University of Virginia Library

But Geoffrey Denzil, though he scarcely breathed,
Was yet alive—beneath some fallen beams
And crumbled brick-work, blacken'd by the smoke
And drenched with water, they at first had deem'd
He had been crushed, for scarcely could they tell
What aspect he would wear when they had freed
His almost buried form. One broken arm
Hung limp and useless; he was stunned, they saw
By a thick beam which struck him on the brow,
But still he lived;—they tended him with care,
Washed from his cheek the trace of smoke and blood,
And saw that it was pale, but still the face
Of one who liv'd. The doctor set his arm,
And watch'd him long, and said some hopeful words.
Thus Constance saw him, when, with new-found strength,
Hearing he liv'd, with Roland by her side,
She asked for tidings, longing once again
To see his face ere it might be too late.
She thought she would not care, so he should live,
E'en if she did not ever see again
The face that seem'd so beautiful to her—
Only to know that somewhere, far away,
He liv'd and breathed, and that there was a hope,
However vague, that she might once again
Dream (only dream!) to look at him on earth!
Kneeling beside the bed she tried to pray,
But her impatient spirit fear'd lest Heav'n
Was too far off to listen to her pray'r,
So, in the madness of her agony,
She call'd to Geoffrey Denzil, praying him
Upon her bended knees that he would live.
“Oh, if you die,” she said, “you break my heart,
“Good-bye to life! oh, let me die with you!
“Think of the three whole years we have been friends,
“Think of the places we have seen together—
“When you are gone my poor dreams crumble down,
“Oh, stay with me! oh, live to be again
“My chosen friend! ah, do not go away!—
“I love you more than life—come back to me!”
She threw her hopeless arms about his neck,
For o'er his face a death-like pallor spread,—
Some change seem'd working in him—all her soul
Look'd out upon him from her haggard eyes.
He did not move, she thought he scarcely breathed—
The pulses of her body seem'd to die—
“Oh, speak to me! Ah, do not leave me thus!
“Oh, Geoffrey, Geoffrey! you will break my heart!”
She sobb'd, and fainting, fell upon the floor.
I know not how it was some bell was rung,
And by and bye a servant sought the room
Denzil was sitting looking at the wall,
And Constance lay unconscious at his side,
“She fainted,” in the faintest voice he said—
“This shock has been too great”—he waved his hand,
“I'm better now,” he said. “Leave me alone—
‘Take care of her, she needs must want repose.”
They took her to her chamber, where she lay
As one exhausted; ev'ry now and then
She sadly ask'd them, “Is he still alive?”
Or else she wept and said, “He was my all
“On earth, my one companion! Save his life!”
Sir John was touch'd, and watch'd her tenderly,
And told his sister with how true a love
She lov'd his boy, for never did he doubt
That all her trouble came from fears for him—
But Miss L'Estrange compress'd her virgin lips,
Put on a face of Sphinx-like mystery,
And shook her head with a contemptuous look
At good Sir John, who was not one of those
Born to decipher riddles. Thus for days
Prostrate and weak, and wandering at times,
She kept her chamber; sometimes for whole hours
She stared at the gay pattern on the wall,
Forming the tendrils and the leaves and flow'rs
Into unmeaning words and animals,
And human faces, all unknown to her.
The doctor merely echoed Geoffrey's words:
“The fright has been too much, she needs repose;
“She has received a shock, and nervous fear
“Prostrates her mind and body; let her rest.”