 | Denzil place |  |
Ah, hapless Constance! so, then, this was love—
This was the master passion of the earth,
This was the envied blessing of the few,
The common curse of the unfortunate!
She saw before her now, without disguise,
The outline of her uneventful life;
Till now, her lonely childhood, motherless—
The handsome easy-going parish priest,
Her father, who had fixed upon the Church
As a profession, merely as a means
Of livelihood for him, a younger son
Of an impov'rish'd house. His thriftless ways,
His open-handed dealings with the poor
“Which saved much time and trouble” (so he said,)
And then his love of sport, his love of wine,
His pressing debts, increasing poverty,
And finally his illness and his death—
And then she saw herself, a little girl
With large appealing eyes, dress'd all in black,
Taken to dwell with a stern kinswoman
She could not love; once more she seem'd to live
In fancy, o'er those miserable days
Of solitude and sadness;—then she thought
Of the first day she saw good kind Sir John
With wrinkled rosy face, and genial laugh,
And how, one day, he took her for a ride—
Lent her a horse, and used to cheer the house,
And make a kinder woman of her Aunt
Whene'er his honest footstep cross'd the door—
And how, when she was only seventeen,
He drove her Aunt and her to Farleigh Court,
Where, in the billiard-room he question'd her
If she admired the place? She said she did,
“So beautiful, so grand, the rooms so large.”
“Well, why not live here!” kind Sir John exclaim'd,
Then hemm'd and haw'd, whilst on his cheek the red
Grew redder; then, with apoplectic snort,
He hurried from the room, and Constance stood
Bewilder'd at his words, tho' guessing nought
Of their intended meaning.
This was the master passion of the earth,
91
The common curse of the unfortunate!
She saw before her now, without disguise,
The outline of her uneventful life;
Till now, her lonely childhood, motherless—
The handsome easy-going parish priest,
Her father, who had fixed upon the Church
As a profession, merely as a means
Of livelihood for him, a younger son
Of an impov'rish'd house. His thriftless ways,
His open-handed dealings with the poor
“Which saved much time and trouble” (so he said,)
And then his love of sport, his love of wine,
His pressing debts, increasing poverty,
And finally his illness and his death—
And then she saw herself, a little girl
With large appealing eyes, dress'd all in black,
Taken to dwell with a stern kinswoman
She could not love; once more she seem'd to live
In fancy, o'er those miserable days
Of solitude and sadness;—then she thought
Of the first day she saw good kind Sir John
With wrinkled rosy face, and genial laugh,
And how, one day, he took her for a ride—
92
And make a kinder woman of her Aunt
Whene'er his honest footstep cross'd the door—
And how, when she was only seventeen,
He drove her Aunt and her to Farleigh Court,
Where, in the billiard-room he question'd her
If she admired the place? She said she did,
“So beautiful, so grand, the rooms so large.”
“Well, why not live here!” kind Sir John exclaim'd,
Then hemm'd and haw'd, whilst on his cheek the red
Grew redder; then, with apoplectic snort,
He hurried from the room, and Constance stood
Bewilder'd at his words, tho' guessing nought
Of their intended meaning.
Up and down
She roll'd the white and color'd billiard-balls—
(She yet could hear the harmless ‘cannoning,’
And still more harmless ‘kisses’ that they made
These three unconscious witnesses to what
So chang'd her life!) Then by and bye her Aunt
Enter'd the room, and open'd wide her arms,
Enfolding to an unaccustom'd kiss
The fair astonish'd girl. Sir John stood near
Smiling and gibb'ring, in a whirl of hope
And doubting diffidence; and next she thought
Of how (all ignorant of what they meant,
Those marriage vows, either to bind or break).
She went to church in white, and how the way
Was strewn with flow'rs, and how she pass'd the grave
Of her dead father, and the wish she felt
That he could see his daughter's happiness.
Her happiness! ah, bitter mockery!
Since then her heart had fathom'd many truths!
She knew that bitterest of bitter things
(As says a German writer) not to feel
So much the pangs of sorrow, as to guess
The unsuspected happiness we miss'd!
She roll'd the white and color'd billiard-balls—
(She yet could hear the harmless ‘cannoning,’
And still more harmless ‘kisses’ that they made
These three unconscious witnesses to what
So chang'd her life!) Then by and bye her Aunt
Enter'd the room, and open'd wide her arms,
Enfolding to an unaccustom'd kiss
The fair astonish'd girl. Sir John stood near
Smiling and gibb'ring, in a whirl of hope
93
Of how (all ignorant of what they meant,
Those marriage vows, either to bind or break).
She went to church in white, and how the way
Was strewn with flow'rs, and how she pass'd the grave
Of her dead father, and the wish she felt
That he could see his daughter's happiness.
Her happiness! ah, bitter mockery!
Since then her heart had fathom'd many truths!
She knew that bitterest of bitter things
(As says a German writer) not to feel
So much the pangs of sorrow, as to guess
The unsuspected happiness we miss'd!
| Denzil place | |