So they paced the shady lime-walk in that twilight
dim and holy,
Still the last farewell deferring, she could hear
or he should say;
Every word, weighed down by sorrow, fell more tenderly
and slowly—
This, which now beheld their parting, should have
been their wedding-day.
Should have been: her dreams of childhood, never
straying, never faltering,
Still had needed Philip’s image to make future
life complete;
Philip’s young hopes of ambition, ever changing,
ever altering,
Needed Mildred’s gentle presence even to make
successes sweet.
This day should have seen their marriage; the calm
crowning and assurance
Of two hearts, fulfilling rather, and not changing,
either life:
Now they must be rent asunder, and her heart must
learn endurance,
For he leaves their home, and enters on a world of
work and strife.
But her gentle spirit long had learnt, unquestioning,
submitting,
To revere his youthful longings, and to marvel at
the fate
That gave such a humble office, all unworthy and unfitting,
To the genius of the village, who was born for something
great.
When the learned Traveller came there who had gained
renown at college,
Whose abstruse research had won him even European
fame,
Questioned Philip, praised his genius, marvelled at
his self-taught knowledge,
Could she murmur if he called him up to London and
to fame?
Could she waver when he bade her take the burden of
decision,
Since his troth to her was plighted, and his life
was now her own?
Could she doom him to inaction? could she, when a
newborn vision
Rose in glory for his future, check it for her sake
alone?
So her little trembling fingers, that had toiled with
such fond pleasure,
Paused, and laid aside, and folded the unfinished
wedding gown;
Faltering earnestly assurance, that she too could,
in her measure,
Prize for him the present honour, and the future’s
sure renown.
Now they pace the shady lime-walk, now the last words
must be spoken,
Words of trust, for neither dreaded more than waiting
and delay;
Was not love still called eternal—could
a plighted vow be broken?—
See the crimson light of sunset fades in purple mist
away.
“Yes, my Mildred,” Philip told her, “one
calm thought of joy and blessing,
Like a guardian spirit by me, through the world’s
tumultuous stir,
Still will spread its wings above me, and now urging,
now repressing,
With my Mildred’s voice will murmur thoughts
of home, and love, and her.
“It will charm my peaceful leisure, sanctify
my daily toiling,
With a right none else possesses, touching my heart’s
inmost string;
And to keep its pure wings spotless I shall fly the
world’s touch, soiling
Even in thought this Angel Guardian of my Mildred’s
Wedding Ring.
“Take it, dear; this little circlet is the first
link, strong and holy,
Of a life-long chain, and holds me from all other
love apart;
Till the day when you may wear it as my wife—my
own—mine wholly—
Let me know it rests for ever near the beating of
your heart.”