the sunlight faded from the stream,
And deepening shadows cooled the upper air,
The waves were lighted by the lurid gleam
Of flambeaux that began to smoke and flare,
And cast a picturesque and ruddy glare
On shore and boats and men of every hue—
Among the rest, a face that Robert knew.
And deepening shadows cooled the upper air,
The waves were lighted by the lurid gleam
Of flambeaux that began to smoke and flare,
And cast a picturesque and ruddy glare
On shore and boats and men of every hue—
Among the rest, a face that Robert knew.
III.
He had strolled down upon the bank to note
The arrival of a steamer and await
The travellers disembarking from the boat;
When from the gangway, on through rows of freight,
In the red glare advanced that face of fate,—
Swart features of the alert and powerful sort,
Although a dandy's: Saturn's face, in short.
The arrival of a steamer and await
The travellers disembarking from the boat;
When from the gangway, on through rows of freight,
In the red glare advanced that face of fate,—
Swart features of the alert and powerful sort,
Although a dandy's: Saturn's face, in short.
Lorne's heart leaped to his lips, and he was tempted
To clutch the rascal without more ado,—
A rather risky feat to have attempted,
For Saturn was the stouter of the two;
And always 'tis a thing that you will rue,
So to unmask your purpose, unprepared
To close and finish with the game you 've scared.
To clutch the rascal without more ado,—
A rather risky feat to have attempted,
For Saturn was the stouter of the two;
And always 'tis a thing that you will rue,
So to unmask your purpose, unprepared
To close and finish with the game you 've scared.
281
He looked for Vernon: Saturn came alone,
Bearing a light portmanteau, which he flung
At a black coachman; whose white eyeballs shone
And ivories grinned, as off he marched among
The less distinguished drivers, open swung
His carriage door, and dashed it to again,
Then perched upon his box with whip and rein:
Bearing a light portmanteau, which he flung
At a black coachman; whose white eyeballs shone
And ivories grinned, as off he marched among
The less distinguished drivers, open swung
His carriage door, and dashed it to again,
Then perched upon his box with whip and rein:
Saturn inside and Lorne on foot without!
Here was a crisis: what was to be done?
No moment to be wasted in weak doubt:
Follow he must,—but should he ride or run?
There were the drivers: he selected one,
And straightway mounted with him to his seat:
Money makes coachmen kind and horses fleet.
Here was a crisis: what was to be done?
No moment to be wasted in weak doubt:
Follow he must,—but should he ride or run?
There were the drivers: he selected one,
And straightway mounted with him to his seat:
Money makes coachmen kind and horses fleet.
'Mid drays and piles of freight their way they find.
“What street, my friend?”—“Follow that coach!”—“All right!”
The glare of flambeaux quickly fades behind,
And through the suburbs, on into the night
(Keeping the coach they followed well in sight),
With rattling speed (the ways were dim and rough),
They bowled along the summit of the bluff.
“What street, my friend?”—“Follow that coach!”—“All right!”
The glare of flambeaux quickly fades behind,
And through the suburbs, on into the night
(Keeping the coach they followed well in sight),
With rattling speed (the ways were dim and rough),
They bowled along the summit of the bluff.
282
The mighty river glimmered far below,
Soon lost to view; while on the other hand,
Just breaking from the horizon, looming slow,
The red moon, burning like a red bright brand,
Far over misty levels of dim land
And scattered roofs and gardens shone, and showed
The forward coach drawn up beside the road.
Soon lost to view; while on the other hand,
Just breaking from the horizon, looming slow,
The red moon, burning like a red bright brand,
Far over misty levels of dim land
And scattered roofs and gardens shone, and showed
The forward coach drawn up beside the road.
IV.
With columned front and roof of gleaming slate,
A dim house stood half hid in trees, surrounded
By a high wall. Before a high close gate,
Down from his box the dandy's coachman bounded,
And pulled a bell, whose iron clangor sounded
Hollow within: then straightway open flew
The double panels, while the coach drove through;
A dim house stood half hid in trees, surrounded
By a high wall. Before a high close gate,
Down from his box the dandy's coachman bounded,
And pulled a bell, whose iron clangor sounded
Hollow within: then straightway open flew
The double panels, while the coach drove through;
And closed again behind with sullen clank,
Just as the second coach drove slowly by,—
Shutting their ponderous jaws of bolted plank
Forbiddingly; appearing to defy
Alike marauding force and prying eye.
Then with the brightening moonlight seemed to fall
A deep mysterious silence over all.
Just as the second coach drove slowly by,—
Shutting their ponderous jaws of bolted plank
Forbiddingly; appearing to defy
Alike marauding force and prying eye.
Then with the brightening moonlight seemed to fall
A deep mysterious silence over all.
283
Thought Lorne, “I 've tracked the devil to his den!—
What house is that?”—The driver turned to stare,
(One of your dry, deliberative men,
With a wise drawl), and answered with an air
Of cautious candor: “Friend, you have me there!
That house has got a sort of secret history,—
Leastwise a curious nickname—‘Castle Mystery.’”
What house is that?”—The driver turned to stare,
(One of your dry, deliberative men,
With a wise drawl), and answered with an air
Of cautious candor: “Friend, you have me there!
That house has got a sort of secret history,—
Leastwise a curious nickname—‘Castle Mystery.’”
V.
“Who owns the place?”—“That 's more than I can tell.
Most of the time nobody but an old,
Queer cove ties up here; while the master—well,
Just there comes in the mystery; I 've been told
He practises the art of making gold.
He spends a powerful heap when he 's away;
That gone, he comes and makes some more, they say.”
Most of the time nobody but an old,
Queer cove ties up here; while the master—well,
Just there comes in the mystery; I 've been told
He practises the art of making gold.
He spends a powerful heap when he 's away;
That gone, he comes and makes some more, they say.”
“But that 's a foolish fable!”—“Yes, of course;
Some sort of counterfeiting game, perhaps;
Unnatural stories have some natural source.
The old man helps; he keeps the tools and traps;—
Beats all your deep philosophizing chaps!
Doctor, he 's called: he may be: but the fact is,
He 's all gone up and run to seed in practice.
Some sort of counterfeiting game, perhaps;
Unnatural stories have some natural source.
The old man helps; he keeps the tools and traps;—
Beats all your deep philosophizing chaps!
Doctor, he 's called: he may be: but the fact is,
He 's all gone up and run to seed in practice.
284
“He has a room and shop plumb full of books,
Vials and things; and studies day and night,
And tries experiments, until he looks
Dazed, like an owl that 's brought too near the light:
Keeps that black coachman, and one servant,—white;
And now and then there comes a strutting fellow
That 's neither black nor white, but mongrel yellow.
Vials and things; and studies day and night,
And tries experiments, until he looks
Dazed, like an owl that 's brought too near the light:
Keeps that black coachman, and one servant,—white;
And now and then there comes a strutting fellow
That 's neither black nor white, but mongrel yellow.
“He 's in the coach there now—or was. Some say
He owns the place. That 's their imagination;
And all because he has a pompous way,
As if he had a mortgage on Creation
In his breast-pocket. That 's my observation.
I 've seen him come and go, and then—it 's queer!
Sometimes he won't be round here for a year.
He owns the place. That 's their imagination;
And all because he has a pompous way,
As if he had a mortgage on Creation
In his breast-pocket. That 's my observation.
I 've seen him come and go, and then—it 's queer!
Sometimes he won't be round here for a year.
“Well, no; I never had the luck to see
The master,—he keeps mighty close, somehow.
He 's the last person you would take to be
A rogue, by what they tell me. I allow,
He 's at his business in the house there now;—
He hates it bad enough, but has to do it,
As if some fate or devil drove him to it.”
The master,—he keeps mighty close, somehow.
He 's the last person you would take to be
A rogue, by what they tell me. I allow,
He 's at his business in the house there now;—
He hates it bad enough, but has to do it,
As if some fate or devil drove him to it.”
285
Lorne sought in vain the root of this uncouth,
Fabulous story. Error is a vine,
A parasite upon the tree of Truth,
About whose modest stem its own malign,
Luxurious branches sometimes twist and twine,
Until it seems a hopeless task to single
The true from false, their boughs so mix and mingle.
Fabulous story. Error is a vine,
A parasite upon the tree of Truth,
About whose modest stem its own malign,
Luxurious branches sometimes twist and twine,
Until it seems a hopeless task to single
The true from false, their boughs so mix and mingle.
VI.
Back by the house they drove. An open field
Adjoined the “Castle” grounds, and bounded all.
Eager to see what its gray stones concealed,
Lorne rode into the shadow of the wall,
Rose to his feet, and—being somewhat tall—
Looked over, while his heart beat high and fast,
Into Guy Vernon's strange retreat at last;
Adjoined the “Castle” grounds, and bounded all.
Eager to see what its gray stones concealed,
Lorne rode into the shadow of the wall,
Rose to his feet, and—being somewhat tall—
Looked over, while his heart beat high and fast,
Into Guy Vernon's strange retreat at last;
Nearing the scene of mystery with a thrill.
There lay the garden, half in shadow bound,
Half-silvered by the moonlight soft and still,
Slanting on tree and shrub and cultured ground,
Where many a path and peaceful alley wound;
All perfumed by the breath of early spring.
The tender bud and first sweet blossoming.
There lay the garden, half in shadow bound,
Half-silvered by the moonlight soft and still,
Slanting on tree and shrub and cultured ground,
Where many a path and peaceful alley wound;
All perfumed by the breath of early spring.
The tender bud and first sweet blossoming.
286
Before the quiet garden stood the solemn,
Pale-fronted mansion; its broad, silent mass
Projecting from quaint gable and pale column
A vast and shapeless shadow on the grass:
One warm, bright light behind tall doors of glass,
Which opened from a cheerful banquet-room
On the dark lawn and ray-besprinkled gloom.
Pale-fronted mansion; its broad, silent mass
Projecting from quaint gable and pale column
A vast and shapeless shadow on the grass:
One warm, bright light behind tall doors of glass,
Which opened from a cheerful banquet-room
On the dark lawn and ray-besprinkled gloom.
VII.
There, like the lord and master of the Castle,
A petty despot, at his meat and wine,
Alone, sat Saturn; while an abject vassal
Stood by to serve his dish and see him dine.
Lorne could even see the rings and trinkets shine,
As, blazing there in his own solitary
Magnificence, he ate, and sipped his sherry.
A petty despot, at his meat and wine,
Alone, sat Saturn; while an abject vassal
Stood by to serve his dish and see him dine.
Lorne could even see the rings and trinkets shine,
As, blazing there in his own solitary
Magnificence, he ate, and sipped his sherry.
Soon, having finished his repast, the Varlet
Wiped his mustache and gave the ends a pull;
Then set a smoking-cap of flaming scarlet,
With gorgeous tassels, on his carded wool;
Lit a cigar, and out upon the cool
Veranda stepped, while from the open door
His own burlesquing shadow stretched before.
Wiped his mustache and gave the ends a pull;
Then set a smoking-cap of flaming scarlet,
With gorgeous tassels, on his carded wool;
Lit a cigar, and out upon the cool
Veranda stepped, while from the open door
His own burlesquing shadow stretched before.
287
A base act Robert scorned; and when he saw
Saturn face towards him, all at once he thought
It would be highly proper to withdraw,—
Not just because he dreaded to be caught
Playing the spy; but to the ill-doer naught
Conduces more to virtuous reflection,
Than a good, startling prospect of detection.
Saturn face towards him, all at once he thought
It would be highly proper to withdraw,—
Not just because he dreaded to be caught
Playing the spy; but to the ill-doer naught
Conduces more to virtuous reflection,
Than a good, startling prospect of detection.
And yet there was a fearful fascination
In spying out the stronghold of the foe.
Had he not come with stern determination
To track, to watch, to circumvent, to know
The villain's plots, then strike some sudden blow
To rescue Vernon, or at least determine
The cause of his subjection to such vermin?
In spying out the stronghold of the foe.
Had he not come with stern determination
To track, to watch, to circumvent, to know
The villain's plots, then strike some sudden blow
To rescue Vernon, or at least determine
The cause of his subjection to such vermin?
He would have willingly become a pupil
Of Machiavel himself, but to enhance
Florinda's happiness; and should he scruple
To take advantage now of any chance
Which served his righteous purpose to advance?
It seemed as if the hand of mighty Nemesis
Had led him thus to the mysterious premises.
Of Machiavel himself, but to enhance
Florinda's happiness; and should he scruple
To take advantage now of any chance
Which served his righteous purpose to advance?
It seemed as if the hand of mighty Nemesis
Had led him thus to the mysterious premises.
288
He stooped in shadow, but did not retire:
Hand grasping wall, and trembling knee the coach,
He crouched; when from the Castle rose a dire,
Deep outcry of entreaty and reproach;
And, springing to his feet, he saw approach—
While Saturn turned with cool, sarcastic grin—
Florinda's husband, rushing from within!
Hand grasping wall, and trembling knee the coach,
He crouched; when from the Castle rose a dire,
Deep outcry of entreaty and reproach;
And, springing to his feet, he saw approach—
While Saturn turned with cool, sarcastic grin—
Florinda's husband, rushing from within!
VIII.
Guy Vernon, most astonishingly clad:
In leather apron, bare arms; on his head
A paper cap; in his right hand he had
A sort of ladle; features flushed and red,
As from a furnace whence he just had fled.
A lean, slight figure followed, with lank face,—
The little owl-eyed Doctor of the place.
In leather apron, bare arms; on his head
A paper cap; in his right hand he had
A sort of ladle; features flushed and red,
As from a furnace whence he just had fled.
A lean, slight figure followed, with lank face,—
The little owl-eyed Doctor of the place.
In tones of strong remonstrance and entreaty
Vernon addressed the Varlet; who stood by
Without a flicker of remorse or pity
In the cold, settled purpose of his eye,
And waved him back: then with a plaintive cry
To the freed slave knelt the subjected freeman,
The sad, fallen man to the exalted demon!
Vernon addressed the Varlet; who stood by
Without a flicker of remorse or pity
In the cold, settled purpose of his eye,
And waved him back: then with a plaintive cry
To the freed slave knelt the subjected freeman,
The sad, fallen man to the exalted demon!
289
For so it seemed to Lorne: which when he saw,
His fury he no longer could restrain.
Reckless of danger, dignity, or law,
Or how the outer world he should regain,
From coach to high wall-top he leaped amain,
Dropped down within,—a sheer ten-foot descent,—
And through the shaded shrubbery crashing went
His fury he no longer could restrain.
Reckless of danger, dignity, or law,
Or how the outer world he should regain,
From coach to high wall-top he leaped amain,
Dropped down within,—a sheer ten-foot descent,—
And through the shaded shrubbery crashing went
To lawn, veranda, and wide-open casement;
And stood, one fiery pulse from head to foot,
Before the Varlet turning with amazement,
Guy Vernon staggering back irresolute,
And the lean Doctor blinking pale and mute;
While his astonished coachman, at the wall,
Peered over in blank wonder at it all.
And stood, one fiery pulse from head to foot,
Before the Varlet turning with amazement,
Guy Vernon staggering back irresolute,
And the lean Doctor blinking pale and mute;
While his astonished coachman, at the wall,
Peered over in blank wonder at it all.
Lorne eagerly reached forth his hand for Guy's:
“Vernon! my friend!”—But Saturn, all serene,
Having recovered from his first surprise,
With a polite “Excuse me!” stepped between:
“I do not know you, sir!” with courteous mien
Barring the way. “My Master is engaged.”
Whereat Lorne opened on him, all enraged.
“Vernon! my friend!”—But Saturn, all serene,
Having recovered from his first surprise,
With a polite “Excuse me!” stepped between:
“I do not know you, sir!” with courteous mien
Barring the way. “My Master is engaged.”
Whereat Lorne opened on him, all enraged.
290
“I know you, Alexander,—Dandy Sam—
Saturn or Satan,—what's your name? no matter!”
The Varlet made his wonderful salaam,
And quirked his eyebrows with a leer: “You flatter!”
Preventing still Lorne's progress; while the latter
Called vainly after Guy,—who shrank away
In sad confusion,—charging him to stay.
Saturn or Satan,—what's your name? no matter!”
The Varlet made his wonderful salaam,
And quirked his eyebrows with a leer: “You flatter!”
Preventing still Lorne's progress; while the latter
Called vainly after Guy,—who shrank away
In sad confusion,—charging him to stay.
“I 've come for you—I will not go without you!
Think of Florinda!—all shall yet be well!
What is this net which they have woven about you?
Where is your manhood? Break this hideous spell!”
And Lorne, regardless of a spring and yell
From Saturn, made a dash, the table cleared—
Too late! already Guy had disappeared.
Think of Florinda!—all shall yet be well!
What is this net which they have woven about you?
Where is your manhood? Break this hideous spell!”
And Lorne, regardless of a spring and yell
From Saturn, made a dash, the table cleared—
Too late! already Guy had disappeared.
With him, the Doctor; and behind them both
The obsequious servant had secured the door.
Lorne turned on Saturn; with a thrilling oath,
And look more threatening than his speech, he swore
Not to depart from out that house before
He had conferred with Vernon. “Then I fear
You will stay late!” said Saturn with a leer.
The obsequious servant had secured the door.
Lorne turned on Saturn; with a thrilling oath,
And look more threatening than his speech, he swore
Not to depart from out that house before
He had conferred with Vernon. “Then I fear
You will stay late!” said Saturn with a leer.
291
“You cannot turn me out—I will not stir!
I am commissioned by his injured wife;
And I will take her husband back to her,
Or make you a frank present of my life!”
And, all unarmed, Lorne looked full-armed for strife.
There was a moment's awkward silence; then
The lordly Saturn was himself again.
I am commissioned by his injured wife;
And I will take her husband back to her,
Or make you a frank present of my life!”
And, all unarmed, Lorne looked full-armed for strife.
There was a moment's awkward silence; then
The lordly Saturn was himself again.
X.
He turned magnificently to his henchman,—
Who seemed, in vulgar terms, a sort of cook
And general waiting-man; a stocky Frenchman,
Servile, alert, intelligent; who took
His orders from a signal or a look,
And vanished. Saturn blandly smiled. “You 're right!
You shall be satisfied this very night!
Who seemed, in vulgar terms, a sort of cook
And general waiting-man; a stocky Frenchman,
Servile, alert, intelligent; who took
His orders from a signal or a look,
And vanished. Saturn blandly smiled. “You 're right!
You shall be satisfied this very night!
“Be seated!”—with elaborate politeness.
“You shall be welcome as the lady's friend.
I'm sorry that she questions my uprightness:
You share her prejudice, I apprehend!—
Here 's some refreshment I can recommend.”
The nimble Frenchman placed upon the table
A bottle with an interesting label;
“You shall be welcome as the lady's friend.
I'm sorry that she questions my uprightness:
You share her prejudice, I apprehend!—
Here 's some refreshment I can recommend.”
The nimble Frenchman placed upon the table
A bottle with an interesting label;
292
And poured a glass, which Lorne declined. “No harm, sir!”
Said Saturn with a smile. “I know my place;
So there is no occasion for alarm, sir;
I am too well aware of the disgrace
For gentlemen of your superior race
To drink and fellowship with one of mine.
But there 's no taint of color in the wine!”
Said Saturn with a smile. “I know my place;
So there is no occasion for alarm, sir;
I am too well aware of the disgrace
For gentlemen of your superior race
To drink and fellowship with one of mine.
But there 's no taint of color in the wine!”
XI.
Which sarcasm made Lorne wince. He was a man
Who hated from his heart all tyranny
Of artificial caste and social ban;
In broad, imaginative sympathy
A poet; for, however they may be
Wanting in social manners and urbanity,
Poets are all for freedom and humanity.
Who hated from his heart all tyranny
Of artificial caste and social ban;
In broad, imaginative sympathy
A poet; for, however they may be
Wanting in social manners and urbanity,
Poets are all for freedom and humanity.
“That you have been a servant, or in slavery,
Or have a colored skin,” he cried, “who cares?
Not I! But I have small respect for knavery,
Foppish magnificence and insolent airs!”
At which plain English Saturn grins and glares.
“You 're frank! But 'tis just possible that you
May not see all things, from your point of view.
Or have a colored skin,” he cried, “who cares?
Not I! But I have small respect for knavery,
Foppish magnificence and insolent airs!”
At which plain English Saturn grins and glares.
“You 're frank! But 'tis just possible that you
May not see all things, from your point of view.
293
“What you have called my knavery, in your haste—
Of that there 's something more for you to know.
Then please set down to differences of taste,
And my unhappy race's love of show,
Much of the foppery that disgusts you so;
And it may be the insolence you 've noticed
Is just a proud but ignorant person's protest
Of that there 's something more for you to know.
Then please set down to differences of taste,
And my unhappy race's love of show,
Much of the foppery that disgusts you so;
And it may be the insolence you 've noticed
Is just a proud but ignorant person's protest
“Against injustice which would keep him under,—
Too violent a rebound of self-respect.
That I am what I am, is no great wonder:
No fine advantages, please recollect,
Of birth and education.” Which direct
And simple speech took Robert by surprise,
And brought a curious twinkle to his eyes.
Too violent a rebound of self-respect.
That I am what I am, is no great wonder:
No fine advantages, please recollect,
Of birth and education.” Which direct
And simple speech took Robert by surprise,
And brought a curious twinkle to his eyes.
“That Mr. Vernon's lady deemed that I
Was his bad genius, I was well aware.
But it was not convenient to deny
What none the less was somewhat hard to bear.
No doubt I 've acted strangely in the affair;
But I have been no more the evil cause,
Than whirlwinds are produced by whirling straws.
Was his bad genius, I was well aware.
But it was not convenient to deny
What none the less was somewhat hard to bear.
No doubt I 've acted strangely in the affair;
But I have been no more the evil cause,
Than whirlwinds are produced by whirling straws.
294
“And neither is my master a great villain:
Our weak point lies in his too strict veracity.
With something to conceal, he was not willing
To use a little innocent mendacity,—
Of which I have perhaps a small capacity;
Enough to have invented some slight fiction,
Which would have saved his lady much affliction.
Our weak point lies in his too strict veracity.
With something to conceal, he was not willing
To use a little innocent mendacity,—
Of which I have perhaps a small capacity;
Enough to have invented some slight fiction,
Which would have saved his lady much affliction.
“Don't think my influence over him lies solely
In his great fear to have his trouble known.
For thirty years, sir, he has trusted wholly
To my fidelity: I am proud to own,
That in our boyhood, before he had grown
Familiar with misfortune and disaster,
I was his servant, he my little master.
In his great fear to have his trouble known.
For thirty years, sir, he has trusted wholly
To my fidelity: I am proud to own,
That in our boyhood, before he had grown
Familiar with misfortune and disaster,
I was his servant, he my little master.
“Then when affliction came, our ties were closer.
I shared his fortunes; sleeping or awake,
I was his chosen attendant. You must know, sir,
The ancient family honor was at stake.
There was no sacrifice they would not make—
Honest device they would not try—to hide
The stain upon the old Virginia pride.
I shared his fortunes; sleeping or awake,
I was his chosen attendant. You must know, sir,
The ancient family honor was at stake.
There was no sacrifice they would not make—
Honest device they would not try—to hide
The stain upon the old Virginia pride.
295
“With Master Guy himself the constant dread
Of an exposure had become a steady
Motive and habit, when at last it led
To the deception practised on his lady.
We hoped,—and he believed—that he already
Had passed the crisis,—that his chains were broken.”
Lorne started wonderingly, and would have spoken.
Of an exposure had become a steady
Motive and habit, when at last it led
To the deception practised on his lady.
We hoped,—and he believed—that he already
Had passed the crisis,—that his chains were broken.”
Lorne started wonderingly, and would have spoken.
Saturn proceeded: “Since you 've found us here,
And got some partial facts in your possession,
And are the lady's agent, and appear
A gentleman of sense and good discretion,
I shall go on and make a frank confession
Of the main circumstance—which you have guessed?—
Then we shall make short business with the rest.
And got some partial facts in your possession,
And are the lady's agent, and appear
A gentleman of sense and good discretion,
I shall go on and make a frank confession
Of the main circumstance—which you have guessed?—
Then we shall make short business with the rest.
“This place was fitted for his occupation,
At my suggestion, and with his consent.
Then, when he felt the first faint intimation,—
The coming of the terrible event,—
To keep his secret he was well content
To fly with me, and in this shelter wait
Until the storm was over. But of late,
At my suggestion, and with his consent.
Then, when he felt the first faint intimation,—
The coming of the terrible event,—
To keep his secret he was well content
To fly with me, and in this shelter wait
Until the storm was over. But of late,
296
“Love for his lady, fear to do her wrong,
And hope that still the shadow might pass by,
Has caused my master to delay too long.
But, though I was not pleasing to her eye,
Which had to be avoided, I was nigh,
And watched him close, and when all hope was past,
Of his improvement, brought him off at last.
And hope that still the shadow might pass by,
Has caused my master to delay too long.
But, though I was not pleasing to her eye,
Which had to be avoided, I was nigh,
And watched him close, and when all hope was past,
Of his improvement, brought him off at last.
“Our Doctor was the family physician;
Under his charge my master first was placed.
Then he was offered here, in this position,
Advantages he readily embraced;
Where undisturbed he can indulge his taste
For chemistry, until some fresh attack
Of the disorder brings his patient back.
Under his charge my master first was placed.
Then he was offered here, in this position,
Advantages he readily embraced;
Where undisturbed he can indulge his taste
For chemistry, until some fresh attack
Of the disorder brings his patient back.
“'Tis now twelve years since my old master died,
And left him and his fortune to my care.
The mother went before. We have three tried
And faithful servants, who would neither dare
To tell his secret, nor to hurt a hair
Of that dear head!” Here, winking hard, the dandy,
With a fierce gulp, tossed off a glass of brandy.
And left him and his fortune to my care.
The mother went before. We have three tried
And faithful servants, who would neither dare
To tell his secret, nor to hurt a hair
Of that dear head!” Here, winking hard, the dandy,
With a fierce gulp, tossed off a glass of brandy.
297
“I showed some rudeness, which you'll please excuse.
An ignorant man is liable to err.
Now shall you care to see him? As you choose.
In any case, I do not fancy, sir,
That you will wish to take him back to her!
The thing has gone so far, though, I suppose
It will perhaps be better if she knows.
An ignorant man is liable to err.
Now shall you care to see him? As you choose.
In any case, I do not fancy, sir,
That you will wish to take him back to her!
The thing has gone so far, though, I suppose
It will perhaps be better if she knows.
“Sometimes for several years he is exempt;
Then the old indications: first, a strange
Irritability; then perhaps the attempt
To hide even from himself the coming change
In a forced gayety; then the symptoms range
From moody melancholy and fitful sadness
To deep despondency and downright madness!
Then the old indications: first, a strange
Irritability; then perhaps the attempt
To hide even from himself the coming change
In a forced gayety; then the symptoms range
From moody melancholy and fitful sadness
To deep despondency and downright madness!
“Quite harmless; often fancies he is poor,
But that he has the art of making gold.
Indulgence is the surest way to cure
His whims; and 'tis a comfort to behold
Even a poor madman flattered and consoled.
But when he knelt to-night and begged for snow
To make some silver, I had none to show.”
But that he has the art of making gold.
Indulgence is the surest way to cure
His whims; and 'tis a comfort to behold
Even a poor madman flattered and consoled.
But when he knelt to-night and begged for snow
To make some silver, I had none to show.”
298
XII.
So Saturn told his story; and 'tis time
Mine, too, were ended,—which so far has strayed,
Winding along the indented shores of rhyme,
In many an idle pool and eddy played.—
Lorne did not keep the promise he had made,
But all alone, and sorrowful, and late,
That night, took his departure by the gate.
Mine, too, were ended,—which so far has strayed,
Winding along the indented shores of rhyme,
In many an idle pool and eddy played.—
Lorne did not keep the promise he had made,
But all alone, and sorrowful, and late,
That night, took his departure by the gate.
To know the worst is better than long doubt,
The slow, consuming fever of suspense.
Therefore, when Lorne had traced the mystery out,
And to Florinda bore the news, a sense
Of soothing respite followed long, intense
Horror and dread, and speedily allayed
The anguish of the wound the sharp truth made.
The slow, consuming fever of suspense.
Therefore, when Lorne had traced the mystery out,
And to Florinda bore the news, a sense
Of soothing respite followed long, intense
Horror and dread, and speedily allayed
The anguish of the wound the sharp truth made.
That some remorse for her unjust suspicion
Of Saturn stung her, cannot be denied.
Then came a message sent by Guy's physician;
And questions rose of duty, love, and pride,
Which Robert nobly helped her to decide;
And soon she made a journey,—by her presence
To cheer Guy Vernon in his convalescence.
Of Saturn stung her, cannot be denied.
Then came a message sent by Guy's physician;
And questions rose of duty, love, and pride,
Which Robert nobly helped her to decide;
And soon she made a journey,—by her presence
To cheer Guy Vernon in his convalescence.
299
The wise, who would expel a spectral thing
That haunts the chambers of the lonely mind,
Invite sweet sound and sight of birds that sing,
And flowers and winds and heavenly beams, to find
Freely their way through wide-flung door and blind,
And pure affections, an angelic host,
To fill the rooms and drive away the ghost.
That haunts the chambers of the lonely mind,
Invite sweet sound and sight of birds that sing,
And flowers and winds and heavenly beams, to find
Freely their way through wide-flung door and blind,
And pure affections, an angelic host,
To fill the rooms and drive away the ghost.
The truth was known; and terror of discovery
Swayed Vernon's soul no more as in the past;
And for his mind a more complete recovery
And perfect cure seemed possible at last.
The cloudy future now was clearing fast,
And would have brought in brighter days, no doubt,
When our unlucky civil war broke out.
Swayed Vernon's soul no more as in the past;
And for his mind a more complete recovery
And perfect cure seemed possible at last.
The cloudy future now was clearing fast,
And would have brought in brighter days, no doubt,
When our unlucky civil war broke out.
There, where the treasure is, the heart will be:
Guy Vernon's bride was northern; his estates
And many slaves were in the South; and he,
Having in vain withstood the fiery fates
That strove to rend the covenant of States,
Went with his own, and helped to fight their battles,
To save his cotton, cane, and human chattels.
Guy Vernon's bride was northern; his estates
And many slaves were in the South; and he,
Having in vain withstood the fiery fates
That strove to rend the covenant of States,
Went with his own, and helped to fight their battles,
To save his cotton, cane, and human chattels.
300
His lands were overrun, his slaves were freed,
The cause was lost he struggled to defend,
And poor Florinda wore a widow's weed!
And now no doubt you think the lover friend
Steps in to give our tale a happy end.
But truth is truth; and when the news was carried
To Lorne at last, he had been three years married.
The cause was lost he struggled to defend,
And poor Florinda wore a widow's weed!
And now no doubt you think the lover friend
Steps in to give our tale a happy end.
But truth is truth; and when the news was carried
To Lorne at last, he had been three years married.
XIII.
Not his the queen of wit, or star of beauty,
Dazzling beholders, but a pearl more precious,
Set in the sacred ring of daily duty;
Not vast domain, but something far more spacious;
Nor great renown; yet Fortune has been gracious,
And to requite his simple faith has sent
The all-enclosing freehold of Content.
Dazzling beholders, but a pearl more precious,
Set in the sacred ring of daily duty;
Not vast domain, but something far more spacious;
Nor great renown; yet Fortune has been gracious,
And to requite his simple faith has sent
The all-enclosing freehold of Content.
Smiles of affection keep his fireside bright,
Around his heart light-footed cherubs dance:
Love and the Muse make labor a delight,
The spirit blithe, and sweet the countenance.
Books he has printed, essay, song, romance;
And now—the latest venture of them all—
He publishes a novel in the fall.
Around his heart light-footed cherubs dance:
Love and the Muse make labor a delight,
The spirit blithe, and sweet the countenance.
Books he has printed, essay, song, romance;
And now—the latest venture of them all—
He publishes a novel in the fall.
301
O critic of his little book! I hope
You will not prove of that pedantic class
Who view defects as through a telescope;
But when they see a modest merit pass,
Smile, shrug, look doubtful, and reverse the glass,
Then swear the object is so very small
As scarcely to be visible at all.
You will not prove of that pedantic class
Who view defects as through a telescope;
But when they see a modest merit pass,
Smile, shrug, look doubtful, and reverse the glass,
Then swear the object is so very small
As scarcely to be visible at all.
And take this counsel kindly as I mean it:
In your reviews, don't hasten to disclose
The story's plot,—before the world has seen it,
Pulling to pieces one's poor little rose!
But let its readers—ere the volume goes
To the oblivion of their upper shelves—
Pluck out its little mystery for themselves.
In your reviews, don't hasten to disclose
The story's plot,—before the world has seen it,
Pulling to pieces one's poor little rose!
But let its readers—ere the volume goes
To the oblivion of their upper shelves—
Pluck out its little mystery for themselves.
| [Poems by Trowbridge in] A masque of poets | |