[Poems by Trowbridge in] A masque of poets Including Guy Vernon, a novelette in verse |
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| 5. | PART V.
HUSBAND AND LOVER. |
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 | [Poems by Trowbridge in] A masque of poets |  |
262
5. PART V.
HUSBAND AND LOVER.
I.
I do not say that Guy was to be sorted
With wretches guilty of some heinous treason;
Only that he was quite absurdly courted—
To his annoyance: partly for which reason
He hurried to the mountains for a season,
With Mrs. Vernon,—to piece on a truer
And happier ending to their bridal tour.
With wretches guilty of some heinous treason;
Only that he was quite absurdly courted—
To his annoyance: partly for which reason
He hurried to the mountains for a season,
With Mrs. Vernon,—to piece on a truer
And happier ending to their bridal tour.
Happier no doubt it was; and yet not wholly
Happy for either. Vernon was oppressed
By a persistent, gentle melancholy:
It seemed as if the world within his breast
Were, like the peaceful world without, possessed
By the sad spirit of the early Fall,
Which in a pensive haze enveloped all.
Happy for either. Vernon was oppressed
By a persistent, gentle melancholy:
It seemed as if the world within his breast
Were, like the peaceful world without, possessed
By the sad spirit of the early Fall,
Which in a pensive haze enveloped all.
263
Florinda's heart still suffered from the sense
Of hidden wrong,—a constant, slow corroding;
Seeking for sympathy and confidence,
She met the shadow of a vague foreboding;
And felt, beside, the ceaseless, secret goading
Of her own conscience, and the thought of Lorne,—
Deep in her heart an ever-present thorn.
Of hidden wrong,—a constant, slow corroding;
Seeking for sympathy and confidence,
She met the shadow of a vague foreboding;
And felt, beside, the ceaseless, secret goading
Of her own conscience, and the thought of Lorne,—
Deep in her heart an ever-present thorn.
Moreover, she this startling fact discovered,—
Saturn was never very far away!
Wherever they might be, around them hovered
The banished Varlet, like a bird of prey.
He came on business; but he seemed to stay
For pleasure; and she knew that Guy conferred
In secresy with that forbidden bird.
Saturn was never very far away!
Wherever they might be, around them hovered
The banished Varlet, like a bird of prey.
He came on business; but he seemed to stay
For pleasure; and she knew that Guy conferred
In secresy with that forbidden bird.
Which state of things she could at last endure
No longer. “I entreat you, dear,” she cried,
“Take back the man—you need him, I am sure—
For my sake! I shall not be satisfied
Until you do.” But Vernon smiled and sighed.
“I do not need him very much, I find,—
Save now and then. But you are very kind.”
No longer. “I entreat you, dear,” she cried,
“Take back the man—you need him, I am sure—
For my sake! I shall not be satisfied
Until you do.” But Vernon smiled and sighed.
“I do not need him very much, I find,—
Save now and then. But you are very kind.”
264
Her pent-up passion now began to surge
Within her, overleaping all discretion;
And pain and penitence combined to urge
Her desperately on to make confession
Of her first fault and subsequent transgression,—
In the wild hope that he might make as ample
A revelation, following her example.
Within her, overleaping all discretion;
And pain and penitence combined to urge
Her desperately on to make confession
Of her first fault and subsequent transgression,—
In the wild hope that he might make as ample
A revelation, following her example.
II.
Beside a torrent, on a great gray boulder,
They rested, in a little paradise
Of wood and stream: her hand was on his shoulder;
And full on him she turned her troubled eyes,
Deep as the pools, reflecting deep blue skies,
That trembled near them, fringed by the long lashes
Of curved birch boughs and overleaning ashes.
They rested, in a little paradise
Of wood and stream: her hand was on his shoulder;
And full on him she turned her troubled eyes,
Deep as the pools, reflecting deep blue skies,
That trembled near them, fringed by the long lashes
Of curved birch boughs and overleaning ashes.
“O, will you let me speak? I cannot bear
This coldness and reserve!”—A quick flush came
Into his cheek.—“Dear, if we cannot share
Each other's sorrows, even each other's shame,
I feel that we are married but in name,
And all our hopes of happiness must fail!”
The quick flush vanished, and his cheek grew pale.
This coldness and reserve!”—A quick flush came
Into his cheek.—“Dear, if we cannot share
Each other's sorrows, even each other's shame,
I feel that we are married but in name,
And all our hopes of happiness must fail!”
The quick flush vanished, and his cheek grew pale.
265
Her loosened scarf was trailing in the current,
Fallen from her arm unheeded. Wildly blended
With the tumultuous voices of the torrent,
Thrillingly eloquent her own ascended
The gamut of strong passion, till she ended
With accusation of herself, and spoke
Of Lorne, when sobs convulsed her, and it broke.
Fallen from her arm unheeded. Wildly blended
With the tumultuous voices of the torrent,
Thrillingly eloquent her own ascended
The gamut of strong passion, till she ended
With accusation of herself, and spoke
Of Lorne, when sobs convulsed her, and it broke.
III.
Thereupon Vernon, who sat strangely pallid,
Finding her theme was not just what he feared,
Though leading towards that danger, quickly rallied,
And (miracle of married men!) appeared
Quite unaccountably relieved and cheered,
As if her fault gave life an added flavor,
And she had really rendered him a favor.
Finding her theme was not just what he feared,
Though leading towards that danger, quickly rallied,
And (miracle of married men!) appeared
Quite unaccountably relieved and cheered,
As if her fault gave life an added flavor,
And she had really rendered him a favor.
She recommenced her story; but before
She could make full confession, he broke in:
“You will but give me pain by telling more!
Whatever your imprudence may have been,
I know you have been guilty of no sin.
You may have erred in wisdom, not in virtue;
That is yourself, and never could desert you.”
She could make full confession, he broke in:
“You will but give me pain by telling more!
Whatever your imprudence may have been,
I know you have been guilty of no sin.
You may have erred in wisdom, not in virtue;
That is yourself, and never could desert you.”
266
She tried to speak, but still he would not hear her.
“There 's no true marriage without trust!” said he.
“My perfect faith in you is as a mirror,
In which your white unsullied soul I see.
If you but have the same high trust in me,—
Which 'tis my life's endeavor to deserve,—
We shall not feel this coldness and reserve.
“There 's no true marriage without trust!” said he.
“My perfect faith in you is as a mirror,
In which your white unsullied soul I see.
If you but have the same high trust in me,—
Which 'tis my life's endeavor to deserve,—
We shall not feel this coldness and reserve.
“Obedience to this law alone secures
True wedded bliss.—This Robert I must know,
And he shall be my friend, as he is yours.
And like this mountain stream our life shall flow,
As bright and happy”—Here she quite let go
The scarf her hand unconsciously was trailing,
Which off upon the whirling stream went sailing.
True wedded bliss.—This Robert I must know,
And he shall be my friend, as he is yours.
And like this mountain stream our life shall flow,
As bright and happy”—Here she quite let go
The scarf her hand unconsciously was trailing,
Which off upon the whirling stream went sailing.
Away it floated, light as any feather;
And he, before the waves could wholly wet it,
Reckless alike of health and patent leather,
With a resounding splash, jumped in to get it;
Less like a husband who might well have let it
Await some prudent action, than a lover,
Who for a glove would have gone in all over.
And he, before the waves could wholly wet it,
Reckless alike of health and patent leather,
With a resounding splash, jumped in to get it;
Less like a husband who might well have let it
Await some prudent action, than a lover,
Who for a glove would have gone in all over.
267
The conversation, which was interrupted,
Was not resumed; and Vernon did not learn
How far Florinda's heart had been corrupted;
Nor did he show thereat the least concern
Or after-thought; save that, on their return
From travel, he reminded her to send
Some sort of invitation to her friend.
Was not resumed; and Vernon did not learn
How far Florinda's heart had been corrupted;
Nor did he show thereat the least concern
Or after-thought; save that, on their return
From travel, he reminded her to send
Some sort of invitation to her friend.
IV.
A fine surprise, meanwhile—which we must mention—
Awaited her; and happily expressed
The tender husband's delicate attention,
Not only to her worldly interest,
But to her lightest fancies, known or guessed.
Out driving, they drew up before a brown
Stone front, one day, on their return to town;
Awaited her; and happily expressed
The tender husband's delicate attention,
Not only to her worldly interest,
But to her lightest fancies, known or guessed.
Out driving, they drew up before a brown
Stone front, one day, on their return to town;
And with a princeliness that had no precedence
Even in his princely conduct, Vernon there
Presented her a charming city residence,
Finished and furnished with the greatest care,
And filled with objects elegant and rare;
All in accordance with her utmost wishes,
Even to the monogram upon the dishes.
Even in his princely conduct, Vernon there
Presented her a charming city residence,
Finished and furnished with the greatest care,
And filled with objects elegant and rare;
All in accordance with her utmost wishes,
Even to the monogram upon the dishes.
268
“All 's yours:” he put a package in her hand:
“These are insurance papers and the deed.”
“O, now,” she said, “I think I understand!”
Seeing just then, with eyes too dim to read,
From the back stairs a swarthy face recede,
With points to its mustaches, and a pattern
Of necktie that reminded her of Saturn.
“These are insurance papers and the deed.”
“O, now,” she said, “I think I understand!”
Seeing just then, with eyes too dim to read,
From the back stairs a swarthy face recede,
With points to its mustaches, and a pattern
Of necktie that reminded her of Saturn.
It was a jewel of a house; in short,
The very place where one might hope to drown
Memories and cares of an uncanny sort,
And set one's self serenely to live down
Evil reports about one in the town,—
An easy matter in a neat, brown-stone,
Luxurious little mansion of one's own.
The very place where one might hope to drown
Memories and cares of an uncanny sort,
And set one's self serenely to live down
Evil reports about one in the town,—
An easy matter in a neat, brown-stone,
Luxurious little mansion of one's own.
Fair fortune is a magic cloak, which renders
Invisible the foibles of the wearer;
And like a lovely setting, outward splendors
To dazzled eyes make what is fair seem fairer;
While loads of wealth no more exalt the bearer
Unskilled in its fine uses, than the pack
Of costly goods upon an ass's back.
Invisible the foibles of the wearer;
And like a lovely setting, outward splendors
To dazzled eyes make what is fair seem fairer;
While loads of wealth no more exalt the bearer
Unskilled in its fine uses, than the pack
Of costly goods upon an ass's back.
269
The Vernons were not of this vulgar class;
But polished ease and elegance of place
Seemed native to them, as the lakelet's glass
To the swan's form and duplicated grace.
To their grand house thronged Flattery and Grimace;
And it became the favorite resort
Of a small circle of the better sort.
But polished ease and elegance of place
Seemed native to them, as the lakelet's glass
To the swan's form and duplicated grace.
To their grand house thronged Flattery and Grimace;
And it became the favorite resort
Of a small circle of the better sort.
V.
Of these was Lorne, who nobly had subdued
His heart meanwhile to sweet self-sacrifice
And aspiration for his lady's good;
So that he now appeared to casual eyes
No more Florinda's friend than he was Guy's.
Blessed, if not happy, in a book of songs
He forged his fancies and forgot his wrongs.
His heart meanwhile to sweet self-sacrifice
And aspiration for his lady's good;
So that he now appeared to casual eyes
No more Florinda's friend than he was Guy's.
Blessed, if not happy, in a book of songs
He forged his fancies and forgot his wrongs.
He always saw the husband with the wife;
And him he studied with a most devout
Desire to solve the mystery of his life;
But found not even a thread to ravel out.
He went but seldom,—wisely I 've no doubt;
Though Vernon always met him with a glow
Of welcome which Florinda did not show.
And him he studied with a most devout
Desire to solve the mystery of his life;
But found not even a thread to ravel out.
He went but seldom,—wisely I 've no doubt;
Though Vernon always met him with a glow
Of welcome which Florinda did not show.
270
And was she happy? Well, at least she seemed so,
And that was something: often we care less
For really being so, than being deemed so,
And better bear the loss of happiness
Than the world's comment on our ill success:
Rather will Pride relinquish every vestige
Of honest substance, than the phantom, prestige.
And that was something: often we care less
For really being so, than being deemed so,
And better bear the loss of happiness
Than the world's comment on our ill success:
Rather will Pride relinquish every vestige
Of honest substance, than the phantom, prestige.
Still something of this pride survived in her,
In spite of suffering and humiliation;
And served to mould and finish, as it were,
That placid mien and perfect modulation
Of smile and speech, that so became her station,
And masked in manners exquisitely charming,
None guessed what thoughts distressful or alarming.
In spite of suffering and humiliation;
And served to mould and finish, as it were,
That placid mien and perfect modulation
Of smile and speech, that so became her station,
And masked in manners exquisitely charming,
None guessed what thoughts distressful or alarming.
Her fame was fair, her beauty shone full-orbed,
'Mid diamond stars and luminous clouds of shawls
And laces: time and thought seemed all absorbed
In dressing and undressing, making calls,
In dinners, drives, receptions, operas, balls;
To cope with which, in all their gay confusion,
Argues, if not great sense, some constitution.
'Mid diamond stars and luminous clouds of shawls
And laces: time and thought seemed all absorbed
In dressing and undressing, making calls,
In dinners, drives, receptions, operas, balls;
To cope with which, in all their gay confusion,
Argues, if not great sense, some constitution.
271
Vernon was ever ready to escort her
In all these rounds of fashionable folly,—
In nothing would her loving husband thwart her,—
Although he had not yet recovered wholly
From his late, strange, autumnal melancholy:
Far from attempting selfishly to stay it, he
Joined with her in the giddy whirl of gayety.
In all these rounds of fashionable folly,—
In nothing would her loving husband thwart her,—
Although he had not yet recovered wholly
From his late, strange, autumnal melancholy:
Far from attempting selfishly to stay it, he
Joined with her in the giddy whirl of gayety.
VI.
A truer solace in the mind's resources
Lorne had meanwhile. There is a correlation
Of spiritual as of material forces:
The passions which we waste in dissipation,
Swayed by the soul are tides of inspiration;
And the same power that devastates the bosom
With tempests, reappears in bud and blossom.
Lorne had meanwhile. There is a correlation
Of spiritual as of material forces:
The passions which we waste in dissipation,
Swayed by the soul are tides of inspiration;
And the same power that devastates the bosom
With tempests, reappears in bud and blossom.
To reach somehow the good all men aspire;
But in our ignorance and impatience, we
Encounter countless ills; and find that fire,
Which comforts, also will consume. Ah me!
How beautiful some broken lives might be,
Did only mild and sane desires attend us,
And not the overpowering and tremendous!
But in our ignorance and impatience, we
Encounter countless ills; and find that fire,
Which comforts, also will consume. Ah me!
How beautiful some broken lives might be,
Did only mild and sane desires attend us,
And not the overpowering and tremendous!
272
While love, debased, is like the prophet's rod,
Which changed into a serpent on the ground,
Exalted, 'tis the noblest gift of God,
By beams of potent influence ring'd around.
With something of this glory Lorne was crowned,
Which rayed a subtle light into his look,
And played about the pages of his book.
Which changed into a serpent on the ground,
Exalted, 'tis the noblest gift of God,
By beams of potent influence ring'd around.
With something of this glory Lorne was crowned,
Which rayed a subtle light into his look,
And played about the pages of his book.
All things he saw as symbols, in a splendor
Of beauty and bright meanings not their own.
There walked with him a Presence sweet and tender,
By an unwonted light and joy made known,
So that when loneliest he was least alone;
Tasting that ecstasy, or something near it,
Which saints have in the presence of the Spirit.
Of beauty and bright meanings not their own.
There walked with him a Presence sweet and tender,
By an unwonted light and joy made known,
So that when loneliest he was least alone;
Tasting that ecstasy, or something near it,
Which saints have in the presence of the Spirit.
It seemed as if the staid old Universe,
Moved by a more than Orphean inspiration,
Did reel and dance into his joyous verse;
And it were all the business of Creation
To masquerade to his imagination,
In fleeting shapes, through whose thin veils he saw
The gray old verities of Life and Law.
Moved by a more than Orphean inspiration,
Did reel and dance into his joyous verse;
And it were all the business of Creation
To masquerade to his imagination,
In fleeting shapes, through whose thin veils he saw
The gray old verities of Life and Law.
273
Where is the key to this divine condition?
What is the flame that, touching brow and lips,
Confers the poet's power of speech and vision?
Or leaves him in mysterious, dull eclipse,
When neither toil nor prayer, nor all the whips
And scourges of the conscience and the will,
Can bring again the vision and the thrill!
What is the flame that, touching brow and lips,
Confers the poet's power of speech and vision?
Or leaves him in mysterious, dull eclipse,
When neither toil nor prayer, nor all the whips
And scourges of the conscience and the will,
Can bring again the vision and the thrill!
In solitude, or in the busy street,
Almost without his choice or his endeavor,
His songs sung to him, and he found them sweet,
So sweet and varied, that it seemed they never
Might cease again, but so sing on forever!—
A possibility which looms appalling,
In some who have the choice and not the calling.
Almost without his choice or his endeavor,
His songs sung to him, and he found them sweet,
So sweet and varied, that it seemed they never
Might cease again, but so sing on forever!—
A possibility which looms appalling,
In some who have the choice and not the calling.
Strange seemed sometimes the sound of his own name,
An echo of some far-off memory!
But from Florinda now a summons came,
That broke this bubble of bright ecstasy.
“For my sake, for my husband's, come to me!”
She wrote,—or words of like portentous presage;
And off went Lorne, obedient to the message.
An echo of some far-off memory!
But from Florinda now a summons came,
That broke this bubble of bright ecstasy.
“For my sake, for my husband's, come to me!”
She wrote,—or words of like portentous presage;
And off went Lorne, obedient to the message.
274
VII.
As he was hasting down Broadway, before
The entrance to a showy lodging-house
He spied a coach, into whose open door
With most dejected mien and haggard brows
Stepped Vernon; while with deprecating bows
A gay mulatto gently pressed him through,
Then quickly followed, and the door clapped to.
The entrance to a showy lodging-house
He spied a coach, into whose open door
With most dejected mien and haggard brows
Stepped Vernon; while with deprecating bows
A gay mulatto gently pressed him through,
Then quickly followed, and the door clapped to.
“Saturn, by Heaven!” thought Rob, as off they sped.
It happened in a moment; but this chance
To the astonished Lorne interpreted
Florinda's business with him in advance;
For it had taken but a passing glance
To see in Vernon's singular appearance
Something that called for friendly interference.
It happened in a moment; but this chance
To the astonished Lorne interpreted
Florinda's business with him in advance;
For it had taken but a passing glance
To see in Vernon's singular appearance
Something that called for friendly interference.
He hurried to the house. He had not seen her
For many days, and was dismayed to find
How changed she was in feature and demeanor,—
Frantic in action and half-crazed in mind;
For, meeting him, she left her mask behind;
And flung herself before him with a cry,
Grief in her speech and frenzy in her eye.
For many days, and was dismayed to find
How changed she was in feature and demeanor,—
Frantic in action and half-crazed in mind;
For, meeting him, she left her mask behind;
And flung herself before him with a cry,
Grief in her speech and frenzy in her eye.
275
VIII.
“O Rob!” she cried, “I have no friend but you!
And you must help me—for no other can!”
“I know,” he said: “he 's gone! What can I do?”
“Oh! if you could have seen him when he ran
Shrieking away—‘O save me from that man!’
But it was sadder still to see him cower
And yield,—when Saturn had him in his power,—
And you must help me—for no other can!”
“I know,” he said: “he 's gone! What can I do?”
“Oh! if you could have seen him when he ran
Shrieking away—‘O save me from that man!’
But it was sadder still to see him cower
And yield,—when Saturn had him in his power,—
“And coldly thrust me off, and hear him say
He went of his own will! It is not so!
That dreadful man has taken him away
For his own selfish ends—which I will know!
If ever you would serve me, Robert, go!
Follow that fiend, before it is too late,
And save my husband from some horrid fate!”
He went of his own will! It is not so!
That dreadful man has taken him away
For his own selfish ends—which I will know!
If ever you would serve me, Robert, go!
Follow that fiend, before it is too late,
And save my husband from some horrid fate!”
Lorne tells what he has seen: yet small the hope
That ever he can get on Saturn's trace:
And how can one like him expect to cope
With a great villain of such crafty ways?
Still, eager to assist her, he obeys;
Receives her blessing in their brief adieux,—
And money, which he cannot well refuse.
That ever he can get on Saturn's trace:
And how can one like him expect to cope
With a great villain of such crafty ways?
Still, eager to assist her, he obeys;
Receives her blessing in their brief adieux,—
And money, which he cannot well refuse.
276
No sooner left alone than, recollecting
What Guy before had told her of his going,
Which was not to be questioned; and reflecting
How much more fatal sometimes is the knowing
Of hidden things than all the evil growing
Out of the things themselves while they are hidden;
And what a thankless errand she had bidden
What Guy before had told her of his going,
Which was not to be questioned; and reflecting
How much more fatal sometimes is the knowing
Of hidden things than all the evil growing
Out of the things themselves while they are hidden;
And what a thankless errand she had bidden
Her friend perform,—she wished to call him back;
But quieted her conscience with the thought
That he could hardly get upon their track,—
That they who had so many times been sought
Vainly by others, were not to be caught.
Then in a strong revulsion of distress,
Clasping wild hands, she prayed for his success.
But quieted her conscience with the thought
That he could hardly get upon their track,—
That they who had so many times been sought
Vainly by others, were not to be caught.
Then in a strong revulsion of distress,
Clasping wild hands, she prayed for his success.
| [Poems by Trowbridge in] A masque of poets | |