Denzil place a story in verse. By Violet Fane [i.e. M. M. Lamb] |
 |
|
| I. |
| I. |
| II. |
| III. |
| III. |
| V. |
| VI. |
| II. |
| VII. |
| VIII. |
| IX. |
| X. |
| XI. |
| XII. |
 | Denzil place |  |
By and bye
A noise as of a gently closing door
Made Geoffrey start; Constance, as one entranced,
Lay passive in the prison of his arms,
Feeling some new delicious languor steal
Over her senses, blinding, deafening,
A “death in life.”
A noise as of a gently closing door
Made Geoffrey start; Constance, as one entranced,
Lay passive in the prison of his arms,
Feeling some new delicious languor steal
Over her senses, blinding, deafening,
A “death in life.”
“Some one is passing near,”
He whisper'd, “Darling, for the love of heav'n
See that you gain your chamber unobserv'd—
I will not stay to work you harm, by morn
I shall be miles away.” She held his hand
As tho' to let him guide her to the door,
Then, turning, said as in a waking dream,
Looking as pale and haggard as a ghost,
“Remember me sometimes.”
He whisper'd, “Darling, for the love of heav'n
107
I will not stay to work you harm, by morn
I shall be miles away.” She held his hand
As tho' to let him guide her to the door,
Then, turning, said as in a waking dream,
Looking as pale and haggard as a ghost,
“Remember me sometimes.”
“My love, my life,
“My only darling,” Geoffrey cried, and press'd
Once more his hungry loving lips to hers;
“I never can forget you whilst I live—
“Good night—good-bye.”
“My only darling,” Geoffrey cried, and press'd
Once more his hungry loving lips to hers;
“I never can forget you whilst I live—
“Good night—good-bye.”
As a somnambulist
Treads without seeing, so did Constance walk
Towards her lonely chamber; in the hearth
A few expiring embers now and then
Crack'd forth a sign of life. The candles still
Were flick'ring, but a regiment of dwarfs
Compared to what they had been when she left—
This told her first she had been long away,
For in her fever'd brain the flight of Time
She could not calculate;—so mad, so swift
Were those enchanted moments; yet a life,
Nay more, it seem'd a whole eternity
Of wild emotion, passion, ecstacy,
Had pass'd since those four tapers first were lit!
She saw some flow'rs she gather'd yesterday
Treads without seeing, so did Constance walk
Towards her lonely chamber; in the hearth
A few expiring embers now and then
Crack'd forth a sign of life. The candles still
Were flick'ring, but a regiment of dwarfs
Compared to what they had been when she left—
This told her first she had been long away,
For in her fever'd brain the flight of Time
She could not calculate;—so mad, so swift
Were those enchanted moments; yet a life,
Nay more, it seem'd a whole eternity
108
Had pass'd since those four tapers first were lit!
Unfaded, tho' it seemed so long ago,
She went towards her glass half absently,
And gazed and started, for her face looked changed—
The air of child-like innocence was gone—
She groan'd aloud, and falling on her knees
She cover'd with her white and trembling hands
What seem'd the fair accomplice of her guilt.
How long she thus remain'd she did not know,
But when she saw the first faint struggling ray
Of morning, dazed, and shivering with cold
She rose from off her knees, look'd out, and saw
A wintry sun rise on her new-born life,
(For so it seem'd). Her flimsy dressing-gown
Was blown aside, and the chill morning air
Breathed on her heart, but still she stood, and look'd
As might a statue. All at once she heard
A sound as of a passing horse's hoofs—
The laurels hid the rider, but she knew
That it was Geoffrey, faithful to his word,
109
Till then she had not analyzed her thoughts,
They all had been so wild with self-reproach,
But now an uncontrollable desire
To follow him who “lov'd and rode away”
Made her outstretch her empty aching arms
Towards the spot wherefrom the dying sound
Was now but faintly echo'd; then to heav'n
She raised them pleadingly, with clasping hands,
And in her desolation cried aloud
“God bless my darling wheresoe'er he goes!”
| Denzil place | |