IV
The Public House. MORRIS and JEAN.
Jean. O, you are come again!
Morris. Has he been here, That blackguard, with some insolence to you?
Jean. Who?
Morris.
Why, that Hamish.
Jean.
Hamish? No, not he.
Morris. I thought—you seemed so breathless—
Jean.
But you've come
Again! May I not be glad of your coming?
Yes, and a little breathless?—Did you come
Only because you thought I might be bullied?
Morris. O, no, no, no, Only for you I came.
Jean. And that's what I was hoping.
Morris. If you could know How it has been with me, since I saw you!
Jean.
What can I know of your mind?—For my own
Is hard enough to know,—save that I'm glad
You've come again,—and that I should have cried
If you'd not kept your word.
Morris. My word?—to see Hamish does nothing to you?
Jean.
The fiend take Hamish!
Do you think I'ld be afraid of him?—It's you
I ought to be afraid of, were I wise.
Morris. Good God, she's crying!
Jean.
Cannot you understand?
Morris.
O darling, is it so? I prayed for this
All night, and yet it's unbelievable.
Jean. You too, Morris?
Morris.
There's nothing living in me
But love for you, my sweetheart.
Jean.
And you are mine,
My sweetheart!—And now, Morris, now you know
Why you are the man that ought to frighten me!—
Morris, I love you so!
Morris.
O, but better than this,
Jean, you must love me. You must never think
I'm like the heartless men you wait on here,
Whose love is all a hunger that cares naught
How hatefully endured its feasting must be
By her who fills it, so it be well glutted!
Jean.
I did not say I was afraid of you;
But only that, perhaps, I ought to be.
Morris.
No, no, you never ought. My love is one
That will not have its passion venturous;
It knows itself too fine a ceremony
To risk its whole perfection even by one
Unruly thought of the luxury in love.
Nay, rather it is the quietness of power,
That knows there is no turbulence in life
Dare the least questioning hindrance set against
The onward of its going,—therefore quiet,
All gentle. But strong, Jean, wondrously strong!
Jean.
Yes, love is strong. I have well thought of that.
It drops as fiercely down on us as if
We were to be its prey. I've seen a gull
That hovered with beak pointing and eyes fixt
Where, underneath its swaying flight, some fish
Was trifling, fooling in the waves: then, souse!
And the gull has fed. And love on us has fed.
Morris.
Indeed 'tis a sudden coming; but I grieve
To hear you make of love a cruelty.
Sweetheart, it shall be nothing cruel to you!
You shall not fear, in doing what love bids,
Ever to know yourself unmaidenly.
For see! here's my first kiss; and all my love
Is signed in it; and it is on your hand.—
Is that a thing to fear?—But it were best
I go now. This should be a privacy,
Not even your lover near, this hour of first
Strange knowledge that you have accepted love.
I think you would feel me prying, if I stayed
While your heart falters into full perceiving
That you are plighted now forever mine.
God bless you, Jean, my sweetheart.—Not a word?
But you will thank me soon for leaving you:
'Tis the best courtesy I can do.
[He goes.
Jean.
O, and I thought it was my love at last!
I thought, from the look he had last night, I'd found
That great, brave, irresistible love!—But this!
It's like a man deformed, with half his limbs.
Am I never to have the love I dream and need,
Pouring over me, into me, winds of fire?
HAMISH comes in.
Hamish.
Well? What's the mood to-night?—The girl's been crying!
This should be something queer.
Jean.
It's you are to blame:
You brought him here!
Hamish.
It's Morris this time, is it?
And what has he done?
Jean.
He's insulted me.
And you must never let me see him again.
Hamish.
Sure I don't want him seeing you. But still,
If I'm to keep you safe from meeting him—
Jean. To look in his eyes would mortify my heart!
Hamish. Then you'ld do right to pay me.
Jean.
What you please.
Hamish. A kiss?
Jean.
Of course; as many as you like—
And of any sort you like.