University of Virginia Library

Scene VI.

Night. A room in the Prophet's house. David, seated at a desk, with his back towards Rhoda. He opens papers, looks at them mechanically, lays them aside, and at last rests his head upon his hand. Rhoda sits in another part of the room, with her hands clasped in her lap. Once or twice she lifts her head, looks at David, and seems about to speak.
DAVID
(Turning suddenly.)
You're watching me!

RHODA
Nay, waiting, and, besides,
Wishing that you would speak. To-day's affairs
Leave me in doubt of what the morrow brings.
There's something in a charge that frightens me,
Though vilely made: I never dreamed that crime,
Even as a painted threat, could be so flung
Into our faces.

DAVID
Into mine, not yours!

RHODA
It is the same: the threat, the impossible fact,
One like the other, at my honor strikes.
I do not think of that. Oh, were the day,
And all its horrible aspects, safely o'er!
Were you a nameless servant of the Lord,
Somewhere with me and with our helpless child,
A taper burning calmly, not, as now,
A bonfire whirled and beaten by the winds,
What peace were mine!

VOICES
(Outside, singing in passing.)
Fight for the Prophet!
Fling his banner wide!

RHODA
But, no! you dare not fly,
Though yet the chance is free. The frightened flock,
In its devoted faith, appeals to you,
Who, having led to this, must lead beyond.
An hour's enough: the river's middle stops
Pursuit and summons; but, were you and I
This moment seated on the farther shore,
We needs must cross again.

DAVID
Do you say that?
Do you set duty higher than our lives?
Why, she could say no more!

RHODA
(In a low voice.)
Ah, spare me, David!

[A long silence.]
DAVID
(Musingly.)
Were we together, Rhoda? yes, we were!
One day in June; long, long ago it was:
Wild strawberries along the clearing's edge
Were thick that year; but we grew tired at last;
And I, stretched flat among the fragrant vines,
Looked at the sky: I saw no other thing.
The blue retreated as my vision reached;
And as a pebble slowly deeper, deeper sinks
In still, dark water, up and upward sank
My soul, and sank, and still there was no end.
Somewhere, at last, beyond the invisible stars,
A hoary brightness gathered from the void,
And from the midst there looked a single Eye,
Compact of all ineffable light,—His eye!
And did not blind me.

RHODA
David! and I cried:
You would not speak: I thought you vexed, unkind!
I could not know, till now.

DAVID
We came from school
One day, when, from a rising arch of cloud,
The tempest strained the black-oak on the hill.
You feared to pass: I shouted, through the roar,
“You will not hurt us, God!” and then a bolt
Split with red fire the surging firmament.
But you were pale with terror; on my breast
You hid your eyes; while I, in solemn joy,
Chanted aloud, and waved my arms aloft,
And felt strange fingers pluck my beaten hair,
As one may tease in fondness. Say, do you
Remember, Rhoda?

RHODA
(Weeping.)
Oh, I do!

DAVID
How now,
You cry for memory of it? Ah! I see,
Your memory wears another hue than mine.
You tremble: I exult!

RHODA
Upon us sweeps
A blacker tempest now.

DAVID
Go you to rest;
If struggle come, so gather strength for it.
Fret not for me: my body must be as dead
Before my soul is verily alive.
[Exit Rhoda, slowly. A pause.]
They look to me: if I, in turn, look up,
What help is certain? Yea, but first to look!
I urge my thought; but, swerving from its aim,
It backward speeds, and paints anew the past
In colors which confound me. 'Tis not doubt;
'Tis no renewal of old agonies:
But something cold, that wears the shape of Truth,
Treads down with heavy step, along my path,
The springing harvest, and with fateful hand
Makes sign, “Go on: I follow!”
Get you gone,
Device of Satan! To His law a lie?
He made the covenant a perfect chain,
Which, link by link, am I restoring, soon
To girt us round about,—a lesser world
Where He may reign: one flaw, and all must go!
One flaw? There is no torture known in hell
Enough for such malevolence, if so!
I'll put Thee to the test: our strait is sore;
Thine intervention, since the world began,
Never so needed: do Thy miracle!
Or stand aloof, and let Thy thunders growl
In leash, Thy lightnings flash a distant threat;
But breathe one word of counsel,—give my soul,
Passive before Thee, one victorious thought!
[He paces the room for some minutes in great excitement, then suddenly stops.]
My prayers rebound, as from a solid wall;
My brain refuses to anticipate
The coming problem; and my very hope
Strains, like an eye in darkness, foiled of use!
What palsy thus disorders every sense
Wherein the spirit lives? I cannot see
A hand's-breadth forward, nay, nor fancy aught:
The light burns backward over what has been;
And its last glimmer, fading at my feet,
Leaves all the future darkness!