Denzil place a story in verse. By Violet Fane [i.e. M. M. Lamb] |
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 | Denzil place |  |
What is it makes the silent hours of night
So sad, so desolate, to those who love?
It cannot be because in lieu of sun,
A paler planet sails aloft in heav'n;
Or that the firmament is prick'd with stars—
Is it, maybe, when half the drowsy world
Are made oblivious by the chains of sleep
To grief, and joy, and love, that thro' some strange
Mysterious compensating natural law,
The other half of human kind, who wake,
Made doubly sensitive, with keener force
Feel those emotions which the sleeping world
Forget in dreams?
So sad, so desolate, to those who love?
It cannot be because in lieu of sun,
A paler planet sails aloft in heav'n;
Or that the firmament is prick'd with stars—
Is it, maybe, when half the drowsy world
Are made oblivious by the chains of sleep
To grief, and joy, and love, that thro' some strange
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The other half of human kind, who wake,
Made doubly sensitive, with keener force
Feel those emotions which the sleeping world
Forget in dreams?
Outside the diamond panes
Of the bay-window'd room where Constance sat
One night in early March, the tempest howled
With all the fury of the Equinox;
Whene'er the wind abated, in a show'r
Of stinging sleet, the noisy midnight rain
Beat on the window. Now and then the fire
(By which she linger'd reading) hissed and smoked
As down the chimney, driven by the wind
There fell a hailing handful of the storm.
Of the bay-window'd room where Constance sat
One night in early March, the tempest howled
With all the fury of the Equinox;
Whene'er the wind abated, in a show'r
Of stinging sleet, the noisy midnight rain
Beat on the window. Now and then the fire
(By which she linger'd reading) hissed and smoked
As down the chimney, driven by the wind
There fell a hailing handful of the storm.
Constance had long been reading, now she paused,
Push'd back her hair, and softly sighing, closed
The finish'd second volume of her book.
The house was silent—the tempestuous voice
Of the conflicting elements without
Made the dim chamber where she sat alone
Seem doubly desolate. A thrill of fear,
She knew not why, crept over ev'ry sense,
(A feeling difficult to realize
In daylight, but which oftentimes at night
Hath chill'd the blood in braver hearts than her's)—
Thinking to scare away this haunting shade
Of an invisible terror, one by one
She lit the candles, stirr'd the dying fire,
And strove to summon fear-dispelling thoughts;
As thus she ponder'd, suddenly there rose
The long-denied and heart-forbidden dream,
Flashing across her mind; she seem'd to hear
With sad distinctness ev'ry silent tone
Of that dear voice—that well remember'd face
Arose so plainly to her memory
She long'd to call upon this shadow-man
To speak—to move, to show himself indeed
To her expectant eyes!
Push'd back her hair, and softly sighing, closed
The finish'd second volume of her book.
The house was silent—the tempestuous voice
Of the conflicting elements without
Made the dim chamber where she sat alone
Seem doubly desolate. A thrill of fear,
She knew not why, crept over ev'ry sense,
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In daylight, but which oftentimes at night
Hath chill'd the blood in braver hearts than her's)—
Thinking to scare away this haunting shade
Of an invisible terror, one by one
She lit the candles, stirr'd the dying fire,
And strove to summon fear-dispelling thoughts;
As thus she ponder'd, suddenly there rose
The long-denied and heart-forbidden dream,
Flashing across her mind; she seem'd to hear
With sad distinctness ev'ry silent tone
Of that dear voice—that well remember'd face
Arose so plainly to her memory
She long'd to call upon this shadow-man
To speak—to move, to show himself indeed
To her expectant eyes!
It was as tho'
The room was full of Geoffrey—all the air
Seem'd heavy with his presence, tho' unseen
It was as if his spirit hover'd near—
So near it seem'd, that o'er her heart a dread
Crept like an icy blast, for she had heard
That oftentimes ere mortals leave the earth
Their spirits hover thus a little while,
Making the influence of their presence felt
By those who lov'd them; oh, if he had died!
If somewhere far away, with land and sea
And mountain-ridges rising up between
Their sunder'd hearts, his thoughts had turned to her,
And thro' some subtle nameless agency
His soul, upon the wings of his desire
Had flown to nestle near her, ere it rose
Above all human loves? In vain she tried
To wake some more substantial train of thought
Instead of this unreasonable dread
Of the impossible. Alas, her book
(A simple story of a city life—
The wholesome history of honest toil,
Inventions, strivings after modest fame
Amongst the smoke of London,) she had read.
It was a book the very thought of which
Would exorcise perforce all foolish fears
Of midnight phantoms, bringing as it did
Such unromantic scenes of common life
Before the mind, unsentimental—real—
She took it up, and listlessly turn'd o'er
The pages she had read, then starting up
Bethought her that the third last volume lay
Upon the sofa in the library
Where she had left it with her worsted work
Some hours ago—
The room was full of Geoffrey—all the air
Seem'd heavy with his presence, tho' unseen
It was as if his spirit hover'd near—
So near it seem'd, that o'er her heart a dread
Crept like an icy blast, for she had heard
That oftentimes ere mortals leave the earth
Their spirits hover thus a little while,
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By those who lov'd them; oh, if he had died!
If somewhere far away, with land and sea
And mountain-ridges rising up between
Their sunder'd hearts, his thoughts had turned to her,
And thro' some subtle nameless agency
His soul, upon the wings of his desire
Had flown to nestle near her, ere it rose
Above all human loves? In vain she tried
To wake some more substantial train of thought
Instead of this unreasonable dread
Of the impossible. Alas, her book
(A simple story of a city life—
The wholesome history of honest toil,
Inventions, strivings after modest fame
Amongst the smoke of London,) she had read.
It was a book the very thought of which
Would exorcise perforce all foolish fears
Of midnight phantoms, bringing as it did
Such unromantic scenes of common life
Before the mind, unsentimental—real—
She took it up, and listlessly turn'd o'er
The pages she had read, then starting up
Bethought her that the third last volume lay
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Where she had left it with her worsted work
Some hours ago—
She almost fear'd to pass
In her “uncanny” superstitious mood
The row of staring Denzils on the walls
Of the deserted corridor, but yet
Knowing how foolish were such childish fears,
She wrapp'd herself in a long flowing robe
Which made her seem herself a lovely ghost,
And taking up her candle, flitted thro'
The quiet passage—down the flight of stairs,
And pushing noiselessly the oaken doors
She glided quickly thro' the silent room
To where she saw the volume of her book.
In her “uncanny” superstitious mood
The row of staring Denzils on the walls
Of the deserted corridor, but yet
Knowing how foolish were such childish fears,
She wrapp'd herself in a long flowing robe
Which made her seem herself a lovely ghost,
And taking up her candle, flitted thro'
The quiet passage—down the flight of stairs,
And pushing noiselessly the oaken doors
She glided quickly thro' the silent room
To where she saw the volume of her book.
As she advanced she heard a rustling sound,
At first she thought “it is the midnight wind
“Driving against the dripping window-ledge
“Some spray of ivy,” then, her heart stood still,
And all her life's warm blood seem'd turn'd to ice
As she beheld, not far from where she stood,
The stooping figure of a man, who knelt
Carefully searching thro' the title-deeds
And papers which an iron case contain'd
Mark'd with the much lov'd name.
At first she thought “it is the midnight wind
“Driving against the dripping window-ledge
“Some spray of ivy,” then, her heart stood still,
And all her life's warm blood seem'd turn'd to ice
As she beheld, not far from where she stood,
The stooping figure of a man, who knelt
Carefully searching thro' the title-deeds
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Mark'd with the much lov'd name.
“A thief!” she thought,
And stood amazed and petrified with fear—
Tho' speechless, from her terror-stricken lips
Escaped a gasp of horror—then the man
Rose to his feet, and look'd her in the face—. . . .
She utter'd one low incoherent cry
And fainting, fell in Geoffrey Denzil's arms.
And stood amazed and petrified with fear—
Tho' speechless, from her terror-stricken lips
Escaped a gasp of horror—then the man
Rose to his feet, and look'd her in the face—. . . .
She utter'd one low incoherent cry
And fainting, fell in Geoffrey Denzil's arms.
| Denzil place | |