"My heart was full; I kissed her pleading eyes:
'You are an angel sent by one in heaven,'
I said,'to heal my heart, but I have lost
More than you know. The cruel hand of death
Hath left me orphan, friendless—poor indeed,
Saving the precious jewel of your love.
And what to do? I know not what to do,
I feel so broken by a heavy hand.
My mother hoped that I would work my way
To competence and honor at the bar.
But shall I toil in poverty for years
To learn a science that so seldom yields
Or wealth or honor save to silvered heads?
I know that path to fame and fortune leads
Through thorns and brambles over ragged rocks;
But can I follow in the common path
Trod by the millions, never to lift my head
Above the busy hordes that delve and drudge
For bare existence in this bitter world—
And be a mite, a midge, a worthless worm,
No more distinguished from the common mass
Than one poor polyp in the coral isle
Is marked amid the myriads teeming there?
Yet 'tis not for myself. For you, Pauline,
Far up the slippery heights of wealth and fame
Would I climb bravely; but if I would climb
By any art or science, I must train
Unto the task my feet for many years,
Else I should slip and fall from rugged ways,
Too badly bruised to ever mount again.'
Then she:
"'O Paul, if wealth were mine to give!
O if my father could but know my heart!
But fear not, Paul, our Father reigns in heaven.
Follow your bent—'twill lead you out aright;
The highest mountain lessens as we climb;
Persistent courage wins the smile of fate.
Apply yourself to law and master it,
And I will wait. This sad and solemn hour
Is dark with doubt and gloom, but by and by
The clouds will lift and you will see God's face.
For there is one in heaven whose pleading tongue
Will pray for blessings on her only son
Of Him who heeds the little sparrow's fall;—
And O if He will listen to my prayers,
The gates of heaven shall echo to my voice
Morning and evening,—only keep your heart.'
I said:
"'Pauline, your prayers had rolled away
The ponderous stone that closed the tomb of Christ;
And while they rise to heaven for my success
I cannot doubt, or I should doubt my God.
I think I see a pathway through this gloom;
I have a kinsman'—and I told her where—
'A lawyer; I have heard my mother say—
A self-made man with charitable heart;
And I might go and study under him;
I think he would assist me.'
"Then she sighed:
'Paul, can you leave me? You may study here
And here you are among your boyhood friends,
And here I should be near to cheer you on.'
"I promised her that I would think of it—
Would see what prospect offered in the town;
And then we walked together half-embraced,
But when we neared her vine-arched garden gate,
She bade me stay and kissed me a good-night
And bounded through the moonlight like a fawn.
I watched her till she flitted from my sight,
Then slowly homeward turned my lingering steps.
I wrote my kinsman on the morrow morn,
And broached my project to a worthy man
Who kept an office and a case of books—
An honest lawyer. People called him learn'd,
But wanting tact and ready speech he failed.
The rest were pettifoggers—scurrilous rogues
Who plied the village justice with their lies,
And garbled law to suit the case in hand—
Mean, querulous, small-brained delvers in the mire
Of men's misfortunes—crafty, cunning knaves,
Versed in chicane and trickery that schemed
To keep the evil passions of weak men
In petty wars, and plied their tongues profane
With cunning words to argue honest fools
Into their spider-meshes to be fleeced.
I laid my case before him; took advice—
Well-meant advice—to leave my native town,
And study with my kinsman whom he knew.
A week rolled round and brought me a reply—
A frank and kindly letter—giving me
That which I needed most—encouragement.
But hard it was to fix my mind to go;
For in my heart an angel whispered 'Stay.'
It might be better for my after years,
And yet perhaps,'twere better to remain.
I balanced betwixt my reason and my heart,
And hesitated. Her I had not seen
Since that sad night, and so I made resolve
That we should meet, and at her father's house.
So whispering courage to my timid heart
I went. With happy greeting at the door
She met me, but her face was wan and pale—
So pale and wan I feared that she was ill.
I read the letter to her, and she sighed,
And sat in silence for a little time,
Then said:
"'God bless you, Paul, may be 'tis best—
I sometimes feel it is not for the best,
But I am selfish—thinking of myself.
Go like a man, but keep your boyish heart—
Your boyish heart is all the world to me.
Remember, Paul, how I shall watch and wait;
So write me often: like the dew of heaven
To withering grass will come your cheering words.
To know that you are well and happy, Paul,
And good and true, will wing the weary months.
And let me beg you as a sister would—
Not that I doubt you but because I love—
Beware of wine—touch not the treacherous cup,
And guard your honor as you guard your life.
The years will glide away like scudding clouds
That fleetly chase each other o'er the hills,
And you will be a man before you know,
And I will be a woman. God will crown
Our dearest hopes if we but trust in Him.'
"We sat in silence for a little time,
And she was weeping, so I raised her face
And kissed away her tears. She softly said:
'Paul, there is something I must say to you—
Something I have no time to tell you now;
But we must meet again before you go—
Under the pines where we so oft have met.
Be this the sign,'—She waved her graceful hand,
'Come when the shadows gather on the pines,
And silent stars stand sentinel in heaven;
Now Paul, forgive me—I must say—good-bye.'
"I read her fear upon her anxious brow.
Lingering and clasped within her loving arms
I, through her dewy, deep, blue eyes, beheld
Her inmost soul, and knew that love was there.
Ah, then and there her father blustered in,
And caught us blushing in each other's arms!
He stood a moment silent and amazed:
Then kindling wrath distorted all his face,
He showered his anger with a tongue of fire.
O cruel words that stung my boyish pride!
O dagger words that stabbed my very soul!
I strove, but fury mastered—up I sprang,
And felt a giant as I stood before him.
My breath was hot with anger;—impious boy—
Frenzied—forgetful of his silvered hairs—
Forgetful of her presence, too, I raved,
And poured a madman's curses on his head.
A moan of anguish brought me to myself;
I turned and saw her sad, imploring face,
And tears that quenched the wild fire in my heart.
I pressed her hand and passed into the hall,
While she stood sobbing in a flood of tears,
And he stood choked with anger and amazed.
But as I passed the ivied porch he came
With bated breath and muttered in my ear—
'Beggar!'—It stung me like a serpent's fang.
Pride-pricked and muttering like a maniac,
I almost flew the street and hurried home
To vent my anger to the silent elms.
'Beggar!'—an hundred times that long, mad night
I muttered with hot lips and burning breath;
I paced the walk with hurried tread, and raved;
I threw myself beneath the willow-tree,
And muttered like the muttering of a storm.
My little lamb came bleating mournfully;
Angered I struck him;—out among the trees
I wandered mumbling 'beggar' as I went,
And beating in through all my burning soul
The bitter thoughts it conjured, till my brain
Reeled and I sunk upon the dew-damp grass,
And—utterly exhausted—slept till morn.
"I dreamed a dream—all mist and mystery.
I saw a sunlit valley beautiful
With purple vineyards and with garden-plats;
And in the vineyards and the garden-plats
Were happy-hearted youths and merry girls
Toiling and singing. Grandsires too were there,
Sitting contented under their own vines
And fig-trees, while about them merrily played
Their children's children like the sportive lambs
That frolicked on the foot-hills. Low of kine,
Full-uddered, homeward-wending from the meads,
Fell on the ear as soft as Hulder's loor
Tuned on the Norse-land mountains. Like a nest
Hid in a hawthorn-hedge a cottage stood
Embowered with vines beneath broad-branching elms
Sweet-voiced with busy bees.
[Illustration: PAUL'S DREAM]