University of Virginia Library

Scene VI.

Raymond—Hope.
HOPE
O my love,
Forgive me!

RAYMOND
For what crime?

HOPE
Against myself,
Not you—not for a moment against you
I sinned, because I suffered him to speak
Words which do blind me with remembered shame;
But you are here, and I am in the light
And I must show you all.

RAYMOND
(aside)
If this be so
As I would have it, as I think it is,
We are free, we triumph! (Aloud.)
Speak and have no fear!
Vernon I think went from you as I came;
Hope, I have read him through. I know he loves you
With such a loyal patience as your own
Which will not tamper with another's seal.
But he who set the seal can break it, Hope.
I'll give you words. If he has tempted you—
If there were trembling moments in your heart
Which as he pleaded, almost answered him
As he would have you answer, tell me all!
We are all frail—let all be merciful!

HOPE
Would you forgive me that? Alas, my Raymond,
I could not be so placable to you;
I know not if my love is hungrier,
Or if my trust, being made so perfect-pure,
Takes the least flaw for ruin, but I know
If I could let a doubt into my heart
'Twould break it in the entering.

RAYMOND
Then what said he?

HOPE
Are you so cold? Must I defend myself?
Should not that cause be safe whose just defence
Lies in the judge's breast? I was a child
When first you made me love you. Looking back
The time before that far beginning seems
Like a vague dream before a lovely day,
For I began to live then. You should know
Better than I, the manner and the growth—
It is myself, I cannot speak of it.
Oh, you were jesting when you doubted me;
There's not a word of love you ever spoke,
Not a kind look, nay, not a turn o' the voice
Dropping to tenderness, which stays not here, [touching her heart

Recalled a thousand times, making sweet fire
Under the common talk, which no man sees,
To feed the happy fulness of my life.
Sure you would mock me if I told you all,
If I could show you (as I could) the leaf
On yonder maple which the sun just kissed
When somewhere in last June you said you loved me;
Or the soft inch of moss which pressed my foot
When you compelled that answer from my lips
Which had so long been ringing in my heart.
Nay, but for shame, I could tell deeper things,
Yet have I told too much.

RAYMOND
(aside)
Must I hear this?
My punishment is greater than my fault. [Aloud, taking Hope's hands.

Hear me!

HOPE
Alas, your grasp is hard! It hurts!
I never wronged you by a thought.

RAYMOND
(drops her hands and turns away)
O, peace!
Do not look at me so—tell me—be sure
You speak bare truth—if you could know me guilty,
Worthless, a wretch for common speech to spurn
And priests to preach of, would you give me up?
Speak, would you?

HOPE
By this anguish in your voice
You are not jesting. Dear, if you have erred,
Some passion struck you—men may do the wrongs
Which women dream of, being tempted less;
But all are sinners in the sight of God.
You are so noble, that you charge your soul
With passages and moments which escape
The common record. Tell, or tell me not,
The pang which shakes your conscience, I am sure
It touches not my love.

RAYMOND
O ignorance,
To which the blackest secret in the abyss
Of miserable nature seems a cloud
Melting against the daylight! Words so sweet
Which make the heart so bitter! Irony
Cutting the sharper that it means to heal!
Hate me! You must, you shall!

HOPE
(with her hands on his arm)
I claim my right
In this new grief—being yours it must be mine.
Was it not always so, my Raymond? Think
That the familiar darkness holds you still
Where, trust me, you would miss the faithful voice
And unforsaking clasp. Are they less yours
Because your night is inward? O, I am bold
To count myself for something! Call to mind
That precious sorrow of the Past, which drew
Such comfort from my love, that I was glad
Once for a selfish moment, when I felt
That I was all your world. Chide me for that!
I am your servant now, and you my world,
But that's no change.

RAYMOND
It is impossible!

HOPE
No confidence can wound like this withholding.
If for my sake you hide a pain, remember
Ere it can prick your heart it pierces mine.
Nay, if you will not trust me, I must fear
You love me less.

[Weeps.
RAYMOND
(aside)
It burns me here—to death!
I cannot utter it. (Aloud.)
You conquer me
Against my will. I have not slept three nights;
Heed nothing that I say—I am not well—
There is a haunting fever in my blood
Which troubles me with visions.

HOPE
Ah, no sleep!
This bare tremendous life, which threatens you
Without its natural veil, shall seem an angel
When you have slept again. I marvel not
The calmness of your late endurance pays
This afterprice. I am glad you told me of it;
You must be handled gently.

RAYMOND
I'll go now
And try to rest.