FullReads

Among the gifts he left her (possibly
He flow’d and ebb’d uncertain, to return
When others had been tested) there was one,
A dagger, in rich sheath with jewels on it
Sprinkled about in gold that branch’d itself
Fine as ice-ferns on January panes
Made by a breath. I know not whence at first,
Nor of what race, the work; but as he told
The story, storming a hill-fort of thieves
He got it; for their captain after fight,
His comrades having fought their last below,
Was climbing up the valley; at whom he shot:
Down from the beetling crag to which he clung
Tumbled the tawny rascal at his feet,
This dagger with him, which when now admired
By Edith whom his pleasure was to please,
At once the costly Sahib yielded it to her.

And Leolin, coming after he was gone,
Tost over all her presents petulantly:
And when she show’d the wealthy scabbard, saying
`Look what a lovely piece of workmanship!’
Slight was his answer `Well–I care not for it:’
Then playing with the blade he prick’d his hand,
`A gracious gift to give a lady, this!’
`But would it be more gracious’ ask’d the girl
`Were I to give this gift of his to one
That is no lady?’ `Gracious? No’ said he.
`Me?–but I cared not for it. O pardon me,
I seem to be ungraciousness itself.’
`Take it’ she added sweetly `tho’ his gift;
For I am more ungracious ev’n than you,
I care not for it either;’ and he said
`Why then I love it:’ but Sir Aylmer past,
And neither loved nor liked the thing he heard.

The next day came a neighbor. Blues and reds
They talk’d of: blues were sure of it, he thought:
Then of the latest fox–where started–kill’d
In such a bottom: `Peter had the brush,
My Peter, first:’ and did Sir Aylmer know
That great pock-pitten fellow had been caught?
Then made his pleasure echo, hand to hand,
And rolling as it were the substance of it
Between his palms a moment up and down–
`The birds were warm, the birds were warm upon him;
We have him now:’ and had Sir Aylmer heard–
Nay, but he must–the land was ringing of it–
This blacksmith-border marriage–one they knew–
Raw from the nursery–who could trust a child?
That cursed France with her egalities!
And did Sir Aylmer (deferentially
With nearing chair and lower’d accent) think–
For people talk’d–that it was wholly wise
To let that handsome fellow Averill walk
So freely with his daughter? people talk’d–
The boy might get a notion into him;
The girl might be entangled ere she knew.
Sir Aylmer Aylmer slowly stiffening spoke:
`The girl and boy, Sir, know their differences!’
`Good’ said his friend `but watch!’ and he `enough,
More than enough, Sir! I can guard my own.’
They parted, and Sir Aylmer Aylmer watch’d.

Pale, for on her the thunders of the house
Had fallen first, was Edith that same night;
Pale as the Jeptha’s daughter, a rough piece
Of early rigid color, under which
Withdrawing by the counter door to that
Which Leolin open’d, she cast back upon him
A piteous glance, and vanish’d. He, as one
Caught in a burst of unexpected storm,
And pelted with outrageous epithets,
Turning beheld the Powers of the House
On either side the hearth, indignant; her,
Cooling her false cheek with a featherfan,
Him glaring, by his own stale devil spurr’d,
And, like a beast hard-ridden, breathing hard.
`Ungenerous, dishonorable, base,
Presumptuous! trusted as he was with her,
The sole succeeder to their wealth, their lands,
The last remaining pillar of their house,
The one transmitter of their ancient name,
Their child.’ `Our child!’ `Our heiress!’ `Ours!’ for
still,
Like echoes from beyond a hollow, came
Her sicklier iteration. Last he said
`Boy, mark me! for your fortunes are to make.
I swear you shall not make them out of mine.
Now inasmuch as you have practised on her,
Perplext her, made her half forget herself,
Swerve from her duty to herself and us–
Things in an Aylmer deem’d impossible,
Far as we track ourselves–I say that this,–
Else I withdraw favor and countenance
From you and yours for ever–shall you do.
Sir, when you see her–but you shall not see her–
No, you shall write, and not to her, but me:
And you shall say that having spoken with me,
And after look’d into yourself, you find
That you meant nothing–as indeed you know
That you meant nothing. Such as match as this!
Impossible, prodigious!’ These were words,
As meted by his measure of himself,
Arguing boundless forbearance: after which,
And Leolin’s horror-stricken answer, `I
So foul a traitor to myself and her,
Never oh never,’ for about as long
As the wind-hover hangs in the balance, paused
Sir Aylmer reddening from the storm within,
Then broke all bonds of courtesy, and crying
`Boy, should I find you by my doors again,
My men shall lash you from the like a dog;
Hence!’ with a sudden execration drove
The footstool from before him, and arose;
So, stammering `scoundrel’ out of teeth that ground
As in a dreadful dream, while Leolin still
Retreated half-aghast, the fierce old man
Follow’d, and under his own lintel stood
Storming with lifted hands, a hoary face
Meet for the reverence of the hearth, but now,
Beneath a pale and unimpassion’d moon,
Vext with unworthy madness, and deform’d.