Lucile By Owen Meredith [i.e. E. R. B. Lytton] |
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| III. |
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| V. | V. |
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| V. |
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 | Lucile |  |
V.
‘Such thoughts could have never,’ he falter'd, ‘I know,
‘Reach'd the heart of Matilda.’
‘Reach'd the heart of Matilda.’
‘Matilda? oh no!
‘But reflect! when such thoughts do not come of themselves
‘To the heart of a woman neglected, like elves
‘That seek lonely places,—there rarely is wanting
‘Some voice at her side, with an evil enchanting
‘To conjure them to her.’
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‘To the heart of a woman neglected, like elves
‘That seek lonely places,—there rarely is wanting
‘Some voice at her side, with an evil enchanting
‘To conjure them to her.’
‘O lady, beware!
‘At this moment, around me I search everywhere
‘For a clue to your words’—
‘At this moment, around me I search everywhere
‘For a clue to your words’—
‘You mistake them,’ she said,
Half fearing, indeed, the effect they had made.
‘I was putting a mere hypothetical case’—
Half fearing, indeed, the effect they had made.
‘I was putting a mere hypothetical case’—
With a long look of trouble he gazed in her face.
‘Woe to him,...’ he exclaim'd... ‘woe to him that should feel
‘Such a hope! for I swear, if he did but reveal
‘One glimpse,—it should be the last hope of his life!’
The clench'd hand and bent eyebrow betoken'd the strife
She had roused in his heart.
‘Woe to him,...’ he exclaim'd... ‘woe to him that should feel
‘Such a hope! for I swear, if he did but reveal
‘One glimpse,—it should be the last hope of his life!’
The clench'd hand and bent eyebrow betoken'd the strife
She had roused in his heart.
‘You forget,’ she began,
‘That you menace yourself. You yourself are the man
‘That is guilty. Alas! must it ever be so?
‘Do we stand in our own light, wherever we go,
‘And fight our own shadows for ever? O think!
‘The trial from which you, the stronger ones, shrink,
‘You ask woman, the weaker one, still to endure;
‘You bid her be true to the laws you abjure;
‘To abide by the ties you yourselves rend asunder,
‘With the force that has fail'd you; and that too, when under
‘The assumption of rights which to her you refuse,
‘The immunity claim'd for yourselves you abuse!
‘Where the contract exists, it involves obligation
‘To both husband and wife, in an equal relation.
‘You unloose, in asserting your own liberty,
‘A knot, which, unloosed, leaves another as free.
‘Then, O Alfred! be juster at heart: and thank Heaven
‘That Heaven to your wife such a nature has given
‘That you have not wherewith to reproach her, albeit
‘You have cause to reproach your own self, could you see it!’
‘That you menace yourself. You yourself are the man
‘That is guilty. Alas! must it ever be so?
‘Do we stand in our own light, wherever we go,
‘And fight our own shadows for ever? O think!
‘The trial from which you, the stronger ones, shrink,
‘You ask woman, the weaker one, still to endure;
‘You bid her be true to the laws you abjure;
‘To abide by the ties you yourselves rend asunder,
‘With the force that has fail'd you; and that too, when under
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‘The immunity claim'd for yourselves you abuse!
‘Where the contract exists, it involves obligation
‘To both husband and wife, in an equal relation.
‘You unloose, in asserting your own liberty,
‘A knot, which, unloosed, leaves another as free.
‘Then, O Alfred! be juster at heart: and thank Heaven
‘That Heaven to your wife such a nature has given
‘That you have not wherewith to reproach her, albeit
‘You have cause to reproach your own self, could you see it!’
| Lucile | |