From whom seek the strength which his need of is sore, Although in his pride he might perish, before He could plead for the one, or the other avow 'Mid his intimate friends? Wife of mine, tell me now, Do you join me in feeling, in that darken'd hour, The sole friend that CAN have the right or the power To be at his side, is the woman that shares His fate, if he falter; the woman that bears The name dear for HER sake, and hallows the life She has mingled her own with,--in short, that man's wife?"
"Yes," murmur'd Matilda, "O yes!"
"Then," he cried, "This chamber in which we two sit, side by side, (And his arm, as he spoke, seem'd more softly to press her), Is now a confessional--you, my confessor!"
"I?" she falter'd, and timidly lifted her head.
"Yes! but first answer one other question," he said:
"When a woman once feels that she is not alone:
That the heart of another is warm'd by her own;
That another feels with her whatever she feel And halves her existence in woe or in weal;
That a man, for her sake, will, so long as he lives, Live to put forth the strength which the thought of her gives;
Live to shield her from want, and to share with her sorrow;
Live to solace the day, and provide for the morrow:
Will that woman feel less than another, O say, The loss of what life, sparing this, takes away?
Will she feel (feeling this), when calamities come, That they brighten the heart, though they darken the home?"
She turn'd, like a soft rainy heav'n, on him Eyes that smiled through fresh tears, trustful, tender, and dim.
"That woman," she murmur'd, "indeed were thrice blest!"
"Then courage, true wife of my heart!" to his breast As he folded and gather'd her closely, he cried.
"For the refuge, to-night in these arms open'd wide To your heart, can be never closed to it again, And this room is for both an asylum! For when I pass'd through that door, at the door I left there A calamity sudden and heavy to bear.
One step from that threshold, and daily, I fear, We must face it henceforth; but it enters not here, For that door shuts it out, and admits here alone A heart which calamity leaves all your own!"
She started . . . "Calamity, Alfred, to you?"
"To both, my poor child, but 'twill bring with it too The courage, I trust, to subdue it."
"O speak!
Speak!" she falter'd in tones timid, anxious, and weak.
"O yet for a moment," he said, "hear me on!
Matilda, this morn we went forth in the sun, Like those children of sunshine, the bright summer flies, That sport in the sunbeam, and play through the skies While the skies smile, and heed not each other: at last, When their sunbeam is gone, and their sky overcast, Who recks in what ruin they fold their wet wings?
So indeed the morn found us,--poor frivolous things!
Now our sky is o'ercast, and our sunbeam is set, And the night brings its darkness around us. Oh yet Have we weather'd no storm through those twelve cloudless hours?
Yes; you, too, have wept!
"While the world was yet ours, While its sun was upon us, its incense stream'd to us, And its myriad voices of joy seem'd to woo us, We stray'd from each other, too far, it may be, Nor, wantonly wandering, then did I see How deep was my need of thee, dearest, how great Was thy claim on my heart and thy share in my fate!
But, Matilda, an angel was near us, meanwhile, Watching o'er us to warn, and to rescue!
"That smile Which you saw with suspicion, that presence you eyed With resentment, an angel's they were at your side And at mine; nor perchance is the day all so far, When we both in our prayers, when most heartfelt they are, May murmur the name of that woman now gone From our sight evermore.
"Here, this evening, alone, I seek your forgiveness, in opening my heart Unto yours,--from this clasp be it never to part!
Matilda, the fortune you brought me is gone, But a prize richer far than that fortune has won It is yours to confer, and I kneel for that prize, 'Tis the heart of my wife!" With suffused happy eyes She sprang from her seat, flung her arms wide apart, And tenderly closing them round him, his heart Clasp'd in one close embrace to her bosom; and there Droop'd her head on his shoulder; and sobb'd.
